Who better than Stéphane Denève to lead a program of French and American music? Born, raised and trained in France, Denève has spent so much time working in the US over the past 25 years that his interpretations have a distinct New World flavor. With jazz strains running through a program of Milhaud, Poulenc and Gershwin, and the versatile Cleveland Orchestra under his baton, Denève served up a beguiling blend of smart sophistication and pure entertainment.
Even in that estimable company, the highlight of the evening was an additional treat: A Kind of Trane, a concerto by Guillaume Connesson that pays homage to the legendary jazz saxophonist John Coltrane. This was due largely to a dazzling performance by saxophonist Steven Banks, a young musician and composer devoted to diversifying classical music. Alternating between soprano and tenor saxophones, Banks showed both the intensity that characterized Coltrane and the finesse of a classically trained soloist.
The three-movement concerto blazes with fiery solo passages, some so close to Coltrane’s singular style that they might have been lifted from one of his albums. Beyond impressive technical ability, Banks played with a deeper sense of Coltrane’s no-boundaries approach and freewheeling spirit, injecting a staid form with fresh energy. The orchestra is called on for everything from a steady backbeat to lush symphonic support, all neatly woven together by Denève. Connesson’s concerto is at its best invoking not just Coltrane, but the innovative jazz scene of the 1950s and ’60s in which he thrived, and Denève pulled off a small miracle by making the orchestra sound like one of the stylish big bands that played in New York nightclubs during that period.
The evening began with an uncharacteristically subdued treatment of Milhaud’s La Création du monde, with the opening primordial simmer sounding more like a turgid soup. The brass shone through a sleepy rise of plants, animals and humans, then a few tasty jazz licks cut through the tedium that finally blossomed into lively dance rhythms. Overall, an incisive but overly polite reading.
Poulenc’s suite from Les Biches picked up the momentum from the concerto and carried it through a rambunctious dance extravaganza originally composed for Ballet Russes. Denève showed a deft hand shaping the shifting rhythms, so vivid and buoyant that one needed no ballet background to imagine dancers leaping, marching and cavorting across the stage. There is a tongue-in-cheek element to the suite that Denève elicited in fine detail – chattering instruments, quirky intrusions in the melodies, humorous touches in the turns of phrase. Even the straight neoclassical sections had a playful undertone. In Denève’s hands, it was one of those rare pieces played at a highly refined level that could be enjoyed as pure and simple fun.
Finally, Gershwin’s An American in Paris showcased an equally rare musical moment, a foreign conductor showing a native feel for a definitively American piece of music. Perfectly paced, vividly drawn and exuberant in its phrasing and dynamics, this was a reading that squeezed the maximum out of every bar. Denève’s talent for bringing intangibles to life came to fore once again with a sense of excitement and discovery in the narrative of a visitor wandering the streets, overwhelmed by all the sights and sounds. And the grand theme that opens the finale never sounded grander. For one swinging night, the Jazz Age was back.
