A listener might well view the current program of the Boston Symphony Orchestra (this reviewer heard the Friday afternoon performance) as political commentary—though of course the music was chosen long before last November’s election. Making his BSO debut with these concerts, the Louisville Orchestra’s music director Teddy Abrams chose pieces by Russian and American composers, all three of them gay men; the works by Michael Tilson Thomas and Leonard Bernstein promulgate, to a degree, the notion of diversity, equity, and inclusion—before that term was coined. Abrams and his soloists, Taiwanese-Australian violinist Ray Chen and African American bass-baritone Dashon Burton, demonstrated emphatically why they have received numerous honors while still in the summer of their youth.
Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky wrote his Violin Concerto, Op. 35, during the “crisis years” of 1874-78. In the perhaps foremost crisis, the composer realized that he had made a grievous error trying to conform to society by marrying a woman, leading him to run off and leave his wife with his sister and her husband. As his first completed composition after this disastrous wedding, the high-spirited concerto arguably served as occupational therapy for Tchaikovsky as he managed to be honest with himself about his sexual identity. In Ray Chen’s hands, joy and exuberant display predominated in the solo part, and Abrams led the orchestra with immaculate ensemble and in close sympathy with Chen’s interpretation. The soloist’s affinity for this piece showed virtually constantly on his face as well as in his playing, with the first movement reflecting exhilaration, passion, playfulness, freedom, and even a hint of humor in the passages of overt display in the cadenza. In the middle movement Canzonetta, following the beautiful woodwinds introduction, Chen’s Stradivarius sang the plangent theme affectingly. The performers most certainly took the final movement’s tempo marking literally, Allegro vivacissimo, with delicate but ever brilliant playing as if to outdo the finale of Mendelssohn’s violin concerto in light-footed virtuosity. The tertiary theme over the cellos’ drone, however, made an especially striking contrast with its broad swagger, later reiterated in the violin’s stratospheric high register. At the end, of course, the accumulation of momentum led to a spectacular conclusion. The prolonged ovation led to an encore which was, unusually, also for violin and orchestra: Serenade by Eunike Tanzil, described by Abrams as a “cinematic waltz.” The musical equivalent of comfort food, it featured elegant tunes and didn’t withhold delicious schmaltz. The composer, present in Symphony Hall, received the audience’s warm applause.
Michael Tilson Thomas (b. 1944) composed his Whitman Songs in 1993-94 for baritone and piano, orchestrated them in 1999, and revised them in 2023; he describes the three songs, based on poems from different sections of Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass, as “a journey from dissonance to consonance.” “Who Goes There?” (from Song of Myself) shows some influence of Tilson Thomas’s mentor Leonard Bernstein, incorporating elements of jazz and popular music as well as an extensive battery of percussion. Dashon Burton convincingly met the demands of the wide-ranging and at times disjointed vocal line, but Abrams unfortunately allowed the orchestra all too often to smother the singer’s words (even occasionally his pitches) despite Burton’s sizeable voice—fortunately, the texts were projected on a screen above the musicians. Burton did play up the drama at important points, notably “In all people I see myself, none more and not one a barleycorn less. And the good or bad I say of myself, I say of them.” Happily, the balance problems disappeared in “At Ship’s Helm” (from Sea Drift) thanks to mostly lighter orchestration and a more flowing vocal line. The singer and instrumentalists sensitively shaped key bits of text such as the warning of a bell-buoy to avoid sea reefs and the likening of body and soul to a “ship aboard the ship.” This piece provided a lyrical interlude between the more energetic and emphatic outer songs. As with the first song, in “We Two Boys Together Clinging” (from Calamus) Tilson Thomas uses syncopation to avoid a sense of regular meter, possibly in parallel to the poet’s shunning of conventional poetry. The text, echt Whitman, unabashedly celebrates the present participle: clinging, enjoying, stretching, clutching, eating, drinking, loving, soldiering, dancing, and many more. Burton enjoyed the vivid melismata on “loving” and “dancing.” The piece built to its high point—the famous phrase “fulfilling our foray” repeated multiple times—then tapered off tenderly with a reprise of the title. While these songs are clearly modern and incorporate multiple styles of music, they are not avant-garde; with the proviso of adjusting orchestra/singer balances mainly in the first song, Burton and Abrams will be powerful advocates for this interesting song set that deals with individuality, artistic identity, and the tension between unconventionality and a conformist society—in short, many of the issues our country is currently grappling with.
