CATCHING UP: NY PHILHARMONIC AND CORIGLIANO'S RED VIOLIN

Saturday evening we were back at Lincoln Center for a New York Philharmonic concert. It consisted of the New York premiere of John Corigliano's Concerto for Violin and Orchestra, entitled "The Red Violin," and Richard Strauss' Eine Alpensinfonie (An Alpine Symphony). The concert was not on our subscription, but we traded for it because of a conflict on another night.

I was particularly interested in hearing the concerto. Corigliano won the 2000 Oscar for his film score for The Red Violin, and I liked the music in that very much. Joshua Bell played for the film, and would be the soloist with the Philharmonic.

Unfortunately, what worked well for the film fell flat as a concerto. Translating a film score into a work for the concert stage is always difficult, because the purpose of the music is so different. Background music is best when the audience doesn't really notice it. It reinforces what is on the screen without intruding upon it. Even with a film like The Red Violin, where the making of the music is actually depicted in places, the score is still just a supportive device.

But a concert work has to stand on its own, supporting nothing. Corigliano used musical themes from the film score here and there, but never really brought it all together--particularly when he gives the soloist a chance to show off his or her virtuosity. Such an opportunity is usually necessary to attract a great musician to perform a new work. Here Bell (still wearing the black pajamas he wore at Mostly Mozart last summer) got to show off his prodigious skills, but I didn't see any particular connection to the rest of the piece.

Forty-three year old Jonathan Nott, for six years the principal conductor of the Bamberger Symphoniker, made his debut with the New York Philharmonic with this series of concerts. A champion of new music, he made the most of what little the concerto had to offer. It went on for forty minutes or so, and then he, Bell and Corigliano got their ovations. All in all Corigliano's concerto was a little more enjoyable than last week's one by Walton, but I still have no desire to hear either of them again.

After intermission (they've begun to carry very good, chewy brownies at the concessions--if they'd only add walnuts they'd be close to perfect), it was back for the Strauss. His Alpine Symphony has never been one of my favorites--I sometimes call it the Alpo Symphony, because it is such a dog. It goes on and on and on, without a break, for nearly an hour. It's supposed to describe a nature lover going up and down a mountain--the program lists 20+ episodes such as "Sunrise," "On the Glacier," "Mists Rise Up," "Night." Some of them are distinguishable, but many just seem to mush into each other--it isn't worth trying to figure out where you are on the list.

Strauss used a huge orchestra for this work, even compared to his usual large forces. Besides the full string sections, there are twice the usual number of winds, including two tubas. Strauss even threw in a Heckelphone, sort of an English horn on steroids. The percussion section gets to empty several of its closets, and then go down to the basement for the thunder sheet--a couple of long pieces of sheet metal bolted together end-to-end, with a handle on the bottom. This is suspended from above, reaching nearly from the ceiling to maybe seven feet from the floor. What else? There is also a full organ. (Memo to the Philharmonic: If you ever actually do renovate/replace Avery Fisher Hall PLEASE put in a real pipe organ. That electric one SUCKS. Sorry for the language.)

But filling the stage with, I don't know, maybe a 100+ players wasn't enough for Strauss. There is an off-stage 12-piece brass band in addition. Perhaps this should be called A Musicians' Union Full Employment Symphony.

Anyhow, they played it. The off-stage brass gets its turn early on. And after playing for maybe a minute, they're done for the night. The ones that live close by were probably home before the symphony ended. The ones on-stage soldiered on. They played and played. I watched the Santa Claus-bearded Heckelphonist through my binoculars. I can't say I every actually ever heard the Heckelphone, though--the Heckelphone part is always mixed in with a lot of other instruments. At long last there was the storm episode, time for the thunder-sheet, which had been looming over the orchestra all evening like a sonic sword of Damocles. Christopher Lamb, the Principal Percussionist (and tallest of the bunch), reached up and gave it a few shakes. It wasn't even particularly loud--a big disappointment.

Actually, I didn't think the symphony was quite as bad as I did the other couple of times I've heard it. Nott led it tightly, at a very quick pace, and that helped. Maybe, though, it was the distractions around me: the pair of whispering yuppie couples behind me, with the restless guy who kept nudging my wobbly seat with his foot, and the sniffling woman who kept rummaging in her purse, and the totally bored teenager next to us who couldn't sit still, and the cougher a couple rows back, and...oh forget it.

The best part of the evening was the brownie.