Elliott Carter: Scrivo in Vento (1991);
Oboe Quartet (2001)
Joshua Cody: Wind (2003, world premiere)
Christian Wolff: For E.C. (2003, world
premiere)
Elliott Sharp: 95 for E.C. from E# (2003,
world premiere)
Hilda Paredes: Seed of Time (2003, world
premiere)
Elliott Carter: Fragment II (1999); Fifth
String Quartet (1995)
Pierre Boulez: Petite Dérive – En
Ècho (1998, world premiere)
Michael Finnissy: Diamond Suburbia (2003,
world premiere)
Frederic Rzewski: Ninety-Six (2003, world
premiere)
Augusta Read Thomas: Bubble: Rainbow (Spirit
Level) (2003, world premiere)
Elliott Carter: Tempo e Tempi (1999)
On my
last visit to the Orensanz Center, the air
above the audience was filled with huge pieces
of abstract sculpture – metallic arcs, twisted
ribbons of small white lights – and on the
previous visit, the space was an eerie mix
of blue and purple. Last night, as if to psychologically
compensate for the painfully frigid outside
temperature, the entire back wall behind the
stage had an inviting orange glow, as if the
wall were a giant ceramic heater with a wrought-iron
grate. Every time I’ve been here, the physical
space has been slightly different, due to
the visual talent of its eponymous artist,
Mr. Orensanz. That penchant for change could
apply equally to Mr. Carter, who seems to
change with every new work and writes with
the energy of someone half his age.
As a
delicious appetizer, the program began with
a sunny performance of Scrivo in Vento
by Cécile Daroux on flute, followed
by Carter’s Oboe Quartet, a recent
work, written almost astonishingly when he
was a mere 91 or so. I had the good fortune
to be positioned behind the superb Robert
Ingliss so I could follow his oboe part, which
he played with mesmerizing confidence alongside
three members of the Arditti Quartet. (Thanks
to Sospeso’s co-directors, Kirk Noreen and
Joshua Cody, for bringing the quartet to New
York, where they had not performed in five
years.)
A highlight
was Carter’s Fifth Quartet (again,
imagine writing such a piece when one is around
86 years old) featuring the incomparably intuitive
Arditti players at their best. On one level,
the piece is a highly exposed dialogue between
the four instruments, each of which "tries
out" phrases before they are combined
later. The compelling result made one imagine
friends engaged in discourse – now hesitant,
now aggressive – that so often takes unexpected
paths.
Eight
brief homages to Mr. Carter – seven written
for this occasion – were all successful. One
of his most immediately engaging works, Cody’s
Wind began with a complex initial section
that gradually subsided into soft, rhythmic
tapping on the instruments, and an exuberant
valentine by Elliott Sharp used extreme intervals
and exuberant cross-rhythms that ultimately
coalesced into something resembling a major
chord. The Boulez miniature is a sprightly
gem, skipping along with small gestures repeated
by instruments echoing others. If there is
any justice it will be performed more often,
since its almost naïve charm would surely
woo many Boulez skeptics. Rzewski’s piece
had Lucy Shelton spelling out "C-a-r-t-e-r,"
although who can say if its gimmick will wear
thin after the birthday celebration. Throughout
the evening, the excellent Sospeso musicians
meshed beautifully with the Ardittis, in performances
that consistently persuaded and astonished.
The
evening closed with Carter’s luminous song
cycle, Tempo e Tempi, with brilliant
texts by Montale, Quasimodo, and Ungaretti
apparently inspiring the composer to equal
radiance. (And a talent for language: his
translations from the original Italian were
included in Cody’s comprehensive program notes.)
These probing, soaring songs were gracefully
sung by Shelton, who seems to have an enormous
reservoir of elegance and passion for contemporary
scores. It would be difficult to choose a
favorite, but I was transfixed by the shortest
text, I hear a dove from other floods that
seemed to mysteriously emerge from the luscious
opening of Marianne Glythfeldt’s clarinet.
Composer
Rand Steiger, one of the most astute conductors
around, led some of the short tributes as
well as the final work with crisp authority,
not to mention a bit of humor. (It was a party,
after all.) It is amazing that so many people
– composers, musicians and listeners – continue
to find such inspiration in Mr. Carter’s seemingly
inexhaustible floods of creativity. The composer,
now using a walking stick but otherwise looking
remarkably hale and fresh, stood grinning
amid the cheers and applause, then offered
a few words of thanks that were as elegantly
understated as much of his music. Let’s all
plan now for the big Carter centennial, when
I assume we’ll hear whatever he’s written
at age 98 or so.
Bruce
Hodges
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