Author Archives: Leslie

Kathak Extravaganza! Shambhavi Dandekar’s DARPAN

Guru Shambhavi Dandekar presented DARPAN, in the Mission City Center for the Performing Arts, Santa Clara, CA. Oct. 20. Darpan, in English, means mirror. This is a wise title for the magnificent Kathak performances she choreographs and dances. It allows her students from beginners to professional to look at their progress in their art. It also shows the audience to themselves. Do they feel immersed in the dance and music? Do they lose themselves in the beauty of thought, movement, and music combined? Can they bring themselves closer to that place where one loses self-awareness? The same time their being is engulfed by time and space, time and space disappear. That is how the audience participates in the dance. It can happen if one is ready.

This year is the 10th anniversary of S.I.S.K. the arts center started by Guru Shambhavi: Shambhavi’s International School of Kathak. S.I.S.K. produces a Darpan ever two years. This year’s program was sensational. It was hard to believe but true; it was even on a higher level than the previous one. The program was varied, but all of the selections were performed perfectly. Guru Shambhavi choreographs dances which can be performed with the skills of the dancers. And, they rehearse! This made each dance and dancer successful and beautiful.

Guru Shambhavi Dandekar, in DARPAN concert, October 20, 2024.

Mr. Vineet Mishra was the emcee. He gave brief introductions to each dance. That was very helpful to me as I do not always recognize names of masters of dance and music.

Dancers who had begun their study at the beginning of this year were excellent at their assignment. They danced to pure musical notes that form Indian classical music: SA, RA, GA, MA, PA, DHA, NI. Their dance celebrated melody through their rhythmic footwork, hand movements, and graceful body movement making a design in space. Their study included speed, precision, strength, and endurance. As I quoted that list I remembered a poster that said, “Dance is work.” The audience sees the result but not the effort.

The next level of dancers also shone in their dance, Trivat. The focus shifted from melody to rhythm and from music notes to syllables of the PAKHAWAJ, a drum of classical Indian music. It has a barrel shape, open sides, and thin, leather straps. It was a pure, technical dance; the dancers more than met their challenge. It was presented as an Ode to Nritta, pure dance movement and footwork. The dancers showed incredible footwork and fine stage presence.

Nritya Keli was a dance of nostalgia inspired by movements of childhood play. It was a charming dance that suggested happy, playful times. It took the audience away from the technological world to the fun and beauty of being outdoors with friends, a rope, and maybe a ball, too.

HORI is a dramatic and moving solo dance for Guru Shambhavi Dandekar. This was its premiere performance. A young woman has lost her sight. Her sweetheart comes on the day of Hori. He tells her that this year, the holiday will be special for them; they are alone together. Despite her disability, she has a strong spirit. He has brought her a plate covered with many colors. Gently, he describes the colors as he paints them onto her face.

They celebrate Holi, the festive holiday of colors and the spiritual treasure of playfulness. Hori is a genre of semi-classical singing, especially sung during Holi. The songs of Hori/Dhamar are related to Radha-Krishna Leela. Krishna’s Leelas are Divine Play. I read that Karma is for the self, but Leela benefits the whole world.

When it is the young woman’s turn to paint colors onto his face, she chooses the most powerful color, love. It means that love is not seen but felt in the heart.

Guru Shambhavi revealed her acting abilities in Hori. In fact, she did not seem to be acting at all. She lived in the character and became the other person: her challenges, spirit, and love. I still see her turning around to sit in a chair. She reaches out with her arm to give a gift. Her smile out shined the stage lights. I did not know the story, but suddenly knew my eyes were full of tears, and I felt happy.

In her DARPAN productions, Guru Shambhavi finds ways to present both the traditional dance movements and contemporary art. To open the second half of the program, she presented GURU, a music video. It pays homage to the Guru-Shishya Parampara, the ongoing flow of knowledge from the Guru to the student. The setting was a beach with the ocean just yards away

Guru Shambhavi salutes her Guru- her mother

And honors Guru Maneesha ji with gifts and gratitude.

A woman, played by Guru Shambhavi, is practicing her arm movements. She cannot get it right. As she become more frustrated, she feels the movements get worse. She falls to the sand. Another woman, played by Guru Maneesha ji, Guru Shambhavi’s mother and guru, walks in the sand to encourage the dancer. The dancer works to get the movements precise; the Guru is helpful but strict. When the dancer is moving well, the Guru walks away. The dancer continues moving, sees another dancer having the same problems, and becomes the guru for that next dancer. This was a wonderful way to experience the Guru relationship. The director is Ashay Javdekar, also Unni and Priyanka.

S.I.S.K. has an innovative training program, Global Distance Learning for adult beginners. It began in 2021 and now has 200 students in 12 countries. Using a split screen on the back and live dancers performing on stage in their dance, Rhythm Scape, executed footwork, body movements, and formations in a surprising, delightful multi-dimension dance

Barkha, is a dance celebrating the monsoon; “the longing of the earth to unite with the sky. Peacocks “dance in bliss,” unfurling their feathers. It is set in a cycle of 12 beats. A beautiful concept and the dance fulfilled it.

Mrignayan is a dance to project the sweetness of romance, as demonstrated by Radha and Krishna. In this dance, Krishna is called Rasiya, and Radha is the protagonist. Mrignayani means “the doe eyed beauty,” referring to Radha. The accompanying composition is from the medieval saint Purushottamdas. The dance incorporates North Indian folk dance. All aspects of the dance honor the love of Radha and Krishana

The grand finale was Taalmala. It offers the essence of Indian music and means “a garland of Taal –s.” Taal is rhythm. The choreography is also an expression of higher math. The rhythms are cyclical and accent the first beat of each rhythm which is called SAM.

Taalmala is a waterfall of rhythms. It has great energy but never breaks away from the restraints of each beat pattern. There are 6 distinct Taal –s, and each has its own number of beats. Of course, it is not enough to tap or clap or nod the beats, the performers must keep dancing and making designs in space. I particularly admire Guru Shambhavi’s ability to have her dancers use all of the stage. It makes the dances alive in three – maybe four – dimensions. Watching this dance is exciting, especially if one tries to keep the counts! Here are the rhythms: Tritaal – 16 beats; Jhaptaal – 10 beats; Dhamaar – 14 beats; Chautaal – 12 beats; Roopak – 7 beats; Ashtamangal – 11 beats.

All dancers are on the stage, keeping their rhythms, working their feet and bodies, looking fabulous, and then, they make a V shaped form on the stage floor with their Guru Shambhavi standing at the up stage point of the V with her arms up in parallel. This program was a magnificent work of art. We must wait two years for the next Darpan. The line forms now.

