Day: 7 August 2011

Delightful violin sonatas end Mulled Wine series at Paekakariki

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Mulled Wine Concerts
Violin and piano: Sonatas by Lilburn (in B minor played by Donald Armstrong and Mary Gow); Beethoven (in F, Op 24 ‘Spring’) and Fauré (in A, Op 13), both played by Donald Armstrong and Sarah Watkins

Paekakariki Memorial Hall

Sunday 7 August, 2.30pm

The last concert in this delightful beach-side concert series saw the unusual phenomenon of impresario turning pianist: Mary Gow. She had contributed as pianist to these concerts before but I had not heard them, and this audience was reminded again of her as a very fine pianist, playing Douglas Lilburn’s 1950 violin sonata with NZSO associate concert master Donald Armstrong.

The day was calm and sunny as we drove to Paekakariki, though the sea, at high water, was very rough. The concert began with sun pouring into the hall through the west windows, Kapiti Island floating out there. About an hour later eyes were drawn to the windows as they rattled and the sky suddenly darkened, and soon the sound of rain joined the sounds of violin and piano like brushes on a side drum.

Lilburn actually wrote three violin sonatas. In February 1943, he wrote one in E flat and later in the year, as a result of his association with Maurice Clare, who had been conductor of the Broadcasting Service String Orchestra, he composed another, in C, which was performed in December that year.

This was actually the second airing in two months of the third sonata, in B minor; it was played by Martin Riseley and Jian Liu at a St Andrew’s concert on 10 June marking the tenth anniversary of Lilburn’s death.

It was written in 1950, after Lilburn had become a lecturer at Victoria University College, for Frederick Page (pianist and head of the music department) and violinist Ruth Pearl; they premiered it at the university and then played it again three months later in Wigmore Hall in London.

This confident and resolute performance by Donald Armstrong and Mary Gow, alongside two famous and well-loved sonatas, revealed a mature work that seemed to have absorbed the character of European music of the time, tonal though with momentary dissident splashes. Cast in one movement, though with five distinct sections, it strikes me as interestingly different from the Lilburn who strives for an indigenous sound, or the one that remained too derivative of the English pastoral school. It is by no means avant-garde, nor is its lyrical character conservative; it is clearly a creation of the mid-century, comparable with the works of many other composers who stood aside from Darmstadt dogma. It is an impressive, vigorous, tightly argued work that should have become one of the leading chamber pieces of the New Zealand repertoire.

Beethoven’s ‘Spring’ Sonata was invested with similar energy, now with the piano part played by Sarah Watkins, pianist in the NZ Trio.  Its rising and accelerating phrases suggested a fast-emerging spring, blooming luxuriantly, as the sounds of the sea increased in sympathy with the performance. The two players made a highly attractive team, which could have suggested they’d been playing together for many years.

Fauré’s first violin sonata is one of his most lovely pieces, from the same vintage as the comparable, first piano quartet. It’s often compared to, and is almost as opulently romantic as, Franck’s violin sonata. It must be a joy for two good friends to play as the themes and motifs are tossed back and forth; the Andante, where the rhythm set up by pairs of quavers in four-beat time, seems to invite easy intimacy during a peaceful stroll. Then there’s the sparkling scherzo movement, Allegro vivo, in which both players’ dexterity, and especially Watkins’s, and ability to keep together was tested to the limit and not found wanting.

The biographical note reminded the audience of Armstrong’s role as director of the New Zealand (later the NZSO) Chamber Orchestra, founded in 1988 but, regrettably, disbanded few years ago: it was often recorded and the occasional broadcast of their recordings of 18th century works always strike me with their liveliness and polish. His talent for open, warm-hearted playing was very conspicuous in all three of the sonatas.

That is not to suggest that his was the dominant role, for Watkins playing is just as marked by its robustness and readiness to take the lead whenever it is called for.

The concert, and the series, ended with Mary Gow’s offering of one of Lilburn’s piano preludes which was followed by Armstrong and Watkins playing a quirky arrangement of the famous 1948 pop song, written by Ken Avery, Paekakariki (in the land of the tiki).

The audience at this concert was a little smaller than I’d expected. A pity, for it’s a long wait till the next season of concerts begins, which was outlined on the back of the programme. They start with the usual jazz concert in January and the five confirmed classical concerts start in March.

