People keep asking me what my favorite edition of the festival is (out of the seventeen I’ve experienced) … a question I can’t answer. There’s no way to meaningfully distill or quantify any festival’s cumulative greatness. I can name for you many memorable moments from past festivals: exciting, life-changing events Like Maestro Villaume’s explosive chemistry with his Spoleto Festival Orchestra players in Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring a few years back. The feeling of all those raw decibels pinning us to our seats and pummeling our ears like a sonic prop-blast is something I’ll never forget. Indeed, each festival has its shining moments, and – occasionally – lackluster ones.
Most festivals have their daring artistic experiments, too: some succeed gloriously; others fizzle — and there’s often lots of heated controversy as to their artistic merits. Case in point: our recent two-festival run of Mozart’s Don Giovanni at the old Memminger. Sure, it had its weak spots — but it also opened up a whole new world of interpretive and staging possibilities for a very great, but petrified old classic. I adored it, yet more than a few grumpy old purists stalked out with their noses in the stratosphere.
So, how’s an overwhelmed arts junky supposed to sort it all out? Well, that’s what folks like us in the journalism business are here for. We’re the lucky ones that get to see almost everything (I got tickets to nearly 30 classical events), all the better to sift and compare and evaluate. Robert has already shared his personal festival “cherries” with you below, concentrating on the Piccolo End. So, in the rapidly receding wake of another wonderful Spoleto, kindly bear with me as I attempt to do the same for you regarding the big festival’s recently ended classical onslaught. Don’t look for pat, order-of-excellence rankings here; you can’t stack up single events alongside entire series.
Let me begin with opera. It’s going on three weeks since I saw both of this year’s offerings. As a piece of pure, fluffy entertainment, you can’t beat La Cenerentola, one of Rossini’s comic masterpieces. With the right people delivering it, can be pure delight — and that’s just what we got this year. Young Maestro Matteo Beltrami, his cast and his orchestra delivered the musical goods – and a brilliant production team made the rest of it memorable. I gave it an A-plus.
So then, why is Amistad (it got an A-minus from me) the one that continues to haunt me? Despite Anthony Davis’s extensive rewrite, the opera remains flawed: especially in the second act, where the onstage going gets a bit tedious. Still, I could always fall back on Davis’s delicious and stimulating music to stave off boredom. Maestro Villaume and his players were well-nigh the consistent stars of the show for me, despite some shattering vocal high points — like Cinque’s bluesy outcry and the Goddess of the Waters’ other-worldly aria. The captive girl’s wailing lament at the loss of her freedom and the suckling baby she had to leave behind was one of the festival’s most emotionally overwhelming moment for me (I cried). The chorus had some electrifying moments, too. It also dished up deep questions and personal attitudes that were both disturbing and uplifting. Only at Spoleto would a work like this get a second chance — and I’m glad they took it.
How about the choral-orchestral end? Well, the first of the big orchestral gigs impressed mightily, with David Newman’s big, brassy (and very cinematic) Concerto for Winds. Great music for the ages? I wonder — but it certainly engaged and entertained, with its kaleidoscopic orchestral effects and breathtaking solo work of the fabulous, all-African-American Imani Winds: this year’s biggest breath of fresh instrumental air. The final faithful and ear-pleasing rendition of Brahms beloved Symphony No. 1 made for a luxurious sonic and emotional wallow. I can’t remember when Maestro Villaume and his “orchestra of virtuosos” have failed to please.
But it’s the later big-band show that stands out: No, I didn’t get seasick in Debussy’s La Mer, but its lush musical voyage was the stuff of fantasy… simply magical. Bartok’s big bruiser of a piano concerto (his No. 2) was almost impossible to play – for both orchestra and soloist. But pianist Andrew von Oeyen and friends battered us nearly senseless with it … to borrow from my review, “it hurt so goood.” The Maestro and his minions had the musical sparks flying in Stravinsky’s Firebird Suite, too. You don’t often hear this kind of orchestral brilliance and passion … not even from the best big-city bands. ‘Twas a triumph all around.
