SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

Pierre Boulez and the Chicago Symphony at Carnegie Hall: Mathieu Dufour (flute), Michelle DeYoung (mezzo-soprano), Falk Struckmann (bass-baritone), Pierre-Laurent Aimard (piano), Tamara Stefanovich (piano), Pierre Boulez (conductor), Chicago Symphony Orchestra, Carnegie Hall, New York City, 30-31.01.2010 (BH)

Ravel: Le Tombeau de Couperin (1914-1917)
Marc-André Dalbavie: Flute Concerto (2006)
Bartók: Bluebeard’s Castle, Op. 11 (1911; rev. 1912, 1918)

Boulez: Livre pour cordes (1948-1949; rev. 1968, 1988)
Bartók: Concerto for Two Pianos, Percussion, and Orchestra (1940)
Stravinsky: The Firebird (complete) (1910-1911)


Coming before a sparkling concerto by Marc-André Dalbavie and Bartók’s hour of intense psychodrama, one might be tempted to overlook the perfectly shaped, perfectly voiced Ravel that preceded them. In the first of two nights at Carnegie Hall, Pierre Boulez and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra began with Ravel’s Le Tombeau de Couperin, playfully moulded with lightness and glee that gave no hint of what would come later.

In Dalbavie’s engaging Flute Concerto, he does acknowledge his spectral roots, but the compositional style is eclectic, incorporating occasional minimalist elements, making exuberant, watercolor billboards that seem to float, crumple, and fly. Using a modest-sized orchestra, with the Chicago principal Mathieu Dufour as elegant soloist, Dalbavie sees the flute not as a typical counterpart to the ensemble, but rather a soloist who merges—and emerges—amid a waterfall of splinters and mysterious unisons. In one particularly well-considered moment, the xylophone (Cynthia Yeh, spectacular on both nights) doubles the flute’s virtuosic melodic line; watching Yeh and Dufour groove together was heaven. As a side comment on the work’s success, last week I found myself in the company of a woman who had heard this same concert in Chicago. She is not a music aficionado (prefers theatre) but was eager to point out that she liked the Dalbavie the best—so much for the smidgen of conventional wisdom that contemporary music appeals only to musicians and composers.

Boulez has recorded Bartók’s Bluebeard’s Castle twice: first with Tatiana Troyanos and Siegmund Nimsgern (1976) and then with Jessye Norman and László Polgár (1993). Tonight’s worthy successors were Michelle De Young and Falk Struckmann, making heroic turns with the composer’s moody study of two characters interlocking in curiosity, desire, expectation, and possessiveness. Spectacular moments in the orchestral palette left little doubt that Chicago has one of the great ensembles of our time, such as the frightening moments before Judith finally decides to open the seventh and final door. And kudos to the brass contingent for the subtle, sibilant breathing as each door opens. De Young, projecting strongly (and yes, she nailed the climactic opening of the fifth door), emphasized the wonder and curiosity that would doom her. Struckmann, also in fine voice, craftily underplayed Bluebeard, more as a quiet killer waiting for exactly the right moment to pounce.

For the second concert, Boulez led his own Livre pour cordes, or what some might call “Boulez for non-Boulezians.” Even those for whom monuments like Le marteau sans maître remain impenetrable would find pleasure in the composer’s washes of string sound. It is 11 minutes of Boulez at his most alluring, and the Chicago strings demonstrated (as they did often over the two nights) that they remain peerless.

Bartók spawned his Concerto for Two Pianos, Percussion and Orchestra from his Sonata for Two Pianos and Percussion, adding orchestral flesh to create one of his most mysterious, yet playful abstractions. With pianists Tamara Stefanovich and Pierre-Laurent Aimard thrust to the front of the stage, and percussionists Yeh and Vadim Karpinos on either side, Boulez emphasized the drama, paying particular attention to the stealthier quiet moments.

To end this memorable weekend, Boulez turned to The Firebird, Stravinsky’s complete ballet version, and I’m sure Carnegie’s creamy walls were left fairly scorched. What made this such a triumph was the conductor’s assiduous attention to detail (using a score), peeling back expectations to reveal raw timbres that felt like metal grinding against granite, sparking malevolence at every turn. Except for one blip on the graph—the great Dale Clevenger on horn was having an abysmal night—the fact that the orchestra could produce such sounds was a testament to the extraordinary chemistry between these musicians and a conducting icon.

Next month Pierre Boulez turns 85, but from his alert presence here, one would think him closer to 60. Whether standing squarely on the podium with his characteristic compact posture, or nodding crisply to the audience before striding offstage, he showed no signs of fatigue at any point over the weekend. Whatever he’s taking needs to be bottled up and sold to as many of us as possible.

Bruce Hodges