Riccardo Muti and the Chicago Symphony Make Mighty Sounds in Costa Mesa
- Timothy Mangan
- 6 hours ago
- 4 min read
REVIEW: The visiting orchestra and conductor provide a splendid program of Strauss, Hindemith Stravinsky and Ravel.
The Chicago Symphony has long been one of the world’s most imposing orchestras. This is partly due to the group’s famous brass section, whose formidable power and magnificent tone were a touchstone for aspiring young brass players back in my student days. Whenever we had a big brass part in an orchestral work to learn, we’d invariably turn to the recordings of the Chicago Symphony, and listen in dumbfounded admiration.
Imposing then, imposing now. The orchestra wound up a 12-day tour of western states on Saturday night with a visit to the Rénee and Henry Segerstrom Concert Hall. A brass-forward program – or at least it became one – was on the music stands. Music Director Emeritus for Life Riccardo Muti, 84, was on the podium. They did not disappoint.
The Philharmonic Society of Orange County has presented Muti and company a couple of times in recent years – the hall was packed, people remember – and as in those other appearances the musical menu Saturday was intriguing, slightly offbeat. This one featured the Overture to “The Gypsy Baron” by Johann Strauss, Jr., the “Mathis der Maler” Symphony by Hindemith, the Divertimento from “The Fairy’s Kiss” by Stravinsky and Ravel’s “Boléro.” There was no concerto, or starry soloist to play it; the orchestra would be the star.
By this time in his career, Muti has become something of a Zen master on the podium. He doesn’t force things to happen, he allows them to. His gestures are often slight; sometimes he conducts hardly at all. He is still plenty spry, however; Thursday, he jumped around like a young man when he wanted or needed to.
This Zen approach served some of the music better than others. Stravinsky’s ballet suite became a small miracle of charm and grace. “The Fairy’s Kiss,” based on songs and piano pieces by Tchaikovsky, is perhaps Stravinsky’s least astringent score and the metrical games are less assertive. What’s more, the orchestration is light and airy. Muti and his players romped through it like Fred Astaire dancing on clouds. Muti’s ministrations were minimal, but playfully so, and they brought out all the fun in this music.
Hindemith’s “Mathis der Maler,” once virtually part of the standard repertory but now not heard very often, is heavier stuff. A depiction of a Renaissance altarpiece by Matthias Grünewald, the symphony gives us three religious pictures in its movements: “The Angelic Concert,” “The Entombment” and “The Temptation of St. Anthony.” The music is noble and often dramatic, but it is also thickly contrapuntal, harmonically dense, stolidly rhythmic, learned.
Here, Muti’s approach didn’t prove as effective as it did in the Stravinsky. In allowing this music to unfurl of its own accord, his tempos were often on the slow side and at times the phrasing sagged. The contrapuntal passages in particular could have used some more pep, a stronger forward impetus. Still, with its steadiness and patience, not to mention the orchestra’s golden hues, the performance bloomed magnificently, and all seemed just as it should be.
When one hears an orchestra of the caliber of the Chicago Symphony, one is reminded of just how beautiful the sound of a symphony orchestra can be. I refer to the tone. Starting with that burnished lower brass (the trumpets top them seamlessly), this orchestra seems to build its sound from the bottom up, the woodwinds emerging to brighten the sound, the strings adding a firm sheen, if that’s possible. The sound is never forced, always beautiful in tone (except when something else is required), always balanced. Oh, you notice the brass, but they don’t overwhelm the others.
Ravel’s “Boléro,” played last, was the hit of the evening, as it always is, a huge roar rising from the packed house after its startling conclusion. I’m always surprised when someone tells me they don’t like “Boléro,” as people often do, as someone did Saturday. Even Ravel himself apparently didn’t like it that much. But to me it’s a work of pure genius, an experimental masterpiece that nevertheless grips, a single sustained crescendo of 15 minutes or so — and there’s not another piece that’s remotely like it.
Muti’s tempo was slow – I estimated it at 60 beats a minute – but not unduly. He permitted his soloists to do their things unhampered (which they all did handsomely), but kept involved in the accompaniment, highlighting colors and accents. He gradually became more active in the melodies as the ensemble took them up, and unleashed the piece to its raucous ending. He gave the snare drummer, who had been positioned right in front of him, her own special bow.
Oddly, the “Gypsy Baron” Overture, which opened the concert, sounded overcontrolled, and a bit too serious for its own good. It was well tailored and all buttoned up and one wanted to unbutton at least that top button. The encore was Verdi’s Overture to “Nabucco.” When Muti announced it, he pretended to be insulted when there was no spontaneous applause for the name Verdi, and acted as if walking offstage without playing it, just kidding. In the event, it was big, sweeping and snappy Verdi. Toscanini would have been proud.
