Review: Conductor Esa-Pekka Salonen burrows into Bartók with the CSO

It's been too long since we've seen Esa-Pekka Salonen on the podium.
The conductor-composer, a youthful 66, had to bail on his annual Chicago Symphony booking last season to receive the Polar Music Prize, one of Scandinavia's highest cultural honors. Based on the pointed cheers during his Jan. 30 and Feb. 6 concerts — Salonen routinely stays for a minimum of two concert cycles — he was much missed. One especially craves Salonen's out-of-the-box programming in these long CSO seasons between music directors, which, thus far, have felt creatively rudderless.
To wit, Salonen brought two nights of assiduously played cornerstones by Béla Bartók: the Concerto for Orchestra and an immersive concert version of the one-act opera 'Bluebeard's Castle.' He also programmed a piece of his own, 2022's 'Sinfonia concertante for organ and orchestra'; Latvian organist Iveta Apkalna, one of the dedicatees, soloed. In a reversal of the usual fortunes at 220 S. Michigan, the two slam-dunk repertory pieces invited along for the ride — Richard Strauss's 'Don Juan' and Beethoven's Symphony No. 2 — came off workmanlike in comparison.
Salonen's Sinfonia concertante, programmed for the Jan. 30 concert cycle, turns the organ's austere timbres futuristic, like an alien anthem. In written comments, Salonen says he intended for the piece to live up to its 'sinfonia concertante' title — in other words, the organ is on equal footing with the orchestra, not above and apart from it.
That much is clear. The Sinfonia's best moments nail the handoff between organ and orchestra — Apkalna inheriting a line from the piccolo at the beginning, or locking in with the low brass on the pedalboard, the organ's foot-operated keyboard. At the very end, the organ hangs over the orchestra's final B-flat chord with a quiet D-flat-minorish chord, a sonority plucked from another world.
Salonen's orchestra writing, however, isn't his best — it's often blocky and meandering. On Thursday, it wasn't played with much phrasing or zhuzh from the strings, either.
The best part of his 'Sinfonia concertante for organ and orchestra' is, in fact, the organ. Salonen had apparently never composed for the instrument prior to the commission, and his exuberant writing brings us right into the sandbox with him.
With any luck, we'll hear more from Apkalna, too. She ended with a pealing, cascading toccata on the chorale 'Allein Gott in der Höh sei Ehr,' composed by fellow countryman Aivars Kalējs. The curtain-closer let Apkalna settle into her lyrical side rather than the stacked dissonance of the Sinfonia's cadenzas, her wrists elegantly rolling and flowing between manuals.
Hearing Salonen conduct his own work is always a pleasure, but Bartók was unequivocally the man of the hour for both concerts. On Jan. 30, a resplendent Concerto for Orchestra carried all the DNA of the CSO's long relationship with the piece — the 1955 Reiner recording helped usher it into the repertoire — and embraced a dramatic pacing that eluded the Strauss.
One can't heap praise on this performance without shouting out specific members of the orchestra — it's right there in the 'concerto' title. Stefán Ragnar Höskuldsson's flute solos were always passionately phrased, as was oboist William Welter's aubade-like solo in the first movement. Even sections that have seen some fitful performance in recent months sounded sterling, trombones led commandingly by Michael Mulcahy and horn solis sounding well-blended and clarion.
