Month: April 2011

Tudor Consort – Prophetic excellence at Lower Hutt

Posted on by Peter Mechen

Settings to music of prophetic writings throughout the ages

Music by Hildegard von Bingen, Orlando de Lassus, William Byrd, Gustav Holst, Alonso Lobo, Michael Praetorius, Alban Berg, Heinrich Schutz

The Tudor Consort, directed by Michael Stewart (Presented by Chamber Music Hutt Valley)

St.James Church, Lower Hutt

Wednesday, 6th April, 2011

What an inspired idea for a concert! – fascinating to collect together a broad chronological range of composers’ responses to prophetic texts to register any commonalities and enjoy the differences. Not surprisingly, these factors were the two most readily prominent features of the concert, namely the power of the texts to elicit a heartfelt response from every composer, and the sharply varied flavour of each individual setting. The result was an evening replete with strongly heartfelt utterances, expressed with a variety of musical styles and modes – in other words, a “best of both worlds” occasion.

The concert couldn’t have begun more appropriately and strikingly than with Erin King’s beautiful singing of music by the twelfth-century composer, poet, visionary and abbess Hildegarde of Bingen. The otherwise excellent program note didn’t directly indicate that the text of the antiphon O pastor animarum was Hildegarde’s own, though it’s very likely part of her renowned “Symphonia armonie celestial revelationum”, her own collection of poetry and music which she assembled and herself enriched throughout her life.

But the work around which most of the concert’s program was constructed was Orlando de Lassus’s Prophetiae Sibyllarum, a visionary outpouring of highly personalized responses to texts that transported his creative sensibilities towards extraordinary flights of fancy. The texts, attributed to various mystic seers, were largely appropriated from antiquity by the early Christian Church, though it’s thought that Lassus himself wrote the words of the Prologue. The various settings were performed by the Consort in groups of two and three, and interspersed throughout the concert, creating interesting juxtapositionings with the work of twentieth-century composers such as Holst and Berg. Although these composers and others featured in the concert used texts from different sources, the shared intensities of both music and performance fused the varieties of eras and styles into what I felt to be a deeply satisfying whole.

Lassus’s settings featured a kind of chromatic restlessness in places, which, allied to marked flexibility of rhythm and pulse, readily created sound-worlds whose mystical realms seemed somewhat removed from ordinary experience, the texts truly sounding as if from remote times and places. I was reminded in places of Italian madrigals and their volatility of utterance, making for unexpected shifts of harmony, colour and rhythm by way of bringing the texts to life. Michael Stewart, director of the Consort, had introduced the composer and the music, characterizing Lassus’s work as “wonderfully weird” – and the group brought out the music’s varied intensities throughout each of the three groups of Prophetiae before the interval, with beautifully-judged gradations of sound and finely-honed intonation. In the Sybilla Europaea’s Virginis aeternum from the first group of Prophetiae after the resumption I thought the bass lines less well integrated with the whole – the rest soared and whispered across a stunningly varied sound-spectrum, the startling modulations and spooky “sotto voce” ambiences of the piece utterly spell-binding. And again, in the following Verax ipse Deus of the Sybilla Tyburtina the men’s voices again sounded to my ears a shade too nasal in effect, compared with the rest of the choir.

Amends were made with the beautifully-turned final group of Lassus’s Prophetiae, the two settings rather more conventional in effect, I thought, apart from occasional modulations which, though unexpected, we had by now come to expect! As a whole, the work was a perfect foil for the rest, William Byrd’s beautiful Ecce Virgo concipiet seeming like balm to our senses, coming as it did in the midst of all of Lassus’s convoluted chromaticisms. Holst’s Nunc Dimittis, too, seemed more “anchored” harmonically, though the overlapping eight-part opening created a frisson of expectation which built unerringly towards a real cathedral-style apotheosis at the final Gloria. And the Spanish composer Alonso Lobo’s Ave Maria had a gloriously rolling-sound kind of perpetual-motion character (the double choir creating something of an inexhaustible voices effect), all beautifully delivered.

