A deeply moving tribute

In candid and moving tributes to the late Gian Carlo Menotti on Thursday morning at the memorial program in his honor, Joseph Flummerfelt and Mayor Joe Riley mentioned that Menotti could be frustrating to deal with, and Flummerfelt indicated in particular that it was personally painful when Menotti severed ties with Spoleto Festival USA in 1993. But these acknowledgements were only a backdrop to the sincerity with which both men spoke of the transformational effect Menotti had, both on individual lives and on the city of Charleston. I have never heard a politician speak as eloquently and sincerely about the importance of the arts in American life as Riley, who assured us that Menotti will grow to be a legendary figure and that his spirit will live on through the festival. For all of us who love Spoleto, this was deeply moving.

Soprano Karen Huffstodt (Begbick in "Mahagonny") performed "To This We've Come" from Menotti's Pulitzer Prize-winning "The Consul." An actress of great stature, Huffstodt riveted the audience with her embodiment of grief and madness. Marc Dana Williams, assistant conductor on Dusapin's "Faustus," opened the program with the "Pavane" from Menotti's rarely-heard "Sebastian Suite."

Beautiful and contemplative, with ominous undercurrents, the piece obviously means a lot to Williams, an intensely communicative conductor from whom we really should hear more. Finishing the program was the famous "Adagio for Strings" by Samuel Barber, Menotti's long-time companion. I've never especially liked this piece, but as soon as the orchestra played the opening two chords, I started sobbing like a baby.

Katrina Ballads

With "Katrina Ballads," presented by New Music Collective on the Piccolo Spotlight Concert Series, Ted Hearne has crafted a flashy, 70-minute multi-stylistic song cycle about the 2005 hurricane disaster in New Orleans, using as his texts only primary sources—i.e. things people actually said. Hearne, a sophisticated composer with a songwriter's instincts, draws on blues (naturally, in a piece about New Orleans), gospel, grunge, electronic processing, and chance music, with homages to Varese, Glass, and New York's downtown new music scene. In Hearne's capable hands, somehow it all makes sense—it's really good stuff.

Hearne's amazing quartet of four vocalists—soprano Allison Semmes, mezzo Abby Fischer, tenor Isaiah Robinson, and baritone Anthony Turner — were just as adept at crossing between so-called serious and popular styles as Hearne. Turner and Semmes brilliantly recreated Anderson Cooper's well-publicized interview with Sen. Mary Landrieu, in which Cooper blasted politicians who were busy thanking each other, while Landrieu remained maddeningly unflappable.

Robinson sounded glorious delivering then-House Speaker Dennis Hastert's tone deaf suggestion that maybe we should bulldoze the whole place—it was a rolling, rhythmic rock number, punctuated by angry chords from electric bass and guitar, and gradually submerged in instrumental chaos. To a deliberate but cheerful groove with music-hall style piano tremolos, the deft, versatile Fischer implicitly skewered Barbara Bush for her infamous remarks on how lucky the refugees were to be in the Astrodome.

Hearne, who conducted his own complex work with great skill, saved for himself an extended bravura riff on "Brownie, you're doing a heckuva job," repeating the phrase obsessively and in wild, stuttering transformations while the razor sharp, eleven-piece ensemble lurched rhythmically on around him.

"Don't forget those poor folks down there," Hearne is urging us, in the best way he knows how. The audience responded with an instant standing ovation.

Westminster Choir

Joe Miller, the new director of choral activities at Westminster Choir College put together an adventurous and varied program for the Choir's performance at St. Matthew's Lutheran Church. The list of featured composers included only two names that most people have heard of — Brahms and Stephen Foster. Several of the others are from Central and Eastern Europe, including Estonian composer Veljo Tormis. The Tormis piece, "Raua needmine" ("Curse upon iron"), is a man-versus-machine rant, apparently based on a Finnish national epic, with a rather violent text. ("Wretched iron! You flesh-eater, gnawer of bones/You spiller of innocent blood!")

The piece makes a powerful impact, beginning with a very loud thwack on the kamchatka (a large timpani-like drum). Tormis uses ominous, repetitive melodic figures and call-and-response style vocal-writing as the singers propel themselves through the text. At one point they all stoop suddenly and launch into a cacophonous but rhythmically controlled chanting dialogue, including synchronized head movements. It's a bizarre but captivating, almost apocalyptic piece, and it certainly makes its point. Who knew iron was so evil?

The Festival Orchestra

Conductor Emmanuel Villaume has long, sinuous arms that can do marvelously expressive things. His sweeping motions encourage the musicians to play phrases that breathe and flower. This resulted in some beautiful shaping in Ravel's bewitching "Mother Goose," the first piece on the Spoleto Festival USA Orchestra concert Thursday night. Villaume speaks Ravel's distinctive language fluently, with great appreciation for both its subtle colorings and its playfulness, and he coaxed the orchestra through an expertly sculpted performance.

You can read a lot of blather about how Brahms is the great classicist of the Romantic era, the cerebral opposite to Wagner's musical maelstroms. I never really bought this; Brahms' Fourth Symphony is a fiery, emotionally intense piece. That's how Villaume conducted it, and his young charges responded by playing their hearts out. In the first movement Villaume generated sparks with special attention to the syncopated inner lines, and gave an ending cutoff so sharp and precise that it made the audience gasp. The second movement was arching, sensuous, and—I'm happy to report—not too slow. The third movement had bite, enthusiasm, and a healthy dose of sheer musical fun. The amazing last movement, an eight-bar theme with thirty-two variations, is one of the most tightly structured symphonic movements in the standard repertoire; tonight, it was also one of the most passionate.