Month: September 2013

Goldner Quartet and Piers Lane shine and glow…

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Chamber Music New Zealand

Goldner String Quartet with Piers Lane (piano)

Dene Olding, Dimity Hall violins
Irina Morozova, viola
Julian Smiles, cello

 Schubert          String Quartet D810 ‘Death and the Maiden’
Gareth Farr     Te Tai-O-Rehua (Joint commission from CMNZ and Goldner Quartet)
Elgar                Piano Quintet in A minor

Michael Fowler Centre, Wellington

30th September 2013

This was an outstanding concert by an exceptional Australian ensemble playing a wonderful programme. Earthquake strengthening work has obliged Chamber Music NZ to move concerts from the Town Hall to the Fowler Centre and there were some doubts about the new venue’s suitability, given its acoustics and size. To offset its lack of intimacy for chamber music, a small pre-stage podium had been set up for the first two works, which brought the string quartet slightly closer to the audience.  Despite this, the extreme pianissimi that embellished parts of the Schubert were not adequately projected, although the device worked quite well for the huge dynamics of Gareth Farr’s work.

The opening Allegro of the Schubert was full of spirited dramatic sweeps and contrasting tenderness, but the repeated background viola figures that underpin its rhythmic dynamism needed to be clearer and louder for optimum effect. The Andante con moto variations were beautifully rendered as each instrument explored the Death and the Maiden theme, supported by extraordinarily delicate tracery from the other players. The Scherzo followed with great vigour and a convincing contrast for the Trio, then we were catapulted into the Presto finale. The tempo was bordering on the hectic such that, despite the dry acoustic of the Fowler Centre, the scampering passagework of the inner voices sometimes lost its clarity. The contrast of sweeping melodies against those scurrying rhythms is what gives this movement its incredible momentum, but those key inner lines were often blurred by the frenetic tempo. That said, it was a thrilling reading that showcased the quartet’s impressive technical prowess and control, especially in the unison statement of the opening theme and the closing unison scales.

Gareth Farr’s Te Tai-O-Rehua is being premiered on this concert tour, and it proved to be an exciting addition to the string quartet repertoire. Despite being a relatively short work, it commands full stature in the tradition of New Zealand programmatic works from composers like Lilburn and Pruden. Gareth Farr writes:

”Te Tai-O-Rehua” translates from Maori language as ‘The Tasman Sea’ – the turbulent body of water that separates New Zealand from Australia. The piece was commissioned by the Goldner Quartet and Chamber Music New Zealand – and as such is a testament to the sibling relationship our two countries have. One of the inevitable things about the process of creating a piece of music is that whatever inspiration you begin with, the piece will ultimately take over and tell you what it is. I intended to write a happy and joyous piece because that’s the way I feel about my relationship with Australia as a New Zealander …… but the music came out dark, mysterious, and edgy…….In Te Tai-O-Rehua I have used an unusual scale built out of minor thirds and minor seconds which contributes to the dark mood of the piece….”.

This mechanism imbued the music with an intriguing tonality that sat in a hinterland of its own – well out of diatonic territory, but equally well clear of the arid deserts of C20th atonalism. It challenged the ear with complete conviction, while remaining strangely indefinable. And it created a gripping atmosphere for the brooding opening, evoking so dramatically giant kelp seething on wicked rocks, the ominous agitation of the waters before the southerly blast, and the turbulence of violent storms. The Goldner Quartet did full justice to the passion and prowess of the composition, and conveyed the clear impression that they were privileged to play it. The audience obviously felt privileged to hear it too, as Gareth Farr was greeted with huge enthusiasm at the conclusion. Hopefully there will be many future opportunities to hear this challenging and exciting work, and not too long a wait until it appears on CD.

Elgar’s Piano Quintet in A minor is a giant work which sits with the very greatest of this classical genre. The sound was projected from the main stage very satisfactorily, despite the absence of any reflective panels apart from the grand piano lid. The first movement has a Moderato introduction which the group played with beautifully evocative delicacy before sweeping into the rich luscious idioms of the Allegro with its sly hints of dancehall music. The piano has a very dramatic role which Piers Lane threw himself into in a marvelous collaboration with the strings: with single minded vision and faultless execution the ensemble grasped the thrilling drama of the writing and its incredible shifts of mood and dynamics. The central Adagio opens with a glorious cello melody, where Julian Smiles’ intense warmth of tone and wonderful phrasing were quite breathtaking. The full ensemble went on to develop the sweeping melodic canvas with a passion that gave full voice to Elgar’s rich romanticism, before they folded the closing melodies into a deep repose.

