Challenging program launches Philharmonic season

Marilyn Larocque

Monday, Oct. 6, 2003 | 8:25 a.m.

Weller has always stated that broadening the musical horizons of the audience is one of his goals, as is programming a concert that incorporates the tried and true with the new.

"The Spirit of America," performed at Artemus Ham Hall at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, fulfilled these objectives.

The first half of the program -- William Schuman's "New England Triptych" (1956) and Samuel Barber's Piano Concerto, Opus 38 (1962), with Korevaar as soloist -- was contemporary and dissonant.

The "Triptych" is a setting of three Revolutionary War-era songs attributed to William Billings. A tone poem, it is well suited to the sorrows and sacrifices of war.

The first song, "Be Glad Then, America," was introduced by the timpani and next by the bass clarinet, masterfully played by David Hawley. Wonderful brass harmonies and violins playing in unison were highlights of the section.

In the second movement, "When Jesus Wept," there was an immediate change of mood as a muffled drum, without metal snares, gave a funereal quality to the music. Adding to the lament was a bassoon solo, performed with sensitivity and melancholy by Maxine Klinger.

This was enhanced by the plaintive qualities of the oboe, played by Stephen Caplan. The violins introduced a beautiful lyric theme of longing and remembrance, followed by the mellow resonance of the cellos and string basses in a soulful evocation of caissons rolling somberly, bearing the dead.

"Chester," the third movement, expressed a hymn-like quality, with broad, flowing melodic lines, unexpectedly disrupted by high-pitched woodwinds in full, dissonant array. Brass and percussion joined forces in a purposeful buildup to the climax.

Barber's concerto, at times, went beyond dissonance to cacophony. Controlling the complexity and intensity of Barber's genius requires surviving the torrent of drama and musical complexity the composer has created. It demands a leap of faith from one note to the next. Nevertheless, this musical aerobics class was worth the pain.

In anticipation of the tour de force ahead of him, Korevaar leaned over the keyboard, poised to launch the concerto. His agile fingering was instantly apparent. He rippled through intricate passages effortlessly, in a sparse, controlled interaction with the keys, his body virtually motionless, as if conserving energy.

Korevaar need not take a back seat to the late John Browning, for whom the concerto was written. He, Weller and the orchestra gave a brilliant virtuoso performance. In the first movement, Moderato, Korevaar's hands started at opposite ends of the keyboard in strident, pounding chords, then met in the middle, only to hopscotch away from each other, ending in a frantic run up the scale to the highest notes on the keyboard.

In contrast, the second movement, Canzone, began with a simple, graceful flute solo, expertly crafted by Richard Soule, against a pizzicato and shimmering string background. The piano's entrance reflected this more tranquil mood. Again, there were gliding arpeggios in the left hand while the right pursued a light and wistful course in the treble notes.

The strings, with concertmaster DeAnn Letourneau leading them in exemplary fashion, displayed silken, honeyed strands of music against the ever-dazzling piano.

The frenzied dissonance of the third movement, Allegro Molto, stressed an incessant beat in the left hand of the piano, then trombones and then trumpets, which were suddenly interrupted by notes of a xylophone.

Barber pulled out all the stops for the finale. The lower Korevaar hovered over the keyboard, the more warning that a musical storm was brewing. Pounding chords and sprints from one end of the keyboard to the other brought the work, and the first portion of the program, to a dynamic, spine-tingling conclusion.

Audience enthusiasm was a split vote, with half on their feet cheering and applauding loudly, the other half remaining in their seats with polite, but subdued, response.

Dvorak's "New World Symphony" (1893), which comprised the second half of the program, was both a stylistic 180 and soothing, familiar antidote to the Schuman and Barber.

The piece abounds in familiar themes and flowing melodies depicting open spaces and folk imagery. There were richly textured sonorities in the strings. The French horns, except for a few burbles, resonated in grand harmonies, as did the rest of the brass section. Kelly Williams' English horn interpretation of the famous theme in the second movement sounded like the player was standing on a mountaintop, with the music floating to the valley below.

Weller and the orchestra handled the tricky rhythms and pauses flawlessly. There was, however, an undercurrent of fatigue, understandable after the rigors of the earlier works and rehearsals both Friday night and Saturday morning.

Nevertheless, there was no question that the audience felt at home in this musical "new world." The standing "O" at the end of the concert was unanimous.