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              SEEN 
              AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL CONCERT REVIEW
               
            
            
            Handel, Vivaldi, Respighi and Bach:  
            Gerard Schwarz, cond., Elisa Barston, violin, Seattle Symphony, 
            Benaroya Hall, Seattle, 17.10.2008 (BJ)
            
            
            
            
            Music from the 18th and the two previous centuries made up this 
            pleasantly undemanding and no less pleasantly undoctrinaire program 
            in the Seattle Symphony’s “Basically Baroque” series. It was 
            undoctrinaire in the sense that original scores were presented 
            beside pieces orchestrated years after their creation by 20th- and 
            21st-century arrangers.
            
            Except insofar as we always hear music through the filter of the 
            performer’s personality and musicianship, the first half of the 
            concert offered direct encounters with works by Handel and Vivaldi. 
            Music director Gerard Schwarz gave Handel’s Concerto grosso in G 
            minor, Op. 6 No. 6, a performance combining rhythmic vitality with a 
            richness of tone–on modern instruments–that an ascetically inclined 
            purist might have found excessive, but that I thoroughly enjoyed. 
            There are more ways than one to skin a cat, or to perform old music, 
            and Schwarz’s way with the latter activity falls well short of 
            exceeding the bounds of good taste.
            
            Next came two Vivaldi violin concertos that neither I, nor I suspect 
            most members of the audience, could recall ever having heard 
            before–RV 217 in D major and RV 331 in G minor. Without emulating 
            the tunefulness of better-known Vivaldi works, they both provide 
            plenty of musical sustenance, especially in performances as skillful 
            and committed as those provided by the orchestra’s gifted principal 
            second violin, Elisa Barston. Again, the tone she drew from her 
            instrument (made in the 18th century by Carlo Ferdinando Landolfi of 
            Milan) achieved a lustrous opulence far removed from 
            period-instrument austerity, and the result, enhanced by her 
            incisive phrasing and musical acumen, was fresh and satisfying.
            
            After intermission a further filter–the arranger’s prism–was 
            interposed between original creations and contemporary listeners, 
            illuminating rather than distorting the music in the process. This 
            was my first encounter with Respighi’s orchestrations of three Bach 
            chorale preludes: Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland; Meine Seele 
            erhebt den Herren; and Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme. 
            They are really fine arrangements, especially the first, which 
            clothes the tune in a quite wonderful web of dark orchestral 
            sonorities. Here as throughout the evening the orchestra, with 
            several guests filling in for principals who were away to perform in 
            the Seattle Opera’s Elektra production, nevertheless played 
            with all its accustomed polish and expressive warmth.
            
            Respighi’s much more familiar Suite No. 1 of Ancient Airs and Dances 
            followed: arrangements of pieces by Simone Molinaro, Vincenzo 
            Galilei (father of the astronomer), and two anonymous renaissance 
            composers. Respighi is a seriously underrated master, perhaps 
            because the sheer sonic splendor of his famous Roman tone-poems 
            strikes the ears of puritanical persons as altogether too much of a 
            dangerously good thing. These more modestly scored arrangements, 
            which still have ample color and an admirable textural clarity, seem 
            to me to provide a legitimate way of enjoying some 
            charming tunes we should otherwise never have a chance to hear, 
            rather as Liszt’s operatic piano fantasies did for 19th-century 
            audiences.
            
            Schwarz ended the evening with his own orchestrations of four 
            Contrapuncti from The Art of Fugue. They were eloquently 
            played, and effectively blended restrained instrumental colorings 
            with fidelity to the spirit of Bach’s text. To tell the truth, I 
            find the tonal uniformity and rhythmic squareness of these assuredly 
            masterly fugal essays a shade tedious in such a grouping; in 
            particular, I find it curious that the composer should have chosen 
            for extended treatment a fugal subject that, unlike those of most of 
            his greatest fugues, begins so firmly on the main beat of the 
            measure. But I know I am in a minority in my somewhat qualified 
            enthusiasm for Bach, so let it pass, let it pass.
            
            
            
            Bernard Jacobson
            
            
            
            
            
	
	
			
	
	
              
              
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