Racette and Moody and Beethoven and Strauss!

Music Director Robert Moody and the Portland Symphony Orchestra continued their Beethoven cycle Tuesday evening with a performance of the Eighth Symphony. When young, obsessed with, and studying the symphonies, I found Number 8 his weakest, its spry, lightness holding the least amount of interest for me. As I've grown older, my mind has changed and it has become something altogether different and seen and heard in a new light. The PSO's performance brought forth all of its strengths, humor and sense of fun. In one of the technically most assured performances I've heard from this orchestra the symphony burst with appropriately taut, crisp, life, its syncopated and exaggerated rhythms, crazy key modulations, instant dynamic changes all brought to the fore. Nowhere was this more true than in the fourth movement, with its sense of propulsive energy, the madcap quality of the extended coda and Beethoven seemingly making a joke at how a symphony should end. The applause came fast and furious and the faces of Maestro Moody and his orchestra were unmistakably those of who knew they'd just done something fairly spectacular.

Before the concert Moody explained his arranging four separate pieces from operas of Richard Strauss to constitute a sort of “symphony.” He requested the audience withhold its applause between its “movements” . . . even when guest star, soprano Patricia Racette entered for the final scene from Salome, emphasizing Ms. Racette's desire to "enter the stage already as Salome.” The notion of cobbling together a symphony from four fairly disparate works seemed on one hand, an odd one, yet on the other, an intriguing exercise in charting the development of a composer.

The two opening "movements” exhibited Strauss’ debt, and dedication, to the Wagnerian model. With its shimmering, pianissimo strings, and delicately gauzy winds, the Prelude from Guntram could easily have been mistaken as a preliminary draft for Lohengrin. Similarly, the love music from Feuersnot had elements that bore more than a mere whiff of Parsifal. This is not to dismiss Strauss’ originality, for in this music could also be heard elements of future works including both Salome and Elektra. In Salome's Dance of the Seven Veils, the orchestra was convincing in putting forth Strauss' brand of perfumed Orientalism as well as letting loose with a wonderful display of a sometimes breathless savagery.

Padded with added brass and a small village of percussionists, the PSO reveled in the luxuriousness of those four pieces, producing an ever increasing richness of sound that grew, exponentially, to its climax: the Final Scene from Salome.

Ravishing in a figure hugging gown of dark purple, Ms. Racette entered the stage to complete silence with time seemingly standing still until violently broken by the jagged cello wail and drum thunder that begins opera’s most celebrated scene of deranged beauty. Racette's voice, with its Sills-like brightness is deceptive in its size, her silvery tone shining through the roles most difficult passages with ease. There is an enormous difference between singing with a full Strauss orchestra in the pit versus having the band onstage and at times I feared Moody would get carried away by the opportunity of showing the sheer sound-capacity of such an ensemble, particularly in the score's loudest sections. The soprano did get overpowered, not where one would think, but rather in some of the role's lower passages where she could still be heard, if just barely, as the orchestra roared with thunder. Some brakes, perhaps, should have been applied in such moments. The major climaxes however, held no such problems, with Racette's voice easily soaring, the high notes, bright, focused and secure. Her phrasing, nuance of text and belief in this music made me, now more than ever, wish to experience her in the complete role. She really was that good. (Note: It was recently announced Racette will be bringing the role to LA Opera next season: California, here I come!)

If the singing were all that mattered, a bonus was having Racette's well thought out absorption of the role. While never straying from the small space allotted to her on the crowded stage, Racette's facial expressions, arms and hands brought a full portrait of Strauss and Wilde's twisted teen. As her arms extended, one could see the platter holding the prophet's severed head as she sensuously brought it up to her own before going in for opera's most demented kiss. At Herod's order of her murder, Salome's arms shot up, to protect or protest, but ultimately proved useless as her face realized the final horror. It was lugubriously delicious.

Portland Symphony: It is Enough

I’m still in “awe” both in mode and mood from Tuesday night’s concert by the Portland Symphony. It was, for me, one of the most exciting programs this ensemble has put together. Brahms’ Academic Festival Overture opened the performance and while there was a slight glitch in timing (two halves of the orchestra seemed momentarily out of sync) and an occasional muffling (soundwise, NOT notewise) of the strings, from early on in the piece there was a sense of occasion and purpose to the playing that expanded brilliantly as the piece grew.

Music Director, Robert Moody brought out all of the disparate qualities Brahms instilled in this miniature masterpiece, offering the full range from raucous energy and humor (one can almost taste the beer in the steins) to the sense of stately elegance and pride with which the work closes. So stirring was the performance that nary a minute between the final chord and a chorus of bravos and general cheering ensued. It was on.

