Scheherazade.2
Seattle Symphony
John Adams, conductor; Leila Josefowicz, soloist
Scheherazade.2
So, I bought one ticket, because several weeks ago, upon hearing a random advertisement spot on the radio broadcast, I heard that Mr. John Adams would be returning to Seattle for two concerts of his most recent work, a second violin concerto, Scheherazade.2; that it would be premiered in the hall (not globally/nationally); that he would attend a Q&A afterwards; that the violinist who this was written for will be performing the work; that although the website tells me: $21 - Row A (blocked view), I pay anyway, because I know the joint, and I will deal with the strained neck and new-morning ache, because I get to watch J.A.'s movement and L.J.'s stunning, lively performance in POWER and GRACE, right up front, right up in their breath; and that never hearing this work before, intentionally since learning of this after that first ad, I was expecting to be (and I certainly was) in something like a haze, fugue-like and pretty unspectacular to be around, because for those 50 minutes or so, I was engrossed in something I have never been a part of. Sure, maybe listening to certain performances I have hit the nadirs/zeniths in a retrospective. Being there, however, witnessing and dealing with this absurd performance, as it were, I realized that this thing I was watching, this act -- this was true solo performance. The music + her + the precision backing the apex = EXHIBIT A: THE CONCERTO.
Having said that, if you like Adams, you would like the piece, but it was nothing spectacular of his. The form and variation, from my perspective, was somewhat limited given his catalogue. It was made clear that this piece was the latter's gift -- her own and ours.
And so, then there was Leila Josefowicz. Let us not dally on the virtuosity -- that is expected. Let us no ponder the oeuvre, that she is a champion of modern works, and for that alone, she deserves attention.
Instead, let us marvel in her being her, and her alone. Shredding on stops, she stares down the cellos and basses in return; she culls on Adams; she has got this stance that is almost Diana-like, commanding the orchestra and then on the next turn, staring us (the people) down with threatening gestures; ripping horse hairs on every other break; you have a difficult time looking her in the eye because she stares right back at you; she makes the face that could at one angle look artificial, and on another (within the music) perfectly lost in step and narrative.
HER HAIR IS SHORT YET IT FLOWS BACK LIKE SOME PERPETUAL WIND FLIES IN HER FACE
I watched her and thought: Who else should be doing this?
Read about the work, recent Adams' interviews, etc., and you'd hear how enthralled and enthusiastic and beyond all else, inspired to write this work because of L. Josefowicz. She was the woman he was thinking of, the empowering stalwart of expression, talent, and drive.
John Adams speaks the truth.
Adams, by the way, looked me in the eye like four times, and it made me super uncomfortable because I was truly star-struck, as it were, and was thinking, Holy Hell - John Adams, yo
Edit: Ah, sorry! Also Elgar's March No. 3 and Respighi's Pines of Rome . . . .