Welcome return of Mario Venzago launches the ISO's 2024-25 Classical Series

Among the puzzling cliches this music critic has found in the writing of some colleagues is the tendency to object to variations in tempo that strike the reviewer as breaking the momentum or introducing hitches in a work's steady movement forward. I think any variations in tempo that the score doesn't explicitly require are not necessarily interruptions in the cohesiveness of symphonic movement, for example. Sometimes they convey the meaning of a composition more fully than a narrowly precise performance. 

Granted, complicating the pulse of a piece of music can verge on unsteadiness, for which the conductor ought to be held to account. I'm not saying that  bending "interpretation" in matters of tempo can't be excessive. But often I wonder: Is the reviewer really bothered by that variety such that the music becomes hard to follow, almost unintelligible? Or is the point simply to cavil at an interpretive choice for the sake of showing off familiarity with the piece?

Mario Venzago: amiable, focused, red-scarfed

Given my skepticism on those questions, I was charmed and persuaded by what Mario Venzago, the Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra's sixth music director, drew from the orchestra Friday night in Robert Schumann's Symphony No. 3 in E-flat major, op. 97 ("Rhenish"). Propositions posed immediately in the first movement were treated to answering phrases that felt like true responses, not just arbitrary juxtapositions. 

In Schumann's case, Venzago explained to the audience, the romantic language of solo piano, the bedrock of Schumann's compositional achievement, influences momentum. The contrasts, he said, may be summed up in the word "rubato," literally "robbed," where the pulse is varied by stealing some pace from one place and moving it to another. 

Thus, the forthright ardor of the first movement, marked "Lebhaft" (or "lively"), was checked by answering phrases that function as commentary on what has preceded them. Schumann characterized the aesthetic behind such contrasts as figures he named the impulsive, assertive Florestan and the more reflective, inwardly centered Eusebius. Those contrasts in his personality, while controlled in his music, unfortunately evolved into what today we would call bipolar disorder.

The first movement hangs together, and certainly did so in the evident rapport between the Swiss maestro and the musicians, many of whom have joined the orchestra since he was here (2002-2009). Miscommunication about his contract generated tension with management that led to Venzago's premature departure when he was still evidently beloved by ISO players and much of the public.

In the Schumann Third, whose nickname indicates the composer's salute to the Rhine and, in particular, the Cologne Cathedral near which it flows, Venzago seemed devoted to letting  Eusebius have his say, not to be overshadowed by the flamboyant Florestan. The interaction between the two aspects was particularly effective in the balanced climax of the second-movement Scherzo. 

Sometimes criticized for insufficient variety of color, Schumann's orchestration shows forth vividly enough when it is well-balanced. That was true in the fourth movement Friday. Its "Feierlich" label indicates the majesty of this music, whose ceremonious quality simply glowed in this performance. The color of the trombone predominates, but the spectrum widens because of what the other instruments contribute. Reinforcement of timbre need not mean blandness or lack of imagination in orchestration.  Venzago was clearly aware of this richness and knew how to bring it out. His fusing of this movement to the finale was well-judged, as the "Lebhaft" designation again held sway. 

The guest conductor's sympathetic understanding of this weekend's guest soloist was also superb. Linked

Karen Gomyo shines in Bruch and Piazzolla.

to Karen Gomyo's nuanced interpretation of Max Bruch's Violin Concerto No. 1 in G minor, Venzago and the ensemble achieved a marvelous transition between the first movement and the Adagio that followed, with its ethereal melody.

 Gomyo's playing of the first movement, Prelude: Allegro moderato, had such a refreshingly chilly vigor and keen articulation that for the first time, I was hearing in this concerto foreshadowings of Jan Sibelius in his violin concerto. Throughout, Gomyo found wealth across all registers of the violin, especially at the lower end.

She and Venzago seemed of one mind about giving the drawn-out passages of the finale room to breathe among the high energy of the main material. For an encore, she delighted the audience with a piece drawn from one of her specialties: the "new tango" of Astor Piazzolla. This example  had a range of seductive twists and turns, arabesques rubbing shoulders with sly glissandos.

The program (to be repeated at 5:30 p.m. today) opens with Jennifer Higdon's most popular composition, the memorial "blue cathedral" (lower case being her idea) from the turn of this century. The large orchestra encompasses a wide display of percussion, with chimes prominent and even small rattles, shaken by string players, gradually flecking the closing pages of the score.  

Significant flute and clarinet solos were well dispatched by Austin Brown and Samuel Rothstein, respectively. The mourning element is subtle but covers a wide expanse of mood, from intense to wispily reminiscent. Venzago conducted the work with evident commitment to its variegated design. The stage lighting for these concerts, up high and on each side, was richly blue during "blue cathedral," then carried through slightly diluted for the rest of the program.