David Zinman @ Severance Hall 3/25 Last weekend at Severance Hall, the Cleveland Orchestra welcomed back several favorites: guest conductor David Zinman, pianist Richard Goode and three pieces of music not heard for a good many years. Mr. Zinman first appeared here some twenty-five years ago, and since then has been a regular and welcome visitor. To begin this weekend's program, he chose the Cockaigne Concert Overture by Edward Elgar, the Briton's tribute to London, as he saw it at the turn of the 20th century. Written shortly after the death of Queen Victoria, the music is regal and majestic with passages of light-hearted Cockney chatter and street sounds, as well as a brisk, looking-forward attitude, heralding the new era as it changed from stately Victorian to opulent Edwardian. The strings were exceptionally lush sounding and yet transparent at the same time. When the composer unleashed all the pomp at his command, he also included an optional part for organ, ably played by Joella Jones at the console of the Norton Memorial Organ.

Unless you were very familiar with the music of Bartók, you might not immediately recognize it as such. The terms 'lyrical' and 'melodious' might not often be associated with the music of Bartók, but they certainly do describe this concerto. It is not as dramatic as many of his works are, but it keeps both orchestra and soloist busy. The pianist, especially, is kept busy producing torrents of notes, but in a less percussive fashion than the composer's earlier two concertos. The first movement more or less dwindles away to nothing in a very light, airy ending. The second movement was a fascinating dialogue between the piano asking questions and the strings supplying the piquant answers to the first few queries. Thereafter the answers are provided by the various winds, sounding as though they had been translated by Olivier Messiaen, he of the bird-song language.

The first movement—allegro molto—is a tuneful and melodious bucolic episode, with the horns prominent. The scherzo was a lovely waltz and Mr. Zinman, again conducting from memory as he had the Elgar, made it all look very easy. Although Brahms used the traditional six-movement 'formula' for a serenade, he didn't adhere to it in entirely strict fashion. His third section here—adagio non troppo—is much longer than any of the other sections, but it is also more symphonic in nature. The major string parts here are for the cellos and violas, set off by lovely solos and duos for the winds, taking turns in the spotlight. Clarinet (Franklin Cohen) and bassoon (John Clouser) begin, but are soon joined by flute (John Rautenberg), horns (Richard King and Hans Clebsch) and oboe (Laura Griffiths). They sparkled and glittered-or glowed-as required by the music. In the next two movements, Brahms demonstrated his affection for wind instruments with more lovely writing for bassoon, clarinet and flute in the fourth, and the bucolic horns in the fifth. The final movement Rondo is a rhythmic portrayal of a horse and rider. (Brahms' friend and fellow composer Robert Schumann had used the same rhythm in a piano piece a few years earlier.) At the conclusion, Mr. Zinman acknowledged each of the players who had performed the solos so beautifully. from Cool Cleveland contributor Kelly Ferjutz sage1@core.com

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