SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

Berio, Berlioz, Stravinsky: Chicago Symphony Orchestra, Susan Graham (mezzo-soprano), Pierre Boulez (conductor), Carnegie Hall, New York, 26.2.2008 (BH)

Berio: Quatre dédicaces: Fanfara (1982); Entrata (1980); Festum (1989); Encore (1978; rev. 1981)
Berlioz: Les nuits d'été, Op. 7 (1840-41)
Stravinsky: Pétrouchka (1911 version)


Pierre Boulez must have been given a paint box with different colors than the rest of us.  That possible genetic anomaly is the only reason I can imagine that he was able, on this occasion, to create a version of Stravinsky's classic Pétrouchka, using the same score that we have heard countless times, yet here cleansed and unfurled with unimaginable vigor, detail and plumage.  Of course he doesn't work alone; some near-miraculous playing from the Chicago Symphony Orchestra helped him, on an evening at Carnegie Hall that will go down as one of the year's most memorable.

Acknowledging the importance of the piano part, Boulez placed the instrument right in front of the podium, with the orchestra's superb Mary Sauer sounding now and then as if the composer had written her a piano concerto.  Stravinsky's huge chords were often given a slight rasp, keeping lulling smoothness in check, and the score leaped up with a raucous jeering quality that consistently commanded attention.  From the start, the tempi telegraphed "no need to rush," and as a result the glittering colors had room to stretch, lovingly vivid.  Finely wrought details were everywhere: an extended triangle passage that made the instrument seem capable of more than it actually is, followed by a flute solo that would have made Messiaen proud.  Often a tiny phrase would stick in the memory, such as a flute flutter followed by cymbals and a single harp stroke, all helping to refashion the score in the mind's eye.  The snare drum and trumpet solo near the end were as pristine as they come, and the entire ensemble seemed to be churning up surprises, with layers of harmony and rhythm constantly in flux.  Afterwards, on the street, people were flooding out of Carnegie Hall in a daze.

But the first half was equally riveting, starting with Berio's Quatre dédicaces, four short works written separately and corralled as a group by Berio's publisher after his death (at the request of Paul Roberts, the composer's longtime assistant).  Individually they are astonishing; as a group they are overwhelming.  Since they were written for festive occasions, they all share that energy, and are as brilliantly colored as Respighi.  I especially liked the second, "Entrata," with its clattering percussion and brass and restless snare drum that keeps wandering into the mix, ultimately leading to the group's ending in a fortissimo blaze.  The third is all violent pandemonium, while the fourth, "Encore," is again filled with a relentless percussion tread, this time with showers of bells.  They leave an exhilarating aftertaste, and I hope the orchestra will record them, or release one of the live performances on its own CSO Resound label.

And there was still more.  In between the orchestral festivity, Susan Graham applied her lustrous mezzo and French diction to Berlioz's Les nuits de'été, six songs with texts by Théophile Gautier.  The same orchestra that could have smashed crockery in the Berio retreated to a hush for these gentle, grace-haunted songs.  Graham's timing in the second, "Le spectre de la rose," was on point that she got spontaneous applause, although if I were inclined to do so, I would have saved it for her astonishing "Absence."  After the gust of passion in the final "L'ile inconnue," the audience couldn't hold back any longer and burst forth with a flood of cheering.

Bruce Hodges


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