Salonen: Wing on
Wing (2003-04)
Shostakovich: Concerto in C minor for
Piano, Trumpet, and Strings, Op. 35 (1933)
Stravinsky: The Rite of Spring (1910-13,
rev. 1947)
In the
final concerts of the inaugural season at
Walt Disney Concert Hall, Esa-Pekka Salonen
gave flight to a new work, Wing on Wing,
written to take advantage of the space, and
I found it quite effective. In addition to
its reference to Frank Gehry’s building and
its bird-like contours, the title is a nautical
term, describing the two sails of a boat when
they are opened to produce the maximum amount
of area to catch the wind. Certainly Salonen
is thinking expansively here – not surprising
at all given the enormous inspiration of Gehry’s
masterpiece – and deploys a large orchestra
augmented by two soprano soloists and electronics,
using huge washes of sound. Perhaps because
I had recently heard Sibelius’ Seventh
Symphony, Salonen’s language seemed masterfully
similar, with slowly shifting textures showcasing
each section in the orchestra. The group seemed
to pull together with an almost alarming passion,
throwing out the composer’s buzzing floods
with complete assurance.
The
two excellent soloists, Jamie Chamberlin and
Hila Plitmann, began from chairs on either
side of the conductor, and then reappeared
on each side of the middle of the hall, and
then finally on the upper balconies behind
the stage. Often both seemed to sing in unison,
creating interesting spatial effects as a
sort of stereo soprano choir.
My only
hesitation was in the use of speech fragments
– in this case, words and phrases taped from
Gehry himself, such as "space,"
"light," and other terms uttered
during discussions of the design and philosophy
of the building. The dilemma is that speech
does not always occupy the same brain functions
as music, and can sound a bit preachy, and
I confess that those portions – and only those
portions – occasionally sounded a bit trite.
We all know Gehry is a brilliant architect,
but I wasn’t convinced that incorporating
his actual voice in this manner was the most
effective tribute to his talent. I wonder
how the work will fare, both in succeeding
years after these initial performances, and
further, whether it will be performed in other
spaces. But overall I enjoyed Salonen’s homage
to the genius that has given him this acoustic
marvel of a stage, and the orchestra, sounding
beautifully alert and clear on a gorgeous
West Coast Friday morning, certainly plunged
into the work with gusto.
The
Shostakovich, written when he was twenty-seven
years old, shows the young composer as "musical
polyglot in overdrive" (to quote my favorite
phrase from John Mangum’s excellent notes).
The trumpet, perhaps strangely, is given a
prominent but decidedly secondary role, almost
as just another color against the strings.
Yefim Bronfman (who has recorded the piece
with Salonen and this same orchestra) seemed
to be having a high old time, especially relishing
the broad humor in the final movement, when
the pianist is asked to become a sort of superhuman
barroom denizen and play in a sort of refined
honky-tonk idiom. But none of this was at
the expense of much of the melancholy poetry
that slinks its way into the piece, and Bronfman
can be as introspective as they come. Associate
principal James Wilt sounded terrific in the
sunny, slightly insouciant trumpet part that
seems to insert itself like some small mammal
squeaking for attention.
But
for most in the audience, including me, the
highlight was Salonen’s biting, over-the-top
Rite of Spring, now virtually a signature
work for him, and rightfully so. From the
lonely opening solo, flowing from David Breidenthal’s
gorgeous bassoon, hundreds of details in the
dense score seemed to leap up into the middle
of the room like unharnessed electricity.
Among dozens of striking moments, I single
out one only because it demonstrated the skill
of the players as well as the hall’s unusual
sensitivity to dynamics. Shortly into the
second section, The Sacrifice, two
heavily muted trumpets engage in a duet that
must be ppp, pppp or even ppppp
in the score, and here Mr. Wilt and principal
Donald Green seemed to be almost competing
with each other to see who could play the
softer. But I could cite memorable work by
virtually every instrument in the ensemble.
The
hues Salonen created just astonished, turning
the building into a seething cauldron of sound.
The orchestra played with magnificent exactitude,
transmitting Stravinsky’s primeval energy
with an urgency you just don’t hear in this
piece all that often. It was a pleasure just
feeling the sound thrashing around in towering
canyons, then dwindle down to intimate trickles,
over and over and over. Some complain that
Salonen tends to micro-manage the score and
"conduct it to death." My take is,
first, that the piece is more difficult than
we might recall after decades of becoming
accustomed to it, and second, that if Salonen
perhaps overemphasizes the abrupt contrasts,
pushing them as far as the blocky structure
will allow, the score can withstand this treatment.
If it isn’t the only way to do the piece,
it is certainly hair-raisingly effective,
and as with almost everything I’ve heard in
Disney Hall, just sounded sensational in the
space.
This
concert was just so much fun. After
seven visits to this nascent sonic temple,
and experiencing the music from all sides
(except the one behind the orchestra), I can
only shake my head in wonder that this is
now one of the most spectacular venues in
the world. What is slightly amusing is that,
given the stunning architecture the sound
could easily get by being merely "good,"
and on the other hand, given the superb acoustics,
the building could be much more prosaic. If
you are anywhere near the Los Angeles area
and able to hear the Philharmonic, or appearances
by visitors (which are bound to increase),
give your ears and eyes a little vacation
and stop in to witness it for yourself. History
is being made in Los Angeles as we speak.
Bruce Hodges
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