Archive for November 16th, 2010

In Praise of …

Tuesday, November 16th, 2010

By Alan Gilbert

I’ve often spoken about the uniquely awesome capacity of the New York Philharmonic, but I really must tip my hat to the musicians for what they have done over the last few weeks.

From Sunday, October 24, through Thursday, November 4, we were on tour in Europe, playing in familiar cities, such as Hamburg, Paris, and Luxembourg, and those that were new to most of the players, such as Belgrade – which the Orchestra hadn’t visited since 1959 – and Vilnius, where we just made our debut. Touring is demanding from a repertoire standpoint: the Orchestra must juggle multiple programs, which are mixed and matched in different combinations. On this particular tour there was some music that we also had to rehearse and perform while on the road. In Warsaw, our second concert featured Yulianna Avdeeva, the recently crowned winner of this year’s Chopin Piano Competition, playing Chopin’s E-minor Piano Concerto. One always feels a frisson of extra pressure when playing music that is both well known and beloved in its native land; in this case, a large ornament that hung above the stage didn’t let us forget how important, how connected to the Polish national psyche Chopin’s music is. (You are even reminded of that fact when you land at the Frederic Chopin International Airport!) Playing the orchestral accompaniment in Chopin’s concertos is far from straightforward, and in this case we had only one rehearsal, for a national broadcast, so it was even more of a challenge, but I must say that the Orchestra’s performance and the soloist’s, of course, were wonderful.

We also rehearsed Sibelius’s Violin Concerto with the tour’s other soloist, Leonidas Kavakos, while we were traveling, although it did help that we had just played the work in New York City with Joshua Bell.

On top of all this, on the day of the tour’s final concert, in Luxembourg, there was a preparatory rehearsal for Mendelssohn’s Elijah, the work that we were going to perform within a week, just after returning home from the tour. Elijah is a fantastic oratorio that combines moments of great drama with music of tremendous warmth and tenderness; at close to two hours and ten minutes, it’s practically an opera in its scope. I heard snatches of Mendelssohn cropping up while the musicians were warming up in the days preceding the work’s tour rehearsal; this wasn’t surprising, because it is what they do, but it was still impressive and gratifying. As if it wasn’t already enough that the musicians had to prepare this massive oratorio in the midst of everything else going on during the tour – they did so amazingly well.

You might think that the Orchestra would deserve a relatively light week upon returning from a European journey, and you would be right. That’s not how it was, though; we had the balance of the Elijah rehearsals and its three performances, and, to top it all off, we threw in a major concert at Carnegie Hall that featured Beethoven’s Violin Concerto, played by Midori, and John Adams’s Harmonielehre. This performance went extremely well, I think, so I couldn’t rightly say that we didn’t have enough rehearsal time for it. Let’s just say that I was amazed by what the musicians were able to accomplish considering how much, or little, preparation time we had.

Incidentally, I also want to observe that we have been lucky this fall to have a veritable parade of some of the greatest violinists in the world playing with us. I mentioned Midori, Kavakos, and Bell, and we also had Itzhak Perlman and Pinchas Zukerman. The violinistic riches continue this week with Anne-Sophie Mutter – I heard a few minutes of her rehearsal this morning, and know that New York is in for a treat.

(For more information on Alan Gilbert and the New York Philharmonic, visit nyphil.org.) 

As Pure as it Gets: Pepe Torres Flamenco

Tuesday, November 16th, 2010

By Rachel Straus

“This is 200 percent authentic flamenco,” whispered a Seville-born audience member during Homenaje, the one-night show created by Spanish dancer Pepe Torres, presented by the World Music Institute, and held at NYU’s Skirball Center on November 13. I think I knew what she meant. My first introduction to flamenco involved watching a troika of heavily made-up woman in ruffled organza skirts. They haughtily arched their backs and flourished serpentine-shaped arms. Then they pulverized the floor with their feet while looking mad as hell. Torres did nothing of the sort. With his ensemble of six male musicians, Torres was a marvel for what he is not: A sexed-up dancer, a drama king. His crystalline percussive footwork and lack of histrionics were awesome for what he laid bare: A passion for rhythm and performing with others.

After a 20-minute delay, Homenaje began in silence with Torres seated next to his flamenco shoes. Then the 33-year-old dancer from Seville began playing the guitar while looking at the audience, his face mesmerizing for its wide-eyed, tragic-comic dimensions (The muscles around his eyebrows slope down, those around his mouth curl up). It was fitting that Torres’s homage or Homenaje to his ancestors began with embracing an instrument. Music drives Torres’s artistic vision. His family is known for their gypsy guitar tradition, which is semi-improvisational, heavy-fingered, and passed from one generation to the next. While Torres’s grandfather Joselero de Moron introduced him to zapateado (flamenco’s rapid-fire footwork), his great uncle, the legendary Andalusian gypsy guitarist Diego del Gastor, initiated him into the rigors of playing and dancing in an ensemble.

Torres may have been the only dancer on Skirball’s stage, but Homenaje wasn’t a vehicle for his star power, primarily because the two-hour show for¡Flamenco Festival Gitano!felt unadorned and collaborative. Torres ended all four of his solos by walking off stage, as though his previous virtuoso dancing was merely a stopover between buying milk and a conversing with friends seated behind him, who happened to be playing guitars, singing, and hand clapping. The low production values of Homenaje added to its casual quality. The lighting was bare bones. The only props were a table and the wood chairs that the men sat on. The ensemble dressed in black (Torres appeared once in a gray suit). If it weren’t for the musician’s face mikes (which they occasionally manipulated with irritation), the men could have been in a backroom café.

But their song wasn’t easy on the heart. In laments, which ricocheted between piercing cries and minor key ululations, one male singer at a time reached an emotional fever pitch. Then like a wound mysteriously cauterized, the individual songs of Luis Moneo, Dávid Sanchez, Juan José Mador, Jr. abruptly ended. When Torres appeared, he breathed contrast into the proceedings. The percussive intensity of his footwork along side the fast fingerings of guitarists Eugenio and Paco Iglesias became an antidote to the long, heavy tones of the men’s cante (song). These spontaneous-seeming expressions of fervid intensity and then eternal sorrow are what make people mad for flamenco.

Homenaje ended with an extended encore by singer, guitarist, and elder statesman Juan del Gastor. Like a wine with an impressive pedigree, Gastor knows he’s special (the Playbill stated he is “heir to the guitar playing of his uncle Diego del Gastor”). Nonetheless, Gastor was the least compelling performer of the evening. He strutted like an old peacock and sported a violet-colored silk cravat. He didn’t bother with the microphone. While Gastor sang and danced (for what I feared might be a long time), Torres sat at the table and looked on admiringly. Unafraid of relinquishing the spotlight, Torres showed how flamenco is bound by honoring one’s predecessors. Yet Torres’s ability to dance percussive complexity and shirk the temptations of modern stagecraft is why many see him as person first, a performer second. It’s why Torres is considered authentic to the flamenco tradition.