Mesmerizing Suk, Fiery Dvořák from the Canton Symphony Orchestra
By Tom Wachunas
Given that the
theme for the February 22 Canton Symphony Orchestra program at Umstattd Hall
was “Czech Mates,” one would reasonably expect selections by Czech composers.
So it’s interesting that the first work on the program was by Mozart, something
of a country unto himself. His Symphony No. 38, “Prague,” is anything but
Bohemian in character, and fit the bill if only because it premiered in the
Czech capital to great acclaim in 1787.
That said, the
three-movement work was quite effective in warming this audience on a very
frigid afternoon. Call it a slow but steady burn. The lengthy first movement is
just that, with its unfolding of several contrasting melodies. Heartrending
lyricism from the strings and winds in the somber second movement further
raised the emotional temperature until the Presto
finale seemed to erupt into a lighthearted rollick.
Not surprisingly,
conductor Gerhardt Zimmermann was genuinely exuberant when he introduced Josef
Suk’s Scherzo Fantastique. He noted
that the work, never previously performed by the orchestra, is “…a wonderful
piece, a fabulous piece.” That’s an understatement.
Fantastique indeed, this symphonic poem is
a wholly enchanting musical gem. Through all of the zesty dance rhythms from
the woodwinds, the lilting waltzes and solemn hymns from the cellos, and the
riotous, untroubled joyousness of the blazing finale, the orchestra articulated
the work’s shimmering lyrical facets with astonishing authority, clarity and
grace. During one magical moment,
Zimmermann halted his characteristically subtle hand movements altogether and
simply stood gazing at his violin section. There was on his face a look of
arrested ecstasy. The Maestro was clearly caught up, like we in the audience,
in the achingly sweet poeticism of mesmerizing melody.
That same spirit
of being caught up and captured was powerfully evident in guest artist Joshua Roman’s performance of
Antonin Dvořák’s beloved Concerto for Violoncello and Orchetra in B minor. There
must be an old soul behind Roman’s boyish countenance, for he played as if at
one with the passionate heart of Dvořák himself.
Among the many
remarkable aspects here was the uncanny sense of cellist and orchestra being
inextricably united without one ever overpowering the other. Yet Roman was at
once the inspired, fiery leader and accompanist. At times he eyed various
sections of the orchestra between his solo passages, listening and looking
intently, encouragingly. And those solo passages? Whether in soaring legato
mode or in his crisp arpeggiations replete with thrilling instrumental effects,
Roman’s technique was so breathtaking that he often appeared to visibly swoon
over the music’s dramatic sweep, its melodic eloquence and lush harmonic
colors.
You’d think that
after such a fierce exposition of soulful abandon that Roman would be utterly
spent. But he regaled the enthralled house with an encore best described as a
spontaneous combustion of styles, performed with all the intensity of a rock
guitar soloist. This was a dazzlingly fast, improvisatory romp through folksy
fiddling, furious strumming and chording, and staccato percussive effects I
never thought possible with a cello. Was that smoke I saw rising from his bow?
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