All photos by Yamini Mitter.

ALL MOZART ALL THE TIME

November 23, Davies Symphony Hall:  The audience had the honor and pleasure to hear a concert of Mozart’s work. Several of the pieces were new to us. The excitement of discovery matched the beauty of the music.  Bernard Labadie conducted. He is internationally recognized as a master of Mozart, Baroque, and Classical music. Lucy Crowe, soprano, sang four of the seven selections. Her voice is pure, clear as glass, expressing delicacy, loving, and power. This program was her debut with the SF Symphony.

Bernard Labadie, conductor          Lucy Crowe, soprano

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, composer (1756 -1791)

The Overture to La clemenza di Tito, K.621 was composed in 1791, Mozart’s last year. it was a good year for his music. There was a celebration of Leopold II. They needed to commission a new opera. The likely contenders were Antonio Salieri and Domenico Cimarosa. Fortunately for Mozart and his audience, including us, those other composers did not have the time. Mozart was ready and created La clemenza di Tito/ The Clemency of Titus. It was successful enough at its premiere in Prague, but over a month it became a great hit. The premiere of The Magic Flute/Die Zauberflote was premiered in Vienna. He wrote to his wife:

“It’s the strangest thing, but the same evening that my new opera was given here for the first time with such applause, Tito had its final performance in Prague, also with extraordinary applause.”

Two months and a week later, Mozart was gone.

Rondo, Al desio di chi t’adora, K. 577    The aria was composed in 1789. In this era, the music of an opera could make changes or add on extra arias, especially to please a singer. In Le Nozze di Figaro/The Marriage of Figaro, in 1786 Vienna, Susanna was performed by Mozart’s friend, Nancy Storace. He appreciated her comic presence on stage and wrote specifically for her voice and character. In 1789, The Marriage of Figaro was produced again in Vienna, but with a new Susanna. She was the mistress of Da Ponte, the lyricist. She wanted her role to be equal to that of the Countess Almaviva. This aria replaced two others from the original score. Susanna shows her virtuoso singing. The scene is outside. The music reflects the breeze and birds. This aria was our introduction to Lucy Crowe. She was splendid: At the wish of one who adores you, /Come, fly hither, my hope!/ I shall die if you make me sigh/in  vain any longer.

Ruhe sanft, mein holdes Leben, From Zaide, K. 344   This aria has lyrics that are unusual and beautiful. Which is the “best” aria? Impossible to decide. Crowe was absolutely on top of the challenging music. Her voice was on a journey making lovely sounds going up and down and stopping to repeat a sound especially pleasing but difficult to make. The lyric is something different.  Rest gently, my dear life,/sleep until your joy awakes./Here, I give you my portrait./See how it smiles at you./ Sweet dreams, rock him to sleep,/and finally grant his wish,/so that his desire/will become reality.

Masonic Funeral Music, K.477   Composed in 1785, it was originally written for the ceremony of two Masons being promoted to a higher level of the hierarchy and of their studies. Soon, two Masons died. Mozart changed the title of the work from Meistermusik to Maurerische Trauermusik/Masonic Funeral Musik. It is stately and sad as funeral music would be. Mozart changes the instruments for this piece. He adds 3 basset horns to the 2 oboes, clarinet, contrabasson, 2 horns and strings.  Mozart was a Mason going to meetings twice a week. He became a Master Mason; Masonic symbols and experiences show up in The Magic Flute.

“Schon lacht der holde Fruhling,” K.580     This aria was never performed as planned. It was to be in a German version of Giovanni Paisiello’s opera, Il barbiere di Siviglia/ The Barber of Seville. It was tremendously popular at that time, but Rossini’s version took over in 1816. The production never happened, but Mozart had composed an aria that would have been added in order to give Josepha Hofer, Mozart’s sister-in-law neé Weber, something special. Mozart knew her vocal skills for extremely high tessitura. The song may not have been inserted into the German Barber of Seville, but Josepha’s voice was perfect for the Queen of the Night in The Magic Flute. The aria became an orphan until other composers completed it. No basset horns in this one, but it was a Mozart aria sung by Ms Crowe. It was lovely, a lost treasure found. “I sit here and weep,/ alone on the field,/ not for my lost little sheep/but only for the shepherd Lindor.”

“Venga la morte…Non temer, amato bene,” K.490     This aria adds a solo violin accompanying and playing with the orchestra and the soprano. A special treat: SF Symphony’s Concertmaster, Alexander Barantschik, was the soloist. The aria was written to be inserted into Mozart’s opera, Idomeneo. Its premiere was in Munich. After only a short run for the opera, Mozart returned to Vienna. While there, he was fired from his job in Salzburg. His boss, Archbishop-Prince Colloredo and Mozart did not get along; Mozart stayed in Vienna. The son of Idomeneo, Idamante, has a predicatment. He cannot marry the woman he loves; he decides death would be better. This is opera. It is not real. Repeat. This is opera. It is not real. The music was ravishing. It is Mozart’s opera, after all.

This amazing program ended with Symphony No. 39 in E-flat major, K. 543. His last three Symphonies, No. 39, No. 40 ( Great G minor), No. 41 (Jupiter) were all written in nine weeks. The 40th and 41st have been more popular than No. 39. Benjamin Pesetsky suggests that might be because it does not have a catchy name. It is still Mozart’s work. The Symphony projects conflicts between a pleasing 3/4 time and a powerful response. In the Andante, once again there are two messages presenting a love and maybe an end of love. Even in the Finale which features some of Mozart’s wonderfully playful sounds, one might consider if there is a warning in the end of the music. It has mystery; Mozart certainly is allowed to put forth a mystery which we cannot solve.

 

 

 

 

MARVELOUS MUSIC: Dai Fujikura, Ravel & Grimaud, Faure’s Requiem

November 16th at Davies Symphony Hall we heard majestic music performed by the San Francisco Symphony; the totally amazing pianist, Helene Grimaud; the SF Symphony Chorus with soloists Liv Redpath, soprano, and Michael Sumuel, bass-baritone.

Liv Redpath, Soprano soloist

Entwine    Dai Fujikura was asked to create a five minute piece for orchestra.  The theme was the current world situation: the Covid pandemic. While considering what the pandemic did to ordinary lives: isolation, fear of getting it from someone, avoiding crowds – what struck him first was “touch.” Do not touch was pressed forward from childhood to adult minds. Fujikura, one of the foremost contemporary Japanese composers, presented a fascinating piece. One of its characteristics is the music being passed along from instrument to instrument. Powerful, repetitive sounds from the strings are also highlighted by light harmonics sometimes flickering in and out beyond our constant hearing. The human touch was what we needed and could not have. Fujikura gave us an original approach to sound.

