LEONARD SLATKIN AND THE VSO BRING STRONG ILLUMINATION TO MASON BATES AND RICHARD STRAUSS

Hung-Wei Huang (viola), Henry Shapard (cello), Vancouver Symphony Orchestra, Leonard Slatkin (conductor): Works by Albeniz, Mason Bates and Richard Strauss, Orpheum, March 8, 2024.

This concert was the Vancouver debut of distinguished American maestro Leonard Slatkin. Now in his 80th year, one might regard this as somewhat overdue but, indeed, worth the wait. The program was intriguing, pairing Mason Bates’ contemporary Anthology of Fantastic Zoology – a whimsical, yet telling, musical representation of a host of mythical creatures created by Jorge Luis Borges – with the equally ‘fantastical’ variations comprising Don Quixote by Richard Strauss. By highlighting the striking instrumental effects and theatrical elements in both works, Slatkin’s readings seemingly brought them closer together, even if they are from two vastly different compositional traditions. The orchestra was well up to the task, achieving precision and as big a sound as I have heard, while the VSO’s principal cello Henry Shapard negotiated his part in the Strauss with both eloquence and understanding.

It is useful to understand some of the inspiration behind this concert. In speaking with the conductor prior to performance, Slatkin acknowledged that he become more intensely concerned with the ‘health’ of classical music over the years and, in particular, the ability of modern compositions to communicate readily with audiences. He identifies David del Tredici’s ‘Final Alice’ (1976) as the first real turning point away from the ‘academic’ compositions that had dominated American music from the 1950s. Though Del Tredici was originally a devoted serialist, this composition hit with such immediate emotional force and theatrical reach that it sketched a new template for ‘accessible’ modern compositions. (Slatkin was actually present at the stunning Chicago Symphony premiere under Georg Solti, with soprano Barbara Hendricks.) Though one must also mention Philip Glass, John Corigliano and many others, Mason Bates stands as the perfect extension of this template for current times, a composer sporting ample electronics and other ‘cool’ features such as also being a DJ into techno-dance. One of his teachers was Del Tredici. Bates’ compositions do not skimp on complexity but they include many innovative theatrical components which allow his works to communicate strongly even to the uninitiated. There are few young composers whose star has risen as quickly.

The Bates work was played after a colourful opening snippet from Albeniz’s Iberia. Anthology of Fantastic Zoology is the last, and longest, work written by the composer during his tenure as Composer-In-Residence at the Chicago Symphony, and premiered in 2015. It is not a work that uses electronics but is distinguished by a hefty percussion section that employs items like 11 timpani and a soprano wind machine. There is a sparkling, clean athleticism in many of the composer’s 11 depictions of these strange imaginary creatures and their interactions, and the writing often relies on quick rhythmic alternations and punctuating instrumental interjections to move the music forward. Lighter and heavier textures are artfully contrasted, and many antiphonal and other spatial/visual effects within the orchestra are present. These equally appear in the more meditative lyrical episodes, such as the rarefied ‘Sirenes’ where we find violins set in the rear of the stage, coordinating with the winds and front-stage strings. There are also moments of great orchestral power, including some tremendous forays on the timpani later on in the work.

There is an energy and a fresh luminosity in these depictions, as well as obvious art in making the work’s 30 minutes hang together. While it might be thought of as a ‘symphony’ of sorts, it comes off more like a very enjoyable ballet suite or, perhaps, an updated take on the ‘concerto for orchestra’ designs offered by many earlier 20th century American composers. Besides its use of cinematic features, another key feature responsible for its accessibility is its retro look. At the same time as expositing a zoological anthology, Bates welds together a sort of an anthology of 20th century American classical music constructional techniques, whether it be in the selective use of Glassian rhythms and riffs, the lyrically suspended expressive lines of Copland, a neoclassical complexity in the strings, or the craggy brass statements of William Schuman and others. At one point, I actually thought we were building to the famous patriotic statement in Copland’s 3rd Symphony. All this historical reference may be as helpful in engaging the listener as the visual effects. In fact, since I spent about half of ‘Sirenes’ searching for where the (rear stage) violin sound was coming from – and not listening to the music – it actually may be more helpful than the visual effects, which in this case were distracting.

Overall, Bates’ composition turns out as a very attractive and fluently constructed virtuoso piece. It has obvious charm in its ingenuity and variety, while providing a consistent enough flow of novelty to hold the listener. That said, I don’t feel it intends to explore genuinely new feelings, nor do I find that every one of the composer’s theatrical effects adds to the music. Just in his 40s, Mason Bates continues to develop, and has already moved somewhat beyond this composition.

In keeping with Maestro Slatkin’s concerns, suppose we now see Richard Strauss’ Don Quixote as cut from similar cloth as the Bates. What might a performance look like? There are obvious reasons why the works might be linked: both involve fantasy constructions which are somewhat larger than life, and both involve rather exotic orchestral effects, involving augmented winds, brass, and percussion, including a wind machine. The ‘bleating sheep’ in Strauss might actually find a home in Bates’ world too.

There was certainly a cinematic dimension to this performance. Slatkin pushed with speed and urgency through the early ‘windmill’ sequence, achieving great power in the orchestral response. The ‘bleating sheep’ variation started modestly, but it too built with unbridled cacophony. The pungency of Strauss’ innovative lower wind and brass effects was strongly brought out, and the later orchestral climaxes were given an engulfing, almost surreal, amplitude. Interestingly, a sense of chaotic motion was often conveyed, with the starts, stops and lurches in the music emphasized. So, what about the cello? In keeping with Slatkin’s view that Strauss never intended the cellist to have soloist status, Henry Shapard played from the cello section. However, the conductor did move the whole cello section in front of the podium to give it prominence, and split the first and second violins.

Since charm and caprice were not notable features of this performance, I think it would have been a bit over-the-top if the cello was prone to virtuoso display as well. However, Henry Shapard’s playing was assured, sincere and eloquent, and not demonstrative in the slightest, acting as a sort of an inner voice that flows on in spite of all the indulgence. The cello was not as dominant as usual, and neither was the viola of Sancho Panza (VSO principal Hung-Wei Huang), but the sense that the cello was a discerning ‘interpreter’ of all the bigger events and feelings – standing in the shadows as it were – was instructive, and seemed to make the performance work on two levels simultaneously. Shapard’s treatment of the quiet, mournful ending was particularly sensitive. This reading actually turned out to be quite successful in balancing dramatic force with repose, albeit in a rather different way than one might be used to.

I was prepared to test Slatkin’s theory about audience engagement with contemporary pieces, so I invited someone to join me who was just starting out on classical music. When I asked him what he thought of the Bates/Strauss pairing in this concert, he said, “I enjoyed both works, and they added up to a real experience. They are actually similar in some ways, but I think I enjoyed the Strauss a little more”. This is an affirmative result in many respects. As far as the orchestra goes, Slatkin’s visit was very productive, eliciting a bigger corporate sound from the ensemble, fostering precision and virtuosity (especially in the Bates), while coaxing a generally more expressive response from the woodwind section. I personally was thrilled by Leonard Slatkin’s visit to the city, since how often do we get to see conductors of his stature and historical legacy! A nagging regret – and a recurring theme in the post-Covid era – is that the audience was thinner than it should have been.