REVEALING DEVASTATION and EXALTED REVELATION

"I hope that the piece (On the Transmigration of Souls) will summon human experience that goes beyond this particular event (9/11)."

~ John Adams

"Music is a higher revelation than all wisdom and philosophy."

~ Ludwig van Beethoven

Tucson Symphony Orchestra – 6 April 2018

A very sweet finale to the remarkable Inaugural Season of Music Director, José Luis Gomez, was set up by the programming of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, the 'Ode to Joy'. And, in fact, the exhilarating success of this concert went beyond, with few exceptions, the expectations of even the most ardent local fanatics. Two perspectives dominated my experience here. One, the outstanding, if not definitive, rendition of Adams' 'On the Transmigration of Souls', was literally shocking. The orchestral sonorites, many intentionally harsh or seething, were yet always generously rendered and sensuous. The sheer mastery, by the Tucson Symphonic Chorus and the Arizona Boys Chorus, was breathtaking. The conductor's way with the score and text were humble and reverent; with the orchestra, clear and expressive. Two, the tautly drawn, sharply sculpted, and robustly executed Ninth of Beethoven, was bold and powerful. To hear this very familiar music performed so aggressively, was at first a bit of a jolt. Yet, as things progressed, what became clear is that these chosen means well match the message: a revolution of the spirit, directly expressed, and emphatically declaimed. If the mission of music is communication, then this performance provided an opportunity for revelation.

To begin with, I must admit that my eyes opened widely upon realizing Beethoven's 9th would be preceded by John Adams' post-9/11 work, 'On the Transmigration of Souls'. Do we really need to dive into a deep abyss in order squeeze extra catharsis out of the 'Ode to Joy'? I would say we do not. And while this heavyweight pairing mirrors the 2002, New York Philharmonic program where 'Transmigration' had its World Premier, this seemed emotionally way over-the-top. Why even go there?

Director Gomez argues that Adams' 'Transmigration' and Beethoven's 'Ode to Joy' are connected by individuals' profound confrontations with ill fate, describing Adams' music as "Amazing art. Very moving and evocative". I had listened several times, and honestly, had not cracked it. 'Transmigration' sounded strange and atmospheric, yet any touching or healing qualities it may hold had thus far escaped me. I sensed more a meandering mess, than a crafted "memory space"; a term the composer uses to describe his intention.

In performance, however, it was quite something else. Quiet at first, an audio track began providing ambient city sounds, some names of victims were read, and short phrases from homemade signs and memorials placed on the street, like, "missing" and, "He called me every day". Slices and segments of apparently random instrumental lines and piled up orchestral sounds, calm choral phrases, and street noises fluctuated, alternately building and easing their intensity and viscosity. Declarations from the chorus and the orchestra became increasingly strident, "She sang like and Angel!" Finally, two slightly more direct and emotionally poignant statements were made (purposely omitted here), and repeated one time, while thick layers of tumultuous orchestral chaos churned underneath. At once, and magnified in retrospect, the pious, devastated plight of a single, spirit-broken survivor, facing the incomprehensibly sinister rubble that is Ground Zero, and within which their loved one's remains were strewn, was starkly revealed. In that moment, the aching core of one mother or wife's ghastly, ghostly, personal reality was laid bare.

Eventually, all of the music, words, and other sounds began to weaken and die away. Almost imperceptibly did pianissimo fade into silence. The giant ensemble held motionless for an extended period of time; one long, slow minute. Maestro Gomez did not turn around. He motioned the musicians to their feet. With baton at his waist, he turned, beaming slightly, and without smiling, walked away. A low flow of applause spilled from the sea of seated, half-stunned concertgoers. I had been thinking and listening, picturing and imagining, analyzing and assessing; then found myself wincing, whimpering, and bawling helplessly. I tried, a couple of times, to look up, which only wrung more tears, head in hands. What came up from inside me, no doubt, was about me, not 9/11; yet I believe gives testament to the power of Adams' music and this performance. I was not close to, and did not know anyone well, who had lost loved ones or associates in the Twin Towers' collapse. Yet now I was there, and for me, that was it. 

_______________________

José Luis reminded us that Beethoven was radical; cutting edge, implacably creative, improvisatory in his methods, and often in-your-face direct. And he marveled, as musicians have for almost 200 years, that the forceful chords of the first movement Allegro's main theme, is also fully contrapuntal. That is to say, successive harmonies are constructed from melodies and basslines and middle voices, moving step-by-step, in full contrary motion to each other. It does not seem possible, yet there it is! And the result is an insistent, willful theme, hammered out in powerful, full-weight strides. Unbelievable! The motivic development of themes and pivot points, the omnipresent signature of Beethoven's genius, is as broad, deep, and profound as anything he penned. And, what is the symbolism of the sudden appearance of a dirge -- a death march -- to begin the coda of the titanic struggle which is this opening movement? Is it, as Mahler overtly yet symbolically states, "I must die, that I might live!"?

On this night, the Scherzo also lived up to that billing as radical and direct; always driving, rhythmically precise, and piercingly expressed. In one of the evening's few flaws, while still in line with the spirit of the music, the timpani's prominent 3-note rhythmic motif was quite over-balanced -- a nagging distraction from the communicative flow of the music. Thankfully, the many quieter echos of that 3-note rhythm were sonically perfect, an indication that the timpani's unusually forward and Stage Left placement -- an accommodation for the chorus -- may have been partly responsible for the big drum's overbearance. The drama, however, of this highly emphatic statement, was fresh and exciting from the outset, through to its surprize little ending. Maestro Gomez' upbeat approach, continued in the Adagio, happily facilitated very fluid iterations of the primary theme, while exaggerating the contrast with the detached articulation of the horn calls of the counter theme. This 'Adagio' ("walk") was brisk, and fully in motion. 

The 'Ode to Joy' choral finale, fashioned here at a furious pace, became a glorious, dizzying, Bacchanalian revolution. Beethoven's journey, which unfolds in a succession of almost every conceivable musical form and human emotion, was simply riveting in this rendition. Listeners, and even players, who might be used to a more stately approach, were doused, by Beethoven, with cold water, only to awaken on a higher plane, indeed. The orchestra, kept on its toes throughout, played very well. The vocal soloists, who generally prefer more languid tempi, sang quite wonderfully. Under the masterful direction of Bruce Chamberlain, the Tucson Symphonic Chorus, a great pride and joy of this city, was spot on, every sweeping and hard-charging step of Maestro Gomez' way -- just fantastic. Privately, my thoughts and prayers went out to the psyches of the chorus singers on this long day of emotional extremes; a post-performance sentiment echoed by Director Chamberlain himself. The pressure was on, and the chorus came through with a consummate performance. On this night of deep crevasses traversed, and ascent of steep peaks, crushing bleakness had given way to roaring exaltation.

After Beethoven's 9th Symphony was over, no one wanted to go home. We just kept standing and clapping and shouting our excitement, approval, and joy. The conductor, the soloists, the choirmaster, the orchestra, and the chorus, all kept taking bows and accepting ovations and curtain calls. The applauds never really subsided. Eventually, the stars remained off Stage Right, instead of once again parading before their cheering admirers. Then the house lights came up, leaving the highly euphoric and certainly ennobled crowd, to somehow readapt to their everyday lives.

~ Steven Gendel


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