I entered Orchestra Hall on Friday seeking heat on a windy winter night. Great gusts careened down the corridors between Minneapolis' skyscrapers as I made my way inside and queued up to have my vaccination card checked while my glasses defrosted.
And what an ideal program to shake off the chill: A U.S. premiere from Korean composer Unsuk Chin, an excellent violinist soloing on Mozart's Fourth (and, in my opinion, best) Violin Concerto, and the coup de grace, a rare performance of Igor Stravinsky's complete ballet music for "The Firebird."
Did my sense of anticipation get the better of me? Because I left the hall feeling disappointed that there was not much spark to either the Mozart or the Stravinsky, much less a blazing fire.
Oh, there was excitement to be found in the opening work. Chin's "Frontispiece" is a sweeping collage of fascinating fragments, an eight-minute journey in which ideas clash and collide, most memorably when an uneasy placidity is interrupted by anxious interjections. Guest conductor Dima Slobodeniouk and the orchestra made it a feast of delicious dynamic contrast.
But that peak of energy and urgency would never be summited again. When half the orchestra left the stage to accommodate the lesser numbers on the Mozart concerto, the concert's spirit seemed to waft away with them.
I've enjoyed violinist Baiba Skride's artistry on past visits, and I couldn't find anything to quibble about in her technique or musicality, especially in the sad lullaby of a second movement. But the orchestra buried her lines too often on the opening Allegro, and Slobodeniouk chose to slow the tempo on the closing Rondeau, making it feel more like a transitional minuet than a fiery finale. Despite some intriguing moments in Skride's cadenzas, what could have been scintillating was sleepy.
Surely the "Firebird" would re-ignite the pilot light. It's magnificently dramatic music and a showcase for both the sum of an orchestra and its parts, great solos abounding. Flutist Adam Kuenzel, bassoonist Fei Xie and principal French horn Michael Gast seized their opportunities with expressive and involving turns.
Yet I never got a sense of the work's dramatic arc. One chapter emerged from another, the music seldom exploding with energy, never particularly intense. While there was some welcome dynamic contrast — it got very loud and admirably soft — it never became an involving odyssey, more a series of disconnected sketches than a gripping 45-minute tale.