The concert closed with Leonard Bernstein’s Symphonic Dances from West Side Story, a “symphonic fantasia” comprising nine numbers from the eponymous musical but reordering them for more effective concert performance. Nonetheless, the social nonconformity of forbidden love remains the central theme threading through the Symphonic Dances. Abrams and the BSO established from the start the quintessentially New York feel of the piece—cocky, sly, in your face, and brash—with the aid of finger-snapping, much syncopation, saxophone, vibraphone, etc. The tender and lush melody of “Somewhere” soon emerged from this, however, to set up the dichotomy of posturing gang members and the interracial romance of Maria and Tony. Even in this beautiful love music, though, there sometimes appeared uneasily clashing harmonies to remind us of unresolved conflict. Following a brief, playful scherzo, the musicians fully caught both the fun and menace of the wild Mambo (Abrams turned momentarily to cue the audience when to shout Mambo! along with the orchestra), bristling with Latin-style percussion and brilliant brass. Another highlight was the sneaky “Cool” fugue—a brilliant compositional conceit of Bernstein’s—which progressed inevitably into the danger and ultimately tragedy of the Rumble. A solo flute passage of drooping figures led us to the soothing celestial string music, horn solo, and flute of the Finale. The juxtaposition of “Somewhere” and the subdued funereal aftermath of the rumble painted a profoundly poignant scene at the very end.
I commend Teddy Abrams and BSO management for the imaginative programming of this concert—and of course my thanks to Ray Chen, Dashon Burton, and the Boston Symphony players for their fine perfromances. Whether or not they intended the program to be political commentary, these pieces dealt with knotty recurring issues in the body politic, providing both warning and comfort for people in our deeply troubled country.
I second Terry’s comments about Chen’s interpretation and tone. Sitting about ten rows in front of Mr. Chen, I found it revealing to watch the orchestra’s reaction to the performance. While the audience leapt to its feet after it concluded, only three players that I could see responded with applause or the usual bow-tapping that greets most soloists, and their facial responses ranged from stoney-faces to mild embarrassment. This was in sharp contrast to their overt enthusiasm for baritone Dashon Burton in the MTT songs (who was magnificent). Overall, I thought this concert was as close as I’ve ever experienced to a Pops concert by the BSO.
Comment by Rob — March 18, 2025 at 6:32 am
And Thomson writes in that same review:
“I realize that my liking or not liking what Mr. Heifetz plays and how he plays it is a matter of no import to the stellar spaces in which he moves… [his virtuosity] was admirable and occasionally very, very beautiful. The fellow can fiddle… he is justly admired and handsomely paid for it.”
I saw some members of the audience burst into tears from Chen’s first entrance. I wish nothing but for us to have that experience more often in our lives.
Comment by Terry F — March 17, 2025 at 3:45 pm
>> No one ever complained to Kreisler for being “too Kreisler”
Oh, sure they did. Sloppy technique among other things. And I bet many here know Virgil Thomson’s review headline of a Heifetz recital: ‘Silk-Underwear Music’.
Comment by David Moran — March 17, 2025 at 2:59 pm
For better or worse it sounds like Mr. Chen is vying to be the Lang Lang of the violin. There will always be a market for that sort of thing even if it doesn’t appeal to everyone. There have always been showboat musicians, but somehow serious musicians have managed to survive. If Mr.Chen can inspire some young people to delve further into the music that’s great. Those fans who don’t ever go further into the music were never going to be part of the classical audience anyway, but at least some of their money is going towards classical music.
Comment by Jim M — March 17, 2025 at 1:37 pm
David, thanks for the link – I’d missed that one.
Cecilia, every great musician places their own identifiable stamp on everything they play; it just so happens that Chen’s conception of this particular work ran so contrary to my own expectations that it was, admittedly, grating. I want to make clear that I respect Ray Chen’s accomplishments as a violinist.
This is a link to his performance of the Mendelssohn Concerto from 10 years ago in 2015:
https://youtu.be/I03Hs6dwj7E?feature=shared
Though this does not rank among my favorite recordings of this work and is not entirely free of distracting mannerisms, it is clear that Chen absolutely can play with more nobility and repose if he chooses to – he simply did not do so in the Tchaikovsky.
