High points of the evening included a subtly superb performance by Yale harpist Ashley Jackson in the Mahler opening piece, in addition to Daniel Curtis’ fledgling but formidable turn as guest conductor for the piece. A recently graduated music major, his conducting motions call to mind the graceful image of a cat leaping. Another gem of the evening was the Wagner piece, where the incredible vocal talent of soprano soloist Janna Baty, an Assistant Professor (Adjunct) of Voice at the Yale School of Music, shined bright. The most humorous point of the evening, of course, was the baton sent flying near the end of Brahms’ symphony, a playful testament to Swanson’s passion and verve in the delivery of orchestral masterworks.
Baty, who has been a staple of vocal-orchestral performances at Amherst College for the past three years, delivered a mesmerizing performance of Wagner’s piece with her darkly textured voice and exquisite technique. It was unfortunate that near the end of the piece, during a climactic passage, the sounds of the orchestra literally drowned out her voice for several bars. Perhaps cutting out certain musicians from each section might have aided this balance issue, or else simply pressing for less loudness overall from the orchestra. Thankfully, the error was not protracted, and the performance ended well.
Indeed the Wagner performance elicited an audible exclamation of “Wonderful!” from an elderly audience member before the concluding chords had quite faded off. Later, during intermission, another person confided that the music had literally given him goose bumps. Overall, the orchestra’s rendition of Wagner seems to have created the musical impression which was intended, balance issues notwithstanding.
What I found particularly impressive was the cohesiveness of the first violin section in the second two works the Wagner piece and the Brahms symphony. It is possible that opening night jitters partly accounted for the slight but distinct shakiness of the first violins in the Mahler opening piece (specifically the crunchiness on the high notes in the middle of the piece). As the concert progressed, they were collectively able to ease and relax into their element. I am inclined to attribute the later success of the violins (and, by a small step, the entire orchestra) to the deft leadership of the two underclassmen concert masters for each of those pieces, Alicia Ciccone and Sophie Kim.
For those readers who may not be aware, the duties of the concert master—the person who plays violin furthest to the audience’s left, in the front row—extend well beyond simply bowing with flourish to the audience and striking the open string for all the other instruments to tune on. Within the body of instrumentalists, the concert master bears a considerable responsibility of leadership both in rehearsal and concert setting: From the vantage point of front and left, she must set the tone musically and lead physically with her posture and bowing. Instrumentalists who are further back in the formation and may not be able to see the conductor’s indications at all times depend on the concert master’s leadership.
That said, both Ciccone and Kim admirably rose to the challenge of their position with keenness and poise. Ciccone’s playing and physical leadership showed a delicacy of touch which created a fine counterpoint to the sweeping German Romanticism of Wagner’s operatic extract. This was evident most clearly in the sections where the violins sustained lower to middle range notes within their register. Kim’s piece, the Brahms symphony, is laden with shifting tempos and moods in addition to Brahms’ typically “kaleidoscopic” tonalities (aptly described as such by Swanson’s program notes). In the face of these musical complexities, the aforementioned rogue flying baton near the end of the symphony, and the simple fact that she has been a member of the orchestra for not quite a month, Kim’s versatile performance demonstrated grace and ingenuity.