In the second half of the concert we were able to enjoy contrasting settings (separated by three hundred years) of the German Advent Carol Es ist ein Ros’ entsprungen, by Michael Praetorius and Alban Berg, the latter here eschewing his Second Viennese School associations for a more late-Romantic tonal setting. Praetorius’s essentially simple, straight-to-the-heart treatment of the words admirably set off Berg’s more extended and somewhat tortured, though still achingly beautiful setting. Concluding what I thought was an evening’s glorious singing was the Teutsch Magnificat of

Heinrich Schütz, set for double choir, and featuring at the outset richly-wrought antiphonal exchanges between the two groups. The composer cleverly varied the word-pointing in places, telescoping the word-pointing and creating a kind of word-excitement which bubbled out of and over the edges of the music – “singing for the joy of singing” was the phrase that came to my mind as I Iistened, caught up in the exuberance and beauty of it all – marvellous!

Voice students of NZSM in excellent recital at St Andrew’s

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

New Zealand School of Music – Voice students, accompanied by Mark Dorrell

Emily Simcox, Angelique Macdonald, Simon Harnden, Isabella Moore, Thomas Barker, Amelia Ryman, Thomas O’Brien

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday 6 April, 12.15pm

Second and third year voice students at the New Zealand School of Music, tutored by Richard Greager, Margaret Medlyn, Jenny Wollerman and Emily Mair, gave a varied and excellent demonstration of both their own talents and the quality of their teaching.

The recital was interestingly planned, starting with four arias from Mozart operas. The first two were from The Marriage of Figaro: Emily Simcox opened with ‘Voi che sapete’, an attractive, guileless performance, her voice displaying quite a ring, and a polished legato style; another soubrette role from Figaro – Barbarina’s ‘L’ho perduta, me meschina’, quite short but quite charming.

Bass Simon Harnden sang Sarastro’s aria, ‘O Isis und Osiris’. He has a naturally attractive low voice though at this stage his voice seems invested with little colour and his German pronunciation was iffy.

Then Isabella Moore finished the Mozart group with Fiordiligi’s ‘Come scoglio’ from Così fan tutte; she too will learn how to colour her singing more interestingly, but her strong voice projected well, her breath control was good and she handled the large intervals skillfully.

Then came two arias that show how interest in exploring neglected areas of the opera repertoire has grown in recent years; arias from Ambroise Thomas’s best-known operas, Hamlet and Mignon, were chosen by the next two singers. Thomas Barker, baritone, sang Hamlet’s (non-Shakespearean) apostrophe to wine, ‘O vin, dissipe la tristesse’, offering appropriate gestures, and singing with an attractive swagger. From Mignon, Emily Simcox sang the gavotte (which used to be found in most piano albums) that Thomas wrote when a contralto sang Frédéric as a trouser role: ‘Me voici dans son boudoir’. Speaking of which, Mark Dorrell’s piano accompaniments, in this, and throughout, were admirable in their lively and dramatic support.

The programme then passed to the next generation of French opera composers – to Massenet. Amelia Ryman, as Manon, sang quite movingly the sentimental farewell to the little table where she and Des Grieux have lived; we are beguiled by her charming fickleness.

A less familiar opera is Hérodiade – the story of Salome, though her aria ‘Il est doux, il est bon’ is familiar. It depicts Salome very differently from the Oscar Wilde-Strauss version of 25 years later: something approaching love between John the Baptist and Salome who tries to intercede and even seeks to be killed alongside John. Isabella Moore used her strong, sometimes rather too big, voice to great effect.

Thomas O’Brien’s voice is soft and he sang Fauré’s ‘Après un rêve’ with nicely controlled dynamics and expressive gestures.

There followed two German pieces: Angelique Macdonald returned to sing what is known as Marietta’s Lied from Korngold’s Die tote Stadt, with a voice of considerable delicacy and tonal purity. And Thomas Barker capped his fine performance of the Hamlet aria with the song to the Evening Star from Tannhäuser ; his tone is even, he knows how to control it without pushing to gain louder of higher notes. One of Elgar’s Sea Pictures was chosen by Emily Simcox – ‘In Haven’ – a moment of calm in the otherwise restless cycle; she captured it well with phrasing that was flowing and legato.

Three English songs, by Thomas Quilter, ended the programme. Amelia Ryman who had sung the Manon aria with such clarity, brought that care with diction to ‘Come away Death’ from Twelfth Night; Thomas O’Brien sang ‘Go, lovely Rose’ and then Shelley’s ‘Love’s Philosophy’; the first, restrained, delicate if not very strong, the second evincing the same sweetness of tone, and more liveliness.

