Currently viewing the tag: "Powell Hall"

Once again, David Robertson and the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra are downright avant-garde, performing a “Water Concerto for Water Percussion and Orchestra” by contemporary composer Tan Dun Friday evening on the eve of Halloween. I couldn’t tell you if this was great music or a great performance because I’d never heard any such thing before. But I can tell you I was fascinated by the idea, the new sounds, and the new instruments.

Picture several pedestal style sink bowls (elegant ones of clear glass, not the ones in my kitchen or bathroom) filled with water surrounded by a variety of devices to make sounds with them. The ones I remember are a hollow tube that reminded me of glassware we used to use in chemistry lab in high school and college, and gourds placed in the water played like a miniature drum set. I can’t describe what all of this sounded like except to say that it all seemed to me as fluid as the water I was watching being played.

The piece began with very quiet sounds emanating from the water percussion (Colin Currie the percussion soloist) and then the audience was definitely paying full attention after the entrance of the horns. The piece ended with a shower, the percussionist holding a strainer high above his head, letting the water drain back into the bowl. In between, well, get the recording, if there is one, or ever will be!

But here’s another unique thing: This soloist (a percussionist) moved around the stage among his various instruments and was even accompanied by his own “section” (two water percussionists at either end of the stage. At various points, he had to quickly grab his next instrument for making sound within a second after turning a page of his music. Then, he moved dance like to the Xylophone and played that for a while. Usually, a soloist moves around, but only around a fixed axis.

It was a bit humorous to watch the audience give a standing ovation as I am pretty sure none of them had any way to benchmark this performance either. But I guess that’s become the thing to do now – standing ovations no matter what. It must be like grade inflation in the schools. I suppose I like the newest of musical sounds but am still a fuddy dud in other ways. Maybe they were standing for the bold selections of our conductor.

It may be a few decades before Water concertos becomes part of the standard repertoire, but this listener, who has been going to symphony concerts for more than four decades, has nothing but admiration, respect, and praise for this conductor and the new sounds he is bringing to this somewhat weary Midwestern city. If I can’t bring myself to stand up at Powell Hall, I’ll certainly make a stand here.

Last night at the Saint Louis Symphony Orchestra’s (SLSO) opening performance of its 130th season, I was struck by the juxtaposition of a contemporary work, Osvaldo Golijov’s “Azul” and Mahler’s 5th Symphony. What struck me was how Mahler’s work was diminished. Imagine that. Diminishing a composer known for being over the top, which only takes away the word “over.” Still on top, if not over, in other words.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love other works of Mahler, particularly the early symphonies one and two (Resurrection). Barring the Adagietto beginning of the last movement (or Part III), the Mahler 5th had little contrast and form compared to “Azul.” Every movement (or section) of the 5th sounded like a finale. Being a writer type, I concluded that Mahler really either needed a good editor to sculpt this work or to file down his ego. It just came off as somewhat muddled, and this I am sure had nothing to do with the Orchestra under David Robertson. Musical fragments struggled to join up into something larger. With the exception, I have to point out, of that Adagietto, in which the aching harp anchors the soul-searching violas for the intro. What an exquisite section.

This “Azul,” though, reminded me of a science experiment in which all you could exclaim at the end is “Eureka!” An experiment gone right. I could best think of the piece as a triple concerto since it had a cello, hyper-accordion (yes, hyper!), and percussion (enough instruments to seat two percussionists). The piece begins with a mournful cello solo but with a promise of something better, more joyous, and, guess what, promise fulfilled! Later (and I don’t remember which movement it was), the cellist sawed into these magnificent arpeggios, the percussion just went freaking crazy, and unconditional joy filled the auditorium. Meanwhile, the hyper-accordion did what I guess it does best, acting really hyper but the sounds emanating are really cool. Apparently, this instrument allows effects like a synthesizer.

But this is life, after all, and joy wants to continue but of course it cannot so a bittersweet section of longing follows. And, yes, there is a trick ending similar to so many of the symphonies of the Romantic Period (when you never quite know when the brash ending chord will sound) but I won’t give it away.

At times, especially early on in the work, the music reminded of a gelatinous mass crawling amorphously throughout the volume of Powell Hall. I mean that in the best of ways. Such an unusual shape to the sound with plenty of interesting things going on at the edges of the mass. It reminded me of Michael Gordon’s music at times (see earlier post).

Thank someone that Conductor David Robertson has a freewheeling imagination regarding contemporary composers and more obscure works of the masters. If you weren’t there, you missed your chance to see the hands of the principal cellist of the SLSO crawl up and down the neck of his instrument like crabs one moment, then as if he was giving a massage the next. Truly a chance of a lifetime to experience the premier of this work in our fair city.

Looking for something?

Use the form below to search the site:


Still not finding what you're looking for? Drop a comment on a post or contact us so we can take care of it!

Visit our friends!

A few highly recommended friends...

Set your Twitter account name in your settings to use the TwitterBar Section.