It was a stellar crowd that heard cello virtuoso Yo-Yo Ma and the Nashville Symphony in the first of this year’s “Legends of Music” special concerts. Dan Miller was in the row behind me, and all around row Q were identifiable Nashville movers and shakers. Perhaps there was not so much news because so many of its makers were there to enjoy the continuing legend of Ma and his cello. But in a strange way, the evening had somewhat the episodic quality of a newscast. Most of the works were either picaresque in quality or were outright theme and variations.
The concert began with the episodes from the legend of Till Eulenspeigel’s Merry Pranks by Richard Strauss; from the beginning, the strengths and weaknesses of the performance were there for the hearing. My first impression was that the chronic problems between the string-brass balance had been solved. Until about halfway through the piece, the brass, especially the trombone section, kept the balance, even in passages in which they were supposed to ride over the rest of the ensemble. But sometime in the final episodes detailing Till’s revolutionary activities, the sound of the lower brass began to creep up to ensemble-splitting volumes. Not all of these problems could be laid to the brasses, however—the strings, especially the violin sections, were having some rocky moments. Particularly fine moments in the performance included the horn fanfares (which can be frequently problematic), beautiful tone from the cellos and violas during the courting scene, and splendid work by the clarinets during the execution scene.
Almost every commentator on Yo-Yo Ma’s performances notes his unusual rapport with the members of the local ensembles for which he serves as soloist. This was in best evidence during the Tchaikovsky Variations on a Rococo Theme. Understated but never boring, Ma’s playing was marked by considerable elegance until he burst out in an affectionate, “anything you can do I can do better” duel with concertmaster Mary Kathryn Vanosdale. The onstage mugging was a delight, as was the contest, which ended in a draw. Ma’s cantabile playing was especially beautiful, but in some of the fast passages, motion was emphasized to the detriment of precision. Indeed, on many occasions, when Ma chose to emphasize a note in a phrase, that note frequently went slightly off pitch. Also problematic in pitch were some of the double-stopped passages toward the end of the performance, but balancing this was a dead accuracy in middle-range trills. In sum, if all of the virtuoso tricks did not always work, Ma’s balance between heart-on-the-sleeve emotion and subtle reflection was always apt.
The NSO’s performance of the fourth movement from Tchaikovsky’s Suite No. 3 in G Major enjoyed some fine constituent parts, but it wasn’t a virtuoso performance. Much of this movement is based on the alternation of singing passages for strings balanced with more sprightly passages for winds. This alternation worked fairly well throughout: The winds were particularly good in their passages, with special praise going to the mellow sound of the bassoon section. The cellos had an especial warmth, although the rest of the strings really needed to let go from time to time with a greater surge of sound. And overall, the ritards during the famous polonaise were just right—everybody nailed this bit to the wall. The principal problem with this passage, as well as an earlier quotation by the brasses of the Dies irae melody, was that the trombones seemed out to wake the dead. I also felt that, unlike so many fine performances last season, the Maestro Schermerhorn and the NSO were having problems creating a flexible phrase and a dynamic dynamic.
The performance of the evening was, of course, the Cello Concerto in E minor, the opus 85 of Edward Elgar. Perhaps I have too frequently listened to the late Jacqueline du Pré’s recording of this work, but I find that no other performance, not even Ma and the NSO’s formidable one, has managed to make so much sense of this music. Part of the reason is in the music itself. Despite the fact that it is one of the cornerstones of the cello repertoire, it has its problems: Cheek-by-jowl with some sublime writing for the soloist, Elgar drops in some of the tritest leftovers from his “Pomp and Circumstance” marches. Even more than in works like Cocaigne and Falstaff, the episodic quality of the interaction between the soloist and orchestra often prevents this work from truly gelling.
Perhaps the one part of the work that saw everyone in best form Thursday night was the Mahlerian adagio. Here, the symphony’s skill in conveying long, tender melody, Schermerhorn’s love for the Mahlerian line, and Ma’s peerless way with the cantabile phrase were in perfect synchronization. As with a mystical experience, time seemed to stand still; it was the best playing of the evening. Ma also had his way with the slashing interjections of the first movement cadenza and the big moments of the finale. Orchestral performances throughout were fine, except for the overpowering presence of the trombones.
As happened many times during last season, the soloist for the evening was even better in his encores. In these, Ma was aided by Mark O’Connor and Edgar Meyer, his partners on the soon-to-be-released album Appalachian Waltz. Both encores were splendid, but the second one, the slow piece from which the album takes its title, was one of the prettiest compositions I’ve ever heard. Its wistfulness will ensure its popularity for years to come on occasions of passage—I predict it will become an inevitable part of marriage ceremonies in about six months. Mr. O’Connor should take a page from Samuel Barber’s book and arrange it for string orchestra.
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