Symphony Review: Guest conductor Darko Butorac leads symphony with artistry for Masterworks 3
One of the most remarkable performances at the Spokane Symphony’s Masterworks 3 presentation on Saturday night took place before the first note was played. During the preconcert lecture from the stage of the Martin Woldson Theater at the Fox, guest conductor Darko Butorac began to describe one of the pieces he had selected for the program: Sergei Prokofiev’s Symphony No. 5 in B flat Op. 100. Instead of providing a general introduction to the background and structure of the piece, and perhaps some speculation as to the composer’s intentions, Butorac distilled a verbal description of every significant musical detail of Prokofiev’s epic tapestry, tracing themes, harmonies and instrumental entrances. He traced motives and melodies as they passed from one instrument to another, passing through sections or whole movements until attaining their full significance at the symphony’s close.
His lecture was an artistic event and demonstrated not only Darko Butorac’s exhaustive mastery of the score, but his love of it and of the art to which he has devoted his life.
Butorac first led the Spokane Symphony in October last year, when he flew across the country from Asheville North Carolina, where he serves as music director of their symphony orchestra, to stand in for an ailing James Lowe at the Masterworks concerts. They were so well received that he was immediately scheduled to return, and was, unlike his first appearance, able to choose the program and soloist and to devote a full schedule of rehearsals to both.
In addition to the Prokofiev symphony, Butorac, a Serbian-American, chose to open the program with a short but poignant work for string orchestra by another Serbian-American, Aleksandra Vrebalov entitled “Gratitude” (2015). Having come to admire the work of American violinist Karisa Chiu, he asked her to appear on the program as soloist in a concerto by Mozart; his Concerto No. 4 in G K. 218 (1775).
All of the outstanding qualities which Butorac exhibited in his preconcert lecture gradually emerged as the concert progressed. Vrebalov’s “Gratitude” began as the closing work in a series of four “Sea Ranch Songs” composed on commission from the Kronos Quartet, after which it was adapted to stand alone as a work for string orchestra. It begins with a quiet murmuring of the most basic elements of tonal music: soft individual tones to which are gradually added repeated triads and chordal arpeggios, and, finally, melodies which, though conventionally tonal, sing with a distinctive and affecting voice. The work is divided into three sections, two of which are essentially lyrical. The third and last section, however, is aggressively stormy and dissonant, ending abruptly with a loud, grating chord, and leaving the listener confused and uncertain of the work’s ultimate meaning.
Throughout “Gratitude” the string players of the Spokane Symphony were keenly attentive to the wishes of their guest conductor, as indicated by his very precise and specific gestures. Dynamic gradations were adjusted not only from note to note, but sometimes within notes, producing a type of refined expressivity suggestive of the singing of a chorus. During the course of the concert, we came to recognize this vocal quality as a consistent and striking attribute of Butorac’s conducting.
As the orchestral texture grew denser and more diverse, first in the Mozart concerto and then in the riotous colors of Prokofiev’s orchestra, the ability of the Spokane Symphony to take on the saturated colors and vocal quality that was asked for by the conductor. To those who recalled Butorac’s rendition of the Mendelssohn “Scottish” Symphony last year, this was no surprise, as he had managed the same feat then, despite having only a few hours of rehearsal time with the orchestra. In an earlier interview, Butorac speaks to this almost mystical attribute of the conductor’s art: “It’s such a powerful feeling to move your hands and have sound come. It is addictive. It is a form of telepathy; that you can imagine a sound and through your motions, you evoke that sound.”
Violinist Karisa Chiu, of course, has more direct control over the sound that emerges from her violin, but her ability to communicate a very distinct and compelling personality through that sound is no less mysterious, nor easier to explain. While appearing to move no differently from any other violinist (provided they have perfect posture, perfect position of every muscle and joint, and perfect intonation), she demonstrated a rare capacity to project a totally distinctive and fascinating intellect as she traversed the well-worn path through Mozart’s 230-year-old score. Anyone in the audience who may have thought a Mozart concerto to be a rather light-weight item to counterbalance the Prokofiev symphony underassessed the miraculous wit and variety in every measure of the score, and underestimated Karisa Chiu’s ability to bring it all to light in a way that makes the work of even some very celebrated violinists of the past and present appear bland by comparison. One felt that, with each phrase the violinist was uncovering a new layer in a chest of treasure, creating an impression of sparkling new colors and glittering insight which dazzled the mind.
In this, Butorac and the orchestra were more than considerate accompanists. One could see the delight on the faces of players throughout the orchestra as they reacted to Chiu’s unceasing outpouring of energy and responded by incorporating it in their own playing. For his part, Butorac was as attentive as his soloist to the countless felicities Mozart packed into every phrase and guided his players in making them all audible to us.
The ovation that greeted the concerto’s conclusion would not have been out of place had Karisa Chiu just played the concertos of Beethoven, Brahms and Tchaikovsky back-to-back. When the clapping and shouting subsided, it was rewarded with a performance of Aleksey Igudesman’s “Funk the String,” a solo work requiring instrumental effects and a sort of jaw-dropping virtuosity unknown in Mozart’s day.
After this, an intermission was not only customary, but needed by both musicians and the audience in order to summon the stamina demanded by the greatest of Prokofiev’s seven symphonies. The Fifth Symphony was premiered in 1944, and the conflict it portrays is usually interpreted to refer to that between the yearning, indomitable spirit of the Soviet people and the brutality of Nazi Germany. As Butorac’s performance made clear, however, it is wrong to force the subtlety and richness of Prokofiev’s music into such tidy narrative boxes. In fact, there is a pervasive irony and ambivalence that hangs about every gesture of this work that curdles every lyrical passage and regards every attempt at playful escape with sneering disdain.
In his virtuoso ramble through the work in the preconcert lecture, Butorac suggested that the symphony concludes by portraying the triumph over the forces of oppression by the indomitable force of the human spirit, and, while there is plenty in this work to support such a reading, the final effect of Saturday’s performance was quite different. Whether because of his interpretation’s prevailing rapid tempos, the relentless clarity with which he separated the different sections of the orchestra or the saturated brilliance in which he showed the score’s myriad colors, Butorac left us with a portrayal of a conflict which was anything but settled, one in which the forces of oppression, while perhaps stymied, were still very much in evidence. Our own historical moment certainly bears this out.
Setting such interpretive quibbles aside, there can only be praise for the virtuosity, color and stamina with which the Spokane Symphony rendered Prokofiev’s brilliant score. As in many of this composer’s works, the writing for strings is exceptionally difficult, with repeated demands on the violins to play in their highest register. This they did not only with accuracy, but with a beauty of and variety of tone that was remarkable.
Prokofiev’s writing for winds places them in crucial positions throughout the symphony’s long course. The clarinet carries much of the weight of the work’s mysterious, ambiguous opening, and goes on to assume a variety of moods, from poignant lyricism in the third movement to manic gaiety in the fourth. Chip Phillips, the orchestra’s principal clarinet, invested each of these roles with both instrumental mastery and vivid dramatic characterization.
In keeping with his position in a long line of Russian symphonists, Prokofiev places great weight on the brass section to energy and inspiration into the orchestral fabric. Aided by the vibrant acoustics of the the Fox, the horns, trumpets, trombones and tuba of the Spokane Symphony provided the richness, variety and volume of sound needed to elevate the performance from the exciting to the unforgettable.