The recital was not interrupted by singers’ commentaries on their pieces (each singer had written short notes in the programme) or pauses between each performance, and so audience interest was maintained very well; it was one of the most enjoyable student voice recitals I’ve heard in a long time.

A litany of Requiems from Nota Bene at St Mary of the Angels

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Herbert Howells: Requiem; Albinoni: Adagio; Schütz: Two choral pieces; Pearsall: ‘Lay a Garland’; Lukáš: Requiem Aeternam; Sam Piper: ‘Kyrie’; Jan Sandström: ‘Sanctus’; Barber: ‘Agnus Dei’; David Hamilton: Lux Aeterna; Fauré: ‘Pie Jesu’ from Requiem in D; Tavener: Song for Athene

Nota Bene Chamber Choir, conducted by Peter de Blois, with Lara Denby (soprano, in Fauré’s ‘Pie Jesu’) and Douglas Mews (organ, in Albinoni and Fauré)

St. Mary of the Angels Church, Boulcott Street

Sunday, 3 April, 2.30pm

In its seven years of existence, Nota Bene has found a particular spot in the large choral firmament that is Wellington: that of a mixed chamber choir with a wide and varied repertoire, singing in a variety of venues. It is marked by accuracy, finesse and elegance.

The sung works on this programme were all Requiems, movements from Requiems, or choral songs which speak of death. That is not to say that the music was entirely doleful or sombre in character.

Herbert Howells’s Requiem began the first half, followed by several other items. In the second half there were 7 movements: Requiem, ‘Kyrie’, ‘Sanctus’, ‘Agnus Dei’, ‘Lux Aeterna’, ‘Pie Jesu’, ‘Alleluia’, by a variety of composers. The major choral Requiems in the repertoire are not consistent as to the movements of which they are made up; the movements chosen for this concert made up a reasonable summary, although there was no ‘Libera Me’ movement. Perhaps the selection was most like that of Fauré in his Requiem of 1887.

While the printed programme gave the dates for some of the compositions, the dates for the composers were not given, which was a pity. With so many composers’ works being performed, it would have been interesting to compare the styles and settings from different periods.

The opening of the Howells, ‘O Saviour of the world’ was serene and lovely; it set the tone for the entire concert. Choral tone and blend could not be faulted. Unlike the case with many choirs, this choir has men’s voices as good and as reliable as the women’s.

This work featured soloists Gillian Bruce (soprano), Maaike Christie-Beekman (mezzo), Patrick Geddes and John Fraser (tenors) and Simon Christie (baritone), all of whom sang confidently and well. The last-named was familiar to Wellington audiences a number of years ago, as a student and after, singing solo, and performing particularly well in humorous operatic roles. I recall him as an amusing Papageno in a university production of Mozart’s Magic Flute.

The second movement of the Howells was Psalm 23. Here, there were strong and accurate unison passages interspersed with the part-setting.

‘Requiem aeternam’ (1) followed. It was peaceful and very beautiful. Next was Psalm 121 ‘I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills’. This featured Christie in a fine bass solo. There was glorious light and shade throughout the movement, from excellent phrasing and well-controlled dynamic variation.

The second ‘Requiem aeternam’ was intensely solemn. Notable was the good forte sound, in this sympathetic acoustic. The final movement was ‘I heard a voice from heaven’ (from the Book of Revelation). It was indeed a heavenly sound, yet with a mourning, wailing aspect to it.

The whole effect of the work was understated mourning, alternating with peace and comfort afforded by the words of Scripture. The music was certainly twentieth century, but gentle and contemplative, discords serving the purport of the words rather than being there for their own sake.

This work was followed by the famous Albinoni Adagio (not by him at all, but by his 20th-century biographer, Remo Giazotto, according to the programme note). It was appropriately solemn to go with the Requiems, given interesting registration and sensitively played by Douglas Mews, with more phrasing than one usually hears it given. But it is a pretty hackneyed piece to play in a concert like this. I imagine its purpose was to give the singers a rest.

Two German settings by Heinrich (the usual form of his name, though the ‘Henrich’ in the programme is another form) Schütz gave the choir an opportunity to sing baroque music in very good German. The quiet passages were exquisitely controlled, while the tone was rich for the most part, although in the second piece, ‘Selig sind die Toten’, the tenor tone was variable, and not always attractive.

