Higdon, Hahn and Curtis (2nd review)

The violin concerto that Jennifer Higdon wrote for Hilary Hahn received its world premiere in 2009, and Hahn has played it with seven orchestras and recorded it with the London Philharmonic. It's even received a Pulitzer Prize. Yet despite all that history, its first performance with the Curtis Orchestra surrounded it with the atmosphere of a premiere. Other orchestras may have played Higdon's concerto first, but Higdon must have had the Curtis Orchestra in mind when she wrote it.

The concerto's first movement bears the title "1726," after the Curtis Institute's address on Locust Street, and the composer's notes explain that the movement features musical intervals, like sevenths and seconds, that match the digits in the address. But as someone who has followed Hahn's career since she entered Curtis as an 11-year-old in 1990, I saw the movement as a touching portrait of the relationship between an awesomely talented musician and the unique institution that offered her a perfect place to nurture her abilities.

The movement begins with Hahn hitting a series of random, slightly squawky notes, like a child experimenting with her first violin. Then a moving, poetic voice begins to emerge. But the voice isn't playing alone. It's framed and supported by the orchestra— the ultimate embodiment of the outpost of civilization located at 1726 Locust.

Lesson learned

When the Philadelphia Orchestra premiered Jennifer Higdon's concerto for the Time for Three trio in 2008, I complained that the piece really wasn't a concerto. The orchestra sat in silence for much of the piece, watching the three principals do their thing. (Read my review here.)

Higdon doesn't make that mistake this time. Now the orchestra is a full partner with the soloist. The concerto is a display piece for the Curtis students, whose work is just as impressive as the work of the star graduate at the front of the stage.

When Hahn engages in a duet with the current concertmaster, she plays some especially tricky stuff, and the concertmaster stays with her and matches her note for note. When she launches into a hyped-up race for the finish in the finale, the whole orchestra sticks with the comet whizzing in front of it.

The rest of the concerto includes memorable orchestral moments like the beautiful cello solo, supported by the bassoon, that opens the second movement.

A "'mature' 11-year-old

Hahn's most noticeable strength, from the moment she first arrived at Curtis, was her uncanny understanding of the pieces she played. I could understand 11-year-old violinists with advanced mechanical skills. But how could someone that young play major works as if she comprehended their mature feelings?

A bright child can memorize "To be or not to be." But how many children can recite it like an adult actor?

Hahn's poetic virtues are so compelling that it's easy to overlook the technical mastery that supports them. Higdon has worked with her since Hahn took Higdon's Curtis class on 20th-Century music, and she probably possesses a better grasp of Hahn's powers than any composer now alive. Higdon's last movement, titled "Fly Forward," is the kind of all-out display of technical mastery that audiences have been cheering since Paganini dominated the concert circuit.

No flamboyant displays

Hilary Hahn underlines the excitement by her absolute control of her instrument. Many violinists engage in flamboyant, jumpy movements when they tackle virtuoso displays. Hahn's left hand flows across the strings. The music she's creating may hop all over the place, but the only sign that she's working at the peak of her abilities is the absolute concentration she focuses on her hands.

Education writers often talk about schools "producing" graduates, as if you dropped indistinguishable youths into an assembly line and scientists and MBAs emerged at the other end. But no school can produce artists like Jennifer Higdon and Hilary Hahn. Curtis became one of the world's leading music schools because it recruits the best people it can locate and gives them a home in which they can develop their talents in the company of people who share their abilities and ambitions.

Great talent can wreck its possessor if it isn't handled with care. I've been impressed with Curtis' policies ever since I first started reviewing. Young talents like Hahn play a few selected dates with major orchestras, as part of their development, but they aren't exploited. They're treated like burgeoning artists with long-term potential— not "prodigies" who are primarily interesting because they're young. Higdon's violin concerto is a celebration of that all-important relationship.♦


To read another review by Robert Zaller, click here.