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Tchaikovsky is one of my favorite composers. I especially like his symphonies, and his first piano concerto is equally a favorite, it is without a doubt a sublimely romantic composition. Therefore I was eminently pleased to experience this concerto with the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra and pianist Sa Chen. The PSO has invited several new and upcoming soloists this year, and they have all given such wonderful performances.| adjective |
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Words cannot fully say, but notes can -- notes beautifully transcribed by conductor and musician into music played on the finest of instruments, and music transduced into space and time which circles and surrounds throughout the atmosphere of the concert hall with its final destination: my ears, my heart and my soul. Those lovely sounds written hundreds of years ago by composers such as Saint-Saëns with his Piano Concerto No. 2 and Hector Berlioz, with his Symphonie Fantastique.
"Acclaimed French pianist Jean-Yves Thibaudet makes a rare PSO appearance in Saint-Saens Piano Concerto No.2, a concerto the composer remarked was a reflection of a sea voyage."
I want to make a special note that the Tubas and Harps were my favorite aspects of this piece. The harps, in that there were 4 of them, and they were easy to hear and accented several of the movements. It was fun to watch these four musicians perform with such synchronization. The tubas were fabulous, and stole the the last movement because they drove the special melody which so fantastically forms the foundation of this music. A melody that many would instantly recognize.
Last Saturday, October 10 at 2 pm at the Waterworks Cinema, Marvin Hamlisch and the PSO hosted a special screening of "The Informant!", for which Marvin wrote the original score. Prior to the screening Marvin discussed many aspects of his composition and lead a Q&A with the audience who where there to see this special screening.
This season the Pittsburgh Symphony has a theme for many of its concerts entitled "Inspired by Nature." What a fitting description, to me, of all of the classical forms of music. This evenings performance of Vivaldi's The Four Seasons was the first of these compositions that adheres to this theme. The seasons, Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter are deliciously represented by this music, it's easy to hear the specific parts and how they may represent each season in turn. The experience of this concert live at Heinz Hall was especially pleasing. The sound is so much better, and many of the bases and lower tones were brought out in crisp and clear fashion, with dimensional effects unrealized in audio recordings. This showcased the best of the PSO string section, and one Harpsichord.
After intermission came Richard Strauss' "Also Sprach Zarathustra" (the music most associated with the movie "2001, A Space Odyssey"). This is another one of those 'WOW' pieces that the PSO does so very well. Then came a piece commissioned for Richard Danielpour "Zoroastrian Riddles." I enjoy new music, especially when I can hear it more than once, so I look forward to experiencing the whole piece in the upcoming season. If you think about it, new classical music is really very much a collection of riddles, because to hear, absorb, and fully appreciate a composition, I find it is best to sample it again and again, to transcend first impressions, to build a deeper understanding and appreciation. Riddle me this Batman: Why not try it yourself? Come and listen to the PSO.The Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra was gracious in holding a reception in the Overlook room for all of the bloggers associated with this PSO blogs on May 2, 2009 after the concert conducted by Manfred Honeck. It was great to finally meet all of the others and to have some interesting conversations about the PSO and classical music. I held out hope that Honeck himself might drop by, but it was not to be. However, after the event was over, as we were exiting Heinz Hall, I looked back and saw Jennifer Pizzuto introducing herself to Manfred Honeck who had just exited the hall himself. They were both smiling, but I wasn't quick enough with my camera to capture the moment.
I want to thank Nicole Phillip who hosted the event, Kevin DeLuca, our contact and coordinator for the blogs, as well as the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra. PSO bloggers and friends - Jennifer Pizzuto(1), Matt Campbell(2), David DeAngelo(3), Cynthia Closkey(4), Elizabeth Perry(5), Justin Kownacki(6), Doug Bauman(7) and Louis Luangkesorn(8) 
Legend:
Diese Übersetzung ist für Manfred Honecks und andere Deutsch sprechende Freunde von der Pittsburgh-Symphonie:
Als nächstes: Honeck und Beethoven, eine passende Kombination. Ich habe zugeschaut, habe ich Meister Honecks dirigieren gesehen, und dann sah ich wirklich. Ich sah seine Bewegungen, seinen Stil, seine Interpretationen, seine pizazz, seine Mechanismen, sein Gemüt, und die Musik, die zu hören war, und es war schön.
