A lot of little misses at Davies Hall may yet make a hit Building a large concert hall is one of the grand gambles a city can make. The
latest to try its luck is San Francisco, which opened Louise M. Davies
Symphony Hall last week. Mostly the bet looks sound. Until now any big
performing arts group—the local symphony, opera and ballet—had to use
the War Memorial Opera House. They all played foreshortened seasons
and, except for the San Francisco Opera, suffered artistically. Also,
with few remaining open dates, major touring attractions often just
stayed away. Now the city will surely become a main stop on the culture
circuit. No gamble in any of this. The $27.5 million bet is whether the new hall,
the home of the San Francisco Symphony, will have good acoustics. The
curved concrete and glass exterior gives an impression of lightness.
Inside it is the model of a modern hall. Bulky chunks protrude from the
walls in surprising places; neat rows of little mounds trim the loges
and balconies. From the ceiling hang adjustable panels, and above the
stage are 24 clear acrylic sound-reflector disks. From many locations
the audience can see the orchestra mirrored in them. As an image it is
not bad, for halls like the Davies are really a kind of musical
instrument constructed and tuned by acousticians. Although they can
improve or “tune” their work to a degree, acousticians are among the
high rollers of science. Will the hall that rises from the blueprint
and equations have satisfying sound? On opening night the answer was no. Dozens of critics and musicians
disputed the long reverberation time, the strident brass, the puddles
of aural mud. Too much depended on one's location in the auditorium.
The bass was usually too strong. In
general the sound seems too bright and unfocused. That, however, is
better than starting out with a dead hall. Early in the evening came the world premiere of David Del Tredici's
Happy Voices. The composer may have intended a bravura show for the
orchestra, but his garish, repetitive work was more like a Richard
Strauss waltz heard in a nightmare. When Mendelssohn's Piano Concerto
No.1, with Rudolf Serkin as soloist, followed, the listener was
prepared for old-fashioned piano busting. Instead, the instrument could
scarcely be heard except in solo passages and in a lyrical dialogue
between the cellos and the piano. The finale, Beethoven's Symphony No. 5, was most successful aurally. For
Conductor Edo de Waart, 39, and his players, it was also the best
interpretation of an understandably ragged evening. De Waart took time
off to study cassettes of 35 of the programs he has conducted with the
San Francisco. He was not happy. Says he: “The music sounded
like a rehearsal. In preparation you listen and correct, but you
must shut all that off in performance. Furtwngler and Walter made a
lot of mistakes, but what does it matter? Precision is an illness of our time.”