Maurice Ravel, composer (1875 – 1937)

Piano Concerto in G Major   Ravel was into jazz. He managed to stretch sounds and rhythms into completely new and always exciting music. If you have not heard this Concerto, look for it and be there. It is inventive and alluring and will wake up your head, even if you did not know that you were sleeping. Ravel toured in the USA in 1928. He heard American jazz, met Gershwin – he asked to study with Ravel but Ravel said no – and came home to France. He worked on this Concerto from 1929-1931. He was writing Concerto in D Major for left hand at the same time. The extraordinary Helene Grimaud played the Concerto like it had been written for her.

Helene Grimaud

She managed the ins and outs of the music which skids along from crazy wild music speeding away with it to the second movement, Adagio essai, which becomes slow and quiet. Grimaud was fantastic in the Adagio. The notes seemed to be separated farther than normal but they never went away. The left hand has a waltz to play continually. Then the orchestra re-enters,  and high spirits and exuberance take over. There are unusual breaks and emphasis on unexpected notes. It is a very special Concerto composed by a unique composer and played by a very special pianist. Let the music jump! Glory time.

Gabriel Fauré, composer (1845-1924)

Requiem, Opus 48     Gabriel Fauré was the choirmaster at La Madeleine Church in Paris beginning in 1877 and then became organiste  titulaire serving in that esteemed position for nine years. His Requiem, the Mass for the Dead, was performed first at La Madeleine. Despite his excellent and long service, he did not like the music which was allowed for churches. He began work on a Requiem soon after his father’s death. He added work to it for two years without ever saying that it was for his father. In a strange coincidence, his mother passed away only two weeks before the Requiem’s debut. He loved his parents and felt the losses. Still, he was not enthusiastic about the orthodox Catholicism. In 1902, Fauré said,

“Perhaps instinctively I sought to break loose from conventions. I’ve been accompanying burial services at the organ for so long now!  I’ve had it up to here with all that. I wanted to do something else.”*

And he did. By editing the “normal” Requiem verses, leaving out the most terrorizing words of damnation, his Requiem reached out to suffering loved ones as well as to the one who had passed away.

“People have said my Requiem did not express the terror of death; someone called it a ‘lullaby of death.’ But that’s the way I perceive death: as a happy release, an aspiration to the happiness of beyond rather than a grievous passage.”*

The San Francisco Symphony Chorus and the soloists were superb. The sopranos lift the spirit singing on C for two measures. The tenors, as described by Ron Gallman, “unfurl a long melody, chant-like in its purity and simplicity.”* The baritone soloist in the Offertorium projects a glowing, mellow sound that floats over the orchestra. The soprano solo shines in the Pie Jesu. She is calm and hopeful for the lost beloved.

Michael Sumuel, Bass-Baritone

Although Fauré left some of the texts out, it was still useful for Catholic funerals. He did not include the Dies irae, the Last Judgment. He kept brief, though to the point, passages; from the Offertorium: “free the souls of the dead/from hell’s punishments and the fathomless void” After the Sanctus: Holy, holy, holy Lord God of Hosts./ Heaven and earth are full of your glory./ Hosanna in the highest” he goes to Pie Jesu: “Holy Jesus, Lord,/ give them rest. Give them rest, eternal rest.”

Through the entire Requiem, Fauré  makes light/lux and rest eternal/requiem aeternam  the central message of his beautiful vision. He adds verses from the Libera me/Free me, and, briefly, lines from Dies irae in Libera me. The harsh “day of wrath/ calamity and misery;/that day, that day is momentous/and exceedingly bitter.” contrasts with peace. Fauré returns to peace, stays with peace, gives us music and song of peace.

*Quotations from Fauré, and one from himself, are from Ron Gallman’s program note essay.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Itzhak Perlman & Friends, Nov. 10, 2024

Itzhak Perlman & Friends: It was the Top of musical performance. Itzhak Perlman is the great violinist who is also the Great Human. He clearly loves to make each note, they are always perfect, and loving the music is the same as his love of the audience. The audience feels that in each note that they hear and absorb. If you are Itzhak Perlman, your friends are breath taking artists, too. In this phenomenal performance his friends were two of the world’s greatest pianists, Emanuel Ax and Jean-Ives Thibaudet, and the Juilliard String Quartet. This is a new generation Juilliard String Quartet. Bringing these gifted musicians onto the stage to make music with Perlman expands his repertory possibilities.

Itzhak Perlman, Violinist, humanitarian, mentor, founder of the Perlman Music Program which mentors “gifted young string players.”

The program presented two works from the 18th century: Sonata for Two Violins in E minor, Opus 3, no. 5, by Jean-Marie Leclair, written ca. 1734; and Piano Quartet inE-flat major, K.493, by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, written 1786. A 19th century masterpiece filled the second half of the program: Concert in D major, Opus 21, by Ernest Chausson, written in 1889-91. What is the main thing these three compositions have in common? Each piece is amongst the most difficult of its kind.

Areta Zhulla, Violinist, first violin of the Juilliard String Quartet

Jean-Marie Leclair, composer (1697 – 1764)*

Leclair left his home in Lyon to publish his compositions of violin sonatas. In Lyon, he became a master of the violin, dancing, and lace-making, a thorough artist. In Paris, his violin compositions were praised with one slight problem; they were so hard to play. A writer of Leclair’s time called them “a sort of musical algebra capable of rebuffing the most courageous of musicians.” The duet performance by Areta Zhulla and Itzhak Perlman was dazzling. I especially admired the way the music weaved between each violin. There would be a place where one violin would find a place to enter and play into, with, or around the other one.  !8th century dances had intricate patterns; sometimes it is the music that follows the dance. As a dance master, he would have the music in his body. Now that I know he was a lace-maker, I feel sure that the design of the music and the playing of the violins were tracing movements of the needle and thread in and out to make a challenging, mathematical, beauty. It is there physical to touch in lace, audible and seen in the playing of the music.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, composer (1756 – 1791)*

Emanuel Ax, pianist

Mozart’s Piano Quartet in E-flat major, K. 493 was a stunning marvel. The musicians are perfection, a word I rarely use. I have loved this particular quartet for a long time. I went to Tower Records – I did say a long time ago – in North Beach and read through album covers. I chose a record  (stop laughing) of Mozart’s quartets. When I heard the opening notes of this performance, I felt myself smile all over. The performers were truly perfection: Itzhak Perlman, violin; Molly Carr, viola; Astrid Schween, ‘cello; Emanuel Ax, piano. When Mozart had a publishing deal for three quartets, the publisher paid Mozart not to compose more. In fact, the publisher thought the first piano quartet was not well received. Fortunately for Mozart and all of us, he had finished the second Piano Quartet. It must have been a very good time for Mozart’s composing as this work entered Mozart’s catalogue just after the Marriage of Figaro. Although its brilliance was obvious, this Quartet was too difficult. A writer for a German journal wrote this: “Many another piece keeps some countenance, even when indifferently performed; but, in truth one can hardly bear listening to this product of Mozart’s when it falls into mediocre amateurish hands and is negligently played.” The performance I heard kept me on the edge of the seat. It is lush, sometimes mysterious with changing rhythms, and a fascinating exchange among the players. Is it possible to translate musical talk to spoken English? No, that is why it is music. The final movement features the pianist and first violin. What an experience to hear this from them.

