is a far cry the ensemble of the future?


a far cry chamber orchestra
a far cry chamber orchestra


I’m not a professional writer of concert reviews, or much of anything, for that matter. I have written some program notes for the Oregon Symphony on occasion, but my skill set has more to do with performing music than with critically listening to others performing music (unless I’m giving a lesson or a coaching, that is). But sometimes there is a concert that just cries (sorry, no pun intended) out for a response, and so, without any sort of agenda on my part, here is my response.

If I were to characterize this concert in one sentence, I would do so as follows:

A Far Cry’s Sunday afternoon concert demonstrated that the future of classical music does not necessarily lie only in what music is performed, but also in how it is performed.

Here is what I mean by that statement. The concert was fairly conventional in terms of how its program was laid out. Active, fun, curtain-raiser piece (in this case Ljova’s Vjola Suite) which took various and sundry middle- and Eastern European folk idioms for a quick, and largely delightful, run around the park. Followed by a concerto (the Concerto for Violin, Double Bass, and String Orchestra by Kip Jones, who was also the violin soloist) which featured an unusual pairing of solo instruments, a tutti orchestra who sang while simultaneously playing, and some extended jamming by the two soloists. After the intermission, there was a short, meditative, work by Charles Ives (Largo cantabile: Hymn from A Set of Three Short Pieces), which was followed by a major work from the 19th century canon, an arrangement for string orchestra of Dvorak’s massive Quintet in E-flat major, Op. 97 “American”. So there was the very standard arrangement of light/short opener, concerto, short filler piece, major work that most chamber groups and symphony orchestras deploy on a regular basis as their template for a standard concert program.

The program was entitled “Melting Pot”, and in reflecting that theme, it was entirely successful. It was a program that worked beautifully on the page – music that reflects both immigrant and native influences on American music, and how these influences cross-pollinate to produce a sound and point of view that is uniquely ‘American’. If only the pieces had been strong enough to provide the emotional and intellectual underpinning that such a program really depends upon to provide an experience that is not only enjoyable, but is vital, vibrant, and life affirming.

The first half of the program was admirable in what it attempted to do, but, at least for myself, it did not quite succeed. Two pieces by living composers – young living composers, no less – is a boon, and I am of the belief that every major classical music presenter should include at least one contemporary piece of music on every program of their season, especially if they take public money as part of their funding. But I wished for pieces that were edited a bit more carefully – these two, especially the concerto, seemed to out stay their welcome by a good third of their length, to my ears. However, they were played with refreshing verve and virtuosity by both the orchestra and the two soloists, and they made as compelling a case as could be made for these two pieces, and I hope that their collaboration with Ljova and Kip Jones continues to bear fruit with music that both deepens and expands its sophistication.

The second half was another matter, as these were two masterpieces in their respective genres. The Ives was a new piece to me, and I would have loved to have heard the other two movements of the set on the program. The beautiful solo cello work of Karen Ouzounian was a highlight. The Dvorak quintet arrangement which closed the concert had me of two minds. While I enjoyed very much – as with the entire concert – the extremely high quality of the playing: full of musicality and focus, energy and contemplation – I must confess that I am rarely pleased with the expansion of chamber works into versions for string orchestra. The only example that I think truly works is Schoenberg’s own orchestration of his Transfigured Night, originally for string sextet, into a version for large string orchestra. There was a moment towards the close of the sublime Larghetto movement where the forces were pared down to the original five instruments, and I found myself relaxing and relishing the sound of the ensemble as originally intended by the composer.

So, back to my one sentence statement. What was revelatory about this performance? It wasn’t the repertoire, though that was interesting, and admirable in its intent. What I loved, and saw as vital in this performance to the future of classical music, was the energy and joy expressed in the music making. Here was an ensemble that was fully as fun and engaging to watch as any of the great chamber ensembles (and admittedly, not all of them – there are some great ensembles of the past and present that are a decided yawn to watch perform). They made use of the different levels of the stage platform at First Unitarian Church during the exuberant encore, making a moving tapestry of active performance, in stark contrast so many static performances that one is likely to encounter. Performers smiled as they played, exchanged knowing glances with one another, played off each others impulses, reacting with split-second timing with that instinctual musical impulse that cannot be taught or learned, but is the essence of the ‘gift’ of talent. There really is nothing worse that going to a concert and seeing people looking as though they are digging a ditch or asking if you’d ‘like fries with that’. Live performance is as much a visual experience as an aural one, and the Criers, who clearly have everything needed to produce the musical goods, also brought the joie de vivre that is essential to build and sustain classical music audiences long into the future.

4 Replies to “is a far cry the ensemble of the future?”

  1. Well written, Charles! You are clear and easy to understand but never simplistic.

    A thought on those two contemporary works: even award-winning prose writers work with an editor. Who edits a composer? I’ve had the same reaction on a number of occasions. Too many notes, Mr. or occasionally Ms. (fill in the blank.)

  2. You’d have to ask a composer that question, but from my interactions with them, it would seem that it largely depends upon whether or not they were formally taught by another composer. The major action of a composition teacher seems to be to challenge the validity of every note on the page, and to force the student to find their voice and make every note count. In the case of these two works, some careful editing and streamlining could have made both pieces much stronger, but that’s only my opinion. The audience ate every moment up, and it was a highly successful concert from their standpoint. And in the end, that’s what matters.

  3. Composers and editing, now there’s a subject. My catalog is small, but I do a lot of revision (a kind of self-editing) and have this thought. A simple answer is, even though people often say music is a language, it’s really not much of one. The structural layer that editors of text typically keep watch over barely exists in music, especially these days when there is no common practice in the way there was, say 150 years ago.

    Editing for length, that’s another question. I’ve heard five-minute songs that seemed too long, and yet I’m convinced that nearly every note of Wagner’s five-hour Tristan und Isolde pretty much belongs there. As Chaucer said, the life so short, the craft so long to learn.

    P.S. I much prefer the sextet version of Verklaerte Nacht even over Arnie’s orchestration. 🙂

    1. Thanks Jeff. Your observations make sense and are helpful. And I agree with you about Tristan – and O’Neill’s “Iceman” which takes almost as long in performance and creates its own singular and mesmeric universe.

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