“Voices of Strength” from the Santa Monica Symphony

Music Director Pola Benke recognizing the Santa Monica Symphony's long-serving members.

REVIEW

Santa Monica Symphony Orchestra, JAMS Performing Arts Center, Santa Monica

DAVID J BROWN

Pola Benke.

Having missed Pola Benke’s first season as the Santa Monica Symphony’s new Music Director (“Scenes from Life,” 2025-2026), it was more than time to head north for the opening concert of her second, at the comfortable, attractive, and acoustically fine 750-seat auditorium of the John Adams Middle School Performing Arts Center. This season’s theme is “Voices,” and the “Voices of Strength” on the bill were Nordic, Slavic, and Bohemian in turn, in a program that almost, but not quite, adhered to the time-honored overture/concerto/symphony layout.

The almost-overture was one of Sibelius’s many small-scale celebratory pieces, his Andante festivo JS34b, commissioned in 1922 by the management of the Finnish Säynätsalo sawmill to mark its 25th anniversary. In 1929 he expanded the string quartet original for performance at a niece’s wedding, and nine years later—acceding to a proposal that he conduct one of his own works for a live transatlantic broadcast to the New York World’s Fair—directed the Finnish Radio Symphony Orchestra in the piece, newly rescored for string orchestra and timpani. This was Sibelius’s last appearance on an orchestra podium and the only performance by him that seems to have survived.

Jean Sibelius in 1939.

To judge by her account—paced judiciously between spaciousness and onward flow—the Andante festivo is close to Pola Benke’s heart, and her rapport with the SMSO strings showed in their unanimity throughout and careful observance of the work’s slow dynamic shifts. As ever, Sibelius’s genius withholding of the timpani until the final four measures imparted its thrilling frisson of unanticipated extra sonority.

The evening’s concerto was no over-played Romantic warhorse. If—to quote Ms. Benke’s own eloquent program note—the Andante festivo’s “strength comes from simplicity, dignity, and calm,” that of Shostakovich’s Cello Concerto No. 1 in E-flat major, Op. 107 (1959) lay in his resilience and “remarkable ability to preserve his own artistic voice.” Though written well into the post-Stalin “Khrushchev thaw” the concerto is a haunted, emotionally ambivalent work, pivoting between teeth-clenched jauntiness in its outer movements and stillness in the Moderato second movement.

Dmitri Shostakovich in 1959.

In the more than capable hands of Polish-born cellist Marek Szpakiewicz, the obsessive repetition of the opening four-note motif (a kind of variant on Shostakovich’s personal DSCH motto) felt emblematic of constraint or even entrapment, with the astringent rhythmic responses crisply cued by Ms. Benke’s baton and punched out by the SMSO winds—the piccolo’s upward skirls especially prominent—taking that motif by the scruff of the neck and relentlessly propelling it onward (for anyone regarding Shostakovich as a prolix composer the snappy brevity of this first movement is the perfect corrective!).

Marek Szpakiewicz.

Mr. Szpakiewicz’s almost-continuous cello line in the slow movement had all the espressivo that the composer repeatedly demands, and the numerous duets between soloist and other players were immaculately cued and executed. Almost uniquely, this concerto’s cadenza comprises an entire, independent movement, exploratory rather than virtuosic, and here Mr. Szpakiewicz sounded all its emotional resonances before the increasingly animated solo line triggered the finale.

The Allegro con moto finale revisits the first movement’s agitated substance, with in this performance particularly arresting contributions from shrill clarinet and clamant single horn (another aspect of Shostakovich’s economy in this concerto is its modest forces). Though the finale effectively ties thematic knots back to the first movement, it offers no real catharsis, which can make Shostakovich’s First Cello Concerto a difficult work to bring off successfully in concert. Here, however, the wholehearted applause signalled the fine achievement of soloist, conductor, and orchestra alike.

Mr. Szpakiewicz returned for an encore, a rapt account of Ennio Morricone’s main theme from Once Upon a Time in the West that towards the end included a pause so daringly protracted that some may have wondered whether he had in fact finished.