Next up, everybody’s favorite old chestnut, Berg’s Violin Concerto. Okay, maybe not. First, I must say this: Berg is among my favorite composers and 13 years ago when I moved to Maine I already knew my Berg quota would be met only through trips away and recordings. When I saw the first announcement for this season I wrote (or called) friends near and wide . . . repeatedly, that “Berg was coming to Portland.” And not just in something like the more easily accessible post-Mahlerian “Three Orchestral Pieces” but full on with the Violin Concerto. I’ll admit a touch of dismay when before the piece ensued Moody picked up a microphone, though a photocopy of the Bach chorale “Es ist genug” inserted into the program forewarned a lecture on atonality and serialism might ensue, and so it was. I’m always of the opinion the music should speak for itself. Dismay, however, turned to joy, Moody’s enthusiasm (as well as a touch of nervousness) for the piece came through as he explained the structure, and had the orchestra play several of the themes, and involved the audience in a mass choral reading of Bach’s chorale.

What followed was nothing less than remarkable. PSO Concertmaster Charles Dimmick began with a reading that combined three things necessary to pull off this work: a technique that was spot on with amazing intonation and undaunted by the work’s technical challenges; an ability to move within the duplicity of both the confines and excesses of serialism; and finally, an obvious passion for the work itself. That passion was matched and fueled, measure-for-measure by Moody and the orchestra in a performance that oftentimes approached the incandescent. The second movement began (as it should) with a roar and Dimmick’s technical prowess here was allowed to shine with as virtuostic display which was every bit the equal as those from the great Romantic violin concerti. At the work’s conclusion Dimmick’s violin climbed higher – as if to heaven, holding that impossibly high harmonic in the air for an eternity, as the final chords played out. By now my eyes filled with tears and afterwards realized this was a moment I will remember and cherish for the rest of my life.

Intermission found some patrons confused by what they’d just heard and some negative comments about the piece, but I didn’t mind, finding almost all of them comical (particularly the gentleman who claimed to love 12 tone music, but finds this piece to be an example of “another case of the Emperor has no clothes.”

I’ve always wanted to hear Sibelius in Maine. Ol’ Jean was my favorite symphonist when I was growing up, and the Second Symphony was what nabbed me in the first place. As much as I love the work (and as frequently as I’ve heard it performed) only a few performances or recordings have ever felt completely “right” to me. Two would be Sir John Barbirolli and the Halle Orchestra and the decades later recording with Neeme Jarvi and the Gothenberg Orchestra (part of BIS’s complete Sibelius project that remains one of most rewarding projects in modern recording history). Too many conductors bring too much flash and fire to this symphony seemingly forgetful of where Sibelius was from and that fire is not the only thing that burns. Moody and the band got it just right creating an aura that appropriately swept through crisp north woods and might oceanic waves. The first movement danced its way through in typical Sibelius fashion, fragments of stunning melodies and motifs that sometimes are developed and sometimes simply slip away like the end of an icicle hanging from a tree.

As with the opening, the inner movements found Moody alternately playful and intense, allowing the orchestra to move through wildly changing rhythmic patterns and ever shifting sound choirs with a judicious (and remarkable) use of lüftpausen not only allowing the band to “breathe” but also serving to point up the sheer number of extraordinary tunes Sibelius nearly overwhelms us with. The final movement built up a head of steam that swept over us all like a tidal wave of sound, that central theme soaring in that Nordic/Ruski fashion (which some critics dismiss as “too obvious”) but which musicians and audiences cannot seem to get enough of. The final page brought a roar of sound from the orchestra followed by a roar of applause and an ovation from the audience.

It was as perfect a night of musicmaking as I’ve ever heard in this hall – magnificent in every regard. Bravo a tutti to Maestro Moody and the PSO!

PSO's Season Opens With "Heroic" Night

Last night saw the opening of the 85th Season of the Portland Symphony Orchestra. After a stirring rendition of our National Anthem, Music Director, Robert Moody launched the band into what has always been one of my favorite works in the entire orchestral repertoire; Beethoven’s mighty Number 3, “Eroica.”

We’re talking the “beginning” of the modern symphony here and it’s always interesting to me to see what direction a conductor takes this piece. Moody is proving himself to be a fascinating fit for this orchestra, with intriguing ideas that seem thoroughly researched and thought out. I recall how impressed I was with this conductor last year attending a lecture he gave on Mahler’s First, and the performances the following days. He swept away many notions that have become traditional, while not necessarily urtext, of how Mahler should go, bringing back the exaggerated portamenti that have been missing from (in particular the Ländler-like sections and the woozy, boozy chunks of Klezmer).

