Form is important to classical music. Any piece longer than, say, three or four minutes that is not tied to a dramatic form needs some balance of repetition and variety to hold it together. In this weekend’s New York Philharmonic program, Stravinsky’s Petrushka of course displayed his mastery at creating form out of interlocking bits of melodies and the juxtaposition of contrasting elements. Caroline Mallonee’s Lakeside Game, a Project 19 commission receiving its pandemic-delayed world premiere, had an immediately accessible arch form to contain its playful dissonances. By contrast, the centerpiece of the evening, Wynton Marsalis’ 45-minute Concerto in D for Violin and Orchestra, written in 2015 for Nicola Benedetti and receiving its Philharmonic premiere, was a sprawling, picaresque smorgasbord of a piece, with very little in the way of repetition or development to hang onto.
That the piece succeeds – and it does – was due entirely to Benedetti’s ferocious commitment and personality. Marsalis drew on her Scottish fiddle roots for this, as well as his own in New Orleans jazz and the classical musical they share, verging occasionally into pops and movie score territory. The styles were often jammed awkwardly together, with transitions nonexistent or cursory and logic inscrutable, but Benedetti was mesmerizing throughout. Her low, bluesy playing when called for was as sweet and tart as pomegranate juice. Several long passages hovered in the highest register of the violin, and her tone was pure and sure whether sustaining a wistful melody, making short yips like a small dog whose tail has been stepped on or playing a barely audible groove like a flea with a fiddle.
During the first movement cadenza, Benedetti stopped to retune her instrument. When it became obvious that this wasn’t going to be accomplished quickly, she sheepishly announced to the audience, “This isn’t part of the piece!”, leading David Robertson to comment from the podium, “But isn’t she doing it so musically?” The second movement’s much longer cadenza was even more entertaining, as she spent much of it walking slowly back through the orchestra to stand next to percussionist Pablo Rieppi (also excellent) for an extended duet before coming back to the soloist’s spot at the front.
Lakeside Game is built on memories of Mallonee’s childhood walks along the shore of Lake Michigan, complete with skipping of stones. The opening passages were rhythmically playful, with clusters and dissonances as the harmonic material; the effect was of adorable baby monsters romping. It then proceeded through material ranging from sweetly sentimental to ominous, evoking shifting layers of cloud before culminating in a surprising brass chorale, reversing course and coming home to a big consonant chord. While the program notes cautioned that the music is “not meant to be a literal illustration,” parts of it were very pictorial, and the recurring sense of playfulness was heartwarming.
“Fun” isn’t a word one associates with Stravinsky, but both Robertson and the orchestra seemed to be having a blast playing the original 1911 version of Petrushka. Robertson treated it like a concerto for orchestra, standing with baton stilled and ceding leadership to soloists at key points, most notably Eric Huebner for the iconic parallel-motion piano solo and Robert Langevin on flute. The sound was vividly three-dimensional, the instrumental choirs balanced perfectly. Even the awkwardly syncopated trombone section interjections in the final tableau were perfectly placed and phrased – one magical moment among many. It was a delight from start to finish.
