There's both something special, and something very simple, about going to hear your hometown symphony. You remember your thrill as a child, perhaps studying with members of the orchestra, of looking up to the professionals who seem to magically perform impossible feats every moment. You also remember when you started learning about the world outside of your immediate periphery, and became curious to hear live what others transmit as legend, or what you've gleaned from a library's recording. And then, you grow up, and realize how vital a role the orchestra plays in your community, how fortunate your city is to have one, and come to understand the commitment, care, and yes, sacrifice, that every member of the orchestra makes, day in and day out, to keep its existence continuing.
So when my good friend said she had two tickets courtesy of a corporate sponsor, and did I want to go, we had a look at the programme, and decided, "Sure, looks interesting, why not." Very nice that we had among the best seats in the house - prime parquet.
The programme was titled "From the New World" and consisted of Copland's Quiet City, a new trumpet concerto (2009) by also-conductor Bramwell Tovey, and, of course, Dvorak's New World Symphony.
As is the new way in many orchestral concerts, the evening began with an acknowledgement of the main sponsors. At worst, this can frame the concert as background music for an advertisement for these companies. At best, as was tonight's delivery, it serves as an equally grateful and proud introduction to the enjoyment that is to follow, a recognition of the work and support that, as the cliché so aptly states, makes the evening possible.
A succinct and well-crafted intro by the CPO's Principle Trumpet "Emeritus" Howard Engstrom took us from Calgary into the world of Aaron Copland - early Americana portrayed in youthful innocence. The solos were lovely, gently played by Adam Zinatelli, CPO's Principle Trumpet , and David Sussman, CPO's English Horn, and the piece kept its spell from beginning to end.
Bramwell Tovey's trumpet concerto Songs from the Paradise Saloon, required a veritable family of trumpets, and soloist Andrew McCandless, Toronto Symphony's Principle Trumpet, took advantage of this very visual conversation-piece in his introduction. Appearing thoroughly at home with addressing a large crowd, his speech started down a road that well could have ended in a ditch of not-quite-successful stand-up-comedy - a few remarks in, he noted having no idea whether the concert would go well tonight, and then noted his use of self-deprecation ... and then, with the audience already warmed up to him, he steered it straight into very-successful and witty stand-up comedy zone, accompanied zestfully by Tovey, with great rapport. When Tovey pointed out McCandless's second use of self-deprecation, the latter responded in mock exasperation, "Just let me handle this, ok??", and sighed to the audience, "Conductors!" The duo's hilarious improv culminated in airing dirty laundry regarding the correct pronunciation of "cornet", which McCandless informed us that Tovey, a Brit, had corrected him of "in front of two thousand people" during his introduction at yesterday's concert. Tovey meanwhile glanced pointedly at his wristwatch, and then in his part of the introduction wished us a "Happy Titanic Anniversary", explaining that all that could be said about the concerto had been said.
As it turned out, that wasn't quite the case: the concerto is extracted from Tovey's opera The Inventor, about notorious 19th-century Canadian criminal "Sandy" Keith, and Tovey's descriptions of the scenes of debauchery were a colourful and helpful lead-in to the music. My friend (not a musician) and I (a musician) agreed that this way of learning about the music was thoroughly entertaining, and made for much better evening than either not knowing what the music was intended to be about (potentially shocking anyone expecting more demure or Mozartean classical music), or having to read programme notes to find out the plot (I personally prefer to read the notes on the way home, after the concert). This might be the place for an enthusiastic "Two thumbs up!!"
As it turned out, that wasn't quite the case: the concerto is extracted from Tovey's opera The Inventor, about notorious 19th-century Canadian criminal "Sandy" Keith, and Tovey's descriptions of the scenes of debauchery were a colourful and helpful lead-in to the music. My friend (not a musician) and I (a musician) agreed that this way of learning about the music was thoroughly entertaining, and made for much better evening than either not knowing what the music was intended to be about (potentially shocking anyone expecting more demure or Mozartean classical music), or having to read programme notes to find out the plot (I personally prefer to read the notes on the way home, after the concert). This might be the place for an enthusiastic "Two thumbs up!!"
The music, and the performance, were no less praiseworthy. I was deeply impressed by the concerto, which displayed a mastery of style and all the old-time enterprises of harmony, counterpoint, rhythm, and orchestration, coming together in songs with fresh sounds, blends, and expression to suit the scene and characters of the saloon. There is a great deal of focus in modern classical composition to create anew, but to do so with full knowledge, understanding, and ability of the old, shows a rare and complete musician. I felt myself becoming a Bramwell Tovey fan.
