Canadian Valentines

As an early valentine to the denizens of New York City, or perhaps a thank you for shooting down their UFOs, Canada delivered a beautiful performance by the Toronto Symphony Orchestra at Carnegie Hall. The first piece, Samy Moussa’s Symphony No. 2, certainly felt otherworldly in its musical connection to Wagner and cinematic fantasy. I eagerly sought recordings and scores to Moussa’s works, which are weighted in harmonic history and strongly orchestrated, but sometimes at the expense of engaging melodic material. 

Symphony No. 2  relies on  sequences of suspensions, resolved only to be left hanging by a change in the underlying harmony, to build tension over time, à la the previously-mentioned Wagner or contemporary Thomas Adès. It might be the sophisticated city cousin to his first foray in the genre, Concordia. The second is less earnest, eschewing sudden changes in mood or orchestration, but with longer dramatic builds and a sparkling panache to smooth things over. Sexier, too, in shape (Symphony No. 1 is lopsided: the third movement lasts about as long as the first two) and more cohesive sound—essential in a work place through with almost no silence.

In his notes for the piece, Moussa writes about trying to create a new brass sound, replacing the trumpets with flugelhorns and adding a euphonium to the mix. These instruments, along with the horns and tuba, have a conical bore; trombones (banished from the stage) and trumpets have a cylindrical bore. The instrument shape determines which overtones are emphasized, where cylindrical is often described as focused and direct compared to the warmer, silvery sound of conical bores. And the end result? Definitely mellow, but hard to attribute solely to the unusual instrumental lineup (more on this to come). Regardless, I was transfixed by Moussa’s swirling woodwinds, glimmers of pitched percussion, and Zimmer-like horn/string pads. Hopefully there are more many symphonies to come.

María Dueñas gave a fiery rendition of Lalo’s Symphony espangole for Violin and Orchestra after the symphony. With a sharp, incisive articulation and rich throaty tone on the violin’s low strings, it’s clear to see why the violinist is making solo rounds (this was her second Carnegie performance this season, last time with the Los Angeles Philharmonic in the fall). But through the piece’s five movements, I struggled to hear a level of musical thought beyond the notes. This is not an original take, I must add.

Most of the fiendish violin writing was played at a loud dynamic, like a late night MTA conductor barreling past the local stops between 59th and 125th. Only in the third movement’s Intermezzo, over a tango rhythm in the bass, did Dueñas play a true piano, quickly returning to her adamantly heavy style after just a few bars. Though she played well technically, the solo playing was devoid of emotional resonance or large dynamic contrast: if everything is heavy and dramatic, nothing is. The Toronto players shone in the colorful tutti openings of movements three through five, always scaling back to the role of accompanists as needed.

Dueñas made her professional soloist debut with the San Francisco symphony at 16—the same age as the oldest half of Shakespeare’s star-crossed lovers. She still can’t have a post-concert drink in the States, but age didn’t stop Romeo from imbibing his own fateful cocktail, as depicted in the penultimate movement of Prokofiev’s Suite from Romeo and Juliet (compiled by Toronto’s music director and conductor Gustavo Gimeno). This piece is alternately dark and playful, with quick adjustments to tone and a propensity, much like Moussa’s symphony, for the lower ranges of instruments.

Each section had a moment to shine, but the orchestra never reached a level of sentimentality I would expect from depictions of the balcony scene, our lovers’ final parting, or the death of Juliet—holding back instead with a cool detachment. This was especially evident in the strings, who favored a chilly laid-back tone, and thought I heard mutes much more often than they were actually used. It would be silly to assume the polite national stereotype or colder climes of Canadian tundra influence an orchestra’s performance style, eh?

Maybe the audience fervor spilled over, or perhaps the orchestra felt relaxed enough to finally loosen up, but after several rounds of applause Carnegie received stunning encores. I delighted in Shostakovich’s Lyrical Waltz from Ballet Suite No. 2, dripping in dainty Soviet sarcasm and providing companionship to Prokofiev’s dance forms. Toronto played to the evening’s home crowd and romantic theme with an arrangement of “Somewhere” from West Side Story. Neil Deland’s soaring horn opened the piece, and I relished violist Michael Casimir’s sensual solo in the second verse. In the piece’s final phrases, my seat mate wiped a single, streaming tear from her cheek.