Here’s another lovely Saturday night spent at the Chicago Symphony Orchestra:
There’s a Ravel in the crowd yelling Bravi — can you spot him?
Tonight’s program is splendid — the orchestra begins with Camille Pépin’s Les Eaux célestes. Anticipating upcoming Ravel, I was not surprised to catch a sense of oriental chords within the surreal, dreamy, beauuuuuutiful music. Turns out, the piece it was inspired by the ancient Chinese legend 牵牛织女鹊桥会 (a love story, read CSO’s official comment).
Then Alice Sara Ott took over the spotlight and spoiled the audience with her brilliantly rich Ravel piano concertos (the left hand concerto, then also the classic Piano Concerto in G Major). Ravel devoted a lot for the G Major concerto: some Jazz, some Mozart, a lot of love, and a little bit procrastination.
Ravel originally intended to play the concerto in G major himself, but by the time he put the final touches on the score, he realized that his health was rapidly declining, and he would never perform it. (He was soon diagnosed with the brain disease that ultimately made it impossible for him even to sign his name.) For years, Ravel had contemplated writing a concerto for Marguerite Long, who had studied with him (as well as with Debussy), and it was she who played the first performance in Paris, with the composer conducting. The premiere was a triumph (although Ravel’s conducting lacked “clarity and elasticity,” in the words of one critic). Ravel subsequently ignored his doctor’s orders and went on a four-month tour with Long to introduce the concerto throughout Europe. (They also recorded it together.)
Although Ravel described the work as “a concerto in the truest sense of the word,” he had originally thought of calling it a divertissement, to emphasize its lighter qualities. The concerto makes use of long-discarded material for a “Basque fantasy” Ravel had begun around 1914. It opens with an allegro that suggests a Spanish fiesta spiked with American jazz. Occasional blue notes and trombone smears confirm how carefully Ravel had listened when he and Gershwin visited Harlem jazz spots together. A frequently repeated melodic tag recalls the opening tune of Gershwin’s own Rhapsody in Blue. The velvety slow movement, for all its lush harmonies and French sonorities, is deeply indebted to Mozart; in fact, Ravel told Marguerite Long that he wrote it slowly and painstakingly, “two measures at a time, with frequent reference to Mozart’s Clarinet Quintet.” The opening, uninterrupted melody is much longer than any phrase in Mozart—an unadorned piano solo that unfolds slowly, twisting and turning in unexpected ways, all in one huge breath. The third movement was an afterthought-an exhilarating, saucy finale composed shortly before the premiere and designed to leave the audience in high spirits.
Source: CSO Handout
The orchestra concluded the night in high spirit with the Carmen Suite. You can never get tired of it. Under the marvelous rendition of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, the Prelude was delivered with such technical precision and elegant posture that, the lucious Spanish love story sounds almost as poised and prestigious as Mendelssohn…
Btw, did you find the Ravel?
Slay.