Orchestra, soloist find middle ground
David Weininger, The Boston Globe, October 17, 2005
Posted: 2005-10-17 10:48:17
CAMBRIDGE -- Introducing John Harbison's Viola Concerto to the audience at Friday's Boston Philharmonic concert, Benjamin Zander remarked that the viola "lives in the middle of things." He meant that this darkest of string instruments finds its place deep within musical textures rather than at their extremes. Something similar could be said for Harbison's piece, which brings together many of the conflicting tendencies that drive his music. Stretches that sound free, almost improvisatory, alternate with passages of strict counterpoint, and broad, intricate melodies sit side-by-side with close, dissonant harmonies. The orchestration is striking, the instruments conversing with each other in unexpected ways, but the overall sound palette is muted, almost reticent.
Those opposing forces make the concerto a fascinating, hermetic work, moving from haunting contemplation to a finale of fast-changing rhythmic and virtuoso pyrotechnics from the soloist. Harbison has said that he wrote the concerto for the violist he never became. Judging by the chops it requires, that means only that Harbison didn't become one of the best in the world.
Kim Kashkashian certainly is, though. An excellent soloist with a strong penchant for contemporary music, she brought a warm, muscular tone and a keen sense of musicianship to the solo part. A few intonation slips aside, she did a near-perfect job of opening its complexities and conquering the high-wire tarantellas of the finale. Her partners in the Philharmonic played with equal assurance, and Zander did an excellent job of maintaining balance between Kashkashian and the chamber-sized orchestra.
The program was filled out by two pinnacles of 19th-century Romanticism: Brahms's "Tragic Overture" and Schumann's Third Symphony (the "Rhenish"). Both performances fit a now-familiar Philharmonic template. There was plenty of excitement and gusto when they were called for, less in the way of subtlety and give-and-take. The Schumann started and ended with irresistible momentum, rhythmic energy, and real flair in the playing. Somewhere along the way, though, long stretches began to sound the same, as if the orchestra were merely traveling from landmark to landmark, and all the excitement became overbearing. The strings and brass had moments of discomfort, and the vividness of the Philharmonic sound occasionally shifted to glare, especially in the Brahms.
Ultimately these performances too "lived in the middle of things," suspended between the passion Zander and his musicians generated and the nuance and detail they often missed. It was left to each listener to decide which side was most important. Judging from the audience's enthusiastic response, few had trouble making up their minds.
