William Wolfram Plays Brahms
The best way to approach an orchestral performance is simply to shut your eyes and listen, allowing sensory deprivation to ensure that through your ears you truly FEEL the music. In this way, whether you are an amateur attendee who has never heard a symphony perform or a seasoned musical patron who can pick out the sounds of each individual instrument, you can just follow where the music takes you and enjoy the visions that it produces.
The evening, featuring William Wolfram, was dedicated to German artists and the themes that tend to reside within their music. It began, appropriately, with Carl Maria von Weber’s "Overture" to the opera "Der Freischütz." Weber is said to be the progenitor of German Romantic Opera: a style of music that allowed more freedom and focused on a nationalistic style focused on folk music and stories.
With the exception of two key mistakes -- an overly sharp start to the piece by the brass section and a sharp chord during a crucial oboe solo -- the Orlando Symphony’s performance lived up to the author’s concept and was played beautifully.
After this overture, a piece entitled "Capriccio" by a local artist, Daniel Crozier, was introduced to the playlist. Capriccio is an Italian word meaning fancy or whimsy where ultimately the concept is, according to Merriam-Webster, "an instrumental piece in free form usually lively in tempo and brilliant in style." Mr. Crozier is esteemed by many of the patrons of the Orlando Symphony, and while I embrace his concept, I had less of an appreciation for the piece itself. I expect the same will be true for most of my readers.
Piece number three for the evening was Paul Hindemith’s "Symphonic Metamorphosis of Themes by Carl Maria von Weber." It seemed odd for Hindemith to have composed a tribute to Weber as Hindemith’s music was utilitarian in nature: intended for specific events or functions. As opposed to Weber, whose music was simply intended to regale audiences, Hindemith insisted that, "The days of composing for the sake of composing are perhaps gone forever."
Nonetheless, the composer succeeded in producing a four-movement work that contained his own elements while still paying faithful tribute to Weber. The result was truly exotic and played beautifully by the Orlando Philharmonic. It was the perfect example of a piece that could be staccato and high pitched while still sounding magnificent.
The second movement was a bit chaotic at times but ended in the most alluring fashion, almost fading into the distance and leading to the third movement which was soft and sweet. In it, one could practically taste honey and see flower buds popping forth from the soil. There was a master flautist who is deserving of a great brava for the splendor of this movement.
Ending in a march, the fourth movement gave rise to the image of two opposing armies-one vastly outnumbered by the other-and yet despite a desperate sounding cry, as if for retreat halfway through, you can literally see a young commander rallying his troops ultimately to victory.
Up until this concert, I had never heard the name William Wolfram and so I was surprised that the Orlando Philharmonic Orchestra had him as the headline, above themselves, given that he was only partaking in one piece. It wasn’t until after his performance that I understood why they had been saving him -- the crème de la crème -- for a concerto that would move both the most inexperienced listener and the greatest critic to silence in sheer awe.
Before I get into the sheer transcendent quality of Mr. Wolfram’s performance, it seems pertinent to give you some background on this master of his craft. A graduate of The Julliard School, Mr. Wolfram rocketed to greatness after his debut concerto performance under the direction of Leonard Slatkin with the Pittsburg Symphony.
Since then, he has been awarded several medals including a bronze medal at the Tchaikovsky Piano competition in Moscow and two silver medals for his performances in both the William Kapell as well as the Walter W. Naumburg International Piano Competitions. Wolfram has played with nearly every critically acclaimed orchestra in the United States as well as with orchestras from six out of the seven continents. If Antarctica should ever form a reputable symphony, I have no doubt that he will be invited to play with them as well.
Part two of the concert was a performance of Johannes Brahms’ "Piano Concerto No. 1 in D Minor, Op 15." The piece itself is so complex and resplendent that explaining its sound nearly requires one to paint a picture of each movement. Imagine for a moment that the five stages of grief could be captured in music. That is the best way to picture the first movement or "Maestoso" -- as a conversation between the piano and the orchestra.
It begins fast but with a mid-level, mournful tone, as if a discovery has been made by the piano. At first there remains a ray of hope (heralded by the strings, flutes, oboe and a single divine French horn) as if this find may be a dream. Denial. At this point the piano interrupts, protesting in distress that it cannot be true and yet a chorus of strings (violins, violas, cellos, etc.) calmly tells him there is no fighting this. Anger.
Further protestation from master piano continues and he begins a dance with the violins and flutes as if attempting to persuade them otherwise. Bargaining. Alas the timpani is emphatic and the piano stops arguing. He continues to plead, but no longer desperately, for he has realized there is in fact no hope. Depression.
