Review: Enchanting Rachmaninoff, lethargic Ninth conclude Tanglewood season

Perhaps, however, in playing this piece year after year to close the Tanglewood season, the BSO has forgotten what a pregnant masterpiece it really is.

The final weekend of the 2004 Tanglewood Season began with another Pops concert with music from “The Wizard of Oz,” and ended with the BSO season-ending Beethoven’s 9th, traditional, and unexciting, I am afraid, in more ways than one.

This is not to say I do not like the Beethoven’s 9th. In fact, I adore the Beethoven’s 9th. I consider it to be, perhaps, the greatest piece of music ever written; but I would bet anything this was not what was going through the minds of BSO players as they mechanically barged through this year’s season finale with little joy of their own to justify the emphatic remonstrations of “Freude” coming from the always excellent Tanglewood Festival Chorus directed by John Oliver. The chorus, unlike their instrumental colleagues, seemed to feel the high privilege — and honor — involved in any presentation of Beethoven’s 9th.

The 'Wizard of Oz' at Tanglewood with the Boston Pops and Keith Lockhart, in the final 2014 Tanglewood weekend. Photo: Hilary Scott
The ‘Wizard of Oz’ at Tanglewood with the Boston Pops and Keith Lockhart, in the final 2014 Tanglewood weekend. Photo: Hilary Scott

Saturday evening’s concert gave us Rachmaninoff’s lovely “Rhapsody on a theme by Paganini,” with the swinging young pianist Kirill Gerstein; but, regrettably, we had to suffer through the entire Trilogy of Symphonic poems about Rome by Ottorino Respighi (1879-1936) which no one in their right mind should ever program all together (and indeed hardly anyone ever has). As usual, I neglected to attend the Pops’ concert; but, as ever, if you went, I hope you enjoyed it, and that you come back to see a real orchestral concert sometime soon (if only the ticket-prices were more reasonable).

Saturday’s evening concert began with a singularly uninspired little overture by Hector Berlioz (1803-1869) on the “Roman Carnival.” The usual remark about Berlioz is that he was a composer who, paradoxically, was gifted in orchestration and imaginatively developing material, but had little ear for good melody, and little inspiration for good musical ideas writ more generally. Though I have always found the charm and power of Berlioz’s orchestration to be overrated, even if it were not, the foregoing is not a sufficient defense of any composer who can be called first-rate. The creative genius of discovering good musical material is the basis of all musical composition, and the necessary condition of anything that has a chance of being really successful.

is true that Berlioz can be very creative with the orchestra, but the bare bones of material he seeks to develop is almost always second-, or even third-rate. This is certainly the case in the “Roman Carnival” overture, which at best can boast a reasonably pleasant Italianate melody in the oboe. But even more worrying here was the sloppiness, and lack of imagination in the harmonic changes, which were pleasant, unoffensive, and boring. French Maestro Charles Dutoit seemed to want to shake BSO concertmaster Malcolm Lowe’s hand (yes, Malcolm Lowe was actually playing this weekend) before the final note had finished sounding; and really I don’t blame him. Let’s move on.

Saturday’s performance of Rachmaninoff’s delightful “Rhapsody on a Theme by Paganini” concluded the BSO’s near summer long obsession with Rachmaninoff, having performed four major works by the composer this summer.

In his program notes to the piece, the always insightful Stephen Ledbetter, who writes the best notes I have ever read anywhere, suggests a possible programmatic inspiration for the piece involving Paganini himself, whose 24th Caprice is the basis of these variations: The great Italian virtuoso sells his soul to the devil in exchange for his astonishing technical prowess on the violin.

There may be something in this, as certainly the appearance of the “Dies Irae” tune in one of the variations suggests, but there is still something half comic about the work. Whereas Beethoven attempts to arrive at the sublime apotheosis of musical variation in the slow movement of his Ninth Symphony, Rachmaninoff, in accordance with his unique ascetic, aims for the apotheosis of story-book terror and rollicking fun, fit with splashes of modernism, and helpings of Russian smaltz never laid on too thick. The result is absolutely enchanting.