Andrew McCandless played flawlessly and with verve, fighting the orchestra's thick sonority bravely, weaving spikily in and out of the texture. He is in some ways at the mercy of the orchestra, and finding flexibility is not easy, but then perhaps that is not the point - he never gets to play the theme but dances around it in variations. He is, as it were, re-inventing the reality around him.
Andrew McCandless played flawlessly and with verve, fighting the orchestra's thick sonority bravely, weaving spikily in and out of the texture. He is in some ways at the mercy of the orchestra, and finding flexibility is not easy, but then perhaps that is not the point - he never gets to play the theme but dances around it in variations. He is, as it were, re-inventing the reality around him.
In terms of trumpet show-casing, the evening offered an interesting juxtaposition: Zinatelli had the more exposed role, but played in more subdued hues, while McCandless had the brilliant and more technical role, as well as the longer piece, but was in a sense granted less spotlight in relation to the orchestra. And so the question of "which city, Toronto or Calgary, has the better Principal Trumpet", could be neatly avoided, not always a given in such guest situations.
The best-known work on the programme was of course Dvorák's New World Symphony. It needed no introduction. But it needed a little reminder of traditions: the Calgary audience, under music director Roberto Minczuk's now 6-year tenure, has been encouraged to clap between movements, and did so enthusiastically after the first movement. Maestro Tovey handled it just as I would hope - he gave a nod of appreciation for the sentiment, but made it clear with another gesture that he wished to continue, for the movements to be allowed to relate to one another uninterruptedly. (Presumably those few who clapped after the 2nd movement appreciated his reaction so much they wished to elicit it again - but this time I daresay he frowned.) He was careful to take only a short enough break between the third and fourth, to avoid any applause there. But the immediate and heartfelt standing ovation at the end was fully taken in and absolutely deserved - it was a wonderful performance. The orchestra sounded among the best I've heard it - beautifully blended, with a clear path of interpretation throughout, warm and meaningful. The very special second movement in particular shone in splendid beauty. It was a very satisfying performance indeed.
It also reminded me of just how much power is vested in the conductor. In contrast to tonight, I had been rather disheartened by a previous CPO performance of Brahms' 4th symphony, with a different conductor, which to my ears had been overly driven and harsh, (reminding me for some reason of undercooked risotto, or overbrushed- and too-sparkling-whitened- teeth). It does not take musician-ears to feel something amiss in the emotion: the audience remained seated and the clapping was distinctly polite, ending after just one curtain call. As Brahms and Dvorák were contemporaries with similarities in their writing, and a Brahms symphony certainly no less of a masterwork than Dvorák's, the cause was clearly the performance, and I had had some hesitation at the prospect of subjecting myself to an interpretation so counter my taste again.
So it was especially delightful to find just the opposite tonight - to find myself thrilled, and the whole house too. The conductor is, after all, the guiding light - leading the rehearsals, and channelling his interpretation's electricity into gestures to unite the musicians, taking into account all that we have to offer as well.
It also reminded me of just how much power is vested in the conductor. In contrast to tonight, I had been rather disheartened by a previous CPO performance of Brahms' 4th symphony, with a different conductor, which to my ears had been overly driven and harsh, (reminding me for some reason of undercooked risotto, or overbrushed- and too-sparkling-whitened- teeth). It does not take musician-ears to feel something amiss in the emotion: the audience remained seated and the clapping was distinctly polite, ending after just one curtain call. As Brahms and Dvorák were contemporaries with similarities in their writing, and a Brahms symphony certainly no less of a masterwork than Dvorák's, the cause was clearly the performance, and I had had some hesitation at the prospect of subjecting myself to an interpretation so counter my taste again.
So it was especially delightful to find just the opposite tonight - to find myself thrilled, and the whole house too. The conductor is, after all, the guiding light - leading the rehearsals, and channelling his interpretation's electricity into gestures to unite the musicians, taking into account all that we have to offer as well.
It was thoroughly satisfying to see my home-city's now-colleagues playing their best, to experience this excellent performance. Sipping tea with my friend afterwards, I found myself telling the waiter - "We were down the street at the symphony tonight - you've never been? It was wonderful, you should go!"
And so, regarding the much-talked-about future of classical music and of reaching new audiences, I can't help feeling that it takes BOTH of two key ingredients: new innovative presentation, AND the old traditional highest standards of quality.
We all feel it. Or as the CPO slogan goes, we "Feel It Live".
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