Yannatos' Swan Song

In an uncanny way this phrase from Mahler's Das Lied von der Erde epitomizes my exact sentiments as I left Sanders Theatre Friday night after hearing the HRO's second concert of the season. It was one of those concerts at which one wished one could immerse oneself totally in the music and forgive all flaws in the performance.

The program was typical for conductor James Yannatos. With 18th or early 19th century classic and large Romantic works at either end of his programs, Yannatos has persistently scheduled pieces of 20th century music--often recent compositions--as keystones of his concerts. On Friday he led the HRO in performances of Mozart's Overture to Die Zauberfloete, the new clarinet concerto by professor emeritus Walter Piston, and that song to end all songs, Mahler's Das Lied von der Erde. What more could one ask of an evening?

The concert got off to a shaky start with the Mozart. Each of three major allegro sections begins with a set of fugal entries which leave the first and second violons especially exposed. In each case the entrance were painfully ragged. On the other hand; the second theme-group dialogues between oboe and flute were exquisite examples of ensemble and musicianship.

One hundred-seventy-six years separate the Mozart from Piston's Concerto for Clarinet and Orchestra, completed last July. In import, however, the two are not so very far apart. Written in a thoroughly modern idiom, Piston's piece nevertheless has all the brevity, forward drive and essential lyricism of a Mozart horn concerto. Soloist John C. Adams combined a capacity for pyrotechnics with a sensuous pianissimo that must be the envy of all clarinetists.

Das Lied von der Erde was to have been the HRO's tour de force, as well as something of a swan song for Yannatos, who will be on leave next semester. The work requires a huge orchestra as well as mezzo-soprano and tenor soloists. Each of the six movements sets to music texts from a collection of Chinese poetry translated into German called Die chinesische Floete. Together they take an entire hour to perform. The work was thus the weightiest on the program, and received the bulk of rehearsal time since the HRO's last concert a month ago.

If insecurity occasionally reared its head during the Piston, it was certainly in full view throughout the Mahler. The orchestra's performance was rife with premature entrances, bad ensemble, sloppy (though assidious) passagework and poor intonation. On the whole, the woodwinds came off better than the strings, though everyone seemed to be working hard. Marilyn Malpass was a model concert-mistress, at all times attentive to the conductor and heroically attempting to bring the rest of the section along with her. Oboist Carl Schlaikjer was shaky in the second movement, but recovered by the sixth and spun out some of the most mellifluous, well-shaped line I have ever heard. To the flute, Mahler has given a number of improvisatory, melismatic solos that rank with Debussy's writing for the instrument; and principal Michael Tabak must be the original Chinese flute.

Of the two vocal soloists, tenor William Brown was by far the more impressive as a musician. In spite of its oriental origins, the expression in this work is solidly German. Brown accordingly showed himself capable of both Schwung and Sehnsucht. His lower register has a rich, baritone-like quality; at the same time he can negotiate tenor B-flats with hardly any strain. Unfortunately his voice was often covered by the orchestra--his problem as well as the HRO's.

Mezzo-soprano Mary Devenport was a disappointment. Her German was garbled and her voice murky, sounding more and more constricted as it rose in pitch. Her singing was four-square and monotonous, and she had the deplorable habit of sliding from high to low notes. The best one can say for her is that she has a fairly rich and well-controlled lower register.

A Harvard music professor once characterized "Der Abschied," the final movement of Das Lied von der Erde, as a Mahler's farewell to the 19th century. It is tempting to think of this performance as James Yannatos's "latztes Lebewohl" to Harvard and the HRO. Though his departure is only temporary, it is still a pity the performance did not live up to the occasion. Yannatos has earned the admiration of most for his adventuresome programming, his enthusiastic conducting, and his sincere interest in the musical development of students, concentrator and non-concentrator alike. His presence will be missed next semester, as it will again be welcomed in the Fall. And then, ... Alluberall und ewig blauen licht die Fernen! Ewig ... Ewig ... Ewig ...