American Mavericks III: It Might Get Loud- Varèse, Feldman, Adams, Bates

I've long admired Thomas May's program notes and I was halfway through reading about Mason Bates' Mass Transmission, commissioned by San Francisco Symphony for the American Mavericks festival, when I thought to myself May must have written this, so I turned to the end and lo and behold, I was right. He also wrote the notes for the other commission premiering this night, John Adams' Absolute Jest. May's notes are so well-written and intriguing that my anticipation for hearing these two pieces rose substantially- and I was already thinking this would likely be the best concert of the five offered. He almost got me thinking of the other pieces on the program, Morton Feldman's Piano and Orchestra and Edgard Varèse's Ameriques, for which he didn't write the notes, as afterthoughts.

I only mention this because the reality of the concert itself proved to be the opposite of what of I anticipated. After hearing Bates' wonderful Alternative Energy performed by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra when they rolled into town as part of the American Orchestra series last month, I was primed for more. Mass Transmission is nowhere near that level. Resting somewhere between Deep Forest and The Art of Noise, the three part work for organ (Paul Jacobs), chorus (conducted by Donato Cabrera) and electronica (Bates), seems like an extended fragment culled from something larger, but there's little in it that led me to want to hear more.

Adams' Absolute Jest should really be credited to another composer- Beethoven, because on hearing it for the first time the only memorable parts are those lifted by the former more or less straight from latter's late quartets and scherzo of the Ninth Symphony. Great choices to borrow (steal?) from, to be sure, but if the listener knows these works even casually, Absolute Jest comes across as little more than a Beethoven mixtape performed by an orchestra- "Ah, there's Op.131! That's from 127! Yes, there's the Scherzo again..." and so forth for twenty minutes. This didn't stop the orchestra from giving it a strong, vigorous performance, and there was something quite thrilling indeed in hearing an entire string section play riffs from the quartets, with the added bonus of having the powerhouse St. Lawrence String Quartet rocking the center of it all with glee, but I was somewhat dumbfounded by the standing ovation the work received and felt like we had all just been had- as if the joke were on the audience for thinking there was something substantial in it all.

I will say, however, The St. Lawrence String Quartet really impressed me. This was the first time I've seen them and I would go out of my way to do so again- even if that means heading all the way down the road to Stanford.

Just before launching into the Feldman, MTT decided to say a bit about the piece, which he obviously didn't plan on because he didn't have a microphone at hand. He was hard to hear from where I sat toward the rear of the orchestra, but I think he was alluding to the similarity between the composer's work and those of the painters he admired- especially Rothko. Sadly, MTT didn't do his impersonation of Morty, which is pretty damn funny.

I vividly remember going to SFMOMA on a rainy afternoon one day years ago, looking at Rothkos, and thinking what the fuck?- I could paint that. Thankfully I was with a guy who was an art history major and I asked him to explain the paintings to me. It only took a few minutes of his comments for me to realize I could never paint anything like that. Feldman's Piano and Orchestra is similar in that on its surface it appears quite simple, and its slow, meditative pace, quietly played, isn't easily penetrated without concentration. This isn't made any easier by the part for the soloist, here performed by Emmanuel Ax, who seems to do little more than chime in somewhat regularly with two dissonant chords. But as the piece progresses, and once I started understanding what I was hearing (it did take some time and some deliberation) I was amazed by its structure and the power underneath its placid surface. By the time it concluded, I was deeply moved and impressed by the performance and felt it truly defined the spirit of the festival.

But MTT wasn't finished, and after a long break to organize the stage to accommodate 125 musicians, including fifteen(!) percussionists, he led the orchestra in a stunning, pulverizing performance of Varèse's Ameriques. The antithesis of Feldman's quiet complexity, this was a barrage of sound I could physically feel coming from the stage. Mark Inouye led the brass section through a storm of outbursts and the percussionists created more noise than I would have thought possible, and in the most wonderful way. Taken together, the pieces on the second half of the program proved to be the highlight of the festival (though there's one more program left of chamber-sized pieces)- and truly defined what makes a "maverick."  

Best of a Beast: 2010

Looking back on the year's performances I realized it wasn't a good year for Bay Area theater, but it was a great year for LA Opera, which claimed three spots in the top ten. SFJazz is also on a roll, which presented two shows on the list. Overall I saw about the same number of performances as in 2009, and the mix of what ended up in the Top 10 is similar to last year's, though not by design. This year the list is ranked, starting with the best. The links will take you to the original post.

1. The Los Angeles Opera Ring Cycle, directed by Achim Freyer
    Visionary and thought provoking, this was Wagner for the 21st Century, and truer to the composer's idea of Gesamkunstwerk than any production I've ever seen or read about.

