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PETER LIEBERSON/EOS ORCHESTRA PETER LIEBERSON by Steve Koenig
EOS' conductor Jonathan Sheffer, clad in leather pants and the EOS tee shirt all the musicians wore, was a fine host for the evening, interspersing a casual and insightful interview with the composer between each piece. (These types of interviews are worthy of preservation; it is a monumental crime that the interviews Ara Guzelimian conducts at Carnegie Hall with the greats of our time are not recorded for posterity.) "Free and Easy Wanderer" is not, as you might think from the title, in any way related to Franz Schubert. Its rich sonorities reminded me of Schoenberg's Serenade or Septet, multilayered but uncluttered. I canít imagine a better performance: tension, mystery, flow, solos, and again, the gorgeous instrumental colors. "Raising the Gaze," available on a Boston Pro Musica disc (Neuma 450-79), is a reference to taking in everything; earlier Tibetan Buddhist monks would focus by keeping their eyes downward. Much of Lieberson's work derives from his involvement with Tibetan Buddhism. He told us the piece is "derived from the idea of medieval dances," emphasis on "idea of." "When creative people are taught," he continued, "they're never taught to work with your mind," but rather with "systems that are not playful." "Raising the Gaze" is indeed frisky: Asian scales mixed with Art Deco sonorities, a gagaku-inspired section featuring piccolo and bass drum, sadness and swells, overflow. Commissioned by the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center, Ziji was a more mellow piece and the only one in which I felt I heard the composer composing. Lieberson said he wanted a "Brahmsian" sonority, and he admirably accomplished that without needing a Brahmsian structure as well. King Gesar is Lieberson's opera based on a Tibetan legend, and the five-minute Horse Race is taken from it, performed this time without the narration used at its premiere at Alice Tully Hall. That it was "written to surround words" was evident from its programmatic nature. It began with a piano minimalist running a minimalist phrase, then not, then a minimalist cello grind was joined by a Bernstein-like clarinet melodic flute, where it lost all minimalist feel, turning into a melodic and rhythmic, quite clever horse race. The Horn Concerto, composed in 1999 for William Purvis and the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra, is a beautiful piece played by EOS with Eric Ruske. Lieberson claims "emphasis on the lyrical quality of the horn," and that "the horn carries the whole thing." It does, but not as a virtuoso showpiece. Although it has its prominent moments, the horn is an integral part of the texture, which felt three dimensional; it's not one of those concertos for instrument versus orchestra which kept me away from nearly all concerted pieces when I was a teenager. This work felt programmatic not with any specific story, but the music unwound its tale with its own abstract narrative. The strings were beautifully dreamy without invoking Metamorphosen or Verklarkte Nacht, the horn totally integrated into the piece even when soloing. Between the movements, an added attraction was Ruske's rather balletic removal of condensation from his instrument. I felt there should be a 1940s-style Disney color cartoon created to accompany this music. This concert was the second in Miller Theater's 15th Anniversary series of truly significant music performed by the musicians who love it, with tickets usually no more than twenty dollars. Upcoming concerts in this Composer Portraits Series feature the works of Penderecki, (two programs of) Scelsi, Xenakis, Peter Gordon, Takemitsu,
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