Musical Landscapes (Baltimore Symphony Orchestra)

Back from the BSO's performance at Strathmore. The pieces under the authority of conductor Marin Alsop's robustly light touch were:

1. "Doctor Atomic Symphony" by John Adams.
2. Violin Concerto in E Minor by Felix Mendelssohn, with guest violinist Stefan Jackiw.
3. Symphony No. 9 in E Minor, "From the New World," by Antonin Dvorak.

It was for the third piece in the program that my friend particularly wanted to go out on a schoolnight, in the rain, to hear. I agreed to go because her husband would not, and after all the Sunday "family" dinners she's had me over for, I figured my companionship was the least I could offer.

"New World" is a good draw and a great end to an evening out. It'll keep all us oldsters awake. But more than that, the piece is an exploration of a landscape in musical tones, shades and contours, lights and earthy darks.

It was the second piece that got the biggest applause, though, thanks to the pyrotechnics of the guest hunk. Oh yeah, baby, the 25-year-old Korean-German wunderkind looked about 15, so it seemed to me the enthusiastic standing ovation may have been on the patronizing side. Maybe not. He really was quite fantastic.

For me, the first piece was worth the price of admission, though my friend said it was too "modern" for her taste.

Here is where I remind myself not to call this stuff "classical music." When you tell your friends you're going to a concert and it's not Lady Gaga or even Coldplay, you can usually just get away with saying it's classical music. But I guess the correct term is "symphonic" or "orchestral" concert. Anyway, the "Doctor Atomic Symphony" ain't "classical" no-way, no-how.

Having spent the afternoon listening to my CD of Philip Glass symphonies (conducted by above mentioned Alsop, that dinky little force of nature), I was probably in a better mental position to accept the less-melodically inclined Adams piece than my friend was.

Typically when at an orchestral concert, given little else to look at besides the clarinetists cleaning out their instruments every chance they can, I visualize dance, movement, and even a narrative. That was not the case with Adams. Instead, I was visualizing the landscapes of the dread, barren Southwest, and rhythms of dawn and decay. It was both fracturing and refreshing.

Because my friend and I had been yammering away before the program began, I didn't get to read about what I would be hearing this evening. So in the interval before the orchestra and hunky guest launched into the Mendelssohn, I glanced at the program and saw that "Doctor Atomic Symphony" was actually inspired by Robert Oppenheimer, dirctor of the Manhattan Project, which of course was set in the New Mexico desert and, according to the program notes, was "ripe for mythic treatment."

For some reason that made me very happy. That I "got" it. Listening to something I knew nothing about, not exactly prepared for, and feeling what the artist wanted me to (I think).

Love, hosaa,
getting it (I think)