Something familiar, something peculiar, something for everyone: “Casual Friday” with the LA Phil

On paper, Friday night’s Los Angeles Philharmonic concert seemed straightforward enough:  a program filled with loads of well-known hum-along tunes, a beloved old-school conductor (Rafael Frühbeck de Burgos) on the podium, and a popular soloist (Lynn Harrell) joining in on the fun.  In the concert hall, everything was generally as one would expect:  the music sounded beautiful and all the musicians involved could rightly take credit.  The audience gave a de rigueur standing ovation at the end and everyone, including me, walked away with a smile.

Pretty much writes itself, right?  Except that just below the surface was all the stuff really worth mentioning.  Nothing Earth-shattering, mind you.  Just a moment here, an observational tidbit there, and a very telling post-concert comment from Mr. Harrell that helped make the concert more interesting to me than a just a collection of well-played chestnuts.

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Shamelessly enjoying “Carmina Burana” at the Hollywood Bowl

Classical music, like life in general, abounds in so-called guilty pleasures.  You know, the kind of stuff that you may not admit to friends that you like, but in the privacy of your own iPod earbuds, you relish with abandon.  Warsaw Concerto is one for me.  Carmina Burana is another one.  Not a whole lot of people know Warsaw Concerto, but everyone knows Carmina Burana, whether they actually realize that they know it or not.  It is this relative ubiquity that makes “serious” musical fans scoff Scoff SCOFF when Orff’s cantata shows up on programs.

“Spend your time listening to something deeper, more profound.  Like the Mahler Eighth Symphony,” an uber-intellectual friend once told me.

As it turns out, I like to think of Carmina Burana as the Mahler Eighth’s evil twin:  both split their libretto between Latin and Deutsche, both start with a booming chord in the orchestra followed by a grand entrance by the chorus, and both benefit from being done big.  Of course, where the Mahler Eighth is all radiance and redemption, Carmina Burana is decadence and debauchery.  Mahler has the Virgin Mary, Orff has the drunken “Abbot of Cockaigne.”

There is a time and place for both.

Last Thursday was the time, and the stage beneath the oversized white arches of the Hollywood Bowl was the place for the churning, chugging sounds of Orff’s paen to the whims of fortune and the joys of gluttony, drink, and lust.  The performance benefitted from some standout soloists, smooth and energetic ensemble work by the Los Angeles Philharmonic, the Los Angeles Master Chorale, and Los Angeles Children’s Chorus, all managed by the capable hands of Rafael Frühbeck de Burgos.

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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.

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