Garrick Ohlsson's Big-Guy Gentleness and MN Orchestra

FRI, FEB 18, 2010 8 PM

Orchestra Hall, Minneapolis, MN

Minnesota Orchestra

Osmo Vänskä, conductor

Garrick Ohlsson, piano

BEETHOVEN	Grosse Fuge
CHOPIN	Piano Concerto No. 2
MOZART	Symphony No. 40

The Orchestra Hall looks like an AARP cocktail party. I spot some young couples and apparently music-student-looking kids. But it's still a sea of gray hair. Too bad for the young folks missing this, I think to myself, to not experience the surges of emotion that come from facing music so well created and performed.

I love the programming. Old man Ludwig van's internal musical workings mapped out in the massive fugue. Chopin's young tender heart. Mozart's quietly sad profile. And Garrick Ohlsson! How appropriate for the experienced Chopin virtuoso to interpret the youthful piece.

Grosse Fugue is a trip on polyphony. The arrangement for the full string orchestra is thick and powerful, obviously able to cover more ground than the original string quartet. I thought certain parts could have been less muddy and wondered if it was caused by the larger performance body. But then, I can't say for sure I wouldn't say the same thing hearing the same parts played by a string quartet. It is a complex piece that requires a listener to be aware of harmony and counterpoint. It helps me to visualize what is happening vertically and horizontally across the score.

The introduction given by one of the orchestra members before the tune is a nice touch. It always helps the audience at large to actually hear an explanation of the piece, even just a few sentences, than to have to chase it in the program notes during the performance. I wished for actual examples of thematic material to be played, so that the listener could follow them as they faced the work. Leonard Bernstein would've done it for his Young People's Concert. I think.

Garrick Ohlsson comes settling his large figure on the piano bench. He's a big guy. And he plays so gently and wonderfully. The first two movements glide by and I'm mesmerized by Chopin's virtuosic writing and Ohlsson's embodiment of it all. I breath with the phrases. My heart aches with tugs and turns of the piano sound. Then, the third movement comes.

I know the main theme from another piece, yet I fail to remember which. It haunts me for the duration of the piece despite my total involvement in it. Then, something magical happens.

Ohlsson plays the E-flat waltz Op. 18 for his encore. And I know that the theme came from the c-sharp posthumous nocturne. How does the connection work? I can't really explain.

The Mozart is such a treat. You hear the theme of the first movement all the time. But when was the last time you listened to the entire piece? All of it? I'm not sure when I listened to the whole thing with all my attention. I've certainly studied the piece as a music student. Even then, or because I was cramming so much music at the same time, I never allowed myself the luxury of sitting through the whole symphony. What a treat to be able to do that.

And I think, really, that that's what a live classical music concert is all about. Little bits and pieces of works you know and love come and go on a daily basis. You simply don't have the time. You might listen while doing something else - cleaning, gardening, working. But going to a live event forces you to sit with the music. Give yourself to it.

Isn't that just wonderful?

Schoenberg and Dvorak Quintets

SUN FEB 7, 2010 7PM
Antonello Hall, MacPhail Center for Music

SCHOENBERG	Wind Quintet, Opus 26	40'
Adam Kuenzel, flute and piccolo Basil Reeve, oboe Gregory T. Williams, clarinet Norbert Nielubowski, bassoon Herbert Winslow, horn
DVORÁK	String Quintet in G major, Opus 77	42'
Sarah Kwak, violin Céline Leathead, violin Matthew Young, viola Katja Linfield, cello Matthew Frischman, bass

"The other 'Super' event of the night," Reeve, the oboist announced on this Super Bowl evening. He followed with a short explanation of the piece, Shoenberg's Wind Quintet Op. 26, humorously commenting on its difficulty and the wackiness of the composer. I wondered how many people in the audience really knew about Schoenberg - that Op. 26 was composed just as he was getting the hang of his 12-tone technique, that the "emancipation of dissonance" can be heard in this piece perhaps because other musical factors like rhythm and form remain traditional, and that the emotion of the piece is in something that might feel distant from the gushing swells of the Romantic texture, but in the sparse yet intensifying patterns.

The performance, though not perfect, was very very good. The wood winds carried through with poise. There were some missed notes by the French horn, but those 7th leaps are not friendly for the instrument to begin with. I only wished for solid program notes on this piece, describing the form of each movement and examples of certain intervals and rhythmic patterns the audience could hang onto to make their listening experience more comprehensible.

A 10 minute intermission - or half-time. Then, the Dvorak.

I later learned from my friend, the bassist Matt Frischman, that the group only rehearsed this piece twice.

Twice.

And it was magnificent. All the performers are top-notch. Sarah Kwak plays this extremely difficult piece - the 1st violin has a part equivalent of a concerto soloist's - energetically and beautifully. In fact, the upper four parts have a soloistic quality. The second violin stands for her voice in a stately fashion. The viola doesn't have a subordinate or an accompaniment. The cello - oh, the cello - sings out tunes so vibrant and sensitive at the same time. Finally, the bass holds all these soulful parts together in a sense of calculated restraint.

Restraint does an emotion some magic.

Just as it is more touching to see someone hold back the tears than a loudly weeping drama queen, the bass makes the emotional quality work all together. The result is triumphant.

My conclusion: Chamber Music 1, Football 0.