Beethoven's Eroica--Pretty and Pleasant?

When I first saw the SF Symphony’s description of Beethoven’s “Eroica” Symphony as “pretty/pleasant” a là their new concierge service, I thought, “wth!?!??!”

But after listening to their performance of it last night, I think I now understand. This is exactly how they played it: the Eroica, as played by the SF Symphony last night, was beautiful, impassioned—and pleasant.

I wonder if I let Leonard Bernstein and Alex Ross influence my expectations for the live version too much. . ..

Last night, I went to go hear the SF Symphony with Peanut Butter. I was particularly excited about going to hear Gil Shaham live, but we were also both really looking forward to a live performance of the Eroica.

Eroica is one of these symphonies I never tire listening to; for the past few months, I have been courting this symphony, attempting to better understand it.

It is unbelievable that I had never heard it live before last night.

* * * *

Sometime late last fall, perhaps as part of my quest to better understand Mahler, I decided that I first needed to better understand Beethoven’s symphonies. Why Beethoven, I don’t remember, except that our director made a connection between the two composers. Plus Beethoven’s symphonies were more familiar. It’s been on one of my big “lifetime” to-do lists, along with understanding Mahler before I’m 70.

It was also around this time that one of my olderish-professor type friends told me about a Beethoven course he took in college in which the professor broke down each of Beethoven’s symphonies into parts and analyzed the structure. I was envious. My college offered no such course, so I was left to my own devices to absorb the greatness that is Beethoven.

Thus, for various reasons, I decided to try to better “understand” Beethoven’s symphonies. It seemed natural to start with the Eroica, since it is a landmark symphony that is often referred to as the symphony that marked the beginning of the Romantic Era.

* * * *

The Eroica is a mind-boggling symphony. It’s one of these symphonies that humbles me every time I listen to it. Here is someone who wrote a symphony so masterful and complex that I can but barely understand it with my tiny brain. I can but barely follow a score and keep track of everything. (Ok I can’t.) Any contribution I might ever make in my lifetime just pales—pales­—compared to just one output (of which he had many) from this composer. That anyone could write something like this is already mind-boggling. But then to think that he wrote this when he was deaf!

* * * *

Unfortunately, being awestruck with its greatness doesn’t help me understand this symphony. I can listen to it, appreciate its greatness and tell you how it’s different from Haydn/Mozart’s symphonies, as well as tell you about the intense E-flat major chords—even tell you a little about how the melody progresses—but then my musical limitations take over. I couldn’t tell you, for example, the specifics of what makes this such a landmark symphony.

So I started borrowing different recordings and comparing them to the one I have. I looked for stuff online that might help me parse this symphony and explain the details of its structure.

Then sometime in January, these SF Symphony tickets went on sale as part of a special promo. Gil Shaham and the Beethoven Eroica live for $25???? Omg. I grabbed those tickets.

Another serendipitous occurrence: discovering Alex Ross’s first blog posting, where he talks about the Eroica at length. Shortly after I purchased those tickets, I checked Alex Ross’s blog and came across this posting, in which he links back to his first post, which I had never read before. Of course, it was conveniently meant to be discovered while I was in the middle of “studying” the Eroica.

Alex Ross’s early blog posting was a wonderful find. He infuses so much personal significance into the Eroica. He extols the virtues of the Bernstein lectures and talks about how these lectures inspired him to buy a score of this symphony.

I too, bought and listened to the Bernstein lecture on how this symphony was constructed. I borrowed the score from the library and listened, while trying to follow along. Sometimes, I just listened to see if I now listened with a different ear. I listened to different versions and compared it to my Szell (Cleveland Symphony) version.

Through all of these various ways—discovering Alex Ross’s first post; listening to the Bernstein lecture; reading various things online; and analyzing the score—I learned lots and looked forward to hearing the live version.

I also listened to it a lot. Whenever I put it on, I cranked up the volume so the opening E-flat major chords would sound like hammer blows that made me leap out of my seat. I mentally paused after the transgressive C-sharp that follows, and then perhaps because of Bernstein, I imagined struggles, conflicts, holocausts, and all those things in the next few measures.

Bernstein’s recording is quite fiery; Szell conducts his at an electrifying tempo.

But of course, none of this could possibly be as thrilling as listening to it live. Thus PB and I went to the SF Symphony performance, ready to be knocked out of our seats and be riveted by the live version. I fully expected to be so enthralled that even before the program started, I anticipated giving them a standing ovation.

* * * *

During the first half, Gil Shaham played a Schuman concerto. No, not Robert Schumann, to my surprise, but another Schuman, who according to the program notes, didn’t even discover classical music until 20. The piece was a pleasant surprise (since I was expecting Robert Schumann). I was entranced by Shaham’s lyrical playing and enjoyed most of this jazzy concerto. Shaham has a very sensitive playing style that I like very much. (3/12: Thanks to the person who pointed out my egregious error. Robert Schumann now has 2 n's in his last name. People who can't spell Schumann should also belong to category B. (See next post for the reference.))

So now we get to the moment we were waiting for. I was so fraught with anticipation that I held my breath as I waited for MTT to give the first downbeat so the E-flat major chords can pummel me out of my seat.

The chords came and went—as did the transgressive C-sharp—so quickly, that by the time it registered that I wasn’t blasted out of my seat or stabbed by intrusive chords, the music had progressed to the part where the players were handing off the theme back and forth to each other, politely, rather than with a sense of urgency.

The playing was beautiful, but I was looking for the stab and wrench that Bernstein talks about. Where was the holocaust, famine, and struggle? The turmoil and the tug-o-war between parts that Bernstein talks about? Or the intrusive otherness?

These were all missing. The ensemble-playing was excellent, but excellence wasn’t what I sought in the music last night.

Once I got over my shock over the unshocking-ness of the opening E-flat major chords and the C-sharp, I did enjoy the rest of the program.

I liked the heart-on-the-sleeve nature of the Marcia Funebre, but the real surprise was the third movement, which I normally find least exciting. In the Szell recording, this is just ho-hum. I don’t like the horn and oboe-playing at all, which kills the movement for me. The Bernstein version is a bit better, with more contrasts, but again, still not my favorite movement. By contrast, SF Symphony’s version was electrifying and full of the tension needed to make this movement ring. In particular, I loved the really quiet repeated low notes that the viola passes on to the string bases and the cellos in this movement. The cellos and the bases played this with such bounce and at such a low volume, that you could barely hear them. (In fact, it was so low, I couldn’t tell whether the bases or cellos or both were playing the B-flat.) Ohhhh, it was lovely. It was like witnessing a very private heated conversation between the violas and bases/cellos. If they had just played this section over and over again the entire evening, I would’ve enjoyed it. It provided a wonderful contrast to the loud melody, which really made this movement work. The oboe and flute ensemble was very tight, too.

Is it silly to say that these repeated B-flats were probably my favorite part of this performance?

I am glad I finally got to hear this performance live, but the SF Symphony version wasn’t riveting or transgressive enough for me.

However, clearly I’m wrong, since Joshua Kosman of the SF Chronicle (a reliable music critic and therefore someone who actually knows what he is talking about) said that this performance was “among the most exciting renditions of this music I've heard."

Well, this is why I could never be a reviewer.