On to the nineteenth century now, and Robert Lucas de Pearsall’s quite lovely ‘Lay a Garland’. This madrigal sets words of Shakespeare, and is a favourite of Professor Peter Godfrey, who was in the audience; the National Youth Choir have frequently sung it. (Both Peter de Blois and this choir’s founder, Christine Argyle, are former members, as doubtless are other choir members). Here, Simon Christie’s voice was a little too dominant in the basses. Otherwise, the performance was superb.

The second half commenced with ‘Requiem Aeternam’ by contemporary Czech composer Zdeněk Lukáš. Both this setting and the ‘Kyrie’ that followed were sung by the National Youth Choir on its visit overseas in 1999. The contrasting textures here gave drama and impact, as did the exceedingly quiet ending. The vertical chords employing tonic and dominant were interspersed with close harmonies, and unison passages for one part only. It all made for a most attractive and interesting choral work.

Sam Piper, a former member of the National Youth Choir, wrote his ‘Requiem Aeternam’ for that choir. Nota Bene gave a very satisfying performance of a skilled piece of writing. There was plenty of dynamic contrast, which gave variety to the repetition of musical figures.

‘Sanctus’ by Sandström featured movement from intervals of thirds to seconds, creating a strong effect, and was executed with precision and finesse. It was a short but impressive work.

The prospect of the warhorse that is Barber’s Adagio was mitigated by its being the choral version ‘Agnus Dei’. I have heard this sung in concert quite recently; nevertheless, this was a superb performance. The interweaving lines became quite mesmeric.

Probably New Zealand’s most prolific choral composer, David Hamilton’s work has a sure touch, and is always very effective. The Lux aeterna begins with humming in parts. This had a shimmering quality. After the words are sung, there is a whispered invocation of ‘Lux aeterna’ from the tenors to end.

Fauré’s evocative and well-known ‘Pie Jesu’ from his Requiem was sung by young 17-year-old Lara Denby with organ accompaniment. It was a very accomplished rendition. The voice had sufficient volume, and a lovely quality; vowels were beautifully formed. There was particularly warm and prolonged applause for this item, partly because the performance of the Howells at the start of the concert was dedicated to the memory of her father, who died in December, and was a member of the choir.

The final item, John Tavener’s Song for Athene, is a work of subtly changing harmonies from the upper parts, while the basses sustain a single vowel through most of the piece. There appeared to be additional words that were not printed; these were sufficiently clear to be heard without seeing them. The ethereal and contemplative qualities of the music were fully realised.

Beginning the previous evening, there are at least six choral concerts in a period of two weeks in and around Wellington – is that not too many for the local audiences to take in? Nevertheless, this excellent concert was well-attended and deservedly, warmly received.

Leading Hungarian pianist Endre Hegedűs celebrates Liszt bicentenary to benefit Christchurch

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Liszt Bicentennial 2011:  Au bord d’une source; Mephisto Waltz No 1; Sonetto di Patrarca; Les jeux d’eau à la villa d’Este; Hungarian Rhapsody No 14; Norma – réminiscences; Wolfram’s song to the Evening Star from Tannhäuser; Transcription of the Overture to Tannhäuser

Endre Hegedűs – piano. Sponsored by the Hungarian Embassy in Canberra and the Honorary Consul-General in Wellington, to mark the current Hungarian Presidency of the European Union.

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Friday 1 April, 7pm

The tour of New Zealand by this established Hungarian pianist had been organized some time before the February earthquake in Christchurch, but when the pianist heard about its devastation, he generously decided to give all proceeds from his five New Zealand concerts to help the victims.

I had not heard of Hegedűs, but that is no reason to imagine that he has little to offer.

I did not respond to all his playing but there was more than enough that I found interesting, perceptive and moving, and almost all showing arresting bravura and accuracy. In fact, though not among the top twenty perhaps, his international reputation is clearly thoroughly established.

The recital began with Au bord d’une source, from the First year – Switzerland – of the Years of Pilgrimage, uttered with splashy runs in scintillating tempi that shifted and slackened poetically towards the ends of phrases; the impression was of great clarity. Liszt is almost the last composer about whom it is safe or sensible to attempt to lay down standards or to claim to have a definitive interpretation in one’s head, and this piece introduced me to a lot that was individual and which only rarely sounded routine rather than the result of an individual conception.

