by Aristea Mellos
In the last year or two, there’s been a flurry of negative
press surrounding the composer Osvaldo Golijov. Repeated talk of missed deadlines and accusations of plagiarism left me wondering about Carnegie Hall’s decision
to appoint him to the Richard and Barbara Debs Composer’s Chair
for the 2012-13 season. In an age of endless news cycles and limitless tweets,
it can be easy to forget about what really matters—in this case the music and its sheer power to communicate, uplift, and transform. Sunday’s performance
of Golijov’s La Pasión según San Marcos did just
that.
La Pasión is the result of a 2000 commission by conductor Helmuth Rilling and the International Bachakademie Stuttgart, in which Golijov was chosen as one of four composers to write a new Passion for the new millennium. Performed without intermission, the 90-minute work kept the Carnegie Hall audience captivated with cinematic string writing, grooving
rhythms, animated vocals, and versatile soloists.
The fleet of percussionists that drive La Pasión opened
the piece with a steady ostinato, transporting the audience into a heady world
of rhythmic cycles and irresistible groves. The addition of canonical trumpets
hinted at the fiesta-like atmosphere that would dominate much of the work,
while a capoeira dancer slowly turned behind a fishing net, imbuing the
opening with a rich sense of symbolism.
The sounds of muted strings, playful
brass, and the exotic array of percussion (including cabasas, shakers, and a
Venezuelan instrument called a quitipla)
formed the backbone of the Orquesta La Pasión. Led by energetic conductor
Robert Spano, the instrumentalists created a taut canvas upon which blocks of
choral color were added and the drama of Christ’s crucifixion was played out.
Throughout the afternoon, samba beats with impassioned
choruses flowed into flamenco-style arias, and large textures seemed to fill
every inch of the hall, saturating the space with the sound of a Brazilian
carnival.
The three adult soloists gave
polished and convincing performances. Unlike the Bach passions, where each
soloist is assigned a role, here the soloists morphed from one character to
another like shapeshifters: dancer and singer Reynaldo González-Fernández conducted a particularly skillful display of this
character flipping by assuming the roles of both Peter and Jesus in the movement “Face to Face;” Magnetic Brazilian jazz-singer Luciana Souza's sultry vocal work complimented the festive character
of the Latin-infused music; in contrast, soprano Jessica Rivera's lyrical
and delicate tone brought moments of sheer luminescence to the performance, allowing
the work to breathe, particularly in the “Colorless Moon” movement.
However, Sunday's true stars were the
children from New York City’s high schools who formed a Greek chorus of animated
fervor. Drawn from Forest Hills High School, the Frank Sinatra School of the
Arts, and the Songs of Solomon Choir, these energetic choristers blended with
the Schola Cantorum de Venezuela, bringing their youthful exuberance to the
music. Dancing, clapping, and singing with intense passion, their
impressive professionalism was a testament to the work of their chorus masters
(Heidi Best, Robert Koch, and Chantel Wright, respectively).
As the final notes of La
Pasión sounded, it was difficult not to be
overwhelmed by the grand scale of this spectacle. Upon its premiere in 2000, music historian Richard Taruskin declared La Pasión an example
of “new spirituality,” and Sunday's performance instilled in me a new
sense of faith in contemporary composition and its ability to transform and
enrich our lives.