Dudamel wows 'em on opening night

Thursday night was a win-win for Los Angeles.

A dressed-to-the-nines audience, dappled with civic movers and shakers, eschewed the Dodgers' thrilling conclusion and instead experienced Gustavo Dudamel’s thrilling beginning at Walt Disney Concert Hall as music director of the Los Angeles Philharmonic.

Both, as it turned out, were celebratory moments to savor.

At 7:18  p.m. the 28-year old Venezuelan launched into “City Noir,” John Adams’ filmic, jazz-inflected 35-minute paean to Los Angeles commissioned by the Philharmonic.

The bright, sensual presentation of the piece drew a sustained standing ovation, not always the treatment audiences afford contemporary classical music. It also earned Dudamel an embrace and several hugs from composer Adams, who seemed very pleased with his work’s world premiere performance.

After the intermission, Dudamel dipped into Gustav Mahler’s Symphony No. 1. The orchestra rendered a stately, burnished reading that again brought listeners to their feet after the final crescendo sounded at 9:18 p.m. Dudamel came out for five bows, which he took not from the podium but among his orchestra. Under a cascading shower of magenta and silver foil confetti, he then made the universal signal for “Let’s go get a drink,” and the evening morphed into a party outside on a closed-down Grand Avenue.

The concert was broadcast live on KUSC-FM and simulcast on video screens to hundreds who had spread picnic blankets throughout the Music Center plaza and took seats inside the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. The concert will be shown Oct. 21 on PBS' "Great Performances."

-- Christopher Smith

Photo: Dudamel conducting at Walt Disney Concert Hall. Credit: Lawrence K. Ho.

Photos: Gustavo Dudamel and the L.A. Philharmonic

Panorama: On the red carpet at Walt Disney Concert Hall

Panorama: Taking in the Dudamel concert from out of doors

A nod across town to Dudamel

Even across town from the Hollywood Bowl, Gustavo Dudamel was the focus of attention. On the stage of the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, baritone Thomas Hampson led into the final encore of his 24-Lieder and American song recital thanking the audience for coming “even if you came because you couldn’t get into Dudamel.”

That got a laugh while Hampson said, slightly shaking his head and with an admiring grin, "Placido, James Conlon and Dudamel … Los Angeles has it going.”

-- Christopher Smith

An opportunity to hear the first American song

It’s nothing new for contemporary singers to dig into the depths of the American Songbook for material. But what Thomas Hampson is up to might be considered a full-blown archeological excavation by comparison.

The seminal baritone, who is in recital Saturday at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, isn’t just paying homage to the usual luminaries like Irving Berlin and Cole Porter. Instead, since 2005, Hampson has been touring with a vocal program that draws on his ongoing “Song of America” project, an endeavor that led the Library of Congress to appoint him as a special advisor and to team up with him in presenting the earliest American music that plumbs the nation’s classical roots, even before it was a nation.

In this program, Hampson will take his audience back as far as we can go: Included is “My Days Have Been So Wondrous Free,” a song that most musical scholars agree is the earliest secular composition by an American. Written in 1759 by Francis Hopkinson, who would subsequently be one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, the piece was published in 1788 in a collection dedicated to George Washington, a friend of the author.

“My Days Have Been So Wondrous Free” was written when Hopkinson was 21. The lyrics are derived from a poem called “Love and Innocence” by the 17th century Irish poet Thomas Parnell. The ballad is less than 1 ½ minutes long and rooted in pastoral imagery, with the singer reflecting on his “blest” state in terms of birds, streams and “breathing gales.”

And now, for something fairly different

A showcase of more than 20 sketches written by the classic English comedy troupe Monty Python opens Wednesday for a two-week run at the Ricardo Montalban Theatre."An Evening Without Monty Python" has Python founder Eric Idle orchestraing and five actors, including "Frasier" actress Jane Leeves, performing material that hasn't been seen live at an L.A. venue in almost 30 years, ever since the comedy sextet played four raucous nights at the Hollywood Bowl in 1982.

It's all part of a round of events on both coasts and on television tied to Monty Python's 40th anniversary. To read more, click here for my Calendar story. And to whet your appetite, here's a video of one of the classic elements that will be staged, the famous dead-parrot sketch.

-- Christopher Smith

Showgirls! Glitz! It's (still) 'Jubilee!'

The sustaining lure of “Jubilee!,“ the 28-year-old production playing at Bally’s casino in Las Vegas, is a chance to see the gawk-worthy, classic Las Vegas look, a flashy swirl of sexy showgirls strutting about in their flashy costumes. Designed by Bob Mackie in 1980, the costumes cost about $3.5 million.

More than 1,000 different outfits are on display during the seven-act show, and while many are ultra-skimpy, the average cost of one of the ensembles in the glitzy finale sequence is $7,000. If there are unsung heroes keeping Mackie’s look alive after nearly three decades, it is the 18-member wardrobe staffers backstage who labor in an expansive costume shop constantly cleaning, repairing and sewing to keep the original designs fresh.

