In Concert For Strings, Historical Style Melds With A New Concerto

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The conductorless orchestra Sejong Soloists seemed to shout, “Hey, look what we can do!” (Photos by Emilio Herce)

NEW YORK — The program by Sejong Soloists with violinists Gil Shaham and Adele Anthony on April 8 at Carnegie Hall’s Zankel Hall was an exercise in reaching into the past. This characterization applies even to the world premiere of a double concerto by Israeli-born composer Avner Dorman.

But long before playing that new work, the string ensemble flung down a gauntlet in their spectacular opener, Vivaldi’s Trio Sonata in D Minor, Op. 1, No. 12 (La follia), in an arrangement for string orchestra. The conductorless ensemble seemed to shout, “Hey, look what we can do!” as they navigated the intricate work in impeccable order, executing carefully mapped-out phrases, and giving the illusion of a raging wildfire in perfect unison.

Ironically, the next piece undid some of the impression made by the Vivaldi. The two guest violinists, husband-and-wife team of Shaham and Anthony, joined the orchestra for Bach’s Concerto for Two Violins in D minor. Shaham (clearly leading, although not officially conducting) started the Vivace quite fast and continued to push the tempo. Although the violinists had some effective moments passing ideas back and forth, that movement never found its groove, and the orchestra seemed slightly flummoxed.

The second movement, marked Largo, ma non tanto, was much more satisfying (and, surprisingly, a repeat of it was given as an encore). Anthony’s sweet sound complemented Shaham’s more subdued tone, while Sejong was always responsive and expressive without turning maudlin. Despite the preponderance of sequential repetition in the score, there was always a sense of growth. Anthony and Shaham blended well with the orchestra, as soloists without ego. After a ragged start, the Allegro quickly pulled together its rhythmic drive and distinctive phrasing. Anthony’s assertive low-register passages helped color the final thrust.

It’s rare to hear David Diamond’s Rounds, composed in 1944 at the request of Dimitri Mitropoulos, who premiered it with the strings of the Minneapolis Symphony. The four Sejong cellos were placed front and center, with violins, violas, and basses standing behind them in a semicircle, exactly the acoustical setup needed.

As the title suggests, Rounds is full of imitative counterpoint. At first, it’s harmonically static (a normal feature for a strict round), but it doesn’t stay that way. The phrases have an American folk flavor, reminiscent of spirituals and cowboy melodies, with gentle syncopation. Soon whole-tone and pentatonic ideas start to move against each other. In defiance of the concept of imitation, aspects of the orchestra start to contrast: spiccato crunchiness vs. legato lines; small interval phrases vs. soaring heights; harmonics vs. low strings. As in the Vivaldi, Sejong displayed exquisitely detailed rhythmic interplay, yet in the moving slow section they proved they’re more than just a technical wonder.

Violinists Gil Shaham and Adele Anthony were soloists in works by Bach and Avner Dorman with Sejong Soloists.

After the ensemble gave a solid (if perhaps unnecessary) performance of Air on the G String from Bach’s Orchestral Suite No. 3 in D, Dorman introduced his new work, A Time to Mourn and a Time to Dance, Concerto for Two Violins and Strings. He wrote it for Anthony and Shaham as a “companion” to the Bach Double. Like Diamond’s Rounds, which borrows the concept of imitative counterpoint yet sounds thoroughly American and modern, Dorman’s work is not in the least neo-Baroque. It is, however, an important example of programmatic instrumental music.

The title is taken from the biblical passage in Ecclesiastes that starts, “For everything there is a season,” which pairs the necessary opposing elements of existence: living and dying, sowing and reaping, and so forth. Dorman explained that the only pair he didn’t understand was “A time to mourn and a time to dance.” So he composed this four-movement concerto to explore that concept, alternating between mourning and dancing. The result is a deeply true exegesis of the experience of grief.

The concerto’s opening movement is “Meditative”; it and the parts that follow have a fundamentally Jewish sound, both in their combination meters and the use of minor mode with an augmented second in the scale. Anthony started with a passage laying out that distinctive interval, then picked up by Shaham, who played it against her counter-subject as the orchestra sustained quiet notes. The movement blossomed out suddenly; it is prayerful, yet interrupted by motion, like a distracted mind that can’t concentrate. The beautifully played solos snatched ideas from the orchestra and tossed them back.

“Upbeat,” the second movement, is fast and frantic. Although Dorman described it as a dance, it evoked a grieving person determined to stay busy, to put off processing grief. In its forced jocularity, countless short ideas were glued together. Anthony and Shaham played rapid-fire 16th notes and triplets that blurred into an orchestral tempest.

Composer Avner Dorman joined violinists Adele Anthony and Gil Shaham onstage after the world premiere of his ‘A Time to Mourn and a Time to Dance,’ Concerto for Two Violins and Strings.

In the Kaddish-like “Lamentful,” the aching solos against held notes returned. For one moment the minor turned major — but that raised scale pitch quickly disappeared, like the momentary smile when a friend says something kind and the weight of grief is lifted for a second. Long, even chords in the orchestra, textured with smatterings of tremolo and fast upward scales, gave the sense of plodding through life. In one memorable passage, the solo violins played harmonics in counterpoint, then the orchestra took up the harmonics as the soloists switched to pizzicato.

For the “Exuberant” finale, Shaham entered with a galloping pizzicato against Anthony’s fleet bowing. The rousing syncopation indicated glimmers of hope; this truly felt like a dance, not just nervous energy. After an extremely complicated, fast duet, the whole orchestra joined in with impossibly complex layers of accentuation. By the end of the dance, there’s unabashed happiness.

Dorman has found a way to communicate an essential part of the human condition in a work that is highly listenable even without our knowing the subtext. The only reason this wonderful piece might not achieve the popularity it deserves is that so few chamber ensembles could play it well. One hopes the strings from major orchestras will give it a try.