Above: all of this evening's concert participants take a bow on the Weill Hall stage; photo by Gretchen Robinette
Author: Brad S Ross
Thursday March 9, 2023 - The audience of Carnegie Hall’s Weill Recital Hall was treated to one of the finest chamber music concerts of recent memory as the Houston-based Apollo Chamber Players made their long-awaited return to NYC Thursday evening. The visiting ACP members included violinists Matthew J. Detrick and Anabel Ramirez Detrick and cellist Matthew Dudzik; they were joined this evening by guest violist Tonya Burton, tenor Kenneth Gayle, and narrators Outspoken Bean and John Herrington. The program, titled “Apollo MoonShot,” comprised entirely works written after 2015—all of which were receiving their New York premiere.
ACP founder Matthew Detrick began the evening with informal, yet pleasantly articulate opening remarks as he thanked those who made this performance possible. This set an intimate tone that carried over for the entire concert as composers and performers alike shared anecdotes in pre-performance talks about their work. These talks were mostly a delight (as I’ll elaborate below), but often featured relevant information about the compositions themselves that I wish had been included in the printed program, which was little more than a leaflet (yeah, yeah, there was a QR code link to more information, but a concert hall is the last place I want to use my phone).
Above: composer John L. Cornelius
The first piece of the night was Pax by the American pianist and composer John L. Cornelius. Demanding the largest forces of the evening, Pax was cast for string quartet, tenor, and spoken word.
Tenor Kenneth Gayle (above, photo by Gretchen Robinette) sang a powerful libretto adapted from two poems by Langston Hughes (“Give Us Our Peace” and “The Dove”)...
...while the Houston Poet Laureate Outspoken Bean (photo above by Gretchen Robinette) dramatically provided the spoken word accompaniment. Pax, as the composer explained in a brief pre-performance talk, was inspired by the concept of peace and how we define it.
Above: performing Pax, photo by Gretchen Robinette
Despite the (relatively) large voicing, the work was rather sparsely orchestrated throughout, with focus trading off between the instruments, tenor solo, and the narration throughout the piece. The combination of elements was refreshingly unique, and it certainly grabbed the audience’s attention, but the music itself seemed to move in fits and starts because of this—the instruments would enter, followed by Gayle’s vocals, and then everything else would pause while Outspoken Bean’s delivered his poetic narration. Only toward the end did all of the forces come together for a full and surprisingly loud effect. Pax then came to its dramatic conclusion as Outspoken Bean delivered his final injunction “Peace!” It made for a riveting live music experience—if one that probably wouldn’t translate well on recording.
The next work was MoonStrike by the Native American composer Jerod Impichchaachaaha’ Tate. Tate, who was joined on stage by his son (above photo by Gretchen Robinette), first introduced himself in the Chickasaw language before amusingly explaining their “lost luggage look” of jeans and button-up shirts. Apparently, the airline misplaced their bags and they had to hastily shop for clothes at Old Navy before the concert (we’ve all been there). Tate’s father was also in attendance, making for a special three-generation performance event.
Above: astronaut John Herrington (center) and the musicians for MoonStrike: Matthew Detrick and Anabel Ramirez Detrick (violinists), cellist Matthew Dudzik, and violist Tonya Burton; photo by Gretchen Robinette
MoonStrike is scored for string quartet and narration, which was provided by the fellow Chickasaw nation member and first Native American astronaut John Herrington (this was an especially appropriate collaboration, as the piece was originally commissioned to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the moon landing). The narration of each movement therefore told a different story about the moon from various native tribal legends adapted by Tate.
The piece began on an instrumental prologue “Calusa Corn Dance,” followed by Herrington’s dramatic entrance from the stage door to begin his narration. The animated first movement “Origin of the Moon” told the Kalispel Tribe story of how a woodpecker ran away with the original moon and a coyote had to take its place. The lamenting second movement “The Man Who Married the Moon” told the Isleta Pueblo story of the tribal leader Nah-chu-rú-chu's marriage to the Moon and how the jealous Yellow Corn sisters betrayed and murdered her—but not without consequences. The energetic and thoughtful third movement “Raven Steals the Moon” of the Haida people told the story of how the selfish Raven stole the moon so that the irritated fishermen would continue feeding him. This was followed by a short, punchy epilogue “Calusa Corn Dance Reprise” that concluded to enthusiastic applause. It was an excellent conclusion to the first half of the concert.
Above: Jennifer Higdon, photo by Gretchen Robinette
After the intermission came Jennifer Higdon’s one-movement composition for string quartet In the Shadow of the Mountain. Higdon, who was undoubtedly the biggest name on the program, has long been open about the Appalachian musical roots stemming from her upbringing in Tennessee. In the Shadow of the Mountain, which is based on elements of her first opera Cold Mountain, was no stranger to that influence. The piece is chock-full of some of the same delicious bluegrass elements that made her Concerto 4-3, among others, such a delight to hear. There’s not much I can say about the work without relying on adjectives that have become string music clichés, but needless to say I look forward to revisiting the piece again.
Next up was L’esprit du Nord (The Spirit of the North) by the New England-born composer Pierre Jalbert (photo above). The piece, which lasts a little over 15 minutes, is cast in three movements andis richly infused with the French-Canadian folk music of the composer’s ancestry. It opened on a plucky and upbeat “Chanson de Lisette,” followed by a gorgeous and somber “Cantique,” and concluded on an almost giddy third movement “Fiddle Dance,” complete with knocking and dancelike elements that drove the work to a finale that simply (to borrow a contemporary term) slaps. A prompt cheer of “Yeah!” came from an audience member as the applause began—a sentiment no doubt shared by everyone in the concert hall.
The last piece of the evening was Thracian Airs of Besime Sultan for string quartet by the Turkish-American composer Erberk Eryilmaz. Eryilmaz (photo, above) was, surprisingly, the only millennial composer on the program, but he more than held his own against his Gen-X counterparts. He was also the only composer not present, which, as Matthew Detrick explained before the piece, is because he had flown to Turkey to be with his family following last month’s devastating earthquake. Detrick added, I should note, that this performance was dedicated to the victims of that disaster.
Based on folk music of the Thracian people, who historically lived in regions now encompassed by Turkey, Greece, Romania, and Bulgaria, Thracian Airs of Besime Sultan was decidedly more Middle Eastern in sound, utilizing regionally appropriate modes and sporadic vocalizations of “Besime Sultan!” from the performers. It is written in a single movement lasting about 10 minutes and included some of the most exuberant and demanding writing of the entire evening, which included stomping and other decidedly non-traditional string performing. The players were more than up to the challenge, however, leading the piece to a wickedly vivacious end.
The audience members were quick to their feet for a lengthy ovation, during which all composers and performers returned to the stage for one final bow. It was a perfect, energetic finale to a glorious evening of contemporary chamber music. “That was sensational,” said the woman seated in front of me as the audience began to gather their belongings and exit the hall. I couldn’t have put it better myself.
~ Brad S. Ross