The Cleveland Orchestra: A New Century—including
works by Beethoven, Varèse, Johannes Maria Staud, Richard Strauss, Bernd
Richard Deutsch, and Prokofiev. Cleveland Orchestra conducted by Franz
Welser-Möst; Paul Jacobs, organ. Cleveland Orchestra. $60 (3 SACDs).
An exceptionally handsome presentation in
which music, the supposed focus, often takes a back seat to design elements and
self-praise, The Cleveland Orchestra: A
New Century consists of a well-designed, photo-packed, 150-page book that
sits in a cardboard tray and, when removed, reveals a neat little flap beneath
which nestle three recordings of live performances from 2017 through 2019. The
whole assemblage fits in an elegantly modern-looking slipcase designed to
complement coffee tables and/or bookshelves rather than listeners’
music-storage spaces.
The point of the whole elaborate façade,
and of the content within it, is to proclaim a new century for the orchestra
(founded in 1918), announce the ensemble’s return to issuing recordings (on its
own, all-new label), and lay to rest (for reasons that are not immediately
apparent) the longstanding association between The Cleveland Orchestra and its
longest-serving conductor, George Szell (1897-1970). Szell led the ensemble
from 1946 until his death, turning a fair-to-middling regional American
orchestra into a world-class ensemble so good that it brought enormous
favorable attention to American classical music-making in general. The fine
conductors primarily associated with the orchestra in the three decades after
Szell’s death – Louis Lane, Pierre Boulez, Lorin Maazel, Christoph von Dohnányi
– largely preserved the Szell legacy but never really advanced it, and there
was, if anything, some backsliding in the remarkable precision and commitment that
Szell elicited from an ensemble that came to sound, under Szell, like a
100-member chamber group.
Franz Welser-Möst came to The Cleveland
Orchestra in 2002, and his contract was recently extended to 2027 – which would
make him, surely by design, a longer-serving maestro in Cleveland than
Szell. The Cleveland Orchestra: A New Century appears to exist largely to
celebrate both the ensemble’s centenary and its emphatic move beyond the Szell
era – a move that is made exceptionally clear through the choice of works
included on the CDs within this release. It is also clear in the book, an
element that is just as important here as the music: outside a discussion of
the history of the acoustics of Severance Hall, the orchestra’s home, and some
obviously necessary paragraphs within a mandatory (and 100%
public-relations-focused) “Past, Present, and Future” section, Szell gets a
couple of brief, suitably complimentary mentions, but only in passing – his
era, after all, ended half a century ago. The
Cleveland Orchestra: A New Century is a tribute to the orchestra as it has
been polished and positioned by Welser-Möst, who contributes a significant
amount of the written material as well as the podium leadership.
This is a release clearly aimed at
supporters and potential supporters, financial and otherwise, of The Cleveland
Orchestra in its current incarnation. But for such an elegantly produced and
packaged production, it has some strange omissions and outright errors. For
example, the book’s narrative discusses the importance that Welser-Möst
attaches to opera; and indeed, the inclusion of opera within the orchestra’s
concert seasons is one distinctive element of the Welser-Möst era – actually a
revival, of sorts, of an approach introduced by Artur Rodzinski in the 1930s.
But nothing operatic appears on any of the three included CDs. Also, as usual
in a document intended to praise rather than explore or analyze, the book
allows statements to stand at face value when they are clearly questionable:
Welser-Möst, whose commentary is for the most part both learned and genial, at
one point describes the orchestra as a “supreme amalgamation of many parts
working effortlessly as one,” a comment that is as much at odds with the
enormously effortful requirements of rehearsals and in-performance perfection-seeking
as it is possible to be. Elsewhere, he comments on ways in which Beethoven was
“like so many composers lucky enough to reach the later stages of life” – but
Beethoven died at age 56, living decades longer than Mozart (one example from
his time) but not nearly as long as Haydn (another example).
