Years before a deluge of television commercials and film usage had undeservedly turned Carmina Burana’s opening “O Fortuna” into the go-to piece of music for suggesting anxiety and impending doom, there had been numerous attempts to stage the work as composer Carl Orff intended, as a scenic cantata with choreography, sets, and theatrical stage action. For the most part, these theatrical mountings—such as productions by New York City Opera and San Francisco Opera in the late 50s— have often floundered. It appears there is a very fine line between imagination and reality in Orff’s work that dictates how the mood and language is perceived, particularly by contemporary audiences.
In their Masterworks concerts on Thursday and Friday, the Knoxville Symphony Orchestra and maestro Aram Demirjian found no reason to over-complicate Carmina Burana with scenic distractions, and, as a result, found a perfectly convincing, and exciting, balance of theatricality, drama, and music. Along with the Knoxville Choral Society and soloists (soprano Lindsay Russell, bass-baritone Daniel Johnson-Webb, and tenor Andrew Skoog), the KSO performance put the spotlight on what is important in the piece: a relatively simple musical language that wallows in the indulgent fantasies of spring, charms and satisfies the listener musically, and supports the bawdy and poetic spirit of the Medieval texts.
However, simple does not mean simplistic. One was struck by the timelessness of Orff’s music through Demirjian’s balance of instrumental textures and dynamics, yielding a style that feels neither traditional nor contemporary. Perhaps, that is the reason for the work’s mass popularity—a popularity that mysteriously transcends the variables of musical taste.
The Knoxville Choral Society, tasked with conveying most of the poetic lyrics of Latin and Old German, was impressive—diction was ultra-crisp and clean, solidly backed up with a beautiful balance between sections.
Equally impressive were the soloists, themselves tasked with the more direct emotional communication of the work’s spirit of eroticism and longing. All three parts meander through moments of lusciousness, yet rise to extreme highs meant to express excess in consumption, both sexual and alcoholic. Soprano Russell, previously heard by Knoxville audiences as Gretel in Knoxville Opera’s production of Hansel and Gretel, showed off a beautiful crystalline tone, dabbed with a soft coloratura moment, that could not hide what seems to be a substantial vocal strength.
Andrew Skoog is one of those rare tenors who can really do justice to the part, not just in the fabulous high-altitude flight of head-voice, but also in injecting subtle humor and irony into the quasi-scandalous text. Johnson-Webb, also very familiar to Knoxville audiences, brought his velvety richness to a part that is poetically and sadistically difficult.
While Carmina Burana fully occupied the second half of the evening—and most of the audience’s anticipation—Demirjian made a couple of good choices for the first half. He opened with Gustav Mahler’s Blumine, a work that began life as the second movement of the composer’s Symphony No. 1. While most agree that Mahler was justified in excising the movement from the symphony, that certainly hasn’t prevented it from having a life of its own. Rediscovered in the 1950s and first performed in 1969 at the Aldeburgh Festival in Britain, with Benjamin Britten conducting, the work is beautifully and softly eloquent. That eloquence was handled by Demirjian and the orchestra with a sense of gentle contemplation that seemed to grow organically out of a gorgeously elegant trumpet solo by Phillip Chase Hawkins. That solo sets the stage for other exposed instrumental passages, sensitively played here by the horn (Jeffery Whaley), the oboe (Claire Chenette), and the clarinet (Gary Sperl).
Demirjian followed Blumine with something categorically different: the six-movement Suite from Die Dreigroschenoper (The Threepenny Opera) by Kurt Weill. Although this arrangement by Max Schönherr is deliberately episodic and differs from Weill’s own, it still exudes a charm that draws the listener in. From raucous to mellow to rhythmically jazzy, the work is a feast of instrumental textures. Satirically melancholy with muted trumpets and trombones, the work sports a lot of notable moments, like the “Mack the Knife” tune begun by trombonist Sam Chen then developed by the orchestra. Concertmaster William Shaub also provided a beautifully rendered passage, as did flutist Hannah Hammel, trumpeter Hawkins, and oboist Chenette.
Once again, the audience was charmed by the evening’s introductions taken by orchestra members—Shawn White on Thursday evening and Ruth Bacon on Friday evening. This is certainly a marvelous touch that sets the audience at ease and defines the orchestra’s players as everyday people—albeit extremely talented ones that have invested their lives toward the art of music-making.
Great review! I share your enthusiasm.