I hope the audience had a sense of how brilliant
the orchestration was for this work. Orchestration is an art, a craft, and a
science all rolled into one. Not even Beethoven got orchestration right,
according to Richard Wagner who re-orchestrated significant sections of
Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. (In Beethoven’s defense, the technology of brass
instruments changed by Wagner’s lifetime.)
Orchestration takes knowledge of all the
capabilities of the instruments and what happens with the sound when they are
blended together. It takes knowledge of how to write the notes for the
various instruments because they are not all the same. None of that is as easy
as it may seem. What bowing should the violins use? Should there be solos for
the melody and which instruments should play them? There are dozens of
different percussion instruments, which ones to choose? Those seemingly simple
questions are not so simple. Then, add in a chorus; a celeste; and the
lead voices, guitars, and mandolin of Brian and Marty. When should the chorus
sing, and when should they not sing? Everything becomes a choice, but based
upon extensive knowledge. There are literally thousands of different
choices to make in orchestration.
The Grand Pops Orchestra is smaller compared to
a full-sized symphony orchestra and that is more of a challenge, too. There is
only one flute, one oboe, one trumpet, one trombone, etc., etc., etc. One wrong
choice could result in a very exposed sound with the size of the pops
orchestra. There were no wrong choices in the orchestration. The celeste, known
mostly for the iconic “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” by Tchaikovsky can easily
become abused and turned into a gimmick—not so in this work. Instead, the
celeste added beauty and dignity to an otherwise tragic event, the death of a
soldier.
Probably the best section of the work is
“Requiem” The sound of the violins was ethereal, like it came down from Heaven
itself.
Overall, however, despite the theme of the
music, “Falling Water River” is not overly dramatic. There are some
bright spots in the music. Usually performers remain motionless, stoic,
and seemingly uncaring when they are sitting on stage, waiting for their
turns. The performance in Dubuque shattered that mold, too. A
couple of the women in the chorus tapped their feet and nodded their heads in
time with the music in between their singing parts. It was refreshing to
see the performers not hide their enjoyment of the music.
It was difficult to absorb the sheer genius of
this work in just one performance. There was a second performance of “Falling
Water River” the next day but my work schedule was a major barrier.
Otherwise, I would have grabbed a hotel room in Dubuque on the spur of the
moment and heard the work again the next day.
A few years ago, one of my co-workers got sent
to Iraq in the National Guard. He returned two years later. The
first time I saw him again, I gave him a hug but he held me more closely and
tightly than I ever expected, and he rested his warm cheek against mine.
It was a sense of touch that I cannot forget. Now I understand. It
was as though that former soldier understood how lucky he was to return,
unharmed, and he conveyed his luckiness in one short embrace. When I hear
the brighter places in “Falling Water River,” I can almost feel him holding me
tightly. I cannot, however, imagine what it must be like for those whose
loved ones never returned, and they will never feel that kind of a touch from
their soldiers again.
