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Otherworldly music
An æsthetic less-knownFriday, April 15, 2005
By Amanda von GoetzNew Jersey Symphony Orchestra, Anne Manson (conductor), Evelyn Glennie (percussion). Michael Daugherty: UFO, for percussion and orchestra; Brahms: Symphony no. 4 in E minor. Prudential Hall, Newark.
The New Jersey Symphony Orchestra settled into a hush - silent and motionless. The audience, too, sat quieted. A vibrant energy circled throughout the packed hall, perhaps in anticipation for what was to come, or perhaps in edgy uneasiness at the sudden change in the orchestra's demeanor.
The lights dimmed to enclose the audience in complete darkness, and the yellow spotlights that had shone brightly upon the stage slowly morphed into rich hues of florescent pinks and blues. From the static stillness there arose a faint wavering metallic hum that emanated from what seemed like "off-stage." Listeners craned their necks in an effort to catch a glimpse behind the hanging black curtains that marked the backstage area. Everyone was eager to discover which musician was responsible for generating the unusual sound, but it soon proved utterly useless to try to find logic in such madness. The culprit, whoever it was, was one elusive creature.
Another low hum. This time, it lingered longer and seemed somehow louder and closer than before. By the time the third or fourth wave of humming ensued, listeners could be sure. The sound was not coming from backstage at all - it was coming from the back of the hall.
Craning necks suddenly whipped around to face the back entrance of Prudential Hall. There, in the glow of a solo spotlight that slashed through the darkness like a knife, the being with the spine-chilling call of the wild was unveiled and revealed.
Her human form was discernable by the sequined red pants she wore, accompanied by a red ruffled shirt that loosely wrapped around her like a toreador's garb, and smoky iridescent charcoal eye shadow that sparkled upon her sealed lids. Barefoot and with a graceful panther-like tread, the creature slowly made her way down the aisle, emitting wavering hums as she went, drawing a bow across what appeared to be a very large metal birdcage. When the creature finally reached the stage, conductor Anne Manson raised her arms gently to cue the musicians, and the strings slid softly into musical textures to join the creature and her birdcage in a sequence of harmonic wailings through the metaphysical cosmos.
This was the magic of Evelyn Glennie.
Michael Daugherty's concerto for percussion and orchestra, UFO, much like Ms. Glennie, is absolutely astonishing. The work's major sections (appropriately entitled "Unidentified," "Flying," and "Objects,") yield a programmatic theme that is associated with various alien conspiracy theories, particularly the infamous mystique surrounding the 1947 "incident at Roswell, New Mexico." Daugherty's score had Ms. Glennie performing on the waterphone, xylophone, vibraphone, cymbal disc, ice cymbal, alien cymbal, crasher, slasher, brake drum, bass drum, octobans, tom-toms, bongos, earth plate, kit temple blocks, Latin cowbells, Chinese gongs, mechanical sirens, and even an overturned metal trash can.
Glennie is amazing! A fireball! An anomaly! A force of nature! Needless to say, her rhythm was tight, and her technique flawless, but the most stunning element of her performance was not the ability to beat the living daylights out of a drum, nor the ease with which she threw off every other element of the score. Rather, it was the musicality with which she approached the musical lines that was simply astounding. She paid respect to each instrument for its unique qualities, displaying great tenderness and gratitude for every sound she drew. Her warm energy soared throughout the performance, made evident from her assault on the full drum set, right down to how her fingers caressed the tiny set of chimes, or the way she brushed the cymbals with a double bass bow. Glennie seemed like a one-woman army, an alien with ten arms. All that was visible was a blur and she appeared to be everywhere at once! At the same time, however, never did she find herself rushing from one set of propped instruments to the next. She was aware (most likely to the millisecond) of exactly how much time she had until her next entrance and spent her few spare moments moving about the stage at leisure with the poise of a dancer and the prowess of a tiger. It really is no wonder that the phrase "Galactic Glennie" appeared in bold-faced print on the evening's admittance tickets. "Galactic" she is, indeed, but she really is so much more than that. And any description, regardless of how vivid or detailed, will simply not do her justice. When the concerto ended, the audience paused for a second, obviously stunned at what they had just witnessed, before breaking into a wild and roaring applause.
Shifting gears in the second half of the concert, the orchestra performed Brahms' Symphony No. 4 in E minor, a work written by a very different Johannes than the one who turned out the First Symphony. This Brahms was ripened, perhaps less idealistic, and definitely more severe in temperament. Ms. Manson brought a solid "masculinity" mixed with a velvety elegance to the podium, and the NJSO sounded marvelous. The strings used "tasteful" vibrato throughout; not enough to destroy the continuity or silky quality of their lines, but with ample intensity to lace their tone with lustrous warmth. The clarinet solo was carried off beautifully in the second movement, and the flute solo in the fourth movement was also admirably executed. Incidentally, this particular flute solo is arguably one of the most difficult orchestral excerpts in the flute repertoire, for the melodic line reaches its apex early on, abandoning the remainder of the phrase to float aimlessly in anticlimactic waters.
The NJSO should be praised not only for a great performance, but also for an intelligent and commendable effort to continually program "something for everyone." With the evening's performance, they managed to combine the "new and cutting edge" in UFO with "a classic of the classics" in Brahms' final symphony. Such an incorporation of contrasting genres within one program made for a very inventive pitch to engage listeners. This is the way to bring new audiences to classical music concerts, championing new music while simultaneously cherishing great staples of the past. As is often the case, listeners who are faithful to the great works and composers of an era long gone too often are the most difficult individuals to "hook" into new music. If a jeweler were to spend all his time at home polishing his collection over and over, how would he ever expect to discover new gems? But the NJSO is not just "sitting at home." They are out there, actively seeking new "diamonds," and as a result they are doing a great service to the community by taking listeners along for the ride on a dazzling journey across the terrains of an æsthetic less-known.