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Gustavo Dudamel and the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra: Eyal Ein-Habar (flute), David McFerrin (baritone), Gustavo Dudamel (conductor), Israel Philharmonic Orchestra, Carnegie Hall, 16.11.2008 (BH)

Bernstein: Halil (1980-1981)
Bernstein: Concerto for Orchestra, "Jubilee Games" (1985-1990)
Tchaikovsky: Symphony No. 4 in F Minor, Op. 36 (1878)


I have now heard Gustavo Dudamel live four times, and after this latest fiesta with the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra at Carnegie Hall, I'm convinced he is no fluke.  While it is not fair to place him (yet) among the all-time greats, and it would be foolish to try to predict his career course, I feel comfortable noting that when Dudamel is in the house, the temperature onstage and off is likely to be high.

Leonard Bernstein wrote Halil to commemorate Yadin Tanenbaum, an Israeli flutist killed in 1973, and to ramp up the conflicting feelings, used a mix of tonal and non-tonal elements.  The ensemble veers back and forth from atonality to an idiom that might not be out of place in a 1950s film by Douglas Sirk.  Percussion is in the forefront—gongs, timpani and cymbals—and near the end a melodic fragment recalling West Side Story's "Maria" makes a brief appearance.  Eyal Ein-Habar, one of the orchestra's principals, spun out yards of tone, as if breathing life into the vanished flutist.  This is as good a time as any to note Dudamel's modesty, here and throughout the evening: during each curtain call, he acknowledged the soloist, then members of the orchestra, then the group as a whole, all while standing resolutely off the podium with his colleagues.

One of the musicians briefly introduced Bernstein's Concerto for Orchestra, "Jubilee Games," noting proudly that he wrote it for this very group.  It begins with shouts of "sheva!" ("seven" in Hebrew) seven times, and then "Hamishim!" ("fifty") celebrating the orchestra's 50th birthday.  The score is wide-ranging in technique, with some improvisation and pre-recorded taped sounds.  It ends with what could be a prayer for peace, and here baritone David McFerrin was richly expressive, appearing in the back of the orchestra to sing.  Throughout the score, the orchestra matched Dudamel's attention to detail, with some particularly stirring string textures.

But the highlight (other than the encores) was a taut and well-paced Tchaikovsky Fourth Symphony, done without a score.  At his best, Dudamel has an opera conductor's instincts for drama, encouraging the players to hurl themselves into the first movement's climaxes, including a feverish, window-rattling ending.  In the second movement, the many eloquent solos must owe something to Dudamel's body language, clearly telegraphing instructions without hyperactive gesticulating.  This became most clear in the third movement pizzicato, when he lowered his arms and let tiny head gestures do the job, only lifting his arms when the winds chimed in.  And in the finale, the musicians seemed to be completely swept up in a sonic sandstorm, as Dudamel let the music course through him.  Near the end, a slight slowing down only made his subsequent increase in speed even more dramatic as he and the orchestra roared to the finish line.

The audience went absolutely nuts, in a way accorded very few conductors today.  After a series of curtain calls, the sensuous first encore was the "Intermezzo" from Puccini's Manon Lescaut, sensitively done, but when the applause resumed, even more musicians appeared onstage.  Dudamel rushed out once more, and to the buzz of shaking maracas the group launched into Zequinha de Abreu's gleeful Tico-Tico No Fubá.  With the exuberant audience rocking to the beat, I could only chuckle, watching the Israel Philharmonic temporarily morphing into a sultry Latin dance band.

Bruce Hodges

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