The two choral events were also remarkable. The fabled Westminster Choir starred in both, on top of chorus duties in both operas. The big orchestral affair, with Dr. Joseph Flummerfelt leading a hybrid choir (the WC plus the Charleston Symphony Chorus) and four excellent soloists, enchanted and uplifted with Beethoven’s Mass in C and two shorter German gems. Dr. Joe Miller and his wonderful Westminster voices (undiluted this time) sang by themselves in a pair of glowing concerts that — as always — define the loftiest state of the choral art.
Just as enjoyable were the nine (out of eleven) ever-popular Chamber series programs that I made it to this year. Memminger auditorium — serving for the first time as its temporary home — is a versatile venue that can — at need — accommodate many kinds of music or theater. But its sharp, high-ceilinged acoustics were hardly ideal for the subtleties of the genre (and downright hostile to heavy piano sound). It’ll do, for as long as we need it – but I’ll be glad when the series goes back home to Dock Street.
That said, every program had fresh delights to offer, as de-mystified and brought down to earth by host Charles Wadsworth. Even though it was all special, I won’t inflict the huge, eleven-program laundry list upon you — but let me share a few high points. This year’s array featured a number of larger-scale works, and every one of them was a revelation (the first time I’ve heard any of ‘em live). The Beethoven Septet and (especially) the Schubert Octet were wonderful treats; Erno Dohnanyi’s half-crazy Sextet in C Major was a happy discovery. We even got three choice baroque concertos. I thrilled to Daniel Philips’ searing go at Bach’s deathless Chaconne: probably the greatest single work we have for solo violin. I’d probably be weeping into my keyboard about now over the final program’s stunning rendition of Schubert’s “Cello Quintet” — but I wasn’t there; instead I got blown away by proxy (see Mike Hanf’s guest blog just below)
Wadsworth’s more modern selections are usually well-received — and this year was no exception. Everybody loved the two duos (including the winsome Flute Sonata) from the inimitable Francis Poulenc. Even a plucky little bassoon-viola duet from the often forbidding Elliot Carter got warm response. But the modern highlight for me was the series’ most divisive number: R. Murray Schafer’s stunning third string quartet (blogged about in detail below), a piece that seesaws from profundity to hilarious insanity and back again. I loved it, and so did quite a few others — but there were definitely some unhappy campers in those audiences.
Many cherished regulars (global A-list, all) came back this year — I was especially glad to see wonder-cellist Alisa Weilerstein return, after a festival away. But joining them was an especially large complement of often unusual instrumentalists needed for the multitude of BIG pieces this time ’round: like fab French horn Player Eric Ruske – and Peter Kolkay, the best bassoonist I’ve ever heard live. Other brilliant newbies were supremely versatile keyboard whiz Pedja Muzijevic (doubling on piano and harpsichord) and violinist Yoon Kwon — whose rapturous playing you won’t believe until you hear it. I can’t remember when last we heard a tenor in this series — but we got a glorious one in Paul Groves, who beguiled us in four straight programs with his clarion tone and seductive expressiveness. Woncha PLEEASE bring ‘em back, Doc W?
And the good doctor will be bringing his ever-amazing musicians back just one more time; you may have heard that he’ll retire after next year’s festival, when we will also celebrate both his 50th anniversary with Spoleto (including the Italian original) as well as his 80th birthday. Heir apparent is mega-violinist (and mega-personality) Geoff Nuttall, of the evergreen St. Lawrence String Quartet (the one who wears cowboy boots and needs a seat belt when he performs). Geoff has already been dubbed the series’ associate director, and his pre-concert remarks to the audience (we heard more of him than ever this year) reassured us that wit, un-stuffy analysis and even the occasional touch of goofiness will still be a part of the show after (sniffle!) the baton is passed. I’ve met him – he’s a very pleasant fellow.
Spoleto’s late-afternoon hours were intermittently filled by the ever-worthwhile Intermezzi series, specializing in smaller-scale orchestral pleasures and larger chamber attractions. You can also enjoy assorted instrumental or vocal recitals here; it varies from year to year. The remaining choices were the more challenging Music in Time series concerts. These events, specializing in the cutting-edge music of NOW, don’t always attract the biggest crowds — but the avant-garde faithful usually make for a decent audience. As usual, both of these programs pursued certain recurring festival themes & practices — like exploring the “other” music of featured opera composers, and borrowing the finest singers and performers from the festivals larger events.
