Berlioz, Debussy, Dukas: Susan Graham, mezzo-soprano; San Francisco Symphony, Michael Tilson Thomas, conductor; Davies Symphony Hall, San Francisco, 8.02.2007(HS)

 

 

Mezzo-soprano Susan Graham must be counted among the finest interpreters of French song at any time. Her conversational way with the text, sensitive inflections in both the words and melody, and feel for the unique Gallic pulse in the music make the results utterly natural. Though she doesn't shy away from drama, it seems to well up from inside the music, a neat trick. But the capper is the way the sound of her voice resonates with tremendous warmth, from the lowest notes to freely floating high notes a soprano might envy.

 

Graham lavished all that on a mesmerizing account of Berlioz' Les nuits d'été with the San Francisco Symphony and conductor Michael Tilson Thomas. Heard Thursday in the often-cold confines of Davies Hall on a rainy winter evening, Tilson Thomas' own warmth in this music turned up the heat more than enough to forget the weather. What emerged was close to perfection.

 

The all-French program of familiar material preceded the song set with Berlioz' Roman Carnival Overture, followed after intermission with Debussy's Nocturnes and concluding with Dukas' Sorcerer's Apprentice. If this qualifies as lighter-than-usual fare for midwinter subcription concerts, the orchestral and vocal color and precision of execution carried their own rewards.

 

Chief among them were the Berlioz songs, which MTT and Graham made into a series of miniature masterpieces. Graham extended long, floating phrases that seemed to take forever to evaporate into perfumed wisps. The opening "Reviens, reviens" in "Absence," for example, stopped time with its purity of sound and muted sense of desperation, not to mention a diminuendo that seemed not to want to to end. The quiet wistfulness of "Au cimetiére: Clair de lune" came through with all the perfume of the "flowers of the night" the song mentions. The light gallop of the finale, "L'Île inconnue," came as a refreshing drink after six such delicately emotional forays.

 

The opening overture was replete with fine solo and section work, not only the jaunty brass utterances at the end but, especially, Adam Dinitz's mellow English horn solo and the viola section's later rendition of the same tune. That led to a real-live viola joke. (The violists are the butts of many musician jokes.) The conductor came out for the curtain call and gestured to the viola section to stand. The violists stared back. He gestured again. They looked at him like deer in the headlights. Finally, after he motioned to them for the third time to stand, they timidly got out of their chairs. They just couldn't believe the maestro wanted them to stand up for a bow. (For those unfamiliar with the traditional ribbing of violists, try googling "viola jokes.")

 

Nocturnes emerged in great, floating waves, kicked off by another fine rendition of the opening tune by Dinitz in "Nuages." "Fêtes" was an exercise in developing tension within a precise rhythmic flow, and "Sirènes" featured the women of the symphony's chorus in fine form.

 

Who would have expected Sorcerer's Apprentice to outshine Nocturnes? It did, simply because Tilson Thomas and the orchestra seemed to be having so much fun with it. Stephen Paulsen's bassoon solo on the famous tune had some neat extra twists of emphasis (the downward skip in the second half of the phrase came out as something of a Bronx cheer). The tempo shifts throughout the piece emerged almost organically.

 

This program proved that heavy-duty music may not be necessary for a satisfying concert. All you need is some gorgeous singing and idiomatic playing carefully executed.

 

Harvey Steiman