“Cathedrals of Sound” Revisited at Costa Mesa

Organist Paul Jacobs at the William J. Gillespie Concert Organ in the Segerstrom Hall for his performance of Guilmant’s Symphony No. 1 with the Pacific Symphony in their May
“Cathedrals of Sound” concert.

REVIEW

Pacific Symphony Orchestra, Renée and Henry Segerstrom Concert Hall, Costa Mesa

DAVID J BROWN

In some opening remarks from the podium, Pacific Symphony Music Director Carl St.Clair (left) noted that this was the third program entitled “Cathedrals of Sound.” Maybe the first predated my move to southern California, or I missed an interim, but the only previous one I recall was well over seven years ago (reviewed here). Then, as on the present occasion, it was enhanced by an opening selection of Gregorian chant by the Norbertine Fathers of St. Michael’s Abbey, Silverado, CA, before the main (indeed only) work, Bruckner’s Eighth Symphony.

That performance clearly showed Maestro St.Clair’s love for and affinity with the Austrian master’s music, but given the considerable time interval between then and the account of the Symphony No. 7 in E major WAB 107 (1881-83, rev. 1885) which filled most of the present concert, it seems unlikely that we will eventually be able to enjoy a complete Bruckner symphony cycle under his baton. That is a great pity, as this account of the Seventh largely reaffirmed the virtues of St.Clair’s approach—mostly spacious but carefully integrated tempi that emphasized the music’s through line rather than disjunction between Bruckner’s great blocks of sound, and acute sensitivity to instrumental color, contrast and balance.

Anton Bruckner in 1885
(portrait by Hermann von Kaulbach).

In other remarks at the start of the second half, immediately before the performance of the symphony, St.Clair alerted the audience to the need for patience: Bruckner does not reach out and seize the emotions; you have to go to him. He also noted the composer’s devotion to the organ, but in so doing perhaps did an unintentional disservice by the implicit notion that his style of scoring was basically a transfer of organ to orchestra.

Bruckner symphonies have been transcribed for organ, but rarely convincingly because these works are conceived in terms of orchestral, not organ, sonorities—in the contrasted timbres of individual instruments, their endless range of combinations, and the full tutti sound.

Ironically, perhaps, the superb Segerstrom Hall acoustic itself underlined this truth at every point in the Pacific Symphony’s account of the Seventh Symphony. This was clear at the very outset of the opening Allegro moderato, where after two measures of pp tremolandi in the 1st and 2nd violins—a barely audible but exquisite shimmer of sound under St.Clair’s baton—the indelibly memorable first theme ascended at just the right mezzo-forte in the cellos, partnered by a solo horn, more than usually distinct, to give the extra edge of aspiring nobility.

This theme arches majestically over a full 21 measures, and is immediately repeated in its entirety with winds and then brass added to the orchestral mix—Bruckner leaving no doubt as to the scale on which he conceives the movement. St.Clair’s masterly pacing of this opening extended through the more reflective second theme, then the positively skittish third motif, and then their long and inspired working out. His approach—steadily confident in the composer’s mastery of form and balance—recalled that of the late Jascha Horenstein, and extended all the way to the glorious conclusion where, over more than 50 measures of a gradual timpani crescendo (the only drum incursion in the whole movement), the hall filled with wave on wave of burnished tone from the whole Pacific Symphony at the top of its game.

The Adagio of Bruckner's Seventh Symphony reaches its climax.

The great Adagio was equally fine, weighty but still trenchant at St.Clair’s faithful observation of Bruckner’s Sehr feirlich und langsam (very solemn and slow) marking, with the golden-gravel sonorities of the four Wagner tubas that Bruckner introduced here for the first time in a non-operatic context immediately grounding the movement’s sound-world. At the mountain-top climax some 18 minutes in, the sometimes-disputed extra percussion were blessedly present—indeed this was the first time I’d seen a second triangle (one player, two hands) deployed at that moment, with literally ringing effect.

It’s often posited that there’s no one right way to interpret great music, and that’s certainly true of Bruckner’s Seventh. Equally though, different approaches bring different challenges, and at this point in the performance—half-way in terms of the number of movements but two-thirds in total duration—a smidgeon of doubt began to creep in. The Seventh is unique amongst his symphonies in that it comprises two very spacious movements followed by two much quicker and shorter ones. So how, given that we’ve already heard some of the grandest music in the orchestral repertoire, to avoid a sense of anti-climax, particularly at the very end, where Bruckner doesn't try to top his majestic close to the first movement?

A couple of years ago I enjoyed a very different account of the work from Philippe Jordan and the LAPO (reviewed here). After somewhat but not hugely quicker movements I and II (totaling around 41 minutes compared with St.Clair’s 45), Jordan took the scherzo at quite a lick, following the Sehr schnell (very fast) marking, and then proceeded onto the finale with barely a breath’s pause (though the score has no attacca indication). St.Clair, by contrast, continued the weightiness of the first two movements, giving the scherzo section itself a steady inexorability but maintaining a sense of forward movement in the trio so that when the scherzo returned the cumulative effect of the whole was an immensely powerful unity, accentuated by the Pacific Symphony’s playing.

