Musical prodigy Jay Greenberg is only 15, and this is already his Fifth Symphony. It’s not a great work by any means; none of history’s most noteworthy young geniuses produced anything much of worth before age 18 or 19–not Mozart, Schubert, Mendelssohn, Shostakovich, Enescu, or Saint-Saëns. The one exception probably was Korngold, who seems to have been born with his mature style almost entirely intact. Also, Enescu’s Study Symphony No. 4, composed at age 16, is notably more advanced than Greenberg’s Fifth. So he has a good way to go, and if the following comments seem overtly critical, it’s only because the very existence of this disc asks that his achievement be viewed within this larger context, never mind the fact that there are dozens of contemporary composers out there writing music more accomplished than this. It is only Greenberg’s youth that has brought him notoriety, not to mention representation by IMG Artists and a major-label release. The “hook”, strictly speaking, has nothing to do with music at all.
Still, Greenberg asks to be taken seriously as a “classical” composer, and so it’s only fair to see how he stacks up. That he has an astonishing gift is beyond question, but the ability to acquire a knack, in this case for writing music, is not in itself a sign of genius. What matters is what the composer uses his talent to express, and I don’t think any 15-year-old has enough life experience under his belt to offer much depth in this respect. This doesn’t mean the music isn’t sincere, but it is derivative and also formulaic in the sense that there is a genuine incompatibility between form and content that hopefully will vanish with practice. Take the first movement of the Fifth Symphony. The opening idea holds a great deal of promise: a lopsided waltz of curiously glum demeanor. But there’s absolutely no inherent reason why it has to be the first subject of a movement in sonata form. The idea is memorable as initially presented, not for what Greenberg does with it by way of development.
The more lyrical second subject, on solo oboe initially, sees Greenberg adopting a sort of generic, “film score modal” melodic style that pops up regularly whenever he needs a tune. You will find similar writing in the symphony’s finale and the first movement of the Quintet. Greenberg begins the development section with a very academic-sounding fugato, a truly tired device formerly a specialty of the Russian school (Tchaikovsky’s Sixth, Rachmaninov’s First, etc.). There’s another, similar moment in the slow movement, and it sounds singularly out of place. In short, Greenberg’s style lacks integrity. Counterpoint interrupts homophony rather than arising organically from the material at hand; form is treated as a preexisting vessel into which themes of varying kinds can be arranged, willy-nilly.
The scherzo consists of a sort of generic “scherzo music”, bustling but lacking thematic interest. The slow movement features a very arresting chorale over pizzicato strings, but this alternates with purely coloristic and gestural episodes in a very different, unrelated style. The finale owes a lot to the closing movement of Bartók’s Concerto for Orchestra–that of the Quintet is correspondingly indebted to the Hungarian composer’s Fourth Quartet–before rising to a bombastic and crudely-scored climax. This is a pity, particularly as Greenberg’s darkish mean sonority and preference for lower strings (the viola in particular) suggest more interesting, less conventionally triumphant possibilities for the ending.
To a certain extent, contemporary aesthetics count against Greenberg. Mozart, for example, was fortunate in that not only was his youthful musical language part of a larger “common practice” vocabulary of melodic and formal archetypes, but the nature of that language was primarily comedic. He didn’t have to worry about being serious, or grandiose. It was enough to be merely entertaining; meaningfulness came later. So it’s not really Greenberg’s fault if what he can comfortably express at this point stands somewhat at odds with his means of expression. He’s a kid armed with the stylistic equivalent of a nuclear weapon when he should be using a cap pistol. You can hear this most clearly in the orchestration, which lacks variety while straining for effect. In particular, Greenberg surely will learn how to handle the winds more imaginatively, and hopefully will find a less tacky role for the percussion (suspended cymbals are overused, and the predictable tam-tam reinforced climaxes sound routine).
To this extent, the String Quintet (with two cellos) is more successful because the medium inherently limits the kind of rhetorical excess that the resources of the modern orchestra encourage. Greenberg’s treatment of form here is also more imaginative regarding the arrangement of movements. The piece has the same shape as many early Haydn chamber works, Beethoven’s “Moonlight” Sonata, or Shostakovich’s Sixth Symphony: a long slow movement followed by two shorter quick ones. These latter two movements could be more effectively contrasted, and as noted above the piece is not any better integrated stylistically than is the symphony; but the smaller scale minimizes the discontinuities, and the music’s concision and amiability make it both immediately appealing and perhaps a better testament to Greenberg’s astonishing compositional facility.
Finally, in his booklet notes, Greenberg thanks his brother for teaching him “the true value of silence.” Evidently he still has a bit to learn in this vein. He describes his Fifth Symphony as “a counter-stereotypical work combining a Romantic melodic sweep with the methodical mathematical thinking of the serialists.” Spoken like a true 15-year-old, that. Or how about this: “There are dozens of quintets with two violas, but in all the literature I found only one other with two cellos, the great Schubert Quintet.” Evidently Greenberg didn’t look very hard. In today’s world of hype and PR, the temptation to talk is all but overwhelming, but well worth resisting–or the result, as here, is likely to become embarrassing. The performances, by the way, are all excellent. José Serebrier is an ideal conductor for new repertoire like this, and the LSO is an equally adept orchestra–and it almost goes without saying that the Juilliard Quartet offers playing of the highest standard. Greenberg is lucky indeed to have them.
I said at the beginning of this review that I would be critical, and I have been, not because I don’t think you should hear this disc (on the contrary), but because I think it’s important that we understand where Greenberg is in his development as a composer. He shows tremendous promise, and if Sony sticks with him we may indeed be privileged to witness the flowing of a new musical genius. So by all means, take this opportunity to listen and judge for yourself. I think that he’s better served in being held to the highest standards, with no apologies, as opposed to gaping at him like some kind of circus freak and pointing, slack-jawed, while exclaiming: “Wow! Look at that!” The capacity to adapt and grow, creating a distinctive and coherent personal style in the process, will be the true test of Greenberg’s mettle.