Honeck hat einen besonderen Stil, aber es gibt viel mehr als das, eine Art Substanz, die in der Universalsprache klassischer Musik buchstabiert wird und mit abstraktem Temperament fließt, eingesponnen in spezifische Anweisungen für das Orchester und jeden einzelnen Musiker. Honeck bringt mir eine prächtige Wiedergabe von Beethoven Symphonie Nummer sieben, vielleicht mein Lieblingsstück, wenn man ein Lieblingsstück wählen kann. Diese Symphonie wird eröffnet mit einer langen Einführung zum ersten Satz, wie die ersten Schritte in eine schön bewaldete Landschaft, dann beginnt schließlich der ganze Satz.
Die Bewegungen Honecks werden im Dirigieren zusammen geführt/gefasst. Handbewegungen nach links und rechts, weiches Schwingen vor und zurück , das ansteigende Volumen anzeigend, dann für einen weicheren ruhigeren Teil, eine gerade aufrechte Haltung und einfache Bewegungen mit dem Stab. Der Dirigent hat eine Begabung für eine sanfte Sprache, und im Satz ist es fast das Gleiche-- ich meine, dass er sich nicht viel bewegt, seine Statur ist gerade und fein, und groß, und dann plötzlich, seine runden, sich wiederholenden Armbewegungen und das feine Auf und Ab seines Körper , die sich in fließenden und effektiven Ausdruck physischen Gefühls mit dem Orchester verbindet. Sie antworten. Der Klang ist perfekt, wie diese Symphonie von Beethoven, die perfekte Symphonie, das perfekte Orchester, und der beste Dirigent für das Spiel: eine große Kombination.
Der zweite Satz, einer der berührendsten Sätze, die ich kenne , beginnt fast geisterhaft. Er kommt diesmal mit erhabener Wirkung daher. Jetzt denke ich zurück an die Verbindung der Musikstücke des heutigen Abends, die Transfiguration. Diese Bewegung ist die Transfiguration von Beethoven, es gibt sonst nichts Vergleichbares. Es transzendiert meine Seele, geht tiefer und ruft mehr Gefühl als jede andere Musik hervor, die ich kenne. Das Tempo ist gut, aber ich merke, dass ich mehr will und doch ist es vorbei.
Jetzt der dritte Satz , was für eine Veränderung! Es ist alles wieder Teil desselben Themas, die Transfiguration: diesmal aus der tiefen Bewegung zum presto ,chango, und voila -- wechselt es die Gangart zu einem schnelleren Schritt , fast wie ein Rennen. Jetzt ist es Spaß mit einer Art verspielter melodischer Klänge, es lässt meine Füße mitfedern, und meine Beine sich bewegen, und ich sehe das gleiche beim Dirigenten: er springt und bewegt sich und bewegt wieder das Orchester zu dieser freudigen Musik.
Schließlich gehen wir vom schnellen zum schnellsten, letzten Satz. Es ist jetzt wirklich fast wie ein Rennen. Wenn ich sehe, wie Manfred Honeck diese Bewegung dirigiert, beginne ich wahrhaftig, die Verbindung zu Beethoven zu sehen. Und jetzt stelle mir ich vor, wie es sein muss, Beethoven selbst zu sehen. wie er diese Symphonie zum ersten Mal dirigiert. Und ich höre es ebenso.
Honeck wirkt fein, ernst , frei und dennoch effektiv beim Dirigieren. Nachdem die Musik beendet ist, gönnt er uns schließlich ein Lächeln , so breit und überfließend, dass es ansteckend wirkt, und diese Wirkung zusammen mit der schönen Musik vom Pittsburgh Sinfonieorchester beeinflusst das ganze Publikum. Schneller als ich es je zuvor gesehen habe, ist es auf den Füßen um ihm zu applaudieren. Und wir werden mit einer symphonischen Zugabe belohnt, er und der PSO geben uns eine Vorschau vom Konzert, das sie auf der Reise in einer Woche in China spielen werden. Wir hören den letzten Satz von Haydns Symphonie Nr. 88, und es war eine solche Freude!
