A ‘new’ American woman
composer who has avoided becoming hemmed
in stylistically is Jennifer Higdon.
Her principal teacher and mentor was
Ned Rorem and I suspect that stroke
of good fortune is a major factor in
her being rather more at ease with herself
as a composer. She came to wider prominence
with the orchestral blue cathedral,
but has since capped that work with
her Concerto for Orchestra, composed
for the Philadelphia Orchestra to celebrate
their centennial in 2000. Like Bartók’s
famous example, Higdon’s is cast in
an arch-like five-movement form with
a central slow movement (the expressive
heart) framed by two intermezzo-like
scherzi – or scherzo-like intermezzi,
one for strings, the other for percussion
– in turn framed by two much weightier
Allegri. The first of these (there
are no movement-level tempo markings,
just numeric designations) opens with
a dynamic, chiming figure which unleashes
a brilliant orchestral momentum setting
the festive tone for the work yet which
also – unlike many similarly celebratory
scores – possesses a musical strength
that raises it above the level of the
ordinary. The remaining four movements
live up to the promise of the opening
and it is no exaggeration to suggest
that this can bear comparison with the
finest orchestral concerti, by Bartók,
Lutosławski, McCabe and Petrassi.
Unlike other women
composers from North America – such
as Beth Anderson, Margaret Brouwer or
Gloria Coates (all subjects of recent
releases on the New World label) — Higdon’s
style is clearly American in sound,
though for all the reminiscences of,
say, Copland there are as many of more
international figures, not least Tippett
in some of the string writing. Combined
with some quite brilliant wind and brass
writing, the idiom is not unlike that
of the British composer – and expert
concerto-writer John McCabe (whose own
marvellous 1982 Orchestral Concerto
has been issued by ClassicO, CLASSCD384).
A more American sound, more redolent
of William Schuman and Walter Piston
in orchestral texture, is apparent in
City Scape (2002), a three-movement
sequence of tone poems descriptive of
Atlanta, Georgia, where Higdon spent
some of her childhood. The opening movement,
Skyline, evokes the thrusting
tower blocks of downtown with remarkable
gusto but it is in the long central
span, river sings a song to trees,
that Higdon’s powers of orchestral painting
attain Respighian heights. As one who
has looked south towards downtown across
the Chattahoochee Valley from the vantage
point of the commercial centre of Wildwood,
I can vouch for the fact that Atlanta
is green. Higdon’s river may be the
Peachtree Creek (Peachtree Street
is the focus of the finale) but it is
no less apt for other quarters of the
Georgian capital’s metropolitan area.
Each movement of City Scape,
commissioned by the Atlanta Symphony,
could be self-sufficient, although the
suite as a whole works remarkably well.
Robert Spano directs thoroughly convincing
accounts of both works and Telarc’s
sound is excellent. So why does Higdon’s
music seem so much more invigorating
and appealing than, say, Beth Anderson’s
pastel modality or Margaret Brouwer’s
misfiring aesthetic? Kyle Gann, the
apologist for the former, would no doubt
suggest this is due to my twenty-first-century
attitude valuing complexity for its
own sake. I disagree: I believe Higdon’s
style is as straightforward as Anderson’s
but Higdon’s artistic horizons are broader
and her harmonic language much more
developed and subtle. Higdon can also
clearly think in long spans as well
as for the moment whereas Anderson’s
longer movements (still quite modest)
do not convince. A Higdon symphony would
be a thrilling proposition; one from
Anderson would necessitate a considerable
reworking of her compositional methods.
Guy Rickards
see also review
by Rob Barnett
Atlanta Symphony Orchestra/Robert Spano