Metropolitan Orchestra | Nicolas Ellis in the depths of Shostakovich

Not backing down from anything, The Press traveled to LaSalle to hear the “real” creation of the Double concerto for cello and harp by Denis Gougeon by the Orchester Métropolitain. An evening of unequal interest illuminated by the committed direction of Nicolas Ellis.

We cannot say that new music is neglected at OM, which created, just last week, a theremin concerto by composer Simon Bertrand.

The guest conductor wanted to remind the spectators who filled half of the approximately 800 seats in the Salle Jean-Grimaldi of the Théâtre Desjardins that they were “really” attending the creation, unlike those who will be attending Friday’s performances (at the Maison symphony) or Sunday (at the Regina Assumpta college).

THE double concerto was born of the friendship between the Montreal composer and the two soloists, cellist Stéphane Tétreault and harpist Valérie Milot, for whom he each composed a concerto.

If Simon Bertrand’s creation was program music (he described several episodes in the life of the inventor of the theremin), Denis Gougeon’s score was more like “pure” music.

The composer, in the program notes, describes his work as a “continuum [qui] never go back”, where “two ‘travellers’ […] move forward, from painting to painting, in a conversation that is often animated, sometimes marked by hesitation or great interiority”. We think of Don Quixote by Strauss, in a completely different language, since Gougeon is much more in a post-impressionist vein than in a post-romantic aesthetic.

If the concerto starts in canon, with beautiful orchestral and harmonic colors, we nevertheless have the impression of a gradual loss of breath. The form chosen by Gougeon, if it allows certain contrasts, lacks a common thread, “dramaturgy”.

The different atmospheres created lack relief in our opinion, with melodic and instrumental formulas sometimes somewhat stereotyped, despite some interesting orchestration effects in the woodwinds.

We therefore have a succession of tableaux, but tableaux which in themselves are not that interesting, even if the two soloists – and the conductor – struggle on stage. Accompanying a film, this “climatic” music would take on a whole new dimension. Alone, it lacks a little salt.

Denis Gougeon, who excels in short pieces (as evidenced by his formidable Six solar themes), would he lack inspiration in longer-term works?

Fortunately, there was plenty of inspiration after the intermission with the monumental Symphony n^oh 5 in d minor by Shostakovich, whose historical and musical ins and outs Ellis wisely explained.

Despite the sound dryness of the auditorium, the orchestra produces a rich and full sound. But above all, the very mature musical conception of the young conductor does a lot to make people love the work.

There is nothing really very fast in this symphony, with the two extreme movements marked allegro non troppo (the first being introduced by a vast moderato), a scherzo allegret and one largo. The conductor conforms to it wonderfully, holding the reins with panache and authority throughout the work. Slow is not synonymous with lack of intensity with Nicolas Ellis.

The concert began with the delicious Small suite for small orchestra by Germaine Tailleferre, member of the group of Six with Poulenc, Milhaud, Honegger, Auric and Durey. The three brief movements (“Prelude”, “Sicilienne” and “Finale”) each exude a very singular climate, a very unique “greenness”. A great music lesson. Because inventing something unlike anything else is perhaps a bit like that, the miracle of creation.