Pola Benke opened the second half with tributes to and acknowledgments of the SMSO’s most long-serving members, and then proceeded to its one work, the Symphony No. 7 in D minor, Op. 70, B. 141 (1884-85) by Antonin Dvořák. Though by measure count it’s the shortest of his nine, as well as the most economically scored, the Seventh is—as host Rich Capparela noted in some introductory remarks—generally held by Dvořák aficionados to be the greatest of them, and Ms. Benke’s powerfully integrated performance certainly underlined the claim.

Antonin Dvořák in 1882.

The first movement marking, Allegro maestoso, is an immediate conductorial challenge—too fast, and you compromise the majesty; too slow, and momentum is lost—but to these ears Ms. Benke got it just right, with the opening theme on violas and cellos over a soft timpani roll and tremolando basses, rising and falling back on itself within its limited pitch range, purposeful yet imbued with foreboding. The movement proceeded with authority and surety of aim towards the tragic power of the recapitulation’s climax and then its dramatic collapse back into the dark mood of the opening, and the drawn-out pp conclusion.

The Poco adagio slow movement unfolded just as coherently, with some noble solo horn contributions, and if the Scherzo could have benefited from just a little more driven inexorability, the finale didn’t drop a stitch. It accumulated expressive weight and intensity so that the overwhelmingly tragic coda felt fully earned, Ms. Benke and her fine orchestra drawing on yet more reserves of power to deliver it as molto maestoso as Dvořák could have desired. Bravo!

---ooo---

Santa Monica Symphony Orchestra, JAMS Performing Arts Center, 1630 Pearl St, Santa Monica, Saturday, September 19, 2026, 7.00 p.m.

Images: The performance: author; Pola Benke: Courtesy Long Beach Symphony; Sibelius, Shostakovich, Dvořák: Wikimedia Commons; Marek Szpakiewicz: Azusa Pacific University; Once Upon a Time in the West poster: www.themagnificent60s.com.

If you found this review to be useful, interesting, or informative, please feel free to Buy Me A Coffee!

Seattle’s Shining Stars Open New Symphony Season

Pianist Yefim Bronfman with the Seattle Symphony under Music Director Xian Zhang perform Rachmaninoff's Third Piano Concerto in the opening night of the SSO's 2026-2027 season.

REVIEW

Seattle Symphony Orchestra, Benaroya Hall, Seattle

ERICA MINER

Maestra Xian Zhang,

Music Director Xian Zhang and piano phenomenon Yefim Bronfman took center stage for Seattle Symphony’s glittering season opener on Saturday, September 19. The evening featured two 20th century Russian works: Prokofiev’s symphonic suite version of Lieutenant Kijé Op. 60, originally written for the film of the same name; and Rachmaninoff’s famously challenging Piano Concerto No. 3 in D minor, Op. 30. Both works displayed the conductor and soloist’s star qualities to the maximum.

Sergei Prokofiev: portrait by
 Pyotr Konchalovsky, 1934.

Now in her second season as SSO Music Director, Xian Zhang starts off buoyed by a hugely successful first season. Having fostered a close and mutually respectful relationship with the orchestra’s musicians since she first started working with them in 2008, she created an atmosphere of both ease and excitement from the opening downbeat throughout the entire program. Her high energy and enthusiasm, combined with the comfort of a maestro well-established in her role, greatly enhanced the enjoyment of the audience.

Poster for the Soviet film
comedy, Lieutenant Kijé.

Prokofiev was commissioned to write Lieutenant Kijé for the 1934 Leningrad-produced film version of the story. The five-movement Suite premiered the same year. As the composer sought to revamp his often dissonant and experimental style into something more accessible in keeping with the official Soviet concept of art, he believed the sharp but gentle satire of Kijé written in his own classical style to be the perfect solution. Its charm and ingenuousness proved to have wide and immediate appeal, influencing films as far away as Hollywood, e.g., Woody Allen’s 1975 Love and Death.