Jean-Ives Thibaudet, Pianist

Ernest Chausson, composer (1855 – 1899)*

Chausson’s  Concert in D major, Opus 21 is powerful and full of wonders. Concert is not a typo; it is a name for chamber music in the late 18th c. I knew his name, may have heard other pieces and may have not. Surely, I had never heard this. It is a gigantic and altogether successful creation performed by Itzhak Perlman, violin; Jean-Ives Thibaudet, piano; and the Juilliard Quartet. The music pays attention to the combinations that are well knit for all six instruments becoming one while each is heard. James M. Keller cites Chausson’s mentoring by Caesar Franck, and yet this work is still Chausson’s. Each of the four movements – Decide, Sicillienne, Grave, and Finale – added drama and character with their strong presence. The Sicillienne is beautiful in its sweeping lyricism. Grave lowers one’s feelings to a mysterious sense of loss. The energetic Finale reminds the listener of the themes of all three that came before. This listener felt her eyes open wide at the sensational Thibaudet playing precisely and powerfully. He was brilliant; Perlman was brilliant. Having both together made me want to jump up and down, but I only stood and applauded like the entire audience kept doing for many curtain calls. Many. I thought I would count, but I gave up. All six of the performers joined in an extraordinary encore and more bows and applause. Someone turned the lights back on, and, reluctantly we got the message that we had to go home.

*These composers share dreadful and inexplicable deaths. I am inserting this here so that it will not be the sad subject at the end of this post. No interpretation of the deaths from me. Jean-Marie Leclair was murdered. He lived in a bad neighborhood. He had been stabbed three times and was found in a pool of blood. It is still an open case in Paris. Three suspects: his gardener found the body; his nephew wanted Leclair to help him become a violinist but Leclair did not; Louise, an ex-wife who inherited his estate and sold off his property. Mozart died of illness; there are more than 100 theories of how he died. Chausson was trying out the new gizmo: a bicycle. He lost control of the bike, ran into a brick wall, cracked his skull. Imagine that each one would have composed more wonderful music; I am grateful for what I heard.

 

EMANUEL AX: A NIGHT TO REMEMBER

The great pianist, Emanuel Ax, performed a great program at San Francisco’s Davies Symphony Hall. The audience was completely packed with music lovers, and Ax has dedicated classical groupies. He certainly made more on October 27. The program contained wonderful music by Beethoven and Schumann, pieces many in the audience thought they knew, and two pieces by Arnold Schoenberg, which Ax helped the audience to know better and enjoy them.

Emanuel Ax, Piano

Ax opened with Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 13 in E-flat major, Opus 27, no. 1, Quasi una fantasia. In his first 11 sonatas, Beethoven presented sonatas which adhere to the Classical form: 3 or 4 movements which are made of exposition, development, and recapitulation. Beethoven broke the form in Sonatas 12, 13, and 14. The Sonatas number 13 and 14 are put together as Opus 27; both were written in 1801. They are different from each other except for the freedom of composition they share. Ax’s approach to Sonata No. 13 was masterful. This Sonata is seldom given great attention because its sibling, The Moonlight Sonata, is bigger, beautiful in different way, and toweringly difficult. No. 13 could be heard as a sonata with breaks between the movements or played with each running through the next, in fantasia style. It is a bright musical experience which I treasure for exactly the way program author James M. Keller describes it: “this is such a willfully eccentric piece that one may reasonably prefer to consider it a single onrushing conception, more fantasy than sonata.” I choreographed this music as a solo dance and felt that in the final movements the dance would need to just keep going up; so I flew before an eccentric, rhythmic, somewhat folkish finale. It is Beethoven’s imaginative fantasy: playful, joyful, shining a serious light on the sonata.

Ludwig van Beethoven, composer ( 1770 – 1827)

The Piano Sonata No. 14 in C-sharp minor, Opus 27, no. 2, Moonlight brought us into another musical world. This sonata begins with nature at dusk. We hear the night fall into the music, the branches sway, the spirits float above a lake. Through decades after Beethoven’s death, writers wrote that the sonata is about night near a lake with moonlight shimmering on the water. It is nearly impossible to shake the 19th century writers’ impression, now in the 21st. It is emotional while the sounds touch on the clarity of moonlight. This sonata also uses the fantasia style for breaks between movements; that style being not to have a break between movements. That happens between the first movement, Adagio sostenuto,  and the second one, Allegretto. Mr. Keller quoted Liszt that the Allegretto is a “flower between two chasms.” There is a normal break before the Presto agitato ending. We are not left Romantically alone by a lake, perhaps feeling just a little glum, aware of the beauty around us, but realizing one can feel the spirits floating around the dark pines only so long. The final movement picks up the rhythms with force. It dances to the quickly rising and falling music as moonlight beams. Emanuel Ax played the delicate, powerful, gorgeous music with perfection. He seems to understand what is in the depths of the music.

Arnold Shoenberg, composer, (1874 – 1951)

Fortunately for the audience, Emanuel Ax spoke to us to explain what happens in the two selections by Schoenberg. The first one, Drei Klavierstucke, Opus 11 (1909), was played between the two Beethoven sonatas. The second opened the second half of the concert. Ax played Sechs kleine Klavierstuck, Opus 19 (1911)  before Schumann’s Fantasy in C major, Opus 17. He advised the audience that one does not need to think these approaches to music require mathematical brilliance. Instead, Schoenberg lets expression, emotion, even the concept of free association into the tightly composed sounds. That changed everything about listening to Schoenberg. In both pieces, I tried to hear the single musical sound and imagine what it was. Both of the pieces were intensely packed with memories, visions, experience. Schoenberg’s thoughts and attitudes were there for us to look at from every direction and begin to understand that sound can be real atoms of life.