(I started to translate this to German myself, but enlisted the aid of a friend from Germany. Danke!
http://www.flickr.com/photos/17878093@N05/
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Manfred Honeck entered the stage, and after one bow, began conducting the composition: "Tod und Verklärung" by Richard Strauss. This was my first chance to hear this piece live. I remember being impressed by the low drums at the beginning. I began to think to myself, what does this music mean to me? I found the juxtaposition of the words in the title interesting: Death (first) then Transfiguration. Words and music have temporal meanings, and this time I thought perhaps that this music was supposed to represent death, as only a beginning, and the further meaning beyond, and a contemplation of what that concept might entail, without prior knowing. And transfiguration, coming after death, what could it be -- is it a higher place? Is it like Earth and Heaven, as opposed to Heaven and Earth -- does the order truly come in a sequential fashion, or is it a concept that transcends time, in a manner that we truly cannot easily perceive, yet. All these thoughts came to mind, and flowed through the music. This was truly a beautiful score, and one that I enjoyed; and even though this isn't the first time I've heard this music, it somehow seemed to be the first time for a true appreciation.
The piano concerto with soloist Yefim Bronfman, was the logical follow up to the previous piece, or at least that was my initial thought: that this was sort of like a transfiguration in and of itself. The drama in the introduction of the first movement was appealing. The bases and deeper harmony seemed to dominate, with the violins following suit. Then the piano joined it, and what followed was beautiful, in its entirety this Mozart Concerto Number 24 is one of my favorites.
To whoever I overheard exclaiming at intermission: 'I liked the piano concerto, but I didn't really like the first piece', I must urge you to give new music a chance. To sample new music over a period of years. I think this kind of music grows on you. If you give it a chance, someday you'll be coming to the concert for the prospect of finding new gems in the repertoire.
Next up: Honeck and Beethoven, a fitting combination. I watched, I saw Maestro Honeck conduct, then I truly saw. I saw his movements, his style, his interpretations, his pizazz, his mechanisms, his mind, and the music that was there, and it was beautiful.
Honeck has a particular style, but there is much more than that, it is a substance which spells in the universal language of classical music, and flourishes with abstract verve spun into specific directions for the orchestra and each and every musician. Honeck brings to me a splendid rendition of Beethoven's Symphony number seven, perhaps my favorite, if one can pick a favorite. This symphony opens with a long introduction to the first movement, like the first steps into a beautifully wooded landscape, then the full bodied movement eventually begins.
Honeck's motions sum up the conducting. Hand motions left and right, full sweeping motions back and forth representing increased volume, then for a softer quieter part, a straight upright posture and simple movements of the baton. The conductor has a knack for being soft spoken, and in movements, it's almost the same thing -- I seem to think he isn't moving all that much, his stature straight, and subtle, and tall, then suddenly, his round repeated motions of his arms and some subtle up and down of his body in a fluid and effective outpouring of physical emotion connect to the orchestra. They respond. The sound is perfect, like this symphony from Beethoven, the perfect symphony, the perfect orchestra, and the best conductor for the match: a great combination.
The second movement, one of the most touching movements I know, almost haunting, begins. It comes through this time with sublime effect. Now I think back to the connection of the music for this evening, the transfiguration. This movement is Beethoven's transfiguration, there is nothing else like it. It transcends my soul, goes deeper and evokes more emotion than any other music I know. The tempo is good, but I find myself wanting more, and it is over.
Now the third movement, what a change-up. It's all part of that theme again, the transfiguration: this time from the deeply moving to the presto, chango, and voila -- it's upbeat and moving along at a quicker pace, almost racing. Now its fun with sort of playful melodic sounds, it gets my feet tapping, and my legs moving, and I see the same with the conductor: he is hopping and moving and again animating the orchestra into this joyous music.
