Pierre Boulez (1925-2016)

Mahler, conducted by Pierre Boulez Wagner, Das Ring der Nibelungen (dir. Patrice Chéreau), Bayreuth Festspiele, P. Boulez

Pierre Boulez est mort! The lion of modernism died yesterday, at age 90, and is survived by all those phenomena he advocated destroying over the years -- opera houses, the Mona Lisa, the Paris Opera, history. While he was a tyrannical Futurist when it came to new music -- "We live in a century of libraries, drowning under the weight of amassed documents," he said in 2011, "They decry the Taliban for destroying everything, but civilizations are destroyed to be able to move on.” -- his greatest achievements were at the podium as a conductor, bringing an incisive clarity to old, even classic scores. His work in the Patrice Chéreau Centennial Ring Cycle is an eternal Ionarts favorite, and his conducting has featured in these pages, thanks to our European correspondents. We have had a few chances to hear some of his music performed in recent years here in Washington, but it has mostly left me unmoved. One can only hope that certain rigid compositional pieties will die with him.

To mark his passing, France Musique has published a multimedia tribute, Boulez à Facettes : de la fulgurance au plaisir, and you can watch a recent long (fascinating) interview with him from the Cité de la Musique (en français). You can also watch the 2015 tribute concert at the Philharmonie de Paris, at which Boulez's beloved ensemble, the Ensemble Intercontemporain, performed his composition Répons, with Matthias Pintscher conducting. The Chicago Symphony Orchestra also has a tribute page, as does the New York Philharmonic.

France Musique has also made available an old live recording of a concert that Boulez conducted in 1981, with the Orchestre National de France and the Choeur de Radio France. In addition to Stravinsky's Le Chant du Rossignol and Schoeberg's Pélleas et Mélisande, soprano Phyllis Bryn Julson is soloist in Boulez's composition Le Soleil des eaux.

Young Concert Artists: Seiya Ueno

Charles T. Downey, Flutist Seiya Ueno’s local debut performance sells itself (Washington Post, October 14)

Young classical musicians sometimes feel they have to turn to superficial or entrepreneurial ways to distinguish themselves. The local debut of flutist Seiya Ueno, presented by Young Concert Artists on Tuesday evening at the Kennedy Center Terrace Theater, was a reminder that the best way for a musician to sell himself is by playing in a way people want to hear.

The success of this recital came down to one pairing, Claude Debussy’s “Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun” and Pierre Boulez’s “Sonatine.” The Debussy arrangement showed off Ueno’s rich, polished bottom octave... [Continue reading]

Seiya Ueno (flute) and Wendy Chen (piano)
Young Concert Artists
Kennedy Center Terrace Theater

Raphaël Sévère

Brahms, Clarinet Sonatas / Clarinet Trio, V. Julien-Laferrière, R. Sévère, A. Laloum (Mirare, 2014)

Charles T. Downey, Young French clarinetist in fine form in D.C. debut
Washington Post, April 1

“The clarinet is quite possibly the easiest of all orchestral instruments to master,” composer (and clarinetist) John Adams wrote in his autobiography, “Hallelujah Junction.” Young French clarinetist Raphaël Sévère, winner of last year’s Korean Concert Society Prize, proved masterful in his Washington debut Monday night in the Kennedy Center Terrace Theater.

Adams meant that the full range of chromatic notes is relatively easy to produce on the modern clarinet and that what distinguishes an excellent clarinetist is the beauty of tone produced... [Continue reading]

Raphaël Sévère, clarinet
With Paul Montag (piano) and Paul Huang (violin)
Washington Performing Arts and Young Concert Artists
Kennedy Center Terrace Theater

Pollini Speaks about Boulez

Beethoven, Complete Piano Sonatas, M. Pollini (DG, 2015) Boulez, Piano Sonata No. 2 (inter alia), M. Pollini (DG, 1976)

Pierre Boulez turned 90 on Thursday. In his honor, Maurizio Pollini, who was last in this area in 2013, is playing Boulez's second piano sonata on a recital at the Philharmonie de Paris this Monday. Marie-Aude Roux caught up with Pollini ("scrupulously devoted to music but ascetic when it comes to the press") earlier this month in Milan, for an interview (Maurizio Pollini, un piano entre ascèse et passion, March 28) in Le Monde (my translation):

"I met Boulez in the early 1970s in New York," the pianist recalls. "I went back there twice later on to play two of the Bartók concertos with him. We subsequently saw each other often in Europe, in Paris, London, then in Tokyo. We used to speak about music for hours. He often produced trenchant views on this composer or that composer. But sometimes he did change opinions: on the subject of Berg, for example, whom he did not appreciate at all, but whose Wozzeck, Lulu, Chamber Concerto he later conducted magnificently."

