While riding the T, I have often made room for the crowds emptying out of Symphony Hall after a performance by the Boston Symphony Orchestra. Thursday night, I finally became one of the chattering throng pushing their way home via the “E” Line.
To be honest, the thought of sitting and listening to orchestral music unaccompanied by a vocal or dance performance had never appealed to me. I’d rather crank up a CD at home where I can dance to it. Intuition tells me rising from one’s seat and doing grand jetés and impersonating a dying swan is outside the pale when attending the symphony. Most of the people I surveyed for “Who and What They Know” agreed with me. They’d rather go to a ballet performance than a classical music performance because the stimulus of a symphony was very hard to imagine.
They’ve obviously never encountered Prof. Gregory Slowik. An image of what was to come at Symphony Hall came to life as I listened to Prof. Slowik introduce and expound on the music that we would hear the following evening. Learning the history of the music and the featured composers was essential to creating anticipation for what was to follow.
As the distance between centuries grows, their history and customs can desiccate to irrelevant dust. Sustaining the arts means keeping its long dead creators fleshy and full of juice to quicken the new audience’s appetite. My favorite historical tidbit was learning of Mahler’s Judaic faith and how it hindered his inclusion in a Roman Catholic patronage system. Prof. Slowik’s asserted that the tweaking of “Frére Jacques,” and the presence of klezmer and gypsy glissandos constituted a grand thumbing of the nose to the powers that be. Immediately, my imagination was piqued and I began to consider how these sounds might be realized by a live orchestra.
The BSO performs at Symphony Hall, “one of the two or three finest concert halls in the world.1” The space seems smaller than the Wang Theater, which might explain why all the seats were filled for the BSO and there were notable gaps at the Boston Ballet. However, it did seem like the same crowd was in attendance—older, Caucasian and seemingly affluent. More foreign tongues were heard and there were no children present at the BSO.
Three pieces were performed in this order: Haydn’s Symphony No. 104 in D, “London;” Elliott Carter’s Horn Concerto (2006), and Mahler’s Symphony No. 1 in D. The music’s order was confusing at first. Haydn’s music seemed more accessible for enjoyment, but it was first in line. The Boston Ballet put its crowd-pleaser at the end and the more esoteric piece up front. I wondered if it was my general ignorance of classical music traditions, or if the BSO has the influence to demand more of its audiences.
The Haydn piece would be the one that would cause me to drop my overcoat to reveal my tutu and ballet superpowers. The melody was so lively and irrepressible. The Haydn really started the night with an energetic bounce. Being forced to sit still during music that so beckons movement in response is a challenge. James Levine, the conductor, is the luckiest man in the room because he has the right to move along with the music.
Despite Haydn’s sprightly tempo, Levine managed to fit the “minimalist” mold that Prof. Slowik described in his pre-performance lecture. His movements were circumscribed and didn’t distract from the wonderful music being played. The second piece by Elliott Carter was a distinct departure from the Haydn. Carter’s music was more of a tone poem. His music inspired my mind to paint blocks of color marred by contrasting trickles, depicting an urban scene in broad, impressionistic strokes. The performance was a world debut, and Carter was on hand to hear it and come on stage to accept a standing ovation.
The evening concluded with a delicious performance of Mahler. Levine threw off his minimalist cloak and exhorted his orchestra with every inch of his body including his hair. At times, I thought he might fall off his chair. The conducting style was so different from the first half, I wondered if Levine was so passionate because of his love of Mahler, or did the piece demand the conductor to physically communicate the strength and commitment needed to perform the piece? The charged music seemed to create a magnetic force pulling everyone towards center stage.
The long standing ovation left my hands tingling and tender. After Levine and the musicians took their last bows, I streamed out with the excited crowd into the street and down into the Green Line tunnels. I understood the program’s order only after feasting on the night’s music. Haydn’s composition was a refreshing surprise to whet the appetite. Carter’s Horn Concerto (2006) served up a nourishing slice of introspection. The succulent Mahler performance was meant to be ravished and I fell on the music with pleasure. As I crowded onto the subway, I hoped no one noticed the juice dribbling down my chin.
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