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Outrageous Haydn
Conductorless Young ProfessionalsSunday, April 3, 2005
By Amanda von GoetzSejong Soloists with Lynn Harrell (cello). Toru Takemitsu: Film music - "Music of Training and Rest," (from Jose Torres) "Waltz" (from Face of
Another); Gershwin: Lullaby; Bartók: Divertimento for String Orchestra, Sz. 113; Haydn: Cello Concerto in C Major, Hob. VIIb:5; Bruch: Kol Nidrei for cello and orchestra, Op. 47. Community Theater of Morristown.The Sejong Soloists chamber orchestra consists of young, fiery players, all of whom seem anxious to tackle the major works available to their all-string group. Under the guidance of Artistic Director Hyo Kang, the Soloists have successfully established a reputation as one of the top young professional ensembles to emerge from the new generation. Their performance at the Community Theater of Morristown on April 3 confirmed that they are more than worthy of such hype.
Cellist Lynn Harrell joined the Soloists in Haydn's Cello Concerto in C Major. He emerged to take the stage at the opening of the second half of the performance, and although the man carried himself with a kindly, warm, and rather understated presence, the message was still crystal clear: "Hats off, gentlemen!" (to quote Schumann) - the star had, indeed, arrived.
Following the opening orchestral *tutti of the Moderato, Harrell began to glide through line after line of Haydn's graceful textures with a relaxed ease, as if he had performed this work a thousand times - in fact, judging from his biography and supreme fame, he probably has. Still, there were no traces of stagnancy or boredom to be heard, but rather, he seemed to take a fresh approach to each phrase, and his gorgeous tone and effortless interpretation only further facilitated his ability to weave phrases colorfully and masterfully.
Harrell had a few surprises in store for both audience and players. When he arrived at the first movement *cadenza, he paused at the rests within his grand solo for a bit of fun. The first time, he swung his cello away from him in a three-sixty degree turn, only to have it arrive right back where it started. Several gasps of surprise rose from the audience, and Harrell seemed to enjoy the effect of his mischievous little prank. The second time he arrived at such a rest, he took a moment to adjust the instrument, staring at it for a few brief seconds as if he had never seen it before in his entire life. This was met with chuckles from audience members, who were now clued to his games. Yet once again, Harrell was one step ahead. As he resumed his dynamic cadenza with the most serious of looks upon his face, his lips slowly curled into a knowing smile and then - BOOM! - listeners suddenly found themselves immersed in the color world of Mahler's "Resurrection" Symphony. Harrell ripped into the opening C-minor theme from the first movement, and listeners seemed very amused - even more so when Harrell again changed modes and launched into a jaunty rendition of "The Mexican Hat Dance." Even though Haydn may have done his own three-sixty degree turn in the grave, Harrell undoubtedly gave the audience a good time, and that is hardly a point worth arguing.
The cellist performed the Adagio movement with honest sentiment, and ceased all tomfoolery in order to enjoy the delicate phrases and melancholic modulations before hurling himself into the Allegro molto at a breakneck speed. As the Soloists sat in a semi-circle on stage surrounding Harrell, the setting seemed more like a bunch of kids around the campfire, soaking up exciting tales from a master storyteller. When Haydn finally gave Harrell a break and in order to allow the orchestra to restate the opening theme, the soloist took it upon himself to play the corresponding *figured bass chords. Who knows whether or not Harrell had decided to follow these patterns in rehearsal, but from the smile and raised eyebrows it elicited from violist Beth Guterman, one could guess that this was probably a moment when Harrell simply felt restless or possibly disappointed at having nothing to do during the orchestra tutti, and so spontaneously decided to join right in with the festivities. The Soloists accommodated their guest, supporting him with ceaseless energy and enthusiasm, undivided attention and devotion.
This is not to imply, however, that the conductor-less chamber orchestra didn't deliver during their moments to shine independently. Their interpretation of Bartok's Divertimento for string orchestra, Sz. 113, was chillingly exciting, and they sawed into the folk-like tunes with great delight and almost triumphant pride, while never ignoring the steady rhythmic *ostinato that is the main driving force behind the work. The Soloists always seemed to be pushing forward, yet never rushed. Their ensemble was clean and their precision was quite admirable.
They performed two selections from Toru Takemitsu's Three Film Scores for Strings with a rich, strong tone that gave the illusion that the ensemble was much larger than its actual small numbers. Surely the fine instruments that the musicians are lent upon induction into the Sejong Soloists don't hurt that sound production. Takemitsu's music is certainly well-suited to film scores; the "Music of Training and Rest" from Jose Torres conjures images of James Bond movies, and the "Waltz" from Face of Another is somewhat reminiscent of the deranged tango scene from The Addams Family. The music is very effective and well-written, but nevertheless proved unable to hold a candle to its successor on the afternoon's program, also by a twentieth-century composer, George Gershwin.
In Gershwin's Lullaby, originally for string quartet, the Sejong concertmaster and the principal violist initiated a colorful dialogue with their respective solos, thus keeping the quartet sound before the audience. The cello section provided wonderful lilting bass lines as the group captured the carefree aura of the piece wonderfully, the epitome of a picture-perfect scene on the Riviera. The final *pizzicato was executed adorably and so sweetly, that the audience sighed and chuckled light-heartedly as one.
The final piece on the program was Bruch's Kol Nidrei for cello and orchestra. Here Harrell took the proper measures to remind the audience that he is, after all, a master of lyricism. This was perhaps the cellist's most meditative moment, and he drew the Sejong Soloists into the reverential mood. No matter what the members of the ensemble are playing, they give it all they've got < and it definitely shows. Bravi.