Emanuel Ax, 2015

Robert Schumann, composer, (1810 – 1856)

It made me happy to know that Schumann’s Fantasy in C major, Opus 17 was the anchor of the program. It is a big work. Passionate, poetic, inventive music rolls forward and embraces its creator. He is forever the Romantic composer of the Romantic era and the romantic man who was in love with  Clara Wieck. Her father forbid her to see her dear Robert. She was widely recognized as the finest pianist of Europe. Her father sent her off on another tour to Dresden to keep her well known and away from her love. That was 1836. In 1838, he wrote to her about the Fantasy he was writing: “the first movement is the most passionate thing I have ever composed –a deep lament for you.” The next year he wrote, “In order to understand the Fantasie you will have to transport yourself into the unhappy summer of 1836, when I renounced you.” While their married life was a triumph for both of them, I was happy to hear this major work from Schumann because some classical music fans seem to be fascinated by Schumann more for the mysteries of his mental illness than the grand music he made. I think he is being championed by several artists and conductors now. Schumann described two imagined characters in his essays and compositions. Florestan is the more aggressive one, and Eusebius is often off in a dream or aligned with more tranquil music. In this Fantasy, the Florestan rules the first movement and Eusebius is also there for a section named The Sound of a Myth. The poetry of this music is not always dreamy and calm; poetry can be powerful, too. Schumann placed a poem by Friedrich Schlegel at the beginning of this score. “Through all the sounds in earth’s motley dream, one soft note can be heard by him who listens stealthily.” For the pianist, this Fantasy  is an extreme challenge to the best of technicians. Emanuel Ax played it as Schumann would want it to be. It was thrilling.

The audience went crazy for Emanuel Ax. He gave us two encores. After several curtain calls, he played Schubert’s Standchen, a song which Franz Liszt transcribed for the piano. Everyone continued applauding. Ax left again and came back to play Chopin’s Nocturne Opus 27, No. 1. It was beautiful. No one wanted to leave.

 

 

AMERICAN MUSIC AT DAVIES SYMPHONY HALL & Rhapsody in Blue’s 100th Year

October 25 and 26 were spectacular nights of music. Nights of what George Gershwin called “our undiluted national pep.” The San Francisco Symphony’s program included Suite from Candide, by Leonard Bernstein; Rhapsody in Blue, by George Gershwin (orch. Ferde Grofe); Wood Notes, by William Grant Still; and Porgy and Bess, A Symphonic Picture, by George Gershwin (arr. Robert Russell Bennett). Each piece was thrilling and innovative. Each one came out of a different decade: Candide, written in 1956 (arr. Charlie Harmon 1998); Rhapsody in Blue, composed in 1924 (rev. 1926); Wood Notes, composed in 1947; Porgy and Bess, A Symphonic Picture, written in 1935 (arr. 1943).

The pianist for Rhapsody in Blue was Michelle Cann. She is an astounding soloist who gave us all the rhythm, excitement, and gorgeous music possible in this heroic composition.

The conductor was Thomas Wilkins. In addition to being handsome with an elegant presence, he absolutely kept the SF Symphony at their best throughout the concert. It is easy to visualize each composer nodding his head in gratitude for Maestro Wilkins’ loyalty to exactly what each one wanted his music to be. A conductor par excellence: the principal conductor at the Hollywood Bowl, artistic advisor to the Boston Symphony, principal guest conductor of the Virginia Symphony, and the Henry A. Upper Chair of orchestral conducting at Indiana. There is more. He was the director of the Omaha Symphony until 2021. And more. We hope the SFS will bring him back soon.

Leonard Bernstein, composer, (1918 – 1990)

Bernstein must have studied Voltaire’s 18th century book or at least knew what it was about. There was a popular philosophy at that time that this is “the best of all possible worlds.” Candide was a young man who was relentlessly optimistic. His reward was being beat up by a huge flood and mean humans. Since it was an operetta, I have wondered why I had only heard a section of the music on the radio but not a single lyric. The Broadway show was a flop. A major problem was the lyrics. The playwright, Lilian Hellman, was the source of the concept, but it did not work. When it was being written, the McCarthyism of the early 1950s cast a long and scary shadow. Other outstanding authors contributed lyrics for the songs. It died by Hellman’s seriousness. Bernstein thought he would have a comic operetta. After years, one could applaud Bernstein’s optimism and determination. Candide came back to life in 1973 with new librettist and director. Bernstein himself created a concert version of his Candide. The music is 100% Bernstein: touching, satirical, rhythmically complex, with salutes to the international dance styles of Tango and waltz. It has jazz bones and tips its hat to moments of Rossini, Gounod (which I did not hear), and Gilbert and Sullivan. I am eager to hear the whole operetta.

Rhapsody in Blue. A few years ago, Rhapsody in Blue won as the number one most favorite music when SF’s classical music station ran its California play list competition. Oh, there was a lot of complaining: Why not Beethoven’s 5th? Why not Beethoven’s 9th? Why this beloved American music which is still exciting and fascinating? It is now celebrating its 100th anniversary. It is possible that Beethoven’s 5th and 9th supporters duked it out and that led them out of the top. It is also possible that the Rhapsody in Blue will thrill you and move you each time you hear it. In about 7th or 8th grade my friend Michelle and I would sit in my parents’ den and listen to that music. I realized on Oct. 26, that I probably had never heard it live. Definitely be there in person next time there is an opportunity. There is so much life in the music. I waited for that sliding clarinet glissando that gave me a chill down my back at the same time it gave me a feeling that the music was not describing sitting quietly. Gershwin said that while on a train the music came to him. “And there I suddenly heard — and even saw on paper — the complete construction of the Rhapsody, from beginning to end…. I heard it as a sort of musical kaleidoscope of America – of our vast melting pot, of our unduplicated national pep, of our blues, our metropolitan madness.” It is exactly all of that. There is not a moment when one loses interest. I was eager to know what was next, how the music went from one sensation to another. Michelle Cann just owned the Rhapsody. From the moment she appeared at the piano, took hold of her translucent, yellow, floor length cape, and flicked it over her shoulders to let it drape over the piano bench everyone in the full house had glued their eyes on Ms Cann. The dress was great, the playing was powerful and full of the Rhapsody music. The audience would not stop applauding and shouting. Ms Cann rewarded us with an encore: Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in C-sharp minor – that’s how it started – and then she played it in Hazel Scott’s jazz improvisation on that piece. It was dazzling.  Thank you, Georgiana Du, for telling me it was Hazel Scott’s improv.

