SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

New York Philharmonic, Opening Night Concert: Wynton Marsalis, R. Strauss and Hindemith: Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra, Wynton Marsalis (director and trumpet), Alan Gilbert (conductor), New York Philharmonic, Avery Fisher Hall, New York City, 22.9.2010 (BH)

 

Wynton Marsalis: Swing Symphony (Symphony No. 3) (2010; U.S. premiere)

R. Strauss: Don Juan, Tone Poem after Nikolaus Lenau, Op. 20 (1888)

Hindemith: Symphonic Metamorphosis of Themes of Carl Maria von Weber (1940-43)

As yet more evidence of conductor Alan Gilbert’s commitment to cracking open the stale formulas sometimes used to open orchestral seasons, this upbeat program with the New York Philharmonic (televised later that night on PBS’s Live from Lincoln Center) made a strong case, with an ebullient recent work by Wynton Marsalis, and after intermission, several warhorses given a fresh look. Gilbert is quickly establishing a precedent of unveiling new pieces to open the season, a trend that couldn’t be more welcome.

Marsalis’s Swing Symphony was jointly commissioned by the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra (which gave the world premiere last summer), the Los Angeles Philharmonic, and The Barbican in London. Judging from the audience reaction at the end, the debonair trumpet virtuoso has a hit on his hands. Here five of the work’s six sections were presented; the sixth was excised for time reasons, and with all due respect, I am wondering if the truncated version used here might be the better decision. (That said, at some point of course I want to hear the entire piece.) The length—around 45 minutes—was my main reservation, yet offset by the explosive, enormously entertaining contents.

Drawing from many varied sources of regional jazz, Marsalis has created a panoramic showcase for a very large ensemble: the Philharmonic was augmented by the superb musicians of the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra. Elements of ragtime, tango, conga, bebop, and African church music are interwoven with what could be fragments of Gershwin, Ives, and even some Mantovani touches in the string writing. With the percussion crew stretching along the back wall, the net effect was like listening to the world’s largest big band, and the contrasts Marsalis set up between the various instrumental forces were often breathtaking. From the opening brawl in the percussion, to the swaggering slow drag spiked with trombone, “St. Louis to New Orleans” lived up to its name, adding some elegant use of whistles near the end. The second movement, “All-American Pep,” is filled with irregular meters and passages that could have been penned by bandleader Tommy Dorsey, and one could be forgiven for wanting to applaud during the solos—all of which ends abruptly with a whip crack.

The third movement, “Midwestern Moods,” is a bit of a breather with its slightly more subdued air, which is quickly dispelled by the frenetic tempo of “Manhattan to L.A.,” which feels like a train speeding through the middle of the country, offering passengers glimpses of late-night clubs, glowing in the distance. It also contains a terrific solo for Marsalis himself, as well as some eloquent, creamy saxophone writing, accented by bongos and the guiro. The finale, “The Low Down Up On High,” offers hand claps, muted trumpets, and plinking strings, all set against a Boléro-like spine that even seems to vacuum up some Varèse, before finally evaporating in a very human, very vocal—and very quiet—sigh. At the end, during cheers, applause and a huge standing ovation, Gilbert slowly went back to Marsalis, buried in the middle of the musicians, and embraced him as they made their way to the front of the stage. I’m sure many in the audience wanted to do the same.

To complete the program, Gilbert offered a Don Juan filled with hairpin turns and energy, the orchestra supplying luxurious swaths of sound when needed. And Richard Strauss would have surely swooned, listening to Liang Wang’s dreamy oboe lines. The most recent performance of Hindemith’s Symphonic Metamorphosis of Themes of Carl Maria von Weber was in 1995—hard to believe, since this mid-1940s masterpiece used to be a repertory staple. (For those studious about titles: the orchestra’s program annotator, James M. Keller, notes that “metamorphosis” was preferred by the composer over the plural “metamorphoses,” which appears more often in concert programs.)

Gilbert’s vision here was a fleet, athletic, and wiry one—far from being the heavy, clotted mess that makes some abhor Hindemith's music here (and for others, Hindemith's music in general). The “Scherzo,” powerfully shaped, showed off the delectable timbres of the ensemble’s chimes, gongs and blocks, all clicking away in merry synchronicity. And the finale—that dark, sunny, relentless beast of a march—showed why the composer’s contrapuntal skills were among the best, and it’s a pity that his extroverted details are sometimes obscured by the equivalent of orchestral mush. But that’s one of many things that make Gilbert’s arrival so auspicious; he often knows how to get to the heart of a piece—not the version you think you know.

Bruce Hodges