Zhang brought out both the composer’s melodiousness and engaging simplicity. The pompousness woven into the piece, such as in Kijé's Wedding, came off as spirited but also elegant. The cornet solos, which virtually amounted to a concerto in their prominence throughout the piece, were well played. Solos by the tenor saxophone (inspired by Prokofiev’s admiration of Ravel’s use of the instrument), flute, and a string trio of double bass, viola and cello, were tastefully done. The Troika was pensive then lively, moving along at an exhilarating pace. The nostalgia and charm of Romance and the sweet and poignant final movement, The Burial of Kijé, primed the audience for the monumental solo work that followed.

Yefim Bronfman in action.

2010 Avery Fisher Prize winner Yefim Bronfman, whose name is instantly recognizable among the world’s foremost piano virtuosi, was an ideal last-minute replacement for the ailing Yuja Wang. Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 3, with its supremely challenging technical demands, served as the perfect showcase for Bronfman’s abundant musical talents. From the outset, the pianist displayed a winning combination of the crisp precision and abundant lyricism that makes him one of today’s most sought-after soloists on the concert stage. He performed the piece with the reverence and expertise of an artist in whom the music has lived for many years.

At the beginning of the first movement, Allegro ma non troppo, Bronfman kept his finger movements minimal and close to the keys, leaving room for the immense buildup to follow. He showed evidence of his extraordinary versatility in melodic passages that were crisp and even, and paved the way for the more expansive, inspired lyricism of the second theme. As the relentless intricacies of the first movement progressed through the infamously difficult development, Bronfman was unstoppable, gaining momentum in the execution of the passagework requiring the technical mastery and power for which he is famous.

Rachmaninoff in 1909,
by Robert Sterl.

The second movement, Intermezzo: Adagio, gave Bronfman the opportunity to combine his astonishingly light touch with effortless dexterity in the melancholic passages and to emote to the max in the appassionato sections. He languished indulgently and played up the sheer romanticism while delighting in the rapid, spirited passages.

In the ensuing Finale: Alla breve, Bronfman took off like a rocket and never stopped, escalating the excitement all the way to the end. The sheer immensity of his massive strength and astonishing command of the cascades of notes, which must number in the tens of thousands, led to a climax that was received with such fervor from the audience that the only possible remedy was an encore. He delivered one that delighted the crowd: Franz Liszt’s transcription of the Violin Caprice No. 17 in E-flat major by Nicolò Paganini, the second of Liszt's six Grandes Études de Paganini, S 141 (1838, rev 1851).

Daguerreotype of Liszt, 1843.

Though it hardly seems possible, the Liszt was in some ways even more impressive in its technical scope than the Rachmaninoff, alternating between a light touch and a huge demonstration of a sheer virtuosity that was transformative. Known as one of the most demanding works in the piano repertoire, the piece features interlocking octaves and requires nearly impossible stretches and precise hand-crossing. Bronfman delivered all of these, seemingly effortlessly. Also interesting were the knowing looks of the orchestra’s violinists as they watched and listened to a piece with which they perhaps were all too familiar. All in all, Bronfman is a technical wizard and mesmerizing performer.

In the Rachmaninoff accompaniment, the musicians responded beautifully to Zhang’s urgings to let loose in the tutti passages, producing a jubilant, uninhibited sound. In the solo sections, she kept the orchestra well-controlled but not to the point of being restrictive. The orchestra’s wind section, highlighted prominently in the score, delivered impressively. Zhang exercised her usual excellent control throughout each movement, handling the highly detailed score and interplay between soloist and orchestra with a deftness and skill characteristic of the most admired and respected music directors. This dazzling expertly executed program with its magnificent scores provided an intriguing foretaste of what is sure to be an exhilarating season to come.

---ooo---

Benaroya Hall, 200 University St, Seattle, WA 98101, Saturday, September 19, 7.30 p. m. 

Images: The performance: James Holt; Prokofiev, Lieutenant Kijé poster, Rachmaninoff, Liszt: Wikimedia Commons.