At the Schermerhorn
THE NSO PLAYS BARTÓK, BATES, AND RIMSKY-KORSAKOV
On May 1, 2026, the Nashville Symphony Orchestra performed The Miraculous Mandarin and Music of Bates in Laura Turner Hall at Nashville’s Schermerhorn Symphony Center—Giancarlo Guerrero conducted. The program opened with Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov’s (1844–1908) Russian Easter Overture, Op. 36 (1888). It was followed by two works by contemporary composer Mason Bates (b. 1977): Passage for Mezzo-Soprano, Orchestra, and Laptop (2017) and The Rhapsody of Steve Jobs (2021). The evening concluded with Béla Bartók’s (1881–1945) Miraculous Mandarin (1918–1919, 1926).
This concert stands out as one of my favorites because of the extraordinary range it demanded from the orchestra. Each work exposed a different facet of the ensemble’s sound: from luminous late-Romantic color to Bates’s inventive contemporary textures with synthesized timbres and multimedia, and finally to the raw intensity of Bartók’s score. Under Guerrero’s direction, the orchestra handled these stylistic changes with clearness and determination, resulting in an experience that was both visceral and exciting.
Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov was part of the Russian nationalist group of composers called Moguchaya kuchka, which translates to “The Mighty Little Heap.” This term was first used in 1867, though later it became known as “The Five.” Many musicians who studied out of Burkholder, Grout, and Palisca’s A History of Western Music may remember this group as “The Mighty Five” or “The Russian Five.”
Rimsky-Korsakov dedicated the Russian Easter Overture to Modest Mussorgsky (1839–1881) and Alexander Borodin (1833–1887), two members of “The Five” who had recently passed away. This act stood as both personal and national, marking their group’s mission to create a distinct Russian sound. In the Overture, Rimsky-Korsakov used Obikhod—a collection of common Russian Orthodox chants—as the primary musical material.[1] The Nashville Symphony emphasized this intent by featuring the composer’s broader modal palette, evoking a spirit reminiscent of the Byzantine Empire.
The composer foregrounded the Dorian and Mixolydian modes. Though these are Western modes, Rimsky-Korsakov chose them for their similarity to the Oktoechos, or eight-toned system behind Byzantine chants. In the NSO’s performance, Dorian sonorities appeared primarily in the introduction. The mode features a lowered third and a raised sixth compared to a major scale. Strings and woodwinds, by raising the sixth, created an archaic atmosphere, without the sentimental sadness, typical of Western Romanticism, of the Aeolian mode or minor key. By contrast, the more celebratory sections use Mixolydian sonorities—a major scale with a lowered seventh. This reduces the usual forward momentum of Western music. Rimsky-Korsakov used both modes to evoke Russian liturgical music—suspended, communal, and reflective.
Additionally, as the dense textures of the overture subsided ten minutes into the performance, the focus shifted to Assistant Principal Trombonist Anthony Cosio-Marron for a critical and exposed solo. In that charged stillness, he commanded the hall with a sound of extraordinary refinement. Even among soloists of the highest caliber, his tone quality was distinctive for its impeccably centered and resplendent clarity—Splendid!
Next, Mason Bates emerged onto the scene in the early 2000s, gaining wide attention with his 2007 Liquid Interface. His work soon entered the repertoires of major American orchestras, including the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, San Francisco Symphony, and Los Angeles Philharmonic. The May 1 performance was special: both Bates selections, Passages and The Rhapsody of Steve Jobs, were recorded live, adding significance to the event. Live recordings represent not only an orchestra’s precision, but also the risk and immediacy of performance, sharpening a performer’s focus. This affirmed the orchestra’s attachment to Bates’s music and signaled that these interpretations were meant to stand as a documented artistic record. The NSO surpassed its own high standards. This review will focus on Passage.
