Auf Wiedersehen, Christoph

by Peter Burwasser

And so the Eschenbach era in Philadelphia is over. Late last month he announced his plan to step down as music director following the 2007/2008 season. Of course, there is the standard happy talk of a future relationship, and that may yet materialize, but a quick denouement, in the manner of parting lovers, is more likely, as occurred with the departure of Riccardo Muti, who became a phantom conductor laureate after his split with the band in 1992. The whole situation is puzzling and frustrating, and not a little sad. Christoph Eschenbach has, on so many levels, fulfilled his commitment splendidly. He has infused the Philadelphia Orchestra with a lively sense of innovation and connection to living music that hearkens back to the storied Stokowski era.

More significantly, he has given us a beautiful sounding orchestra. Quibbles about particular interpretive choices are legitimate and responsible, but it is hard to deny that when Eschenbach is on the podium, this great ensemble has a sheen and cohesiveness that brings truth to the truism that this is still one of the great musical organizations on the face of the earth. His predecessor, Wolfgang Sawallisch, demanded, and was accorded, a high standard of excellence, but his goals were achieved within a narrow range of interpretive vision. Eschenbach has pushed and prodded the band in a more aggressive way, asking for tempo extremes and rhythmic flexibility that are not in the tradition of the orchestra. These are qualities that have been prominently on display for the ongoing Mahler festival — remarkably, the first cycle of the symphonic output of that composer in the history of the orchestra. This was, after all, the orchestra that gave American premieres of Mahler's music in the early 20th century.

One recalls the feathery textures of a luminous reading of the Blumine, the discarded but heavenly slow movement from the first symphony. There was the brave, wide-open sound for the Mahler orchestration of the Schubert string quartet Death and the Maiden. And there was the astonishing, riveting playing of the orchestra in the song cycle Das Lied von der Erde, a performance, alas, deprived of greatness by a solo stint from baritone Thomas Hampson that skirted the dark, violent beauty of this masterpiece that Eschenbach seemed so attuned to.

And now what? Or, should we say, now who? This remains one of the most rarified job openings in the classical music universe, and so the field is wide-ranging. But this is a pyramid with an eternally small apex. Artistic excellence will be the highest priority, which is appropriate. Put this on the wish list as well: relative youthfulness, English as a native language, and a central commitment to the community. Wouldn't it be something to have a conductor-in-chief who actually owned a house here instead of a glorified hotel room?

(p_burwasser@citypaper.net)