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Rugged individuals
Orchestra 2001 plays Carter and Copland
Tom Purdom
At the latest Orchestra 2001 concert, conductor James Freeman prefaced Elliot Carter’s Asko Concerto with a detailed examination of its structure, illustrated by brief excerpts. I’ve always liked the strength I can feel in Carter’s work, and I’ve assumed that strength grew out of the composer’s control over his underlying framework. But I couldn’t have described Carter’s structures if my next meal depended on it.
As Freeman explained it, the introduction to the concerto is an example of Carter’s “layering.” The layers consist of five instrumental groups: flute and percussion; oboe, bassoon and viola; violin and clarinet; oboe and trumpet; and bass clarinet and trombone. Each group plays a different musical idea, and much of the time they’re all playing together.
The rest of the work rests on a structure with roots in the Baroque. The 18th Century concerto grosso created contrast and variety by pitting a small group of instruments against the whole orchestra. Carter’s updated version uses a series of distinctively different small groups, and there’s nothing conventional about his combinations. Carter plays with seven unique teamings: oboe, horn and viola; clarinet and double bass; trombone, cello and bass clarinet; trumpet and violin; piccolo, celesta and horn; trumpet and glockenspiel; and solo bassoon.
None of these machinations would mean a thing, of course, if the composer didn’t turn them into a satisfying musical experience. The first two sections seemed detached to my ear, perhaps because I was still concentrating on the structure. But then things picked up. Carter has a special affinity for the darker instruments, and the trombone, cello and bass clarinet produced a poetically somber third section. The sweet, intense violin in Section Four made a nice contrast with the trumpet; Section Five contained some neat trills for the piccolo; and Norman Spielberg’s bassoon solo brought the whole thing to a very Carterish close.
Carter’s conversation between piano and orchestra
The other Carter piece on the program had a more transparent structure. As the title indicates, Dialogues is a conversation between the piano (played by guest Emmanuel Arciuli) and different sections of the orchestra. If you hadn’t learned that from the program notes, or guessed it from the title, you might listen to Dialogues as if it was a standard piano concerto and conclude it was a bunch of unrelated fragments. If you concentrate on the participant who has the floor, it all falls into place, in the same way a conversation can only make sense if you listen to both sides, and know what each speaker is responding to.
Carter is celebrating his hundredth birthday this year, but both pieces were composed in the current decade— the Asko Concerto in 2000 and Dialogues in ’03.
A cheery diversion
Freeman opened the afternoon with another piece with deep roots. Walter Piston called his 1946 composition a Divertimento, and we should receive it in the same way we enjoy divertimentos by Mozart and the Baroque composers. In fact it’s a highly successful diversion, with a cheery, slightly metallic opening for winds, touching viola solos and interesting, constantly shifting combinations of winds and strings. It should be played more often.
The last item on the program had a structure everyone can grasp with a single glance at the title. We all know Copland’s Appalachian Spring is an ode to barn-raising, country-wedding rural America, even if we aren’t familiar with the exact events depicted by each section.
As it has in the past, Orchestra 2001 presented Copland’s elegy in its original 13-piece incarnation. Copland wrote it in 1944 for a chamber ballet presented by Martha Graham at the Library of Congress.
When played by a modern symphonic orchestra, Appalachian Spring can sound sentimental and obvious. There’s something essentially false in the sound of a big, complex organization proclaiming, “It’s a Gift to be Simple.” In its small-scale version, Appalachian Spring acquires a grace and purity that complements its subject. Its quieter moments become a celebration of the fundamental mystery of ordinary daily life. It added a perfect coda to a concert that devoted half the program to one of our more rugged American individualists.
As Freeman explained it, the introduction to the concerto is an example of Carter’s “layering.” The layers consist of five instrumental groups: flute and percussion; oboe, bassoon and viola; violin and clarinet; oboe and trumpet; and bass clarinet and trombone. Each group plays a different musical idea, and much of the time they’re all playing together.
The rest of the work rests on a structure with roots in the Baroque. The 18th Century concerto grosso created contrast and variety by pitting a small group of instruments against the whole orchestra. Carter’s updated version uses a series of distinctively different small groups, and there’s nothing conventional about his combinations. Carter plays with seven unique teamings: oboe, horn and viola; clarinet and double bass; trombone, cello and bass clarinet; trumpet and violin; piccolo, celesta and horn; trumpet and glockenspiel; and solo bassoon.
None of these machinations would mean a thing, of course, if the composer didn’t turn them into a satisfying musical experience. The first two sections seemed detached to my ear, perhaps because I was still concentrating on the structure. But then things picked up. Carter has a special affinity for the darker instruments, and the trombone, cello and bass clarinet produced a poetically somber third section. The sweet, intense violin in Section Four made a nice contrast with the trumpet; Section Five contained some neat trills for the piccolo; and Norman Spielberg’s bassoon solo brought the whole thing to a very Carterish close.
Carter’s conversation between piano and orchestra
The other Carter piece on the program had a more transparent structure. As the title indicates, Dialogues is a conversation between the piano (played by guest Emmanuel Arciuli) and different sections of the orchestra. If you hadn’t learned that from the program notes, or guessed it from the title, you might listen to Dialogues as if it was a standard piano concerto and conclude it was a bunch of unrelated fragments. If you concentrate on the participant who has the floor, it all falls into place, in the same way a conversation can only make sense if you listen to both sides, and know what each speaker is responding to.
Carter is celebrating his hundredth birthday this year, but both pieces were composed in the current decade— the Asko Concerto in 2000 and Dialogues in ’03.
A cheery diversion
Freeman opened the afternoon with another piece with deep roots. Walter Piston called his 1946 composition a Divertimento, and we should receive it in the same way we enjoy divertimentos by Mozart and the Baroque composers. In fact it’s a highly successful diversion, with a cheery, slightly metallic opening for winds, touching viola solos and interesting, constantly shifting combinations of winds and strings. It should be played more often.
The last item on the program had a structure everyone can grasp with a single glance at the title. We all know Copland’s Appalachian Spring is an ode to barn-raising, country-wedding rural America, even if we aren’t familiar with the exact events depicted by each section.
As it has in the past, Orchestra 2001 presented Copland’s elegy in its original 13-piece incarnation. Copland wrote it in 1944 for a chamber ballet presented by Martha Graham at the Library of Congress.
When played by a modern symphonic orchestra, Appalachian Spring can sound sentimental and obvious. There’s something essentially false in the sound of a big, complex organization proclaiming, “It’s a Gift to be Simple.” In its small-scale version, Appalachian Spring acquires a grace and purity that complements its subject. Its quieter moments become a celebration of the fundamental mystery of ordinary daily life. It added a perfect coda to a concert that devoted half the program to one of our more rugged American individualists.
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