Repeat Counts as Pleasure – San Francisco Classical Voice March 14, 2010

By Beeri Moalem

One of my favorite composition teachers once said, “Any buffoon can get a premiere. A real achievement is a repeat performance.”

Last May, I reviewed the Ives Quartet’s premiere of Dan Becker’s workTime Rising. At the time, I was intrigued by its unusual macro structure: three tiny movements — or “ingredients” — followed by a much longer movement: the final product. Hearing the Ives play the work again on Sunday, I knew what to expect, and this time I was struck by its rhythmic complexity and the slowly moving harmony — each first presented as ingredients, then folded into the final piece.

Violist Jodi Levitz explained, in Becker’s absence, that the composer initially thought of the piece as a metaphor for baking bread, so he gave the ingredients titles such as “flower,” “water,” and “yeast.” But after the fact, he opted instead to give them typical cheesy titles for minimalist music: titles such as “sky,” “wind,” and “wing,” with the final product being called “Fly.” (The capitalization patterns are the composer’s.) Only the piece’s overall title retains the original idea in the word “Rising,” as in rising dough.

Too often these days, classical music audiences are exposed to new pieces only once. Given the complexity of much of today’s music, that’s truly a shame. To fully appreciate a piece of music, a listener usually must undertake a long relationship with it; sometimes the relationship lasts a lifetime. This is why I was delighted to be assigned to review Time Rising a second time.

Becker’s music is relatively accessible, to begin with, but there’s still a wealth of complexity to indulge the ear, the brain, and the heart. Rhythms churn against each like complex engines. Levitz drew a metaphor of trains going in opposite directions, or spinning spokes on a wheel. The mechanical element is definitely present in the piece, but there’s also a biological stirring, like the pulse of blood or the activity in a beehive.

The complex rhythms that together create this bustling texture are difficult to execute by humans. The Quartet counts in threes, fours, fives, and whatnot, coalescing together on common multiples of the beats. (In the case of 3, 4, and 5, this would be every 60th beat, or: 4×15, 3×20, and 5×12.)

In a postconcert reception, Ives’ first violinist, Bettina Mussumeli, explained that the Quartet has already performed this piece at least six times. While it has gotten easier, she says, everyone still has to count like mad. “It’s really difficult for concentration,” she said. “When it clicks, I wonder why I ever thought it was hard. But if you stop counting, it’s impossible to get back on.”

Indeed, second violinist Susan Freier was visibly counting as if her life depended on it, grounding the ensemble with a rock-solid pulse.

Sometimes the melodic lines are only a 16th apart, which makes it easy to coalesce and play together. To paraphrase Mussumeli: “Suddenly we’re perfectly together … yet when we do have to play together, it’s much tougher.” A funny paradox, that.

Dough Rising Betwixt Mozart and Brahms

Time Rising was straddled by two standard-repertoire masterpieces of contrasting moods: Mozart’s “The Hunt” Quartet in B-flat Major, one of the brightest, most enjoyable pieces in the literature; and Brahms’ Clarinet Quintet in B Minor, a sad, introspective work. Most chamber music lovers have heard these pieces many more than two times and have a lengthy relationship with them.

The Mozart was tackled head-on as the outdoorsy, brassy piece that it is — perfect for the first springlike day of the year. Mussumeli’s crisply articulated anacrusis to the piece opened the concert with energetic confidence. Mozart is often handled with precious silk gloves, but the Ives Quartet held nothing back in its interpretation. The energy would sometimes slip into intonation or ensemble errors, but nothing that a little extra rehearsal won’t patch.

Cellist Stephen Harrison was playing a newly acquired 100-year-old Italian instrument, which sounded fabulous. Having heard the Ives Quartet at least five times now, I definitely noticed an improvement in the cello tone. A highlight came in the second movement, in one of those dear moments when Mozart dispenses with complex counterpoint and features a melody with a straightforward accompanimental pattern. These sections spotlight the melody, usually in the violin. When the cello receives the melody, however, the instance is that much more special. Harrison and his new cello shone through.

Although the Brahms is a heavy, often gloomy work, it somehow leaves the listener with a sense of contentment, like the peace of old age. Guest clarinetist Jerome Simas blended remarkably well (almost too well) with the strings. Somehow, the clarinet’s usually piercing tone sounded lost among the strings, though it emerged once in a while to make a melodic statement.

The concert was presented by Music at Kohl Mansion, in Burlingame, a terrific organization that regularly packs a sold-out crowd in front of its gorgeous, Gothic-style mantelpiece. Yet in the fireplace, instead of fire, burns the passionate flame of music.