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Dallas Symphony Orchestra at Carnegie Hall
By Philip Anson / February 9, 2001
On the Aisle Dallas Symphony Orchestra
Carnegie Hall
Feb. 9, 2001
The Big Five Orchestras in the USA have been hogging the headlines recently, as they battle over star music directors and conductors. Their lesser orchestral brethren, hailing from the capitol cities of each state, have continued to do their good but uncelebrated work for their local constituencies, recording the occasional compact disc, and sometimes touring to New York, Europe, or even Asia. A few months ago Andrew Litton, music director of the Dallas Symphony Orchestra, made headlines when he complained that his orchestra was unjustly ignored at the expense of the bigger, richer, more established symphonic ensembles. Well, Litton and the DSO visited Carnegie hall on Feb. 9 to strut its stuff and stake its claim in the fame game. No revelations ensued. Though the DSO was no worse than many ensembles which visit that august venue, it hardly posed a threat to the Big Five.
The program was more adventurous than is usual in these cases. It opened with the usual contemporary work, in this case Cindy McTee’s Timepiece (1999), commissioned for the DSO’s centenary last year. The shortish work rehashed the orchestral manoeuvres that we associate with film noir chase scenes -- you know, the eerie ratchet and shaker music that symbolizes an invisible but implacable pursuer. There were a few Philip Glass-like repetitive motifs and some rummaging in the junk pile of percussion (the work is scored for everything from cowbells to castanets). This was the first time Timepiece was played in New York, and quite probably the last.
Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 6 in B minor, Op. 54 (1939) followed. This potboiler which gained Stalin’s approval is not one of Shostakovich’s most brilliant works. It is symmetrical and predictable, with a quiet Largo, a raucous Allegro, and a crowd pleasingly loud, fast Presto finale. Litton obviously took the work seriously and loved it almost to death. The Largo was played with exaggerated pathos, but on a purely technical level lacked the tense wind and string tone that Shostakovich uses to convey psychological despair. As if to compensate for the limp Largo, the Allegro was too loud, with deafening cymbal clashes. The Presto galloped to a satisfactory conclusion. The DSO has two bad habits. First, in the Largo, instead of representing Shostakovichian despair and ennui, the orchestra itself WAS boring. This is taking fidelity to the composer’s intentions too far. Secondly, the DSO exaggerates both loud and soft dynamics, unaware that sometimes less is more. They say that everything is bigger in Texas, and I guess that includes the audiences appetite for raw, bulk culture. But the DSO strings seemed incapable of playing a meaningful pianissimo. Their loud playing is undeniably impressive, but is ultimately just a powerful displacement of air. As the New York Times wrote,”what was also striking about the Shostakovich performance was its complete lack of irony ... This lack of emotional depth was consistent throughout the concert.”
After the intermission, the excellent pianist Stephen Hough joined the DSO to play the NY premiere of Lowell Liebermann’s Piano Concerto No. 2, Op. 36 (1992), a shamelessly derivative crowd-pleaser. The program notes emphasize that the work is in the romantic tradition. In other words, Liebermann (who is the DSO’s composer- in residence) is untouched by atonality, Darmstadt, serialism, electronic music, Carter, Boulez, et al. He is closer to Barber and Copland, which was good news to most audience members. His music is technically difficult to play, but all the virtuosity seems to be gymnastic, not balletic; formulaic routines without corresponding emotional or intellectual value.
Hough played the thousands of notes perfectly, from memory (the concerto was dedicated to him and debuted by him). One listened attentively, playing name that tune as the snatches of Rachmaninov, Shostakovich, Prokofiev, Ravel, and so on, rolled by. Much of the dense piano writing was drowned out by the even thicker orchestral sound. The Adagio was again dulled by the DSO’s over-earnest slowness. Still, the work was entertaining, which is nice. Stravinsky’s Firebird Suite (1945 revision) lacked structure and vision, flapped its wings, and fizzled out without making much of an impression. The strings didn’t glow, so the slow music lacked atmosphere, and the notorious climax (made famous by Stokowski in the Disney film Fantasia) flopped. Altogether, the concert was a perplexing mix of provincial hubris (DSO, Litton, music) and cosmopolitan polish (Hough).
>Carnegie Hall
Copyright by Philip Anson (Questions or comments? Philanson@aol.com).
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