Vingt Regards:XV. Good Vibrations

Regular readers know that I'm not in the concert-reviewing business; that beat is happily ceded to wordsmiths more practiced than I at spinning nimbuses of metaphor and poetry.

But Jeeeesus, this was something else.

Yes, the Simón Bolívar Youth Orchestra of Venezuela under Gustavo Dudamel is incredibly loud, so loud that the intense vibrations from the stage seemed to change the air pressure in the room, and made my eyes start watering and my sinuses fill up. Or maybe their performance just pushed some intensely emotional buttons in me. Four days after the fact and I'm still not sure which. Either way, it was extraordinary.

I suppose when you gather together 150 or so early 20-somethings brimming with unsettled humours to play unconstrained music, and a couple dozen of them are brass players (we're talking two rows of horns alone), the sheer volume of sound—when there's so much vibration you feel the sound on your skin—shouldn't be a surprise.

What is unexpected, however, is hearing two harps come through clearly when the entire string section—something like 90 (nineTY) instruments—is bowing away. Likewise, transparency of inner voices and balance of sound. Clarity of grace notes, for crissakes (can I just say, 24 firsts?)! Virtuosity—both the second movement and the end of the of the Shostakovich 10 were crazy fast, yet I never felt like the truck was rolling of the side of the road. And strong—not perfect, but totally solid—principals in all sections (read: no horn clams)!

Anyone can loosen the reins and give 150 people the freedom to to play loud—and, let's be honest here, loud sure is a lot of fun. But the credit for getting them to play with both precision and abandon at the same time has to fall with Dudamel, who btw took all of his bows standing amongst the orchestral musicians, never elevated on the podium (even though he's a member of the I-guess-I-thought-he'd-be-taller club).

And I hope no one takes this wrong way, but I have to say it: after all these years of the West Side Story dances being conducted and played by (again, let's be honest here) often profoundly uncool people, these pieces sounded completely different—in rhythm, in gesture, in affect—in the hands of a conductor and players who have, shall we say, other musical perspectives.

The only downside of the performance, for me, was the length of the program, which was drawn out by the anonymous set of "Latin American Music." No one knew how many pieces there would be, so basically after each work there was yet another standing ovation because we figured that had to be it, right? So by the time we hit the Ginastera Estancia dances, my ears were fatigued by the constant wall of sound (and my legs were tired from the constant up-and-down).

Even so, there's no dulling the effect of the first two pieces. And the encores were as we all expected, with complete pandemonium breaking out on stage, which naturally everyone loved. I have to admit that it was too hammy for me; the crazy dancing at the end felt forced and put on for show. I was far more impressed by the less showy movement on stage during the Shostakovich and Bernstein. One only needed to watch their bodies moving freely to see a degree of honest, open engagement in music-making that, frankly, I've become unaccustomed to at orchestral performances.

Venezuelan pride was on display, not just on stage but in the audience as well. Discussions about this orchestra's success always seem to bring up the fact that many have serious problems with Venezuela's government's policies and actions. Isn't it unseemly for them to represent their country in such a jingoistic way?, the argument goes. It's a valid question, but surely we all know the feeling of being proud of one's family, school, state, country, for all of its (sometimes major) faults. I know I still represent for the US when I'm traveling, not for this administration's grossly misguided policies but for some broader American identity. And if the US had given me an opportunity to expand my view of the world and life's possibilities by sending me to London and Los Angeles and San Francisco to play Shostakovich and Mahler and Ginastera, using musical training that had been provided to me as a way to transform the circumstances of my life... Well, I have no doubt that I'd don a red, white and blue windbreaker too.

They have two more shows on this US tour, in Carnegie Hall on Sunday and Monday. I can imagine no excuse not to go if you can get your hands on a ticket. Last night was Boston, and roving TSR correspondent Sr. R— sent along this memento:

Confidential to Mlle XL: Thank you for coming through, yet again. Confidential to Sr. R—: M. C— is thanking you for sharing your html, css and javascript coding skills today; obviously my goal is to make TSR a glorified Facebook page.

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Vingt Regards / I. Strange Bedfellows / II. A New Era, Indeed / III. Hommage à Paolo Conte / IV. Hommage à S. Bar. / V. They Speak According to the Book / VI. Overheard in New York / VII. In Rotation: August 2007 / VIII. LA Phil's New Housemate / IX. Apples and Amoebas / X. Sunday in the Park with Bert / XI. Epilogue / XII. Taking Stock / XIII. De Quadratis Magicis / XIV. TSR's Guide to SF Elections

good lord, is 20 posts ever a lot. at least i had the presence of mind not to go with my original "33 short posts about M. C—" idea.

Comments

[Dave Irwin]

I wish I could have been there.

[patrick]

You underestimate your nimbus-spinning abilities. Sorry I missed this -- every year there has to be at least one sensational concert I miss, and it seems this was it. So much for trying to economize. And, to be honest, trying to avoid the West Side Story dances.