William Grant Still, composer, (1895 – 1978)

William Grant Still did not take lessons to play a violin until he was 14 years old. He then taught himself the viola, ‘cello, double bass, clarinet, oboe, and saxophone. He attended Wilberforce University, and while there he directed the band. From there he attended the Oberlin Conservatory. He had received a scholarship, but he had to leave for military service in the Navy. After that, he was a sideman for W.C. Handy who took him onward to Memphis and New York. He never wasted time; somehow he also studied with Edgard Varese, the avant garde composer. Wood Notes is thrilling in its own way. It is tranquil but moving. The first movement , Singing River, lets the listener see and feel the river. Slightly, it meanders and the onlooker feels as though part of the river. The music focuses on strings and muted trumpets. Floating and still in motion, this first movement musically lets one know what a river is. The second movement, Autumn Night is a storm, but a gentle storm. There is enough wind to make the tree limbs sway back and forth, but not enough to bother anyone. It is like spending a night outside. There is a breeze and some rain to remind one that there is weather that can be a soothing story. Moon Dusk stars an oboe solo and more strings. The instruments are beautiful in their balance. Balance is an essence in the entire work. It ends with Whippoorwill’s Shoes. Syncopated rhythms and quick changes of the melodies make a surprising scene jump and dance. It is a bit of folk music, but not entirely. William Grant Still gives us a peaceful scene but that does not mean its music is immobile. It touches natural gifts. Still wrote more than 150 works, including 8 operas, and 5 symphonies. He was the first African American to write a symphony that was performed by a major orchestra and first to conduct a major orchestra. This was the first performance of Wood Notes by the SF Symphony. In program notes for Wood Notes’ premiere at the Chicago Symphony with Artur Rodzinski, Still declares his position: “Wood Notes has a social significance because it is a collaboration between a Southern white man and a Southern-born Negro composer, in which both of the participants were enthused over the project.” He dedicated Wood Notes to Friedrich J. Lehmann, his composition professor at Oberlin.

George Gershwin, composer, (1898 – 1937)

The opera, Porgy and Bess, Gershwin described as  an “American folk opera.” It was based on a novel by DuBose Heyward. Heyward became the librettist. Ira Gershwin, the endlessly original lyricist for his brother’s songs, supplied some of the lyrics for this opera. George Gershwin moved to an island off of Charlestown, South Carolina, to write in order to keep the accent of the place. Gershwin and DuBose insisted that all the major roles would be filled by African American actors/singers. The opera opens with “Summertime,” considered to be the most recognizable tune in all of 20th century music theater. The story is about a tragic love between Porgy, a disabled, impoverished, and good hearted man; Bess, an abused woman who was addicted to cocaine; and Crown, a violent dockworker who drops her when he murders a man and decides to run. Bess begs Porgy to protect her, but when Crown returns to take Bess with him, Porgy kills Crown. Then, Bess goes to New York with Sporting Life, a dope dealer. Ever true to his love, Porgy follows them to New York. Five years after George Gershwin’s death, Robert Russell Bennett, a friend and colleague to Gershwin, arranged a medley of Porgy and Bess music for the Pittsburgh Symphony’s conductor, Fritz Reiner. As I listened to the  “Symphonic Picture,” I felt the deep emotion and pain painted by the music. Even the satirical “It Ain’t Necessarily So,” sung by Sporting Life, has a heart full of blues. There are various commentaries about a white composer writing about a community of African Americans. I feel that Gershwin wanted to include not only the actors/singers but their community. The opera Carmen, focused on impoverished women and bullfighters, was written by a Frenchman. Curiously, Gershwin was thrown to the hungry lions on at least two sides. Writers of the ’20s and ’30s called him an ape from the jungles and denigrated his music; to them it was jazz, music from Africa. In addition to the antisemitism targeted at him, the bigots against African Americans added him to their list of hatreds. To them, he was just another low life African American. Gershwin died young, only 39. His music? It will not die.

 

 

 

 

 

“Still Our Own Indian Selves”

On November 8, Dr. Tria Blu Wakpa will share her research findings through her talk: “Still Our Own Indian Selves: The Decolonial Possibilites of Student Theatrical Productions at a Former Indian Boarding School.” This program begins at Noon and ends at 1:00. PACIFIC TIME. The presentation is only on Zoom in order to make it available to everyone regardless of time zone. IF you want to attend, please send a message to livelyfoundation@sbcglobal.net  so that we can send you the Zoom codes. The event is presented by The Lively Foundation. It is FREE. IF YOU ARE ABLE, please consider making a donation of $10 – or any other amount – to support Lively’s programs. The following information is Dr.Tria Blu Wakpa’s Abstract and Biography in full.

Dr. Tria Blu Wakpa, Assist. Professor, UCLA’s Department of World Arts & Cultures/Dance

Abstract:

In this presentation and workshop, I will first share research that examines student performances that occurred at St. Francis Mission School between the 1930s and 1950s and then offer a workshop that incorporates movement and mindfulness practices based on these findings. Founded by Jesuit officials in 1886, St. Francis operated as an Indian boarding school until 1972 on the Rosebud Indian Reservation, located in South Dakota on the lands of the Rosebud Sioux Tribe, who are Sicangu Lakota. I posit that officials invested an immense amount of time and resources into staging these productions, because they fulfilled institutional aims by attempting to assimilate and convert Lakota people while shaping and disseminating discourses related to the purported legitimacy, sanctity, and benevolence of St. Francis and its alleged contributions to Lakota people and futurities. I term these methods settler colonial choreographies. Meanwhile, working within material and structural confines, Lakota people found ways to sustain their practices and identities, navigate settler colonial stereotypes and institutional policies, document their experiences and contributions, and otherwise nurture their wellbeing, freedom, and futurities. I refer to these actions as decolonial choreographies. Ultimately, I show that the productions simultaneously supported the self-determination of St. Francis—and by extension the U.S.—and Lakota people. To conclude the session, I will guide attendees in movement and mindfulness practices that are in conversation with the tactics that Native people used to reinterpret student theatrical performances at St. Francis and support their holistic health.

