All but blowing the roof off Avery
Fisher Hall, Lorin Maazel ended his first subscription concerts of the
new season with a dashingly played Mahler Fifth, overflowing with details,
in an unexpectedly involving evening that had the audience cheering
at the end. From the opening bars led by Philip Smith’s laser-like trumpet,
the entire ensemble sounded strongly focused, even in this hall’s sometimes-strange
acoustic. But more on that in a minute.
The concert began with a new work,
Stephen Hartke’s Symphony No.3, written as a response to September 11
but with a purpose and style that could not be more different from John
Adams’ On the Transmigration of Souls, presented last year. Hartke
chose a medieval poem, The Ruin, that describes images of a great
city years after its destruction, and then gave the text to four vocalists,
in this case the expert Hilliard Ensemble, well-known for its dedication
to early music. The opening chord, quietly intoned on the word ‘wondrous’,
only added to the ancient, timeless feel. Some apparent balance problems
on opening night had been solved and the four soloists blended easily
with the orchestra’s shimmering, modal harmonies. I felt an almost immediate
empathy, and apparently many others in the audience did as well, judging
from the enthusiastic response.
But the Mahler after intermission
was the biggest surprise. I have heard reports of Maazel’s so-called
wilfulness -- stretching lines out of shape, micro-managing phrases,
sacrificing the big picture – but none of this seemed to be in evidence
when I was there. If anything, the performance might have been too streamlined
for those who prefer their Mahler with a few more rough edges. Yes,
there were the occasional moments when Maazel lingered over a passage
here and there, but for me, not enough to disrupt the overall sound
picture. As an aside, some of the moments that I find interesting in
this work, as elsewhere in Mahler, are those when time seems to stand
still – when the piece almost grinds to a halt, pausing to evoke a completely
different mood for a moment or two, before rising up to resume, or to
dash off in yet another direction. Yes, the score has plenty of forward
motion, but there are also those faraway moments, almost meditative,
as if the composer were inviting us to stop for a moment of contemplation.
The other distinguishing characteristic
of the evening, aside from the superbly confident playing, was the emphasis
on exposing more of the contrapuntal structural beams. Part of the genius
of this score is that it allows each interpreter to find different instrumental
lines to bring to the fore, slightly shifting the emphasis. All evening,
little figures emerged that I had never noticed before in Mahler’s dense,
scurrying writing. And Maazel also has a knack for nailing big moments.
In the final Rondo, the brass section almost seemed to burst into the
room, like some huge galloping animal bearing the final chorale.
This symphony is gorgeous, radiant,
and chockfull of pitfalls. No one is spared perilous solo entrances,
extreme registers, and sudden key changes, but in this instance the
orchestra, particularly the brass section, seemed to negotiate even
the most demanding passages with little or no strain. This was Mahler
as a gleaming supersonic jet -- and on occasion a little ride on the
Concorde can be enormous fun.
Bruce Hodges
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