Lacking Principals
Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla, as guest conductor with the New York Philharmonic, is strong and vibrant. She uses her entire body to give physical and emotional cues, sometimes swaying or stamping a foot. Her left hand, not always beating time in a mirror of the right, might evaporate a chord with a gentle curl of her fingers. Gražinytė-Tyla adjusts dynamic like a fader on a mixing console, or makes a forward palm “stop” to quiet a section.
That particular gesture was given at least twice to the Philarmonic’s basses, who provided a resonant and enthusiastic bottom layer to Raminta Šerkšnytė’s De profundis for string orchestra. Šerkšnytė and Gražinytė-Tyla both hail from Lithuania, and are a credit to the country’s presence on the international stage. I know Gražinytė-Tyla from her Weinberg cycle with the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, which I pray she continues in her new role as principal guest conductor (formerly music director).
I believe the “new” David Geffen Hall—now in it’s second season—is much more responsive to the string sound overall, especially bass; the section might have indeed deserved Gražinytė-Tyla’s warning gesture. But I’m starting to believe I haven’t heard a true pianissimo from the Philharmonic in some time: one issue with “perfect,” responsive acoustics is that you can truly hear everything. Personally, I find the utmost joy in discovering musical moments that seem to emanate from the ether, so quiet that I initially thought no one was playing at all.
The program note for De profundis does a disservice to Šerkšnytė in calling her piece a student work. It may be accurate, but such a comment primes the listener with suspicion and clouds judgement. How easy it is to discount a composer’s effort with the descriptors “early” or “juvenilia!” The work takes the audience on a journey through repeated iterations of a minor third interval, over and over again. In various iterations of its rondo-like form, we hear a perpetual motion idea with notes quickly played off the string, and more lush intermediary sections like a romantic melody or underdeveloped quasi-waltz.
De profundis may suffer from cliche or hyper focus. At one point, the cloudy minor third becomes a sunny major third, but mostly the minor third idea is repeated at the expense of any others. However, it received a warm reception in the hall (the composer received a second, localized ovation as she returned to her seat) and leads me to seek out more of Šerkšnytė’s music.
Daniil Trifonov’s performance of the Schumann concerto left me questioning the Steinway’s ubiquity as piano of choice. Not due to his interpretation, which was clean and wiry. He may be prone to strong attack, but there’s a fervor in leaning on the front of the notes. Rather, the Steinway’s bass is simply overpowering when an extreme contrast of high and low pitch are played at the same time. This could lead to on over attack on pungent upper notes in order to keep the sound balanced. Sometimes, the right hand’s somersaults were wasted as they simply couldn’t be heard.
Beside Trifonov, the Philharmonic’s woodwinds stood out. I continue to appreciate their tutti ensemble sound in most works, and generally solos. Conspicuously absent for the Schumann were principals Judith LeClair (who ironically takes center stage on October’s program cover), Anthony McGill, and Ryan Roberts (both of whom have prominent solos in the Sibelius that ended the program). The concerto’s frequent clarinet solos sounded wan and transparent, lacking McGill’s rich, full tone.
Sibelius’s Lemminkäinen Suite is less known to me than any of his symphonies, so I was excited to hear it live for what was largely the first time. Gražinytė-Tyla programmed three of the suite’s four movements, each of which represent ancient stories about the titular Finnish folk hero.
“The Swan of Tuonela,” likely the most recognizable, played second in this ordering, had the most impact by far. It’s basically a slow movement for English horn and orchestra, with Ryan Roberts’s exquisite playing front and center. He has a special knack for seamlessly blending his entrances with the orchestra, then growing from nothing with a rich vibrato to distinguish tone.
This was especially effective when his music followed that of solo cello (Patrick Jee, taking the place of absent principal Carter Brey) or viola (yet another missing principal—I’m regrettably unfamiliar with the player in Cynthia Phelps’s stead). The three instruments have a reputation for throaty, human-like tones, here fully on display. I loved watching the communication of Roberts’s musicality as he made eye contact with Gražinytė-Tyla and rocked his body to show gentle, pulsing beats. Something you’d miss on a mere recording, to be sure.
Some parts of the outer sections—“Lemminkäinen and the Maidens,” Lemminkäinen’s Return—were sloppy, but overall held impact. One aspect a bit too impactful to the point of overwhelm was percussion. Daniel Drucker is a player I admire for pristine elegance, especially in the Philharmonic’s Sound ON! series, but on numerous occasions I felt his playing in the Sibelius to lack grace. The bass drum rolls were tubby and distracting; I can’t imagine that is the sound Gražinytė-Tyla desired. An obtrusive tambourine in the final movement also struck my ear.
Recalling an ear-shattering Pines of Rome last season, I wonder if percussion placed so near the back of the stage (as is required for works with large orchestra) rebounds harshly, jumping directly to the back of the hall. During pieces of smaller forces, I haven’t noticed an issue. Seating may also be to blame—my feedback regarding the bass sound is likely impacted by my place in front of the section. Regardless, I’m happy to be reminded of performance as a human, communicative act, a the and the power of a group behind a singular, musical goal.