The Boston Musical Intelligencer Review: BSO, Guerrero Brilliant in Ortiz Revolución diamantina

by John Ehrlich (march 1, 2025)

In the powerful and brilliant local premiere of Mexican composer-phenom Gabriela Ortiz’s Revolution dimantina, a ballet in six acts for symphony orchestra and eight amplified voices, guest conductor Giancarlo Guerrero, eight women members of the terrific new-music choir The Crossing, and the full force of the Boston Symphony Orchestra collaborated for 45-plus minutes of sonic splendor that stealthily crept then surged, thrust, and clamored, with abundant color and arresting drama into the ears of a rapt Symphony Hall audience Thursday evening for an “event” of the first magnitude, reflecting the immense talent of a gifted story-teller who writes for an orchestra with a masterful hand.

Ortiz, who will surely make for an exciting guide at this summer’s Festival of Contemporary Music at Tanglewood, was present in the hall to hear an assured interpretation of her remarkable score; Guerrero clearly and confidently communicated every complexity and challenge this variegated work demanded, only occasionally glancing at the score on the stand in front of him. Here was a tour-de-force on many levels, and all on stage rose mightily to the occasion. The five-member percussion section shone particularly brightly: the printed score lists more than 82 instruments in their purview.

It was a bit dismaying, therefore, to see so many empty seats in Symphony Hall. What kept people away from this remarkable program? I urge anyone with a smidgen of curiosity for what is happening in today’s new world of orchestral composition to attend tonight.

I took copious notes during the performance, but found the sounds emanating from the stage so astoundingly riveting that I put my pen down and happily reveled in Ortiz’s all-encompassing aural structures. I had begun with such descriptors as “…tinkling bells at outset, gamelan-like percussion ensuing, brilliant, tribal, elemental, pentatonic, motoric rhythm, voices used instrumentally, occasional individual words interjected, vivid color, constantly engaging sound, virtuoso instrumental lines intertwining and solo…” but I admit I ultimately stopped writing to concentrate on listening. There was so much to hear…

The BSO’s handout booklet, which I found to be especially helpful as a guide, contains an extremely well-informed note and description of Revolución dimantina by Alejandro L. Madrid, Naumberg Professor of Music at Harvard, and clearly a huge admirer of Ortiz’s work. This, in addition to the composer’s important personal note about Revolución, helped us understand what inspired what we heard. The dramaturgy supplied by Ortiz’s collaborator, the esteemed Mexican author Cristina Rivera Garza, was fascinating to read but proved difficult to follow as a listening guide. It is available HERE.

Ortiz and Garza believe in bringing appropriate outrage to today’s all-too pervasive violence against women. Both were moved by events they witnessed in Mexico City: the August, 2019 “Glitter March” where protesters tossed pink glitter at the Chief of Police to denounce his having done nothing about the men on his watch who had immorally assaulted an innocent woman. Later, on March 8, 2022 a contingent of female police officers marched in solidarity with other feminist groups on International Women’s Day, chanting together: “Mujer escucha, eta es tu lucha” – “Listen up, women, this is your struggle.” This back story permeates the entire score’s direction and focus. At many times the affect felt overtly dramatic in its insistent rhythms, shouted and chanted vocalisms, and powerful sense of striding invincibility. Here, the women of The Crossing were particular affecting.

If you think there’s nothing new of merit happening in the classical concert world these days, this composer and her composition will send that notion packing. Hear this concert, if you are able, in Symphony Hall tonight. An event such as this is best heard live and in-person.

After intermission came wonderful Tchaikovsky.

German cellist Alban Gerhardt soloed in the charming and demanding Variations on a Rococo Theme, Op. 33 in the popular Fitzenhangen revision. Gerhardt exhibited a pleasant and pliable tone and elegant command of the challenging solos, though it took a moment or two for him to sound completely engaged. No matter, though. The players broadly smiled as this loveliness wended its way; Gerhardt’s skills—especially his dead-on intonation of the several treacherous high harmonics―gave pleasure in abundance. After a well-deserved ovation, he gave us an engaging reading of the Prelude of J.S. Bach’s Cello Suite No.1 in G Major, BWV 1007.

Guerrero had forgone his baton for this half of the evening, and after his sensitively nuanced accompaniment of the Variations, he reappeared to present Tchaikovsky’s all-too-rarely-heard masterwork, Francesca da Rimini, Symphonic fantasy after Dante, Opus 32. Composed just before the Rococo Variations, Francesca da Rimini is that work’s polar opposite. Tchaikovsky was in a period of deep melancholy and despair, grappling with life issues that seemed insurmountable. He was lonely, depressed, and struggling with his homosexuality. It was this combination of emotional challenges that made him particularly susceptible to Dante’s tragic tale of an awkward arranged marriage and an ensuing adulterous relationship that led to the murder of the two lovers by the wronged and jealous husband. In Dante’s tale, the murdered lovers are consigned to the second circle of Hell where the lustful are punished by having to endure dark and violently stormy winds, whirling in eternity. Harlow Robinson’s essay quotes Ciaran Carson’s translation of Dante’s dramatic description of this horrible fate:

 …this infernal, never-ending blast
 drives every soul before it in its sweep,
 tormenting them with every turn and twist.

who, confronted by the ruin, weep,
and gnash their teeth, and moan, and curse and swear,
and blaspheme God, and bawl, and howl, and shriek.

Needless, to say, these words provided fertile ground for Tchaikovsky’s agitated imagination. In the span of only three weeks he produced his remarkable score, a brilliant and ingenious musical portrait of two lost souls trapped in an eternal vortex of retribution and regret.

I wish that Guerrero had paid a bit more attention to the languors and melancholy of this remarkable score. His traversal, while surely exciting and assured, pressed inexorably forward, with all the high emotions of the fortissimo sort essayed and relished to the detriment of the quieter, more contemplative moments. Not to say those quieter moments weren’t beautifully played; in particular I cite the famous extended clarinet solo, sensitively shaped and caressed by the BSO’s esteemed Principal William Hudgins. One could certainly defend Guerrero’s approach to this impassioned music, but I wished for a bit more of the quiet passion within in the lines to be brought out, found to a gratifying extent in Serge Koussevitsky’s renowned BSO interpretations, both in commercial recorded form on RCA 78s, as well as heard in a couple of incendiary live concert transcriptions. His protégé, Leonard Bernstein, has also better balanced pathetique texts with fiery on his New York Philharmonic traversals. Yet, any opportunity to hear this remarkable score played by the BSO, with its superb brass players encouraged to give their all, should be welcomed.

So, in balance, an important evening of music-making at a very high level of execution in Symphony Hall. Tonight offers the remaining opportunity to hear it in-person.

Full article HERE