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              SEEN 
              AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL CONCERT REVIEW
               
              
              Wagner, Jones, and Dvořák: 
              Gerard Schwarz, cond., John Cerminaro, horn, Seattle Symphony, 
              Benaroya Hall, 
              
              Seattle, 
              16.2.2008 (BJ)
              
              
              Gerard Schwarz’s tireless enthusiasm for new music was evidenced 
              once again with the world premiere of a commissioned work by  
              Samuel Jones, who has been the Seattle Symphony’s composer in 
              residence for the past decade. Jones, who was born in Mississippi 
              in 1935, made his most recent previous contribution with a tuba 
              concerto, premiered two years ago. That was a fluent, original, 
              and enjoyable piece, so it was natural that this latest commission 
              (the first fruit of the Seattle Commissioning Club, an admirable 
              collaboration set up by several Seattle couples) should be for a 
              piece expanding the repertoire of the horn.
              
              In John Cerminaro the orchestra possesses as fine an occupant of 
              the principal horn chair as any orchestra in the world can lay 
              claim to. The performance I heard (two days after the actual 
              premiere) demonstrated his special gifts to perfection. Cerminaro 
              is a poet of his instrument, not a cowboy, and the seemingly 
              infinite range of tonal nuance he commands was ideally summoned up 
              by Jones’s Horn Concerto. The work stresses intimacy and lyricism 
              rather than the horn’s more extrovert qualities, though without 
              failing to give even this masterly player a testing work-out in 
              terms of technical difficulty; it is, after all, in deploying 
              sustained tones at the quieter end of the dynamic spectrum that a 
              horn-player meets his most revealing challenge.
              
              Jones’s three movements, totaling a duration of about 27 minutes, 
              are indeed predominantly slow in tempo, with flashes of rapidity, 
              mostly in the finale, often coming quite unexpectedly but 
              effectively to rest. Instead of contrasting speeds, it is an 
              imaginative range of contrasting gesture that the composer has 
              used to secure variety of utterance. In a couple of passages, he 
              has had the notion of using a pair of offstage horns to echo the 
              soloist’s phrases. He uses this quasi-Mahlerian resource in a way 
              refreshingly his own, and the moment when two members of the 
              orchestra’s horn section made their appearance at either side of 
              the organ loft was a telling touch of theater. Harmonically, the 
              concerto’s essentially diatonic language, at times evoking 
              birdsong and conjuring up imaginary mountain-scapes, eschews any 
              kind of outlandish atonalism. This, if you come to think of it, is 
              surely inevitable in any music convincingly written for an 
              instrument whose entire playing pattern depends on the notes that 
              constitute the harmonic series. Of course, if you think a bit 
              more, taking into account the fact that the strings of an 
              orchestra’s largest sections are also harmonically and melodically 
              related in fifths and exploit the overtones of the harmonic 
              series, you may find it hard to avoid the conclusion–suggested by, 
              among others, Ernest Ansermet in his controversial study of The 
              Foundations of Music in the Human Consciousness, that such 
              techniques as the dodecaphonic method pioneered by Schoenberg 
              inherently make for the distortion of an orchestra’s natural 
              manner of expression.
              
              However that may be, this particular orchestra, on this particular 
              occasion, played its role in the predominantly tonal proceedings 
              in a manner that supported Cerminaro brilliantly, and Schwarz’s 
              commitment and meticulous preparation were evident in every line 
              of the music. The program had begun with three vividly played 
              excerpts from Act III of Wagner’s Masteringers, and it 
              ended with a performance of DvoÍák’s 
              
              New World 
              Symphony that would, in a program without a world premiere to 
              claim principal attention, have demanded a detailed and 
              enthusiastic critical accounting. Suffice it to say that Schwarz 
              and his orchestra were most commandingly in the vein, and his 
              interpretation, at once sensitive and athletic, served the music’s 
              strength and integrity without ever degenerating into 
              sentimentalism or mere bluster. Most magical of all was the famous 
              slow movement, which had an irresistible depth and flow, 
              highlighted by Stefan Farkas’s bewitching english-horn solo.
              
              
              
              Bernard Jacobson

