ARTS NET, Tampa Bay*

What do Ives, Bartok, and Dvorak have in common (aside from the fact that they all three walked the earth at the same time)?  The only thread that I can think of is that, boiled-down to their essence, they all lead to Philip Glass.  Charles Ives and Bela Bartok were unofficially members of the musical impressionism movement, while the musical genre of Antonin Dvorak, which could almost be described as a modernism-classical hybrid, differed significantly.  It was interesting to hear them thrown together into the same program.

Whereas I normally attend the Friday night performance at the Straz Center for the Performing Arts in Tampa (formerly the Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center), I elected to attend the Saturday performance at the Mahaffey Theater in St. Petersburg.  I love the Mahaffey, and it’s closer to my home, so I thought I’d forego the opportunity to promote the Orchestra’s weekend program with preference to my own convenience… just this once.

The evening began with Charles Ives’ “The Unanswered Question.”  Having drawn the connection between Glass and Ives, I cannot resist but chuckle about a snippet from a PBS promo I saw a few months ago, where someone (forgive my not remembering who it was), described Philip Glass’ music as, “Knock-knock…  Who’s there?  Knock-knock…  Who’s there?  Philip Glass.”  Hearing Ives’ “The Unanswered Question,” it is easy to hear the influence Ives had on Glass.  (Perhaps the unanswered question is the one that Philip Glass has spent his musical career trying to answer via an ongoing knock-knock joke.)  Actually, I’m somewhat of a Philip Glass fan, a Philip Glass fan, a Philip Glass fan, a Philip Glass fan.  (I always thought the vinyl LP I had was skipping but apparently it’s what Glass intended).

I’ll now turn off the fan and return to the subject:  Ives “The Unanswered Question.”  I absolutely love the insightful “program notes” description provided by Richard E. Rodda (which can be found here).  The onstage configuration of the orchestra was significantly changed for the Ives piece, situating the four flutes at the front of the stage to the audience’s left in manner described by the woman sitting next to me as a “discussion group.”  The violins were left standing at the back of the stage behind them.  Violas and cellos were also physically rearranged, and the effect was appropriate to the music.  The orchestra handled the piece masterfully, and the flute section, central to the piece, was impressive as always.  Brief but excellent, the piece was over as soon as it got underway.  Ok, so Glass did not adopt Ives’ pension for brevity.  Why am I talking about Philip Glass again?  A knock at the door… is it Glass?  No, the door is made of wood… but the window is made of glass… you know, the window into the soul, which is the essence of the Ives piece.  Confused now?  Sorry.

The quiet of the Ives piece was constantly interrupted by rude coughs and other bodily noises coming from the audience.  Why do people choose the opportunity of a quiet passage or a quiet orchestral piece to expectorate phlegm or release flatulence or sniff or drop the anvil they’re holding in their lap?  PLEASE:  If you must cough-up a lung or drop your metal hairpiece on the floor, do it during the LOUDEST musical passage where others in the audience are less likely to be disturbed by it!  If you cannot keep from coughing or farting or making other bodily sounds for the duration of a musical concert, STAY HOME.  SHEESH!

Sorry, too much coffee this morning.

Anyway, the next piece of music on the program was Bela Bartok’s “Music for Strings, Percussion, and Celesta.”  The orchestra quickly reorganized themselves into a slightly more traditional arrangement, then commenced to play with such depth and insight that you could almost feel that you were having a conversation with Bartok himself.   Errors tend to stand out, even in impressionistic music, and errors were evident here.  They were largely insignificant yet their sheer number was out of character for a professional orchestra, especially for a piece that is not particularly technically challenging.  I noticed that a few of these errors coincided with conductor Sanderling’s enthusiastic page-turns during passages requiring accurate synchronization of the various orchestral parts.  Respectfully, I suggest that Mr. Sanderling could have benefited from a page-turner for this piece.

Prior to the intermission, the audience was told that the next item in the program, Dvorak’s Symphony Number 9 in E minor, “From The New World” (a.k.a. Dvorak’s New World Symphony) would be recorded.  The intermission was scheduled to be longer than normal, so I elected to have a vodka; a Ketel-One citroen on the rocks.  The bartender poured me an impressive portion, which I finished just as they called five minutes.  The quantity of vodka was sufficient to cause me to explain to someone that a celesta was a plucked keyboard instrument.  (Fortunately, a moment of thought and embarrassment allowed me to recant that and properly describe the instrument, possibly regaining a modicum of credibility in the process.)

Stefan Sanderling politely and eloquently asked the audience to hold their bodily noises for the duration of the piece so that the recording would be clear.  Of course, immediately upon the piece beginning, a woman in the middle of the orchestra section broke out in a plague cough, and I believe she may have simultaneously passed gas as well… really!  The audience tried unsuccessfully to contain a chuckle or two, and everyone began shifting in their seats like kindergarten students, so conductor Sanderling STOPPED the orchestra!  HE STOPPED THEM!  A Mulligan! The audience muttered amongst themselves, again like kindergarten students after the teacher said she would not restart the music until everyone calmed down, then the orchestra restarted from the beginning. 

Something I’ve learned about our Florida Orchestra:  They do not recover well from errors.  Once an error is made, it seems as though confidence is lost and more errors follow.  I believe that this was the case with the Mulligan called by Sanderling.

Despite evidence that the orchestra was well-rehearsed and confident, the brass section commenced their now-infamous blunders and timing errors.  I believe this likely ruined their recording effort, and the entire orchestra seemed to deteriorate after the errors.  Sad.  I actually felt bad for the orchestra, in the same way that one feels bad for the home team when they lose a game.  Some young students seated near me muttered, “Those were some major mistakes.”  Ouch. 

Although I will not be able to attend the Sunday performance at Carol Morsani Hall in Clearwater, I wish I could do so to provide the home team a chance to redeem themselves. 

Is that a knock I hear, or is it Glass breaking?

The 2009-2010 season ends in May.  Go to http://floridaorchestra.org for program information, and for insight into the 2010-2011 season.