As always, in his best works, Rachmaninoff uses modernist and jazz elements to chasten and control his sentimentalism into an appropriate balance. Pianist Kirill Gerstein, a jazz enthusiast himself, has just the right spirit for this piece, though he does not perhaps have as effortless a touch on the keys as someone like Gabriela Montero, who regaled us with the Rach 2 some weeks ago.

As for the second half of Saturday evenings’ program, the Trilogy of Roman symphonic poems by Respighi, I decline to review it seriously. In all honesty, I wish I had not been there. I was actually very envious of a couple who choose to leave after the first part of the trilogy. By the second part I was busy trying my hand at Greek prose composition in notebook I always keep with me to stimulate myself, since the music was so utterly boring; by the third part I was nearly asleep. The piece is execrable.

 

Yefim Bronfman, the BSO and Tanglewood Festival Chorus perform Beethoven's Choral Fantasy. Photo; Hilary Scott
Yefim Bronfman, the BSO and Tanglewood Festival Chorus perform Beethoven’s Choral Fantasy. Photo: Hilary Scott

Sunday afternoon’s traditional season finale began untraditionally with a performance of Beethoven’s “Choral Fantasy”, a one-movement work for orchestra, chorus, and solo piano, with the latter being supplied by the formidable Yefim Bronfman. The piece is not built of the most inspiring material, but a good deal of what Beethoven does in playing around with even this, and especially the prolonged solo part that begins the work, is really very agreeable.

Yefim Bronfman and Charles Dutoit bow following the performance of the Choral Fantasy. Photo: Hilary Scott
Yefim Bronfman and Charles Dutoit bow following the performance of the Choral Fantasy. Photo: Hilary Scott

Then, of course, came Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9, which needs no introduction. Suffice it to say that this piece has often brought me to tears. This has happened principally in two places, firstly, in the opening presentation of the basic theme of the third movement “Adagio molto e cantabile,” and then when the chorus first enters shouting “Freude” joy, as if at a political rally.

The message is almost too beautiful for words. It is a simple call, found deep in all our hearts, for joy and happiness, founded on the mutual love and brotherhood of mankind, proclaimed amidst what is perhaps mankind’s supreme work of musical expression.

Why is it our supreme work of musical expression? Because it encompasses nearly every element of that expression: The bare minimalism of the opening bars which consist of only two notes, A and E, the rollicking march of the second movement scherzo, the supremely poetic slow movement, a height of theme and variation; the contrapuntal, sequential builds of the fourth movement, some of them wrought in an exquisite and unprecedented quartet of solo voices; even the comic relief of a Turkish street band which arrives after the Chorus has just risen in spiritual intoxication to praise God.

Perhaps, however, in playing this piece year after year to close the Tanglewood season, the BSO has forgotten what a pregnant masterpiece it really is, and has resorted to playing it on auto-pilot. The celebrated Maestro Dutoit did not help matters by enjoining the BSO strings to play with a harshness and dryness, probably in the name of articulation and rhythmic intensity, which took all the love and sentiment out of the piece. Closing my eyes, and trying to forget where I was, I do not think I could have recognized the BSO strings, which are normally characterized by a warmth and fullness of sound that other celebrated orchestras in this county, such as the Chicago Symphony, cannot replicate.

Perhaps Maestro Dutoit simply had the wrong idea: A work of supreme drama and force should be played with as much force possible? Was this the Maestro’s thinking? In any case, it was wrong headed. The Beethoven’s Symphony No.9 is an expression of the sublime, not of brute force; of love, not of violence.

Still, the Beethoven’s 9th s brought out a large crowd, and much of the audience gave it an ecstatic ovation. To the connoisseurs, however, I say that you should listen to a recording with Furtwangler, Karajan or Toscanini. There is the expression of love that the piece demands.