Living minimalist legend Steve Reich recently premiered his new exuberant piece “Jacob’s Ladder” with the New York Philharmonic, proving that age has only sharpened his creative prowess
The celebrated composer and ensemble receiving a standing ovation for “Jacob’s Ladder”
What do Schubert and Beethoven have in common? Easy: they were both Viennese, alive at the same time, and marked the transition from Classical to Romantic music. Now, what does contemporary, minimalist composer Steve Reich have in common with them? It’s this question that the New York Philharmonic set out to answer in their 2023-24 Season Opening Concerts with the world premiere of Reich’s electrifying Jacob’s Ladder. Sandwiched between Beethoven’s Emperor Piano Concerto—featuring 8-time Grammy nominated Leif Ove Adnsnes as soloist—and Schubert’s Unfinished symphony, the programming seemed like an eclectic mix. But even with that being the case, it was an excellent showcase of minimalism now, where it’s headed, and how it squeezes inbetween the greats.
Despite the repertoire’s implications, a Steve Reich premier, surely, needs no introduction and has no trouble standing on its own. A Manhattan-based Cornell alum, Steve Reich pioneered minimalism in the New York downtown scene along with Philip Glass in the 1960s by using delicately constructed counterpoints and experimental techniques like audio phasing—looping multiple audio tapes together and letting them fall out of time from one another. These repeating phrases, slow harmonic rhythms, and abstract methods have now been met with universal acclaim but were originally so polarizing they caused a riot at Reich’s debut Carnegie Hall performance of his intentionally perturbing Four Organs. Ironically, it was exactly this uproar that launched Reich onto his pioneering path. Now flourishing, as the New York Times dubbed it, in his ‘late period,’ the 87-year-old Reich has arguably shaped the course of music history. His works span from sparse, delicate, rhythmic labyrinths to deeply contemplative religious melodies, typically host to Reichian pulsating 8th notes. It’s the latter style of his portfolio that Reich expands on for his new piece Jacob’s Ladder, which is also a revival of his signature style, as his latest work Traveler’s Prayer (2020) was marked by a medieval absence of that Reichian pulse.
Typical for Reich, Jacob’s Ladder is set against a Biblical verse, Genesis 28:12, which describes a dream Jacob has of a stairway that stretches from the earth to the heavens with angels of God ascending and descending on it. Also typical for Reich, the piece is scored for a small ensemble, with wind, string, and percussion performances from the NY Philharmonic and vocal deliveries from Synergy Vocals who’ve premiered three of Reich’s past pieces.
Jacob’s Ladder began with a quick and bright 16th note pulse from the viola, echoed by the vibraphone who played with the figure as the flute and strings dotted and arpeggiated a portrait of the bright stepwise imagery Reich conjured. As the cellos and violin suspended the piece with warmth, coolly delivered arpeggios from the vibraphone, strings, and flute launched it into a new chord, bouncing the pulse between string instruments and landing it in the vibraphone yet again. The tenor voice then brushed into the stoic amber color that the clarinet and vibraphone evoked to deliver the piece’s first wordless lines. “Va yachalohm”—and he dreamed.
Unlike its predecessors, Jacob’s Ladder doesn’t rely on voices to generate melodic texture. Rather, Reich composed with the “notes as messengers,” where the meaning of these messengers is slightly ambiguous (the Hebrew word also means angels, according to program notes). Reich’s first foray into this religiously propelled style of music with Tehillim was a grand interweaving of vocal and rhythmic counterpoints set against inconsistent time signatures. Because of this, Jacob’s Ladder is much lighter, instrumental, and sparse than one might expect. This is to its benefit: it’s easily likeable, partially because of its lack of gravitas.
It does have its pronounced moments though. Tenor and soprano entrances were invitingly ethereal, with those at the halfway point of the piece lifting the entire ensemble up to new figurative and literal heights. In the third part of the piece, deep piano and celli lines perforated the mix as the rest of the ensemble climbed upwards. As the piece ended, however, the vibraphone’s pulse slowed to half of its original speed; the stairway sounded almost out of reach at this point, as a series of descending arpeggios were repeated. The ensemble finally landed on the crown of the chord and held it, immobilized. You could feel the imagery Reich was unfolding in the room. It was all-encompassing, a master at work. To that point, conductor Jaap van Zweden contributed deeply to this palpable imagery. Sharp shoulder-raises conjured clouds paired with soaring clarinet entrances, while sweeping panoramic gestures italicized the piano’s gripping pedal tones, matching an angel’s assured descent down Jacob’s ladder. 20 minutes felt like 20 seconds. Reich’s touch has lost none of its charm, even in the face of minimalism’s, at times, intentionally monotonous character. Jacob’s Ladder was enchantingly fresh.
Though the rest of the program wasn’t quite as forward-thinking as Jacob’s Ladder, Adnsnes’ performance of Emperor was surprisingly delicate. Piano runs in the first movement were delicately smooth and elevated by the orchestra’s intensely supportive pianos. They blended with such intensity I was genuinely shocked—maybe it’s the amateur in me speaking, but I sincerely haven’t heard an orchestra play with such deliberate listening live. Emperor ended with a roaring applause from the audience, to which Adnsnes left them with a short but gorgeously meditative encore that echoed in my mind for hours.
The New York Philharmonic continued to deliver with Unfinished. Horn lines bounced out of the orchestra with unmistakable tension, which were appropriately reeled back in by Zweden who took his time crafting a cathartic sound. Trumpet lines were supportive and blended beautifully, contributing to the warm and deeply brooding sound Unfinished lends itself to. Despite this, the trumpet player in me thirsted to hear the brass section led by the trumpets rather than the horns. Though some of this desire was quenched by the trumpet’s bright and emphatic forte with the timpani at the height of the first movement, I was left wanting more particularly in the second movement.
After the concert I was lucky enough to run into 2nd bassoonist Roger Nye who, when asked, eagerly stated that he loved minimalism and that Reich’s new piece was no exception. I would argue that the average classically oriented New Yorker would answer similarly, especially considering that minimalism is one of the few meaningful forms of classical music to emerge from New York’s downtown scene. As a cultural hub for this niche genre, perhaps the theme of the concert wasn’t to simply compare Reich’s work to the greats. Rather, it was to celebrate New York’s role in fostering this unique musical tradition alongside Vienna’s.
