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Another kind of champion
James Conlon conducts Philadelphia Orchestra
Steve Cohen
Among the two million Philadelphians packed into Broad Street for the Phillies’ victory parade last Friday, a few hardy souls managed to cheer the team and then move through the crush of densely packed crowds to the Kimmel Center in time for the Philadelphia Orchestra’s 2 p.m. concert. It was an exciting doubleheader.
Inside Verizon Hall, conductor James Conlon spoke to a sparse audience, thanking us for coming and acknowledging that we too wanted to celebrate the city’s World Championship. So he led an unscheduled performance of “Stars and Stripes Forever,” complete with handclapping participation.
After that, Conlon spoke of his reasons for programming works by Franz Schreker and Alexander Zemlinsky, and explained the music to come. His podium manner was colloquial, comprehensive and not at all intimidating.
All of this raises a question: Why has Conlon’s name not been raised as the Philadelphia Orchestra’s next music director? His programming and communicative skills are persuasive credentials.
Two who weren’t murdered
Conlon has long championed the forgotten generation of composers who were silenced by the Nazis, most of them because they were Jewish. These two, at least, were not murdered. Franz Schreker wrote an opera suggested by his friend Alexander Zemlinsky, and Prelude to a Drama is his early (1913) attempt at an overture for it. Then Zemlinsky went ahead and wrote his own opera in 1921 with the same basic subject– the feelings of a sensitive ugly man– based on an Oscar Wilde short story and called Der Zwerg (The Dwarf.)
As Conlon explained the background, Zemlinsky was heartbroken when his friend Alma Schindler rejected him and ran off with Gustav Mahler. Alma’s diary describes Zemlinsky as "a horrible dwarf." Feeling sorry for himself, Zemlinsky looked for a story that would parallel his own. In Der Zwerg a spoiled young Spanish princess is given a dwarf as a birthday gift and treats it as a cute toy. The dwarf is an intelligent and charming young man with positive self-esteem because he has never looked in a mirror. As the princess befriends him, he falls in love with her. When she is invited to dance with her friends, she dismisses the dwarf. He protests and she angrily tells him she cannot love an animal. He looks in a mirror, sees what she considers to be his ugliness and dies of a broken heart. The princess airily regrets that her new toy has broken.
Tenor Rodrick Dixon played the dwarf by bending his knees, tilting his upper body forward, folding his hands obsequiously and gazing at the princess with supplication. This was a spectacular feat of characterization for a concert presentation. Dixon’s singing was clear and rich, to boot. He possesses a talent that bears watching. Mary Dunleavy sang dramatically.
They both loved big orchestras
Zemlinsky’s orchestration is along the lines of his contemporary, Richard Strauss: full and colorful with even more romanticism. The Philadelphia Orchestra is a wonderful instrument for this music.
Schreker’s musical language, in his overture, is similar to Zemlinsky’s. Both composers use big orchestras, including some then-modern instruments. In addition to Straussian flavor, both men composed sections that are muted and dream-like. Schreker and Zemlinsky anticipated the lush, sweeping style that was to become popular as movie music, particularly by Zemlinsky’s pupil, Erich Korngold.
The concert’s second half offered a piece by a German composer from what seemed like a different world: Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony in a crisp, fast-paced rendition. The second movement, marked allegretto, was played as such, with forward-leaning energy rather than at a funereal pace as others sometimes lead it.
Inside Verizon Hall, conductor James Conlon spoke to a sparse audience, thanking us for coming and acknowledging that we too wanted to celebrate the city’s World Championship. So he led an unscheduled performance of “Stars and Stripes Forever,” complete with handclapping participation.
After that, Conlon spoke of his reasons for programming works by Franz Schreker and Alexander Zemlinsky, and explained the music to come. His podium manner was colloquial, comprehensive and not at all intimidating.
All of this raises a question: Why has Conlon’s name not been raised as the Philadelphia Orchestra’s next music director? His programming and communicative skills are persuasive credentials.
Two who weren’t murdered
Conlon has long championed the forgotten generation of composers who were silenced by the Nazis, most of them because they were Jewish. These two, at least, were not murdered. Franz Schreker wrote an opera suggested by his friend Alexander Zemlinsky, and Prelude to a Drama is his early (1913) attempt at an overture for it. Then Zemlinsky went ahead and wrote his own opera in 1921 with the same basic subject– the feelings of a sensitive ugly man– based on an Oscar Wilde short story and called Der Zwerg (The Dwarf.)
As Conlon explained the background, Zemlinsky was heartbroken when his friend Alma Schindler rejected him and ran off with Gustav Mahler. Alma’s diary describes Zemlinsky as "a horrible dwarf." Feeling sorry for himself, Zemlinsky looked for a story that would parallel his own. In Der Zwerg a spoiled young Spanish princess is given a dwarf as a birthday gift and treats it as a cute toy. The dwarf is an intelligent and charming young man with positive self-esteem because he has never looked in a mirror. As the princess befriends him, he falls in love with her. When she is invited to dance with her friends, she dismisses the dwarf. He protests and she angrily tells him she cannot love an animal. He looks in a mirror, sees what she considers to be his ugliness and dies of a broken heart. The princess airily regrets that her new toy has broken.
Tenor Rodrick Dixon played the dwarf by bending his knees, tilting his upper body forward, folding his hands obsequiously and gazing at the princess with supplication. This was a spectacular feat of characterization for a concert presentation. Dixon’s singing was clear and rich, to boot. He possesses a talent that bears watching. Mary Dunleavy sang dramatically.
They both loved big orchestras
Zemlinsky’s orchestration is along the lines of his contemporary, Richard Strauss: full and colorful with even more romanticism. The Philadelphia Orchestra is a wonderful instrument for this music.
Schreker’s musical language, in his overture, is similar to Zemlinsky’s. Both composers use big orchestras, including some then-modern instruments. In addition to Straussian flavor, both men composed sections that are muted and dream-like. Schreker and Zemlinsky anticipated the lush, sweeping style that was to become popular as movie music, particularly by Zemlinsky’s pupil, Erich Korngold.
The concert’s second half offered a piece by a German composer from what seemed like a different world: Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony in a crisp, fast-paced rendition. The second movement, marked allegretto, was played as such, with forward-leaning energy rather than at a funereal pace as others sometimes lead it.
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