Bio:

Tria Blu Wakpa is an Assistant Professor in the Department of World Arts and Cultures/Dance at UCLA. She received a Ph.D. from the Department of Ethnic Studies at UC Berkeley. Her research and teaching center community-engaged, decolonizing, and movement analysis methodologies to examine the history and politics of dance and other holistic practices—such as theatrical productions, athletics, and yoga—for Indigenous peoples in and beyond structures and institutions of confinement. She is a mother, scholar, poet, and practitioner of Indigenous dance, Indigenous Hand Talk (sign language), martial arts, and yoga. In addition, she is the Co-Founder and Editor-in-Chief for Race and Yoga, the first peer-reviewed and open-access journal in the emerging field of critical yoga studies. Her first book project, Choreographies in Confinement, contextualizes dance, theatrical productions, basketball, and/or yoga at two sites for Native children on the Rosebud Indian Reservation in South Dakota: a former Indian boarding school and a tribal juvenile hall. Her writings have been translated into French and Portuguese and appeared in academic journals and books. In 2023, Professor Blu Wakpa’s article, “From Buffalo Dance to Tatanka Kcizapi Wakpala, 1894-2020: Indigenous Human and More-than-Human Choreographies of Sovereignty and Survival,” won the American Society for Theatre Research’s Gerald Kahan Scholar’s Prize “for the best essay written and published in English in a refereed scholarly journal or edited collection.” This same year, she was named the Fulbright Association’s Selma Jeanne Cohen Dance Lecture Awardee. She has held major fellowships from the Ford Foundation, the Fulbright Program, the Hellman Fellows Fund, and the UC President’s Postdoctoral Program.

 

Shostakovich & Brahms: Amazing Performance

The San Francisco Symphony performed the Shostakovich Violin Concerto No. 1, in A minor, Opus 77(99) and the Brahms Symphony No. 4 in E minor, Opus 98, October 5, at the Davies Symphony Hall. This listener is still standing to applaud it was such great music performed majestically. Music Director, Esa-Pekka Salonen, conducted with strength and understanding of masterpieces of two great composers

Dmitri Shostakovich, composer (1906 – 1975)
From the very first sound from the violin, my whole being straightened up in attention to the exquisite music made by one draw of bow across instrument. Sayaka Shoji, the soloist, plays the “Recamier” Stradivarius violin, ca. 1729, loaned to her by Ueno Fine Chemicals Industry, Ltd. The violin may have been played by other outstanding musicians, but I believe it had been waiting four centuries for its ideal partner, Ms Shoji. Shostakovich made this concerto a marathon challenge for the violinist. She performs continuously. She must run a rocky path and up a steep mountain, something like climbing Half Dome. There is a small sign requiring the violinist to meditate; she climbs high enough to bring the music to stillness but never to a stop. There are moments she shares with a flute and a clarinet both supporting her pilgrimage. If you love Shostakovich’s music, and I do, this is a profound message. It is alive with the philosophical melody of the first movement, Nocturne. The Scherzo contains the composer’s laughs at a dictator’s cruelty. Folk dance is suggested, but it is not for jolly folk. It is rough and creepy. The third movement, Passacaglia, blossoms into nine variations led by the horns and more wind instruments. Their wind blows through each variation turning into a funeral call. Ms Shoji’s cadenza has a wild sadness and brings more of the folk dance back onto the stage as though the energetic dancers are crazed by loss. From the cadenza the music pours into rousing bagpipe sounds and a non-stop party of all the musicians, folks, and roaming strangers, a revel of jumping, running, and celebrating joy in this moment.

Johannes Brahms, composer, (1833 – 1897)

Brahms. The long wait for him to produce his first symphony is a familiar story. He terrorized himself thinking of Beethoven following him, intimidating his writing. He began making notes and sketches in 1850, but the tremendous, glorious Symphony No. 1 debuted in 1876. His Symphony No. 4 was a triumph and the last of his symphonies. The performance by SF Symphony, October 5, led by Esa-Pekka Salonen, affected the listener’s heart while emotion was spoken by beautiful, quiet, lyrical passages, Allegro non troppo. Behind the first movement, and behind each movement, there is always something that cannot be named: a texture, interactions of instruments, a thought for the world. Brahms was a great intellect as well as a great musician. His writing found ways to allow us to hear the music with all our attention and yet be aware that there is something we will never see. In his writing, he broke some classical ways. In the program’s essay,, the late, wonderful writer Michael Steinberg explains how a seemingly small step changed every thing. “Almost everyone was upset over what appears now one of the most wonderful strokes in the work, the place where Brahms seems to make the conventional, classical repeat of the exposition but changes one chord after eight measures, thereby opening undreamed-of harmonic horizons….” This must be what a master of the technique as well as of the sound can do. “One small step” could change everything. Then, it is like breathing, something also easy, complicated, and brilliant. Brahms mines the Baroque and Renaissance music for something new, inspired by Bach’s Cantata No. 150. He did not try to do “authentic” ancient music; he discovered how he could understand it and then do it but differently. The entire symphony is full of energy even when the music is quiet. Passion drives the music, but it never colors outside the lines. Great and true passion lets us learn many possibilities and unifies the world.

 

 

JASMINE JIMISON: Lovely Person, Fabulous Dancer

Talking with Jasmine Jimison was a treat. I have seen her dance with the San Francisco Ballet in roles in The Nutcracker (Helgi Tomasson: choreographer) and A Midsummer Night’s Dream (George Balanchine: choreographer). Her onstage presence is a delight as she is able to embody roles as different as The Snow Queen and a wandering, love lorn lady lost in an enchanted forest in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Jasmine Jimison: Principal Dancer, San Francisco Ballet

She selected her life’s direction, stuck with it, worked hard, and now has arrived at the top of the top. Ms Jimison told me that she started out as a figure skater and began to study dance to help with her skating. Her skating teacher advised her to add the ballet movements, especially the arms, for her work on the ice. That was when she was “around 10 or 12.” The dancing gradually took over the skating. At 12 years old, she entered the SF Ballet School. She had started taking summer intensive programs at San Francisco Ballet and School of American Ballet, in New York, and others, but she stayed with the SFB school. A native of Palo Alto, she was happy to be near home.

Her family had no other dancers or artists of other kinds, but they were supportive in her training and career. I asked if her family was surprised by her dedication. The answer was no; they were “very supportive

Jasmine Jimison being promoted to Principal Dancer on stage after a performance of Ashton’s Marguerite and Armand // © San Francisco Ballet, photo by Lindsey Rallo

She loved figure skating and was very good at it, but even at the young age of making big decisions, her decision was practical. Jasmine said that figure skating is a short career, skaters stop at 15 or, if lucky, maybe 20. Compared to that, ballet, notorious for the brevity of a dancer’s career, seems like a long, life time career.

Ms Jimison has helpful suggestions for young dancers and not so young dancers. She said that “Everyone has a unique time line for training and dancing. The old rules that a person cannot start to dance seriously after 12 years old are no longer in place. So much depends on the individual’s efforts and the quality of training.” In addition to studying at the SFB, Jasmine studied privately with Kristine Elliot – a beautiful dancer, soloist in the American Ballet Theater. Ms Elliot gave Jasmine significant training. Jasmine feels certain that being in one on one classes with Ms. Elliot gave her a significant boost in learning.