Maurizio Pollini pulls himself up from the small white sofa in a living room that serves as antechamber. In one of the rooms off to the side, where two Steinway grand pianos are installed, covered with books and scores, he goes to look for one, a little worn, of the second sonata. "It is still just as difficult! It has been a few years since I have played it," he adds, "but it remains an integral part of my repertoire. It's a work that means to destroy the classical sonata by using it for the last time. One has to find a middle ground between the extreme tension of its writing and the intelligibility of the form, two things that are in conflict. I have looked for that balance, and I am still looking for it." Maurizio Pollini puts on his glasses. He turns the pages looking for Boulezien stage directions, what he calls the "elements of destruction." He indicates in a loud voice: "With strong, exasperated nuance," "Much more rudely," and stops, amused, making me notice with malice that this instruction happens at a soft moment. Each new indication is an added turn of the screw: "More and more chopped and brutal," "Even more violent," "Extremely bright, pulverize the sound." He stops, closes the score, as if worn out by the fight. "This second sonata is for me one of the grand masterworks of the post-WWII years."

He had much more to say, about his childhood in Milan, his favorite pianists, his partnership and friendship with the late Claudio Abbado. Hopefully, Monday's concert will be streamed on one of the French broadcast services.

Happy Birthday, Pierre Boulez!

Pierre Boulez is 90 years old today. The roaring lion of modernism, who once advised the destruction of all opera houses, has reduced his conducting and composing work in recent years. Celebrate his work in both areas with some streaming audio:

• Matthias Pintscher leads the Ensemble Intercontemporain and the Orchestre du Conservatoire de Paris, with soprano Marisol Montalvo, in Boulez's Pli selon pli (Portrait de Mallarmé), paired with Edgard Varèse's Amériques, recorded at the Philharmonie de Paris. [France Musique]


• In a concert recorded in 2005 at the Théâtre du Châtelet in Paris, Boulez leads the Orchestre Philharmonique de Radio France in music by Ravel (Ma Mère l'Oye), Debussy (Nocturnes), and Stravinsky (Firebird). [France Musique]


• From the Salzburg Festival in 2003, Pierre Boulez conducts Mahler's fourth symphony, with soprano Miah Persson, and Haydn's "Salomon" symphony, recorded in 1996 at the Wiener Musikverein. [ORF]


• The BBC Symphony Orchestra, under Thierry Fischer at the Barbican Hall, play Boulez's Notations and Pli selon pli with soprano Yeree Suh. [BBC3]

You can also have a look back at our articles on Pierre Boulez, his conducting, and his music.

Miranda Cuckson @ Embassy of France

Charles T. Downey, American violinist Miranda Cuckson kicks off Embassy of France’s Fusion program
Washington Post, January 27, 2014

Nono, La Lontananza Nostalgica Utopica Futura, M. Cuckson, C. Burns (2013)

The concert series at the Embassy of France has been reborn. On Friday night, the new cultural attaché, Catherine Albertini, appointed in 2012, introduced the first concert of a program called Fusion, intended to promote young French and American musicians in a spirit of international cooperation. While Quatuor Eclisses, a quartet of French guitarists, was slated to perform at the Phillips Collection on Sunday, American violinist Miranda Cuckson and pianist Yegor Shevtsov took the stage of the embassy’s auditorium. The series is presented under the aegis of France Musique, the French public radio station, which may broadcast these concerts in the future.

Cuckson’s program likewise highlighted the interchange of compositional ideas between France and the United States. The foundation of this 20th-century program was Claude Debussy, represented by his extremely late violin sonata, given a gauzy, subdued performance that suited Cuckson’s elegant, ribbon-like tone, which Shevtsov never overpowered from the keyboard. [Continue reading]

Miranda Cuckson (violin) and Yegor Shevtsov (piano)
Fusion
Embassy of France

Mahler Cycle | Concertgebouw | Boulez | M7

Amsterdam, with your crooked and badly isolated houses, legions of second hand and used-anything stores, restaurants that close at nine, grimy-wet winter days, awful hotels, dirty canals, expensive and rickety public transportation, pervading sense of dilapidation, your grossly exaggerated focus on secondary and tertiary pleasures and cheap ticky-tacky-selling tourist gift shops, be still my beating heart as long as you contain in your midst one of the world’s most lovely concert halls and in it “The World’s Best Orchestra”.

The opportunities to hear Pierre Boulez conduct are, let’s be honest, acutely limited. So the chance to witness him in Mahler’s Seventh Symphony was an obvious and welcome excuse to go to Amsterdam, even in the uninviting month of January. And what better cast—at least on paper—than Boulez and the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra could one get for hearing that elusive Mahler Seventh for the first time in concert? After all, the RCO’s Mahler credentials are nonpareil and Boulez’ recording with Cleveland is one of the outstanding contributions to the discography.

