The Ohio-based composer Jack Gallagher may be a Professor of Music —
specifically, at The College of Wooster — but he doesn't write like
one, and I mean this as a compliment. He doesn't strain at the sort
of spurious "originality" favoured in the academy; as if it were
the composer's solemn obligation to reinvent the wheel with each new
score. His harmonic language is tonal but dissonant, its manner exploratory
and searching manner rather than aggressive. He deploys solo instruments
expressively in their natural tessituras, eschewing unusual sounds and
"difficult" ranges, and generally weaves airy orchestral textures.
Rhythmic impulses are irregular, but the short, repetitive motifs are easy
to follow. The results are unmistakably late-to-post-twentieth-century in
idiom, in the manner of the post-WWII American symphonists: accessible, but
by no means undemanding.
The generally aspiring outlook of Gallagher's music is reflected in
the subtitle,
Ascendant, of his second symphony. The first movement
is active and full of character. Even the tender oboe theme at 3:09 is
accompanied by a subtle play of dissonances. Rhythmic gestures, whirling
figures and repeated-note patterns, variously reminiscent of Bartók and
Stravinsky, provide a bounding rhythmic impetus, while staccato woodwinds
evoke a contrasting, lighter spirit. The recapitulation runs aground,
however, by inserting a coda of sorts after each of the themes. It's
a novel idea, but tedious when you've been primed for a quick
wind-up.
At the start, the scherzo hardly sounds
Playful as marked, but
soon the mood lightens, with metrically irregular textures. In the searching
slow movement, florid reed curlicues which start out as embellishments
gradually take on the principal role; an ominous intrusion of brass and
tympani at 8:40 briefly brings turbulence. The finale begins in a questing
frame of mind, with pulsing woodwind triplets injecting an anxious
undercurrent. The agitated main
allegro has a
moto
perpetuo drive not unlike Shostakovich.
Quiet Reflections begins with, yes, quiet chime strokes and a
tentative horn-call. Strings, "growing out of" the end of a horn
phrase, gradually fill out the sound. The music grows cautiously
affirmative, adding whirling woodwind flourishes, until an expansive bassoon
solo moves into the flowing second theme. It's lovely.
This music pleased me. So did JoAnn Falletta's conducting, which
I'd somehow managed to miss until now. The maestra shapes the music
with a (literal) sure hand. Her tempo for the scherzo, for example, allows
horn and
tutti punctuations to register firmly and musically and
keeps a firm grip on the structures. The reed triplets at 5:00 of the slow
movement don't immediately settle, though the ones in the finale are
fine. The violins suffer some dry tone and imprecise tuning in the highest
reaches. Ensemble is a bit sketchy through the finale's bustling main
section. The London Symphony is responsive, and, overall, handles these
unfamiliar scores with assurance and conviction. In the scherzo, the solo
winds are particularly deft in the undulating scansions, while the midrange
strings provide a posh warmth.
Even if you think you're allergic to "new music", give
this a listen.
Stephen Francis Vasta
Stephen Francis Vasta is a New York-based conductor, coach, and
journalist.
