While it was the prospect of experiencing those mighty brass fanfares at either end of Leoš Janáček’s “Sinfonietta” that got my antennae vibrating – and the added enticement of Manuel de Falla’s music from “The Three-Cornered Hat” that sealed the deal – the soul of this weekend’s program of the New Jersey Festival Orchestra was laid bare in the second movement of Max Bruch’s Violin Concerto No. 1. That’s when soloist Xiao Wang – a former student of Joseph Silverstein at the Curtis Institute, who now serves on the faculty of the Manhattan School of Music – caressed the heartstrings with his warm vibrato.
Conversely, Wang also brought the greatest thrill last night with his encore: a virtuoso transcription of Franz Schubert’s nightmarish “Erlkönig” (“The Erl-King”), a welcome foretaste of Halloween. Schubert’s most famous lied, or one of them, is derived from a Goethe ballad about a father on a galloping horse, riding hard through the swirling mists of a sinister forest, his ailing child held close, as he attempts to conceal his mounting desperation with consoling words. The child hallucinates that he hears and sees the Erl-King, a presentiment of death, whose enticements to join him bring increasingly frantic outbursts from the feverish boy, begging his father to protect him.
Wang seduced, hypnotized, and stunned, much like the Erlkönig himself, with his technical mastery of the piece, which I assume must have been the transcription by 19th century virtuoso Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst. He conveyed not only the white-knuckle drama of the song, but also the distinctive voices of each of its principals – father, son, and unholy ghost – producing trick after trick from his violinist’s quiver. The galloping horse hoofs, the Erl-King’s sweetly alluring voice, the child’s mounting intensity were all conveyed through an unsuspected variety of color, harmonics, pizzicati, and jaw-dropping double-stops. Truly, it was a marvel to experience.
The encore was one of several unanticipated bonuses of the evening, as the Imperial Brass – an amateur group associated with the Presbyterian Church of Westfield – was given the stage following the Janáček for an unadvertised mini-concert of John Williams’ “Imperial March,” Erik Leidzén’s “Notturno Religioso,” and Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Procession of the Nobles,” under the direction of Ronald Waiksnoris. It always seems like the lower brass impress the most in these ensembles – I mean, they’ve got the trombones and euphoniums – while the higher instruments like the cornets and the trumpets sweat hard in navigating the showier passages.
Anyway, there’s something about the community brass band tradition, in that, though I admire it greatly, in theory, I confess, in practice, it often keeps me a little bit at arm’s length with its arrangements, especially with the baffling predilection for “wah-wah” that comes from over-employing mutes in the more lyrical passages. It must be a “brass thing.” That said, the group impressed and even thrilled when it was called on to bring the power.
Unfortunately, the brass was relegated to the balcony for the “Sinfonietta,” muting much of its effect, and I couldn’t help but wonder how much more impactful it would have been had the musicians been elevated on risers at the back of the stage.
Granted, the venue was the Presbyterian Church of Westfield (about an hour’s drive north of me), but the orchestra itself played on a platform of several feet. I understand it’s effort and expense, and who knows, maybe the church couldn’t accommodate such a thing, but it would have been so much more satisfying had the brass had its own platform at the rear.
That said, the orchestra itself, made up of presumably freelance musicians of very high quality (Westfield is easily accessible from New York and its pool of superior talent), acquitted itself well under the baton of its longtime music director David Wroe. The loss in the brass was more than compensated for by being up close to Janacek’s strings and, behind them, the nimble woodwinds.
After the brass band mini-concert, there was a brief intermission before the Bruch. Then came both suites from “The Three-Cornered Hat,” yet another Ballets Russes triumph, originally presented with choreography by Léonide Massine and costumes and designs by Pablo Picasso. I’ve heard this music played by larger bands, but here the orchestra performed with enough color and testosterone to effectively sell the score. It was instructive to have a sightline to the harp, which emphasized Falla’s sensitivity to color, which can sometimes get a little lost in all the preening.
I noted with bemusement that the concert was marketed as “The Gypsy Spirit” – are we even allowed to use the G-word anymore? – despite the fact that nothing on the program had any connection whatsoever to the Romani people. But hey, I don’t care, and I don’t think anyone else did either. There were no protestors, and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. As usual at these events, most of the audience was old enough that their conception of Gypsies was probably formed when having seen Maria Ouspenskaya as Maleva the fortuneteller in the Lon Chaney version of “The Wolfman.” I confess, though I’m still somehow younger, mine was too. (Hey, it’s better than the Port Authority.)
I’ve known about the New Jersey Festival Orchestra for a long time – from back in the days when it was still called the Westfield Symphony Orchestra, in fact. For a few years, they were providing live accompaniment to silent movies around Halloween. And not all of them were horror movies, mind you. In 2011, I was invited to give the preconcert talk for Douglas Fairbanks’ “The Iron Mask,” after the scheduled speaker fell off a horse. (I had written a newspaper article previewing the event, which must have been cursed since, on top of that, it had also been postponed because of a freak Halloween snowstorm!)
Two seasons ago, Wroe and his orchestra managed a luminous performance of Vaughan Williams’ Symphony No. 5, which I still recall in its visceral and spiritual impact, and for which I will be forever grateful.
I should probably add that while my seat was better than it might have been (in a cushioned pew probably seven rows from the stage, as opposed to in one of the side-pews under the curving balcony), the next time I attend at this venue, I will try for a seat in the rear balcony, which seems the optimal vantage point for this particular hall – which I have to say, is an impressive space, a truly lovely, uncluttered church with, it would seem, pretty good acoustics.
Summing up, it was a program of characterful music – except for the Bruch, not exactly overexposed – all well-played by a competent ensemble of skilled musicians. I don’t know about you, but I would happily travel an hour for that kind of experience. The program will be repeated at the Sieminski Theater in Basking Ridge, NJ, this afternoon at 2:30.
For more information – and to witness the building of the platform at the Westfield venue (through the magic of time-lapse photography) – visit the orchestra’s website.
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