Salonen's 'Bluebeard' on Feb. 6 managed to raise the bar still higher. Tasteful lighting design by Keith Parham plopped us right into the heart of Bartók's disturbing tale: Judith marries the reclusive duke Bluebeard, only to find out his castle — and he, by extension — is cursed. Against Bluebeard's pleas, she finds successive horrors and splendors behind seven doors. At the opera's climax, the last door opens to reveal all of Bluebeard's previous wives. 'Jane Eyre's' Mr. Rochester looks like a Teletubby in comparison.
What doesn't work nearly so well in a concert version: having Bartók's thick orchestration surge directly behind the singers, rather than being curbed by a pit. Balances tended to be on the very edge of legibility. It didn't help that 'Bluebird's' singers had very different projection to begin with.
Christian Van Horn was more easily heard over the din. He was a natural Bluebeard, his powerful, sepulchral bass-baritone softened by a seductive warmth. One easily understood why Judith fell in love with such a morbid figure to begin with. As his opposite, mezzo-soprano Ekaterina Gubanova had a narrower, milder vocal palette but convincingly evoked Judith's mounting horror, gasping through jagged consonant clusters. Breezy Leigh — also the narrator in Salonen's recent 'Bluebeard' at the San Francisco Symphony — intoned the poetic, introductory text with the right amount of gravitas, the hall darkened save for a single spotlight illuminating her at stage right.
'Bluebeard's' libretto is crammed with references to specific color: blood-red, blue-green, ghostly white. Parham illuminated the terrace level behind the stage with colored light throughout, sometimes lifting hues directly from the text. Other times, he set out to create his own based on the scene's feel. (That said, with the audience facing rows of closed doors on the terrace and stage level, it felt like a lost opportunity to incorporate at least some of those into the staging, however on-the-nose it might have been.)
In the libretto, the opening of the fifth door casts 'bright light' into Bluebeard's darkened castle, accompanied by organ and auxiliary brass in the gallery. At that glorious, triple-forte moment, as Salonen turned to conduct the brass up above, Orchestra Hall itself flooded with light, brightening the faces of an astonished, awe-struck audience.
Moments like these are what music is made of — treating the audience as part of, not mere witness to, the spectacle. Salonen understands that. Too few do.
Also worth noting:
Attend CSO concerts this week or last, and you'll notice two substitute first trumpets: Cincinnati Symphony principal Anthony Limoncelli and Pittsburgh Symphony assistant principal Conrad Jones, in that order. CSO principal trumpet Esteban Batallán remains on leave to play in the Philadelphia Orchestra, with a looming end-of-month deadline to decide whether he will return to his seat or remain in Philly.
On Friday, the CSO also announced that concertmaster Robert Chen will withdraw from concerts Feb. 20–22 as he continues to recover from rotator cuff tendinitis. Solo violinist Stella Chen — a California-born Queen Elizabeth Competition winner — takes over.
While we're talking principal players, a note of appreciation to oboist William Welter, a CSO member since 2018. His solo in Jan. 30's 'Don Juan' was one for the ages: almost imperceptibly quiet at first, and never losing its delicacy and humanity as it crested. It was pure musical magic, no visuals necessary.
Hannah Edgar is a freelance critic.
The Rubin Institute for Music Criticism helps fund our classical music coverage. The Chicago Tribune maintains editorial control over assignments and content.
Originally Published: February 7, 2025 at 2:23 PM CST

