Augmenting the symphonic music were video animations by Zak Margolis that projected concepts and images by Joe Cantrell (Cherokee) onto a very large screen above the orchestra. Brent Florendo Sitwalla-Plum (Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs) narrated the poetry of Ed Edmo (Shoshone/Bannock), who lived at the Celilo Falls as a boy before it was inundated.
But at the center of the multi-media extravaganza was Ives’ musical depiction of the drama of the falls and what was lost in 1957 when The Dalles Dam submerged the fishing grounds in water, wiping out 15,000 years of continuous use. Yet, instead of sinking into melancholy, Ives and the accompanying imagery and text created a poignant and powerful statement that lifted the spirits of the audience by celebrating the resilience of our native peoples.
Ives, who is the principal cellist of the Oregon Symphony, has been steadily gaining attention for her compositions. One of her most recent works, “Immortal Beloved,” which explored the woman who was Beethoven’s real love interest, was premiered by Northwest Sinfonietta to an enthusiastic audience earlier this year (see my review for Oregon ArtsWatch here), and she will be taking a sabbatical from the Oregon Symphony in the fall to work on more commissions.
Originally written for chamber ensemble, “Celilo Falls” was premiered in 2022 by the Portland Chamber Orchestra. Afterwards, the Oregon Symphony commissioned Ives to expand the piece for a full-sized orchestra, and it was this revised version that the orchestra performed at the Schnitz after giving the premiere in Salem the night before. I heard piece in its chamber version at the Siletz Bay Music Festival last year (here is a link to my review in Oregon ArtsWatch), and I must say that I preferred the new version – guided superbly by Music Director David Danzmayer – that the Oregon Symphony played.
Divided into eleven movements, “Celilo Falls” opened quietly with cellos and bassoon (Carin Miller), conveying the cosmos and timelessness. Then the violins created a flock of soaring birds and that transitioned to a gradual overlapping of chords from the entire orchestra and a prolonged crescendo that perfectly matched projected imagery of rushing water, salmon, and the awesome landscape of the falls.
As one photo dissolved into the next, we were given vivid impressions of the platforms, the nets, the poles, and brave fishermen. We also heard Edmo’s poems, which presented intimate moments, such has how the fishermen struck the heads of their catch so that they wouldn’t suffer and also the hardscrabble life of growing up without electricity and indoor plumbing.
The music successfully transitioned from the infinite to the intimate and vice versa with an intriguing variety of sonic choices. Quiet oboe (Martin Hébert) and flutes (Alicia DiDonato Paulsen, Emily Stanek, and Zachariah Galatis) evoked the mist around the falls. A percussive tap signaled the slap that stunned the fish. The tuba (JáTtik Clark) suggested the bone sticking out of a soup pot. Ratatats and loud bangs from the percussion section and a growling bass section emphasized the menacing aspect of the dam. A lovely cello solo (Justin Park) mirrored the face of a petroglyph. Whispering violins accompanied images of the cosmos.
A faint passage from the hymn “What a Friend We Have in Jesus” hinted at missionaries and their church services, and a phrase from Mussorgsky’s “Pictures at an Exhibition” brought up images of chickens running about.
Reinforced by Ives’ music, the weatherworn but strong faces of indigenous people emphasized their ties to the river and resoluteness. The audience really got it, and responded to the piece with cheers and a standing ovation that became louder when Ives and Cantrell came to center stage, and that made the evening even more memorable.
“Celilo Falls” was a tough act to follow, but Danzmayr and the orchestra – with Ives in the principal cello position – made the most of “Scheherazade,” delivering an outstanding performance of Rimsky-Korsakov’s beloved work. It seemed that Danzmayr encouraged the musicians to just go for it, and we listeners were taken on an absolutely thrilling ride. Each section of the orchestra shined, and concertmaster Sarah Kwak’s playing enchanted listeners with visions of the sleek and sinewy storyteller who held off death for one-thousand-and-one nights.
No comments:
Post a Comment