Conductor Gustavo Dudamel (photograph by Danny Clinch, courtesy of SFS)
Last night conductor Gustavo Dudamel returned to the podium of the San Francisco Symphony (SFS) for the last November subscription series of concerts. His program brought an engaging twist on the overture-concerto-symphony structure with the concerto having been composed for an instrument not usually encountered in that genre. This instrument, the cuatro, is associated with music indigenous to Venezuela; and both soloist Jorge Glem and composer Gonzalo Grau (not to mention Dudamel himself) are Venezuelan. The concerto itself consisted of a single uninterrupted movement entitled “Odisea;” and the music could be described as an Odyssean journey through the different forms and styles of Venezuelan traditional music.
Grau completed this composition earlier this year, after which Dudamel presented its world premiere with the Los Angeles Philharmonic. Last night saw its first SFS performance. Those that came early for the pre-concert discussion probably benefitted from the background material Grau provided about the concerto. They also received “first exposure” to a performance by Glem playing his cuatro, a four-string plucked instrument in the guitar family. (Those following the New Century Chamber Orchestra would probably have been oriented to the sound of the cuatro after having listened to the charango played by Gabriel Navia in Paul Bateman’s arrangement of Ariel Ramírez’ Missa Criolla.)
What was most evident about the cuatro was its soft-spoken quality. One had to wonder whether such a subtle instrument would hold its own against a full symphony orchestra, which included a generous percussion section with many Latin American instruments. Grau thus deserves no end of credits for his skill not only in a wide variety of instruments but also in a keen sense of how all of those sonorities could be properly balanced. In other words, Grau knew perfectly well how to lead the attentive listener through his “Odyssean journey,” making sure that even the subtlest of details would be taken into account.
Furthermore, Grau knew how to acclimate the attentive listener to the subtleties of Glem’s cuatro. Thus, then Glem returned to the Davies stage to take an encore, all the attentive listeners in the audience were ready for him. Most likely, however, they were not prepared for the content of that encore. Glem decided that, since he was playing in a concert hall, it would be only fair to improvise around the sort of music one might encounter there. Thus, he launched into the fugue subject from Johann Sebastian Bach’s BWV 565 toccata and fugue in D minor and then took a segue into one of the themes from Gustav Mahler’s second (“Resurrection”) symphony in C minor. This was followed with a nod to Georges Bizet’s Carmen, which probably triggered another segue, this time into Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana cantata. Then (since the Christmas season is upon us) he threw in the Russian dancers from Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker ballet, careening back into the “An die Freude” (ode to joy) music from Ludwig van Beethoven’s Opus 125 (ninth) symphony. (Yes, there was more; but I could only keep up with so much of it!)
“Odisea” was preceded by “Kauyumari,” composed by Gabriela Ortiz, also for the Los Angeles Philharmonic and Dudamel. Ortiz’ music has been influenced by traditional sources from Mexico and Central America. This particular work was structured around a Huichol melody. While the theme was certainly engaging, the number of repetitions began to feel like excess, almost as if Ortiz had decided to inject Ravel’s “Bolero” with steroids. Nevertheless, the instrumental colors (again including percussion) established an engaging context for what would follow in “Odisea,” making the overture and concerto portions of the program a satisfying “matched set.”
Sadly, the symphony did not fare as well. Dudamel devoted the entire second half of the program to Johannes Brahms’ Opus 73 (second) symphony in D major. This is music that has established a firm place in the “familiar classics” repertoire. Unfortunately, Dudamel had nothing to contribute that would present this frequently-encountered music as anything more than the same-old-same-old. Indeed, there seemed to be many times during which the conductor was following the orchestra, which, itself, was basically following Concertmaster Alexander Barantschik and all of the other section leaders.
There is an often-told story about the early career of composer Erich Wolfgang Korngold. His father, Julius, made his reputation as a music critic; and he was never shy about exercising his skills on his son. The story I heard was that, after listening to a performance of his son’s music, his only reply was, “Compose, don’t bathe!” More than once I found that, while observing Dudamel during the performance of Opus 73, I came away with the impression that he was bathing, rather than conducting!
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