This week, the Dallas Symphony Orchestra premieres a new cello concerto by composer-in-residence Christopher Theofanidis. A Dallas native, he holds a veritable bouquet of degrees from Yale, Eastman School of Music and the University of Houston, the number of which is only rivaled by the list of his awards and honors: the Rome Prize, a Guggenheim, the International Masterpiece Prize, six ASCAP awards, a Fulbright and an assortment of other musical trophies.
His "Rainbow Body" has the distinction of being the most preformed new orchestral work in the last 10 years—more than 70 performances by orchestras around the world. This is the work that won the International Masterpiece prize, which has the added distinction of giving the audience half of the votes for the winning composition. He is on the faculty of the Peabody Conservatory.
The new work, titled Concerto for Violincello and Chamber Orchestra, was commissioned by cellist Nina Kotova, who will perform it with the DSO. She held a mini-competition, of sorts, by asking a number of composers to submit works if they wanted to be considered for a commission. Theofanidis was one of three chosen. Hers is a laudable effort because the cello lacks the wide range of repertoire enjoyed by the violin, although it scarcely rivals the paucity of similar works for the poor viola. In fact, concerti for instruments other than the violin and piano are in short supply in general.
While there isn’t a blow-by-blow program to the work, there is a sort-of story behind some of the music. Thus, it neatly fits in with the other work on the program, the Mahler Symphony No. 1.
"The concept for this work grew from the sound of the instrument itself: Dark, brooding and serious with an inherent gravitas,” Theofanidis said in an interview with TheaterJones. "The first movement is atmospheric, with windy textures and shimmery musical effects.”
The second movement, in a very Mahler-esque manner, has a more pointed story line. “The cello is asking a question of the universe but not getting an answer,” he said, "and the cello gets more and more animated as no response is forthcoming." He called the last movement a "barnburner" and full of “wild energy.” (Few concerti end otherwise.)
Kotova proved to be a helpful collaborator, he added. More than 200 hundred emails flew back and forth between composer and cellist over the course of the composition. All this bodes well for the piece.
Dallas audiences have already heard his big hit, "Rainbow Body," with its surprising cheers of ecstasy at the big moments from all of the players without something in their mouths. According to the composer, this most striking effect was serendipitous. Apparently, the London Symphony, who played the work for the International Masterpiece Competition, has a habit of moaning and cheering in moments of high musical drama in rehearsals, but they are "just having a good time," Theofanidis said. When this happened spontaneously in the rehearsal of "Rainbow Body," Theofanidis was a bit taken aback at first. However, upon some further reflection, he thought that it enhanced the piece and subsequently added it to the score (as an option, a hat tip to more tightly corseted orchestras that the London Symphony).
Vocalizations by orchestral players are nothing new. Works as diverse as Tan Dun’s opera The First Emperor and Jon Deak's concerto for string bass, "Jack and the Beanstalk," ask for vocal sounds and even spoken lines such as "Sell the cow, Jack." Players generally hate it because it is awkward for them, but the effect in "Rainbow Body" is magical. This reviewer heard the prize-winning performance over the radio and was absolutely mesmerized. At the time, I supposed that the sounds were made by the symphony chorus—an expensive import just to cheer at the fortissimos—never imagining that it was the players doing it. This discovery, that it was the usually fuddy-duddy strings themselves that reacted so sensually to the music, makes it even more amazing an effect.
By recent traditions, classical music audiences are not supposed to even unwrap a throat lozenge, let alone cheer at a spectacular crescendo, so I do not expect either audience or orchestra to completely lose control during the premiere. But, it should something worth shouting about.
Perhaps afterwards, we can cut loose. 
