SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

Messiaen Turangalîla-symphonie: Nicolas Hodges (piano), Cynthia Millar (ondes martenot), Saint Louis Symphony Orchestra, David Robertson (conductor and moderator), Carnegie Hall, New York, 15.2.2008 (BH)

Messiaen: Turangalîla-symphonie (1946-48)


Who in the packed Carnegie Hall audience would have ever suspected that Matt Groening, creator of The Simpsons, is a huge Messiaen fan — so much so, in fact, that in his animated series Futurama, one of the characters is "Turanga Leela."  This was one of many odd factoids that spilled out during David Robertson's energetic talk introducing Messiaen's vast Turangalîla-symphonie, which the Saint Louis Symphony Orchestra played in its entirety in the evening's second half.

But Robertson began the demonstration by immediately launching into the mammoth pillars that open the first movement, and some three minutes later he put down his baton, faced the breathless audience and said, "And that's how Messiaen starts the Turangalîla-symphonie."  Aided by projections on the back wall of paintings by Sonia Delaunay (Rhythme couleur, from 1939), Sam Francis (Polar Red, from 1973), and others, Robertson drew visual parallels with Messiaen's concepts, including his notion of "a chord coming from heaven."  Deeply religious, his faith permeates his work, sometimes to the point of seeming naïve; God spoke to him clearly, expressively, and simply.

So after intermission, at approximately 9:05 p.m., the lights dimmed and Robertson and his splendid orchestra launched into Turangalîla's ten movements with a fervor that at times threatened to shake Carnegie Hall to the ground.  Starting with the fateful "statue" theme—an enormous tower of brass alternating with huge string glissandos—the orchestra was soon in full cry, like a machine that now cannot be stopped.  The clarinets offer a contrasting "flower" theme, and soon comes the piano—here the formidable Nicolas Hodges, whose virtuosity reminded me that in some ways this work feels like a symphony with a piano concerto grafted onto it.  Meanwhile his colleague, Cynthia Millar, made mastering the ondes martenot appear as easy as playing a guitar.

Some timbres sometimes seem like outtakes from Stravinsky's Le Sacre, with shrieking instrumental turns and abrupt, tricky rhythmic transitions.  Now and then the texture calms down, such as in a solo for the pianist and the concertmaster in which the latter plays a small wooden block, before the orchestral engine revs up and speeds off, a convertible racing into a cloud of fog and glitter.  Some sections sound chirpy, as Messiaen evokes the sounds of birds with shrill flutes, piccolo and percussion, before broad string washes descend in waves of iridescence.

Before the tumultuous fifth movement, "Joie du sang des étoiles" ("Joy of the blood of the stars") Robertson turned to cheerily invite the audience to applaud at the conclusion.  This exuberant scherzo combines powerful, syncopated rhythms, heavy textures with bells rolling through like marbles, a hair-raising piano part with Hodges hardly breaking a sweat, and virtually all played at maximum volume.  The applause that followed was more like the ovation given rock stars.  In contrast, the sixth section, "Jardin du sommeil d'amour," is a soft murmur, like a languorous erotic afterglow while birds look down from above.  Messiaen may go on and on here, but then, who doesn't want love to linger?  This performance made the best case I've heard for the composer's extravagant phrases and repetitive patterns, which in the wrong hands can be merely overblown and annoying, like a proselytizing friend who won't stop shouting at you.

In the final section, all elements seem to collide in a glorious transcendence, ending with what sounds like the climax of a joyous, raucous cosmic circus.  (Did I mention that this is not a quiet work?)  What ultimately made this evening so satisfying is Robertson's ability to find meaning in the quiet sections, touching listeners' hearts with the composer's plaintive supplication. Those intimate moments allowed repose, even moments of contemplation, making the miraculous ending even more awe-inspiring.

Bruce Hodges


Back to Top                                                    Cumulative Index Page