The St. Louis Symphony Orchestra’s Live at the Sheldon series was the best thing to come out of the renovation of Powell Hall, which left the orchestra unhoused for two years. In this series, two SLSO musicians curate a program of chamber music and handpick the musicians they want to perform it with them.
For the concert on Thursday, December 4, musicians who play two of the quirkiest and most obscure instruments in the orchestra – oboe (Xiomara Mass) and bassoon (Julia Paine) – curated an all-winds program (with the exception of a supporting piano on the second half). That in itself was destined to be a unique and distinctive experience, which it certainly was. It also turned out to be incredibly fun – and at times even rowdy.
Co-curator Xiomara Mass described Startin’ Sumthin’ by the living African-American composer Jeff Scott as “the most exhilarating quintet” she had ever performed.
Opening with an homage to swing jazz arranged for a winds quintet (Startin’ Sumthin’ by the living African-American composer Jeff Scott) was an inspired idea that won over an intense, focused crowd from the first swinging bar. The sheer delight of the composition made it easy to concentrate on the uniqueness of the experience: seeing five symphony musicians play five different instruments, all winds, in a space so intimate we could hear the individual players’ mouth actions on their reeds and fingers manipulating their instrument’s keys. Mass described this as “one of the most exhilarating quintets I have ever performed,” which certainly came across onstage.
The curators then made the brilliant pivot to a duet featuring only their two instruments, Duo by Heitor Villa-Lobos (1887-1959), a Brazilian composer I can’t hear enough of. The richly inventive melodic writing, for two distinctive instruments telling their own stories with an ongoing dialogue, again freed the mind to concentrate on the experience of seeing these two unique human beings perform their unusual instruments almost within arm’s reach.
We call these instruments “winds,” but I had never seen the breath work that goes into playing oboe before I could see Mass’ cheeks puff out as she produced sound. I could also see how the bassoon’s crook, the metal tube connecting the reed to the body of the instrument, shapes physical aspects of how the bassoon is played. Both Mass and Paine performed Villa-Lobos melodic lines that could only be described as breath-defying.
The co-curators provided pleasing visual complements. Mass wore a sleeveless white blouse and patent leather pumps. Paine wore a double-breasted cobalt blue jacket and (possibly rubber) boots that looked snow-proof on this cold December night. Mass performed with open-eyed intensity and eyebrows that moved with her oboe’s every melody. Paine played sphinxlike, eyes lidded, eyebrows flatlined except when they moved up with the entire brow for an occasional emphasis.
The crowd responded with a thunderous standing ovation, along with exuberant yipping. Like every other selection on the program, Duo had never been performed by the SLSO before. This was an impossible act to follow for the show’s one world premiere, Fuse by Henry Rusten, a composition student at Mizzou supported (as is the Live at the Sheldon series) by the Sinquefield Charitable Foundation. Mentally, I had to catch my breath, so I did not absorb much of this student work other than to notice that the bassoon dominated and that seemed to loosen up Paine, whose upper body came more into play.
The first half of the show concluded with Bello Epoque en Sud-America by the living Brazilian composer Julio Medaglia. Paine told us this piece incorporates dances from Argentina and Brazil, but you hear this sort of thing said all the time about classical music you could never imagine someone actually dancing to. This was music you could imagine someone actually dancing to. Paine’s bassoon and Blaine Dodson’s horn played the footwork. Mass’ oboe and Robert Walker’s clarinet played the partner spins. Ann Choomack’s flute played the obligatory South American leg kicks.
I would conjecture that people who play oboe and bassoon, more obscure instruments, might be drawn to curate crowd-pleasing music, and this was the case throughout this entertaining program, though without ever pandering or dumbing down. At one point during the Medaglia, someone sitting behind me responded to a gloriously charming moment with a spontaneous exhalation, what might be described as a chuckle except it was not that self-controlled. Really, it was the spontaneous sound of a smile. At the conclusion, people behind me responded by stomping on the floor. This was, literally, a stomping good time.
Peter Henderson joined the quintet on piano for the second half of the concert, which opened with A Tour d’Anches by Florent Schmitt (1870-1958). Early in the first movement, Henderson unhanded the piano like it was burning hot to the touch. This was white-hot ensemble playing with the most lyrical bassoon line I can remember hearing. The writing for clarinet is so exuberant that Walker had to keep pushing his eyeglasses up the bridge of his nose after each self-administered jolt of music. Henderson is such a responsive accompanist that, the only musician onstage not playing a wind instrument, he appeared to play air oboe or air bassoon, moving his lips as if he had a reed in them and needed to blow wind to make music.
They concluded with Divertimento by Paul Juon (1872-1940), a Russian composer of Swiss origins who learned his craft in Berlin. (True musicians are always without borders.) It was never explained how this absolutely delightful piece of music, played as a long collective swoon, quotes “We Three Kings of Orient Are” (1857), the Christmas carol by John Henry Hopkins Jr. This was just another gift that these musicians brought us on this bitingly cold night. “It’s 17 degrees,” Paine explained one brief technical delay. “Our reeds need extra loving.” Don’t we all, these days?
Talking to a musician friend after the concert, I asked about all the hooting and hollering, the yipping, the stomping, at a concert based around an oboe and a bassoon.
“Winds people,” he said. “Band people. Marching band people.