In rehearsal, unaware of the program apart from Mahler and assuming—rather than paying attention—that Boulez was mixing things up with one of his compositions, I thought to myself: “Oh, Pierre, you just pretend to be so avant-garde but you’re really a bleeding heart romantic at heart.” Egg on my face, seeing how he was rehearsing Webern’s Six Pieces for Orchestra, op.6. Then again, an unabashed romantic is of course exactly what Webern is. And the reaction might go to show that this romantic mooring of the Second Viennese schoolboys would be so more obvious to the listener if he or she came expecting Boulez, rather than romantic standards set by Der Rosenkavalier or the ‘Rhenish’ Symphony.

In concert, Six Pieces (in the original 1909 version) flit by in no time at all—rousing and enchanting en route, riveting and challenging to the ears. Piercing woodwinds, heralding trumpets, and distilled genius (if you’ve got the taste for it) made this—despite rampant coughing—in the very literal sense uncommonly beautiful.

G.Mahler, Symphony No.7, Boulez / Cleveland - DG

A.Webern, 6 Pieces et al., Boulez / BPh - DG

In a way, the works is the perfect introduction to the inner movements of Mahler’s Seventh Symphony, except that Pierre Boulez doesn’t go for shades of night or spookiness in this work. I struggle in vain to grasp that symphony as it is, but I get closest to having a grip when the Nachtmusik is actually nocturne-like, moonlit and mysterious, a nervously flittering intermezzo with Ligeti-String-Quartet-like crawling bugs and shadows amidst. Boulez chooses a route that strikes me more like a Haydn Andante, bright and chirpy, with gay dances and Schuhplattlering cows. That’s a difference in perception, but nothing that made any of these three movements less excellent. The timpanist’s clipped end of the Scherzo was full of wit, the first Nachtmusik soft-hued, not unlike a battalion of men marching from evening into night—determined rather than sentimental. Only the cowbells didn’t fit the picture, sounding more like some arthritic bovine stumbling through an ironmongery than ringing of musical cow paraphernalia wafting up down from alpine pastures. Boulez would have been justified to take a page from the Bruce Dickinson’s playbook and ask the percussionist(s) to “really explore the space”.

In the first movement Boulez didn’t linger—he got right into the gritty business and led the orchestra like a little metronome, steady, subtle, and with small clockwork movements. If and when he wants a triple fortissimo orchestral crash, he doesn’t fling his limbs about, he tells the players beforehand. Boulez doesn’t emote for the orchestra, he just provides the pulse. But that doesn’t make his interpretations any less emotional. Amid superb contributions from trombones, trumpets, and Wagner tuba, the first movement was a scorcher. The finale was a massive, a wonderful noise, jocular witch clenched teeth… Mahler’s ambiguously jubilant Meistersinger send-up (and the finale of Tristan & Isolde’s first act) ever obvious. In short: an evening befitting the great Mahler moments that must have taken place in the Grote Zaal of the Concertgebouw. And perhaps it’s no coincidence that the best seats in the hall—Balcony Front, Row 1, Seat Sixties-something—are the ones right above the plaque that bears Mahler’s name.

Ran Dank

Read my review published today in the Style section of the Washington Post:

Charles T. Downey, Nordic Voices group showcases Norwegian composers at National Gallery of Art
Washington Post, October 18, 2010

Israeli-born, Juilliard-trained pianist Ran Dank made a splashy Washington debut on Saturday afternoon, presented by Washington Performing Arts Society in the Kennedy Center Terrace Theater. The originally announced program was almost identical to what he played when he won the Young Concert Artists auditions in New York last year. Instead, Dank returned to some of his choices for the 2009 Van Cliburn Competition, where he finished as a semifinalist, one of several jury decisions to be criticized that year.

Dank played with impeccable technical surety, a point made by a boisterous performance of Liszt's "Réminiscences de Norma" transcription, a piece hardly worth the trouble of busting one's chops to play it. Miles of gauzy scales, dizzying double octaves, and fluttering repeated-note chords -- Dank conquered them all, rendering some of Bellini's vocal flourishes with a bravura more pianistic than bel canto. [Continue reading]

Ran Dank, piano
Washington Performing Arts Society
Kennedy Center Terrace Theater

Although I did not mention the encores in the review for lack of space, Dank played the opening piece of Schumann's Kinderszenen and, far more impressively, Nikolai Kapustin's jazzy Concert Etude No. 8. See the score and the composer's performance of the piece in the video embedded below.


