Three Faces of Modernism at Davies This Week

Pianist Yefim Bronfman (from the event page for the concert being discussed)

Yesterday afternoon Joshua Gerson took the podium at Davies Symphony Hall to replace Michael Tilson Thomas in conducting the three San Francisco Symphony (SFS) subscription concerts for this week. The program was a bold one, organized around three selections, each of which serves as a representative of modernism for its time. The concerto soloist was pianist Yefim Bronfman, playing the oldest of those selections, Sergei Prokofiev’s Opus 16 (second) piano concerto in G minor.

Of Prokofiev’s five piano concertos, the third (Opus 26 in C major) tends to be the most popular for its accessibility. Opus 16, on the other hand, probably counts as the most outrageous. While it gets off to a lyrical Andantino opening, it does not take long for the score to fire off massive salvos of dissonance at the listener. The concerto went through two versions, the first in 1913 and the one now played in 1924; and Prokofiev served as soloist for both premiere performances. Presumably, his performance made it clear how many different kinds of dissonance he had packed into the score (as much for the full-blooded orchestral writing as for the solo part); and Prokofiev probably made a case for the rhetorical significance of each of those dissonances.

All this tends to be a bit much for many listeners. Nevertheless, Bronfman played his part with just the right balance of technical precision and rhetorical impact. Gerson, in turn, complemented that rhetoric excellently, allowing the low brass to relish every roar that Prokofiev had scored for them without blowing the house down (probably just metaphorically).

This is a concerto best taken in occasional doses; and, according to my records, my last dose was at Davies at the end of October in 2012, when Yuja Wang was soloist for a concert previewing the music that SFS would play during their tour of Asia that was about to begin. Both Bronfman and Wang clearly knew the full extent of demands of precision, and both were equally focused in their respective executions. Nevertheless, there was a seasoned quality to Bronfman’s execution, almost as if he was reflecting back on the stir that Prokofiev must have (intentionally) caused. Thus, while Wang clearly had a solid command over all the notes, Bronfman had just as much command and an absorbing sense of personality to boot. His encore selection was a minor-key single-movement sonata by Domenico Scarlatti, whose Kirkpatrick number is not immediately at my disposal; I do know, however, that it was was favorite encore selection of Vladimir Horowitz!

At the other chronological extreme, Gerson conducted the first San Francisco performance of Steve Reich’s “Music for Ensemble and Orchestra,” a score that had been co-commissioned by SFS. (Susanna Mälkki conducted the world premiere, performed by the Los Angeles Philharmonic on November 1, 2018.) So many Reich compositions have titles beginning with “Music for;” yet each of them has its own unique sonorities based not only on resources but also the structural and rhetorical stances that Reich decides to take.

On the other hand, one way or another, all of Reich’s work is based on establishing an underlying pulse and then elaborating upon it. The structure of “Music for Ensemble and Orchestra” takes an arch form to the management of that pulse, beginning with sixteenth notes coming from a piano, which then slow down to eighth notes, then quarter notes, and then the direction is reversed, returning through eighth and sixteenth notes, respectively. While this is a relatively straightforward “arch” approach (Reich has cited Béla Bartók as an admired predecessor), there is nothing straightforward about the textures that emerge through the juxtaposition of a chamber ensemble with an orchestra consisting of strings as trumpets. Furthermore, since the two groups are separated physically, the listener can enhance the impact of the sonorities with the visual experience of how the two groups engage with each other.

The program began with the version of “Fratres” that Arvo Pärt scored for strings and percussion. Percussion was deliberately minimal, and last night it consisted only of claves and bass drum played by a single percussionist (Raymond Froehlich, whose retirement was announced during last night’s event). “Fratres” is more of a chord progression than what might strictly be called a “composition.” It was first stated by the first and second violins, after which violas, cellos, and basses were added and then withdrawn in reverse order. The two cellists at the rearmost stand in the second played an open-fifth drone for the entire performance. The steadiness of their bowing was an impressive as Froehlich’s minimal percussion work.

(Fun fact of coincidence: I first became aware of Pärt during a lecture-demonstration that Reich gave at UCLA. This would have been about the time of the release of Pärt’s first ECM album. I shall always appreciate Reich’s advocacy of repertoires other than his own.)

The program concluded with the symphonic version of the “Polovtsian Dances” scene from Alexander Borodin’s four-act opera Prince Igor. (In the opera the orchestra is joined by a full chorus. I know, because I enjoyed singing the baritone line during a Pennsylvania All-State Chorus concert performance!) Gersen gave this music a rip-snorting account, which is exactly what it deserves. Borodin may not have been as adventurous as Prokofiev; but, for all we know, he was one of the sources to inspire Prokofiev when it came to unleashing mighty masses of sonorities.