Intermezzi highlights included the pleasing pair of late symphonies from Haydn and Mozart in the first two programs, plus JS Bach’s heady ‘Ricerar’ from his Musical Offering in Anton Webern’s lush arrangement. The third program’s two-piece tribute to Ralph Vaugan Williams (The Lark Ascending and Tuba Concerto) was something special. Program IV’s smashing vocal recital, with Amistad stars Mary Elizabeth Williams and Gregg Baker singing Gershwin standards, was the most memorable evening of the lot.
Music in Time gave us a wide-ranging look at various kinds of music from Amistad composer Anthony Davis over several evenings (one of his pieces also made it into an Intermezzi program). In all, it was the most thorough exploration of a Spoleto opera composer I can recall. It was part of this festival’s emphasis this year on Afro-American artists (Amistad, Imani Winds, etc.). Program II was a particular pleasure, featuring the eloquent music of series host John Kennedy, Steve Martland and Somei Satoh: the latter’s Glimmering Darkness was almost a spiritual experience.
The ebullient and accomplished Imani Winds got their own memorable recital; their best offerings were by Gyorgy Ligeti and jazz giant Wayne Shorter, plus Portraits of Josephine, by Valerie Coleman, the group’s flutist. I was also very glad to deepen my acquaintance with Ingram Marshall’s affecting music (also in Intermezzi). My most amazing MIT experience was when I got to immerse myself for around eighty minutes in For Philip Guston, a four-and-a-half-hour number by Morton Feldman that offers an infinite range of cognitive (and meditative) experience. It was a gentle, but deep dive through several dimensions. I grieve that I couldn’t stay for the whole thing.
Well, there you have it: one man’s wild, ecstatic (and practically sleepless) ride through another Spoleto deluge of first-rate classical music. If you want to know more about any event I’ve mentioned, simply scroll down — it’s all there. I hope my computer woes (I’ll pick up my new laptop tomorrow) haven’t cramped my style or enthusiasm as much as they affected my productivity. Still, I am blessed among men to have heard nearly all of it.
If I’ve sounded more like a musical cheerleader than a critic in these cyberpages, just remember that this festival — perhaps more than any other — combs the known universe for the very finest productions and performers alike, while exploring the cream of every classical genre. For a little over a fortnight each year, not even New York’s arts scene can top Chucktown’s. We’ve gotten spoiled rotten over the years by both the range and the relentless excellence of Spoleto’s classical scene.
May I finish with a gush of gratitude to my City Paper editorial team: Stef, Chris and John (among others): — THANKS for entrusting this awesome mission to me, and providing the means to tackle the year’s biggest and most thrilling artistic overload. Kudos are also due to the irrepressible Robert Bondurant, thanks to whom my humble blog also gave you a pretty thorough (and enthusiastic) look at the best from Piccolo Spoleto. My hat’s off as well to guest bloggers Sam Sfirri and Mike Hanf for being there to cover what I could not. Sincere danke schoens are further due to Ashley and Casey of the festival’s PR office, who helped me through some thorny ticket crises. Finally, my love and profuse thanks go out to YOU, my faithful readers, for tagging along. I hope you enjoyed the ride.
I’ll look back and laugh someday at my concurrent crises this time: the theft of my laptop early on, plus the loss of my day job with the (sob!) closing of Millennium Music (come back soon for my upcoming, nostalgia-ridden post about that wonderful place; SO much more than just a store). My precious memories of this (and other) Spoletos will soon bury such petty concerns … especially once my usual sense of childlike anticipation of next year’s festival kicks in. Meanwhile, come fall, there’ll be Chucktown’s own rich classical scene to feed on: more than enough to tide me over.
And, should you ever require the services of a well-seasoned professional classical geek, kindly let me know.