Nikolai Kapustin, Concert Etude No. 8 (played by the composer)

Notes from the 2010 Salzburg Festival ( 1 )

Vienna Philharmonic 1 · 50 Jahre Großes Festspielhaus

The Salzburg Festival had already opened when I got here yesterday. It’s been going on since Sunday with the opening play Everyman, the opening concert of the Vienna Philharmonic on Monday, and yesterday with Wolfgang Rihm’s new opera Dionysus. I should have liked to see Dionysus¸ and will, but until I do I contented myself with the repeat performance of the Vienna Phil under Daniel Barenboim, where he played Beethoven’s Fourth Piano Concerto (conducting from the piano), Boulez’ Notations for Orchestra, and Bruckner’s Te Deum.

The Vienna Philharmonic, studded with strategically placed females in the Beethoven (two first violins), displayed a strange, possibly appealing chamber-like sonority in the opening of what is one of the most beautiful, perfectly balanced piano concertos ever written. The concert master stuck out particularly, with his sweetly melancholic tone—tone and playing of an old fashioned quality, which is to say: ever so slightly, wistfully out of tune. Unfortunately that was his best of the night; it went only downhill from there.

Barenboim’s pianism offered little to behold, aside from a few marvelous lyrical passages. Elsewhere it was rhythmically unstable, rushing to no effect, sometimes hasty, stealing time without giving it back, or stomping the rhythm down with his sustaining pedal foot, with a harsh attack… in short: forgettable, at best. At least they had time during intermission, when the curtain was raised to open the whole stage for the subsequent Boulez and Bruckner, to sweep up all the innumerable notes he had dropped.

But with a starry cast of singers for Bruckner promised, not many attendees will have come specifically for the Beethoven anyway. Nor for the Boulez, presumably, knowing the Salzburg audience. But to a few ears this might have been the point of particular interest, hearing the Vienna Philharmonic perform Boulez’ rich and fantastical Notations, that Barenboim-commissioned work-in-progress that has its roots in his 1945 op.1, twelve rigidly structured dodecaphonic pieces for piano. Barenboim programmed the five extant re-composed orchestral items in the order: “I – Modéré. III – Très modéré. IV – Rythmique. VII – Hiératique – Lent. Régulier, sans rigidité. II – Très vif – Strident.

I’m not sure how many members of the Vienna Phil looked forward to that, either, but at least as far as Boulez goes, Notations is pretty tame, cracks the occasional smile, and as an orchestral show-off piece it makes it easy to get into the spirit of. If there was any resistance to playing Boulez, the full-size orchestra, now up to 6, no, 7 females (adding two second violins, two harps, and one well hidden violist), didn’t show it. They acquitted themselves capably, not particularly precise and with as-you-like-it bowing, but with a much more than dutiful, if not outright enthusiastic performance. Best thing: seeing the Philharmonic’s percussionists in tails run back and forth at the wide back of the stage, trying to get to their various instruments in time.

Bruckner’s Te Deum, which I recently heard in a astonishingly soporific performance by the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra (otherwise the orchestra whose ‘worst’ I’d consider the ‘best worst’ of any orchestra I know—but under Daniel Harding apparently all bets are off), occupied a very special place in the composer’s œvre and heart. It was going to be his calling card when he waited in the antechamber of God. And there is of course his famous deathbed suggestion of taking the Te Deum as the final movement of the unfinished Ninth Symphony. He sketched it in 1881, composed the Seventh Symphony, then went back to it in 1883. The two works meet in the last line of the Te Deum (“non confundar in aeternum”, “let me never be put to shame”), the melody of which is central to the symphony’s Adagio.

Audiences realized the work’s value early on—it was by some measure the most performed of Bruckner’s works in his life-time. (It’s also conveniently short.) I have so far failed to ‘get it’, despite my deep, abiding love for Bruckner I prefer all his symphonies and masses to it. So in every live performance I hope to get my Te Deum Eureka moment. Would this, with such a cast—Dorothea Röschmann, Elīna Garanča, Klaus Florian Vogt, René Pape—manage? Yes—just about… but hardly because of the soloists.

For one, only the high voices—soprano and tenor—are of importance; the bass gets one short moment in the limelight and the mezzo none. Having Garanča on the bill looks nice, but that part must have been the easiest paycheck for her this season… a brief exercise in singalong. Röschmann was her usual vibrato-heavy but tasteful self while Vogt was missing some of his sheen in the heights (and the lows anyway). But the chorus and the orchestra, except for the barely intuned concert master’s solos, did well under Barenboim, who turned the terraced dynamics on and off at the flip of a switch, eliciting the music as a succession of somber exclamation marks—which now revealed themselves as Bruckner’s most confident such exclamation marks. Squeezed into proper structure, the Te Deum didn’t seem like a string of random outbursts anymore, which I had always found so confounding when compared to the symphonies. A most gratifying end to a satisfying second half.