A recent thrill for SF audiences and for Ms Jimison was her role as Odette/Odile in Swan Lake. Jasmine said being cast in the double role is usually set on “veteran” ballerinas with great experience. However, the new Principal Dancer was given the role. Odette, the good princess, was turned into a swan by the evil wizard, Von Rothbart. Odile, the bad “princess,” daughter of Von Rothbart, puts a spell on Prince Siegfried. The Prince had fallen in love with Odette by the romantic Swan Lake. In the picture below, she is Odette.

Jasmine Jimison in Tomasson’s Swan Lake // © San Francisco Ballet, photo by Lindsey Rallo

I asked Jasmine if she preferred one of the parts. She thought that Odette’s personality was closer to hers, it felt more natural, but it is exciting to delve into characteristics that are completely different.

She has appeared in many different roles but she said that Juliet is her favorite, so far. She likes knowing that the audience understands the feelings of the characters. That means that they are with Juliet as she goes through so many challenges. Also, the music is wonderful. It is the “most important in shaping the quality of the movement.”

Jasmine Jimison and Mingxuan Wang in Tomasson’s Nutcracker // © Reneff-Olson Productions

She will not know what ballets or roles she will be in until much closer to the season. She is now learning Grosse Fugue and will learn Clemence in Raymonda. The San Francisco Ballet will go on tour to Madrid, October 1st. Ms Jasmine Jimison, Principal Dancer, is excited about the company’s first international tour with her. I asked her what it is about dance that drew her in to make it the center of her life. She answered that she loves the physical aspect of it, but it also gives her a way of expressing herself and the feelings from the music and characters. She said that these were things she could not express verbally. However, she expressed herself clearly and articulately in our conversation just like the clarity and meaning she puts into her dance.

Photographs compliments of the San Francisco Ballet. 

 

 

 

Mahler Symphony No. 3: A Whole World

June 28, Davies Symphony: The San Francisco Symphony performed Mahler’s Symphony No. 3 in D Minor. It was a stunning presentation. Each movement was full of surprises, emotions, music that inspired our imaginations. San Francisco has been Mahler territory from the beginning of Michael Tilson Thomas’ tenure as Music Director. The Muni had Mahler painted on the sides of buses. MTT brought us great performances. Now, it is Music Director Esa-Pekka Salonen’s time to make the audience marvel at the music and the brilliance of conductor and musicians. This concert was the last of the regular season. It was another great musical experience from the SF Symphony.

Esa-Pekka Salonen, Music Director, San Francisco Symphony.

Before Gustav Mahler began to compose his Symphony No. 3 in D minor, he wrote a scenario in five parts, like sketching the story behind a play. He gave a title to each part. At first, the titles were following this theme: What the Forest Tells Me, What the Trees Tell Me, What Twilight Tells Me, but he changed the titles five times during his summer retreat. He removed the trees, the twilight, and the rest. He switched to Summer entering the symphony, and he wanted to add something Dionysiac, possibly scary. The various images that came to him worked. In less than three weeks he had written the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th movements. When Symphony No. 3 premiered in 1902, none of the titles were on the program. Mahler wrote to conductor, Josef Krug-Waldsee the reason why he removed them.

“Those titles were an attempt on my part to provide non-musicians with something to hold on to and with a signpost for the intellectual, or better, the expressive content of the various movements and for their relationships to each other and to the whole. That didn’t work (as, in fact it could never work) and that it led only to misinterpretations of the most horrendous sort became painfully clear all too quickly.”*

I was glad to read another quotation from Mahler in a conversation with Sibelius about what a symphony is because I have often thought that Mahler’s symphonies encompassed the world. He said, “a symphony must be like the world. It must embrace everything.”* Symphony No. 3 surely demonstrated that.

The first movement is nearly a half hour on its own. That is because Mahler sees so much. The beginning is joyful but a change comes immediately, something sad, more than sad has been released. We hear what might be funeral music, wailing, anger at the undoing of the human. Then, there are marches which are followed by what could be popular music that plays with a gentle hand that turns to enthusiasm. Yes, it is the whole world. Each of us lives all of the turns of experience which Mahler recalls for the listener and for the listener to re-live right now right here whether in a concert hall or hiking past a small town. This first movement, Part I, Kraftig, entschieden (Powerful, determined) is the full first part giving us moments of danger and loss as well. He does not abandon us to loss but reminds us of love.

Part II includes four briefer movements, each with its own identity. The first one is a minuet: Tempo di menuetto. Sher massig (Moderate). Then, the music is placed out doors with a song by Mahler, Ablusung im Sommer. He awaits “Lady Nightingale’s” song once the cuckoo stops. The trumpet becomes a post-horn with a beautiful tune which is carried by the flutes. Arnold Schoenberg observed, “at first with the divided high violins, then, even more beautiful if possible, with the horns.”* The symphony continues to a song by Nietzsche. It is the Midnight Song from also sprach Zarathustra. This song begins by warning humanity. Then, it explains the depth of eternity. “The world is deep–/deeper than the day had thought!/Deep is the pain!/Joy deeper still than heart’s sorrow!/Pain says: Vanish!/ Yet all joy aspires to eternity,/ to deep, deep eternity.” Soloist Kelley O’Connor, mezzo-soprano, sang the first. Her voice fit well with both songs. Her presence communicates authority and, even as a sinner, attracts empathy.

Kelley O’Connor, mezzo-soprano

Next the sopranos and altos of the SF Symphony Chorus plus young boys of the Pacific Boychoir Academy sang the text of The Boy’s Magic Horn (Des Knaben Wunderhorn) with added text by Mahler: “But you mustn’t weep.” The SF Chorus sounded wonderful. O’Connor joined in this song as the sinner. The children made bell sounds and joined the SF Symphony Chorus in “Liebe nur Gott!” Love only God.

Mahler did a daring thing – when did he not do a daring thing? – and ended his symphony with an adagio. The music runs into the terrible, nameless event of the first movement. The interruption of his forward motion leads his music to spiritual directions. The duet of kettle drums was astonishing. The percussionists used drumsticks with large heads of something looking like cotton on the striking end. Side by side the percussionists, each with two drums sticks, struck the drums simultaneously, loudly, and powerfully. Side to side over and over. It created chills, questions, a mystery. The composer instructed the drums should be played “not with brute strength (but) with rich, noble tone” and that “the last measure not be cut off sharply”* in order to produce softness and a silence in the hall and in each listener. Mahler’s No. 3 has the fullness of life. This was Mahler’s world.

*quotations are quoted from the SF Symphony article by Michael Steinberg.