Finally we go from the quick to the fast, the final movement. It's really moving now, almost like a race. When I see Manfred Honeck conduct this movement, I truly begin to see a sort of link to Beethoven. And now I imagine what it must be like to see Beethoven, himself, conducting this symphony for the first time. And I hear it as well.
Honeck seems subtle, serious and deliberate, yet effective when conducting. After the music is done, he finally dons a smile so wide and brimming, it is infectious, and this effect along with the beautiful music from the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra affects the entire audience as they simultaneously leap to their feet to applaud, faster than I've ever seen them go into a standing ovation before. And we are rewarded with a symphonic encore, he and the PSO give us all a preview of the concert they will be playing on tour in a week in China. We get to hear the final movement of Haydn's Symphony No. 88, and a treat it was!
A day like many other, and like no other day. Awake past dawn from a dream with a surprise, an old car parked in the garage of my old house in the woods. The day is alive with sunshine bright, warm and ready for bees. I watch CMU's sweepstake buggy races on the internet. The trees reach into my kitchen, and yank me outside, and the birds do say: why do you waste this day inside? You are right, I retort. So I spend the day with the birds singing surreal spring songs. I, in my way, plant flower and tomato seeds and ride bicycle high and low in the air with wind in my hair. To end a day like this is a thing to regret, but what better way than with symphonic music to hear, so I do it that way, my way.
The Pittsburgh Symphony appears, and I take my seat, turn off my cell phone, with ample cooperation, and made ready to enjoy the concert. Hushed silence, then the orchestra begins their warm up, the sound like no other, individuals all playing, nothing coordinated, yet it sounds so familiar, and sounds rather fine; how could that be, no composition, no rhyme, no reason, yet it sounds good to me.
Rachmaninoff, what more can I say? A concert filled with Rachmaninoff, the icing on top of the day. Goose bumps, appear on my neck, when the music commences, with Vocalise, music Conductor Slatkin dedicates this selection to the recently slain officers in Pittsburgh, and accordingly, he asked for a moment of silence after they play. This composition was perhaps unlike anything done before by Rachmaninoff. There was drama between sections of the symphony, and that accords places for sweet solos from the oboe, horn, cello and others. This time I hear no coughing in the audience, this time I heard pure music, I can hear each section, and drink in the music, with pure appreciation.
Rachmaninoff, Symphonic Dances: A simple story that I invent while listening to this music:
A bird soars back to her nest, beside the egg is a baby, hatched just the other day, she feeds him. He hops to the side of the nest, ready to fly -- no, my little one, not quite yet, you are not ready, if you try now you will get hurt, I must protect you until you are ready. He hops down and waits. The mother flies off in search of more food. The baby is belligerent and stubbornly tries to fly, and comes crashing down and is injured. First flight this time was to no avail, but the baby perseveres. He hops about and manages to find a high place to try again. He will try the flight of the gliding bird, bounding first then flapping, take to the air, spread his wings, then keep them still, try to glide, that is his goal. His plight is on display, sometimes falling down. His desire is represented by robust, loud, rhythmic, spirited passages, looming near a precipice, and about to dive forth, as if over a waterfall, and when this happens, it is only luck that brings him softly down in a soft, gently flowing, meandering stream and around a bend and into a bed, whence and as if that is where he had started, but not really. Adept at determination, he tries again. Flutter, perhaps his chance at flight is taking off a little, it could be done, it can be achieved, if only, but, plop, back down again.
Next movement brings a waltz, 3 um-pah sounds beneath his wings. Now we see a hawk in the guise of an altered horn, the odd sound that brings his menacing purpose home. The hawk, as is his nature, will eat a baby bird, but if he gets the chance, it will be to find a way to maximize his gain, he must have more than simply this one lone morsel. The baby continues on his quest to learn to fly, it's difficult from the ground, no perch to perch upon, so he continues to try from rocks and with hopping bounds. Low keys abound in the sound coming from the orchestra, this represents the overture of the hawk, he is now soaring above the baby bird. He talks to the baby. He convinces him that he is his mother. That he can be good for him, and the baby, filled with hope, instantly believes him. The hawk gives him food and teaches him a better way to fly. And he lures him to the hawks way of thinking, with nothing to interfere. But the baby has an innate nature, and that nature cannot be denied.
