A program of works by a single composer often seems like a compelling idea and what more natural pairing than the Estonian Festival Orchestra and Arvo Pärt? Such a program is not without its pitfalls, however, and founder Paavo Järvi did not skirt them all in an unwieldy all-Pärt evening in their Carnegie Hall debut.
The Estonian Festival Orchestra has been touring this program in honor of the composer’s 90th birthday, the equivalent of a retrospective show. Besides some of the meditative, minimalist works from the 1970s that Pärt is most famous for (Cantus in Memory of Benjamin Britten, Tabula rasa, Fratres), the concert included pieces from his early years as an orthodox mid-century serialist (Perpetuum mobile, Credo) and some lesser-known, primarily religious more recent music (La Sindone, Adam’s Lament, Swansong).
The two most substantial pieces, Adam’s Lament and Tabula rasa, flanked the intermission. Each is nearly a half-hour long. Adam’s Lament featured the Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir (Tönu Kaljuste, director) along with the orchestra’s strings. It’s a setting of text by Saint Silouan the Athonite; much of the vocal writing recalls chant or hymns, with the orchestra as a self-effacing accompanist.
Tabula rasa is also for strings, this time with two solo violins (Midori and Hans Christian Aavik) and prepared piano (Nico Muhly). The first movement, Ludus, proceeds at a moderate pace, with frequent silences; the second, Silentium, is slow, quiet and very long. If one is in the right frame of mind, this piece can evoke eternity and the stopping of time. If not, it can simply seem as though it lasts forever.
Even for the most engaged among us, following that piece with Fratres, another work for strings, was probably a miscalculation: an awful lot of slow, quiet music for strings. But Järvi took it at a (relatively) brisk pace, and as the piece cycled through its process, he teased out an arresting progression from anguish through melancholy to resignation.
The shorter works that began and ended the program fared better simply because of their variety. The strings were capable of playing pianissimos so soft they could be drowned out by a single cough from the audience; the progression from that to the rich sea of forceful low notes in the A minor chord that ends Cantus in Memory of Benjamin Britten was mesmerizing. The early full orchestra work Perpetuum mobile, in which dissonant chords are built from individual notes repeating in overlapping patterns, was engaging and colorful. La Sindone, also for the full group, is a dramatic, appealing work reflecting on the Turin Shroud. A meditative central section based on a simple three-note motive was set off by more pictorial, urgent material before and after.
Swansong, an orchestra reworking of a vocal piece, was a riot of color and – following Fratres – a drink of water after the aridity of over an hour of music for non-vibrato strings.
The evening ended with Credo, a massive work for chorus, orchestra and piano, for which the Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir was joined by Trinity Choir (Melissa Attebury, director). Credo was a turning point in Pärt’s career; it was banned in the Soviet Union and eventually led to his exile. There are sonorous triads from the voices, exuberant cacophony from the orchestra, quotes from Bach’s C major Prelude. It’s a wild ride. The battle of good and evil makes for more dramatic listening than what good has to say left to itself.