Visit slso.org.
SLSO oboe and bassoon play the sounds of smiles at the Sheldon
By Chris King
For the St. Louis American
The St. Louis Symphony Orchestra’s Live at the Sheldon series was the best thing to come out of the renovation of Powell Hall, which left the orchestra unhoused for two years. In this series, two SLSO musicians curate a program of chamber music and handpick the musicians they want to perform it with them.
For the concert on Thursday, December 4, musicians who play two of the quirkiest and most obscure instruments in the orchestra – oboe (Xiomara Mass) and bassoon (Julia Paine) – curated an all-winds program (with the exception of a supporting piano on the second half). That in itself was destined to be a unique and distinctive experience, which it certainly was. It also turned out to be incredibly fun – and at times even rowdy.
Opening with an homage to swing jazz arranged for a winds quintet (Startin’ Sumthin’ by the living African-American composer Jeff Scott) was an inspired idea that won over an intense, focused crowd from the first swinging bar. The sheer delight of the composition made it easy to concentrate on the uniqueness of the experience: seeing five symphony musicians play five different instruments, all winds, in a space so intimate we could hear the individual players’ mouth actions on their reeds and fingers manipulating their instrument’s keys. Mass described this as “one of the most exhilarating quintets I have ever performed,” which certainly came across onstage.
The curators then made the brilliant pivot to a duet featuring only their two instruments, Duoby Heitor Villa-Lobos (1887-1959), a Brazilian composer I can’t hear enough of. The richly inventive melodic writing, for two distinctive instruments telling their own stories with an ongoing dialogue, again freed the mind to concentrate on the experience of seeing these two unique human beings perform their unusual instruments almost within arm’s reach.
We call these instruments “winds,” but I had never seen the breath work that goes into playing oboe before I could see Mass’ cheeks puff out as she produced sound. I could also see how the bassoon’s crook, the metal tube connecting the reed to the body of the instrument, shapes physical aspects of how the bassoon is played. Both Mass and Paine performed Villa-Lobos melodic lines that could only be described as breath-defying.
The co-curators provided pleasing visual complements. Mass wore a sleeveless white blouse and patent leather pumps. Paine wore a double-breasted cobalt blue jacket and (possibly rubber) boots that looked snow-proof on this cold December night. Mass performed with open-eyed intensity and eyebrows that moved with her oboe’s every melody. Paine played sphinxlike, eyes lidded, eyebrows flatlined except when they moved up with the entire brow for an occasional emphasis.
The crowd responded with a thunderous standing ovation, along with exuberant yipping. Like every other selection on the program, Duo had never been performed by the SLSO before. This was an impossible act to follow for the show’s one world premiere, Fuse by Henry Rusten, a composition student at Mizzou supported (as is the Live at the Sheldon series) by the Sinquefield Charitable Foundation. Mentally, I had to catch my breath, so I did not absorb much of this student work other than to notice that the bassoon dominated and that seemed to loosen up Paine, whose upper body came more into play.
The first half of the show concluded with Bello Epoque en Sud-America by the living Brazilian composer Julio Medaglia. Paine told us this piece incorporates dances from Argentina and Brazil, but you hear this sort of thing said all the time about classical music you could never imagine someone actually dancing to. This was music you could imagine someone actually dancing to. Paine’s bassoon and Blaine Dodson’s horn played the footwork. Mass’ oboe and Robert Walker’s clarinet played the partner spins. Ann Choomack’s flute played the obligatory South American leg kicks.
I would conjecture that people who play oboe and bassoon, more obscure instruments, might be drawn to curate crowd-pleasing music, and this was the case throughout this entertaining program, though without ever pandering or dumbing down. At one point during the Medaglia, someone sitting behind me responded to a gloriously charming moment with a spontaneous exhalation, what might be described as a chuckle except it was not that self-controlled. Really, it was the spontaneous sound of a smile. At the conclusion, people behind me responded by stomping on the floor. This was, literally, a stomping good time.
Peter Henderson joined the quintet on piano for the second half of the concert, which opened with A Tour d’Anches by Florent Schmitt (1870-1958). Early in the first movement, Henderson unhanded the piano like it was burning hot to the touch. This was white-hot ensemble playing with the most lyrical bassoon line I can remember hearing. The writing for clarinet is so exuberant that Walker had to keep pushing his eyeglasses up the bridge of his nose after each self-administered jolt of music. Henderson is such a responsive accompanist that, the only musician onstage not playing a wind instrument, he appeared to play air oboe or air bassoon, moving his lips as if he had a reed in them and needed to blow wind to make music.
They concluded with Divertimento by Paul Juon (1872-1940), a Russian composer of Swiss origins who learned his craft in Berlin. (True musicians are always without borders.) It was never explained how this absolutely delightful piece of music, played as a long collective swoon, quotes “We Three Kings of Orient Are” (1857), the Christmas carol by John Henry Hopkins Jr. This was just another gift bitingly that these musicians brought us on this cold night. “It’s 17 degrees,” Paine explained one brief technical delay. “Our reeds need extra loving.” Don’t we all, these days?
Talking to a musician friend after the concert, I asked about all the hooting and hollering, the yipping, the stomping, at a concert based around an oboe and a bassoon.
“Winds people,” he said. “Band people. Marching band people.
Visit slso.org.