These and other inelegances of expression
contribute to a sense that the book appears to have been produced without input
from any objective editor. Minor but irritating grammatical mistakes abound. For
example: “The people of Cleveland recognized that having an orchestra of their
own offered potential, both at home and on the road, for performing great music
and by [sic] representing Cleveland
throughout the world.” And: “The New York
Times has declared Cleveland under Welser-Möst’s direction to be the [sic] ‘America’s most brilliant
orchestra…’” Even the book’s table of contents contains embarrassing errors:
there is a section correctly listed as starting on page 119, then one
incorrectly listed as starting on page 135 (the correct page number is 133),
and then one listed as starting on
the same page 119 as the previous section (that
one actually starts on page 135). So elaborate and costly a production deserved
better.
So, for those not especially enamored of
this particular orchestra for its own sake, and not necessarily inclined to
become donors to it, does the music
included here justify the purchase price and invite a potential new audience to
The Cleveland Orchestra in the Welser-Möst era? The answer is: it depends. Once
again, the intention to move determinedly past the Szell legacy is apparent in
the choice of repertoire on display here: there is not one single piece from
the more-traditional time periods championed by Szell, and indeed nothing at
all in which a Welser-Möst reading could be compared with one by Szell by
anybody so inclined. There are two works from the 19th century, two
from the 20th, and two from the 21st, but there has
apparently been a concerted effort to remain off the beaten path throughout, as
if to proclaim in this way, as in others, the orchestra’s new direction.
From the standpoint of performance, though, considerations of
the oddity of the repertoire are swept aside: Welser-Möst does an absolutely
first-rate job with everything, and listeners looking for less-familiar pieces
of all sorts will find a very great deal to enjoy and admire here.
Still, a raised eyebrow or two would be in
order. There is a Beethoven work offered, but as part of the assiduous attempt
to avoid any cross-comparisons, it is not a work for orchestra: it is his String Quartet No. 15, Op. 132, in a
string-orchestra arrangement. This is the quartet in whose extended central
movement Beethoven expresses his gratitude to God after recovering from an
intestinal ailment. It is a very deeply felt work that uses the quartet form,
and in particular the careful relationship among the four instruments, in some
altogether new ways. Does it “work” when played by a larger string complement?
Well, yes, in the sense that the added instruments broaden and deepen the sound
of the music (inevitable when double basses are included); and in the further
sense that The Cleveland Orchestra’s strings are one of the orchestra’s most-impressive-sounding
sections, along with the ensemble’s woodwinds. But does the arrangement serve
any particular communicative or emotive purpose? Well, no: if anything, it
distracts from the intimacy of what Beethoven communicates here. The result is
an interesting experiment that ultimately says more about Welser-Möst and his
thinking than it does about Beethoven.
The other 19th-century work
here is by Richard Strauss, whose opulence and grandeur would seem ideal for
putting a high-quality orchestra through its paces. But Welser-Möst here
chooses to present none of the better-known tone poems: he opts for Aus Italien, which is Strauss’ Op.16 and
was written when the composer was 22. This four-section work is uneven, does
not yet display many of the characteristics of Strauss’ more-mature (and
better-organized) tone poems, and – except for some lovely horn material in the
first movement – does not come through with nearly as much individuality as do
the composer’s later endeavors. Is it worth hearing from time to time?
Absolutely. Will listeners who know Strauss enjoy a well-played version of this
early piece? Again, absolutely. But using this
as the work with which to help showcase the “new century” of The Cleveland
Orchestra is another rather odd decision.
When it comes to the 20th-century
pieces here, the choices – both from the 1920s – are again a bit strange.