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Learn with AIFact CheckingText to SpeechAI Summary

Related Articles

Chicago Tribune

2 days ago

• Chicago Tribune

Review: Muti returns to the CSO, principal trumpeter and Verdi's Requiem in tow

For a time, Chicago Symphony music director emeritus Riccardo Muti planned to end the 2024/25 downtown season with Hector Berlioz's 'The Damnation of Faust,' not heard at Orchestra Hall since 2008. But last summer, the CSO announced the Berlioz would be swapped out with a more recent throwback: Verdi's Requiem, which Muti last led in Chicago in 2018. A signature of Muti's tenure here, the Requiem was performed and recorded to wide acclaim, first through a Grammy-winning 2010 album and again via livestream in 2013, back when that technology was relatively novel. Despite missing out on a rare-going-on-rarer 'Faust,' the Muti/Requiem pairing is as sure a thing as they come. Thursday's concert was no exception, clinching a standout performance of the year with a quartet of superbly cast — and superbly matched — vocal soloists, three of whom were making their CSO debuts. Mezzo-soprano Marianne Crebassa and tenor John Osborn were both cast for the originally planned 'Faust,' but you'd think they were hand-picked specifically for this repertoire. Crebassa didn't just sing the mezzo part — she seemed to live it, from the throaty intensity of 'Liber scriptus' to a grief-stricken 'Lacrymosa,' her vibrato bubbling like tears. Her jewel-toned voice sat well in Verdi's lower vocal writing, but it also easily winged skyward when called for, like a glittering upward climb in 'Quid sum miser.' Crebassa has not sung at the CSO since 2015, at Esa-Pekka Salonen's invitation; her next visit ought to come far sooner. Osborn was every bit as sensitive, living proof that one doesn't need to muscle through this writing to captivate a hall. Between his dynamic and emotional range, and an uncommon transparency of tone — the top of 'Quid sum miser' would have given most sopranos a run for their money in its diamond-bright purity — his every feature cut straight to the heart. Elena Guseva's soprano staggers in its power and control, retaining its hue even at lofty peaks. But much like her colleagues, the soprano was even more astonishing in moments of balance and introversion, like her spick-and-span octaves with Crebassa in 'Agnus Dei' and the tender sendoffs to 'Domine Jesu Christe' and 'Libera me.' The young bass-baritone Maharram Huseynov stepped in last week for Ildebrando D'Arcangelo, also originally a 'Faust' hire. Where many before him have brought big-boned heft to this role — which might have helped Huseynov when he got swallowed by the orchestra's fire in the 'Confutatis' — I'm not convinced that's the point. Huseynov's lighter touch felt closer to the spirit of the text, his voice toned, vulnerable and sympathetically, grippingly human-sized. These performances mark Donald Palumbo's official debut as the new director of the Chicago Symphony Chorus. It was an auspicious first outing, the choir sounding sculpted and notably unified in color and timbre. Basses rumbled in the 'Rex tremendae' like a voice from a fissure in the earth; sopranos entered on the final 'Libera me' canon with the precision of a single singer. Any ensemble issues mostly came from disagreement between the orchestra and the chorus. The chorus floated around the beat in the first 'Dies irae.' The 'Sanctus' was the opposite: they followed Muti's more leisurely tempo like a shadow, despite the orchestra itching to default to the sprightly pace of years' past. But these moments were few and brief in an inspired, brilliantly paced Requiem, its orchestral contributions sounding fresher than ever. Violins supported the 'Kyrie' crisply; later, Vadim Karpinos' timpani licked like flame in the 'Dies irae.' Onstage and offstage trumpet quartets drove a terrifying transition into the 'Tuba mirum.' And when Guseva and the chorus sang that 'the earth shall be shaken' in the 'Libera me,' a mighty rumble in the double basses made sure you really believed it. Elsewhere, Muti halted the action with moments of total silence, all to great, hair-raising effect. Deliverance, indeed. A week earlier, also under Muti's baton, principal trumpet Esteban Batallán — returning to the ensemble this fall after a season with the Philadelphia Orchestra and a summer parental leave — made his CSO solo debut on two 18th century concertos for piccolo trumpet, by Georg Philipp Telemann and Joseph Haydn's overlooked brother, Michael. The repertoire frequently played to Batallán's strong points. Both — especially the Michael Haydn concerto and its virtuosic cadenzas, devised by Batallán himself — gave the trumpeter a chance to show off his dazzling upper register. And for all his sheer power behind the horn, Batallán can certainly scale back when called for, balancing chamber-style against the ensemble throughout. Mostly missing, at least on June 12, was a certain sense of phrase and direction in legato sections. From the slow movements of the Telemann to floating refrains in the Haydn, notes felt over-articulated rather than part of a longer line. The CSO sound under Muti is nothing if not refined — everything shapely and in its place, never crass nor unruly. That made for an elegant yet reliable accompaniment in these concertos. But once the orchestra became the main focus for Joseph Haydn's Symphony No. 48, 'Maria Theresa,' and Schubert's Symphony No. 4, 'Tragic,' that refinement sounded more like reticence. The stormy fake-out in the Haydn's first movement sounded defanged, and the finale rather polite. The Schubert was even more reined in, the orchestra clean but sounding like it was playing at half-verve. The overall impression was one of an ensemble walking on eggshells: little spark, little levity, little variety, too much weighty reverence. That's not to discount some fine ensemble work. Woodwind contributions in the Schubert from clarinetist Stephen Williamson, oboist William Welter, and outgoing flutist Stefán Ragnar Höskuldsson were both impassioned and lucid. Mark Almond, sitting in the hot seat for the Haydn symphony's diabolically high horn part, wasn't always pristine, but he deserves serious kudos for deftly balancing the stratospheric register of his accompaniment so it dusted the harmonies instead of dominating them — all too easy to do. 'Muti Conducts Verdi Requiem' repeats 7:30 p.m. June 20-24 at Symphony Center, 220 S. Michigan Ave., tickets starting at $79,

Los Angeles Times

5 days ago

• Los Angeles Times

Esa-Pekka Salonen leaves the troubled San Francisco Symphony with Mahler's call for ‘Resurrection'

