Thursday, May 04, 2006

TSO: Poulenc and Ravel

I attended a performance by the Tokyo Symphony on the 28th of April specifically to hear the Poulenc Organ Concerto, a work which I’ve heard on recordings for forty years but which, through some quirk of fate, I’d never heard performed.

The program, conducted by Hubert Soudant, began with another organ concerto, this one a world premiere by, as listed in the program, K. Fujiie. It was only after she took her bow at the end of the piece that I realized the composer was female, although I suppose I could have looked at the Japanese text and seen that her given name is female. In any event, I wondered afterward if my reactions during the performance would have been any different if I had realized the composer was a woman. The piece is subtitled “At the Tomb of Fra Angelico”. It did not seem particularly elegiac, and I was struck by how two very different ideas seemed to prevail throughout the work – one jittery and modern sounding, the other lyrical and almost folkloric. It was only afterwards that a friend pointed out that Fra Angelico led a dual life – pious monkish painter and womanizer who once painted a Madonna and child which various interpreters have decided depicted his mistress and child. I don’t know if that duality was being reflected in the music, but it seems a good theory in retrospect. I found the entire piece to be instantly forgettable. It was pleasant while being performed, but certainly not monumentally profound or even particularly engaging.

The soloist, Frederic Champion, was naturally featured in the Poulenc Concerto which followed. This was one of those experiences which, as the old quote goes, was not overwhelming and not even whelming. My expectations were high, but the piece sounded just like all the recordings. Most of the time I hear something new during performances – a nuance at least, something hidden in the orchestration that had escaped my notice heretofore, some little surprise – but this performance was just utilitarian. Perhaps it’s not as great a piece as I think it is; yet, this performance did not shed any new light on the work, and I was frankly disappointed. M. Champion, by the way, could easily enter a silly walks contest – he entered and left the stage in a strangely bizarre manner, like a wildly frenetic wind-up toy. Very odd.

The second half of the program featured more Ravel (see April 23 below). During The “Daphnis and Chloe” second suite, the orchestra and the conductor came into their own milking every bit of sensuality and richness from the score. It was an excellent performance. This was followed by the old warhorse Bolero, although in the publicity and in the program it was listed as “Borelo” – the old Japanese r-for-l and l-for-r substitution. You’d think they could hire a competent proofreader. Of course the audience was thrilled by this chestnut. I can, I believe, live fully the remainder of my years without hearing it again.

Barshai's Mahler's 10th

On April 27 the Yomiuri Nippon Symphony Orchestra performed Rudolf Barshai’s “reconstruction” of Mahler’s 10th Symphony, under the baton of the reconstructor himself.

I am interested that this version is termed a reconstruction, since it seems to be more of a construction than a reconstruction. I recall being in the Grand Kremlin Palace once and asking about some work being done to restore two large halls which had been gutted by Stalin to create a utilitarian, and singularly characterless, meeting hall. The woman I was speaking to took great pains to point out that it wasn’t a restoration at all but a reconstruction, being as the original rooms had been completely destroyed. So I think it would be more fitting to call it the Barshai version of Mahler’s 10th.

Being an inveterate Mahler fan, I had eagerly awaited this chance to hear another version of Mahler’s last, incomplete work. I have heard the Cooke version performed and have a recording of the Mazzetti version, so this was my third experience of a monumental undertaking – to complete a five movement symphony in which some movements were only sketched out by Mahler before he died.

Leonard Bernstein disliked the idea of anyone trying to recreate what Mahler had envisioned; and he recorded only the first movement, the only one which I believe Mahler had been able to completely orchestrate. Of course, no one knows if he might not have made some changes in this movement once the others had been completed. In any event, the design was to be five movements forming an arch – the outer two movements long adagios, the second and fourth scherzos, and the third a brief transitional movement.

Barshai, who studied with Prokofiev and was a friend of Shostakovich, had apparently always been interested in this work and decided to give completing it a go. The results were pleasing and at times exciting. But, in the second and fourth movements, the ones which Mahler left the most incomplete, the tunes sounded Mahlerian but the orchestration reminded me more of Shostakovich than Mahler – overly heavy on percussion. Still I was surprised by how similar the structures of the movements are between the versions I’ve heard. It seemed that the orchestrations are the defining differences. And I must say that Barshai’s was as much fun as any of the others.

The YNSO is not Tokyo’s finest ensemble, in my opinion, and some of the passages were out of balance. And I tend to feel this was not the fault of the conductor. Barshai, who at an age over 80 can be forgiven one of the most seriously atrocious comb-overs I’ve witnessed, conducted with passion and intensity which was matched by the orchestra more often than not. Still, it would be more illuminating to have heard him conduct this work with a really great ensemble.

It was a memorable evening nonetheless.