By Chris Lane
By Jef With One F
By Chris Lane
By Olivia Flores Alvarez
By Angelica Leicht
By Jef Rouner
By Jef With One F
By Jef With One F
The concert included a medley of well-known pieces by Bernstein, Gershwin, Aaron Copland, and Duke Ellington. Most of the instrumentals were as familiar as they were famous, and by now, some of the pieces have probably been too highly commercialized by the same entertainment venues that taught us to recognize them: Hollywood movies, the Broadway stage, and maybe a few smoky nightclubs now and then.
Bernstein's "Overture to Candide" from the comic operetta was a perfect start -- Voltaire's 18th-century satire scored to music -- about a naive young man who wanders around the world, convinced that things always happen for a reason. Smug in his assurance that God makes the good and the bad, he soon learns that man has pretty much botched up the planet on his own. The overture contains some playful string melodies, reminding us of the of the hero's disillusionment. Always a popular choice with orchestras, the overture contains hidden technical complexities. This symphony's performance was superb.
Although the New York Philharmonic first performed Gershwin's "An American in Paris" on December 13, 1928, at Carnegie Hall, it's hard to imagine the upbeat opening without seeing Gene Kelly and Leslie Caron fall in love and dance their way through the French streets. The symphony began its version with the familiar fast staccato of violins evoking the streets of Paris, Gershwin's inspiration for this composition. Those violins are soon mocked by horns and then by tubas, and the orchestra is enhanced by sounds of taxi horns, all scattered in pitch. (The latter were Gershwin's personal touch; he reportedly brought four taxi horns home from Paris to inject the piece with the feel of real streets.)
This first section was very fine until it settled into the slower blues progression. I'm accustomed to the James Levine/Chicago Symphony CD; by comparison, this live version's slower, middle movements seemed to drag, until the opening melody was reprised.
"An American in Paris" was a satisfying finale, but not nearly as satisfying as Gershwin's "Piano Concerto in F Major," which came right before the intermission. Oddly, this dissonant, less-familiar piece hearkens back to the rich, sad strains of "Rhapsody in Blue." According to Lockington, in 1924, after "Rhapsody" became a smash hit, the New York Philharmonic Society commissioned Gershwin to compose a concerto. After he signed the contract, he went in search of a theory book. He wasn't sure what a concerto was.
"Concerto in F," composed of three differently paced, jazz-infused movements, featured 22-year-old Orli Shaham on the piano. (Some audience members had likely heard her before on A Prairie Home Companion.) During the opening Allegro, Shaham warmed to the lively, discordant jazz rhythms. In fact, she got so warmed up, she looked hot. Her bodily gyrations got loose and steamy, and if I squinted my eyes so as to shut out everyone else but her, she looked like a classic lounge act, undulating her back while her fingers beautifully manipulated the composer's trills. She even rocked to the orchestra between piano solos.
At the end of the first movement, Shaham and Lockington graciously acknowledged the audience's wild clapping despite the disruption in the flow between movements. I was as guilty as the rest, practically shouting "bravo" before I realized Lockington still had his arms in the air, poised to start the second movement. Oh, well. Houston and Woodlands audiences don't get out much for classical concerts, so we ought to be forgiven for applause between movements.
The second movement of "Concerto in F" -- Adagio-Andante con moto -- was my favorite. It included a number of solo melodies -- by Shaham, first violinist Uri Pianka, and the exquisitely plangent horn section so reminiscent of the horns in some of the slower, melancholy strains of "Rhapsody." Lockington barely paused at this movement's end, slipping quickly, before the gladclappers could shatter the second of silence, into the fast-paced concluding Allegro agitato. Shaham, Lockington, and the orchestra were solidly in sync by this time, giving a splendidly robust buildup to the breathtaking finale.
During the third movement, Shaham was energized -- and it was here that she stole the show, smashing those upper-octave, quintessentially Gershwin chords, and cranking up that familiar repetitive discord, nerve-rackingly distinct against the shouting of the full orchestra. At the same time, these chords seemed drowned by the orchestra.
When this piece was over and ovations finished, everyone, including the orchestra, was sufficiently revved up for Ellington's big-band experimentation from the ballet The River. Originally composed in 1970 for the Alvin Ailey Dance Company, the two featured selections innovatively combine jazz and symphonic music. The symphony's performance of "Lake" was as placid as "Giggling Rapids" was soulful. Midway through the latter, Lockington seemed to rock a little more than usual on his conductor's platform, taking us just for a minute away from that huge outdoor amphitheater into a livelier, more intimate, toe-tapping realm where we could imagine leaning elbows on white tablecloths and sipping a dry, double martini.