In its way the Beethoven is every bit as revolutionary as the Mahler, and equally difficult with its abruptly dramatic, nearly irrational changes in tempi, dynamics, scale and orchestration and it was in these challenges where Moody proved himself to be amazingly adept – masterful even – in controlling the shape and arc of this music and the attention to detail at each of numerous transitions. It was remarkable to hear – particularly when your home team is not Berlin or Boston. Moody is what I like to call an “audience comforter; he always looks comfortable doing what he’s doing (this is not to say he lacks intensity) but rather that we are learning very early that those transitions some of us worry present the potential for a train wreck, to his credit and our good fortune, never come.

I heard in this performance a conductor who has studied his Szell, his Bernstein, but also seems influenced by the best of the old “Romantic German School of Conducting” without its ponderousness, while still retaining the necessary gravitas this symphony needs in key places.

This was nowhere more evident than in the massive second movement, the famous “Funeral March,” which provided some of the best playing of the orchestra all evening. There were moments where sections threatened not to square up with each other, but they almost always did, adding a delicious tension to this music. And there were moments when the full richness of the string sound was as luxuriant as one could hope to hear. This was particularly notable in the fugue, where Moody achieved as remarkable a thing as I have ever heard in this hall. Here was intensity, a momentum that looked not only forward, but backwards and sideways – the strings making that striking statement, picked up and punctuated by the basses as the oboe sneaks in even more mournfully and . . . well, words simply cannot convey the shared feeling that seemed to flood the hall as the power of Beethoven overwhelmed (I’m tempted to state the obvious, so well “from beyond the grave.”)

Balances were nearly perfect in the final movements, the scherzo, a crazy quilt of delicacy and bombast (which would serve Beethoven well in all he would come to write for us later), with the finale offering a nicely nuanced, slightly edgy vision of “heroism” ending with warmth, energy and a generous lightness of mood. I like the direction we’re going here.

Upon returning for the second half, one couldn’t help but notice the stage was now filled with a Mahlerian (or Wagnerian) sized orchestra, chairs and stands for seven soloists, a piano, movie screen and an enormous battery of percussion instruments. Accompanying Maestro Moody to the stage were seven actors from Portland Stage; Ron Botting, Maureen Butler, Moira Driscoll, Mark Honan, Daniel Noel, Bess Welden and Michele Livermore Wigton, attired in costumes from the era and country each was later to represent in the Maine premiere of young American composer, Peter Boyer’s piece “Ellis Island: The Dream of America.”

I admit the snob in me at first balked when I read how this piece has left every audience leaping to their feet, how sniffles and sobs could be heard in each performance and . . . well, I wasn’t expecting to be won over. It is unmistakeably “American” music, with nods towards Howard Hanson, Aaron Copland, Samuel Barber, Scott Joplin the Bernsteins – both Leonard and Elmo, and a dash of John Williams. It is program music, every bar has a cinematic feel to it and before one dismisses this, we need to realize and appreciate that this is part of our heritage too. Is it “great” music? I neither know nor can be the judge of that. What I do know is it would take a heart of the stoniest cynic to not be moved by what Boyer has produced here with a score that mines most of the great human emotions and unfailingly stirs fervent patriotism in every breast. Throughout the piece, and at its immense conclusion, I felt such pride I thought I might explode both in tears and with laughter at the sheer joy of being an American.

This is theatre of an unusual stripe, an opera for speakers and orchestra. This sounds novel, but Beethoven, Debussy, Stravinsky, Prokofiev and others have done similarly and Mr. Boyer follows their lead unflinchingly, unapologetically. The lights dimmed and a short fanfare introduced us to hundreds of faces in a beautifully edited film of slides showing immigrants arriving and being processed at Ellis Island; faces of hope, fear, relief, elation and most of all, freedom.

The seven actors each narrated the experience of an actual immigrant who, as part of the Ellis Island Project, shared their tales of their voyage and their dream of America. Boyer’s score surges and soars in filmic fashion but not as mere soundtrack but rather part and parcel of the entire work. I heard all around me, choked back tears, sniffles and laughter – some of it my own, and yes, at it’s conclusion, with the beautiful recitation of Emma Lazarus’s sonnet “The New Colossus,” the stage went bright and the score exploded with light and color into a shattering fortissimo that left 2,000 people cheering and standing. I thought of my question again: Is this great music? I now have to say, yes. Yes, it is.

An Evening With Renee Fleming

The Portland Symphony Orchestra's benefit concert: "An Evening With Renee Fleming" turned into a total love fest at Portland's Merrill Auditorium tonight. In fact, it surpassed my wildest dreams (mostly).