The first Mephisto Waltz is one of Liszt’s most remarkable pieces: feverish, demonic, erotic and in the hands of a master, very exciting; and that was how this performance emerged. The three Petrarch sonnets are drawn from songs which are among Liszt’s loveliest and which are coming to be heard as important in the canon of romantic lieder, or in this case, quite closely related to the French art-song or mélodie. The piano version is gloriously rhapsodic and I’m sure there are those who seriously doubt that all the heated romantic passion is good for one’s moral health. So far I have maintained good health through a life-time of exposure to such pestilences. I enjoyed this performance immensely.

The fountains at the Villa d’Este which I recall seeing before being acquainted with Liszt’s guide-book entry, are beautifully portrayed in this piece from the Third year, Italy, of Years of Pilgrimage. It is possible to hear this as a succession of impressionistic scales and decorated arpeggios that evades the need for conventional musical substance; but bear in mind that the essence of bel canto, of which Norma is a great example, is its use of such ornamentation to express emotion. It makes its impact in much the same way as did the confessed French impressionists fifty years later. Again, water, whether flowing, churning, jetted or as storm-tossed seas, are among the most often used and evocative inspirations of the romantic imagination in all the arts, and Hegedüs was not wrong in his generous application of effects that created vivid visual impressions, working openly on the emotions.

The first half ended with the flamboyant 14th Hungarian Rhapsody. It has other manifestations, as Hungarian Rhapsody No 1 for orchestra (which, coincidentally, you’d have heard the next morning, about 9am Saturday, on RNZ Concert), and a later version for piano duet (also No 1 in that series) and for piano and orchestra, called the Hungarian Fantasia).

Hegedűs worked through its ever-changing moods, pushing them often to their limits, starting with quite formidable weight on the opening chords, then investing the big first theme with a quite individual rhythm, and taking quite open delight in what have come to be the despised ‘gypsy’ tunes as distinct from the ‘true Hungarian’ melodies that Bartok sought out and recorded later. The performance gathered itself up with increasing flamboyance and reckless disregard for the hard acoustic of the church and the survival of the piano; so that it increased in speed and loudness in a way that may well have driven off some who could hear it only as brazen exhibitionism.

The second half was devoted to transcriptions and reminiscences from opera. The first rode luxuriantly on the long, and richly lyrical lines of Bellini’s tunes in Norma. Its first impact was to draw attention to Bellini’s genius in that sphere; Liszt’s generosity of spirit towards other composers and musicians was constant throughout his life. While his transcriptions of operas and symphonic works were indeed vehicles for his own playing, they were just as much to honour and to popularize the operas themselves. Not that Norma needed any promotion in the early 1840s after its enormous success on the stage in 1831. The Norma reminiscences nevertheless, run the risk of smothering the rich melodies with needless embellishment and becoming something rather different.

In seeking background about Hegedűs, I came across an entry in Wikipedia that revealed his name among those whose recordings had been misappropriated in the Joyce Hatto scam a few years ago and which was exposed shortly after her death in 2006. Many of the alleged Hatto recordings appear in a fascinating list together with the apparent sources of each recorded performance. Several of Hegedűs’s are there, including opera transcriptions. Many of the Hatto forgeries were in fact performances by distinguished pianists like Ashkenazy, Hamelin, Bronfman, Marshev, Collard, Ingrid Haebler …. Hegedűs was in good company.

I have not found reviews of the ‘Hatto’ recordings traced to Hegedűs, but it would be interesting to see how critics heard them. The Norma reminiscences are not in the list.

There followed the transcriptions of Wolfram’s aria ‘O du mein lieber Abendstern’ and the overture from Tannhäuser. The Evening Star was poetically played with quiet chords though Liszt found it hard to bring it to a restrained conclusion. The overture soon succumbed to the temptation to grandiloquence and flamboyant rhetoric, somewhat unrelenting, and I had to confess to being rather overwhelmed by playing that became simply too reckless and loud, though never careless. It may have worked in a large auditorium well upholstered with a couple of thousand people; hardly in this space.

Hegedűs introduced each piece in words that were often difficult to catch but there was enough to reveal an engaging personality with a nice sense of humour; a pervasive love of his instrument and of Liszt’s music.

In all, Hegedűs’s brought to Liszt’s music an authentic romantic spirit that was poetic, as well as capable of grandeur and excess; and the chance to hear some of the rarely played opera transcriptions was a real bonus.