New York Philharmonic’s New Year’s concert. Photo by Chris Lee
When the Vienna Philharmonic plays a New Year’s concert, the program is Viennesey—Strauss polkas and all that. When the New York Philharmonic plays a New Year’s concert, the program is New Yorky. At least it was this year. Their program on New Year’s Eve consisted of Gershwin and Bernstein. The former composer, of course, was a son of Brooklyn. The latter composer was an adoptive Manhattanite—but he symbolized the city for many.
The Philharmonic played Bernstein’s two best works for orchestra (arguably): the overture to Candide and the Symphonic Dances from West Side Story. Under music director Alan Gilbert, the overture was not a speedfest, which was good. But it was also rather heavy, even clunky. The music missed its zip and mirth. On the plus side, the chorale-like sections were quite warm (a surprise from this orchestra). As for the Symphonic Dances, they were mainly a profile in okayness. But they occasionally delivered the thrills and delights they contain.
In common with other French pianists, Jean-Yves Thibaudet has an affinity for Gershwin. (Remember Philippe Entremont?) He played both Rhapsody in Blue and the Concerto in F. Thibaudet, as we know, is a stupendous pianist: refined, adept, unfailingly musical. But there were some problems in the Gershwin pieces. He did some rushing, and he was less accurate than usual. Also, he often failed to produce enough sound. Thibaudet is sometimes curiously muted.
Gilbert’s immediate predecessor as music director, Lorin Maazel, is probably the finest Gershwin interpreter in the world, along with André Previn. Gilbert conducted ably in the Gershwin works. In the concerto, however, he did not really swing. There was more swinging from him in the Rhapsody. Several first-desk players in the orchestra had lousy nights. An exception was Ricardo Morales, the clarinetist, who executed the music Gershwin gives him in the Rhapsody marvelously.
Avery Fisher Hall is maybe the city’s homeliest concert venue, but it can really dress up, and it looked smashing on New Year’s Eve. There was a mile of roses along the stage. Female members of the orchestra were in festive dresses. At the end, everyone sang “Auld Lang Syne.” Several years ago, I stood at the back as the crowd sang this song. Standing next to me was Paul Plishka, the Metropolitan Opera basso. I didn’t sing a word, and neither did he.
Afterward, I said to him, “I didn’t dare sing with you standing there.” He pinched my cheek, I swear, and said, “Aww.”
