Alexander Nemtin, who has spent three decades on (re)constructing
Scriabin's mammoth 1912 "Mysterium," was to be the guest of honor at
tonight's American premiere of a small fraction of the work, called
"Humanity."

Instead, the 63-year-old Russian composer died a few days ago, just before
his scheduled departure for San Francisco.  The news came so recently that
the Symphony used an inserted notice in the program that was already
printed.

If Nemtin sat in Box A of Davies Hall tonight, he would have had a good
view of the audience, and would have seen a strange scene: people
squirming, shaking their heads, leaving, and -- the majority -- laughing.

It's difficult to react differently to what sounds like the soundtrack
to an overproduced Grade B movie about a mass mating of dinosaurs among
constantly erupting volcanos.  A huge orchestra, four-part mixed chorus, a
pianist (Alexei Lubimov), amplified soprano (Susan Narucki), and Vladimir
Ashkenazy towering on the podium -- a great effort by massed forces, but
whatever for?

Do we really need the combined finale of "Bolero," "Polovetsian Dances" and
"The Pines of Rome" as the *beginning* of a work, to go on the yet greater
peaks thereafter?

More than any of that stuff, more than the volume and rumble of a rock
concert, the Scriabin-Nemtin "Humanity" reminds one of the 1900 "Gurre
Lieder" -- with one crucial difference: Schoenberg's exercise in gigantism
is a wonderful work *in spite* of its excesses, but this work has nothing
but the excess.

I simply cannot imagine the entire work: "Humanity" is one third of the
three-hour "Acte prealable" (premiered by Ashkenazy in Berlin in 1996)
which, in turn, is merely the "preliminary act" to "Mysterium"!  And
Scriabin's own "input"? Fifty-seven pages.  We heard a *lot* of Nemtin
tonight.

As is often the case with Scriabin, the description of the work (by Hugh
Macdonald) is full of phrases such as "grand cosmic vision," "apocalyptic
mysticism," "Messianic role," and, poignantly, "essentially unachievable."
Yep.

And still, the giggles didn't start massively until the "ah-ah-ah,"
"oh-oh-oh," "uh-uh-uh" -- fortissimo by the huge chorus, going on and on.
What else can you do but laugh?

Very differently, even the first half of the evening was noteworthy, with
a great -- but schizophrenic -- performance of the Beethoven Third Piano
Concerto by Radu Lupu.  It was fascinating to see the definitive pianist
for this work on the podium, instead of the keyboard, but Ashkenazy worked
heroically to make the most of an obviously under-rehearsed piece (I don't
think "Humanity" left any time for Beethoven at all).

As Ashkenazy launched into the orchestral introduction, I had an instant
flashback to an annoying reporter on KGO radio who speaks in capital
letters, stressing each syllable of each word -- except that this extreme
parsing sort of worked for Beethoven, in a very articulated, deliberate
performance.

Lupu picked up on the lead and gave a fluent, flawless, somewhat mechanical
reading in the first movement, beginning to take over with the cadenza,
first with sheer brilliance, then with a totally different, Chopinesque
lyricism.  From that flowed a wonderfully delicate Largo, Lupu now leading
and inspiring the orchestra.  All the missing silences from the previous
movement were added here.

The opening Allegro might have been fine "generic" Beethoven, but the slow
movement was an experience, even if not "properly" of the composer.  And
then it all came together in the Rondo, but it was that perfect slow
movement that lingered on, even after "Mysterium."

Janos Gereben/SF
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