I recently went into Aster Hall to look for a birthday present for my girlfriend,…
-jake0035
Spoleto’s Special Sparklers: Lindsay’s Classical Picks
People keep asking me what my favorite edition of the festival is (out of the seventeen I’ve experienced) … a question I can’t answer. There’s no way to meaningfully distill or quantify any festival’s cumulative greatness. I can name for you many memorable moments from past festivals: exciting, life-changing events Like Maestro Villaume’s explosive chemistry with his Spoleto Festival Orchestra players in Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring a few years back. The feeling of all those raw decibels pinning us to our seats and pummeling our ears like a sonic prop-blast is something I’ll never forget. Indeed, each festival has its shining moments, and – occasionally – lackluster ones.
Most festivals have their daring artistic experiments, too: some succeed gloriously; others fizzle — and there’s often lots of heated controversy as to their artistic merits. Case in point: our recent two-festival run of Mozart’s Don Giovanni at the old Memminger. Sure, it had its weak spots — but it also opened up a whole new world of interpretive and staging possibilities for a very great, but petrified old classic. I adored it, yet more than a few grumpy old purists stalked out with their noses in the stratosphere.
So, how’s an overwhelmed arts junky supposed to sort it all out? Well, that’s what folks like us in the journalism business are here for. We’re the lucky ones that get to see almost everything (I got tickets to nearly 30 classical events), all the better to sift and compare and evaluate. Robert has already shared his personal festival “cherries” with you below, concentrating on the Piccolo End. So, in the rapidly receding wake of another wonderful Spoleto, kindly bear with me as I attempt to do the same for you regarding the big festival’s recently ended classical onslaught. Don’t look for pat, order-of-excellence rankings here; you can’t stack up single events alongside entire series.
Let me begin with opera. It’s going on three weeks since I saw both of this year’s offerings. As a piece of pure, fluffy entertainment, you can’t beat La Cenerentola, one of Rossini’s comic masterpieces. With the right people delivering it, can be pure delight — and that’s just what we got this year. Young Maestro Matteo Beltrami, his cast and his orchestra delivered the musical goods – and a brilliant production team made the rest of it memorable. I gave it an A-plus.
So then, why is Amistad (it got an A-minus from me) the one that continues to haunt me? Despite Anthony Davis’s extensive rewrite, the opera remains flawed: especially in the second act, where the onstage going gets a bit tedious. Still, I could always fall back on Davis’s delicious and stimulating music to stave off boredom. Maestro Villaume and his players were well-nigh the consistent stars of the show for me, despite some shattering vocal high points — like Cinque’s bluesy outcry and the Goddess of the Waters’ other-worldly aria. The captive girl’s wailing lament at the loss of her freedom and the suckling baby she had to leave behind was one of the festival’s most emotionally overwhelming moment for me (I cried). The chorus had some electrifying moments, too. It also dished up deep questions and personal attitudes that were both disturbing and uplifting. Only at Spoleto would a work like this get a second chance — and I’m glad they took it.
How about the choral-orchestral end? Well, the first of the big orchestral gigs impressed mightily, with David Newman’s big, brassy (and very cinematic) Concerto for Winds. Great music for the ages? I wonder — but it certainly engaged and entertained, with its kaleidoscopic orchestral effects and breathtaking solo work of the fabulous, all-African-American Imani Winds: this year’s biggest breath of fresh instrumental air. The final faithful and ear-pleasing rendition of Brahms beloved Symphony No. 1 made for a luxurious sonic and emotional wallow. I can’t remember when Maestro Villaume and his “orchestra of virtuosos” have failed to please.
But it’s the later big-band show that stands out: No, I didn’t get seasick in Debussy’s La Mer, but its lush musical voyage was the stuff of fantasy… simply magical. Bartok’s big bruiser of a piano concerto (his No. 2) was almost impossible to play – for both orchestra and soloist. But pianist Andrew von Oeyen and friends battered us nearly senseless with it … to borrow from my review, “it hurt so goood.” The Maestro and his minions had the musical sparks flying in Stravinsky’s Firebird Suite, too. You don’t often hear this kind of orchestral brilliance and passion … not even from the best big-city bands. ‘Twas a triumph all around.
