This Friday’s concert (September 27, 2013) at the Schwartz Center at Emory University revealed both Philip Glass’s continuing growth as a composer and an inspiring new collaboration with the extraordinarily talented violinist Tim Fain.
The centerpiece of the concert was unquestionably Glass’s Chaconne which, as he explained, combined two movements in his 2011 Partita for Solo violin. Here Glass obviously has in mind the expansive Chaconne from the J.S. Bach’s Partita No. 2. Considering that this is the single most sublime work ever composed for solo violin, Glass risks an unforgiving comparison. But Glass’s Chaconne is also sublime. Many of its chord progressions and arpeggiations are recognizably in the Glass style, yet I feel that he has achieved an entirely new level mastery in tonal composition with this work. It weaves an intense spell for twenty minutes as it explores the full range of the violin, and Fain’s execution of it left me and my colleague literally gaping with amazement. Fain drew a heartbreakingly rich tone from his 1717 Gobetti violin; if anything it sounded even better than the excerpt in the above video clip performed in April 2012. I cannot wait to hear Fain perform the entire work live someday.
For his solo pieces, Glass performed Mad Rush, Metamorphosis No. 4 and Etude No. 2. His keyboard music is no doubt more difficult to perform than it might seem at first glance, because its transparent structures immediately expose any imperfections in the playing. Glass is a very capable (though perhaps not great) pianist, and it was a treat watching him perform is own works. Mad Rush in particular is lovely, though over time these solo keyboard works tend to display a certain sameness in texture. I think his piano accompaniment for the Allen Ginsberg poem Wichita Vortex Sutra (which he performed as part of the program) is actually more effective as a piano composition. It is in fact one of his more moving pieces, the clear highlight of the chamber opera Hydrogen Jukebox (1993). In this context, hearing a recording of the late poet’s voice over live piano accompaniment created a distancing effect that slightly hampered the work’s emotional impact, though the piece itself is undeniably fine.
Fain’s duets with Glass (selections from The Screens and an arrangement of Pendulum) were beguiling; again Fain’s affinity for Glass’s music and his expressive freedom showed off these compositions to full advantage. At the end of the concert Glass beamed with pride as he watched Fain play an encore, the virtuosic Knee Play No. 2 from Einstein on the Beach, and it is not difficult to see why. Any composer would be delighted to have such a gifted exponent of one’s work.
