Sunday 25 October 2015

The Symphony at Sea

It was a simple, bold programming idea, and somewhat daring with it.  This week the Toronto Symphony Orchestra mated together two major works, both composed in the first decade of the twentieth century, and both using the sea as a theme.


It sounds obvious, and yet it's hard to imagine anyone else pairing the music of Debussy and Vaughan Williams on the same concert.  All the more praise, then, to music director Peter Oundjian for this imaginative and compelling programme concept.


Debussy's La Mer (The Sea), aptly subtitled "Symphonic Sketches", was composed in 1903 and eventually became popular after Debussy himself conducted a performance five years later.  Before that, I'm sure orchestras and conductors alike had trouble with his novel idiom.


Even after more than a century of acquaintance, La Mer can still be a tough nut to crack.  The constant shifts in tone, dynamic and instrumentation add up to a convincing tone portrait of the sea in many different moods, but also contain any number of traps in interpretation -- not least in terms of the careful attention to balance of the various elements which has to happen so that whatever needs to be heard is audible at every turn.


I have to tread carefully here, because I was seated well over to one side of the hall and the sound picture may not be as true as in other locations.  But I did feel there were moments in this performance when balance suffered, when the heavy brasses became too overwhelming in the wrong way or the cellos and violas too quiet.


Certainly Oundjian's performance of La Mer lacked for nothing in energy, spirit, and motion -- and all three are essential.  The best parts overall were the quiet passages where sound seems to shimmer rather than vibrate.  But the buildup to the majestic final coda was also beautifully handled, and here the balance problems certainly did not occur.


Of course, it doesn't help matters that La Mer is not really among my favourite Debussy works!


The new and more detailed program book included a detailed three-page graphic diagram illustrating the ebb and flow and development of the music in a pictorial manner which is new to me.  I look forward to sitting down at home with this and listening to a recording of the music again with these graphics in front of me.


After the intermission, the large, majestic, grand first symphony of Ralph Vaughan Williams:  A Sea Symphony, composed between 1903 and 1909, and first performed in 1910.  This 70-minute work for choir, soloists and orchestra is truly symphonic, and a first rate conductor and orchestra are absolutely essential to bring it fully to life.  I've heard it sung before by a fine choir which was let down by the relatively weak contribution of the community orchestra called upon to do the honours.  So, in a very real sense, last night marked the first time I had truly heard either of these fine works.


A Sea Symphony shares with Mahler's mighty Symphony of a Thousand (premiered the following year) the idea of an opening that reaches right out, grabs the audience, and pulls them forcibly into the music's world.  The brass sound a fanfare in B-flat minor, the choir enters unaccompanied on the same chord, and the full orchestra and organ leap in at the choir's fourth note (which happens to be the word "sea") as the key flies upwards to D major.  This opening has to be both pinpoint precise and visionary in its impact.  Oundjian and company launched the lengthy voyage with both those qualities in full measure.


A few minutes in there's a shift of tone as the orchestra launches into a folk-like tune, sounding for all the world like an old sailors' sea-chantey -- although it is an original melody.  Here, baritone Russell Braun had to lead the choir into this rapid song, and then into the succeeding slower passage on "And out of these, a chant for the sailors of all nations".  I felt that he was straining at the notes in these pages, and the uncomfortable edge of the solo contrasted notably with the free and open sound of the chorus.


Soprano Erin Wall made her first entry after a reiteration of the opening fanfare, and her trumpet-like tone fitted the moment perfectly.  One of the things I admire most about Wall is her ability to bring her big sound right down to a single thread of tone while remaining both completely pure and rock-solid in pitch.  This was amply proven at the end of the first movement, when she floated her final pianissimo "Behold the sea itself" with both security and serenity above the murmuring of the choir.


The second movement nocturne, "On the beach at night alone" showed Braun to much greater advantage.  Here, his lieder-like tone was absolutely to the point in the gentle evocation and meditation on "the clef of the universes".  Balance between soloist and choir was impeccable, and the long quiet orchestral postlude beautifully shaped.


The scherzo, "The Waves", had plenty of energy, and the big tempo change for the grand procession of "Where the great vessel sailing" was perfectly managed by Oundjian.  The Toronto Mendelssohn Choir are absolutely in their element in such complicated music, the sort of piece that has everyone madly counting beats and rests in their heads when they're learning it!  The power and vigour of the music were perfectly captured, and perhaps only the last inch of joyous abandon was missing as the choir flung the last word, "following," off into space.


The long final movement brought the loveliest singing of the evening, in the quiet choral chanting of "Down from the gardens" and in the long, lyrical duet of the two soloists.  The grand outburst of "O Thou, transcendent" was beautifully shaped and sung loudly, but not too loudly, to leave still some room to grow into the final climax a few moments later.  Braun and Wall again sang as one in the urgent passage of "Reckless, O Soul, exploring."  Here, these two were indeed "carolling free" -- the text exactly describes the quality of their duet.  Then came the soaring climax, with Wall's voice ringing securely out above all else on "Sail forth!", and Oundjian powering through the complex orchestral combination of three major themes, with all of them clearly audible -- a magnificent moment.


I could have wished for a longer breathing space before Oundjian launched into the quiet epilogue, but there's always the danger of false applause! 


That epilogue was masterful, gentle, withdrawing into the infinite distance as the lines of poetry clearly indicate ("O farther, farther, farther sail.").  Once again, soloists and choir floated the high notes gently into the air while the orchestra as gently pieced out the final chords.  Pure magic.


Peter Oundjian has certainly shown his mastery in the music of Vaughan Williams in the past -- even winning kudos from Gramophone magazine for his live recordings of the Fourth and Fifth symphonies -- and this performance of A Sea Symphony fitted right into that line.  If the pairing with La mer was unexpected, it certainly worked well and made for a truly memorable evening of fine music.

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