The rhinestones alone are worthy of attention. They are silver-plated Austrian Swarovski crystals made from topaz, sapphire, emerald, ruby and amethyst.  A famous vignette from the lore of the period when the costumes were being assembled -- whether fact or fancy is a bit unclear nearly three decades later -- is that there was briefly a worldwide rhinestone shortage when the “Jubilee!“ people swept up all the Swarovskis on the market and had them shipped to Las Vegas.

To read about “Jubilee!“ -- the longest running show on a single stage in the U.S. -- read my story in the Sunday Arts & Books section. And to see an audio slidehow  -- a show within itself -- click here.

-- Christopher Smith

Photo: A showgirl in the finale of "Jubilee!" Credit: Brian Vander Brug / Los Angeles Times

'Samantha Brown,' a musical in the making

Along with the Ahmanson and Pantages, the Orange County Performing Arts Center has been one of Southern California’s reliable purveyors of front-line musicals over the past two decades. While the Ahmanson has been a developer of the form, OCPAC has functioned like the Pantages, working as a presenter of shows coming from elsewhere.
 
This has translated into touring productions working their way from the East. Audiences have seen a steady stream of Dream Girls, Jersey Boys, men who hailed from La Mancha and Mammas who Mia'd, plus many, many more.
 
Some good, more OK, many average and, occasionally, an  outright dud -- in other words, a dead-on reflection of contemporary, mainstream musical theater.
 
And through it all, there have been lots and lots -- and I do mean lots -- of Cats.
 
But Tuesday night, there was something different on display at OCPAC. In the center’s 375-seat Samueli Hall, an engaged audience skewing to the twentysomething side piled in for the start of a production-in-progress of  “The Unauthorized Autobiography of Samantha Brown.”
 
This isn’t a big show two or three years into its lifespan. Instead, it’s a five-character, minimally staged chamber musical still early in its process of becoming. Songs move in and out and dialogue changes from performance to performance. 
 
As such, it's too early in the process to review based on Tuesday’s snapshot. Instead, some quick advice: If a musical about the confusions and aspirations of young lives is your cup of tea, you might find the Samueli, at $30 a seat, a destination to quench your thirst now through May 3.
 
The source of this display is the writing-composing team of Kait Kerrigan and Brian Lowdermilk. This is the third collaboration between the two, with Lowdermilk having a few other works under his belt so far this century.
 

Anatomy of a mighty noise

Those in the audience at Disney Hall on Sunday afternoon at Esa-Pekka Salonen's conducting farewell with the Los Angeles Philharmonic weren't the only ones a bit startled at the raucous fanfare played by the brass and timpani that came after the performance was over.
 
The normally unflappable Salonen, returning from the wings for a solo bow, seemed caught off-guard; he jumped about a foot in the air as the blast hit him. When it ended he had regained his composure and placed his hands over his heart and bowed to the musicians responsible for the cacophony.
 
What he, and everyone else in the hall, had just experienced was a rarely played "tusch."
 
"Tusch" -- pronounced "toosh" -- is the German word for a brass fanfare, or any flourish. It is bestowed by musicians on fellow musicians or a conductor, the highest musical honor they can give each other.
 
The tusch goes back as early as the 17th century and is believed to stem from European trumpeters. Basically, it's short and loud.
 
No two tuschs, it turns out, are alike -- it's something of a jubilant exercise in spontaneity.
 
For instance, there was no formal vote within the orchestra on whether or not to do one, and there was no rehearsal.
 
"It was just something we knew we were going to do -- we wanted to honor Salonen," said trumpeter Boyde Hood, who has been in the orchestra since 1982. "About the only discussion in advance was what key -- C major, which is such an open key -- and then you make a mighty noise."
 
Sunday's tusch started, as they usually do, with the timpani. Principal Joseph Pereira built a quick, brief roll, then the brass layered on top of it for maybe 10 seconds and it was gone.
 
"There's no set length, it's that loose,"  Hood said. "It goes for a while until we hit a big chord and that was it."
 
Hood, 69, recalls playing tuschs for Zubin Mehta, Pierre Boulez and others over the years, but he said that Sunday's fanfare, followed by the scene on-stage when the musicians formed a line and one after another hugged Salonen, was something special and unique in his experience.
 
"It was all a spontaneous show of affection and respect. [The tusch] was so loud because we were just all really laying on it. It's how we feel about Esa-Pekka."

-- Christopher Smith

Photo: Esa-Pekka Salonen. Credit: Craig T. Mathew, Associated Press  / L.A. Philharmonic 
 

Esa-Pekka Salonen leaves on a warm, embracing note

 

Esa-Pekka Salonen's final act of 17 years as music director of the Los Angeles Philharmonic was to be the somewhat reluctant recipient Sunday afternoon of what was undoubtedly the biggest hug-a-thon in orchestra history.