SAN FRANCISCO — Saturday night, Esa-Pekka Salonen conducted his San Francisco Symphony in a staggering performance of Mahler's Symphony No. 2, known as the 'Resurrection.' It was a ferocious performance and an exalted one of gripping intensity. This is a symphony emblematic for Mahler of life and death, an urgent questioning of why we are here. After 80 minutes of the highest highs and lowest lows, of falling in and out of love with life, of smelling the most sensual roses on the planet in a search for renewal, resurrection arrives in a blaze of amazement. Mahler has no answers for the purpose of life. His triumph, and Salonen's in his overpowering performance, is in the divine glory of keeping going, keeping asking. The audience responded with a stunned and tumultuous standing ovation. The musicians pounded their feet on the Davies Symphony Hall stage, resisting Salonen's urgings to stand and take a bow. It was no longer his San Francisco Symphony. After five years as music director, Salonen had declined to renew his contract, saying he didn't share the board of trustees' vision of the future. 'I have only two things to say,' Salonen told the crowd before exiting the stage. 'First: Thank you. 'Second: You've heard what you have in this city. This amazing orchestra, this amazing chorus. So take good care of them.' Salonen, who happens to be a bit of a tech nerd and is a science-fiction fan, had come to San Francisco because he saw the Bay Area as a place where the future is foretold and the city as a place that thinks differently and turns dreams into reality. Here he would continue the kind of transformation of the orchestra into a vehicle for social and technological good that he had begun in his 17 years as music director of the Los Angeles Philharmonic. It was to be a glorious experiment in arts and society in a city presumably ready to reclaim its own past glory. He had the advantage of following in the symphonic footsteps of Michael Tilson Thomas, who for 25 years had made the orchestra a leader in reflecting the culture of its time and place. Salonen brought in a team of young, venturesome 'creative partners' from music and tech. He enlisted architect Frank Gehry to rethink concert venues for the city. He put together imaginative and ambitious projects with director Peter Sellars. He made fabulous recordings. There were obstacles. The COVID-19 pandemic meant the cancellation of what would have been Tilson Thomas' own intrepid farewell celebration five years ago — a production of Wagner's 'The Flying Dutchman' with a set by Gehry and staged by James Darrah (the daring artistic director of Long Beach Opera). Salonen's first season had to be streamed during lockdown, but became the most technologically imaginative of any isolated orchestra. Like arts organizations everywhere and particularly in San Francisco, which has had a harder time than most bouncing back from the pandemic, the San Francisco Symphony had its share of budgetary problems. But it also had, in Salonen, a music director who knew a thing or two about how to get out of them. He had become music director of the L.A. Phil in 1992, when the city was devastated by earthquake, riots and recession. The building of Walt Disney Concert Hall was about to be abandoned. The orchestra built up in the next few years a deficit of around $17 million. The audience, some of the musicians and the press needed awakening. Salonen was on the verge of resignation, but the administration stood behind him, believing in what he and the orchestra could become. With the opening of Disney Hall in 2003, the L.A. Phil transformed Los Angeles. And for that opening, Salonen chose Mahler's 'Resurrection' for the first of the orchestra's subscription series of concerts. Rebirth in this thrillingly massive symphony for a massive orchestra and chorus, along with soprano and mezzo-soprano soloists, was writ exceedingly large, transparent and loud. On Oct. 30, 2003, with L.A. weathering record heat and fires, Salonen's Mahler exulted a better future. The San Francisco Symphony has not followed the L.A. Phil example. It did not put its faith and budget in Salonen's vision, despite five years of excitement. It did not show the city how to rise again. Next season is the first in 30 years that appears to be without a mission. In Disney 22 years ago, Salonen drew attention to the sheer transformative power of sound. At the same time Tilson Thomas had turned the San Francisco Symphony into the country's most expansive Mahler orchestra, and it was only a few months later that he performed the Second Symphony and recorded it in Davies Symphony Hall in a luminously expressive account. That recording stands as a reminder of the hopes back then of a new century. Salonen's more acute approach, not exactly angry but exceptionally determined, was another kind of monument to the power of sound. In quietest, barely audible passages, the air in the hall had an electric sense of calm before the storm. The massive climaxes pinned you to the wall. The chorus, which appears in the final movement to exhort us to cease trembling and prepare to live, proved its own inspiration. The administration all but cost-cut the singers out of the budget until saved by an anonymous donor. The two soloists, Heidi Stober and Sasha Cooke, soared as needed. Salonen moves on. Next week he takes the New York Philharmonic on an Asia tour. At Salzburg this summer, he and Sellars stage Schoenberg's 'Erwartung,' a project he began with the San Francisco Symphony. At the Lucerne Festival, he premieres his Horn Concerto with the Orchestre de Paris instead of the San Francisco Symphony, as originally intended. Saturday's concert had begun with a ludicrous but illuminating announcement to 'sit back and relax as Esa-Pekka Salonen conducts your San Francisco Symphony.' Salonen, instead, offered a wondrous city a wake-up call.

