What little buzz I heard last Friday night up in the Grand Tier after the Nights With Scheherazade concert affirmed two things. Christopher Warren-Green, the seventh of eight contenders for Charlotte Symphony Orchestra’s musical directorship, has prodigious conductor’s hair. For all his hyphenated British suavity, however, W-G’s musicianship didn’t evoke nearly the same awe. The musical kudos I was overhearing went to the CSO principals who had just soloed in Rimsky-Korsakov’s Arabian Nights warhorse.
Pitted against a mighty six-man brass section in Rimsky’s orchestration of Mussorgsky’s Night on Bald Mountain, the undermanned violins sounded underpowered. Nor were they, the winds, or the percussion sufficiently roused to vividly sketch their part of the witches’ Sabbath turmoil on St. John’s Night. Strings lacked urgency; winds and percussion never quite snapped with Satanic fury.
The quiet after the hellish revels was another matter, triggered by a percussionist Warren-Green had deployed offstage at Belk Theater to toll the distant church bell — and dispel the diablerie. Here the strings sounded serene and dazed against the trumpets. Principal clarinetist Eugene Kavadlo and flutist Elizabeth Landon chimed in with sweet solos in the concluding morning mist.
A mass exodus ensued as Warren-Green trimmed his forces to chamber orchestra size for Haydn’s Cello Concerto #2. To the eyes of many CSO subscribers, who know little of the Moscow Soloists and don’t wish to, such a sparse stage must seem like sacrilege. Well, I’ve reviewed the Soloists’ last two CDs for American Record Guide, and even I was a little shocked by the W-G purge. Principal cellist Alan Black was the cello section for the Haydn — pretty radical when you consider that the Muscovites have three cellists among their 17 members.
So there were times when Black appeared to be playing duets with guest soloist Julie Albers in her Charlotte debut. If the intimate scale of the accompaniment was supposed to put Albers at her ease, the mumbo-jumbo didn’t work. Even with the opening Allegro moderato slowed to a comfy andante pace, Albers’ tone sounded scratchy and her virtuosic passages sloppy, lacking all the graces of Jacqueline du PrÈ’s benchmark recording.
Halfway through the long opening movement, Albers began to collect herself. First her wayward tone congealed into molten gold even while confidence remained slightly wobbly in her climactic cadenzas. The ensuing Adagio revealed Albers at the peak of her powers, a lovely liquid vibrato shaping her alluring golden sound. The jaunty Rondo was an impressively dexterous display, paling only slightly when measured against du PrÈ’s nimble panache.
Even a mediocre Scheherazade can work its crowdpleasing magic, and the brilliance of CSO’s soloists conveniently veiled the truth that Warren-Green brought little to the banquet. As the sinuous, sensuous, hypnotic voice of the titular seductress, concertmaster Calin Lupanu surpassed himself, spinning out exquisite pianissimos that could indeed conquer a king.
Plenty more delights came forth in the opening “Sea and Sinbad’s Ship” from other principals, including Kavadlo’s clarinet, Black’s cello, Landon’s flute, and Hollis Ulaky’s oboe. In “The Story of the Kalendar Prince,” bassoonist Mary Beth Griglak and French hornist Frank Portone acquitted themselves with equal distinction.
When Warren-Green guided the ensemble, the magical tended to revert to the routine. As with the flaccid Bald Mountain, the majestic peaks of “The Sea” didn’t lap up to the throne of God. They barely surged above sea-level. Only when we came to the vernal romance of “The Young Prince and the Young Princess” did we and W-G nestle into the Brit’s slow-tempo comfort zone. Here the music was finally sculpted with nuance and driven with purpose. Kavadlo had a couple of lovely solos before Landon and second flutist Amy Whitehead piped in.
Color and cohesiveness were abruptly discarded as Warren-Green turned up the volume for the finale. There was nothing special about the “Festival at Baghdad” — except the individual contributions of Lupanu, Landon, and Whitehead — until we cut to the reprise of “The Sea.” That climactic transition offered up one last glimmer of orchestral sparkle. Afterwards, there was tenderness and sublimity as we heard Lupanu’s violin one last time, partnered with Bette Roth’s ethereal harp.
Lupanu was the only soloist who was given an individual bow, proving that Warren-Green was still at sea.
This article appears in Jan 13-20, 2009.
