Conductor James Gaffigan (photograph by David Künzler and Melchior Bürgi, courtesy of the San Francisco Symphony)
From 2006 to 2009 James Gaffigan was Associate Conductor of the San Francisco Symphony (SFS), a position created for him by Music Director Michael Tilson Thomas. Now he is Chief Conductor of the Lucerne Symphony Orchestra and Principal Guest Conductor of the Netherlands Radio Philharmonic. This coming June he will be in the orchestra pit of the War Memorial Opera House, serving as conductor for Francesca Zambello’s staging of Georges Bizet’s Carmen. Yesterday afternoon he returned to Davies Symphony Hall as guest conductor to present this week’s SFS subscription concerts.
The program turned out to be an interesting variation on the familiar format. One might say that it was an overture-concerto-symphony2 concert, since the second half of the program was devoted to two short symphonies, rather than one long one. The concerto soloist was Hélène Grimaud in a performance of Ludwig van Beethoven’s Opus 58 (fourth) piano concerto in G major. However, the best way to account for the performance will be in the chronological order of the selections, since the high points of the afternoon took place at the beginning and ending of that chronology.
The earliest work on the program was Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s K. 297 (“Paris”) symphony in D major. This work was composed in 1778 when Mozart was 22 years old. He was in Paris on a job-hunting trip. The music was first performed on June 12, 1778 at the home of Count Karl Heinrich Joseph von Sickingen, the ambassador of the Electorate of the Palatinate. It was then given its first public performance six days later at the Concert Spirituel. The symphony was well received, but the trip did not lead to Mozart finding employment in Paris.
K. 297 is only in three movements with a modest Andantino separating two vigorous Allegro movements. Gaffigan’s account did not stint on the vigor, but he was also sensitive to the intimate rhetoric of the Andantino, making sure that its quiet grace was not overshadowed by the outer movements. James Lee Wyatt III played period timpani with wooden sticks that crisply punctuated the rapid-fire string passages. It also appeared that the horns for the performance had no valves, but the rest of the ensemble involved contemporary instruments. One got the impression that Gaffigan was going for sonorities suitable for the Davies space, rather than in putting all of his eggs in one historically-informed basket.
As a result, K. 297 was a refreshing breath air following the intermission after the rather stale treatment of Beethoven that preceded it. Wyatt was again playing the period instruments but with softer sticks, resulting in sounds that were more muted, rather than crisp. Indeed, nothing was crisp about this performance, whether if involve Grimaud rushing through rapid-fire passages with the dampers raised, blending all of the notes in those passages into a single inchoate blob of mush. Similarly, Gaffigan showed few signs of bringing clarity to the orchestral side of the balance. Indeed, the clearest sonorities from the ensemble came from Associate Principal Cello Peter Wyrick providing the solo “continuo” passages for the final movement. (That was the second program this month in which Wyrick’s supporting solo work outshone the piano concerto soloist.)
Somewhat more satisfying was the Wagner section that preceded the concerto. The “overture” for the program was the orchestral extract from the first scene of the final act of Parsifal. This is neither a prelude nor an interlude in the opera itself. Rather, it provides a melodic context while Gurnemanz explains the significance of Good Friday to Parsifal (a week late on our calendar). This section was subsequently separated from the vocal part and published separately under the title “Karfreitagszauber” (Good Friday spell).
Gaffigan clearly knows his Wagner. The balance of the wide diversity of instrumental voices could not have been more on the mark. Overall, his rhetoric captured the quiet solemnity the music was supposed to establish in its original role as “background.” Compared to other accounts of this instrumental selection I have encountered, I felt as if the overall pace was a bit too sluggish; but I am not inclined to fault Gaffigan on this matter. After all, Gurnemanz did not rush through his explanation; and Gaffigan may well have sought to capture the original spiritual mood of the opera itself.
This opening selection was strikingly contrasted with the second symphony on the program, Samuel Barber’s Opus 9 (first). This is a four-movement symphony in which all four movements are conjoined into a single uninterrupted flow. Barber was 25 when he composed the piece. (Compare this with the 22-year-old Mozart in Paris.) The composition opens with the entire brass section at its brassiest; and, even when the brass are out of the picture, the music churns away with vigorous energy, catching its breath only during the relatively brief Andante tranquillo section.
Since so much of my music education took place at a time when it was almost unthinkable to worship at any temple other than than of Anton Webern, just about every educator I encountered viewed Barber as a bête noir. Indeed, mention of his name rarely arose in any setting other than that of vocal students. It was only with the rise of composers such as John Adams, willing to remind us that having fun with music was quite all right, that the dust was blown off of many Barber scores.
“Fun” was definitely the operative concept in Gaffigan’s reading of this symphony yesterday afternoon. Nevertheless, he never lost touch with the symphonic form around which all of that fun has been organized. Furthermore, he always knew just how to keep Barber’s myriad resources in balance. As a result the music romped its way at an energetic pace that was guaranteed to bring a smile to just about any sensitive face in the hall. Gaffigan definitely knows how to inspire an audience with good feelings before they leave the hall.
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