Alan Gilbert, music director, New York Philharmonic
Let’s remain off-topic today, while I continue to exercise my musical muscles (normally neglected on this art-centric blog).
On Saturday night, I attended the same NY Philharmonic program (on a different day) that NY Times chief music critic Anthony Tommasini rhapsodized about in his recent review. Reading his rave, after getting home from the concert, I felt as if we could not possibly have attended the same event. I also wondered, once again, whether the critic who had lobbied in the Times for Gilbert’s appointment can now listen with unbiased ears and entertain the thought that the new music director has not, so far, lived up to expectations.
I’m a lifelong listener to classical music and a Philharmonic enthusiast since the Leonard Bernstein days. But on Saturday night, occupying my third-row-center subscriber’s seat, I made what, for me, was an extremely rare gesture of disapproval: I withheld applause for what I regarded as the most boring performance of Mozart‘s beloved Symphony No. 40 that I’ve ever heard. Tommasini described Gilbert’s interpretation as “lean, lithe and elegantly shaped.”
This wasn’t the first time I’ve been disappointed by Gilbert’s lackluster renderings of highly familiar classical warhorses since he became the orchestra’s music director last season. In this perfunctory Mozart run-through, the orchestra, which under Gilbert’s baton has largely lost the rich sheen burnished by his predecessor, Lorin Maazel, seemed to be on autopilot. Maazel’s occasional performance stunt was to stop conducting and demonstrate how his well-rehearsed orchestra could play a passage with no onstage help from the maestro. This wry gesture was, in part, an expression of his confidence and pride in the musicians.
But Gilbert’s Mozart found the orchestra on autopilot for the entire piece, in a competent, fast-paced but dull rendition of a work they can (and did) play in their sleep.
In contrast to the much older Maazel’s energetic and precise conducting style, Gilbert swayed to the music and often didn’t bother keeping a beat. He seemed, for the most part, to be responding to the music, rather than leading it. Most conductors move hands and batons slightly ahead of the music, to cue the musicians; Gilbert’s gestures often accompanied the music.
The next piece, Mahler‘s “Kindertotenlieder,” was magnificent, thanks to the profoundly moving and vocally lustrous performance of baritone Thomas Hampson, a Metropolitan Opera stalwart who acted the part of mourning father in an affecting, operatic manner, rather than the often less overtly dramatic delivery of song recitalists. Tommasini, while praising this performance, called Hampson’s voice “sometimes…gravelly.” I can’t speak for the condition of his vocal equipment on Thursday, but gravel was completely absent on Saturday. After slightly constrained delivery in the first song, the voice opened up gloriously.
Tommasini rightly praises Gilbert for bringing more contemporary works into the orchestra’s repertoire. I found Thomas Adès‘ 2008 “In Seven Days,” with the composer at the piano, intriguing and worth a second hearing. But in an unfortunate turn of events for anyone—especially frustrating for an art and architecture writer like me—the view of Tal Rosner‘s accompanying video, featuring abstracted images of LA’s Frank Gehry-designed Disney Concert Hall and London’s Royal Festival Center, was almost totally obscured by the grand piano for audience members, like me, who were seated front-and-center, below the level of the stage.
The video screen, instead of being installed on the wall behind the orchestra, should have been hung from the ceiling, above the musicians, which would have caused some craning of necks but no obstructed views.
There’s no more Gilbert in my concert series this year. Coming up (and eagerly anticipated) are Esa-Pekka Salonen and Michael Tilson Thomas.
Fear not, art-lings. Now that I’ve gotten that out of my system, I’ll be getting back to my usual (non-baton) beat!