07
Feb
2005
I enjoy music in several different ways. There’s the intellectual satisfaction of learning, being engaged by a piece, and using my imagination to make the music come alive. There are the quirky nuances of the piece, performance, and musicians that spark my interest and make me smile.
And, every once in a while, there’s a soothing piece that’s healing. Conductor Donald Schleicher, the Quad City Symphony Orchestra, and guest violin soloist David Kim delivered an intensely enjoyable program last Saturday at the Adler Theatre that worked on all those levels.
First, Schleicher invited Symphony violinist Corina Lobont to share background about the first piece on the program, Bela Bartok’s Music for Strings, Percussion, & Celesta. Born about 100 miles from Transylvania (Bartok’s birthplace), Lobont is writing her doctoral dissertation on Bartok’s life and music.
During the time Bartok wrote the piece, he was living in the midst of war. His conflict of emotions is evident in the haunting, frantic, and somewhat depressing sounds of the piece. The first movement comprises a single minor theme, which is based on an ancient chant performed by priests at mass. The piece is in arch form; as the theme was echoed and reintroduced by sections of the orchestra, the volume and intensity grew to a climax. After a tension-filled unison section, the piece began to wan in intensity until it faded away.
The next movement began with a series of fast runs, cacophonic and clashing. Changing time signatures, clunky pizzicato, glissandos on the tympani, and a general disjointedness made it easy for me to imagine the chaos and jumbled feelings of a soldier in the midst of a battle.
Next, the xylophone introduced the third movement with a bare, edgy series of notes. The tympani joined with an unearthly bending of notes, broken at last by the “sobbing” of the violas – a low, slow-moving theme. As the piece progressed, Bartok used wispy trills, seemingly arrhythmic instrumentation, and harsh flicking of the harp. I was definitely on edge during this movement; I felt like I was in the middle of one of those dreams in which you’re not sure what’s wrong, but there’s something terrible going on. The final “dance” movement began with a joyous pizzicato and a happy piano melody. Presently, the piece turned confused, with a clash of frenzied runs and a highly pitched, frantic melody.
After the intermission, Schleicher hopped onto the podium, and, with arms outstretched, turned to the orchestra and jumped right into the proper-sounding theme of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Overture to “La Clemenza di Tito.” The short composition featured flute, oboe, and bassoon solos, adding sweetness and beauty to the ordered, pleasing piece.
David Kim then joined the orchestra for Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s Concerto in D Major for Violin & Orchestra, Op. 35. Animated and dignified, Kim’s friendliness lit up the theatre the minute he entered. As the orchestra played the introduction, Kim stood at the ready, and when it was time for him to join the orchestra, he threw the violin to his chin and led the audience into a daring, masterful, and stirring experience. Playing entirely from memory, Kim held the violin like it was part of himself, fingers meticulously placed for the most pure pitches and bow arm forming the resonant sound with masterful technique. From soothing melody to quirky cadenza, Kim entertained us with a mix of technical skill, moving melodies, and general flair.
I enjoyed the entire piece, but one section of the first movement stood out. The orchestra performed a reintroduction of the theme, and Kim filled every available empty space with a rain of notes. Finally, the horns crescendoed and then suddenly dropped out. No one moved – or breathed – for the next few minutes as Kim’s controlled, powerful cadenza soared through the theatre. And, when we all exhaled as the orchestra re-joined Kim during a final trill, I simply felt rejuvenated.
The rest of the audience apparently enjoyed the piece as well. Following the final movement, Kim and Schleicher were summoned three or four times to return to the stage to take a bow.
First, Schleicher invited Symphony violinist Corina Lobont to share background about the first piece on the program, Bela Bartok’s Music for Strings, Percussion, & Celesta. Born about 100 miles from Transylvania (Bartok’s birthplace), Lobont is writing her doctoral dissertation on Bartok’s life and music.
During the time Bartok wrote the piece, he was living in the midst of war. His conflict of emotions is evident in the haunting, frantic, and somewhat depressing sounds of the piece. The first movement comprises a single minor theme, which is based on an ancient chant performed by priests at mass. The piece is in arch form; as the theme was echoed and reintroduced by sections of the orchestra, the volume and intensity grew to a climax. After a tension-filled unison section, the piece began to wan in intensity until it faded away.
The next movement began with a series of fast runs, cacophonic and clashing. Changing time signatures, clunky pizzicato, glissandos on the tympani, and a general disjointedness made it easy for me to imagine the chaos and jumbled feelings of a soldier in the midst of a battle.
Next, the xylophone introduced the third movement with a bare, edgy series of notes. The tympani joined with an unearthly bending of notes, broken at last by the “sobbing” of the violas – a low, slow-moving theme. As the piece progressed, Bartok used wispy trills, seemingly arrhythmic instrumentation, and harsh flicking of the harp. I was definitely on edge during this movement; I felt like I was in the middle of one of those dreams in which you’re not sure what’s wrong, but there’s something terrible going on. The final “dance” movement began with a joyous pizzicato and a happy piano melody. Presently, the piece turned confused, with a clash of frenzied runs and a highly pitched, frantic melody.
After the intermission, Schleicher hopped onto the podium, and, with arms outstretched, turned to the orchestra and jumped right into the proper-sounding theme of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Overture to “La Clemenza di Tito.” The short composition featured flute, oboe, and bassoon solos, adding sweetness and beauty to the ordered, pleasing piece.
David Kim then joined the orchestra for Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s Concerto in D Major for Violin & Orchestra, Op. 35. Animated and dignified, Kim’s friendliness lit up the theatre the minute he entered. As the orchestra played the introduction, Kim stood at the ready, and when it was time for him to join the orchestra, he threw the violin to his chin and led the audience into a daring, masterful, and stirring experience. Playing entirely from memory, Kim held the violin like it was part of himself, fingers meticulously placed for the most pure pitches and bow arm forming the resonant sound with masterful technique. From soothing melody to quirky cadenza, Kim entertained us with a mix of technical skill, moving melodies, and general flair.
I enjoyed the entire piece, but one section of the first movement stood out. The orchestra performed a reintroduction of the theme, and Kim filled every available empty space with a rain of notes. Finally, the horns crescendoed and then suddenly dropped out. No one moved – or breathed – for the next few minutes as Kim’s controlled, powerful cadenza soared through the theatre. And, when we all exhaled as the orchestra re-joined Kim during a final trill, I simply felt rejuvenated.
The rest of the audience apparently enjoyed the piece as well. Following the final movement, Kim and Schleicher were summoned three or four times to return to the stage to take a bow.