Under Music Director Robert Moody, the concert began with Richard Strauss's gorgeous "Rosenkavalier Suite." Some of the opera's most beautiful moments - with its smile inducing waltzes, and breathtaking melodies - are honed into a 25 minute rhapsodic version of Der Rosenkavalier" - (for people who don't want to be bothered by the singing). The opening phrase gave me pause for concern and things (I thought) were getting off to a shaky start. Within about two minutes, however, the orchestra settled down and by the middle section of the suite, magic began happening, and by the first "Tempo di Valse" one could not have desired a more lush, rich and often times nuanced sound than what was coming from the stage. It truly was magical and ended with Strauss's particular brand of insane gorgeousness. It was fun, also, to see Maestro Moody, half-waltzing away on the podium, and his groove was infectious!

Then La Fleming appeared - a vision in an Angel Sanchez gown, somewhere between beige/champagne and rose, with an enormous stole that would be used to great effect throughout the Strauss.

Often used to hearing her primarily through recordings -and having heard her numerous times, one needs to be reminded that Fleming's is not a huge voice and adjustments to listening must sometimes be made. While the orchestra seemed to have toned it down, Frühling was nonetheless difficult to hear, and several phrases seemed to simply disappear. Things improved in September, but not entirely. By Beim Schlafengehen, however, all kinks seemed to be worked out and Fleming and the orchestra hit a stride they'd remain on for the rest of the night. The song was nothing short of glorious, Concertmaster Charles Dimmick's solo introducing one of Strauss's most beautiful phrases in dramatic fashion, before being picked up by Miss Fleming whose voice handled with great subtlety the ascending passing tones to positively thrilling effect - it was, literally, breathtaking. "Im Abendrot" continued in this vein, Fleming even creating magic by standing rapturously still during that amazing postlude. People seemed incapable of refraining from applause during each number, but the ovation that went up following "Abendrot" was simply enormous. The Four Last songs were followed by an exquisite reading of "Morgen" that had the house erupting after Miss Fleming's best singing of the night to this point.

Following intermission, and grabbing a microphone, the diva had me just a touch worried about the second half, joking about her change of gown ("I gotta keep your interest ...,") etc., but I realized I just needed to calm myself down. She spoke about this, her first trip to Maine and the things (like this great orchestra) that completely bowled her over. She then introduced John Kander's beautiful "A Letter from Sullivan Ballou." Fleming's reading of this piece (which she created) was tear inducing and by its end was accompanied by stifled sniffles from all 'round the house.

Moody and the band launched into a deliriously delicious rendition of Richard Rogers grand "Carousel Waltz" which, like the Rosenkavelier Suite, took a moment or two to get going but, bar-by-bar, gained in intensity and caused a minor roar during the last chords. I realized, once again, how lucky we are to live in town this small with an orchestra this good. It's amazing. Seriously.

Miss Fleming returned for my biggest surprise of the night: the piece I looked least forward to, titled simply "Medley" - arranged by Dave Grusin & Lee Ritenour (two musicians I love by the way). It turned out to be two of my favorite American songs "The River is Wide" (Waly Waly) and "Shenandoah" - and in their jazz-lite/classical arrangement both the orchestra (augmented by piano and a more jazz-like percussion section) and Miss Fleming had me moved to tears. Gershwin's "Summertime" showed a few more jazz leanings than is typically heard in full performances of "Porgy und Bess" but Fleming felt natural in them, (acting up a storm, by the way) and not only did no one seem to mind, we seemed to prefer it this way. At least at the time. Yes, it was that magical. Cole Porter was represented in a jazzy version of "So in love" that was both delightful and touching.

The printed concert ended with "I Could Have Danced All Night" from "My Fair Lady," the diva and maestro requesting the audience to join in, so Fleming could sing a jazzy obbligato over the melody. In a lifetime of attending "pop" style concerts, I've never heard an entire audience - 2,000 strong - sing with this much gusto. And they (we) sounded good, causing Renee to mention this to her list of surprises. From here on in, it was standing ovations, return curtain calls and Fleming seemed genuinely surprised by the response, telling us what a blast she was having here, admitting re-thinking doing encores - and wanting to return to this hall - "but in the summer, next time."

Fleming's best singing of the night came in the first encore - a return to Strauss, with "Zueignung." It was as good as I've ever heard live or on a recording (and I've heard it a lot).

Another ovation, brought a delightful rendition of "O mio babbino, caro" . . . and the house would not let her go.

The final encore was a slightly jazzy version of "Somewhere over the rainbow" - one that makes purists cringe, but which set the house afire once again with endless bravos, wolf whistles and cheers.

As we exited, people were glowing, every face was stretched into broad smiles, (even the ushers).

They were able to announce this benefit concert was the biggest seller in Merrill Auditorium history, raising over $50,000 for the orchestra.

This truly was one of the greatest night's I've had since moving to this beautiful town, and truly a great night for the Portland Symphony.