The two choral events were also remarkable. The fabled Westminster Choir starred in both, on top of chorus duties in both operas. The big orchestral affair, with Dr. Joseph Flummerfelt leading a hybrid choir (the WC plus the Charleston Symphony Chorus) and four excellent soloists, enchanted and uplifted with Beethoven’s Mass in C and two shorter German gems. Dr. Joe Miller and his wonderful Westminster voices (undiluted this time) sang by themselves in a pair of glowing concerts that — as always — define the loftiest state of the choral art.
Just as enjoyable were the nine (out of eleven) ever-popular Chamber series programs that I made it to this year. Memminger auditorium — serving for the first time as its temporary home — is a versatile venue that can — at need — accommodate many kinds of music or theater. But its sharp, high-ceilinged acoustics were hardly ideal for the subtleties of the genre (and downright hostile to heavy piano sound). It’ll do, for as long as we need it – but I’ll be glad when the series goes back home to Dock Street.
That said, every program had fresh delights to offer, as de-mystified and brought down to earth by host Charles Wadsworth. Even though it was all special, I won’t inflict the huge, eleven-program laundry list upon you — but let me share a few high points. This year’s array featured a number of larger-scale works, and every one of them was a revelation (the first time I’ve heard any of ‘em live). The Beethoven Septet and (especially) the Schubert Octet were wonderful treats; Erno Dohnanyi’s half-crazy Sextet in C Major was a happy discovery. We even got three choice baroque concertos. I thrilled to Daniel Philips’ searing go at Bach’s deathless Chaconne: probably the greatest single work we have for solo violin. I’d probably be weeping into my keyboard about now over the final program’s stunning rendition of Schubert’s “Cello Quintet” — but I wasn’t there; instead I got blown away by proxy (see Mike Hanf’s guest blog just below)
Wadsworth’s more modern selections are usually well-received — and this year was no exception. Everybody loved the two duos (including the winsome Flute Sonata) from the inimitable Francis Poulenc. Even a plucky little bassoon-viola duet from the often forbidding Elliot Carter got warm response. But the modern highlight for me was the series’ most divisive number: R. Murray Schafer’s stunning third string quartet (blogged about in detail below), a piece that seesaws from profundity to hilarious insanity and back again. I loved it, and so did quite a few others — but there were definitely some unhappy campers in those audiences.
Many cherished regulars (global A-list, all) came back this year — I was especially glad to see wonder-cellist Alisa Weilerstein return, after a festival away. But joining them was an especially large complement of often unusual instrumentalists needed for the multitude of BIG pieces this time ’round: like fab French horn Player Eric Ruske – and Peter Kolkay, the best bassoonist I’ve ever heard live. Other brilliant newbies were supremely versatile keyboard whiz Pedja Muzijevic (doubling on piano and harpsichord) and violinist Yoon Kwon — whose rapturous playing you won’t believe until you hear it. I can’t remember when last we heard a tenor in this series — but we got a glorious one in Paul Groves, who beguiled us in four straight programs with his clarion tone and seductive expressiveness. Woncha PLEEASE bring ‘em back, Doc W?
And the good doctor will be bringing his ever-amazing musicians back just one more time; you may have heard that he’ll retire after next year’s festival, when we will also celebrate both his 50th anniversary with Spoleto (including the Italian original) as well as his 80th birthday. Heir apparent is mega-violinist (and mega-personality) Geoff Nuttall, of the evergreen St. Lawrence String Quartet (the one who wears cowboy boots and needs a seat belt when he performs). Geoff has already been dubbed the series’ associate director, and his pre-concert remarks to the audience (we heard more of him than ever this year) reassured us that wit, un-stuffy analysis and even the occasional touch of goofiness will still be a part of the show after (sniffle!) the baton is passed. I’ve met him – he’s a very pleasant fellow.
