Philadelphia Orchestra's Michael Tilson Thomas Conducts

Based on a set of poems by Carl Sandburg, Tilson Thomas began composing Four Preludes in 1976. The influence of that bicentennial year can be heard in the music, which the composer scored for soprano soloist, chamber orchestra, and a bar band that includes an electric keyboard and a full rhythm section.

Gershwin-style blues

Tilson Thomas’s writing for the chamber orchestra calls to mind 20th-century American classical music. The opening bass-clarinet blues sounds straight out of Gershwin, a primal wail that nonetheless produces a driving rhythm.

Elsewhere, the specters of Ives and Bernstein seem to be at play with Stravinsky and Shostakovich, as Tilson Thomas vacillates between jazz-inflected harmonies and jittery Modernism. His extensive use of piano, tenor and alto saxophones, and percussion further suggest the influence of jazz, bebop, and midcentury swing.

This motley collection of sounds captures the spirit of Sandburg’s text, which explores how the past often wrestles with the future in the construction of American identity. In the first poem, the unnamed speaker informs the audience, “my grandmother, Yesterday, is gone / What of it? Let the dead be dead.” Given the relatively short history of the United States, there has always been an impetus to define ourselves by what lies ahead rather than through the lens of history. But Tilson Thomas’s unsettling, propulsive choices remind us how facile and problematic that view can be.

Later, the speaker asserts that “we are the greatest city / the greatest nation / nothing like us ever was.” That may be true, but Tilson Thomas’s polyrhythmic setting of the phrase suggests a patriotism tinged with doubt. It reminded me that he began working on this piece in the aftermath of the Vietnam War — a time of uncertain leadership and nationwide soul searching. How little things change.

Mixed results

Canadian soprano Measha Brueggergosman took on soloist duties, backed by Mikaela Bennett and Kara Dugan. Although the use of amplification by both singers and band rendered it impossible to judge the total resonance of Brueggergosman’s sound, she boasts an impressive instrument, particularly in her mezzo-like lower range.

Brueggergosman showed an affinity for the jazz elements of the score — particularly in the fourth poem, which required extensive scatting. Beyond bell-clear enunciation, she displayed a real feeling for Sandburg’s text, right down to the haunting final line: “Nothing like us ever was.”

Tilson Thomas’s writing for the bar band occasionally produced more questions than answers. Although the assembled group played well, the music itself often sounded undistinguished, as if dropped in from any number of popular songs from the era. It left me to wonder how the piece might have worked without them.

After intermission, Tilson Thomas led a respectable reading of the Tchaikovsky. The composer premiered this much-performed piece nine days before his death. With its unusual structure and haunting, almost ghostlike final chord, it has confounded scholars and listeners for more than a century.

If the conductor brought little new insight to the familiar work, he compensated by providing a hefty dose of verve and brio. The third movement even earned a smattering of spontaneous applause.

I would have liked more darkness overall, but I responded to Tilson Thomas’s bright strings in the waltz-inspired second movement and his quick tempos throughout. (At roughly 40 minutes, this was easily the fastest version I’ve ever heard). And perhaps I was still on a high from Four Preludes, which is undoubtedly one of the major works to enter the repertory in the past decade.

Tilson Thomas might not always get it right, but he’s certainly an asset to the roster of any orchestra that employs him.