Stay in the Loop
BSR publishes on a weekly schedule, with an email newsletter every Wednesday and Thursday morning. There’s no paywall, and subscribing is always free.
Orchestra's "Eirene' and "Carmina Burana"
Tom Purdom
When war trumpets play swing music
TOM PURDOM
When composers build pieces around non-musical subjects, they usually produce passages that play on our standard expectations. Agitated strings portray a storm. Cheerful horn calls celebrate spring.
Sometimes, however, they come up with music that examines the subject from a less conventional viewpoint. The last movement of Henri Tomasi’s Fanfares Liturgiques, which the Chamber Orchestra played at the end of February, was a good example. The movement is supposed to deal with Good Friday, so we would therefore expect it to be somber and dark. Instead, Tomasi created a moving, beautifully modulated brass processional. The advance to the cross became a kingly march to victory—an unexpected way to look at it, but completely valid from a Christian standpoint.
You could hear some of that same quality in the trumpet concerto by Herbert Willi that received its American premiere at the Philadelphia Orchestra’s latest concerts. Willi named his concerto Eirene, after the Greek goddess of peace, and he challenged our expectations right from the start by choosing a solo instrument that’s frequently associated with war.
The concerto has its share of high volume excitement, but Willi assigned that part of the action to the orchestra. The solo part avoids fanfares and exploits other aspects of the trumpet’s personality, such as its ability to float above the musical landscape. At one point, the trumpet even ventures into a swing interlude. Overall, the concerto was an effective reminder that peace is just as dynamic as war— and much more complex.
Singing about a virgin, or about virginity?
The main event on the Orchestra program, Orff’s Carmina Burana, is probably the most popular exercise in irony in the repertoire. The big chorus to Fortune that opens and closes the oratorio sounds as exuberant as the Ode to Joy or the Hallelujah chorus until you read the translation of the Latin and discover the text is an expression of medieval pessimism. The poems Carl Orff attached to his tricky rhythms and medieval chants are the odes of people who died young, lived on the edge of disaster, and felt they were at the mercy of a fortune that tricks you into offering it your “naked back...unarmed.” The lovely soprano aria in the middle sounds like a hymn to the Virgin Mary, but it’s really the song of a girl who’s about to surrender her own virginity.
The three soloists in Carmina Burana were especially good. The Philadelphia Singers are old hands at navigating Orff’s rhythmic patterns, and they were joined by an organization that is building an enthusiastic fan base: the Pennsylvania Girlchoir. In the trumpet concerto, the Orchestra’s principal trumpet, David Bilger, took full advantage of the opportunity to display his control and sensitivity. The trumpet part may have lacked glittering fanfares, but it included long runs of short notes that Bilger stitched together with seamless ease. He also proved he can find a job with a 1950s swing band any time he wants to.
Campestrini’s hat trick
The evening’s big star was the conductor. Christoph Campestrini scored with the first notes of the first item on the program, Wagner’s overture to The Flying Dutchman. He hit the ground running with a fast tempoed attack on the opening horn calls and kept up the quality. Waves thrashed. The wind blew. All the details and interactions stood out. Campestrini’s work with the orchestral sections of the trumpet concerto was just as compelling. And he maintained that high level, without losing an erg of energy and enthusiasm, up to the last notes of Orff’s guaranteed rouser.
I would have been content if I had enjoyed the Carmina Burana and the Willi. Campestrini pulled off a hat trick and produced a concert that stayed alive from beginning to end.
TOM PURDOM
When composers build pieces around non-musical subjects, they usually produce passages that play on our standard expectations. Agitated strings portray a storm. Cheerful horn calls celebrate spring.
Sometimes, however, they come up with music that examines the subject from a less conventional viewpoint. The last movement of Henri Tomasi’s Fanfares Liturgiques, which the Chamber Orchestra played at the end of February, was a good example. The movement is supposed to deal with Good Friday, so we would therefore expect it to be somber and dark. Instead, Tomasi created a moving, beautifully modulated brass processional. The advance to the cross became a kingly march to victory—an unexpected way to look at it, but completely valid from a Christian standpoint.
You could hear some of that same quality in the trumpet concerto by Herbert Willi that received its American premiere at the Philadelphia Orchestra’s latest concerts. Willi named his concerto Eirene, after the Greek goddess of peace, and he challenged our expectations right from the start by choosing a solo instrument that’s frequently associated with war.
The concerto has its share of high volume excitement, but Willi assigned that part of the action to the orchestra. The solo part avoids fanfares and exploits other aspects of the trumpet’s personality, such as its ability to float above the musical landscape. At one point, the trumpet even ventures into a swing interlude. Overall, the concerto was an effective reminder that peace is just as dynamic as war— and much more complex.
Singing about a virgin, or about virginity?
The main event on the Orchestra program, Orff’s Carmina Burana, is probably the most popular exercise in irony in the repertoire. The big chorus to Fortune that opens and closes the oratorio sounds as exuberant as the Ode to Joy or the Hallelujah chorus until you read the translation of the Latin and discover the text is an expression of medieval pessimism. The poems Carl Orff attached to his tricky rhythms and medieval chants are the odes of people who died young, lived on the edge of disaster, and felt they were at the mercy of a fortune that tricks you into offering it your “naked back...unarmed.” The lovely soprano aria in the middle sounds like a hymn to the Virgin Mary, but it’s really the song of a girl who’s about to surrender her own virginity.
The three soloists in Carmina Burana were especially good. The Philadelphia Singers are old hands at navigating Orff’s rhythmic patterns, and they were joined by an organization that is building an enthusiastic fan base: the Pennsylvania Girlchoir. In the trumpet concerto, the Orchestra’s principal trumpet, David Bilger, took full advantage of the opportunity to display his control and sensitivity. The trumpet part may have lacked glittering fanfares, but it included long runs of short notes that Bilger stitched together with seamless ease. He also proved he can find a job with a 1950s swing band any time he wants to.
Campestrini’s hat trick
The evening’s big star was the conductor. Christoph Campestrini scored with the first notes of the first item on the program, Wagner’s overture to The Flying Dutchman. He hit the ground running with a fast tempoed attack on the opening horn calls and kept up the quality. Waves thrashed. The wind blew. All the details and interactions stood out. Campestrini’s work with the orchestral sections of the trumpet concerto was just as compelling. And he maintained that high level, without losing an erg of energy and enthusiasm, up to the last notes of Orff’s guaranteed rouser.
I would have been content if I had enjoyed the Carmina Burana and the Willi. Campestrini pulled off a hat trick and produced a concert that stayed alive from beginning to end.
Sign up for our newsletter
All of the week's new articles, all in one place. Sign up for the free weekly BSR newsletters, and don't miss a conversation.
