Composer Chihchun Chi-sun Lee (toward left, clapping) takes a bow after the Boston Symphony Orchestra premiered her “Formosan Triptych” on Jan. 16. Conductor Yu-An Chang stands behind his score. Robert Torres photograph
The Boston Symphony Orchestra’s embrace of international musics usually sticks to European traditions. But a collaboration between Taiwanese conductor Yu-An Chang and composer Chihchun Chi-sun Lee brought the vital heritage of their shared home to Symphony Hall Thursday evening.
Chang, one of the BSO’s assistant conductors, made his once-a-year subscription series appearance count, blending Lee’s premiere “Formosan Triptych,” Mozart’s piano concerto No. 25 (K. 503, with soloist Till Fellner), and with Tchaikovsky’s Third Symphony (“Polish”), in a stylish program.
The centerpiece of this program was clearly the Taiwanese collaboration, and Lee’s success in creating an accessible but complex symphonic language from disparate instrumentation, scales and styles.
Each of the three movements in “Formosan Triptych” has its own native origin—Bunun vocal music in the opening; Hok-lo folklore, also a rich vocal tradition, in the middle movement; and the southern Taiwanese Hakka music, pervasively percussionist, in the finale.
Its texture, and its once-in-a-lifetime sonic qualities, come from extended techniques, especially in the brass and winds, as well as the inclusion of five percussionists. Microtonality blends with tempered western scales, adding a luscious uncertainty to harmonies.
Each movement comes from a sharply different origins, and sounds it. Bunun singing is mimicked by horn and wind players humming pitches through their instruments in the opener.
The middle movement also evokes vocal music deliberately—a wind melody, passed individually through the section, is buttressed by the sound of an ocean drum, a kind of cross between a rain stick and a handheld percussion. The movement switches to a western approach (“Mahler-like” says the instruction to the horns), introduced by swelling strings, which culminates in a lovely marimba/vibraphone/xylophone trio. The finale pits the five percussionists in a call-and-response (or argument) with the rest of the orchestra.
Overall, “Formosan Triptych” seems to form gradually out of chaos. The breathy, whooshing sound from humming into mouthpieces that opens the work creates a soft palette of tone colors. The opening movement maintains that uncertain quality, exotic and searching. The middle movement, highlighted by the unusual ocean drum, and tremolo strings, sounds like the sea. The melody passing individually through the winds floats above it. The finale, announced with a fanfare, adds wood blocks to the trio of mallet percussion, and engages the orchestra in an neighborly quarrel.
The meter is marked 4/4 almost all the way through, but rarely sounds squared up. Chang kept a genial, loose pulse, swaying between the downbeats. This gave the work a grounded but human quality.
“Formosan Triptych” sounded simultaneously exotic and accessible. Lee clearly knew the sounds she wished to convey, and its complexities were clearly investigated by Chang. About fifteen minutes long, “Formosan Triptych” offers an inviting, unusual concert opener that should be heard again on other programs.
Mozart’s vast piano concerto achievements reached a pinnacle in the years 1784–86, with a dozen different creations in those formidably creative years. The K. 503, the last of that group, adds timpani and brass (two trumpets) in the outer movements to Mozart’s usual instrumental mix, making this C major more forceful.
None of Mozart’s concertos shortchange the soloist, but this one makes every effort to be symphonic. Fellner often found himself initiating short phrases, and turning them loose for the winds to complete the examination. Constant doublings from flute, oboe, bassoon and clarinet give the concerto a luster—as grand as this concerto can sound, its true appeal relies on Mozart’s great passion for winds, and his great artistry in writing for them.
Overall though, it was an uneven performance. Some of the piano phrasing had a sort of undernourished articulation—the notes were all there, but the whole was no greater than those notes. Fellner chose cadenzas by a mentor, the great Alfred Brendel. The most substantial cadenza, from the first movement, sounds every bit like Brendel himself, but not very much like Mozart.
The BSO only managed to perform Tchaikovsky’s third symphony—subtitled “Polish” from the hints of polonaise in the finale—twice in the last century. Too bad. The Third could just as easily be subtitled “Rhenish,” as it mimics Schumann’s five-movement symphony. Or “German,” from its second movement “alla Tedesca” (in German style) marking. Or even “Russian,” from the heavy borrowings in its Scherzo.
Whatever its nickname, the work has appeal that makes its scarcity on concert programs a mystery. Each of the movements showcases a corner of Tchaikovsky’s genius: varied dance rhythms, symphonic textures in the Scherzo, operatic sounding melodic passages. Lyrical to a fault, the Third builds to an inspirational chorale and fugue in its final movement.
Chang conducted every single measure with intention—the orchestra responded with equal intensity. His confidence and fluid direction were central to the appeal of the performance.
The program repeats Friday afternoon, Sunday and Tuesday evenings. bso.org; 866-266-1200.