Edgard Varèse’s Amériques (1921) seems
nowhere near as explosive today as it used to – although it is still one heck
of a showcase for percussion, which turns out to be another outstanding section
of The Cleveland Orchestra. Amériques
seems mostly a work of its time, of an age of industrialization and immigration
and crowding and endless mechanical susurrations. Welser-Möst leads the piece
with enthusiasm, emphasizing its many contrasts and certainly not holding back
when it comes to the notorious use of a siren; it is a fine performance. And
Welser-Möst is equally enthusiastic in presenting the other 20th-century
offering, a Prokofiev symphony. But this is another very odd choice: it is not
the well-known “Classical,” or either of the great symphonies (Nos. 5 and 6), or
even the restrained and melancholic No. 7; nor is it the peculiar and oddly
compelling No. 2, which dates to 1925 and shares many sensibilities with Amériques. No, Welser-Möst selects
Symphony No. 3, which dates to 1928-29 and consists of material from the
unsuccessful opera The Fiery Angel,
whose first full performance occurred only in 1954, the year after the
composer’s death. This is the closest thing listeners get in The Cleveland Orchestra: A New Century
to something operatic, but there is actually little that is in any way opera-like
in the symphony – themes from the stage are used very differently for the
symphonic work. Prokofiev’s Symphony No. 3 is rarely heard in concert;
listeners are most likely to own it as part of a complete cycle of the composer’s
eight symphonic works (including the two very different versions of Symphony
No. 4). It is, in fact, an underrated work that, when well-performed, has
considerable power. And it is certainly well-performed here: Welser-Möst
handles the complex and frequently rather noisy score sure-handedly and
effectively. The Cleveland Orchestra’s excellent woodwinds, in particular, are
standouts, and the strings are excellent in the pervasive eerie passages of the
third movement. Yet as a whole, although this is a reading that is interesting
and convincing, it is not one that is likely to leave anyone thinking that this
work, despite its intriguing elements, is on the same level as the best of Prokofiev’s
later, more-cohesive symphonies. It shows a different side of Prokofiev from
those more typically heard, which may well have been Welser-Möst’s reason for
programming it; but whether that is a sufficient rationale for including it in
this particular package is at best arguable.
And that brings us to the two 21st-century
pieces included in The Cleveland
Orchestra: A New Century, both of them world première recordings – and both
of them offering good reasons for listeners to consider acquiring this release,
despite its peculiarities and imperfections. Dating to 2016, Stromab (Downstream) by Johannes Maria
Staud (born 1974) is not-quite-program music inspired by a specific program.
Staud wrote it in response to Algernon Blackwood’s 1907 novella, The Willows, a tale that horror master
H.P. Lovecraft placed at the top of both the lists he made of his favorite
weird tales. Like many contemporary works for orchestra, Stromab calls for a very large orchestra and an enormous percussion
section (needing four percussionists, which seems a lot except when compared
with the number needed for Amériques:
nine!) that includes cowbells and sleigh bells and tubular bells, nine gongs,
four bongos, two conga drums, and much more. Staud uses the orchestra
skillfully, creating a work whose meaning seems always just out of sight (thus
reflecting the experiences of the characters in The Willows). The piece is unsettling rather than overtly
frightening (again reflecting its source material) and is always anticipatory –
from an opening that sounds a bit like that of Mahler’s Symphony No. 1, through
sections in which the orchestra emulates mystifying and possibly malevolent
sounds, into segments that partake of minimalism but also feature sudden sonic
eruptions. The work is largely and rather surprisingly tonal, certainly
featuring plenty of dissonance but always bringing listeners to a grounding in
consonance – it is no stretch to hear this as a contrast between the mundane
world and something stranger, more evanescent and ultimately inexplicable, a
stance that fits Blackwood’s ethos perfectly. Stromab is essentially a one-movement, 20-minute concerto for
orchestra, and that is how Welser-Möst handles it: as a display piece, yes, and
a showcase for the strength of the orchestra’s sections and the individual
performers within them, but also as an opportunity to show the subtlety with
which today’s Cleveland Orchestra can play a work of considerable rhythmic,
harmonic and communicative complexity.
And then there is a piece that shows an
entirely different side of The Cleveland Orchestra and, in the process,
highlights an otherwise little-known element of its history through the
performance of an outstanding soloist. The work, which dates to 2014-15, is Okeanos: Concerto for Organ and Orchestra,
by Bernd Richard Deutsch (born 1977). And here Welser-Möst gets to show his
approach to an element of conducting that many orchestra directors dislike or
at best tolerate: accompanying a soloist and often playing second fiddle (sometimes
literally) to the featured virtuoso. Much of the discussion of Okeanos in the book around which The Cleveland Orchestra: A New Century
is built centers on the Daniel R. Lewis Young Composer Fellows program –
Deutsch is currently serving in it, and Staud was in the program from 2007-2009
– and on the 1930-31 organ built for Severance Hall by Ernest M. Skinner, a
famed Boston organ builder of the early 20th century. Remarkably –
in light of the quality of the organ – the instrument essentially disappeared
from Cleveland Orchestra use for 40
years, because of modifications to Severance Hall that significantly
enhanced orchestral acoustics while seriously compromising those of the organ.