Bach Choir performs excellently in varied programme

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Victoria: Motet: ‘O quam gloriosum’; ‘Missa O quam gloriosum’
Britten: Prelude and Fugue on a theme of Victoria
Vaughan Williams: Mass in G minor
Bach: Chorales BWV 669, 670, 671; Chorale Preludes on the chorales: BWV 672, 673 and 674
Bach: Prelude and Fugue no.9 in E, BWV 854, from The Well-Tempered Clavier, Book I
Bach: ‘Ruht Wohl’ from St John Passion

Bach Choir, conducted by Peter de Blois with Douglas Mews (organ), Maaike Christie-Beekman (soprano), Katherine Hodge (contralto), Thomas Atkins (tenor, Simon Christie (bass)

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

Sunday, 7 August 2011, 2.30pm

This was a concert that deserved to be better attended; an interesting and diverse, yet linked, programme was well thought-out and well performed. The music by Victoria music was sung unaccompanied; the Bach accompanied, and the Vaughan Williams had an ad lib organ accompaniment, contributing additonal variety.

It was a surprise to find young tenor Thomas Atkins singing solo, in the middle of a brilliant season of Britten’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the University Memorial Theatre, in which he has a leading role.

I was pleased at last to see printed in a New Zealand concert programme the paragraph from the printed programmes for concerts at the Royal Festival Hall in London, the piece about uncovered coughs giving the same decibel reading as a note played mezzo-forte on a horn, and the disarming suggestion “A handkerchief placed over the mouth when coughing assists in obtaining a pianissimo”. Certainly, I heard but little coughing at this concert.

The Victoria motet was sung with a good robust sound, but it was marred, as were other items (e.g. the Sanctus of both the Victoria and the Vaughan Williams masses), by a slightly dubious first chord, pitch and attack-wise.

The Prelude and Fugue on a theme of Victoria was to have been played on the main organ in the gallery of the church, but unfortunately that organ was found to be ciphering badly (that is, notes sounding by themselves, unbidden – usually pedal notes), and so the chamber organ had to be used. Perhaps the main organ was anticipating the damp weather which arrived dramatically half-way through the concert, flinging a side door open to enable us to hear and see the hail falling.

It was quite perplexing to decide where the home key for Britten’s organ piece was – there was dissonance aplenty, and ambiguous chord progressions, especially in the fugue. Douglas Mews appeared to be in a little difficulty at the beginning of the work, probably because of the small instrument he had to play on (which Peter de Blois unkindly referred to as ‘the sewing machine’).

The character of the mass by Victoria balanced ‘great simplicity with… controlled passion’, as the programme note had it. The choir produced beautifully blended sound, excellent matching Latin pronunciation, and good dynamic variation in unison. There were some rough sounds from the men at times early on, but this did not persist. A jubilant Benedictus showed that the choir could produce plenty of volume, while the Agnus Dei featured exquisite sustained tone, and in the final sentence, lovely soft singing. This movement was the best of the Mass, with singing of fine clarity, quality, and complete accuracy.

The style of the period of the composition was conveyed well; the counterpoint was clear and the tone was sustained well through the long vocal lines.

Vaughan Williams’s Mass was very animated, the Gloria being especially lively. Both Simon Christie and Thomas Atkins sang very well in their solos and ensembles, with admirable tone and clear enunciation. The women did not measure up quite as well, but were certainly much more than adequate. Katherine Hodge’s voice did not carry as well as the others; holding her head up more and out of her music would assist with projection. Peter de Blois himself sang the solo plainsong introits in both the Victoria and the Vaughan Williams masses where they were required; this was fine from where I sat, but I do wonder if it carried to the people sitting at the back of the church.

Douglas Mews’s tasteful and effective accompaniments added to the effect of the Vaughan Williams work, which was set for double choir. It is a thoroughly pleasing work, simpler in style and shorter in length than many masses written for choirs to sing outside of a church setting, though its relatively short duration suits it for liturgical performance also.

The first Osanna, following the Sanctus, was spoilt by some very strange tone at times; it did not appear to emanate from one voice part only. Again, it was the Agnus Dei setting that was perhaps the most effective. It is very dramatic for both soloists and choir.

The second half of the concert consisted of chorales by J.S. Bach, and his associated chorale preludes for organ. The reproduction of the title page of the published Clavier Übung and the portrait of Bach embellished a well-designed printed programme.

The first chorale was followed by the relevant chorale prelude: ‘Kyrie Gott Vater in Ewigkeit’. It was for manuals only, as were the two other chorale preludes. It was a relatively simple variation on the chorale melody. The second chorale and its prelude, ‘Christe, aller Welt Trost’, were more ornate, but also more meditative. The singing showed care over tempo, tone and dynamics, while the organ piece was also more intricate than its predecessor, with interesting harmonies.

Third were chorale and prelude ‘Kyrie, Gott heiliger Geist’. The chorale was a more substantial and more robust work than were the previous two. German pronunciation was good, but not as clear as the Latin had been.