2. San Francisco Opera's Věc Makropulos
    A perfect match of artist and material, with all the supporting pieces perfectly in place made this the most talked about production San Francisco Opera has staged in years, and justifiably so.

3. Lulu at the Met:
    I never posted about this, as I saw it in the midst of a whirlwind trip through 5 states in 2 weeks back in May, but this was outstanding on every level. Marlis Petersen as Lulu was sensationally decadent and gave Berg's anti heroine an amazing depth. Anne Sofie von Otter's Countess Geschwitz and James Morris' Dr. Schön were also incredible. The conducting by Fabio Luisi was  superb. Everything about this was, in a word, perfect.

4. Esperanza Spalding at Davies Symphony Hall
    A spellbinding, phenomenal performance by a young artist who seems destined to have a major impact on the world of music far beyond jazz.

5. John Adams and the San Francisco Symphony  
    The performances of Harmonielehre and El Niño, with Michael Tilson Thomas conducting the former and the composer taking the helm for the latter proved three things without a doubt: the San Francisco Symphony is performing at its peak right now and has never sounded better; John Adams is a genius; the relationship between the two, now more than 25 years old, must be considered one of the most fruitful collaborations of our time.

6. LA Opera's Il Postino
    No one thought this opera was going to stink more than I did. When the reviews came out unanimously praising it, I had to go see for myself what all the fuss was about. Still skeptical as I took my seat, when it was over I wished I could see it again. Even though it was written for Domingo, this has the goods to stick around for a long time after the legend has called it a day. An accessible, beautiful, contemporary work and a great production.

7. LA Opera's The Stigmatized
    LA Opera's Recovered Voices programming has put some truly memorable productions on the stage in the past couple of years and this was one of the best. Sadly, the program has disappeared from next year's schedule. Let's hope this is only temporary, as productions like these of operas that have been neglected for too long here in the U.S. finally see the light of day. NB, this was no novelty, but as deserving to be seen and heard as anything else that appeared on any major house's schedule in the past year. Brubaker and Silja were fantastic- and Conlon was again in peak form.

8. San Francisco Opera's Die Walkure
    Perhaps the most aurally satisfying experience of the year, which more than made up for the nonsense and creepy perversity onstage.

9. Lila Downs at Herbst
    You should have been there. If you weren't, don't miss her the next time.

10. Antibalas at the Great American Music Hall
      This band from New York is an incendiary experience of funk, Afro-funk, and so much more, but none of that really matters. They tore it up in legendary fashion for more than two hours, if for nothing else simply for the sheer joy of doing so, and simply because they could.

Other notable performances:

Christopher Wheeldon's Ghosts performed by the San Francisco Ballet
Vasily Petrenko conducting the San Francisco Symphony
The Burroughs and Kookie Show: Late Night in the Interzone
Hardly Strictly Bluegrass

With thanks and gratitude to Penelope, the Femme Fatale, Maria Gostrey, Chad Newsome, CC, GG, Madame Merle, the Swedes elder and younger, the Greek, Miss Trixie, Ann Enigma, Axel, Patrick, the OT, A Naturalized Southerner, La Divinavila, Dr. Hank, Craig, Reid and the Minister's Rebellious Daughter for doing it with me.

John Adams and the San Francisco Symphony

Since I'm so behind with updating this Beast I'm going to do a twofer here, which is appropriate because the concerts I'm writing about are part of the San Francisco Symphony's Project San Francisco program featuring the work of John Adams. Last Thursday night Chad Newsome and I experienced the return of El Niño. Tonight the Femme Fatale and I heard a miraculous Harmonielehre. Had I not been flying down to LA the next night I would have definitely returned to hear El Niño again. Since I have no plans this Friday I've decided to hear Harmonielehre again. Yes, it's that good- get yourself a ticket and get ready to be spellbound.

I'd never heard Harmonielehre performed live before, which is to say that since I live in an apartment and respect my neighbors I've never really heard it at all. It's loud. It's thunderous. It's like the vision which inspired Adams- a tanker steaming full speed ahead through the Bay that all of a sudden becomes airborne. I was recently thinking about all of those people shelling out $275 to see Roger Waters perform The Wall (sorry folks- I saw it twice in 1980- accept no David Gilmore-less substitutes) - they could have attended this for a fraction of the cost and heard some much better music that rocks equally hard.

Harmonielehre is around forty minutes long is broken into three movements. The first, which is untitled, begins with an extremely loud (the orchestra for this piece is huge), propulsive fit of rhythm wherein Adams acknowledges his minimalist tendencies of his past and decides to completely blow it off- and blow it up. Deeply absorbing the work of Sibelius strained through Glass, Riech and Cage, there are hypnotic repetitions which eventually dissolve into something slower, more meditative, without ever really letting go of the idea that harmony is something that can be felt as well as heard. How Tilson-Thomas kept the orchestra so in tune, so perfectly synchronized, was something of a small miracle here.

