HRO Concerto Concert

Belaboring a program of music or a musical organization for contributing to cultural inertia is dangerous because so much depends on one's own center of gravity in musical history. If, for examble, one feels most at home anywhere between Palestrina and Mahler, then the programs of the Harvard-Radcliffe Orchestra this season were daring--chronologically, at least. They included works of Giannini, Kodaly, Hindemith, Bartok, Martin, and, on Friday's program, Charles Griffes and Alfredo Ginastera. But if one's scope extends to twentieth century musical ideas and materials, beyond mere rehashings of established techniques, then the HRO has been disturbingly conservative. On examination, most of the contemporary works the HRO has played have been, in style and spirit, pop-concert pablum--insipid and palatable. Almost invariably these works have been well-performed; but more than quality of performance, this community has a right to expect experimentation and education.

The two contemporary works on Friday's program were neither experimental nor educational. In Pampeana No. 3, Alfredo Ginastera, the well-known Brazilian composer, compiles all the best known motives from travelogues and documentary films; hence the subtitle "a pastoral symphony." Ginastera is without doubt an excellent anthologist; in the second movement of the three movement work, for example, he uses the percussive sonorities of the piano well, and sustains attractively the drive which he establishes. However, menthol-fresh flutes and oh-so-moving woodwind duos run riot in the first and third movements. On his own terms Ginastera is good; but what good are his terms?

Whatever their worth, the orchestra made the best of Ginastera's tricks. The orchestra had a splendid, fat and shiny sound which is distinctly a recent phenomenon. Conductor Henri Swoboda has the orchestra at his disposal, and puts it at the disposal of the music accurately.

The second contemporary work on the program, Charles Griffes' Poem for flute and orchestra, suffers from overperformance as much as Pampeana suffers from cliches. Griffes (1884-1920), after studying piano and composition in Berlin, taught elementary music in a boy's school near New York; he could compose only during his leisure, though the rapid evolution of his oevre suggests a substantial talent, death from overwork at the age of 36 prevented him from developing a style really his own. Thus the Poem blends impressionistic vagaries, romantic rhapsodies, and mitigated marches into a staple of flautists everywhere.

Miss Karen Monson '66 played the Poem with a sweet, singing tone that remained clear, and carried through Sanders, even in the low registers of the flute. Here technique never faltered; the balance Swoboda maintained between her and the orchestra never wavered. In fact, her performance was too constant: Miss Monson never varied her tone quality or volume. By the end of the Poem, I wished for some slight distortion that would reveal excitement, some subtlety to tell of understanding.

A mechanical--but mechanically imperfect--treatment of Franck's Symphonic Variations by Steven Lubin '63 suggests that perhaps venturing away from musically established works might cure these soloists of their apparent boredom. There are at least two reasonable interpretations of this load of Franck schmaltz: one can play it through straight-forwardly, or one can indulge in a bit of lingering and slavering. Given my preference for the latter, I found Lubin's performance flat and cold. However, neither preference calls for an overly heavy bass, unclear technical display, a constantly underfed melody, and brusquely punctuated phrases; though Mr. Lubin provided large-scale changes in loudness, he seemed little inclined to modulate within sections of the work.

In the last half of the program, Swoboda finally roused the orchestra to enthusiasm with some music that was genuine for its own day, and hence is genuine now: Dvorak's Symphony No. 8 (formerly No. 4) in G major, Op. 88. Here Swoboda seemed to be a free man on home territory, and he was exciting to watch and hear. In the waltz of the third movement, he and the orchestra were all grace; in the final movement he shifted tempo and mood expertly. Here, safe in romanticism, the orchestra came alive.

In the past, the HRO has seemed willing to trade fewer professional performances like Friday's Dvorak for more real musical adventure than it has this year. One cannot say whether the reluctance to barter this year rests with Swoboda or the members of the orchestra, but one can hope that next year, Swoboda, having consolidated a fine orchestra, will lead it on to modern works that deserve its talents.