The organist had a yet more complex piece to play, with elaborate counterpoint and ornamentation. The chorale prelude was followed by Prelude and Fugue no.9 in E from The Well-Tempered Clavier, Book I. We are more accustomed to hearing these pieces played on the piano or the harpsichord. Naturally, they are perfectly able to be played on the organ; perhaps the only reason we do not hear them more often from that instrument is because there is so much music to play that Bach wrote specifically for the organ. The warm flute sounds of the chamber organ and the clean and clear playing of both prelude and the faster fugue, with all entries of the fugue subject apparent, made this an enjoyable and satisfying performance.

The final item was the beautiful ‘Ruht wohl’ (Rest in peace) chorus that concludes Bach’s St John Passion. This chorus is a delight, but I though the performance a little disappointing; the choir sounded a trifle tired. The falling cadences of the music are more tricky to keep on pitch, and this did not always succeed, the intonation slipping a little. Nor was the choir quite as unified as it had been in the other works in the programme. Douglas Mews’s accompaniment was at his usual excellent standard.

All in all, this was an excellent concert. The attention to tone, pronunciation and detail were, on the whole, very good. This was the best singing I have heard from this choir for many years – which is not to say that recent concerts have not been good, but this one scooped them.

Pianistic plethora at NZSM’s Hunter

Posted on by Peter Mechen

Keyboard Inspirations

– presented by Dr.Jack C.Richards and the NZ School of Music

Music by JS BACH,  SCRIABIN, RACHMANINOV, SAINT-SAENS, LISZT, DEBUSSY, HAYDN, WANG

Pianists: Jian Liu, Tony Lee and Buz Bryant Greene

Hunter Council Chamber, Victoria University of Wellington

Sunday, 7th August, 2011

The pianistic feast provided by this concert was jointly presented under the auspices of the New Zealand School of Music and Dr.Jack C.Richards, an indefatigable patron of music performance and composition in this country. Compared with having the usual single performer at piano recitals, this triple presentation of keyboard talent had much to offer the listener, albeit at a somewhat disconcerting pace of change. Speaking for myself,  while I wouldn’t want every piano recital I attended to “mix-and-match” in such a manner, the variety of performance style and repertoire here made for a fascinating afternoon’s listening.

Three pianists were involved, two of them linked by dint of association with the School of Music. Jian Liu is the recently-appointed Head of Piano Studies at the school (succeeding Diedre Irons, who retired last year). One of Jian Liu’s post-graduate pupils is Buz Bryant-Green, currently studying for a Master’s Degree in Piano Performance. The third pianist, Tony Lee, provided some trans-Tasman input into the proceedings, currently a student at the Sydney Conservatorium, but already an international performer and prize-winner in both European and Australian competitions.

After a welcome to the audience by the Music’ School’s Director, Professor Elizabeth Hudson, one which acknowledged the generosity of Dr. Jack Richards in providing a Music Scholarship for Overseas Postgraduate Study available to the School’s students, the musical program got under way with Buz Bryant-Green’s skilfully-wrought opening to JS Bach’s Fantasia in A-Minor BWV 922, the player’s impulsive and freely-applied sense of spontaneity surely expressing what the Master had in mind with this piece. Bryant-Green colored each episode freely in pianistic hues, as confidently pursuing his characterizations as any baroque keyboard virtuoso would have done. The pianist generally avoided too “monumental” a quality throughout, preferring to emphasize the element of spontaneous suggestion, which brought out the fantastic and volatile characteristics of the music even more. I thought it a bold, and confident performance.

This was followed by a pair of works whose composer’s intent, almost two hundred years later, was just as fantastical, Alexander Scriabin’s 2 Poemes Op.32, played here by Tony Lee. Straightaway one was drawn into a world where impressions flickered like candle-flame, the deceptive salon-type opening of the music leaning into and out of a Rachmaninov-like lyricism, with a “dying fall” reminiscent of the latter composer.Not so the demonic Second Poeme, biting and dramatic, almost feverish in its claustrophobic intensity – both pieces delivered with a mixture of rhapsodically free and tightly-wrought playing, impressing throughout by dint of the player’s unswerving focus.

It was Jian Liu’s turn to impress, with a beautifully-delivered, exquisitely-detailed “Reflets dans l’eau”, from Book One of Debussy’s Images. The pianist’s fine touch was evident throughout, as was a finely-judged ebb-and-flow of tone, playing which unerringly drew its audience into the composer’s unique sound-world. Interesting that, though his fine sensibility and acute touch was again evident throughout the Liszt Mephisto Waltz No.1 performance later in the program, Jian Liu’s  exposition of the tale of Faust’s rustic amour for me needed more storytelling “juice” in places, more interactive energy, both earthly and supernatural, to bring about a proper fusion of the details he laid out so beautifully with the growing drama and tension of the story. The rude vigour and abandonment of the dancing couples need to melt osmotically into Faust’s suggestive importuning of a village maiden, everything mocked by flickering scherzandi figures darting and sparkling like fireflies around and about the dance-ritual. I thought the most telling part of Jian’s performance was the song of the nightingale and the delicate arpeggiations suggesting Faust’s success with his seduction almost at the end – though Mephistopheles’ laughter could have been, I thought, subtler and more insinuating, leading into the brief coda.

