… but I’m not exactly in the dark. (I think this makes my third OMD-titled post. I can’t resist it when I’m sitting in Carnegie Hall being wowed by a beloved orchestra.)
Tonight is my final concert of the 22-23 season of the Philadelphia Orchestra. And the particular maneuvers that interest me tonight are the changes in seating for horns and winds.
I have a seat in a Second Tier box (because I’m spoiled and fancy like that), and tonight when I arrived I noticed that the last four boxes on both sides of the tier were closed … and set up with music stands and instruments. There were trumpets and French horns and bassoons and trombones … and what goes on? As people started coming to their seats, we were all wondering what could be happening over at the ends of the tier.
The second half of the performance was Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring (which he wrote when he was not yet 30 … I mean … damn). No one thought the curious arrangement of instruments could be for the Stravinsky, though.
The first piece to be performed was Vespers of the Blessed Earth, by John Luther Adams, a piece getting its New York premiere at tonight’s concert. And – among many other excellent things about this extraordinary piece for orchestra, chorus, and soprano soloist – it was Vespers that required the curious orchestral maneuvers.
If you have a chance to see this piece performed live, GO. It was just incredible. Some quick notes of things that wowed me:
Somehow he created the sound of walking in a cold and frozen landscape. I could feel the ice cracking, hear the wind.
The women in the chorus also played small, whirring instruments that looked like old-fashioned noisemakers I remember from my childhood.
Those same women used their voices in the second movement to make the beautiful and melancholy sound of New Guinean fruit doves. In that same movement, the men’s voices sounded almost like the throat singers of Tuva.
Adams references the sixth extinction, naming the fourth of the five movements for the great dying-off we’ve created: “Litanies of the Sixth Extinction.” This movement would surely have been powerful even if I hadn’t read Elizabeth Kolbert’s book three times, but it was especially powerful given that fact. This was the movement that required the Second-Tier instruments. They played against one another from across the hall in a call-and-response style as the chorus sang the names of 193 threatened and endangered plants and animals (the golden frog!). That list of names is quite small compared to the number we’ve already lost. That list in tonight’s performance ended with … homo sapiens.
The final movement took my breath away. Meigui Zhang was the soloist, her gorgeous voice perfect in this piece. From the program notes:
The concluding “Aria of the Ghost Bird” revisits the sacred implications of birdsong and spiritual presence, but with a poignant, cautionary tone. In this movement, Adams sets musically the call of the now-extinct Kaua’i ‘Ō’ō bird (Moho braccatus) of Hawai’i. The composer transcribed the bird’s distinctive all from a 1987 recording of the last of the species – a male – singing for a female who would never come, but singing to the end nevertheless.
Christopher Gibbs 2023, Program Notes, Philadelphia Orchestra
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Sigh.
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