KAREN GOMYO AND GERARD SCHWARZ COMBINE FOR A SUPERB ‘AMERICAN’ CONCERT
Karen Gomyo (violin), Vancouver Symphony Orchestra/Gerard Schwarz (conductor): Music of Diamond, Barber and Brahms, Orpheum, October 1, 2023.
Photo courtesy of VSO
It was a great idea to invite Gerard Schwarz to conduct an American program with the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra. He has championed modern American music for 5 decades, and has produced a resplendent catalogue of recordings of often-forgotten composers with the Seattle Symphony Orchestra. At this concert, Schwarz gave one of the best performances of David Diamond’s Symphony No. 4 I have heard and, alongside sparkling violinist Karen Gomyo, collaborated in a wonderfully rich and involving account of Samuel Barber’s more popular Violin Concerto. If the closing performance of Brahms Symphony No. 1 ran at somewhat lower level of inspiration, it did not detract from the sheer joy of this concert. The orchestra participated magnificently.
David Diamond’s 11 published symphonies were composed over the very long span, 1940-1991. The early ones from the 1940s were strongly received, championed by the likes of Koussevitzky, Bernstein, Munch, Ormandy and Mitropoulos, but his later ones had difficulty finding an audience, given the coming preference for more atonal compositions. Gerard Schwarz has almost single-handedly resurrected Diamond’s symphonies, recording a number of them from about 1989 forward for Delos (later re-issued on Naxos), and continuing to give public performances to this day. While his 2nd Symphony may be seen as his early masterpiece, his economical Symphony No. 4 (1945) and his enduringly-popular virtuoso piece Rounds (1944) are the easiest introduction to his art.
The 4th symphony is only 16 minutes long – in 3 movements – but it is sophisticated structurally and has an emotional range that one often finds in longer symphonies. Its opening movement, representing ‘sleep’, proceeds from a lovely lyrical unfolding on the strings, which suspends the music and gives it a seeming continuity. The strings have only a few motives, but these are subject to subtle variation and interplay, expressing a myriad of different breezy shadings while always searching for resolution. If this component is intendedly diffuse, what anchors the work’s structure is another set of relationships between the varied timpani rhythms, brass interjections and always-communicative woodwinds. As the music eventually becomes stronger and more dramatic, both parts come together, and one can only marvel at Diamond’s genius in balancing the two dimensions. The truculence of the brass leave no doubt that this is an American symphony. While Schwarz’s tempo might have been on the quicker side – limiting some of the suspended airiness of the opening – he found the pulse of the music immediately and, with perceptive detailing and structural awareness, achieved as much coherence in this movement as I have heard.
Written at the end of the war, it is not surprising that the work’s slow movement is much darker, having the feeling of a dirge. Starting from strong Stravinsky-like chords, a tread begins from wonderfully tender strings, carried on by the oboes. There is the feeling of regret, of homage, of burden. Then, the full range of feeling comes out in massed string textures and a decisive climax, with a soft brass chorale following. I thought the conductor achieved superb concentration here, finding real intimacy at the opening, opening out the massed strings with eloquence, as well as engendering a feeling of wonder over the whole. The clouds completely lift for the finale, which has all the zip and buoyancy of a Haydn Rondo-Finale. It twists and turns around an upbeat tune, with active winds, sharp contrasts and wonderful moments for sassy brass – all fully exhilarating by the end.
This was an inspired performance, thoughtful and penetrating, yet fully spontaneous, and I doubt that I have ever enjoyed the work more. The symphony should be performed much more frequently. The VSO’s attentiveness was noteworthy throughout, and their playing in the effervescent finale was stunning.
Whereas Diamond’s work achieved strong recognition early, and was then forgotten, Samuel Barber’s Violin Concerto (1939) was forgotten quickly after an initial spell of popularity, only re-gaining some exposure with the celebrated recording of Isaac Stern and Leonard Bernstein in 1964. However, there were very few recordings made even up to 1985, and then interest exploded. (Barber died in 1981.) The principal problem with the work, noted from its beginnings, is that its first two movements are ultra-romantic, while its finale is a mere 3.5-minute exercise in neoclassical rigour. We are all used to this format now, it seems. The immediate appeal of the former movements is that they juxtapose ravishing inward beauty and lyricism from the soloist with the spectre of doubt or darker forces, engendering all the feelings of hope, despair, resignation, and possible triumph. (It is easy to think that Barber was referring to the darker forces of the coming war, but there is no documentation for that.)
It was lovely to have another visit from violinist Karen Gomyo, who grew up in Montreal and then went to the Juilliard School at the invitation of Dorothy DeLay. Her playing is distinguished by remarkable strength, technical virtuosity, and range of tone colour. Early performances with the VSO tended to have great brilliance, but her eagerness and a tendency to overemphasis compromised interpretative depth to a degree. However, her 2019 VSO performance of the Brahms Violin Concerto seemed to take a large step forward, finding genuine long-run vision and command, and a lovely mix of feeling and tonal beauty. I would say her current rendering of the Barber is an even more mature vision, and one of great depth and power.
It was the purity and strength that Gomyo brought to the wonderfully-engulfing opening theme of the concerto that immediately signalled her command. As the work progressed, one noticed the lovely point and conviction she brought to the more energetic passage-work, contrasting well with the fragile intimacy of the quieter moments. In this performance, the violinist seemingly always courted illusions of hope but, quite uniquely, also gave glimpses of a burning anger just under the surface. She conveyed a feeling of stoic nobility perfectly at other points. Maestro Schwarz was a most sympathetic collaborator, always aware of the dramatic dimensions of the music. The ominous tread which underlies much of the opening movement’s development was perfectly exposed, finding the right tentative feeling for the resolute little clarinet march. The full-orchestra restatement of the opening theme in the middle was fully elemental and heaven storming.
The somber Andante impressed by its concentration and stillness. Gomyo found a rare intimacy throughout much of it, making the violin speak on a truly personal level. This was very moving. It is only towards the end that she briefly veered into a more public, virtuoso mode that seemed too passionate. Schwarz and the orchestra conveyed the sadness of the movement and its stark contrasts very well, once again bringing elemental strength to its big climax. Gomyo then tore through the moto perpetuo finale with true zeal and joy. It was absolutely stunning playing, and just the right contrast from the darkness that preceded it. This was a wonderfully rich performance overall, and I can think of few approaches I would prefer to this.
I’m not sure there is such a thing as an ‘American’ Brahms First but, with its strong projection and linear push, Schwarz’s performance seemed a bit like one. In any event, it was a good match with the earlier works. There was much to like about the first movement – it was a powerful, dramatic reading – but, still, it did not fully convey the monolithic austerity in Brahms’ writing, nor its mystery. Most important, the quiet transitions in the movement were given less space and sense of anticipation than they might have had, and the woodwinds often failed to find the character they needed. Again, the two middle movements moved well but tended to the literal side, having less charm, repose and easeful lyricism than usual. Barring a few moments of excitable tempo acceleration and one or two missed brass entries, the finale certainly had all the power and projection to take the work grandly home. From the audience’s reaction, it did just that – yet I still found it somewhat too driving and insistent in style.
Perhaps I am just too fussy. This was an excellent way to close out a wonderful concert.
© Geoffrey Newman 2023