On February 17, in one
of Philadelphia’s smallest performance venues
(the Curtis Institute of Music’s Field Concert
Hall), two phenomenal instrumentalists gave
a recital that must rank as one of the biggest
musical events of the season, if magnitude
may be measured not by the size of the apparatus
involved but by the bold programming and superb
performance of inspired compositions. The
performers in question were Joel Krosnick,
cellist of the Juilliard String Quartet for
the last three decades, and his duo partner
of many years standing, the pianist Gilbert
Kalish.
Krosnick and Kalish
have earned a very special kind of glory by
championing some of the most gifted American
composers of the present and the recent past–not
just playing their works once or twice, but
determinedly going out on a limb for them,
year in and year out. Their program on this
occasion included three such works: the late
Ralph Shapey’s Kroslish Sonate (whose
very title celebrates their stature), Elliott
Carter’s 1948 Cello Sonata, and the Duo for
Cello and Piano composed just two years ago
by Richard Wernick. As an equally satisfying
curtain-raiser, they offered the Cello Sonata
written a few years before his death by the
Argentine-born master Alberto Ginastera.
All four works received
performances that vividly illustrated the
players’ interpretative gifts and technical
mastery. The Ginastera is rich in the Hispanic-sounding
rhythms and textures that reveal this composer
in a much more favorable light than his relatively
impersonal essays in the lingua franca
of cosmopolitan modernism, and Krosnick and
Kalish realized all its facets, especially
the extraordinary range of melodic and timbral
imagination of the slow movement, and the
scurrying mystery of the characteristic Presto
mormoroso scherzo. Of the three American
pieces, the Shapey is a three-movement creation
dating from 1986, when the 65-year-old composer
was showing signs of the mellowing that came
over both his personality and his music under
the benign influence of his second marriage
at that time to the singer Elsa Charlston
(who was in Philadelphia to hear this performance).
Certainly the marking of the central slow
movement–"Delicato"–suggests
an emotional world far removed from Shapey’s
more familiar mode of hectic intensity, and
the movement itself, probably the quietest
sustained stretch of music he ever wrote,
speaks the language of a soul profoundly tranquil
beneath all the storms that marked Shapey’s
external career.
I shall perhaps expose
myself as an unregenerate reactionary if I
say that the 56-year-old Cello Sonata is one
of the last great works Elliott Carter produced,
before he turned from the genuinely inspired
style of his early and middle periods to the
stultifyingly intellectual eye-music that
has too often characterized his later work.
This sonata is a piece full of true musical
inventiveness. Both Shapey and Carter profited
from the kind of insight and command that
typifies Krosnick/Kalish performances. But
for me–and, to judge from the long silence
that preceded the applause at its end, for
most of the audience–it was the Wernick Duo
that emerged as the strongest, or at least
the most powerfully individual, of the three
American works we heard. As in most of his
recent compositions–notably the Second Piano
Sonata written for (and recorded on the Bridge
label by) Lambert Orkis–Wernick here succeeds
in re-imagining the potential of the instruments
he is writing for, and forging for them what
seems at once a totally original and an absolutely
compelling musical language. I have by now
heard several performances of the Duo, both
by Krosnick and Kalish, and by Krosnick’s
pupil Scott Kluksdahl (who commissioned it)
and his duo partner, but I have never
been so completely overwhelmed by it as I
was this time around.
There will certainly
be physically bigger concerts in town this
season – Christoph Eschenbach and the Philadelphia
Orchestra, to give just one example, are in
the midst of rehearsing Mahler’s Third Symphony
as I write – but there are not likely to be
many that manifest such grandeur of thought
and execution on the part of composers and
performers alike.
Bernard Jacobson