The second movement, called "The Anfortas Wound," refers not to a stab in the side, but one to the balls which won't heal. And it hurts. Starting slowly, it builds into an agonizing climax so involving that MTT got so caught up in it he smacked his baton against the score and the stick went flying behind him into the front row, causing him to lose his place in the score and for a moment he was furiously flipping pages back and forth to find his place while never losing control of the orchestra. MTT- nicely done! Never let them see you sweat!

The third part is entitled "Meister Eckhardt and Quackie." I'm not going to explain what that means- read the program notes before it begins for an explanation- but halfway through this part is where the realization struck me, becoming that involuntary "wow" moment where one realizes that what's unfolding in front of you, what you're hearing, is something unique and special, putting an involuntary smile on your face which stays stuck there for the rest of the piece. The  massive violin section is playing at full-bore, the horns are just fucking phenomenal and the percussion section is pounding it out like they're John Bonham.

You want to know more? There are three more performances.

The first half of the concert was good, but rendered almost meaningless by what followed. The orchestra performed Henry Cowell's modernist Synchrony, which gave trumpeter Mark Inouye some really shining moments and ends in a kind of Dies Irae/Scary Monster Music climax, followed by the fresh air of Mozart's 5th Violin Concerto, in which the always entertaining Gil Shaham was the soloist. The Mozart was a bit brisk for my liking, and Shaham did his impish "I'm a part of everything" bit as he shamelessly mugged for MTT, the orchestra and the audience by turns. I think next year he'll be onstage with Jeremy Denk and the girl who plays the cello like she's Pete Townsend in Beethoven's Triple Concerto. I'll see it just to see who falls off the stage first as they try to out-do one another in histrionics. It will be Bring it On- the classical music version.

So backing up and catching up, Chad and I ditched our company holiday party last Thursday and made our way over to the hall to hear El Niño. As I mentioned earlier, the debut of this piece in 2001 had a profound and lasting impact on me. It's remained one of my favorite concert experiences through the years-  something completely unforgettable on many levels and I was eager to experience it again. Last week's version was so different from what I saw and heard in 2001 it felt like an entirely different work. That's a good thing because my interest in El Niño wasn't nostalgic- I wanted to know what the work contained that enthralled me so much the first time- not necessarily to re-experience it.

The difficult thing is that so much has changed in my own life since then and I have to weigh that against the very significant changes made to the work as it appeared then versus now. What's objective? The first experience was conducted by Kent Nagano and featured film and dancers choreographed by Peter Sellars. It also had Lorraine Hunt-Lieberson in the cast for the world premiere. From what I've read, I was one of the few who found the film to be an integral, deeply moving part of the work. Maybe because I grew up in LA and not only recognized the locations in the film but was profoundly touched by the images it conveyed of Joseph and Mary as desperate yet hopeful Latino immigrants on the overcast beaches of Southern California. The dancers didn't work for me, but the film certainly did. When I walked out of the hall that night I felt a communion with people I'd never experienced before and have never felt since. It was that powerful.

Fast forward 9 years. Dump the divisive film and the dancers. Lorraine Hunt-Lieberson is dead. The 90's are well over and the U.S. has been at war for ten years and the country is as polarized as it's ever been. Adams is now the conductor and the magnificent Michelle DeYoung steps into Hunt-Lieberson's big shoes. Is anything the same now as it was in 2001? Are you the same as you were then?

The brilliance of the score is indisputable. Adams has crafted a contemporary oratorio on the birth of Jesus that can confidently stand next to anything in the canon. It's a masterpiece on so many levels. Dawn Upshaw returns as Mary and is flawless. Flawless! DeYoung makes the part her own through vocal perfection and a stage presence that exceeds that of Hunt-Lieberson, though I suspect few will give this tremendous singer her due in this particular role. Jonathan Lemalu takes over the role of Joseph and it works on every level. Steven Rickards, Brian Cummings, and Daniel Bubeck reprise their roles, angels clad in white, like three countertenors who just strode off a tennis court, to perfection.

Adams has difficulties navigating the behemoth, as he writes about on his own blog, but he does better than he thinks. He keeps this music alive in ways one couldn't expect. Nagano brought out the hope in the score but Adams brings out the doubt which is so appropriate to this time and place. He had to work harder at it, but the result was a performance that didn't confirm a miracle, but left the audience wondering if such things were really possible. It was intense.

As I told some people after the show, in 2001 after seeing this I left with a feeling that my hand had opened itself to the world and myriad possibilities. Nine years later, I felt my hand had become a fist, reluctant to let go of what I knew, in a world that has slowly closed in upon itself.

That's art, and these concerts will be on my year-end top ten list.