In the realm of customer satisfaction surveys, there are no
wrong answers, which is nice. But have you noticed that the questions are
invariably phrased in such a way that they are almost impossible to answer at all? "On a scale of one to ten, how likely would you be to recommend this [concert-motel-restaurant]
to your friends?" Well, recommendations tend to be a yes-or-no thing. In
any case, it depends on which friends.
Even giving out stars isn't as easy as it might seem.
Not long ago we rented a cabin in Park Rapids, Minnesota,
with some friends, and I was later asked to evaluate our stay. There was a
problem with the rental: the septic tank froze right after we got there, putting
the bathrooms and the sink out of commission. Hard to give that place five
stars. On the other hand, we can hardly fault the owner for a problem that
arrives unexpectedly and is widespread in Minnesota at this time of year. He
graciously allowed us the use of the bathroom in his place, a hundred yards
away through the woods at the top of the hill. Most of us made use of a
convenient snow bank nearby, but by all accounts
his house was—dare I use the word?—untidy.)
There were a few other problems. The cabin was listed as
having accommodations for eight but was equipped with only five forks. It had
only one wine glass—a serious deficiency—and there was a desiccated fox-fur
coat hanging in the closet, which reminded me of Psycho for some reason; a Jim Dine bathroom poster sitting on a
chair in the living room; and a wedding picture in the kitchen—man, woman,
child—none of whom resembled the owner in the slightest.
On the other hand, the cabin had large windows looking out
across a frozen lake and was costing each of us only $25 per night. I might
have given it three stars, but I want the owner, a potato farmer by trade, to
do well. He's obviously a beginner on the vacation rental scene. He was close
to despondent over the plumbing freeze-up, but also a bit shocked at how much
it was going to cost to fix it. Three-and-a-half stars?
I sometimes receive
satisfaction surveys from the Saint Paul Chamber Orchestra following a
concert, and the issues are always the same. The music is interesting but varied
in quality, the introductory patter often a little too long, and the program-rustling
in the audience invariably annoying. These outings, considered as a whole,
remain enriching. Four stars?
Not long ago Hilary and I attended a performance of Haydn's Seven Last Words of Christ at the Ordway
Concert Hall. The timing couldn't have been better. It was two days before
Easter, and it also happened to be Haydn's birthday. We arrived early and
caught an informative Fanfare lecture given by a professor from Macalester
College.
The performers, members of the SPCO, had chosen to do a stripped down version of
the piece for string quartet, and they had also decided to play it on the gut
strings in widespread use during Haydn's time. During his opening remarks violinist Kyu Young Kim told us that he and his colleagues almost had the impression, due to the slow-moving and often somber
character of the piece, that they were merely playing for themselves, and
cellist Jonathan Cohen remarked that he considered the performance as an act of
personal meditation. However, the choice of gut strings worked against such an
effect. They tend to groan where metal strings sing, and due to the fact that
they go out of tune easily, there were long pauses between several of the
movements while the musicians retuned.
I was a little bored.
But that's not the end of the story. After the concert, on
the advice of a friend, we drove up the hill for lunch at Tori Ramen, a
hole-in-the-wall place that was bubbling with activity. Tasty food, too.
And that night, as we were sitting down to a pre-Easter
dinner (lamb shoulder chops with asparagus risotto) I put a recording of
Haydn's Seven Last Words on the
stereo. It fit the moment perfectly.
Perhaps this reaction reinforces the remarks of the
musicians that the piece is more of the personal meditation than a concert
crowd-pleaser. And maybe it's easier to appreciate a fine but quiet piece of
music when you're eating a nice meal in your own home than within the stuffy
confines of a concert hall.
I think another factor might also have been in play. Haydn
wrote The Seven Last Words for
orchestra, and later produced a stripped down version for string quartet. I
believe that's the version the SPCO
musicians were using. But the one we were now listening to had been created
from the score of the oratorio
version, which Haydn wrote years later after having visited London and been
impressed by Handel's work in that vein.
Attacca Quartet cellist Andrew Yee, who did the new
arrangement, remarks in the liner notes to this version that "in examining
the arrangement for string quartet, one is struck that this version bears little of the careful crafting typical of the father
of the string quartet. The string parts from the orchestral version remain
mostly intact, [but] the crucial wind parts are left out almost entirely."
Yee goes on to suggest that the oratorio version, crafted
ten years after the original, conveys "Haydn's reflections, and perhaps
reconsiderations, during this hiatus of one of his most personal and intimate
pieces." That's the version Yee used to create the quartet we were
listening to that night. The changes include adding double stops here and
there, adjusting unison passages to octaves, and adding melodies and countermelodies
extracted from the oratorio score that are not present in Haydn's earlier
versions.
Whatever the reason, this new rendering, which I bought years
ago on a whim in a little shop in Stanton, Virginia, during a road trip through
the Shenandoah Mountains, and listened
to only once, was now approaching the sublime.
So, how are we to rate the event? The SPCO performance
wasn't outstanding, but the programming was, if only because it brought renewed
attention and appreciation to a forgotten musical masterpiece.
Four-and-a-half stars?
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