TSO: New Creations Festival, 2011
While these shows were fresh in my mind I wanted to get some quick notes down. I'm a nerd for not wanting to throw my full reviews out of sequence, so by and by I'll put up a full review, which will include increased ramblings on a range of topics, including my memories of the smell of bannock, The Man Who Knew Too Much, mutterings about class war and curiosity on why someone would choose to play the bassoon. For the moment, though, let's focus on the music itself.
"Short Ride in a Fast Machine" (Wed. Mar. 2, 2011)
The first concert of the series opened and closed with works by John Adams, leading off with the eponymous "Short Ride in a Fast Machine" — five minutes of straight-up "go", compressed to popsong length. Backed by a constantly clattering woodblock, this is probably the closest thing you're going to get at the symphony to a "more cowbell" moment, and in its surging gusto, the piece probably owes as much to Carl Stalling as to any more "highbrow" referent. All of which makes it top notch in my book.
Vincent Ho's "The Shaman" had a similar percussive kick to it — in fact it was designed as a showcase for Dame Evelyn Glennie, said to be the world's only full-time symphonic percussionist. For the first few minutes with Glennie leading the charge, it felt like an electroacoustic improvisation until the strings kicked in — then the composer's hand was more strongly felt. Glennie would literally dash between her three percussion workstations, composed of Brobdingnagian-looking instruments including giant drums and marimbas. The orchestration during the more roiling segments was sometimes a bit of a mixed bag, with a bit of a "throw in the kitchen sink" sort of feel. Although the busier sections were entertaining just by virtue of Glennie's physicality, I think my favourite part here was a quiet interlude where the vibes resonated against the stillness, their sounds hanging in the air — lingering, lingering. The whole of it engaged me in fits and starts, but audience liked it, and a fair number of people stood to applaud.
After intermission, the night concluded with Adams' "Harmonielehre" — a word that still makes my eyes glaze over when I try to pronouce it. Introduced by Adams as a "bizarre marriage" of minimalism and Germanic Romantic music, it started with a jarring minimalist riff before finding some Glass-ian repetition, it rolled along like it could have been called "Minimalism!" for almost five minutes before a metronomic marimba urged itself forward. Then came the opposite side of the coin, with the lush romantic theme on the strings — and the rest of the piece was basically those two forces rubbing up against each other in different ways. I found the first movement, going not-quite twenty minutes to be be both mentally exciting and emotionally elevating.
It was interesting to see the two styles slide against each other in different ways — sometimes one dominating the other, but at a few points feeling more like a mashup of two separate compositions playing simultaneously. I was wearing down a bit by the end of it, but it was rather lovely. At the stirring ending, just on the cusp of the crowd's applause, someone burst forth with a hearty, unsymphonic "yeah!"
"Electronica Meets Orchestra" (Sat. Mar. 5, 2011)
This night's title was an interesting demonstration of the pace at which "popular" forms filter up into the high culture. Although it's not particularly my realm, "electronica", as a word or concept, has a bit of a turn-of-the-century whiff to it, coming off (in the accelerated world of pop forms) as a bit quaint. The night took its name in a nod to Mason Bates' "Liquid Interface", on which the composer took part in "playing" his laptop and drumpad alongside the orchestra.
As the title implies, the piece was a sonic exploration of various states of water, from icebergs sliding to the sea to the patter of falling droplets to the overwhelming power of a gale. Bates' contributions were mostly percussive, and surrounded by the lushness of the orchestra, the beats sounded somewhat tinny and boxy. The various movements went in a few interesting directions and there was one jazzy section that made this feel more akin to the night's next piece than I was expecting. But on the whole I wasn't particularly overwhelmed.
Then again, the reason I was chuffed for this show came from the next selection, John Adams' "City Noir". Introduced by Adams as a sort of theoretical film noir soundtrack, unrestrained by the the needs of a sound cue to give way to dialogue. I don't know if this was pushing the envelope forward, technically speaking, like "Harmonielehre", but it was interesting as hell, and filled with evocative moments — homages to bebop and Ellington brushing shoulders against rushing car-chase tempos and moments of stillness like a foggy night in a desperate harbourtown. By that measure, this was great fun to listen to, and a smashing success, right up to the bombasto ending.
A symphony outsider's musings for future expansion:
- I'm always struck by the dynamic range at the symphony, were there's such shifts of quiet to loud. For someone used to rock shows in clubs, the availability of quiet is profound.
- is there any sound more awesome than an orchestra warming up? I think sometimes that's my favourite part.
- symphony crowds — they sure can clap at great length. Most shows I'm used to, people would already be back at the bar getting a drink while the symphony crowd is still clapping away. I guess when you don't applaud every few minutes it just wells up in folks.
The New Creations Festival wraps up with one last show, this Thursday, March 10.
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