French music: Three concerts

The week of the French

TOM PURDOM

I’ve seen several conductors lead their orchestras from the harpsichord or the piano, Baroque-style. Daniel Spalding trumped them all when he announced he was going to resurrect his youthful training and conduct the Philadelphia Virtuosi Chamber Orchestra from the snare drum.

Spalding’s stunt worked because the piece in question was Ravel’s Bolero, in which the snare drum taps away through the entire score. His tour de force contributed some useful charm to one of the more over-familiar works in the repertoire. Seated in front of his orchestra, his back to his young musicians, Spalding looked like he was leading a village band through one of its local dance numbers.

The other highlight of the Virtuosi’s all-French program was a group of six songs from the Auvergne by a composer from the first half of the 20th Century, Marie-Joseph Canteloube de Malaret. Soprano Leslie Johnson sings with Lyric Fest and the Philadelphia Singers, but she’s still a newish face in Philadelphia. This was the first time I’d heard her execute an extended assignment.

Most classically trained singers can wow you with big soaring numbers, and the first two songs proved Johnson is no exception. The other four showed that she can also do a winning job with head-shaking flirtations, dreamy melodies, comic bits and other important aspects of the art song repertoire.

The other items on the Virtuosi program were Ravel’s Mother Goose Suite and a suite by Debussy. Both received solid performances but could have used more of the lightness David Hayes brought to Maurice Durufle’s 20th Century Requiem, which ended the Philadelphia Singers’ first outing of the season. The Durufle combines Gregorian melodies with that wonderful airiness that French composers can create with their orchestrations, and Hayes conducted with his customary rapport for French music and modern music.

Singers’ big find: Rothko Chapel

The Singers program wasn’t devoted to French music, but its title— “Colors and Textures”— acknowledged the affinity. French composers have always emphasized color and scene painting, and the two American entries that completed the program belonged to that tradition.

Andrea Clearfield’s The River of God wasn’t as stunning as the Clearfield piece for violin and orchestra that Orchestra 2001 unveiled last season, but it got the Singers’ evening off to a satisfactory start. The big find on the program was the first Philadelphia performance of Morton Feldman’s 1971 Rothko Chapel, a contemplative piece for viola, percussion, and wordless a capella chorus.

The Rothko Chapel is a contemplative space in Houston that features purple and green panels that are so dark they look almost black. When visitors inspect the panels more closely, however, they see an infinite number of shades. Feldman’s four-part tone poem requires the same kind of close attention. It includes a long opening section for viola, percussion and chorus; a sensuous marimba solo; a choral section that divides the women into 12 parts; a soprano solo written on the day of Igor Stravinsky’s funeral; and a final viola solo, based on a Jewish melody, that Feldman wrote when he was 15.

You wouldn’t want to spend your life listening to this kind of subdued, carefully detailed music. But it’s a beautiful piece if you let yourself settle into the right mood. And when we assess the current state of our city, let us note that the soloists for this occasion were Roberto Diaz and Philadelphia Orchestra percussionist Don Liuzzi. How many American cities, outside of New York, could team a fully professional chorus with a violist and percussionist of that stature?

In his program notes, David Hayes noted that the Singers have been “re-envisioning” themselves and have “come through the process with a strong commitment to the presentation and creation of American choral music.” Rothko Chapel was a perfect choice for the beginning of the new era.

Schoenberg in the 18th Century?

As it happened, the Tempesta di Mare Baroque orchestra also chose to mount a French program for its season opener.

Tempesta’s specialty is music for a full-size period instrument orchestra, with a complete complement of winds and strings. The group fielded 21 musicians for this event— a modest band to you or me, but a considerable force by Baroque standards— and their finale couldn’t have been performed with a smaller staff.

Les Elements is an 18th-Century symphonie by Jean-Fery Rebel that depicts the four elements— air, earth, fire, and water— emerging from chaos. Rebel’s chemistry may be outdated, but his musical techniques frequently sounded like they originated in the age of the Big Bang.

In Rebel’s opening bar, the whole orchestra sounds nine different notes simultaneously, without any attempt at harmony. The effect sounded eerily modern— as if Arnold Schoenberg had slipped through a time warp and penned a score for wooden flutes, short-necked violins, and other 18th-Century instruments.

The Schoenberg imitation was followed by a muscular outburst that sounded like the stuff Beethoven would write in the next century. The four elements then made their entrance with poetic style. Air, for example, enters with a single note in the flutes that develops into a full melody for the wind section. The elements gradually reach their full stature and finish with an almost celebratory union.

The Tempesta program included a Louis XIV suite by Marin Marais and a violin concerto, ably played by Tempesta’s impressive concertmaster, Emlyn Ngai. But Les Elements was the pièce de résistance. It was a prime example of the kind of experience Tempesta di Mare is adding to our region’s musical life.

Scheduling conflicts forced me to venture into the suburbs and make my first visit to Tempesta di Mare’s suburban venue, the Trinity Episcopal Church in Swarthmore. If you’re a carless city-dweller like me, you might like to know that the church is only two blocks from the Swarthmore train station. I can even report that Swarthmore’s transportation infrastructure includes pedestrian amenities such as sidewalks and traffic lights.