A capacity audience stood and cheered Salonen for 12 minutes as members of his orchestra formed an impromptu line on the stage of Walt Disney Concert Hall and enveloped their boss in embrace after embrace.

Salonen responded to the attention with a combination of pleasure, shyness and an eye for the stage door, but neither the musicians nor the audience would let him go. And though he didn't address the audience, he did bow and repeatedly touch his hand over his heart.

Sunday saw the end of Salonen's tenure as the L.A. Phil's 10th music director; he is the longest-serving conductor in the orchestra's 90-year history.

Beam me up, Wotan

I caught Sunday's matinee of "Die Walküre" at the Chandler. First, an update: The fabled "Lone Boo-er" of opening night was nowhere to be heard, presumably taking the performance off for Easter.
 
As a veteran of four complete "Ring" cycles and a couple of extra stray performances of "Die Walküre," I went not just to bask in the pleasures of the always-estimable James Conlon in the pit and impresario Plácido Domingo's still-robust rendering of Siegmund.
 
I was equally eager to see director Achim Freyer's staging and designs, which have led critics, bloggers and impassioned local Wagnerians to whip themselves up to near-hysteria.
 
An incomplete list of comparison points for the design of the opera mentioned online include "Star Wars," a carnival, "Wheel of Fortune," the circus (both the regular and Cirque varieties), puppet shows and "The Twilight Zone."
 
But the opera was less than 10 minutes old when I realized it was I who had discovered the true, secret coda powering Freyer's vision. A post-performance trip to the Internet confirmed this revelation, which is clear, indisputable and undeniable, and which you can see above. 
 
"Star Trek"! Yes, that's where the sly 75-year-old designer — keep in mind, he was an impressionable 32 years old when the original TV show debuted in 1966 — has been channeling his source material.
 
Although notes in the opera program would have us believe that the duality in the face paint worn by Siegmund and Sieglinde track back to "the ancient Greek notion of the hermaphroditic division," I think it is pretty darn clear that Mr. Freyer's source is, in fact, "Star Trek" episode No. 70, "Let That Be Your Last Battlefield," which first aired in January 1969.
 
In that show, two aliens — each with a multi-hued facial color divided vertically with a stripe, but in different yin and yang patterns, exactly like what Freyer has given Siegmund and Sieglinde — bring their ongoing battle of wills on to the Starship Enterprise. The episode ends with a trip to their planet and the revelation that the dispute between the rival factions has caused the population to extinguish itself. (Götterdämmerung, anybody?)
 
Unlike all the other 20/20 hindsight naysayers online, I will boldly go where no one else has and predict that Freyer's true intentions will be ultimately revealed in the upcoming third and fourth operas of this "Ring" cycle:
 
— This summer, L.A. Opera will announce that the third opera in Freyer's cycle is being retitled "Siegfried: The Wrath of Khan." In this version, the youthful hero not only wrestles a bear, forges a sword and slays a dragon, but also fights a duel with the late actor Ricardo Montalbán, who, in Freyer's boldest staging move yet, is transported on stage as a holographic image.
 
— Next, while this "Götterdämmerung" keeps its traditional title, it will be revealed early on that Valhalla and the Rhein countryside below have really been located on Planet Vulcan the whole time. All doubts fall away when the Gibichungs' chorus appears wearing pointy ears and Leonard Nimoy masks.

— Christopher Smith

Left: Plácido Domingo as Siegmund in "Die Walküre." Credit: Lawrence K. Ho / Los Angeles Times. Right: Frank Gorshin as Bele in "Star Trek" episode No. 70, "Let That Be Your Last Battlefield." Credit: Paramount Pictures

Dudamel's left hand is the right stuff

Lucky enough to be going to Disney Hall the next couple of weeks to see wunderkind conductor Gustavo Dudamel back on the podium? If so, keep an eye on the young conductor’s left hand.

No, this isn't some weird fetish thing. It's a chance to focus on a key element of his technique, which is what makes him the real deal.

A quick tutorial: At the most rudimentary level, conductors use their hands to accomplish specific tasks. The right hand –- maybe using a baton, maybe not –- keeps the orchestra in time. It's the conductor basically functioning as a traffic cop. The left hand is supplementary and is used to cue sections of the orchestra and shape the dynamics of the sound, louder, softer, etc.

Most conductors of top orchestras who come our way are in their 40s or older, with thousands of performances behind them. The work of building the performances is accomplished out of our sight during rehearsals; the left-hand motions we see on the podium tend to be broad and perfunctory, acting as reminders to the orchestra: an outstretched palm, say, to tamp down the brass, or the whole hand clutched to sustain a note from the strings.

But there's no sleight of hand with the 27-year-old Dudamel.