Music review: VSO evening of new music premieres rewarded with enthusiastic standing O
Alongside new work by Torontonian Linda Catlin Smith, the program included works by American new-music legends John Adams, Steve Reich, and Philip Glass
Otto Tausk.
DESPITE WHAT YOUR social media feed may have led you to believe, there was more than just that one big concert taking place in downtown Vancouver this past Friday evening.
While some 55,000+ Taylor Swift acolytes packed in and around B.C. place to exchange friendship bracelets and worship at the altar of pop superstardom, a less sequined crowd battled their way through the hordes to get to the Orpheum, where they were treated to a rare program of new music by Vancouver Symphony Orchestra that included the Canadian premiere of Steve Reich’s Jacob’s Ladder and the B.C. premiere of Philip Glass’s Symphony No. 11.
Before diving into those two monumental works, there were other musical explorations on the roster. The concert opened with the world premiere of Linda Catlin Smith’s Mountain, an entrancing work commissioned by the VSO from the Toronto-based composer. The evocative piece set lyrical solo violin, performed with exquisite care by concertmaster Nicholas Wright, amidst an ever-shifting expanse of textures and tones that slowly ebbed and flowed. This being part of the VSO’s Musically Speaking series, the audience was able to hear directly from the composer, who described the work, simply, as a “drifty, dreamy kind of piece”, adding, “I like it in music when I get a bit lost.”
Next came John Adams’s Gnarly Buttons, a virtuosic concerto for clarinet and chamber ensemble, with principal clarinetist Jeanette Jonquil in the spotlight. A rather eccentric work, full of twisting—and, yes, gnarly—melodic lines, it was something of a marathon for Jonquil, whose warm tone and indefatigable versatility never faltered, despite playing almost continuously throughout the three-movement work. Adams imbued the work with Americana, writing in a few unconventional instruments, at least as far as symphonic fare goes: banjo, mandolin, and guitar, along with two sampling keyboards. Most delightful was the second movement, “Hoedown (Mad Cow)” which, as its title suggests, was something of a deconstructed barn dance that included, improbably, a bovine moo.
Following the intermission came one of the most anticipated works of the evening—Reich’s newest work Jacob’s Ladder, expertly performed by a small chamber group of VSO players and four remarkably clear voices from Synergy Vocals “close-microphone” vocal ensemble. Commissioned in part by the VSO (alongside a number of groups including the New York Philharmonic, Radio France, BBC Radio 3, among others), the hypnotic piece interprets Hebrew text from the book of Genesis, in which Jacob dreams of a ladder connecting heaven and earth. The piece is quintessential Reich, employing repetitive musical “cells” and intermittent pentatonic flurries across woodwinds and marimbas, punctuated by impeccably pure, vibrato-less voices in perfect intonation. In the composer’s program notes, he described how “the instrumental music interprets the movement of messenger/angels going up, down, or pausing on a ladder (or ladders) between heaven and earth”. Unlike some of his other works, here we heard only the musicians on stage—no pre-recorded interviews or looped sounds—and the overall effect was one of a ceaselessly undulating momentum.
Finally came the evening’s top billing: Glass’s Symphony No. 11, written in 2017 for a massive orchestra. The percussion section alone requires snare, tenor, and bass drums; hi-hat; suspended cymbal; three tom-toms; along with glockenspiel, xylophone, and vibraphone—on top of timpani, celesta, piano, and a pair of harps. Little wonder that it hasn’t been undertaken here before.
The first movement opened gradually, with harps plucking a repetitive 5/4 three-note pattern, punctuated by unison horns and cymbal, over which creep in ominous deep brass chords. This sense of foreboding gave way, with a cutting snare rhythm, to a fluttering of strings and declamatory woodwind ascending and descending lines. The movement shifted between major and minor textures, with the percussion always at the fore, before fading with a swift deceleration of the snare drum and a return to opening harp lines.
The second movement began with delicate pulsing strings and reflective woodwinds, before picking up speed into a jolly, driving pulse, putting the five percussionists through their paces. The third opened with a militaristic snare drill, joined by hissing shaker, clanging anvil, clacking wood blocks—the works. Driving repetitive motifs in the strings built, with an unrelenting forward momentum, to a percussive climax of pumping polyrhythms.
Maestro Tausk guided the work with focused intensity—eagle-eyed attendees could spot him counting out repetitions with his left hand—as the strings, woodwinds, and brass gamely kept pace with the stellar percussion section. Could it have been a little crisper, tighter? Possibly. But that hardly mattered, as they were rewarded with a rousing standing ovation, bringing Tausk out for three curtain calls. Eat your hearts out, Swifties. 
Related Articles