Passage for Mezzo Soprano, Orchestra, and Laptop (also…. Mezzo-Soprano, Orchestra, and Electronics [2]) was commissioned in 2017 by the National Symphony Orchestra in Washington, D.C., for the 100th birthday celebration of President John F. Kennedy (1917–1963). It is difficult to categorize Passages by genre. It feels much like listening to a symphonic song-cycle, yet without the “cycle.” Parts of it feel like a melodrama or a dramatic scene for voice and orchestra with layered electronic sounds and archival sound bites. (See MCR’s 4/27/2026 Bates interview: https://www.musiccityreview.com/3b1x)
I find the source material for Passage fascinating because it draws on both Walt Whitman’s (1819–1892) Passage to India (1870) and Kennedy’s May 25, 1961, space-race address to Congress, “Moonshot.” Bates brought the words of both Whitman and Kennedy together to conceptually illustrate two different—temporally and spatially—notions of “passage.” Whitman’s poem “Passage to India” describes his excitement about the technological progress, spiritual expansion, and budding global connections of the nineteenth century. Conversely, Kennedy’s “Moonshot” address speaks of space exploration—both are importantly visionary.
The two texts remain separate throughout the piece in an intriguing way. Bates establishes Whitman’s poem as the main melodic thrust, sung by the mezzo-soprano, while integrating the words of Kennedy and others into the texture via electronics. At key moments in the piece, the two textual streams intersect through a deliberate structural and rhetorical design. At several occurrences in the piece, the mezzo-soprano’s sung line gives way to Kennedy’s recorded voice, as if handing off a phrase mid-thought, then picking it up again in a coordinated, fluid exchange. At other times, key points of the speech trigger the orchestra to shift into a sustained drone. This allows Kennedy’s voice to emerge with unfiltered power. Bates sharpens this clarity through digital processing. By elongating vowels and updating Kennedy’s Bostonian cadence using DAW tools, he ensures the archival speech connects with more precision.
The composer refined how the two texts interacted by studying Whitman’s poem and identifying a myriad of shared words and concepts between it and Kenney’s address. The President’s message of progress and exploration to align specific archival fragments with their thematic counterparts in “Passage to India.” By synchronizing these textual echoes, Bates deliberately intersects the two textual streams, allowing them to converge with maximum emotional and structural impact.
While the orchestra mainly served as an accompaniment, underscoring the text, NSO musicians created a stunning sonorous display of harmonically rich progressions, transformations, and gestures. Picture opening a 425-degree oven with fresh cinnamon rolls inside—just a crack releases a swath of heat. Your nose strains against the dense air, filled with melted butter, caramelized sugar, and cinnamon spice (Mmmm). Sonically, the same rich texture poured from the stage, enveloping the hall in a thick, almost-cinematic symphonic texture. Bates’s orchestral writing is mostly chordal and gestural, with electronic timbres placed strategically. He uses smart and unexpected imitative figures which reflect the singer’s line. These musical echoes appear unexpectedly and intermittently, making every exchange between ensemble and soloist surprising and clever.
Finally, I would be remiss not mentioning the evening’s singer soloist. Mezzo-soprano Fleur Barron gave a flawless performance. Barron won a GRAMMY for Best Opera Recording for her title role in Kaija Saariaho’s (1952–2023) Adriana Mater, performed with the San Francisco Symphony under Esa-Pekka Salonen. While her achievements are numerous, the program note highlights that “Mahler’s music is a major backbone of Fleur’s artistic identity, in particular the [song] cycles Das Lied von der Erde and Kindertotenlieder….”[3] This context illuminates why her performance of Passages was so powerful, as these works demand nearly all onus from the singer. Fleur Barron’s artistry was evident throughout—a beautiful performance.
