CHICAGO SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA
Even before he was appointed to the Chicago Symphony Orchestra’s highest artistic post, the Argentinean-born conductor was getting a bad rap in the local press. One commentator attributed his strong candidacy to cronyism (the cronies being Georg Solti and CSO’s top administrator, Henry Fogel); another questioned his track record. Taking over the baton from Solti would not be an easy task for any mortal, but the youthful Barenboim seems particularly vulnerable to criticism. Despite Solti’s faults–a conservative streak plus quite a few more quirks, in my opinion–he did transform the orchestra into a fabulous and prestigious sound-and-money machine. In the process, thanks to an effective PR campaign, he was turned into the Teflon maestro, an Olympian (London-based) figure impervious to bad reviews. Naturally his exalted, untouchable status spells trouble for any successor: the city’s critical establishment, long deprived of a target, is now more than ready to pounce on a lesser god. Solti’s lengthy tenure also casts a giant shadow–Barenboim must win the affection of persnickety, nostalgia-prone CSO loyalists.
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On this last count, history is definitely not on Barenboim’s side. Twice before the heir to a longtime CSO music director has been subjected to unfavorable comparisons by critics–especially the Tribune’s acerbic Claudia Cassidy–and concertgoers alike. In the end, as hard as they tried, neither Desire Defauw (who took over after the death of Frederick Stock) nor Jean Martinon (after Fritz Reiner) could overcome the city’s predisposition to dislike them; both were transitional figures, their tenures lasting less than five years. Already the rumblings of dissatisfaction with Barenboim are beginning to echo those leveled against his two unfortunate predecessors.
Opening the second half was Adolphus Hailstork’s Celebration!, a peppy Broadway curtain raiser spiced by clacking castanets. The evening’s only heavyweight was the “Ode to Joy” from Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. For purists, of course, listening to only the last movement is like reading War and Peace from page 500: you hear the work’s thematic ideas in full force without ever having heard them stated. The chorus (prepared by Margaret Hillis) and the four soloists (Tina Kiberg, Waltraud Meier, Jon Fredric West, and Robert Holl) under Barenboim’s animated exhortations sang with jubilant fervor. The orchestra–especially its wind section–shared ringingly in the effusive pleading for universal brotherhood. It wasn’t the most spiritual “Ode to Joy” I’ve ever heard, but it was rousing enough for me to stand up clapping at the end of the performance.
