Brubeck's Devotions' and Brahms' Lovesongs

To say that the Pacific Mozart Ensemble concerts are eclectic is a serious understatement. Having researched a few of their previous programs, I can’t think of a single San Francisco group — and very few elsewhere — that display this much variety, creativity, and invention in programming. Certainly, their December 18 concert in the Green Room at the Veterans War Memorial Building, and titled “Brubeck and Brahms: Canticles and Love Songs” fit this mold.

PME has presented Dave Brubeck’s music in at least one previous concert, last April, and they write about him in friendly, personal terms. But mixing the concert music of one of the great jazz pianists with the Liebeslieder Waltzes, of Brahms is a bold marriage, and another example of imaginative programming. The evening turned out to be a Christmas concert, and included the Quartet San Francisco to support Brubeck’s Canticles. The concert began with a brief presentation of Green Groweth the Holly, attributed to Henry VIII and performed by Jim Hale, guitar, and Larry Moore and John Strenzel, recorders. As the same group began another piece, this one from the 15th century, the chorus of 44 entered smartly, with Music Director Lynne Morrow, who was clearly in charge.

The 18 Liebeslieder Waltzes, are are certainly not frivolous pieces, just short and pleasant, each showing a different side of love, covering the extremes of rapture and sadness. Brahms was still a young man in his early thirties when he wrote them for the Vienna Singakademie,.

Chorus In Fine Form

The PME is an excellent and well-trained choral group, and their strengths were best demonstrated in the Brahms, when they made sudden swift crescendos, creating moments of great beauty. However, the diction was not clear, and I’m willing to blame that on the Green Room itself. It is a high-ceilinged rectangle, short from front to back and wide from side to side. There is something about the shape of that room that has a negative influence on acoustics. But even so, the chorus, and the two women soloists, appeared to me to have lost their concentration on precise diction. The four-hands piano accompaniment was well played by Kymry Esainko and Andrea Liguori. The Brahms was followed by a a 13th-century vocal duet effectively sung by chorus members Victor Floyd and Tom Mugglestone, and the first half ended with two Brubeck works based on texts by the great African-American poet, Langston Hughes. I have known Brubeck’s magnificent jazz performances since my early teens and still remain a fan of his in my 70s. As such, I looked forward to hearing and enjoying his composition, Canticles, (lyrics by Iola Brubeck and from common prayer). The work’s three sections ran approximately 10 minutes each. All the text was related to Mary and Jesus, beginning with the Annunciation, and concluding with a request to forgive the human race. I regret to say that I was unmoved by the work. It lacked the essence of Brubeck’s genius, namely his impetuosity, emotion, imagination, and skill at spinning out delicious phrases, made dazzling by metrical complexities. The things that I loved in his jazz playing were missing in Canticles. Only once in the work did the sun shine. In the setting of, “Blessed art thou among women and blest be the fruit of they womb, Jesus,” the women chorus members sang four short phrases. And every time they came to the end of the phrase, the music went where I didn’t expect it to go, instead of taking the well-trodden road. It was a magnificent moment and the work took on a glow, lit up by the performance. But it was the only time that I heard the impulsive, ingenious, and daring Brubeck that I’ve known for many years. The concert concluded with a short Brubeck work, Sleep, Holy Infant, Sleep, and the concert’s hit of the night, Strand 2 by Meridith Monk. For this last work, which has no tonality, the chorus surrounded the audience and performed a little miracle of a composition. It was described as a circular, responsive chant, but I thought it sounded like teeth on glass, or the kind of startling new ideas heard in György Ligeti’s orchestral work, Atmospheres. The room was brought alive by the brilliance of the piece. The evening ended with everyone, including the audience singing Angels We Have Heard On High.