The final piece of the program, the pantomime The Miraculous Mandarin, has a fascinating compositional history. Béla Bartók, a dedicated ethnomusicologist, traveled widely through Slovakia and Transylvania—regions now known as the Czech Republic and Romania—until the Austro-Hungarian Empire split in 1918–1919. Around this time, Bartók composed the first draft of Mandarin. Due to the cumulative hardships of World War I, including his family’s battle with the Spanish Flu, they moved to Budapest for care and stability. In the capital, Bartók then came under scrutiny from Miklós Horthy’s new right-wing government. Because of his fieldwork, authorities accused him of being a Romanian nationalist, a dangerous label in Hungary then. As a result, Bartók avoided public attention and put The Miraculous Mandarin on hold. He later orchestrated the piece in 1924, and it premiered in Cologne, Germany in 1926. Budapest did not stage Mandarin until after Bartók’s death in 1945.[4]
The storyline Bartók follows through musical pantomime was written by author, and eventual screenwriter, Menyhért Lengyel (1880–1974). Set in a bleak urban environment, Mandarin is a violent and grotesque story of exploitation, desire, and transcendence. The story: three drifters force a young girl to act as a decoy, luring men into their room before robbing them. The first victim is a broke playboy type who the thugs soon dismiss since he has no money. The second, another who lacks funds, is similarly expelled. Finally, a wealthy Chinese imperial bureaucrat (the Mandarin) appears, and unlike the previous men, he remains silent and mysterious. The girl lures the newcomer, performing a seductive dance, and he only stares at her, transfixed with resolute desire. When she eventually falls into his arms, she is overcome with fear and tries to run, leading to a frantic chase around the room. The drifters finally ambush the Mandarin to kill him and take his money. They try to suffocate him, stab him, and even hang him, but he does not die. In a terrifying, supernatural turn, his body begins to glow, and he continues to stare at the girl. The Mandarin’s sheer obsession and unfulfilled longing are a powerful force, keeping him alive despite his fatal injuries. Only when the woman realizes that he cannot die until his desire is met does she embrace him willingly. Once she finally holds him and his desire is satisfied, his supernatural strength leaves, his wounds bleed, and he finally dies.[5]
The NSO musicians performed Mandarin exquisitely. I had the opportunity to perform this piece, and I can attest to how difficult it is to play. Mandarin marks the height of Bartók’s expressionist period, so not only are each individual player’s parts difficult to precisely execute, but fitting this piece together is another level of difficulty. Guerrero had his work cut out for him, leading the orchestra through all of its awkward hinges. The ensemble proficiently maneuvered through the series of difficult themes, namely the Mandarin Theme, which is atonal, employing twelve-tone technique, dissolving any sense of tonal center for performers and listeners alike.
The score’s chaotic textures feature a series of soloists. Their unique timbres differentiate the characters, driving the narrative. The solo clarinet (Danny Goldman) represents the girl acting as a decoy. She performs three seductive, virtuosic solos to lure each passerby. These solos eventually gain reinforcement from a second clarinet (Katherine Kohler). The two “broke” victims are identified by English horn (Kate Bruns) lines joined by the oboe (Christopher Gaudi). In contrast, a solo bassoon (Asha Kline) marks the Mandarin’s dark, threatening presence.
Also, the trombones (Paul Jenkins & Anthony Cosio-Marron) provide the sonic weight of an imposing physical force through several interlocking glissandi sections. Meanwhile, the trumpets break through the frantic high-string textures with harsh, aggressive attacks and jagged rhythmic flourishes, evoking a clear sense of hysteria. It is also worth noting the unconventional use of the lower strings and brass. The violas move beyond simple harmony, playing much more exposed parts. The tuba and bass trombone are given more intricate, independent, and gestural solos that sonically highlight the grit of the piece’s urban narrative setting.
The NSO has only a few more events left for the season: Beethoven’s Eroica Symphony, May 15 & 16, 2026; The Brightness of Light w/ singer Renée Fleming, May 20, 2026, and How to Train Your Dragon in Concert, May 22–14, 2026. Be sure to view their YouTube video introducing the 2026–27 and the joining of the NSO new Music Director, Leonard Slatkin: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YGW3XRYcieo. Keep updated by visiting their website: https://www.nashvillesymphony.org
[1] Richard Taruskin, Defining Russia Musically: Historical and Hermeneutical Essays (Princeton University Press, 1997).
[2] Found reference to Passage: for Mezzo Soprano, Orchestra, and Electronics in: The Trump Kennedy Center, “Mason Bates on “Passage’,” YouTube video, 3:35, May 9, 2017, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WL2tEVN2B-A, accessed May 9, 2026.
[3] NSO Program note.
[4] László Vikárius, “Transfigurations of The Miraculous Mandarin: The Significance of Genre in the Genesis of Bartók’s Pantomime,” Studio Musicologica, 60, no. 1–4 (October 21, 2020): 23–68, https://doi.org/10.1556/6.2019.00003.
[5] Ibid., 31, 36, 39, 53–54, 56.
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A Georgia native, Stephen D. Turner moved to Nashville in 2023 with his partner of over thirteen years. When he isn’t hiking in the woods or enjoying the ocean, Stephen is a musicologist and tubist who teaches music at Tennessee State University.
