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Festive Lauds, Touching Lamentations New York
Weill Recital Hall, Carnegie Hall
04/06/2024 -
George Frideric Handel: Ode for the Birthday of Queen Anne, HWV 74: “Eternal source of light divine” – Tolomeo, HWV 25: “Stille amare” – Rinaldo, HWV 7: “Or la tromba”
Osvaldo Golijov: The Fire Outlives the Spark – LAIꞰA (World premiere)
Sir Edward Elgar: Piano Quintet in A minor, Op. 84
Anthony Roth Costanzo (Countertenor)
Yannick Nézet-Séguin (Pianist), Met Orchestra Chamber Ensemble
A. R. Costanzo/ Laika
“I think that this is, for me, important right now, spiritually and musically, to go to a place where it’s not no where and no time, but where time is clicking and there is growth—and there’s funk and rhythm and jokes.”
Osvaldo Golijov
When a major composer is inspired to write an obsequy for the tragic true history of a dog, and when a major poet pens verses appropriate for that tragedy, then the dog himself, Laika deserves top billing. Even when the Met Chamber Orchestra ensemble had two other major composers on their program this afternoon.
Once upon a time, in fact, the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra was a near‑dismal ensemble made solely to “accompany” divas and heldentenors. Under the late James Levine, not only did it ascend to be one of the finest orchestras of America, but its players branched off as this Chamber Orchestra.
Yesterday, the Met’s conductor, Yannick Nézet-Séguin, joined the group as pianist. And the Met’s star countertenor, Anthony Roy Costanzo, joined a star group of instrumentalists in three glorious works by Handel.
One may mistake Baroque solos for the usual harpsichord/continuo trio. But Handel loved extravagant orchestras as much as Italian lyricism. Mr. Costanzo was made for such music. His voice is effortless, more a contralto range than the original vibrato‑less high castrati.
Here, with a large group of players–string quintet (with bass), oboes, trumpets, harpsichord and timpani–Mr. Constanzo started with a short poem for the birthday of Queen Anne, where his glorious voice was overcome at times by one of the four trumpets (a regnant deserves no less). This was followed by a quieter “Stille amare” from the opera Tolomeo.
The stentorian highlight, though, was “Or la tromba”–”Sound the trumpet in Festive Tones”. Those tunes, by trumpeter Raymond Riccomini, were more than festive. This time Mr. Costanzo wasn’t in the background. At first he vied with several of the trumpets. Next–like any Baroque singer improvising–Messrs Costanzo and Riccomini sung and played in thirds, then, also like Baroque competition, they imitated each other before the whole ensemble ended with (in the opera words, “Glory and Love”).
The second half the program was devoted to Elgar’s String Quintet, probably a major piece in its age. It was played brilliantly by Mr. Nézet-Séguin on piano, leading four Met Opera string players. And the ensemble plainly loved it, though it hardly showed Elgar’s younger tune-full creations.
The centerpieces of the concert belonged to Osvaldo Golijov, sitting in the audience, welcoming the musicians. Mr. Golijov is unclassifiable except in one sense. His music always celebrates something within himself, and within us. The subjects may range from a Talmudic scholar to the wonders of his native South America to rages at historical massacres. But always his soul, his intensity is infused into every note, every style.
Last night, he presented two lamentations. The first was for violinist Geoff Nuttall, who before dying of cancer two years ago, asked his “brother and friend” to compose a posthumous work. The result was The Fire Outlives the Spark, a quote from Shelley’s Adonis. Part of the poem itself was sung by Mr. Costanzo. The seven minutes, conducted by Steven Osgood, for winds and strings, was typically for Mr. Golijov (if anything could be typical!) with music hidden inside music. Quotes from The Creation, from Richard Strauss and Schumann. It was not a happy work, but the paean to a musician was touching.
O. Golijov/L. H. Cohen
Not as touching, though (at least for a dog-lover) as the poem by Leah Hager Cohen for Laika, the dog who went up on the Soviet Sputnik 2, never to return.
Until I read Ms. Cohen’s poem, I had thought that only Homer could portray the death of a dog. This was Argos, who had waited for Ulysses to return, and with joy lay down at his feet when the warrior returned.
Ms. Cohen, though, instinctively, and with dramatic chronology, recited the years of Laika. Dog thinking is a myth. Dog feeling is purer than our own. She caught this. Again, Mr. Costanzo was the singer, playing against the dark low instruments. Low partly for the range of the dog, partly as grieving for history’s sacrifice.
I confess that this poem was so touching that I hardly heard the music (a confession made to the composer at the concert, which he understood).
And so tender, so intuitively understanding is the poem, what choice do I have but show it in its entirety. Not exactly kosher for a music review. But sometimes one must break the rules.
LAIꞰA
By Leah Hager Cohen
“A slice of winter sun/Bright gold–eyes closed–all nose/Sifting scents from the cold./The moon, the rain–so strange–To think that a street dog could ever miss/The rain
“Heaven for a dog./Is this world only”
(Names of canine street-food in Russian)
“The salty skin of the scientist/Who offered his palm for me to lick/And snapped a chain around my neck./Even that was good.
“Not so this orbiting womb./No brothers, no sisters,/No mother’s coursing bloood/.The only heartbeat here is mine./It is speeding, speeding,/Speeding”
(Names of ordinary objects–watches, cigarettes–in Russian)
“You stole me from the street/To cast me in history./What use is history to a dog?/Life for a dog is this moment only.
“Did you really imagine me/As I burn in my orbiting coffin/Pondering the wish/Of Adilya Korovskaya, who/The night before my flight/Wept/Kissed my nose/Begged forgiveness?”
Harry Rolnick
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