PROM
5: Ives, Bernstein, Hayden
Orli
Shaham (piano), Ralph van
Raat (piano), BBC Symphony
Orchestra, London Philharmonic
Choir, David Robertson (conductor),
Matthew Rowe (assistant
conductor), Royal Albert
Hall, London, 17.07.2007
(AO)
Charles
Ives Fourth Symphony
is one of the most important
works in the modern canon:
it’s such an amazing work
that an opportunity to hear
it shouldn’t be missed.
Certainly, it was, for me,
one of the highlights of
the entire Proms season
this year. It’s even better
experienced live, when the
full breadth of Ives’ imagination
can be appreciated. So why
was the Royal Albert Hall
so empty? This year there
were no bomb threats, traffic
disruptions and no heatwave.
Ives and Bernstein are big
enough names, and part of
the Proms tradition has
been the unveiling of new
work. For whatever reason,
those who didn’t attend
missed a superlative performance
of one of the 20th
century’s masterpieces.
Luckily, it was recorded
(rather well!) for television.
Don’t miss the repeats.
Another
good reason for attending
this Prom was David Robertson.
He’s a specialist in new
music and a major champion
of Ives in particular. In
a sprawling piece of music
like this, clarity matters.
Robertson has clearly thought
the piece through thoroughly,
understanding how details
work together to create
an intricate whole. Often
when I think of this symphony,
I think of Ives on a busy
intersection of a street
in New York, surrounded
by hundreds of people all
busy on their separate journeys,
converging for a moment
before dispersing again.
Ives creates an impressionistic
collage, where all the diverse
elements have separate "lives"
and connotations of their
own, and don’t mingle. Yet,
like the busy cityscape,
together they create something
beyond their individual
selves. That’s why Robertson’s
attention to detail is so
important. Each strand of
music is there for a purpose,
the country band, the chorus,
the hymns, because all of
them contribute to whatever
panorama of sound Ives is
trying to create.
It
needs a performance as lucid
as this, where the criss
crossing strands are woven
together with the precision
of….. a marching band, (as
Ives would have known!),
marching in formation, criss
crossing as they go, yet
never missing a beat as
they play. It’s most definitely
a symphony that needs to
be seen as well as heard,
because you can pick up
on the slightest nuances
of body language, ad see
how every player is listening,
intently, quick to respond.
Ives himself never heard
it played, and indeed it
wasn’t performed at all
until after his death when
Stokowski took it up. It
was such a challenge that
it took many more rehearsals
than was the norm, even
then. Robertson made it
look easy, but it isn’t.
That’s why there are two
conductors, and others helping
offstage. The rapport between
Robertson and Rowe – and
their vast forces – was
electric. This performance
confirmed just how important
and visionary Ives’ music
is.
At
its heart is a piano: a
lone voice amid the tumult,
weaving in and out. It was
a brilliant idea to juxtapose
the Ives symphony with Bernstein’s
Second Symphony, "The
Age of Anxiety", where
the orchestra circulates
even more explicitly around
the central figure of the
pianist. Orli Shaham deserved
a bunch of roses like the
one van Raat received later.
Based loosely on a poem
by W H Auden, the work wordlessly
follows a tight seven part
structure where ideas develop
in logical progression.
This is not the self-indulgent,
flashy Bernstein of popular
misconception, but far more
introspective. Robertson
knows his music well, and
appreciates that it is,
in essence, a kind of nocturne,
meant to be contemplative
and thoughtful. Bombast
is the last thing it needs.
Just as Ives weaves in musical
elements he hears around
him, so does Bernstein.
The references to jazz,
to movie music, to Stravinsky
and to Gershwin are deliberate,
because Bernstein, too,
is creating a panorama of
his age, and specifically
the musical landscape of
America at the time. Again,
Robertson’s profound knowledge
of the musical context gave
the symphony interpretative
depth and coherence. Bernstein
was a far more complex personality
than his public image might
suggest, and this performance
makes me wonder what he
could do with other Bernstein
works.
Although
the programme listed a complete
performance of Sam Hayden’s
new piece, Substratum,
only the last three of its
seven sections were in fact
performed, which makes it
hard to assess. However,
it seemed fairly straightforward,
nothing to scare away audiences.
Great blocks of sound rotated
slowly, carrying in their
wake swathes of orchestral
colour. As he says, his
music evolves both from
minimalism and the "new
complexity", so there’s
something for all : his
mentors were Andriessen
and Finnissy. But what vast
forces he uses – the orchestra
was of Brucknerian proportions!
Surprisingly, that made
Bernstein’s restraint all
the more impressive.
Anne
Ozorio
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