This little-known story, told in the book (unsurprisingly) in a way that
downplays the detrimental effects of the long neglect and builds to the
reintroduction of the organ in 2001, after its restoration, becomes part and
parcel of the story of Okeanos.
But it is Paul Jacobs who really tells
that story – indeed, the story both of the work and of the organ on which he
plays it. Jacobs is a remarkable organist, whose technical skill is wedded to
profound musical understanding, whose comprehension of Bach is as impressive as
his commitment to and elucidation of the works of contemporary composers. Okeanos gives him – and the orchestra –
a real workout, and for that matter is also something of a workout, a bracing
and pleasant one, for the audience. Like Staud, Deutsch calls for a large
orchestra with plenty of percussion; also like Staud, Deutsch offers a work
that is almost programmatic but never entirely illustrative. The concerto is
named for the ancient Greek personification of the world’s oceans, but it is
not simply about water: it deals with the old notion of “four elements,” the
first being water, the second air, the third earth and the fourth fire. This is
an excellent organizational structure – one thinks of Nielsen’s Symphony No. 2,
“The Four Temperaments,” which has an analogous crafting – and Deutsch uses it
quite well. His writing for organ is very sensitive, and Jacobs knows exactly
how to make it as effective as possible – for instance, when the high-pitched
stops are played against piccolos and high percussion, and when soft string
stops are heard against orchestral trumpets and trombones. Jacobs has plenty of
chances to display his considerable virtuosity – parts of Okeanos sound like toccatas with all the stops pulled out, in some
cases pretty much literally. But this is far from a straightforward display
piece: Jacobs is also required in many places to perform in balance with,
rather than aurally in front of, the orchestra, and here too his first-rate
musicality and sense of style come to the fore. Interestingly, Welser-Möst also
shows himself willing to subsume his strong musical personality into the
requirements of Deutsch’s work: the orchestra is certainly loud enough when
called for, but there is no sense of competition between soloist ad ensemble
here – rather, Jacobs cooperates with Welser-Möst to produce a whole greater
than its constituent parts. That is an ideal approach to this (and many other)
concertos.
As for the music of Okeanos, it has derivative elements, but from a wide range of
sources: it sounds here like film music, there like post-Schoenberg atonality,
elsewhere like outright spookiness of the sort for which organs are sometimes
(indeed, all too often) employed. What is interesting is the way Deutsch plays
with and plays around with these elements, using them – and encouraging Jacobs
to use them – in ways that make Okeanos
sound genuinely new despite its inclusion of material familiar from elsewhere.
For example, there are several occasions on which something portentous seems to
be going on – until Deutsch suddenly changes the sound, and Jacobs takes
listeners in an unexpected direction. Sometimes that direction is an amusing
one, as in the first movement, when everything builds and builds and gets more
and more dramatic, only to come to a sudden and unexpected full stop that
leaves just the sound of chimes and bells behind. The speed of the second
movement contrasts well with the slow meandering of the third, while the
finale, if not exactly fiery, is witty and speedy and – in Jacobs’ hands –
thoroughly engaging and involving.
It is for the world première recordings of
Stromab and Okeanos, for the exceptional performance of Paul Jacobs as much as
for the consistently high-quality leadership of Franz Welser-Möst, that
listeners should seriously consider owning The
Cleveland Orchestra: A New Century. The whole thing is overdone,
self-important, self-referential, and somewhat too determined to bypass the
legacy of the great conductor who brought the orchestra to a quality on which
Welser-Möst has been able to build. And really, given the odd repertoire
selection, The Cleveland Orchestra: A New
Century smacks of being a moneymaking project as much as a musical one. Yet
there is nothing inherently wrong with that: nothing here would be possible
without sufficient generosity, and if this attractive-looking package is a bit
over-the-top where packaging is concerned, and a bit underwhelming when it
comes to repertoire, so be it. The Staud and Deutsch works are genuine finds,
whatever the motivation for their inclusion here; Jacobs’ performance of the Deutsch
is top-notch by any standards, and completely convincing; and even if
self-aggrandizement has a somewhat too-heavy presence in The Cleveland Orchestra: A New Century, it is difficult, after
reading so much and hearing so much, to do anything less than wish the
orchestra well with its music-making, marketing and, yes, fundraising.
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