Fabio Luisi, conductor
Orchestra Hall, Chicago IL
November 16, 2008
Strauss Don Quixote
Jan Volger, cello
Brahms Symphony No. 4
This concert was an amazing experience. Dresden Staatskapelle is one of the oldest orchestras in the world, and that tradition came through in a very clear way to the audience. Sound and phrasing were the elements of magic that this orchestra brought to their performance, weaving an aural narrative unlike any orchestra I had ever heard. Jan Volger was also quite good, playing Don Quixote with sincere and convincing characters, a beautiful sound, and a very sturdy technical approach to his instrument. The Brahms, however, was the crown jewel of the concert.
The fine American orchestras that I have heard all have the ability to play with phenomenal ensemble, gorgeous sound, and control of color. Dresden played very well in those respects, though maybe not quite at the highest quality of the best American orchestra. They did, however, play with a collective vulnerability which was quite arresting. The thing that was extraordinary about this was that it was done by each and every member of the orchestra, and in a very personal and individual way. Which meant that every note and every phrase was felt by every member of the orchestra. This was most evident in the rests. Rather than count, or wait, the orchestra breathed and felt. It was the most extraordinary feeling to be in the audience when this happened. The air in the hall felt so tender and delicate—so held. And when the sound would start again, it was as if it was emerging from something inside that had been there all along.
On an analytical level, this type of engagement within the orchestra allowed some fairly amazing things to be done with phrasing in terms of time. This was especially apparent in all of the “hauptstimme” material that the first violins played throughout the symphony. The section was able to play with the abandon, intensity, and seeming spontaneity of one soloist because the idea of each phrase was internal, and the timing and color of it came from a unified consensus on how it should be felt. I’m not sure American orchestras and musicians are trained to start all music from an internal place. Rather, we look for the directions in the score, think about what stroke, where to take time, and how to accomplish whatever color. It’s similar to how college orchestra students finally learn that in order to play together, we all have to start from the string. Dresden Staatskapelle seems to work from the mentality that, in order to play together, everyone must be together inside, where the impetus for the music starts.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Guarneri Quartet 10/31/2008
University of Chicago Mandel Hall
October 31, 2008
Kodaly String Quartet No. 2, op 10
Mozart String Quartet in d minor, K 421
Dvorak String Quartet in F Major, op 96 “American”
The Guarneri Quartet has been playing together for 44 years, and is finally going to retire in 2009. I had never before had the opportunity to hear this group live, and this chance looked to be my last. Before arriving at the concert, I was nervous, as I sometimes am, about what I was going to hear. As usual, I was nervous that my high expectation for supreme greatness might not be met. In our culture of recordings doctored and spliced to perfection, one can sometimes end up with a less than real idea about how a performer or group will sound in person. I was also nervous, as I often have been, to hear great musicians who are in the sunset time of their careers. As a player gets older, the music inside of them does not change, only its ability to get out. The idea that I might be sitting in a room with one of the greatest musicians of my lifetime and that he or she might not be able to play for me all that they once could because of the natural decay of the human body makes me extraordinarily uncomfortable and anxious. So it was with trepidation, but with excitement, too, that I sat down to hear this concert.
I think a lot about music, and I think a lot about how to talk about music. But I truly feel that there is no way that I could put the quality of the music I heard that night into any kind of writing which would do it justice. So I will just tell. The ensemble of the group was unreal. It was as if they could think each others thoughts. After 44 years of playing together, they matched each other, rather than each other’s sounds or strokes. By this, I mean that they matched each other on the inside, and then probably did negligible physical matching, so that the impetus for each color, dynamic, articulation, and character came from a completely unified and utterly organic place. I first noticed this when I watched the violins play together. It was so together and so matched, yet so not artificial or manufactured. Sometimes in chamber music, we find ourselves playing from a slightly mechanical perspective for the sake of unity—so that “we all do the same.” These violinists played in a way that was so seamlessly matched that it made every other attempt I had ever seen at matching look like a joke. And yet, there was absolutely nothing mechanical to it. Every single note was felt and committed to personally on a individual basis within the group. Never before had I ever heard anything like it.
Never before had I experienced such a unified commitment to line and to interpretation from a quartet, and I have heard some extremely fine quartets. Because of that, the Guarneri Quartet played like one very exquisite and refined instrument. Their performance of the Dvorak “American” quartet was especially wonderful. Never before in my life had I felt any kind of meaningful connection with that piece, but the Guarneri Quartet played it in such a way that I will never forget it.
Although Arnold Steinhardt’s bow arm is no longer smooth the way I know it once was, the music was still all there. The sound, phrasing, commitment and character still all came through boldly and beautifully. I hope I never forget the way the quartet sounded that night, and someday I will tell my students that I heard them live, when I myself was just a student.
October 31, 2008
Kodaly String Quartet No. 2, op 10
Mozart String Quartet in d minor, K 421
Dvorak String Quartet in F Major, op 96 “American”
The Guarneri Quartet has been playing together for 44 years, and is finally going to retire in 2009. I had never before had the opportunity to hear this group live, and this chance looked to be my last. Before arriving at the concert, I was nervous, as I sometimes am, about what I was going to hear. As usual, I was nervous that my high expectation for supreme greatness might not be met. In our culture of recordings doctored and spliced to perfection, one can sometimes end up with a less than real idea about how a performer or group will sound in person. I was also nervous, as I often have been, to hear great musicians who are in the sunset time of their careers. As a player gets older, the music inside of them does not change, only its ability to get out. The idea that I might be sitting in a room with one of the greatest musicians of my lifetime and that he or she might not be able to play for me all that they once could because of the natural decay of the human body makes me extraordinarily uncomfortable and anxious. So it was with trepidation, but with excitement, too, that I sat down to hear this concert.
I think a lot about music, and I think a lot about how to talk about music. But I truly feel that there is no way that I could put the quality of the music I heard that night into any kind of writing which would do it justice. So I will just tell. The ensemble of the group was unreal. It was as if they could think each others thoughts. After 44 years of playing together, they matched each other, rather than each other’s sounds or strokes. By this, I mean that they matched each other on the inside, and then probably did negligible physical matching, so that the impetus for each color, dynamic, articulation, and character came from a completely unified and utterly organic place. I first noticed this when I watched the violins play together. It was so together and so matched, yet so not artificial or manufactured. Sometimes in chamber music, we find ourselves playing from a slightly mechanical perspective for the sake of unity—so that “we all do the same.” These violinists played in a way that was so seamlessly matched that it made every other attempt I had ever seen at matching look like a joke. And yet, there was absolutely nothing mechanical to it. Every single note was felt and committed to personally on a individual basis within the group. Never before had I ever heard anything like it.
Never before had I experienced such a unified commitment to line and to interpretation from a quartet, and I have heard some extremely fine quartets. Because of that, the Guarneri Quartet played like one very exquisite and refined instrument. Their performance of the Dvorak “American” quartet was especially wonderful. Never before in my life had I felt any kind of meaningful connection with that piece, but the Guarneri Quartet played it in such a way that I will never forget it.
Although Arnold Steinhardt’s bow arm is no longer smooth the way I know it once was, the music was still all there. The sound, phrasing, commitment and character still all came through boldly and beautifully. I hope I never forget the way the quartet sounded that night, and someday I will tell my students that I heard them live, when I myself was just a student.
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