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San Diego ArtsLa Jolla Summerfest: From Rome to Russia with LoveRouse is in the house By Christian Hertzog • Thu, Aug 11th, 2005For the past few years, Summerfest has brought an astounding array of well-known contemporary composers to La Jolla. (I think they hit the jackpot in 2002 when Esa-Pekka Salonen, John Harbison, and John Adams all appeared). This year, they’ve tapered back on the big names, going with two light, audience-friendly composers (Lalo Shifrin and Mark O’Connor). The heavy hitter for Summerfest 2005 is Christopher Rouse, and heavy is an appropriate word to describe his music. In a pre-concert talk, he half-jokingly cited a Mark Twain quote that could be his motto: “Whatever is worth doing, is worth doing to excess.” His music thunders and roars at impossibly fast speeds, or faintly whispers in agonizingly slow rhythms. In the 1980s, he was obsessed with writing savage allegros, and in the 1990s, his music became tragic, a series of slow, grim cenotaphs for deceased acquaintances. Whatever direction Rouse’s music takes, you can bet that it will challenge the listener’s endurance and/or patience. This is meant as a compliment. In his best works, Rouse pushes you to the very edge (of hysteria, mourning, anger, ecstasy), testing your emotional limits. It is definitely not safe music. This may suggest that his music is frighteningly complex. While it can be extremely rough-edged, there’s a directness to his music which is responsible for its popularity with audiences, and this has resulted in a long string of commissions. (Festival Director Cho Liang Lin wanted Rouse to write a new piece for Summerfest; Rouse replied that Summerfest would have to “get in line” and wait 6 to 8 years before he could complete a piece for them). Rouse is best known for his orchestral music; he estimated that chamber music (at least the works which haven’t been withdrawn, of which there are a large number) makes up about 5% of his output. Neither of the works featured on the August 9 program have been recorded, making this concert especially welcome. The La Jolla Civic Symphony and the San Diego Symphony have programmed Rouse’s music, but I don’t believe he’s ever visited San Diego, making his appearance and pre-concert talk all the more reason to attend Tuesday’s concert. The program was titled “From Rome to Russia with Love,” but it more accurately started in Russia (Rouse’s String Quartet no. 2), briefly moved to France (Ravel’s Introduction and Allegro), stayed in Rome a while (Rouse’s Compline), and concluded with the German gemütlichkeit of the Brahms Horn Trio. Rouse wrote his String Quartet no. 2 for the Cleveland Quartet’s tour through the Soviet Union. Impressed during an earlier trip by the genuine warmth and cheerfulness of the Russians he met, Rouse decided to repay their kindness with a musical tribute. Rouse used the motive of D-E flat-C-B throughout his quartet, the autobiographical musical signature of Dmitri Shostakovich (in German, the note E flat is called “S”, and the Germans transliterate his last name as “Schostakowitsch”, giving him the musical initials D. Sch.). In Shostakovich’s Eighth Quartet, the listener is pounded over the head with D-E flat-C-B. Rouse’s use was much more subtle. However, the expressive shape of the quartet was very reminiscent of Shostakovich: a lengthy and slow beginning movement, followed by a maniacal fast movement, concluding with another long slow movement (which divides into two distinct sections). When it comes to writing harrowing, violent prestos, Rouse is second to none, but I find his adagios much less convincing. Such is the case in his Second Quartet. The first movement proceeds nicely with short motives repeatedly piling up one-by-one into a web of melancholy, culminating in several loud cadences. This is followed by the expressionistic outburst of the second movement, appropriately marked “Agitato.” Here the music sputters and flies out of control at an unbelievably fast tempo, with further hysteria projected by the extreme contrasts in volume and the abrasive harmonies. The Calder Quartet, a group of extremely talented musicians still in their twenties, dizzily navigated Rouse’s musical hairpin turns in this movement. (One of the players confessed earlier on the radio that they can’t play the second movement at the speed Rouse requests; if these virtuosic gentlemen can’t do it, I doubt that anyone can). After the gripping middle, Rouse lost me in the last movement. It starts off as another brooding slow movement, coming to a dramatic climax on a series of chords hammered out by all four musicians. The slow journey to these hammer strokes wasn’t as engaging as the earlier movements. More strangely, the heavily chromatic music inexplicably breaks through into a major key, and continues in this key (with a few harmonic distortions) until the end. Although triads made appearances in the previous slow music, their abrupt appearance here just doesn’t work. I could see that Rouse was