Starting the new year off with a bang: Grubinger, Eschenbach, and LA Phil dazzle with Tan Dun’s new percussion concerto

Martin Grubinger (photo by Felix Broede)

A new composition for a new year.  Seems rather poetic, doesn’t it?  Often such gestures work better in concept than in practice, but thanks to Martin Grubinger‘s virtuoso performance of The Tears of Nature, Tan Dun’s new percussion concerto receiving its U.S. Premiere last Friday night care of the Los Angeles Philharmonic, this one worked wonderfully.

Mr. Tan creates an eclectic yet accessible soundscape that ranges from melodic to clangorous and everything in between.  It begins simply enough:   Mr. Grubinger led the orchestral percussionists in ensemble, clicking together semi-tuned pairs of stones; muted harp played in the background.  As the soloist walked from the front of the stage to the back where a battery of seven timpani were set up, the score began to expand and grow increasingly complex.  The soloist’s pitch-bending timpani cadenza served as the high-point of the movement.

The second movement had a similar developmental arc:  a quiet, dreamy opening section, with atmospherics care of the orchestral percussionists bowing Tibetan singing bowls; later, an aggressive ending featured Mr. Grubinger with some amazingly fast fortississimo (yes, “fff”) four-mallet work on marimba.  The energetically cheery finale featured variations on a recurring 8-note melodic theme that made its way through the orchestra, not to mention being featured in another cadenza played by Mr. Grubinger, this time working on every part of the large array of tuned and non-tuned instruments set up at the front of the stage.

Read more of this post

Comparing guest conductors’ rehearsal styles: how to endear yourself to an orchestra — or not

To cajole or to castigate? Rafael Frühbeck de Burgos and Christoph von Dohnányi (photo credits below)

“The art of conducting lies, in my opinion, in the power of suggestion that a conductor exerts – on the audience as well as on the orchestra,” the conductor Otto Klemperer once observed. “A conductor must know how to hold attention. He must be able to lead the players with his eyes and the movements of his hands or baton. By this power of suggestion the level of a mediocre orchestra can be raised considerably. Vice versa, the playing art of a great orchestra can be lowered by a mediocre conductor.”  (Timothy Mangan, “The art of the electric baton,” The Orange County Register,  October 30, 2005)

As much as the Los Angeles Philharmonic is known for entrusting their podium to up and coming (often unproven) younger conductors, they also have a long history of balancing out that youth with old-school conductors double their age equipped with impeccable credentials:  Erich Leinsdorf led some memorable direct-to-disc recordings with the orchestra, including a Prokofiev Romeo and Juliette featuring an amazing high C played in a single take by former Principal Trumpet Robert DiVall; Kurt Sanderling began guest conducting the LA Phil in 1984, took them on a European tour after Andre Previn resigned as Music Director, and appeared as a beloved guest well into the tenure of Esa-Pekka Salonen; Pierre Boulez made frequent visits to Los Angeles through the turn of the new millenium.

Since Walt Disney Concert Hall opened in 2003, five guest conductors seem to have served most often in the role of regularly returning éminence grise (in alphabetical order):   Herbert Blomstedt, Christoph von Dohnányi, Charles Dutoit, Christoph Eschenbach, Rafael Frühbeck de Burgos.  Most musicians and classical music fans would regard all of them as being premiere conductors with the experience and resume worthy of respect in front of any orchestra.  Of course, what works for one conductor might not work with another, and similarly, a conductor that is beloved in one city could be unwelcome in another.  Resumes and reputations can only take you so far when standing on stage in front of 70+ world-class musicians, and like any relationship, the chemistry between a given conductor and a given orchestra — or lack thereof — is often hard to predict until the first downbeat is given in a rehearsal.  And rehearsal is where the sparks or the barbs will begin to fly.  I’ve seen it myself during years in various student and pick-up ensembles; at this high up the professional ladder, where the musician holding the baton and each of the ones sitting in chairs in front of him (or increasingly, her) have extensive skill, training, and ego to spare, it certainly becomes much more pointed.

Read more of this post

%d bloggers like this: