The eyes have it in `Water Passion' spectacle at Bach Festival

   EUGENE - Much of what the Oregon Bach Festival promised for the main
   attraction of its 33rd season came true Friday night in Silva Hall.
   The US premiere of Tan Dun's "Water Passion After St. Matthew" was
   just as exotic, spectacular and fascinating as advertised.  The
   audience responded with a six-minute standing ovation.

   You have never seen the Festival Chorus like this, all but invisible
   in black, in turn murmuring, shouting, clicking stones - sometimes
   in unison, sometimes in syncopation - as they sustained much of the
   90-minute work.

   Tan himself stood on the podium to conduct (or, rather, coordinate)
   this multi-media performance-art work.  Between him and the
   near-invisible chorus, a straight row of eight large, water-filled
   Plexiglass bowls.  Another set of eight bowls (travelling with the
   production from Stuttgart) were set up horizontally, so the bowls
   formed an appropriate Cross.  Lighted from below, the water in the
   bowls was reflected on the stage ceiling; when the percussionists
   "played" (hit, swished, sloshed, caressed, elbowed, palmed) the water,
   the surface movements created vibrations in the reflections.

   Instead of an orchestra, "Water Passion" uses soloists, all but
   festival percussionist Charles Dowd travelling with the Stuttgart
   production.  Elizabeth Keusch (Devil, Judas, Evangelist) sang
   spectacularly in the coloratura stratosphere, most of her music
   (and shouting) set between high C and E, produced without a hint of
   shrillness.

   Bass Stephen Bryant (Jesus) mixed "normal" music with Tuvan or
   Mongolian throat-singing sounds; the chorus also had parts requiring
   overtone singing and they responded admirably.

   Two amazing instrumentalists made attendance worthwhile all by
   themselves: violinist/fiddler Todd Reynolds, playing with brilliance
   and abandon, and a Paganini-clone cellist, Maya Beiser, who made her
   instrument sound like a very large pipe organ on steroids.

   The theme of water is heard not only in the physical sounds from
   inside those bowls, but also in the text: "Baptism" is the first
   section, "Water and Resurrection" is the last.  There are burbling
   brooks ("Bach" in German), a quiet lake at Gethsemane, dripping water
   and blood, violently turbulent torrents in the "Death and Earthquake"
   section.

   And what of the music? Here, representing what's likely to be a
   minority report, I say that Emperor Tan has no musical clothes.
   Appreciating the festival money and effort that have gone into this
   enterprise, recognizing the applause for the work here and elsewhere,
   one still must ask when confronted by thin slices of razzle-dazzle,
   "Where's the beef?"

   The true ecumenical spirit of the festival, embracing even
   (or especially) those whose only religion is music, is built on
   Helmuth Rilling's integrity and sincerity in all matters, from the
   interpretation of great music to matters of faith.  Newly fashionable
   as Tan may be, this work of effects (sound-, special-, manipulating-)
   stands apart from Rilling's advocacy of substance and value in its
   obvious search for the opportunity to titillate and impress.

   It may be a stretch to compare Tan to Andrew Lloyd Webber, but there
   is a clear parallel between two talented composers taking easy, quick
   shortcuts to fame and fortune.  Tan writes some beautiful passages,
   especially for the cello, but the vast majority of the work is unison
   ostinato, disjointed phrases, the story doesn't move forward, nor
   does the music touch the head or the heart.  "Water Passion" is just
   as entertaining on first viewing as "Cats"; having heard both more
   times than I cared to, it's clear the rate of return similarly
   declines.

   As to the advertised new, innovative nature of "Water Passion,"
   using actual sounds instead of musical representation goes back a few
   centuries.  In the matter of using "exotic" instruments, Lou Harrison's
   gongs, Olivier Messiaen's ondes martenot, John Cage's 4'33" silence
   at the piano, all have several decades - and much more originality
   - over Tan.  The shrieks and bird calls Tan wrote for the soprano
   have all been done by Meredith Monk, 20 years ago, more effectively.
   (And how about those contemporary hip-hop masters of turntable
   scratching - will we hear the best of them in Silva next year? Their
   novelty may exceed what Tan is offering.)

   Ironically, it is exactly the automatic standing ovation that belies
   the claim to something "revolutionary." Truly new, bold works are
   received in the fashion of the fist fights in the concert hall, riots
   on the streets that greeted Stravinsky's "scandalous" 1913 premiere
   of "The Rite of Spring" in the Theatre des Champs-Elysees.

   Have audiences grown so much that they can instantly understand and
   appreciate bold modern music in 2002? Do the good people of Eugene
   have the right stuff over the Paris bourgeoisie? Let me suggest
   something more plausible.

   The fascination and popularity of "Water Passion" is more aligned
   with the nature and reasons for the success of teenage soprano
   Charlotte Church, blind tenor Andrea Boccelli, singing warmed-over
   Puccini in cat costumes, musicals with chandeliers and helicopters.
   It's entertainment, but not lasting, worthwhile MUSIC that demands
   to be heard again, that grows within the listener every time it is
   repeated.  As to playing amplified water in the concert hall, one
   may hazard a guess that the festival is not giving birth to a new,
   viable genre.

   {Janos Gereben is arts editor of the Post Newspaper Group and music
   news columnist for San Francisco Classical Voice (www.sfcv.org).
   His address is [log in to unmask])

Janos Gereben