The Rebel From Vienna

Think what we might about aspects of its politics, about some of its social attitudes, Vienna is an inescapable spiritual capital for classical music lovers. From the city and its culture came the heart of the 18th and 19th century standard repertory. And modern music was born, if not exactly nurtured, there at the beginning of the 20th century.

Musical Vienna is thus regularly in our midst and on our minds, but even more so at the moment. This evening the Vienna Philharmonic begins a Costa Mesa visit with programs of core Viennese repertory. The Los Angeles Philharmonic, ever attuned to the First Viennese School (that of Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven) has an upcoming Mozart festival and is, season long, focusing on the Second (instigated by Schoenberg). Meanwhile, it has invited to town the leading figure of the so-called Third Viennese School, HK Gruber, whose recent trumpet concert, “Aerial,” had its U.S. premiere Friday night at Dorothy Chandler Pavilion.

Gruber is Viennese blue blood. Direct descendant of the composer of “Silent Night,” former Vienna Choir Boy, and for many years a member of the Austrian Radio Orchestra (double bass), he is also a rebel. He has infected Viennese high art with shocking popular culture. More shocking still, he is irreverent and funny. In a wacky television film 11 years ago, Gruber celebrated the bicentennial of Mozart’s death by trundling through the disgusting grunge of Vienna’s sewers looking for Mozartean detritus. His most famous work, “Frankenstein!!,” makes him seem part of the Vienna branch of the P.D.Q. Bach clan.

But there is also a serious side to Gruber, who was powerfully influenced by the Kurt Weill and Bertolt Brecht agitprop. Nor has he entirely overthrown mighty Viennese musical tradition or the potent influence of Schoenberg and his followers. “Aerial” is a mature synthesis of all these elements. It is also dramatically exciting, intellectually compelling, theatrical, visceral and altogether gorgeous.

And maybe just a little bit disingenuous. In an Upbeat Live conversation between the composer and Hakan Hardenberger (the phenomenal Swedish trumpet player for whom the concerto was written), Gruber spoke about how he, anti-imperialist that he is, would never subscribe to the old-fashioned Viennese hierarchy of soloist as hero, and musicians of the orchestra as the lesser figures in the background. And to his credit, he does give the orchestra interesting and intricate music to play in a dialogue with the solo trumpet. But I can’t imagine anyone in the audience not having been riveted by Hardenberger, who called this the most difficult and complex concerto he has ever played.

“Aerial” looks down on Austria as if from space, so that Vienna seems to merge into the globe and world history at large. The first movement takes its title, “Done With the Compass--Done With the Chart!” from Emily Dickinson, and invokes musical creation. It begins with Hardenberger singing and playing into the trumpet, simultaneously creating otherworldly chords against a glinting background of string harmonics and twinkling percussion.

Resonances of various sorts are a key element of the concerto, with Hardenberger displaying an array of trumpet mutes and also playing a traditional Swedish cow horn. The movement is an exercise in mesmerizing extended melody, often embellished by the trumpet with a Miles Davis brand of cool virtuosity as well as some bits of ecstatic Eastern ornamentation. And all this is impishly made from hidden 12-tone rows, Schoenberg style.

The second movement, “Gone Dancing,” is a tribute to Fred and Ginger, with Gruber’s telescope now trained on Hollywood, 1940, although unsteadily, as it occasionally lurches toward Vienna, Eastern Europe and North Africa.

Dance steps are slowly tried out and embroidered. It gets raucous and then, with the slightest hint of Viennese coyness, ethereal. The ending is a return to raw resonance, as the trumpeter walks into the orchestra and plays trumpet tones into the piano, causing its strings to sympathetically vibrate.

Daniel Harding was on the podium. He first conducted the Los Angeles Philharmonic at the Ojai Festival in 1997 as a 21-year-old of tremendous promise. Now, with his first appearance at Chandler Pavilion, he is a seasoned conductor and a major international figure. He opened the program with a sensitive and loving account of Ives’ “Central Park in the Dark,” its quiet, vaporous string music and distant pop tunes of the time in the winds offering a kind of American preview of “Aerial.”

After intermission came Strauss’ grand tone poem, “Ein Heldenleben” (A Hero’s Life), the composer’s feigned celebration of himself, his battle with the critics, his infatuation with his quirky, impossible wife and his contented old age. It was vividly played. Harding has an impetuous side and fought Strauss’ absurd battles as though he meant them. He painted Pauline, Strauss’ wife, with great broad strokes. It wasn’t the last word in character finding, but an impressive performance nonetheless.

Concertmaster Martin Chalifour played the violin solos representing Pauline with elegance, although Harding seemed to push for something a little more rapturous. I am glad the violinist held back. With the musical and social nuances of “Aerial” in the ear, Strauss’ mock megalomania could too easily sound like the genuine article.