The baby bird escapes the clutches of the hawk. His scurry is frantic, his directions are wild and his wings fluctuate as he attempts a dive to avoid the chasing hawk. But his attempt is futile, the hawk recaptures the baby. But this time there is recapitulation, there are many other baby birds in the capture of the hawk. They all begin to sing, a song of different sounds, each their own, each an individual voice. These add up in syncopated sublime instantaneous coordination. But the wind is blowing. The wind dampens their song. Now a flock appears, a flock of adult song birds, who join the chorus. The sound is beginning to be loud and is culminating in a harmonic vibration all based on a single note, which happens to be the base frequency and harmonic resonant core vibration for the glass cages that hold the babies. It cracks. They are free, and the flock is too big, so the hawk flies away. Many individual voices, acting in unison with tempo and volume, was simply too much for him.
I've been waiting for many years to hear this Schubert symphony performed by the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra, and tonight I deliciously had my chance, especially the very end with that marvelous sawing of bows in such a deep and uniform aggregate, producing such rich an deep sound; four saws, followed by the horns in a higher key, then repeated again -- simply amazing!
Gianandrea Noseda was the perfect conductor, the centerpiece --
The hop in his step, and who didn't notice,
the animation, the concentration, the total dedication,
Noseda conducting the great Schubert symphony,
was the center of the show, poised at his station.
The animated conductor, the painter of melody,
the artisan, the craftsman, the illustrator of harmony,
with swagger and great vigor, dancing his rhythm,
dipping, as the lead, where the dance of the music,
is the heart of the show.
Majesty and romanticism, in a great C major,
the orchestra followed as if part of the wager,
right arm with baton, left circled around
as if to encompass, the players to surround.
The first movement would commence
fast tempo setting pace,
soft and subtle, then building a steady flow,
marching with rhythm, and off to the race.
Proceed to the oboe, a slow movement Andante
ever so slow, and yet somewhat jaunty.
Next Scherzo of three, is ever so free,
a joke on the inside, I happen to see.
Finale to hear, Allegro vivace, Allegro vivace,
so regular and nice they sure named it twice
Trombones with the horns, vivid and catchy
Deep sawing of bows, deep and concise.
Eleven years after Schuber's death this majestic C-Major symphony was first played, and legend has it that during the first movement, one musician mused: "I have not yet heard a tune." I've heard that there aren't many memorable 'tunes' in Beethoven's works either. But isn't a 'tune' nothing more than a melody? Yet I also read that there is indeed much melody present in this symphony by Schubert. And if melody is the tune, and there is indeed melody in this symphony, then why say there is no tune? Perhaps the complaint is the memorability of the tune. Is it memorable, repeated, rephrased, perhaps overly so? Perhaps the whole of Schubert's harmony and melody combined, in an amalgamation of building dramatic parcels of phrases, in a very rhythmic and marching style, repeated in various different ways and forms, with creative development, all lend my ears and mind to perceive a fantastic statement of beauty. When one ponders "Whatever happened to beauty?" -- one need not look farther than Schubert's Symphony number 9, the Great C-Major symphony. If I am to believe in legend, I'll believe this one: 'that having heard its first performance, Schumann is reported to have said he thought it the greatest instrumental work since the death of Beethoven'. I quite agree.
Last night on WQED-FM, a little after 8pm, I just happened to tune in at what I would call 'the perfect time.' Well anytime is a good time, but on this occasion it was indeed perfect because I was listening to a concert recorded a few months ago at Chatham University; a concert, coincidentally, I had intended to attend, but was unable. So I was delighted to hear this music, and with three members of the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra. Now admittedly, I didn't recognize it for Brahms, and I didn't recognize the artists while listening; it was surely pleasant and relaxing, sometimes driving and vigorous, and just plain great -- I remember thinking that this is the kind of music that I strive to hear. I was alerted by Ted Sohier after it was over, as to by whom and where it was performed.