On to Herreweghe-Pogorelich-Schumann-Chopin today.

Boulez Planning 'Godot' Opera for 2015 at La Scala

Renaud Machart went to Brussels last month to see a production of Verdi's Macbeth directed by Krzysztof Warlikowski at the Théâtre de la Monnaie. The critic had hated Warlikowski's infamous Parsifal at the Opéra de Paris in 2008 and was surprised, given that his Macbeth was cut from the same directorial cloth, to find himself so impressed. As Machart describes in his review (Le "Macbeth" incandescent de Warlikowski, June 15) for Le Monde, much of the action was set in a hospital ward; for no apparent reason a letter from a soldier in Vietnam to his wife was read before the curtain went up; and in the last act, again for no apparent reason, two half-naked men danced together in one scene, before suffocating themselves together under a plastic sheet. Machart tries to pull the allusions apart (my translation):

Are the men the incarnation of the desperation of these long wars without women, or should we find in the subterfuge of a male friendship the expression of tenderness and sexuality? Are they nothing more than a Viscontian or Pasolinian memory (Ludwig or Salo), or simply the underscoring of the languorous balance of an aria in the form of a slow waltz? A delicious mystery. Warlikowski is decidely better when he suggests rather than imposes.

So, big deal, another nutty production that has little to do with the libretto of the work it is purportedly trying to stage. Then, near the end of the review, Machart drops an unexpected and unrelated bomb (my translation):

The director decided to remove the chorus from the stage and positioned them in the theater's highest balcony, the "paradis" -- it worked when they were portraying the witches. Too easy? Perhaps (directors from the world of theater generally hate the burden of choral crowds), but the decision had two happy effects: the female singers truly looked like sorceresses leaning over their evil cauldron; the sound thus obtained had a "spatialized" richness, which, without requiring any electronic aid, could be of interest to Pierre Boulez for the opera that, according to our sources, he will adapt from Beckett's Waiting for Godot, planned for La Scala in Milan in 2015 [emphasis added].

Boulez and La Scala General Manager Stéphane Lissner are apparently close friends, which could explain how he could convince Boulez to undertake writing an opera. I read somewhere that Lissner had plans for a Boulez opera at some point in the future, but this was the first time I have ever seen a reference to the subject and specific date. Machart's comment was reported in the Italian press and made the rounds of some French online forums, but I have not seen it confirmed anywhere else. Boulez turned 85 this spring and would be 90 in 2015, which happens to coincide with the possible end of Lissner's term in Milan: if it happens, there is little doubt that a Godot opera by Boulez would be one of the most important opera premieres in recent memory.

Fêting Pierre Boulez

Pierre Boulez is 82 years old. Although he made the decision to step down from his regular appearances at the Bayreuth Festival a couple years ago, he is still going strong. Four Parisian institutions -- the Orchestre de Paris, Ensemble Intercontemporain, the Salle Pleyel, and the Cité de la musique -- are honoring Boulez right now, with four concerts by the Orchestre de Paris, three of them directed by Boulez. Renaud Machart has a review of the first one (L'oeil vif et le geste précis de Pierre Boulez, November 30) for Le Monde (my translation):

The Salle Pleyel was bursting at the seams on Wednesday, November 28, for the opening night of the series, a few weeks away from the 40th anniversary night (December 20) of the Orchestre de Paris. Pierre Boulez was opposed to its formation, quarreling with André Malraux, then Minister of Culture, and leaving France for some ten years. The years have passed. Boulez is still not afraid to speak out and, at 82 years old, continues to have a bright eye, a good ear, and a precise gesture. Do the audiences come for his music (tonight, Le Soleil des eaux) or for his conducting? Whichever it is, his programming is "organic" and impassioned, even if he is always crossing the same ocean, inevitably marked with Berg, Webern, Messiaen, and Stravinsky (but missing Schoenberg, Bartok, Debussy, and Ravel this time, the other regulars on Boulez programs since the beginning).

No, Boulez does not conduct drily: his Webern Passacaglia that night was venemous, almost gyrating, his Stravinsky Noces a model of bounce and jubilation (in spite of an unsatisfactory lack of balance, from the first balcony, among the percussion, the four pianos, and the solo voices). To be sure, the Orchestre de Paris would play Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique more easily than Chronochromie, one of Messiaen's most daunting scores. But do we hear Chronochromie and Noces all that often? And with the exception of Notations, is Boulez's orchestral music (whether you like it or not) played all that frequently? If it were only for these reasons, this cycle deserves to exist.

