Neither Christof Perick nor any of the candidates to succeed him as Charlotte Symphony Orchestra musical director was on hand last week for the Gershwin, Mozart & Adams concert at the Belk. But with the Panthers out of town and the Bobcats mathematically eliminated from playoff contention, a surprising number of subscribers showed up for the Charlotte premiere of Adams’ Harmonielehre.
Yes, a substantial portion lingered in the Center City past intermission after hearing Mozart’s Piano Concerto #21, the “Elvira Madigan,” surely the prime draw in a program that kicked off with Gershwin’s “Cuban Overture.” There was plenty onstage to see and hear as seven percussionists, 10 brass players, and two harpists were splayed across the upstage. Resident conductor Alan Yamamoto picked up a microphone and, with the assistance of the ensemble, charmingly introduced the Adams.
The charm was somewhat broken in the actual performance. After a flurry of percussion that gives way to a mechanized minimalist drone, Adams writes eloquently for the French horns. But the horns, and indeed the entire wind section, weren’t on their best form for Yamamoto all evening. I found myself cringing whenever the wind ensemble — fortified with an extra piccolo, flute, bass clarinet, and bassoon — came to the fore. There was some nice foreboding string writing and a fine, long build that used the intriguing combo of celesta and piccolo as a springboard.
Homonielehre mercifully belied its abstract title (“Theory of Harmony”) in Parts II and III. Contrabasses initiated a more somber mood — at a more lugubrious tempo — in the “Anfortas Wound” section, followed by a soulful solo from principal trumpeter Lyle Steelman. Adams executed a rad U-turn in mood for the concluding “Meister Eckhardt and Quackie” (the latter a nickname for his daughter) as the mechanized sound, grounded in one of its tempi by celesta and piano, reminded me less of Pittsburgh and more of a toy factory. Lots of happy mallet work from the battery of xylophones and marimbas counterpoised with an arousal of the complete brass section. A flurry of timpani signaled the ultimate dominion of the brass and a rousing finale that left the audience surprisingly enthused after their brush with modernity.
The exploits of Jasminka Stancul at the keyboard in the Mozart threatened to make the Adams anticlimactic, despite the chronic swampiness of the winds in the opening and closing allegros. Perhaps I expected a poetic approach from a woman, in the idiom of Murray Perahia’s recording, hoping we wouldn’t wander into sentimentality. But the soloist strode forth to the Steinway with hair cropped considerably shorter than her ancient headshot, wearing jet black slacks and a fiery silk blouse. It was quickly evident that she would assault the keys with the same butchy-ness.
Well, not that quickly. Stancul’s first entrance doesn’t come till around the two-minute mark of the allegro maestoso, and it offered little of the Viennese grace that Maestro Perick has drilled into the Charlotteans over the years. This was rigorous fingerbusting Mozart in the vein — the open vein — of Alfred Brendel. It was such a breath of fresh air that I ignored the frays that appeared in the enfolding orchestral fabric. Nor was Stancul less than elegant in the middle andante that gives this concerto its cinematic nickname. Still pedaling only lightly, Stancul gave the naÔf melody a silvery ethereality. Only in the closing allegro did I encounter a surplus of rigor, stealing a portion of the festivity from the vivace passages.
This article appears in Nov 24 – Dec 2, 2008.