The Chamber Music Concert included four women, alumni of The Curtis Institute of Music, performing together for the first time in Pittsburgh, and presented by Chatham University. This concert was held on Sunday, January 11, 2009:
Brahms Piano Quartet in G minor
Tatjana Mead Chamis, Viola - Pittsburgh Symphony Associate Principal
Heather Conner, Piano - Salt Lake City
Jennifer Ross, Violin - Pittsburgh Symphony Principal
Anne Martindale Williams , Cello - Pittsburgh Symphony Principal
Aha, so this was the Brahms that I was enjoying! That same concert.
There were several other pieces presented that evening, and oh, how I wish I had experienced them as well:
Robert Schumann - "Fairy Tales"
Henri Vieuxtemps - Sonata in B flat Major Op.36
Boris Pigovat - "Nigun" for Solo Viola (Pittsburgh Premiere)
Update: I've heard back from a musician of the PSO that there is a proposed cut of funds provided by the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania to WQED. This is sad news indeed, if it comes to fruition. In that event I would hope that WQED finds ways to make up for it. I've made suggestions to them every year, with my donation, the kinds of things they do in business. I don't know how much leeway they have, considering they are funded partly by the Federal government (NPR news is one expensive place to cut, I want to hear music, not news). I would be disappointed if whatever cuts mean that we no longer hear PSO music on the radio, that would be devastating. I'll be contacting my state representative to request they reconsider this cut.
Tonight I enjoyed a magnificent premier of a composition reconstructed by Renate Rosenblatt of a draft of an Oboe Concerto by Beethoven. When I say premier, I mean that it is the first time ever played with full orchestra. The acoustics at Carnegie Music Hall are more intimate, beautiful in their own way, and for the first time I experience true stereo, or perhaps surround sound. This is my first time at this beautiful hall. Being this close at this hall is a desirable place to be.
Renate Rosenblatt spoke herself before the concert, along with Jim Cunningham. We got to find out some more about the ideas and techniques she used to reconstruct the movement, the slow movement, based on a sketch done by Beethoven. It is now called the Adagio for Oboe and Strings. Some of here comments as she passed around the draft score: "The only thing that is legible is the opening theme, six measures... and the rest of it is sort of -- scratches, blots. Not every note was engraved in stone. He worked on sketch after sketch, and crossed things out -- was a little messy... It's like a jigsaw puzzle where some pieces are missing."
When the Adagio was over, I was more than impressed. I could easily imagine this being the original composition by Beethoven, in fact, I was wanting for more. I wished I could have listened to the first and third movements as well, if they existed.
Click here and here for the audio of the chat (not great quality, but interesting).
What an ornate entrance!
And inside, the hall is spectacular!
Anticipation, that's my initial sensation, while waiting for the "Dumbarton Oaks" Concerto by Igor Stravinsky. Such an intimate setting for the orchestra, clustered tightly as a small ensemble, seemingly so on the large stage at Heinz Hall. It began as a warm round of applause, as conductor Hannu Lintu appeared on stage without baton in hand; this would be conducted with hands only. The 'principals only' crew, arrayed around our guest maestro, in a compact semi-circle, commenced.
The beginning was perhaps like something that would be envisioned as an event at the Olympics, but no, that's too big, perhaps a race at the park. The sound was obviously not as large, but was lyrical and pleasant, as most of the phrases went from high to low, marching in rhythm, the pulse and beat of the envisioned race, continually flowing with the occasional brief pause, and ending slowly. Between movements a bout of coughing suddenly burst forth from the audience, it seemed as if a quarter the audience was coughing in what seemed to be mocked and feigned, perhaps to say once and for all: please, no more coughing during the performance. Conductor Lintu turned part way towards the audience, and laughter burst forth, all this happening in the few moments between the first and second movement; Not a typical scene, and worth noting.
This brief look at Lintu's humor aside, he next commenced the second movement with another flourish. This slow movement was quiet and tentative. The melody seemed to me to suggest these lyrics: "Count two, count three, stay airy and carefree; jaunty, frolic, but never catch a bee, I'm lucky and breezy." The whole Stravinsky concerto was pleasant, and was a good choice as a companion to the Prokofiev concerto, both having the same sense of perpetual motion.
