The St. Louis Symphony Orchestra’s world premiere of James Lee III’s “Visions of Cahokia” at Powell Hall on Saturday, January 28, began in an extraordinary way: Music Director Stefan Deneve invited the composer onstage to introduce his new work and then interviewed him in front of a crowded concert hall.
[Visions of Cahokia] has the potential to become a repertory piece for orchestras programming around American Indian culture or African American composers.
Lee said that though he has friends in Central and South America and through them knew of ancient southern ruins, he was surprised to learn, through research, that the St. Louis region has a well-preserved network of mounds from a native metropolis that flourished around 1100 AD. He visited Cahokia after a previous performance in St. Louis, which inspired him to discuss composing a piece with SLSO staff. That led to a commission and ultimately this world premiere.
Deneve asked Lee why he wanted this particular orchestra to premiere his Cahokia composition. Lee overlooked the obvious reason – that Cahokia is 12 miles from the concert hall that SLSO calls home – to cite the virtuosity of the orchestra, in particular “certain aspects of the strings” (Deneve did not ask which) and the “power of the brass.”
Deneve informed the audience that SLSO would be recording the world premiere and the orchestra’s performance of Leonard Bernstein’s “Serenade after Plato’s Symposium” that followed it on the program, begging for silence in the seats to preserve the integrity of the recording. Then he led the orchestra through what he described as the “birth of this new piece.”
Lee may have come to SLSO for the strings and the brass, but the tubular chimes and bass drum did the most to communicate the American Indian spirit of the composition. The chimes – recurring through most of the 10-minute piece – evoked the ankle bells of Indian dancers, and the bass drum made Powell Hall sound like the center of an Indian drum circle.
Deneve looked, at turns, elastic and ecstatic as he led a very large orchestra through the tone poem. He brought the musicians into the second movement by hushing the violin section with his right index finger pressed to his lips before cueing them in, a remarkable way to ask for dead silence followed by a quiet fade in, which is exactly what he got.
“Wow,” a man sitting beside my guest and me in the dress circle said, as we stood in ovation – “I mean, wow. That was amazing. I can’t wait until they release this performance.”
I was reminded by something a tall, broad, elderly, distinguished man said to Lee before the performance (Lee was seated near us, and we had a good view of his comings and goings and all of the respectful and giddy attention he generated). “Cahokia is important,” the man said, as he bowed and leaned in to shake the composer’s hand, “and it’s important that you composed music in honor of it.”
Were three people not waiting their turn to greet the composer, I am certain that the man would have added: And it’s important that SLSO commissioned, supported and recorded the composition. It has the potential to become a repertory piece for orchestras programming around American Indian culture or African American composers.
I am in awe of how Deneve programmed the Bernstein serenade to follow this world premiere, given that he could not have heard or even read the completed score of “Visions of Cahokia” when SLSO announced their 2022-2023 season. “Serenade after Plato’s Symposium” has a mixture of philosophic intensity and definitive percussion very similar to “Visions of Cahokia,” while also providing contrasts that reveal nuances to both pieces.
Whereas Lee underplayed a mammoth orchestra, Bernstein dismissed the woodwind and brass sections altogether and put the strings and percussion through just about every change imaginable. Without winds or brass, we could hear their sonorities in the strings, and the brighter percussive instruments – such as, again, those tubular chimes – sang more distinctly without competition from the brass.
Finally, Bernstein wrote a virtuosic solo violin part that guest soloist James Ehnes made utterly his own, whereas Lee wrote for the ensemble. That solo violin part, which winds its way through nearly every bar of the score, moves from plaintive screech (mind you, that’s a good thing) to a lush, swooning romanticism that had the 50-something couple in front of us literally pawing all over each other. They served as a good reminder that the symphony is still the hottest date night in St. Louis.
Bernstein also wrote a solo cello feature as intense and sweet as anything in the lead violin part. Principal cello Daniel Lee took it and filled Powell Hall with his four strings. The cello feature comes in the final section, which is named for two beloved peers, Socrates and Alcibiades. Ehnes and Lee made for a worthy Socrates and Alcibiades in the final moments of the serenade. Fittingly, they were the first two musicians Deneve asked to stand at the end of the performance, and when Deneve was finished showing off principal double bass Erik Harris and the entire six-person percussion section, Ehnes crossed the conductor’s stand to recognize Daniel Lee personally.
Deneve’s genius for programming culminated with his finishing this program with Jean Sibelius’ “Symphony No. 2 in D major.” If Bernstein’s serenade shows how much strings can do when isolated from woodwinds and brass, Sibelius shows how much strings can do, period. Full stop. From the first moments of the symphony, SLSO showed how Sibelius has the hugest violin section sound in the business. At moments, every string player bowed in accord, swaying side to side like the orchestra was a see-saw.
Deneve was entirely in his element. On Bernstein, he conducted like a mesmerist, with his hands shaping every note. Conducting the Sibelius, he combed his curly mane, massaged the orchestra with both hands, and held his left hand aloft for an oddly long time, as if to show that this is a symphony he could conduct with one hand tied behind his back.
Then, again, with the expressive contrasts. After Bernstein had filled our ears with percussion, Sibelius scored for only one timpani, though he really put it to work. There were slow rolls for what seemed like minutes at a time, followed by fast roles leading to a dead stop – and, on this night, this orchestra was as crisp getting in and out of compositions and movements as I have ever heard them.
Pro tip: The finale of Sibelius’ second has the most beautiful melody I have ever heard in classical music that has not been exploited by a pop music songwriter. Paul McCartney, Eric Carmen, Lana Del Ray – what are you guys waiting for? There is a smash hit lurking here.
That finale also made me helplessly think of every dramatic swelling in every soundtrack to every romantic movie ever made as the movie is building to its heart-stopping climax. At 43 minutes and (I believe) in the public domain, Sibelius’ second symphony would make a beautiful score for a romantic silent film yet to be made. I was making that film in my head as I noticed that couple in front of us getting more and more intimate. They kept it clean – they did not embarrass themselves – they were simply playing along with the band in the same key.
