A DREAM TURNS TO DARKNESS
AND THEN INTO THE LIGHT
At 11 AM on April 4, the NY Phil matinee cracked open with a live wire performance in a world premiere that left me breathless, if not a little rattled. Alisa Weilerstein is, without exaggeration, the most ferocious, almost feral, cellist I’ve ever seen live. The way she attacks that cello? Pure, awe-inspiring savagery. No wonder Thomas Larcher penned returning into darkness just for her. And darkness it is—a title that tells you exactly what you’re in for.
Guest conductor Nikolaj Szeps-Znaider kicked things off with a rather a very pleasant but rather paint-by-numbers rendition of “Intermezzo,” “Nocturne,” and Wedding March” from Mendelssohn’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, a polite wake-up call which was not a bad way to greet the morning, but the strings often drowned out the delicate reeds. His conducting had both of his arms in near constant motion, and there were flashes of brilliance, particularly from the horns, but it needed a bit more shaping and subtlety.
Then he and Weilerstein joined forces. In darkness, the cellist launched into spidery glissandos—more string sliding than any piece I’ve ever heard—and the one-movement concerto builds like a trap ready to snap. It’s all about the interplay of percussion and cello: a restless dance always on the brink of breakthrough, then abruptly pausing, leaving you straining for that elusive melody.
Weilerstein’s cello vacillates between a mournful whisper and an angry, high-register tremolo that shreds through the silence. Achieving that volume at such piercing pitches? It’s nothing short of unearthly. Larcher (who was in the house) spices the tension with piccolo, chimes, harp, celesta, accordion—and yes, even the basses got in the action by sawing on waterphones for a unique timbral underscore. It’s a modern composer’s orchestration at its gothic best, a soundtrack straight out of a lost reel of The Pit and the Pendulum.
Yet, despite its raw power, returning into darkness is a tough nut to crack. My companion and I loved it, but the audience—so polite, so subdued—remained largely nonplussed. The applause quickly died down, leaving no call for an encore. Coming from L.A., where every note earns a standing ovation, it’s clear that the piece, for all its orchestral brilliance, is ultimately inaccessible.
After intermission, Szeps-Znaider tackled Schumann’s Symphony No. 2 in C major—a four-movement work that’s uplifting in its entirety, although an acute listener will hear strains of darker undertones. The third movement has an aching lyricism, beautifully sung by the powerful strings, but it is the fourth movement that exploded with a life-affirming intensity, the kind that revitalizes. Szeps-Znaider used the same conducting style as he did for the Mendelssohn, but it worked for the Schumann (which he led without a score), which received an immaculate rendering.
I’m devastated to see Gustavo Dudamel leave my beloved LA Phil, but when he takes the reins at NY Phil next year, expect fireworks—I believe he will create some serious competition for his erstwhile orchestra. Dudamel’s magic lies in uncovering nuggets of gold within a familiar score, breathing new life into the old guard. Dudamel inherits not only some fine players, but also a sophisticated audience, (which, I fear, Los Angeles lacks); I heard not one dropped cell phone, and there was no applause between movements in David Geffen Hall at Lincoln Center.
In the end, this matinee was a study in contrasts. After a dream, we returned to darkness and, thrillingly, were then reminded exactly why we crave the light.
photos by Chris Lee
ends on April 5, 2025
for tickets, visit the NY Phil