Accompanied by the flutes and then the violins, he makes peace with reality and is reassured by the French horn that this is the correct path. Acceptance. Having accepted his fate, the piano embraces it and decides to move forward forcefully with the rest of the orchestra at his stead.
Movement number two, the "Adagio," is like watching a college seminar on ethics or philosophy in session. This time, Master Piano is the professor and the orchestra his eager students. The piece starts out wistfully as the conversation begins and Master Piano discusses his subject with flute and oboe answering in agreement.
However, then there is a mournful cry of disbelief from the orchestra to which Master Piano offers a thoughtful response. With each question or protestation he is ready with a well thought out, diplomatic answer. Even in his calm however, it is easy to tell that he is burdened by his own knowledge.
Finally, we reach the concluding movement, the "Rondo: Allegro non tropo." This is a portrait of a ballet company. It begins fast paced with Master Piano this time acting as a twirling principal ballerina commanding the stage, with the orchestra as her ever-faithful chorus. Suddenly she is challenged by the male lead, but she refuses to give way, dancing circles around him.
He tries pleading and she appears to entertain his conversation while in reality having no intention of bending to his will in the slightest. Bargaining is his next approach -- can they not be partners and share the stage? No. She is diplomatic but absolute in the fact that she will retain her seat of power.
"I’m sorry," she says, "but you cannot follow my lead, let alone upstage me. At this point, the chorus interrupts and ultimately tells him that his attempts will be fruitless. "Look at her," they say. "Her beauty, her grace, her infallibility -- his quest is a pointless one. The stage is HERS." She dances along with them now, having successfully marked and defended her territory.
As it turns out, some of my visions were not far off from their original inspiration. The Maestoso was sparked by two intertwined events; the attempted suicide and eventual demise of Brahms’ mentor, Robert Schumann, and his eventual growing affection for Schumann’s widow Clara -- a love that he knew was out of the question to pursue. The "Adagio" too was exaltation in two parts.
Once again, the first was for the mentor-mentee relationship with Schumann and the second was dedicated to Clara and reminds us of the tension displayed, as if the piano were burdened by its own knowledge. The finale in the "Rondo: Allegro non troppo" did not have a specific conception behind it as much as it was Brahms’ attempt to end in the traditional fashion of a concerto -- on a lighter note that yet returns the audience, as the playbill puts it, "to the dynamics of size and power established in the opening movement."
Following the performance, I had the good fortune to join the symphony, staff, and some VIP’s at a brief reception backstage. At this little gathering, I was able to meet the master pianist himself. What I found, when I met William Wolfram was not the stereotypical, haughty musical genius with little time or interest for the little people, but rather a gentleman, with his feet firmly on the ground and a sense of humor that was both clever and intoxicating.
I knew I only had a few minutes with him because of the crowds surrounding us and so I asked one question; knowing that he had only performed with the Orlando Philharmonic once before, my query was whether he ever intended to play with them again. His response was among the most unforgettable I have ever received; "I intend to perform here again if I’m invited. If I’m not invited I won’t come...although, that should be done one day -- a soloist just showing up and saying, ’I’m here? When do we begin?’"
That evening left the audience feeling as though we had encountered a god amongst men and listened to the regaling music of Heaven itself. Even Mr. Ross Amkraut’s seventh grade class at Avalon Middle School were transfixed and gave some impressive reviews of their own. Morgan C. was quoted as saying, "I was amazed that the piano could make me feel happiness, sadness, and fury all at the same time."
Classmate Ashley R. went into greater detail saying, "I loved the piano player William Wolfram. He was truly splendid when it was his turn to play his part. I mean that man could play.... Really, really, play the piano right. Even when he played in the second movement, his solo just gave me chills." No one captured the evening better, however, than Anne C. who, I predict, may yet have a writing career in her future.
According to Anne, "I never once had the feeling of my heart melting while listening to someone live, but as soon as I heard Mr. Wolfram play it just made me feel like I was floating on a cloud. I remember getting goose-bumps from how wonderful it sounded...there was this intensity there that you can’t really feel when you watch from YouTube you had to be there to feel it. So thank you for the music and this experience of hearing a professional orchestra/ piano player. That was a night that I will never forget."
There is no question that if William Wolfram ever ventures back to the City Beautiful, I will be first in line to get a ticket to his performance and I heartily encourage you, dear reader, to follow my lead. Four out of five stars for a performance that left us quite literally breathless -- as if we’d had a glimpse of paradise -- once Mr. Wolfram joined the mix.
The Orlando Philharmonic Orchestra Presents William Wolfram Plays Brahms ran through January 14 The Bob Carr Performing Arts Center, 401 West Livingston Street, Orlando, FL 32801. For more information, visit http://www.orlando-theatre.com/theaters/bob-carr-performing-arts-centre/theater.
