Triple Scotch, with rocks.

For whatever reason, it was a rough day at work, and I needed a little something tonight to take the edge off. Happily, the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra provided just what the doctor ordered, in the form of three savory rounds of various vintages at Carnegie Hall tonight.

First round was Peter Maxwell Davies's An Orkney Wedding, with Sunrise, a wry, spicy concert piece that depicts precisely what its title suggests: a windy opening, a genteel greeting, a folk dance that builds over the course of a night's revelry, then fragments into boozy lurches. In the end, the celebrants stagger out into a glorious dawn; a Highland bagpiper who marches in from behind the throng can't fail to win applause. I was frankly amazed by this conductorless ensemble's ability to keep so wild a score stitched tight -- I might have wished for a tad more tonal plushness, but not a wee dram more rhythmic acuity.

Second round was James MacMillan's Veni, Veni, Emmanuel, that rare percussion concerto in which mere flash is not the chief aim. Orchestral accompaniment based on religious plainchant imbues the work with a powerfully somber air, animated by the bracing rhythms of early Stravinsky and the metallic shimmer of not-quite early John Adams, circa The Chairman Dances and Short Ride in a Fast Machine. Still, the piece hardly stints on bravura, which Evelyn Glennie, its commissioner, supplied in abundance. She raced from gongs and vibraphone at stage left to a batterie of toms, bongos, congas and kick drum at stage right, stopping in between for a quasi-melodic interlude on woodblocks and cowbells. As a formerly active percussionist, I was often awestruck; Glennie's industry is beautiful to behold, her face telegraphing some moves while seemingly registering surprise at others. Her technique is somehow both florid and economical -- it would take a PowerPoint-aided lecture to illustrate just how. A middle section made strong use of her lyrical touch on marimba, playing lines with which she occasionally sang along quietly. A boisterous final stretch culminated in a brilliantly conceived and executed conclusion, during which orchestral players pinged on tiny chimes hung from their music stands while Glennie mounted a towering scaffold upstage to toll a busy ostinato on tubular bells. A lengthy, surprisingly uninterrupted stretch of resonant silence was followed by a boisterous ovation, punctuated by both mannered bravos and rock-concert hoots.

After a break to regain some bit of composure, the third round arrived: Felix Mendelssohn's Symphony No. 3, his "Scottish." Famously inspired by a visit to the British isles in 1829, the piece wasn't finished until 1842, by which time pictorial memory had perhaps been augmented by the picturesque literature of Walter Scott. Mendelssohn's storm-rocked first movement seemingly presages the turbulent swells of Wagner's Flying Dutchman overture. The second is a playful dance, the third a stately evocation of chivalrous fanfare; the finale seems to conjoin the concluding movements of Beethoven's Fifth and Sixth Symphonies. Orpheus provided a well conceived, lively account of the work. If some of the finer contours blurred just a bit, that's probably to be expected in the waning moments of so heady an evening.

The program notes, I must say, added rather a lot to the overall experience. Interviews with Maxwell Davies, Glennie and Orpheus bassist Donald Palma (the last of which pertained to Mendelssohn) lent a personal dimension to each item on the bill. An additional essay in which spirits connoisseur Ray Deter, proprietor of East Village drinking hole d.b.a., offered a suggested Scotch whisky to accompany each piece was definitely a provocative touch -- although I must leave it to other audience members (Mr. Oteri?) to confirm the accuracy of Deter's suggestions. In a rather clever cross-marketing notion, one might pop into d.b.a. through April 8 and order a flight of the recommended accompaniments at a discount by presenting tonight's concert program. (Carnegie Hall understandably required Orpheus to abstain from mentioning specific labels in Deter's essay as it appeared in the evening's program, but all is revealed in the version to which I linked, on the ensemble's website.)

Comments

[Marc Geelhoed]

Glad to hear the Maxwell Davies is traveling. Played it in college (the alternating solos in both trumpet parts, too, since we couldn't scrounge up a second) and had a blast with it. A couple Scotches beforehand would've made it even more fun!