The November 30 concert by the Ensemble Intercontemporain at the Cité de la musique made a typical, fascinating thematic connection by pairing selections from the 7th book of Monteverdi's madrigals with Le Marteau sans maître, Boulez's 1955 cycle based on poetry by René Char (1907-1988). That sounds remarkable.

Ionarts in Provence: Boulez and Berlin Philharmonic

Saturday evening’s performance by the Berlin Philharmonic as part of the Festival d'Aix-en-Provence involved truly constructive programming. Held in the Grand Théâtre de Provence – just inaugurated on June 29, with very fine acoustics and a low-budget look – the program consisted of sets of pieces for orchestra by Bartók, Schönberg, Webern, and Berg, all of which were composed between 1909 and 1914. These hyper-formal, expressionistic works run counter to the decadence of late Romanticism and, one hundred years later, sound disturbingly fresh to most ears. Hearing works of the Second Viennese School together (plus Bartók) begs one to ask whether contemporary classical music in the 21st century has surpassed these monumental works in regard to formalism.

The confidence and, one might say, big ego of the Berlin Philharmonic may be observed before the music begins, when the orchestra is assembling on stage. Under the minimalist (and baton-less) conducting style of Pierre Boulez, this authority translated into memorable music making, where every line is espressivo and each phrase is pushed to the limit while keeping in overall balance. The first violin section showed leadership in terms of espressivo playing, not volume; and in addition to aural awareness between sections of the orchestra, visual contact was also observed between its musicians. This ideal level of coordination allowed the ensemble to play as one big musical whole – a model for most American orchestras to imitate.

Bartók's Four Pieces for Orchestra, op. 12 (1912), opened the program, and its first piece (Prèlude) began with a shimmering orchestration of harp glissandi and soaring flute and violin lines. Perhaps this lushness was a way for Bartók to hook an audience accustomed to Romanticism before delving into the chaotic material of the Scherzo. The fourth movement (Marche funèbre) contained dramatic silences and a descending motif making its way around the orchestra. Schönberg's Five Pieces for Orchestra, op. 16 (1909), opens in a bombastic way with the timpani having possibly the only motif. This purposeful absence of motivic material is more strikingly found in the third piece (Moderato), where Schönberg creates an even, drone-like texture – broken into Klangfarbenmelodie - that does not allow the ear to focus on one particular place; in turn, the focus of the ear is forced to magically spread everywhere.

Webern's Six Pieces for Orchestra, op. 6 (1909), contains some pieces of less than two minutes in length, though in these gems are an abundance of material. In some ways this work is a testament against the obvious practice of stating and then repeating themes. The back of the orchestra (winds, percussion, and brass) handles much of the playing in this set, especially in the fourth movement (Marche funèbre). The first piece (Prelude) from Berg's Three Pieces for Orchestra, op. 6 (1913-1914), is a palindrome. The third piece, March, contains angular motifs, which have a very wide range of travel, and builds in a simple 4-beat pattern to the powerful ending, where a massive wooden hammer is raised high and slammed down by the percussionist, creating a horrifying cracking sound.

Parallels could be observed in the fourth movements of the sets by Bartók and Webern, both Marches Funèbres, and in the Schönberg, Webern, and Berg, where the bass section repeatedly taps with bow the bridges of their instruments for percussive effect. The young American violist Carrie Dennis – seen in the past in the Philadelphia Orchestra – was the principal violist of this performance and handled solo moments in the Schönberg, Webern, and Berg with care and calm authority. One wonders how far this compositional tradition would have developed without the musical and political dislocations of World War I and World War II.

Further reviews of the Festival d'Aix-en-Provence are forthcoming.

Boulez’ Latest Mahler

G.Mahler, Symphony No. 2, P.Boulez / WPh / Schäfer, DeYoung DG

Many Mahler recordings have crossed my desk over the last half year, but to be honest, not very many were all that extraordinary. A swift, good, but somewhat indistinct Mahler 5th with Sakari Oramo and the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra (Warner Classics), a 1st as part of the ongoing Zander-cycle (coupled with Christopher Maltman’s excellently sung Songs of a Wayfarer) – a very fine account with his usual insightful, entertaining lecture on a separate disc by all means, but no stunner (Telarc). Bruno Maderna conducting the 9th is an intriguing but hardly definitive account (BBC Legends). Claudio Abbado’s 4th (DG), although reviewed a while ago, got its due on Ionarts a few days ago – and with it I mentioned the Fritz Reiner – Lisa Della Casa 4th on Living Stereo. Barenboim’s 7th is still awaited eagerly; Ormandy’s 1st and 10th will be forthcoming, hopefully.