shooting for a transcendental ending, but this shift to a major key seemed so inadequately prepared that it came off as insincere and ineffectual. What we have in Rouse’s Second Quartet is an amazing fast movement, book-ended by an okay first movement and a disappointing last. It’s the inverse of Samuel Barber’s String Quartet, where his celebrated Adagio is surrounded by competent, yet ultimately forgettable allegros. Rouse and Barber both share the misfortune of having a brilliant middle movement dominate their entire quartet, to the detriment of the whole. The second Rouse work on the program, Compline, was a better piece. Compline was inspired by a trip to Rome, and in particular, the sound of bells. It is in four sections: Fast, slow, fast, slow. The Calder Quartet once again took the stage, joined by harpist Nancy Allen, flautist Catherine Ransom Karoly, and clarinetist Lorin Levee. The opening material consists of a major second (sing the first two notes of “Are You Sleeping?”--that’s a major second. Now repeat them thus: “are” “you” “you” “are” “you” “you”--that gives you an idea of the motive). Rouse keeps repeating that in various transformations throughout both fast movements. The initial effect of this motive is of two bells a major second apart, ringing at different speeds. Around the motive reiterated by the string quartet, the flute and clarinet scurry in and out, with the harp tolling like another bell. The fast sections are breakneck allegros. The climax of the work comes towards the end of the third section, where the bell motive is started at a different place in the measure, so the whole ensemble sounds like a machine breaking down. This reminded me of similar passages in the music of Gyorgy Ligeti, his so-called “clock” style (see Ligeti’s Chamber Concerto or String Quartet no. 2). The first slow movement in Compline alternates between gentle filigrees by the harp, flute, and clarinet, and chorale-like passages for the strings. In the final slow movement, the major second motive reappears transfigured and slowed down between the winds. After a plaintive unison melody performed by all but the harp, the piece concludes with a series of gentle oscillations over a pretty consonance. Once again, the Calder Quartet performed admirably. The winds were in tune, alternately raucous and sweet as required. The harp part wasn’t flashy, but Nancy Allen brought urgency to the fast sections, and calm to the slow. Compline is almost always conducted, but the seven musicians kept together by themselves without any difficulties. It’s no small feat for a modern composer to one-up a Ravel chamber piece, but that’s what Rouse did. It helps that the piece being trumped was Ravel’s Introduction and Allegro, scored for the same instruments as Compline. Ravel was one of the most careful composers of the early twentieth century, yet composed this work in a little over a week’s time. The results unfortunately show. It is, without a doubt, Ravel’s weakest chamber music. 15 years ago, on another Summerfest performance of this work, I wrote: “No matter what Ravel’s musical materials were, he was an undisputed master of instrumentation, and in this work, there are many highly original ensemble textures and virtuosically orchestrated passages. But despite such craftsmanship, the work never rises above the sort of saccharine maudlinness that typified salon music. It’s the musical equivalent of a wedding cake: One can admire the skill evidenced in its construction and decoration, but that still doesn’t change the nutritional fact that the thing is essentially sugar.” Today I wouldn’t accuse Introduction and Allegro of being excessively sentimental--many passages are cool and reserved--but it’s still just as sweet and ultimately unsatisfying. Nancy Allen shone here in her harp work, Lorin Levee and Catherine Ransom effortlessly negotiated the tricky arpeggios, and the Calder Quartet displayed the same strong musicality they had demonstrated in Rouse’s works. After hearing the late twentieth-century harmonies of Rouse, and the Impressionistic sonorities of Ravel, the opening measures of Brahms’ Horn Trio struck this listener as strange and unearthly. “Oh, that’s right, composers used to have a functional harmonic system. And listen to that--a recognizable tune!” There’s nothing for me to say about one of the great Romantic chamber works. Hornist Jennifer Montone performed nobly with a round, beautiful tone. Violinist Kyoko Takezawa played majestically in the fast movements, and sweetly in the beautiful slow movement. Cecile Licad was in complete command of the difficult piano part, but the faces she made at times were unnecessarily distracting. Some musicians shouldn’t emote while performing, because they look silly doing so, and unfortunately, Ms. Licad is one. The only musical quibble I can raise is that the first theme of the first movement was a little on the slow side. Other than that, a splendid performance! Links about Christopher Rouse:
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