(++++) A MATTER OF GEOGRAPHY

Copland: The Tender Land—Suite; Paul Creston: Saxophone Concerto; Ulysses Kay: Pietà; Walter Piston: The Incredible Flutist Suite. Anna Mattix, English horn; Timothy McAllister, alto saxophone; National Orchestral Institute Philharmonic conducted by JoAnn Falletta. Naxos. $13.99.

Dvořák: Symphony No. 7; David Serkin Ludwig: Violin Concerto. Bella Hristova, violin; Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by JoAnn Falletta. Beau Fleuve. $15.

     The notion of music as a universal form of communication is at best naïve, ignoring both changes over time (what would Mozart make of musique concrète, much less of rap?) and differences of culture (the Chinese guzheng, erhu and dizi, and the Indian sarod, sahnai and sarangi, do not speak to Western ears as they do to those of their own places of origin, and never mind that the Arabic rabab is an ancestor of the European violin). Even within a single broadly defined musical heritage, questions can reasonably be raised about how and how well composers’ works communicate with audiences in different eras and areas – a topic intriguingly if indirectly raised by two new CDs conducted by JoAnn Falletta, who has a penchant for exploring intriguing pairings and contrasts. Her Naxos disc with the National Orchestral Institute Philharmonic is, on the face of it, strictly American, opening with Aaron Copland in his “accessible and popular” mode in the suite from his 1954 opera, The Tender Land (originally written for television – a groundbreaking approach for its time). Set in the 1930s Midwest, the work is something of a counterbalance to Virgil Thomson’s dour dustbowl-focused music for The Plow That Broke the Plains (1936): Copland’s focus is human relationships and their effect on changes in mid-20^th-century rural America. Although scarcely an upbeat work, it falls well short of tragedy, ending with a family splintered but also with a sense of hopefulness – what may be thought of as a kind of American optimism. Both the plot and the music seem somewhat dated now, but if the story is America-focused, the music speaks more of its time period than of anything specific to the United States. Somewhat similarly, the suite from Walter Piston’s 1938 ballet, The Incredible Flutist, transcends the work’s storyline (about a circus featuring a flute player with magical properties) although not so much its time period: the music is noticeably (and entertainingly) mid-20^th-century in its rhythms and harmonies, but the setting could be any village anywhere. In both these works, Falletta manages to highlight the elements that are indeed American (more in Copland than in Piston) while presenting the pieces in attractively paced performances that are more concerned with instrumental color and rhythmic vitality than with any sense of a specific place. The other two works on this CD – both world premiѐre recordings – are even less overtly “American” than the pieces by Copland and Piston. Ulysses Kay’s Pietà (1950) is a lovely and loving tribute to Michelangelo’s masterpiece, with a warmly emotive English horn (well-played by Anna Mattix) nicely complementing ensemble expressiveness that reaches out to any listeners, anywhere, who are willing to be emotionally moved. And the original orchestral version of Paul Creston’s 1941 Saxophone Concerto gets a very fine performance from Timothy McAllister, its jazz inflections not specifically American (jazz having influenced composers worldwide by this time) and its balance and interweaving of solo and orchestral elements created with a firm and knowing compositional hand that bespeaks skill but not specificity of location.

     The musical reference points of the violin concerto by David Serkin Ludwig are overtly non-American, even though Ludwig (born 1974) is an American composer and educator. Ludwig wrote the piece – which gets its world première recording with Falletta leading the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra on the ensemble’s own label – for his wife, Bella Hristova, who is the soloist in this recording. The work is intended to reflect Hristova’s Eastern European background: she is from Bulgaria, and her father, a composer one of whose works Ludwig quotes in this concerto, was from Russia. The concerto is supposed to draw its structure from a Slavonic wedding ceremony, including folk dances and a processional. For better or worse, though, what Ludwig has created is a piece that does not really display its intentions musically or evoke the forms, places and time period underlying it: it simply sounds like a rather intricate contemporary violin concerto requiring considerable solo virtuosity and being somewhat on the episodic side in terms of its themes and their development (or lack thereof). Impressively played both by Hristova and by the Buffalo Philharmonic, the work nevertheless is somewhat on the cool side: it may have considerable personal meaning to Ludwig and Hristova, but it does not reach out to a general audience (in any geographical location) in any significant sense. This means that it contrasts strongly (and not to Ludwig’s advantage) with Dvořák’s most-emotional symphony, No. 7. This is a work pervaded by Czech feelings and specific attempts to elevate Czech nationalism of the 1880s by acknowledging the populace’s political struggles and resilience. Yet its very direct appeal to and evocation of the composer’s homeland is virtually unknown today outside Eastern Europe and academic circles. The symphony has long outlasted its inspirations, its time period, and the Austro-Hungarian Empire itself, speaking with a remarkably cogent voice of beauty, lyricism, struggle, triumph and emotional intensity – without requiring listeners to know or understand anything of the composer’s foundational reasons for creating it. Its geographical origin, in other words, has become totally irrelevant to its impact – which is considerable when it receives a suitably intense performance, as it almost does from Falletta and the Buffalo Philharmonic. The first three movements in this reading are excellent: well-balanced, strongly rhythmic, and giving the horns – which are crucial to this symphony’s overall effect – plenty of chances to shine; indeed, this brass section has never sounded better. Falletta’s pacing and emphases are well-thought-out and well-implemented throughout the first three movements, sweeping the audience (wherever it may be physically located) into music of high drama and emotional sensitivity. The finale, unfortunately, is something less than a capstone, as Falletta seeks unnecessarily to heighten its drama through uncalled-for rubato and some unnecessary and unpleasant fussiness, such as distinct pauses at certain points that interfere with the music’s flow although they are clearly intended to increase its dramatic impact. The pacing of the finale, aside from those stop-and-start elements, is generally good, but the very end is underwhelming, despite yet another instance of excellence from the brass. The totality of this performance is still very fine, but it falls just a bit short of having the communicative strength of which the symphony is capable. Nevertheless, this entire Beau Fleuve CD showcases both the strength of the Buffalo Philharmonic and the ability of works with specific geographical reference points to go above and beyond those locales and prove music to be, if not a universal language, certainly a multilingual experience.