Last Tuesday, however, brought a Mahler recording that finally lives up to its high expectations: the éminence grise among conductors, Pierre Boulez is only one step (the 8th) away from finishing his Mahler cycle with Deutsche Grammophone after issuing a 2nd with the Vienna Philharmonic, Christine Schäfer (soprano) and Michelle DeYoung (mezzo) and the Wiener Singverein. Offering great sound and superb, precise, pristine playing (as well as good effects for the off-stage brass), it rivals the 2003 Kaplan recording with the same forces on sonic grounds. Boulez has the superior soloists (Christine Schäfer is absolutely wonderful – the Anne Sofie von Otter of sopranos; Michelle DeYoung is a great choice, too; only Claudio Abbado’s Anna Larsson might do more for me) and most conveniently manages to fit the second symphony on one disc, not two.

Of course he would, champions and detractors of Boulez may say, because Boulez is reliably that: analytical, collected, detailed, cool, clinical even, occasionally understated and, of course, fast! (He might as well be lumped together with Pollini and the Emerson String Quartet for how commonly these all-too-easy adjectives are attached to him.) But Boulez isn’t terribly fast at all (Kubelik, Klemperer are faster, only Tilson Thomas’s Urlicht is slower in my collection) and he is certainly not cool or understated. Sure, he is not a Schmalz-dripping romantic, even here, but this is an emotionally wrenching, grand, glorious presentation of the symphony with positively transcendent moments – especially in the last movement. It’s less wild than Kaplan I, but more believably emotional than the Rattle recording, more riveting than the solemn, beautiful Tilson Thomas, more gently moving even than my (hitherto) favorite, the superb Abbado (Lucerne). Kaplan II is just as well recorded - but you can tell Boulez to be the superior conductor: moments of glory sound glorious, not duty-bound to be glorious. His account is smoother, for one. Or listen to the way the great plane opens in the 5th movement (8'00"); this elated, completely unbound, unburdened and free music, transporting, mesmerizing. Bird twittering, utter euphoria, as jubilating as it gets, before it sinks into a calmer state only to submerge entirely, as if swallowed by the great swamp of recurring melancholy. Then listen to the 'footsteps' he sets down as melancholy turns to determination (10'15") to the drum crescendos. They are assertive, superbly separated, weighty. At other points, upon close listening, you will find little pauses, one just a fraction longer than the other, that give this music a warm, realistic air of hesitancy. Over and over, there are details that add to a great overall impression - especially as concerns movements two to six. This is a perfect marriage of Boulez's usual finely played, detailed rendering with what makes it a warmly welcomed recording: passion!

This recording is the top-recommendation (still), in the ionarts Mahler Survey.

Susanna Mälkki Conducts Ensemble Intercontemporain

This summer I noted the appointment of Finnish conductor Susanna Mälkki as the new director of Pierre Boulez's Ensemble Intercontemporain. Pierre Gervasoni recently wrote an article (Débuts réussis pour Susanna Mälkki à la tête de l'Ensemble Intercontemporain, February 26) for Le Monde, describing her first concerts with the group (my translation and links added):

Pierre Boulez never goes unnoticed in a concert hall. Especially when it concerns the one in the Cité de la musique, in Paris, where the Ensemble Intercontemporain (Eic), which he founded in 1976, is in residence. For its 30-year anniversary, the Eic got itself a new musical director, Susanna Mälkki, a Finn only slightly older than the organization she will be in charge of beginning with the 2006-2007 season. She conducted the Eic on Friday, February 24, for the first time since her nomination, an event much anticipated by lovers of contemporary music and by ... Pierre Boulez. Apparently more motivated than intimidated by Boulez's presence, Susanna Mälkki got to work with a piece by Marc Monnet, for solo horn and 18 instruments. An introduction that put more attention on the work than on the interpreters, Mouvement autre mouvement (in the form of an étude), quickly elated the audience in an appeal to the senses, common in Marc Monnet.

It was not the solo horn who was leading the dialogue with the ensemble but his double, hidden beneath the stage. The illusion was carried off with the relay assured by the clarinet in a mysterious timbre that made it seem like an extension of the horn. Marc Monnet's ear training was successful. Although the practices of this soon-to-be sexagenarian composer, who does not seem his age either physically or musically, are familiar, one encounters the "other movements" with the sense of ingenuity found in all daring creations. One smiles while discovering the linguistic tricks (breathing and other noiselike sounds), more than language, required of the horn soloist, including Charleston cymbals!

The program also included György Ligeti's Concerto for Piano and Orchestra and, most interestingly, a version of Stravinsky's Pulcinella for three voices (mezzo-soprano Maïté Beaumont, tenor Johannes Chum, and bass Tigran Martirossian). Susanna Mälkki will conduct Ensemble Intercontemporain again on March 8 (all music by Magnus Lindberg) and March 25 (music by Jonathan Harvey and Emmanuel Nunes).

