REVIEW: Yuja Wang’s Date With the Devil

Nov 29

Nov 29 REVIEW: Yuja Wang’s Date With the Devil

Above: Yuja Wang with the LA Phil at Lincoln Center. Photo by Richard Termine.

November 26, 2019

By Brian Taylor

Gustavo Dudamel and the Los Angeles Philharmonic’s appearance at David Geffen Hall, as part of Lincoln Center’s Great Performers series, will go down in history books as one of the highlights of New York’s classical music season. Adding to the star power, Yuja Wang dazzled as soloist in the New York premiere of John Adams’s new piano concerto Must the Devil Have All the Good Tunes? The impressive new piece was a perfect fit in a winning program, three works with spiky, jolting accents and earthy sensuality.

Dudamel, entering his second decade at the helm of the LA Phil, opened the evening with a stylish, committed account of Argentinian composer Alberto Ginastera’s Variaciones Concertantes. The 1953 concerto for orchestra begins with an expressive theme for solo cello and harp. It was a treat to experience the sound of the LA Phil gradually: silvery strings, then energetic winds, enter the fray, gently coaxed and guided by the celebrated maestro.

Ginastera’s masterful instrumental combinations and delicious harmonies provide a delightful showpiece for the orchestra. Each variation shifts the spotlight to a different soloist. Especially striking were principal clarinetist Boris Allakhverdyan’s bright, rhythmic dash in the Variazione in modo di Scherzo, and principal violist’s haunting monoloque in Variazione drammatica. Surprisingly, Ginastera reprises the theme, but with double bass, instead of cello, featured on the melody: Christopher Hanulik’s expressive bass solo was a revelation of what this instrument is capable of. The concluding malambo, a rousing rodeo-like dance, gave the orchestra an opportunity to let their hair down.

Yuja Wang, no stranger to NYC in recent years, has proven that her fingers can do anything. She devours the densest of scores, such as Ligeti’s etudes, reducing them to mere vehicles for her indefatigable technique.

Adams has found in Wang the perfect vehicle for his most diabolical ideas. A macabre totentanz (dance of the dead) in the guise of a concerto, Must the Devil Have All the Good Tunes? gives Wang plenty to dig her teeth into, and the orchestra rides along on a wild, colorful adventure ride, a cool-headed Dudamel at the wheel.

The work unfolds in three sections, the piano soloist busy throughout, but frequently woven into the broader interplay of textures. Adams may be associated with minimalism, but if you’re expecting something patterned after Glass or Reich, you will not find it here. Adams describes his new concerto as seeking a “funk-invested American style.”

The first movement, “Gritty, funky, but in Strict Tempo; Twitchy, Bot-like,” begins with the piano, in low, vaguely jazzy chords, mired in a grim, weighty conundrum. Soon, the orchestra grapples for domination, with Wang’s intensifying runs of notes, rather than drawing attention to her virtuosity, in subtle service to the music’s dramatic arc.

Without realizing it, we find ourselves in the lyrical “Much Slower; Gently, Relaxed,” a respite and moment of reflection. Wang relished the seductive, quasi-improvisatory pointillism. Adams’s harmonic palette is as fresh as ever. This builds into the third movement, “Piú Mosso; Obsession / Swing (played without pause),” returning to a Shostakovich-like action sequence, a struggle between darkness and light. The harrowing final battle blow is a shock.

Wang’s devotion to her fans nearly stole the show. Egged on by an insatiable audience, her decision to play five encores was unfortunate (too much of a good thing). A flawless “Danse Russe” from Petrouchka was stunning, and a perfect segue to the Stravinsky ballet music next on the docket. But, her overdone shtick of Art Tatum’s jazzy “Tea for Two” and Schubert’s “Gretchen am Spinnrade” (via Liszt) were gratuitous.

The LA Phil’s aesthetic is like tinseltown itself: they tell a story, instantly conjuring a glossy, celluloid image of an orchestra. The strings evoke moody glints of chiaroscuro emerging from shadows. The woodwinds are Pixar-animated. The brass section is muscular with Marvel superpowers. It’s an orchestra that has evolved to compete with synthesizers. A superior version of the ideal replica.

This was all on full display in a rip-roaring, spacious account of Stravinsky’s evergreen The Rite of Spring. Dudamel knows every nook and cranny of this masterpiece, and found new angles to highlight, while carefully plotting maximum payoff from Stravinsky’s sacrificial dance. This was a riveting, generous performance, with infectious folk tunes colliding in savory dissonances on a rollercoaster ride of musical suspense.

The orchestra sounds spectacular. And Dudamel never makes the concert about himself; he disappears into the music, providing pure communion between Stravinsky and the audience. An encore of John Philip Sousa’s The Liberty Bell March cleared the air, and ushered the audience on their way with a bounce in their step. This was a memorable occasion that will undoubtedly be remembered on many “Best of the Year” lists.

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