Aspen 
                              Music Festival (4):
                              Mahler Sixth with Conlon, Dvorak Sixth with 
                              Stern, premiere by Mackey. 23.7.2007 (HS)
                               
                              
                              
                              Despite gray skies, the rain stayed away from 
                              Sunday afternoon's Aspen Festival Orchestra 
                              concert in the Benedict Music Tent. That didn't 
                              stop James Conlon from providing plenty of thunder 
                              with a rough-hewn, take-no-prisoners account of 
                              Mahler's Symphony No. 6.
                              
                              
                              Conlon looked like he was ready to go 12 rounds 
                              with ol' Gustav, pumping the orchestra to a high 
                              energy level from the opening bars and seldom 
                              letting up through the symphony's 80 minutes. What 
                              the performance may have lacked in finesse it more 
                              than made up for in sheer power. And make no 
                              mistake, there is plenty of room for finesse in 
                              this work, in which Mahler builds up tremendous 
                              musical structures before making them crash to 
                              earth with three massive hammer blows of fate. 
                              They're literal hammer blows, too. A percussionist 
                              whacks a gigantic box, setting off a slow-motion 
                              collapse in the orchestra, marked by fearsome 
                              minor chords in the brass.
                              
                              
                              By this point, about an hour into the music, the 
                              orchestra was chugging along well. But it was a 
                              bumpy road getting there. Ragged playing robbed 
                              the first movement of some of its shape. Conlon 
                              placed the Andante second in this performance 
                              (it's usually done third, after the sarcastic 
                              Scherzo), which seemed to give the musicians a 
                              chance regroup in the slow moving lines. The 
                              Scherzo had plenty of bite, and once the snowball 
                              started rolling down the slope in the finale, 
                              there was no backing off.
                              
                              
                              Conlon opened the concert with a set of songs by 
                              Alma Mahler, whose career as a composer and 
                              musician Gustav cut short. They're well crafted 
                              and listenable, especially when sung so 
                              sympathetically by mezzo soprano Kristine Jepson.
                              
                              
                              At Friday's Aspen Chamber Symphony concert in the 
                              tent, two evocations of the jazz theme for this 
                              year's festival occupied the first half. They 
                              couldn't have been more different. Milhaud's "La 
                              création du monde" dates from 1923, when serious 
                              composers first tried to use jazz. Stephen 
                              Hartke's 2001 clarinet concerto "Landscapes with 
                              Blues" brings us into the 21st century. It says 
                              something that Dvorak's Symphony No. 6 in D major 
                              (1880, for the record) overshadowed them both, 
                              despite am energetic if unsubtle performance 
                              conducted by Michael Stern.
                              
                              
                              Milhaud's ballet music, scored for a small dance 
                              band-like ensemble that uses a saxophone instead 
                              of a viola, sounds quaint today, like a pale 
                              imitation of 1920s jazz. Maybe the small group 
                              just got lost in the big tent. The work has a 
                              certain power heard up close. Hartke's concerto, 
                              which gave clarinetist Joaquin Valdepeñas a 
                              serious workout, was long on atmospherics and 
                              short on melody. In the long slow movement, titled 
                              "Delta Nights," crickets chirp,  gauzy chords waft 
                              by, and the soloist plays snatches of melody. For 
                              a piece supposedly grounded in the blues, its 
                              communication seemed unexpectedly indirect.
                              
                              
                              Saturday's recital in Harris Hall by the Brentano 
                              Quartet included a world premiere, Steve Mackey's 
                              "Groundswell," for viola solo and a nine-piece 
                              ensemble of string quartet, piano and winds. In 
                              this episodic work the viola, played by Hsin-Yung 
                              Huang, chatters away while the ensemble evokes 
                              scenes of climbing a mountain. The 22-minute 
                              travelogue is not exactly Berlioz's "Harold in 
                              Italy," where a viola leads a whole orchestra, nor 
                              does it have the grandeur of Strauss' "An Alpine 
                              Symphony," which also describes a mountain walk. 
                              But the central scene, "Peak Experience," has a 
                              certain spaciousness and beauty that's worth 
                              getting to, just as climbing a real mountain does.
                              
                              
                              The Brentano, which brilliantly matches its sound 
                              and style to specific composers, did so perfectly 
                              with a deft performance of Mozart's String Quartet 
                              in B-flat to open the concert. The second half was 
                              given over to a vivid, thoughtful reading of the 
                              Beethoven String Quartet in E-flat major, one of 
                              the sublime late quartets.
                              
                              
                              Friday also saw the first of the 9 p.m. "Aspen 
                              Late" concerts in Harris Hall, this one featuring 
                              a The Pablo Ziegler Trio for New Tango. Pianist 
                              and composer Ziegler, who played with Astor 
                              Piazzola's own band for 10 years, delivered the 
                              real thing with the help of a sensational 
                              youthful-looking bandoneón player, Héctor del 
                              Curto, and a jack-of-all-trades guitarist, Claudio 
                              Ragazzi (who had to carry the bass line and play 
                              chords and solos). They imbued an 80-minute set of 
                              music by Piazzola and Ziegler with plenty of 
                              energy and jazz-steeped music that enthralled a 
                              sparse but enthusiastic audience.
                              
                              
                              Pelting rain threatened to scuttle Thursday's 
                              "Evening With..." featuring husband and wife 
                              violinists Gil Shaham and Adele Anthony. It turned 
                              the tent into a loud drum partway through the 
                              Dvorak's "Bagatelles," but they took an early 
                              intermission and returned, with cellist Michael 
                              Mermagen and pianist Joseph Kalichstein, to pick 
                              up where the left off. It was still raining. 
                              Amplification was turned on, a mixed blessing. The 
                              sound system made the piano sound like a cimbalom, 
                              and the violins harsh, but at least they could be 
                              heard.
                              
                              
                              The rain softened enough to let the sounds of 
                              Brahms' Sextet No. 1 in B-flat major float more 
                              naturally. Violists Masao Kawasaki and Catharine 
                              Carroll joined cellists Mermagen and Chia-Ling 
                              Chien on a rewarding tour of this tasty music.
                              
                              
                              For sheer musical euphoria, it will be hard to top 
                              Thursday night's bass summit meeting between 
                              festival regular Edgar Meyer and jazz star 
                              Christian McBride. Stewart Oksenhorn's review 
                              Saturday went into greater detail, but to me their 
                              improvisations demonstrated a musical and personal 
                              connection that went beyond technique (which was 
                              phenomenal) and musical bravado. One would lay 
                              down a creative bass line, and the other would 
                              play the tune in what for the bass is the 
                              stratosphere. Then they would switch for solos, 
                              and the bass line passed seamlessly from one to 
                              the other, as if the same player were continuing. 
                              That's an ear, that's respect for the other, and 
                              it makes for thrilling music.
                              
                              
                              Harvey Steiman
                              
                              
                              
                              
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