French, Finnish, Modern!

Some classical music lovers run for the hills at the mention of Boulez, Berio, Saariaho, and Dutilleux – others run to the Maison Française’s Contemporary Music Festival instead, to treat themselves to a refreshing dose of 20th- and 21st-century modern and modernist music. There is of course limited use in trying to convince (much less convert) members of the former section of (or to) the latter’s delights, but for those who “do” this kind of music, the French cultural programs under the auspices of Washington’s one-man modern music vanguard, French Cultural Attaché Roland Celette, are an oasis in this musically arch-conservative town.

Converts would have had a difficult time finding space in the auditorium last Friday, anyway; full of dedicated ears that weathered the snow as it was. In a program of French and Finnish works (for cello, clarinet, and the combination thereof), the distinguished cellist Alexis Descharmes and his equally talented, experienced, and enthusiastic clarinetist partner Nicholas Baldeyrou treated to works of the Argentine Daniel A. d’Adamo, the Franco-Swiss Michaël Jarrell, and Finn Magnus Lindberg in addition to the aforementioned composers. With half the composers under 50 and five out of six alive (Berio’s creative energy was somewhat dampened by his demise in 2003) it was a great and educational example of a particular brand of music with a pulse™.

Katja Saariaho’s Spins and Spells for cello was first to go and sounded like creaking pipes in an old apartment building during winter. Or, as the modern music maven in me would want to exclaim, it explored in fascinating intricacy the resonant and textural properties of the cello (scordatura – custom tuned – no less!) while spreading a holistic sound-cloth, tightly woven of metal strands over the audiences’ audile receptors. Take your pick.

Playing from six different positions and with his X-ray vision coming in handy in the specially darkened auditorium, Nicholas Baldeyrou’s presentation of Boulez’s Domaines explored overtones and sympathetic vibrations of low, long held notes cut into with shrieks, silence, and ambient sound. I suppose I prefer the version for clarinet and small ensemble, but for the solo version it would have been difficult to get someone better adept at making it work than the Ensemble InterContemporain-schooled Baldeyrou. Mr. d’Amato’s Breath for bass clarinet and cello (the former looks like a saxophone top and bottom glued onto a fat clarinet on growth hormones that sits in the middle) was, comparatively, melodious. Well, not really – but working with both – the instruments’ tone and the sound of their percussive mechanics made for much interesting material. In preparation for another Saariaho piece – Oi Kuu for clarinet and cello – there was a telling and amusing moment when the person setting the stage was temporarily confused whether he planted the score upside down on the music stand or not. Of course critics would leap at the occasion to point out that for the bit of difficulties that had temporarily beset that chap, the audience would have had greater difficulties, still, in noticing the difference at all, had Oi Kuu been played backwards and inverted. At francophile and modernism-embracing Ionarts, of course, we would never be so snarky.

L.Berio, Sequenze Ensemble Intercontemporain DG

Luciano Berio’s excellent Sequenze – here no. IX (there are 13 ½ - for solo flute, harp, women’s voice, piano, trombone, viola, oboe, violin, clarinet (and a twin, IXb, for alto-sax), trumpet/piano, guitar, bassoon, and accordion) – rounded off the first half with long lines and hectic little sound knots.

Henri Dutilleux, the old man of French modernism – a Parisian Elliot Carter of sorts – was represented with Trois strophes sur le nom de Sacher for cello which is based on the 1937 (?) Sache[r] motif (presumably E-flat - A - C - B – E) and honors the man that commissioned a slew of the most important orchestral works of the early and mid-20th century. Not coincidentally, it includes a Bartók quote from one of the works thus paid for with the money Sacher married into. Trois strophes offered more maturity than d’Adamo and Saariaho’s works and less agenda than Boulez. It was easily the most easily enjoyable work of the evening’s bill and in my opinion the only masterpiece. Its characteristic vigorous pizzicato in particular made for much pleasure.

Pitch manipulating and more overtones make Jarell’s Aus Beben educational and interesting in equal measure while offering enough music in between to make listening to the thing worth the curious audience member’s time. Since Magnus Lindberg’s Steamboat Bill, Jr. and Buster Keaton’s film that lend its name to this 1990 work “have similar durational properties” (not to be mistaken for “are the same length”!), it was shown alongside the famous storm scene from that movie. Buster Keaton’s comic genius could make any music listenable. His (literally, in one instance) neck-breaking stunts and jokes are much more timeless than Charlie Chaplin’s, and if the music was not as wild as the storm that drags Keaton on a tree through town, it came pretty close. It ended the concert with wild applause and marked a great success for the very curious ears in this town.