Liszt’s hand was in the previous item as well, a transcription of Saint-Saens’ Danse Macabre, but further edited for super-virtuoso effect by Vladimir Horowitz, and played with plenty of wizardry by Tony Lee. Those evocative midnight strokes gave rise to diabolical fiddle-tuning, the pianist surviving a slight mis-hit while tuning his strings (an interesting parallel with the beginning of the Mephisto Waltz that Liszt would have appreciated), then proceeding to deliver a powerfully muscular dance, with lots of diabolical scamperings sprinkling the sulphur in appropriate places. As I didn’t know the Liszt transcription, I couldn’t tell how much Horowitz had turbo-charged the virtuoso fireworks (most of Liszt’s transcriptions are remarkably faithful to the original), but whatever the composer, the transcriber and the super-virtuoso had done between them to the hapless “Danse Macabre” it emerged as a remarkably brilliant and atmospheric pianistic essay under Tony Lee’s expert fingers.

There was plenty of virtuoso “roar” at the outset of Buz Bryant-Green’s delivery of another Liszt work, the wonderful Ballade No. 2, a depiction of the “Hero and Leander” story from Greek mythology. I liked the way Bryant-Green balanced the outer and inner conflicts of the music, the pictorial aspects of the storm at sea, and the stern inward resolution of the lovers to be united come what may. A pity he then, playing from memory, lost his way mid-stream and had to dash out to get his music! – even so, I admired the way he was able to pick up the threads for us and continue. Away from the storms and stresses I felt the more “Italienate” aspects of the piece needed more focus and fullness, the beautifully “sung” lyrical theme delineating the lovers’ ecstasy here sounding a touch perfunctory, instead of being “owned” and deeply sounded and romantically celebrated (there was nothing half-hearted about Liszt, nor about the music he wrote). Something of the same dissociation of energy and lyricism marked Bryant-Green’s performance of Rachmaninov’s mighty B Minor Prelude, christened “The Return” by the composer’s contemporary Benno Moiseiwitsch. At first I thought the pianist was merely letting the agonized theme which dominates the piece simply “grow” at the start, and the impassioned central section was splendidly realized – but both the theme’s stricken return, and the cry of pain which concludes the piece didn’t, for me, pierce the heart as I wanted – instead, the voice was numbed and inward-sounding (admittedly, the interpretation made me re-think the music, though I wasn’t entirely convinced that Bryant-Green’s heart was completely at one with what was happening at those points). But still, here’s a musician to be watched and given all encouragement to further develop as a performer, in my opinion.

Jian Liu’s pianistic credentials were enhanced  further by a lovely performance of the first movement of Haydn’s well-known C Major Sonata Hob.XVI:50, the pianist still managing a sense of fun amid the athletic, no-nonsense approach. A pity we weren’t given the repeat, because there was so much to enjoy and so little of the sonata presented to allow the same! I liked the beautifully-pedalled touches of colour in the development, echoed in the recapitulation, and also the contrasting tenderness of the lyrical second subject (what a shame we could’t have had the whole sonata!). Jian also gave us an arrangement of a Chinese folk-song, Liu-Yang River, charming and suitably exotic. And to add to this panoply of pianistic riches, Tony Lee performed firstly the short but extremely volatile Sonata No.4 by Scriabin, setting the dreaminess of the opening movement against the positively volcanic irruptions of its companion (a wonderfully elemental experience) – and then the two very last of Rachmaninov’s Op.32 Preludes, firstly the chilling, Slavic water-crossing of the G-sharp Minor No.12, and then the grandly chordal D-flat Major homecoming of No.13, almost Musorgsky-like in its expressive power and suggestions of Russian soul. Both performances took us unerringly to these “other realms” of creative imagination, from a composer who’s still, I think to receive his full dues.

And, unexpectedly, there was more Rachmaninov right at the end, a work I didn’t know existed, written for no less than three pianists! – a Waltz and Romance, dated (so Jian Liu told me afterwards) from 1891, and with what sounded uncannily like a direct “crib”, in the second movement, from the composer’s yet-to-be-composed Second Piano Concerto! A lot of fun, for both musicians and listeners, not the least for that ghostly pre-echo of a famous and much-loved work.