November 12, 2009: Full disclosure

There are many reasons to be disappointed that, due to a medical emergency, Gautier Capuçon had to cancel his appearance at Davies Symphony Hall to perform Robert Schumann's cello concerto (Opus 129 in A minor) with the San Francisco Symphony under the baton of Semyon Bychkov.  However, there may be just as many reasons to be pleased with the decision to replace the Schumann concerto with two very familiar works by Maurice Ravel, the 1910 orchestral version of the "Pavane pour une Infante Défunte" and his "choreographic poem," "La Valse."  One of those reasons is that Ravel was greatly admired by Henri Dutilleux, whose "Métaboles" began the program.  Born in 1916, it would be fair to characterize Dutilleux as part of the "post-Ravel" generation.  His sense of orchestration clearly reflects the influence of Ravel, along with that of Claude Debussy, Béla Bartók, and Igor Stravinsky;  but his was also a generation significantly influenced by Anton Webern, particularly in the period following the Second World War.  "Métaboles" is a score that goes beyond Ravel's most extensive instrumentations to capture both the visceral qualities of Bartók and Stravinsky and a cerebral striving for new approaches to structural organization.  While Ronald Gallman's program note suggested this Dutilleux' title could be translated as "metamorphoses," it is clear from Dutilleux' own remarks about "interior evolution" as a structural strategy that a literal translation as the adjective "metabolic" is probably more appropriate.  The work begins with the "incantation" of a seed-like motif that "metabolizes" within a series of environments denoted by the section titles "Linear," "Obsessive," "Torpid," and "Flamboyant," the final denoting the ultimate flowering of that initial seed.

There are two other sources, both of whom approached the emergence of the fragmentary in ways that share a "family resemblance" with "Métaboles," even if they have never been explicitly acknowledged in any studies of Dutilleux' work.  One is Edgard Varèse, who had moved to the United States by the time Dutilleux was born but who clearly was concerned with approaching composition in terms of fragmentary building blocks that could be assembled in different ways.  One could be forgiven for assuming that Dutilleux had been exposed to Varèse's music, was fascinated by it, but was also determined to smooth out its sharper dissonances.  The other resemblance is, I am almost certain, entirely imaginary on my part, which is that the "two-way street" relation that existed between George Gershwin and Maurice Ravel formed again between Dutilleux and Charles Mingus.  This may have had to do with the way in which Scott Pingel played the opening of the "Obsessive" section, since his bass technique serves him just as well in a jazz setting as it does in the San Francisco Symphony.  Dutilleux was clearly going for a jazz sound at this point in the score.  Since the work was completed in 1964, I can think of any number of Mingus tracks that could have influenced him.

As one might imagine, the "interior evolution" of a seed is a subtle and gradual process that demands considerable attention to detail.  Fortunately, Bychkov is the sort of conductor that not only honors that fine level of detail but also coaxes it from the orchestra.  Thus, while the score makes many demands on the listener, particularly the first-time listener, Bychkov knew how to present all the complexity of detail with a clarity that demonstrated how it all came together in a "big picture."  If, as a result, he has cultivated a desire in his audience to hear more of how Dutilleux approaches his work, then he has done a great service to both Dutilleux and all of us who aspire to be better listeners.

Dutilleux' "evolutionary" strategy is very much one of gradual disclosure in a manner that is not that different from Gustav Mahler's similar strategy that has interested me so much in recent performances of his first symphony.  That strategy is also operative in "La Valse," which I have previously described as a work of "images emerging from obscurity."  In this case the "seed" of the music is even more primordial, since it is little more that what I called the "obsessive presence of the waltz' three-beat pulse."  Ravel takes his own good time (and perhaps then some) to allow any "waltz music" to emerge from that pulse;  and Bychkov was masterful in holding back the orchestra to allow that waltz to "evolve" in its own time.  Once again this is a setting in which an almost insignificant seed ultimately flowers beyond our wildest conception of its potential;  and, given Dutilleux' interest in Ravel, I have to wonder whether or not the flowering of this waltz was a critical inspiration behind the "Flamboyant" flowering that concludes "Métaboles."

There is also very much an evolutionary spirit in the fifth symphony of Jean Sibelius, Opus 82 in E-flat major.  Here is music with a motif so fragmented that it barely has a melodic contour and is deliberately ambiguous about its pulse.  Also, in the spirit of the second symphony of Johannes Brahms, this is a composition that keeps you waiting for its first solid downbeat, although that downbeat is ultimately established at the second movement, while Brahms keeps you waiting until the beginning of his fourth.  Once again, the performance depended on Bychkov's skill at keeping the orchestra under restraint as Sibelius' own "evolutionary" strategy played out in its own time;  and, once again, the music ended with yet another dazzling exhibition of flowering emerging from the most modest of origins.

The one piece that did not fit this unifying pattern of evolving-into-flowering was the Ravel "Pavane."  This was a much shorter work requiring far more modest resources.  However, it is another instance of Ravel's sense of orchestration at its best.  It is a composition in which every note counts, not only for its contributions to melody and harmony but also for the orchestral color it contributes.  This is one of those works where the orchestral shadings are so subtle that they still remain beyond the grasp of even the best recording equipment, but there is no doubt that they were well within Bychkov's comprehension.  Thus, those who thought they knew this music from any number of recordings in their collection could not help but recognize just how "ear-opening" Bychkov's interpretation was.

Thus, if unfortunate circumstance deprived us of the opportunity to enjoy one of the most interesting of the current young cellists, Bychkov had no trouble providing us with a wealth of other inspiring opportunities as compensation!