Spoleto’s late-afternoon hours were intermittently filled by the ever-worthwhile Intermezzi series, specializing in smaller-scale orchestral pleasures and larger chamber attractions. You can also enjoy assorted instrumental or vocal recitals here; it varies from year to year. The remaining choices were the more challenging Music in Time series concerts. These events, specializing in the cutting-edge music of NOW, don’t always attract the biggest crowds — but the avant-garde faithful usually make for a decent audience. As usual, both of these programs pursued certain recurring festival themes & practices — like exploring the “other” music of featured opera composers, and borrowing the finest singers and performers from the festivals larger events.
Intermezzi highlights included the pleasing pair of late symphonies from Haydn and Mozart in the first two programs, plus JS Bach’s heady ‘Ricerar’ from his Musical Offering in Anton Webern’s lush arrangement. The third program’s two-piece tribute to Ralph Vaugan Williams (The Lark Ascending and Tuba Concerto) was something special. Program IV’s smashing vocal recital, with Amistad stars Mary Elizabeth Williams and Gregg Baker singing Gershwin standards, was the most memorable evening of the lot.
Music in Time gave us a wide-ranging look at various kinds of music from Amistad composer Anthony Davis over several evenings (one of his pieces also made it into an Intermezzi program). In all, it was the most thorough exploration of a Spoleto opera composer I can recall. It was part of this festival’s emphasis this year on Afro-American artists (Amistad, Imani Winds, etc.). Program II was a particular pleasure, featuring the eloquent music of series host John Kennedy, Steve Martland and Somei Satoh: the latter’s Glimmering Darkness was almost a spiritual experience.
The ebullient and accomplished Imani Winds got their own memorable recital; their best offerings were by Gyorgy Ligeti and jazz giant Wayne Shorter, plus Portraits of Josephine, by Valerie Coleman, the group’s flutist. I was also very glad to deepen my acquaintance with Ingram Marshall’s affecting music (also in Intermezzi). My most amazing MIT experience was when I got to immerse myself for around eighty minutes in For Philip Guston, a four-and-a-half-hour number by Morton Feldman that offers an infinite range of cognitive (and meditative) experience. It was a gentle, but deep dive through several dimensions. I grieve that I couldn’t stay for the whole thing.
Well, there you have it: one man’s wild, ecstatic (and practically sleepless) ride through another Spoleto deluge of first-rate classical music. If you want to know more about any event I’ve mentioned, simply scroll down — it’s all there. I hope my computer woes (I’ll pick up my new laptop tomorrow) haven’t cramped my style or enthusiasm as much as they affected my productivity. Still, I am blessed among men to have heard nearly all of it.
If I’ve sounded more like a musical cheerleader than a critic in these cyberpages, just remember that this festival — perhaps more than any other — combs the known universe for the very finest productions and performers alike, while exploring the cream of every classical genre. For a little over a fortnight each year, not even New York’s arts scene can top Chucktown’s. We’ve gotten spoiled rotten over the years by both the range and the relentless excellence of Spoleto’s classical scene.
May I finish with a gush of gratitude to my City Paper editorial team: Stef, Chris and John (among others): — THANKS for entrusting this awesome mission to me, and providing the means to tackle the year’s biggest and most thrilling artistic overload. Kudos are also due to the irrepressible Robert Bondurant, thanks to whom my humble blog also gave you a pretty thorough (and enthusiastic) look at the best from Piccolo Spoleto. My hat’s off as well to guest bloggers Sam Sfirri and Mike Hanf for being there to cover what I could not. Sincere danke schoens are further due to Ashley and Casey of the festival’s PR office, who helped me through some thorny ticket crises. Finally, my love and profuse thanks go out to YOU, my faithful readers, for tagging along. I hope you enjoyed the ride.
I’ll look back and laugh someday at my concurrent crises this time: the theft of my laptop early on, plus the loss of my day job with the (sob!) closing of Millennium Music (come back soon for my upcoming, nostalgia-ridden post about that wonderful place; SO much more than just a store). My precious memories of this (and other) Spoletos will soon bury such petty concerns … especially once my usual sense of childlike anticipation of next year’s festival kicks in. Meanwhile, come fall, there’ll be Chucktown’s own rich classical scene to feed on: more than enough to tide me over.
And, should you ever require the services of a well-seasoned professional classical geek, kindly let me know.