San Francisco Chronicle​

7 days ago

• San Francisco Chronicle​

Esa-Pekka Salonen's farewell to S.F. Symphony ends in tears, cheers, lingering questions

It's over. But the five-year relationship between Esa-Pekka Salonen and the Bay Area didn't end with silence. Over a powerful, emotionally charged three-day stretch, thunderous ovation filled Davies Symphony Hall as the Finnish conductor led his final concerts as music director with the San Francisco Symphony — a role he exits with both reverence and unresolved tension. For his grand finale on Saturday, June 14, anticipation was in the air before a single note was played. While ticketholders streamed into the grand lobby, fans lined up early hoping for last-minute access. Salonen drew fans from across the globe, all eager to witness this defining moment. Among them were national media and Matías Tarnopolsky, president and CEO of the New York Philharmonic, which Salonen will lead on a tour of South Korea and China from June 26 to July 2. Joshua Robison, husband of the Symphony's revered former music director Michael Tilson Thomas, fêted in April for his 80th birthday, was spotted in the audience on Thursday, June 12. At the last performance, retired Symphony principal horn Robert Ward and Daniel Hawkins, formerly with the Symphony and now principal horn of the Dallas Symphony attended. Onstage, Bruce Roberts, retired Symphony assistant principal horn, played all three nights as a guest artist. Their presence reminded longtime patrons of the institution's evolving legacy — and the complex, sometimes painful handoffs between eras. While the mood inside Davies was celebratory, there were somber undertones. Salonen announced in March 2024 that he would not renew his contract, citing creative differences with Symphony leadership, but little has been said about exactly why the organization and the conductor could not reconcile their differences. 'It's a real shame,' said 24-year-old Sarah Quiñones of San Francisco, who noted she and her father have shared Symphony nights for years. 'If he's leaving over lack of funds, I struggle to see how we couldn't have found something to keep (him) here.' Greg Morris and Greg Clinton have been Symphony patrons for four decades. While Clinton, 67, acknowledged 'it's heartbreaking to see it end like this,' the couple said they've appreciated the time — however brief — they've had to witness Salonen's work. 'It's felt really great to have a semi-legendary conductor and composer leading the orchestra,' Morris, 62, said. As Salonen took the podium, he offered no grand gestures of sentimentality. Instead, the music spoke for him. Gustav Mahler's gigantic Symphony No. 2 in C Minor, also known as 'Resurrection' — a richly emotional 80-minute work of immense power — surged with emotional intensity. Takuto Jibiti, 35, who had flown in that morning from Yokohama, Japan told the Chronicle after the concert that he was moved to tears. That response was hardly unique. 'He's a huge loss to the Symphony and to San Francisco,' said San Francisco resident Diana Cramer, 78. 'We certainly love him and we showed that tonight. I'm not sure how many standing ovations there were. … I lost count.' Indeed, the ovations rolled in waves, calling Salonen, Symphony Chorus Director Jenny Wong, and soloists Heidi Stober and Sasha Cooke back to the stage at least a half dozen times. As Salonen turned to leave after the first bow, principal librarian Margo Kieser wound her way to him to offer a gift: a cold beer, a nod to the Finnish conductor's post-concert ritual. Moments later, principal percussionist Jacob Nissly appeared with a bouquet. From the Loge, someone waved a Finnish flag in quiet tribute. Salonen, who turns 67 at the end of the month, tried to deflect some of the attention from himself to the other performers, but twice during the ovation, the chorus and orchestra declined to rise, joining in the applause. After 15 minutes of deafening cheers, Salonen was finally able to quiet the crowd, and, without a microphone, spoke directly to Saturday's audience echoing a sentiment he shared during open rehearsal just days before.