That Young Euro Classic has been one of the most important international meeting places for youth orchestras for more than a quarter century was once again proven by the performance of the National Youth Orchestra of the United States of America. The ensemble, composed of the greatest American talents between sixteen and nineteen years old, brought a program on Tuesday, August 4 in Berlin's Konzerthaus that not only highlighted American musical heritage, but also encompassed one of the greatest orchestral masterworks of the twentieth century. Samuel Barber (1910-1981), George Gershwin (1898-1937) and Béla Bartók (1881-1945) together formed a program in which virtuosity, color, humor and collective musicality continuously engaged in dialogue with one another. Under the direction of Karina Canellakis and with Kirill Gerstein as soloist, the concert grew into one of those rare evenings where the qualification 'youth orchestra' barely does justice to what was heard.
Even before the music began, an alto violist from the orchestra won over the audience in a particularly charming way. He started his introduction in German and with that immediately had the hall on his side. A small moment, but characteristic of the atmosphere that followed: young, uninhibited, visibly enjoying itself.
Already remarkably homogeneous
From the first measures of Barber's sparkling overture The School for Scandal, it was striking how the humorous lightness of the music was paired with a stunning homogeneity of sound, especially when you consider how young these musicians are. Not a single orchestra section fell short of another: the strings sounded warm and supple, the woodwinds brought their solo moments with character and elegance, the brass combined power with refinement and the percussion provided the necessary sharpness. At the same time, Canellakis kept the orchestra tightly organized without removing the spontaneity from the music. Her continuous interaction with the musicians gave room for individual expression: Barber sounded as if the music simply flowed through the veins of these young musicians.
After the witty lightness of Barber, the weight shifted to Gershwin's Piano Concerto, in which Kirill Gerstein as soloist brought out a completely different side of the orchestra. Gerstein has been among the most versatile pianists of his generation for years and moved effortlessly here as well between classical tradition and jazz idiom. His playing combined clarity and rhythmic precision with a freedom that sometimes seemed almost improvisational, without ever resorting to mere effect-seeking. Even more striking was his attitude toward the orchestra. Gerstein never presented himself as the soloist standing above the ensemble, but visibly made himself part of it: he enjoyed playing with the young musicians, sought interaction with the concertmaster and continuously responded to Canellakis. The fact that he never placed himself as a star in the foreground during the entire concert, but repeatedly subordinated himself to the collective, is precisely what distinguishes a great musician.
The first movement was simply stunning. The energy and rhythmic vitality of Gerstein and the orchestra worked so infectiously that it was hardly possible to suppress the urge to applaud right after this first section. The middle section then took on a completely different atmosphere. Canellakis shaped the slow introduction with a feeling for sonority and tension, followed by a beautiful trumpet solo and refined woodwind playing that further colored the music. The transition to the faster section progressed smoothly and culminated in a third movement full of fire and energy. In the louder passages, the piano was sometimes somewhat overpowered – the only moment in the evening when the balance was a bit lost – but that was hardly a drawback compared to the flamboyant dedication with which music-making took place here.
Visually, too, the young character of the orchestra remained present: sneakers, red trousers and other youthful accents fitted naturally with the age of the musicians. The fact that Gerstein visibly matched them with his footwear was a small but telling detail.
After so much youthful energy, Gerstein played as an encore the subdued Blame It on My Youth by Oscar Levant (1906-1972) – the ideal conclusion to the first half, a symbolic moment of rest to get both feet back on the ground after Gershwin's exuberance.
An orchestra as one organism
After the intermission, the atmosphere changed completely. With Bartók's Concerto for Orchestra, the ensemble faced the ultimate test. It is one of those scores in which virtually everything a symphonic orchestra must be able to accomplish technically and musically comes together: rhythmic complexity, polyphony, extreme dynamic contrasts, solo passages, chamber music interaction and a virtuosity that must continually remain under control. That a youth orchestra dares to tackle this music testifies to ambition. That this National Youth Orchestra subsequently dealt with it so convincingly was phenomenal.
In large measure, it is the merit of Karina Canellakis that this diversity of characters ultimately grew into such a homogeneous whole. She not only built this extraordinarily difficult music technically with her young orchestra, but also taught her musicians how to listen to each other and how individual parts gain their significance within the larger whole. Moreover, those who watched this orchestra saw the enormous diversity of backgrounds from which these young musicians come – a reflection of the colorfulness that characterizes the United States, brought together here in one sound. This did not sound like an orchestra trying to perform a difficult work as well as possible, but like an ensemble that experiences Bartók's music from within. Every instrumental group had its moment, but every musician remained part of the larger whole. This was truly a concerto for orchestra: not one soloist against the rest, but a composition in which every player becomes indispensable at the right moment.
The dark, deep sound of the strings gave the building tension an almost threatening intensity, after which the woodwinds stepped forward with suppleness and personality. Brass and percussion added power and precision, without the individual lines getting lost in the whole. Even in the most complex and loud passages, the orchestra remained remarkably transparent.
Particularly strong was the fourth movement, Intermezzo interrotto, in which Bartók's humor also came fully to life. The ironic winks were made with visible pleasure and timed so precisely that laughter even erupted from the audience. The music gained something mischievous without ever becoming caricatured. And then the finale. It began with a speed I have rarely heard – lightning-fast, but never reckless – and even at that dizzying pace, every instrument remained audible within the complex whole.
The future is on the stage
After Barber and Gershwin, expectations were high, but Bartók fulfilled them completely. Perhaps that is the greatest strength of this orchestra: the astonishing technical mastery is entirely at the service of the music, while the pleasure in playing together remains constantly palpable. These young instrumentalists do not make music as if they might later reach the level of a professional orchestra; they are already there. And yet they have retained something that is sometimes lost in professional ensembles: the pure joy of making music together. Anyone who thinks this judgment is too mild or too enthusiastic should simply hear this orchestra live once.
That pleasure received an appropriate finale after Bartók with Gershwin's Girl Crazy Overture. After the enormous rhythmic power of Bartók, this was the ideal closer: light, swinging and irresistible. The audience responded with a standing ovation that lasted minutes. Canellakis ultimately had to take the concertmaster off the stage herself to end it. More really needed to be said.