As for the finale, St.Clair followed Bruckner’s Bewegt, doch nicht schnell (Moving, but not fast) marking at the start, but this movement, very subtly constructed and diverse in terms of pace and dynamic, somehow didn't quite take off and build with the needed sense of inevitability to its conclusion. Where M. Jordan kept the whole thing airborne right up to a crisply delivered final cadence that sidestepped the built-in problem of Bruckner’s simply not scoring it as the crowning moment of the symphony, here the sense of wearisome repetitiveness that can lurk in the background with this composer wasn't entirely avoided, and when that final climax did arrive, the hesitant initial applause showed that it hadn’t overcome the all-too-familiar “Is that actually the end?” audience response (though to be fair, it rapidly grew into a deserved ovation).

The Norbertine Fathers of St Michael's Abbey.

The program’s opening had been subject to late alteration, as readers of the booklet wondering why they weren’t listening to the promised Sinfonia in D major, BWV 1045 of J. S. Bach rapidly realized. In his opening remarks, Maestro St.Clair announced that the concert would be in remembrance of both the late William Gillespie, whose generosity had enabled building of the William J. Gillespie Concert Organ that we would hear played by Paul Jacobs, and of another generous Pacific Symphony donor, Elizabeth Stahr, who had died very recently.

The Norbertine Fathers  began with the Requiem Aeternam Introit, and then followed a radiant account from the full Pacific Symphony strings of the “Air on the G string” from Bach’s Orchestral Suite No. 3 in D major, BWV 1068—a far cry from the trumpet-topped jubilation and virtuosic solo violin of the extensive Sinfonia originally programmed—in turn succeeded by two more Gregorian chants from the Fathers, Requiem Aeternam Gradual and Lux Aeterna. The audience observed Carl St.Clair’s request that they refrain from applauding this whole opening section of the concert (a sensitive and devoted response that was in marked contrast to the persistent loud chatter beyond the circle of listeners that had marred the Norbertine Fathers’ earlier presentation in the foyer, below).

The main work in the first half was the Symphony No. 1, Op. 42 (1874) for organ and orchestra by Alexandre Guilmant (1837-1911), one of the illustrious roster of 19th century French organist-composers that also included Charles-Marie Widor, Louis Vierne, and Charles Tournemire. As with Widor’s own Symphonie pour orgue et orchestre, Op. 42, drawn from two of his solo organ symphonies, both of Guilmant’s were adapted from organ sonatas, Nos. 1 and 8 respectively, and in this performance his First Symphony made an assertive impression.

Alexandre Guiilmant

A little like the opening of Berlioz’s Te Deum, Guilmant begins with dramatic alternations between fortissimo organ and orchestra—the mighty Gillespie instrument under Paul Jacobs’ hands (and feet!) and the Pacific Symphony the perfect match for each other. After this 19-measure introduction, the main body of the movement ensues with an energetic main theme on organ pedals only, duly taken up by the orchestra, and then proceeds to a more lyrical second subject. All is developed and recapitulated, judiciously apportioned between organ and orchestra, and concludes resplendently.

A long lyrical theme infuses the aptly-named Pastorale second movement, exquisitely rendered initially by Paul Jacobs on (presumably) the flute stop specified by the composer, and then taken up by the orchestral winds, horns, and strings. The Allegro assai finale returns to spectacular confrontations and collaborations between the soloist and the whole orchestra, building up to a roof-raising conclusion with bass drum and cymbals reinforcing the tumult.

At a trim 23 minutes, Guilmant’s First Symphony was a concise, welcome, unhackneyed, and untrendy choice of companion to the Bruckner. While breaking no new ground structurally or harmonically, it is as tuneful and immediately enjoyable as anyone could desire, and Paul Jacobs, Carl St.Clair and the Pacific Symphony clearly relished working together in their exuberant performance. It would be splendid if at some future time they could reunite in Guilmant’s Second Symphony or the Widor Symphonie, or indeed explore further afield in the rich organ+orchestra repertoire.

Paul Jacobs acknowledges the ovation after his 
encore performance of Bach's Fugue in A minor.

Even this was not the end of a first half that was far more extensive than you usually get with a Bruckner symphony. Paul Jacobs returned to the organ loft for a substantial and virtuosic encore, the complete Fugue from J. S. Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in A minor, BWV 543, the spectacular conclusion of which included a passage of rapid pedal-work by Jacobs’ hard-working (and clearly visible) feet that brought the audience en masse to theirs. 

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Pacific Symphony Orchestra, Segerstrom Center for the Arts, Costa Mesa, Thursday, May 15, 2025, 8 p.m. 

Images: The performers: Doug Gifford; Bruckner and Guiilmant: Wikimedia Commons.