The Boston Symphony Orchestra gave a party last night, but the guest of honor, Seiji Ozawa, couldn't make it.
Felled by a particularly nasty virus he contracted in Russia last week, Ozawa was home in bed in Newton with a 103 temperature as BSO patrons gathered to celebrate his 25th season as music director. Like friends anywhere, everyone did their best to make the occasion as festive as possible under the circumstances.
The Boston Symphony Orchestra's season opener, Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, conducted by Robert Shaw, at Symphony Hall, last night.
Robert Shaw, the 82-year-old conducting veteran, flew in from Atlanta earlier in the afternoon, to take over the performance of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony. Althought there wasn't time for him to rehearse, the Beethoven Ninth is hardly unfamiliar territory to him. He and the orchestra had performed it together to conclude the Tanglewood season in 1997. The orchestra had also performed it less than a month ago under Mstislav Rostropovich.
The Tanglewood Festival Chorus, in splendid form thanks to the preparation of John Oliver, was in full cry, singing thrillingly and from memory in the finale. And there was a solo quartet -- Christine Goerke, Florence Quivar, Frank Lopardo and José van Dam -- that sang with considerable distinction.
Preceding the performance, there was a charming film celebrating the life of Ozawa produced by Susan Dangel, assistant producer of "Evening at Pops." Narrated by John Williams, the film featured some delightful footage of Ozawa conducting Tanglewood musicians as a student as well as the BSO in his first season. There were clips of his first press conference after his appointment to the BSO, photo stills of his childhood, and interviews with friends and colleagues -- with Mstislav Rostropovich offering delightful insights in his inimitable English.
Of the Beethoven performance, the first three movements were executed in a respectable and professional manner -- no small thing given the trying circumstances. The orchestral sonorities were rather dark and heavy, the pacing somewhat deliberate. There was some gorgeous solo playing by flutist Jacques Zoon, exciting timpani work from Everett Firth, and sour oboe solos by Keisuke Wakao.
However, everything changed in the finale. Immediately, it was clear that Shaw knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it. The rhythms were crisply articulated, the tempi energized. Chorus and veteran choral master were in full sympathy and this became the great outpouring of human spirit that it is meant to be.
José van Dam, the baritone soloist, sang with wonderfully noble tone (although some of the lines really lie too low for him) and emotion. Tenor Frank Lopardo and mezzo Florence Quivar brought more sound and more life to the mostly invisible inner parts than one ever hears. Christine Goerke sang the soprano solos with thin tone and labored high notes.
