Lean, Vehement, and Clear
The Orchestre Symphonique de Montréal came to the Kennedy Center last night to show off its new music director, Rafael Payare. And show off they did, in a lean and vehement reading of Mahler’s iconic Symphony No. 5. Payare, in his early 40’s, came up through Venezuela’s El Sistema program (which also produced Gustavo Dudamel). Bearing a slight resemblance to Sideshow Bob from “The Simpsons,” he is a technically gifted conductor; a wide, expressive stick vocabulary, with the hands often serving different functions rather than just mirroring each other. The dozens of tempo-changes in the gargantuan work, either sudden or gradual, were brought off with apparent ease, the musicians hand-in-glove with him each time.
There were certainly some questionable musical choices, but the OSM could be on the cusp of some heady times. Payare’s predecessor was an empty suit, and the band’s international profile had faded anyway after the acclaimed Dutoit years. But from the evidence of this concert (presented by Washington Performing Arts), OSM is still in the top echelon of orchestras; the strings play with virtuosity and intense commitment all the way to the back of each section, the woodwinds have characterful, individual colors, and the brass blend together as if a great organ. If Payare can continue to solidify and develop, some really significant things could happen.
Not everything was perfect. There were some problems in the horns last night, with bobbled notes in the first and third movements, but these flaws stuck out for their rarity. The OSM timpanist needed taming as well; he might not drown out his colleagues in their hall in Montreal, but he did it frequently here. With that unfortunate caveat, I must salute Payare and the orchestra for solving or avoiding so many of the balance problems that plague the National Symphony Orchestra here. The OSM has the double-basses on the left side, meaning their f-holes are now pointing towards rather than away from the audience. With the cellos on that side as well, next to the 1st violins, the sonic foundation is rich and impermeable. (The NSO used to sit like this, but its current music director re-arranged things.) Moreover, the visitors asked that all risers be removed, and the entire group sits on one level. This is indeed unorthodox (few other orchestras do this), and limits the view from the floor of the hall. But the logic behind it is unassailable; why would you put the loudest instruments up on risers behind the poor, beleaguered strings? ‘Cuz they’re not loud enough? The fact is that between the seating arrangement and the sensitivity of the musicians, I heard the strings in this brass-heavy piece far better than I ever do in NSO concerts.
So on to the performance itself. It always irritates me when someone feels he/she has to “conduct” the unaccompanied trumpet solo that opens the piece. It is or should be completely unnecessary, so I give Payare props for keeping still and trusting the OSM trumpeter. On the other hand, the crucial fanfare rhythm felt a bit slack (the sixteenth-note never quite late enough); the music lacked menace. Payare’s tread was “flowing” rather than hesitant, a younger man’s arms-length view of death. But the turbulent middle section was splendidly-played, everyone giving 110%, as was the second movement.
Payare handled the tricky Scherzo with authority and sophisticated beat-patterns (sometimes trusting his players to follow him when giving only one-in-a-bar at a slow tempo), though there was a bizarre tempo modification in the coda (marked Tempo I, but played much slower). The famous Adagietto, though, felt almost breezy. It’s true that tempos for this iconic movement have been trending slower and slower since it was first played, and there’s nothing wrong with trying to recapture Mahler’s original pulse. But what Payare missed was the yearning and anguish – the string glissandos sounded cute rather than aching with desire.
The tricky opening of the finale was marred by intonation problems between horn and woodwinds. But the movement as a whole had a glorious helter-skelter feeling, though not at the cost of precision. Overall, high marks for everyone.
On the first half, pianist Yefim Bronfman gave us a dazzling Bartok Concerto No. 2 (his earlier recording of the work won him a Grammy). His pounding rapid chords gave the OSM percussionists a run for their money, and the Kennedy Center’s piano, which I railed against some time back, appears to have been restored to good health. It withstood Bronfman’s bear-like assaults but sang out tenderly when called for. Payare got the orchestra to produce magical sounds in the slow movement (cribbed from Charles Ives’s Central Park In The Dark).
The opener, Precipice, by Dorothy Chang, was a nondescript series of unmelodic sonic experiments with lots of percussion. The program notes might’ve told me what any of this was for or about, but if music requires reading program notes to be appreciated, it’s poor music indeed. The audience certainly felt the same way, judging from the applause.
But speaking of audiences, I don’t get D.C.’s sometimes. The OSM is a prestige group by any measure; but last night’s attendance was modest, ¾ full at most. Not to take anything away from the NSO, which is a strong orchestra and improves each year, but it’s striking that it can nearly fill the Concert Hall for three performances week after week, whereas a still finer group like the OSM had to scrounge. Strange.
Photo by Antoine Saito.