Conductor Lintu did a spectacular job this evening, filling in at the last moment. His technique and energy were contagious. I enjoyed watching his conducting style, sometimes stern, others expressive, and always full of zest and pizazz. If the PSO were so inclined, I would like to see him again at the helm.
Yuja Wang played a magnificent rendition of Prokofiev Piano Co. No. 2, along with the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra. I saw it on the internet prior, but that just doesn't do this composition justice. It must be experienced in person, in a large concert hall like Heinz Hall. The sound is much bigger and grand. Watching the soloist was a treat. She not only played with stunning detail and amazing ability, her movements were spirited and accented many phrases with vitality. She seemed to meld with lyrical romantic parts, and race with spunky, get up and go, spirited passages.
Here is a video, same music, same pianist, but not the same orchestra www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z-OUnF4IS_8.
Some thoughts while watching and listening:
Pensive, then whirling like a march. Themes perhaps from Liszt and Tchaikovsky. Like a cascade, accelerating near the bottom of the falls, alarming and rejoining the orchestra. 2nd movement, with reverb, quick and fast like a chipmunk spinning and darting. 3rd movement, like a theme to a Hitchcock movie, interwoven with more themes from Liszt. Somewhat like the 2nd, but all grown up, now more like an elephant, with the conductor directing, arms and baton out like the trunk, rearing up the wind section, strings marching quite along. Reciting lyrics, mnemonic techniques remembered and revealed, almost whimsical, many voices, creatures scurrying all around. Now the cello versus the piano, a dramatic counterpoint, other instruments join in: don't be alarmed with my syncopated rhythm. Crossed arms now on the piano, with beautiful low pitched keys, blending into finale.
I really enjoyed the concert this evening, it was one of the best I've ever heard. The piano concerto was succinct and beautiful. Osorio did a great job.
One of my favorite symphonies of all time, from Dvorak, No. 8, was played with such verve, I was simply blown away, I can't explain it any other way, except, via a poem. I read later, in the notes, that the opening movement is 'surprisingly dark and pensive'. I'm not sure what they mean by that, perhaps the use of deeper tones, but to me, it is beautiful, and appeals to a fuller range of my appreciation. I don't find it in any way 'dark', just rich and vibrant. You tell me (external link). The use of bass, cello and viola simply add much color. I also want to thank Manfred Honeck and the PSO for the new seating arrangement of the musicians in this concert; the location of the basses on the left perhaps augments the sound.To be able to experience, live, Haydn's Oboe Concerto and Orff's Carmina burana in one evening was fortunate and exhilarating.
Haydn's Oboe Concerto is one of my favorite all time pieces. Something about it sends chills down my spine. I first heard it in the early 1990's on WQED-FM 89.3 at my work place, at lunch. A friend, after hearing me exclaim that it was a fantastic composition, told me to call the DJ and ask what it was, so I did. Paul Johnston, the DJ at the time, was glad to tell me it was Haydn's Oboe Concerto. So ever since then I've purchased a few versions, and have been waiting for the PSO to bring it to Pittsburgh. Well tonight I was not disappointed, the PSO premiere performance was just as great as I could have expected, and Cynthia Koledo DeAlmeida did a spectacular job on the Oboe.
The Carmina burana likewise did not disappoint, the live performance was so much more powerful than any prerecorded version. And what a surprise, all those lovely movements in between the opening and closing O Fortuna. This, therefore, I would consider as my first hearing of this complete piece, even though I did recognize one other movement in between. The complexion of the O Fortuna movement, and all the other movements, to my ears, and eyes, seemed someone different. Not knowing Latin, I did not know what they were singing, not a problem as the singing itself sounded melodious and understanding was not a requirement for enjoyment. The 'new' music
showed many light, airy and beautiful parts at first, much different than the opening, and not what I expected. Then when the solo singers began to sing what to me seemed to be a comic opera, beautifully performed, and some humorous body movements causing audience laughter, I was again surprised, pleasantly.