Regarding your point about the composer’s intentions, I think that is a bit of a dangerous slope – it would be a boring world if musicians were only allowed to play a work in the one exact prescribed way that the composer allegedly intended! Some interpretive choices (not to mention significant cuts, edits or even reorchestrations!) made by a violinist such as Elman or Kreisler would run afoul of today’s standards of “musical integrity”, but more importantly uphold traditions and values which are increasingly in short supply today including warmth and beauty of tone, unforced rubato, singing portamenti, awareness of phrase and structure, and a disciplined Romantic sense of higher purpose and strength of spirit that can’t quite be explained in words. No one ever complained to Kreisler for being “too Kreisler” ;)
If Chen can inspire young people to take up the violin and/or create new audiences for this music, that is already a worthy achievement in my view. I only hope that those students will keep an open mind and have the curiosity to explore and appreciate the artists of previous generations and their musicianship.
Comment by Terry F — March 17, 2025 at 11:50 am
Terry F, Cecilia, interesting that no one appears to have read (obviously no one citing) Madonna’s sharp take:
https://www.bostonglobe.com/2025/03/14/arts/boston-symphony-orchestra-ray-chen-teddy-abrams-michael-tilson-thomas/
Comment by David R Moran — March 17, 2025 at 2:57 am
Maybe he got to the mountaintop, but in my opinion at the expense of musical integrity.
Comment by Cecilia — March 16, 2025 at 8:43 pm
Accustomed as I am to more conventional interpretations of the Tchaikovsky, I was initially put off by the high-flying athleticism of Chen’s approach to the piece. But by the time he reached the first movement cadenza, I realized that I was exhilarated. The Tchaikovsky is one of the Himalayan peaks of the repertory and there are always several paths up a mountain. Chen’s got him to the top.
Comment by stephen Wigler — March 16, 2025 at 8:12 pm
Terry, I agree with you wholeheartedly about Chen’s playing. It was far too much Chen and not a lot of Tchaikovsky. It was a very difficult experience.
However, regarding his influence on younger audiences, is that really what you want them to be listening to? Do you think they will be drawn to and enjoy performances by performers who honor the composer and do play the actual music that the composer wrote as he/she intended it after listening to Mr. Chen? Wouldn’t they be better off and more satisfied with a different genre of music well done? Is badly played classical music something to be encouraged?
I was hoping no young person who is interested in classical music was there on Saturday to hear the shredding of the Tchaikovsky.
On the other hand, MTT and Lenny were well played and much enjoyed.
Comment by Cecilia — March 16, 2025 at 6:36 pm
For all his technical prowess and facility, Chen’s performance of the Tchaikovsky came across as incessantly aggressive and virtually devoid of any introspective beauty. Nearly every phrase, even if played with a generally attractive tone, was marred by an inconsistently applied vibrato bordering on the hysterical and by heavy accents of the bow emphasizing and lengthening seemingly random notes. This was particularly disturbing in the singing passages of the 1st and 2nd movements. The elegance and charm evident in recordings of this ever-popular work by violinists such as Elman, Milstein, Heifetz, Nadiene, Oistrakh, and Chen’s own mentor Aaron Rosand is missed.
That being said, Chen’s positive persona and ability to attract new and younger audiences to the violin and the art of classical music cannot be overlooked – he has had and will probably continue to have significant influence in this regard. His intense, almost obsessive eagerness to share and project music to his audience is likely his greatest strength and his greatest weakness. I hope that he will continue to explore and develop more variety in his music making.
Comment by Terry F — March 16, 2025 at 12:09 pm
Agree with Seth (above) but it’s a losing battle. When my father attended BSO concerts in the 1930’s men commonly wore tuxedoes. And when I began to attend in the early 1960s all men wore coats and ties. By the early 1980s some men thought it OK to wear sweaters. Ties eventually became a minority point of view. And so forth. Baseball caps seem inevitable. Perhaps a ban on caps worn backwards!
Comment by Daniel F. — March 16, 2025 at 10:19 am
I noticed three audience members wearing baseball hats during the Sat eve performance, one in the second row orchestra! Basic etiquette dictates hats should not be worn indoors. While this rule can be ignored at informal gatherings, does anyone think there should be a minimal dress code for Symphony Hall prohibiting baseball hats?
Comment by Seth Parker — March 16, 2025 at 9:44 am