What is this piece? I kept wondering, it has so many elements that I find difficult to put together. All of the movements were lovely to hear, but I was in a quandary. The culmination of what seemed to be a love affair ensued, but I was not sure, and it seemed to come together at the end and a reprise of the O Fortuna concluded the cantata. Later, at home, I read the English translation of the O Fortuna (below). This seemed to indicate that perhaps this is a tragedy, and not a comedy, so again I'm confused. I see I've got some reading to do to bring myself up to speed. But the lingering impression was that the music was fantastic, and all the players of the Mendelssohn Choir of Pittsburgh, the soloists and the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra conducted by Manfred Honeck, did a fantastic job. I can't wait to experience this again, next time I'll have context.
English translation of "O Fortuna," a poem from Carmina Burana
"O Fortune,
like the moon
Stands constantly changing,
ever waxing
but waning;
hateful life
now oppresses
and then soothes
as fancy takes it;
poverty
and power
it melts them like ice.
Fate - monstrous
and empty,
you whirling wheel,
stand malevolent,
well-being is vain
and always fades to nothing,
shadowed
and veiled
you plague me too;
now through the game
I bring my bare back
to your villainy.
Fate, in health
and virtue,
is against me
driven on
and weighted down,
always enslaved.
So at this hour
without delay
pluck the vibrating strings;
since Fate
strikes down the strong man,
everyone weep with me!"
I frankly don't know for sure. I'm writing my thoughts on what it means to me. First, I've mostly heard the approximately 2 and a half minute segment of the O Fortuna, the most famous movement from Orff's cantata. Who hasn't heard this? It's so famous, that I suspect it is as recognizable as just about any other composition. I remember it was used in a television advertisement for the Marine Corps and one for the National Guard.Metronomic candor - Beethoven Symphony No. 8
Gorgeous serendipity, landed squarely on my nose
No lack of hesitation, dare rob me of my prose
Speaking speech in volume, pitched above three rows
Luck she barely knew me, and nimble on her toes
Born with trepidation, and furrows on her brow
A subtle time and mellow rhyme, and now's when I avow
Overture preamble, pioneering lead somehow
Further salutation, hello goodbye and ciao
What rapid introspection, as during tranquil lull
Was thought and then was lost upon, and glance would soon befall
Approaching gentle movement, commence and dart away
Lunge full bore, sawing bow and sweeping sooth foray
Steeped to incredulity, behind inquiring glance
Thread simple hesitation, woven as a dance
Morphing other voices, and rhythm to enhance
Stretched around my temple, unlikely as romance
Extend seesaw return chutzpa
Winding up reverb
Unleash what's raw and look voila
Adoration cannot curb
Start again, reprise and yet, consider slower still
Metronomic candor, ascending toward yon hill
Drowning with your grandeur, grasping for a thrill
Bass and sound revolve around, strings they do instill
Impetuous dampened softness, rich with full contour
Sweet and slender tremor, ascend with bass once more
Burst horns upon my consciousness, alert to hear the score
Prepare one heart for apex, last passion to endure
I really enjoyed the concert, and the Trio was new for me, and quite beautiful. The piano concerto was sublime (photo below with pianist Orion Weiss during the pre-concert chat: he was marvelous in the Grieg piano concerto). A few comments from Maestro Tortelier on his orchestration of the Ravel Trio. This is a very shortened list of the remarks that elicited a response from the audience, laughter or applause. He was quite entertaining during his introduction of the piece. Read the description for context.
I also very much enjoyed the first piece, I wrote this while listening...
My poem based on Jean Sibelius: The Swan of Tuonela
I would have preferred a different poem than Sachs, something more contemporary to or preceding the death of Mozart; perhaps this, and would that Lithgow could speak the speech, I pray thee, as I present it to you, trippingly on the tongue, and it would have been as this:
Dirge
COME away, come away, death,
And in sad cypres let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away, breath;
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O prepare it!
My part of death, no one so true
Did share it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
On my black coffin let there be strown;
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corse, where my bones shall be thrown:
A thousand thousand sighs to save,
Lay me, O, where
Sad true lover never find my grave
To weep there!
-- William Shakespeare