The Allegro finale has great drama and intensity  – it is compelled along by extended passages of syncopation set against glorious sweeping melodies which are introduced and developed, interspersed with episodes of enormous energy and driving rhythms. The ensemble grasped every opportunity to its full musical and dramatic effect, and at no time did one feel this was a quartet-plus-piano group. The individual voices expressed Elgar’s intricate and masterful ensemble writing as if with a single heart and mind, and together they carried the work to a triumphant conclusion. There was an extended ovation from the audience who were rewarded with an encore, the Scherzo from Dvorak’s equally famous Piano Quintet in A. There the sparkling opening and closing sections were contrasted with a central trio section of magical lightness and delicacy. This closed an outstanding concert from an exceptional ensemble.

R.S.Thomas – a centenary remembered in poetry, scripture and music

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Wellington Cathedral of St Paul presents:
Choral Evensong marking the 100th anniversary of the birth of Priest-Poet R. S. Thomas

Choir of Wellington Cathedral of St.Paul,
Director of Music: Michael Stewart
Sermon: Rev. Dr. Tim McKenzie

Wellington Cathedral of St.Paul

29th September 2013

R. S. Thomas was a 20th Century Anglican Priest-Poet who died in the year 2000 after 40 years in the priesthood. He was a passionate Welsh nationalist, and a pacifist active in the C20th Nuclear Disarmament movement. Throughout his life he expressed his  spiritual explorations in poetry whose highly abstract language would sound unfamiliar to most young ears today. Over his ministry he moved progressively further and further from urban centres to ever more rural environments which doubtless nurtured his deeply contemplative writing. A revealing snapshot of the man and his life can be found at http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/belief/2010/apr/29/rs-thomas-poetry-religion.

Some of his poetry is, however, fresh and unambiguous, such as The Bright Field which was selected for the Introit at this Evensong service. Exquisitely set to music by former Kings Singer Bob Chilcott, the choral idioms were perfectly suited to the Wellington Cathedral, with the sound floating free and un-muddied by the acoustics. This is a startling feat, given the reverberation times typical of such churches, but then Chilcott was Kings College trained in the long traditions of English church choirs and the huge spaces they often sing in. The Cathedral choir did full justice to the beauty of both music and words:

I have seen the sun break through
to illuminate a small field
for a while, and gone my way
and forgotten it. But that was the pearl
of great price, the one field that had
treasure in it. I realize now
that I must give all that I have
to possess it. Life is not hurrying

on to a receding future, nor hankering after
an imagined past. It is the turning
aside like Moses to the miracle
of the lit bush, to a brightness
that seemed as transitory as your youth
once, but is the eternity that awaits you.

The following Evensong service observed the traditional format with the theme being set by the First Lesson read in the King James version from Isaiah 45:1-8 – the godhead is hidden and entirely beyond human reach or comprehension. Traditional Welsh hymns were selected in keeping with the R. S. Thomas theme: God, that madest earth and heaven (Ar hyd y nos), Immortal, invisible, God only wise (St. Denio), and Guide me, O thou great Redeemer (Cwm Rhondda). These were all conveyed to full breadth and effect with the support of the cathedral choir and acoustics, despite an only modest congregation.

Both the Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis were Leighton settings which were realised by choir and organist very much in the European cathedral tradition –a wide dynamic range was used to full dramatic effect, from the blast of triple forte to breathless hushed pianissimo, expressing the whole gamut from divine majesty to mystery in the godhead imagery. The acoustics of the cathedral ruled out any possibility of clear diction, but this too is very much in the European tradition of creating an atmosphere of awe and devotion through the powerful medium of the music.

The second lesson from John 6: 63-69 was read in a modern translation which seemed a less appropriate choice than the King James within the context of this particular Evensong; but the Anthem, composed by Director of Music Michael Stewart, was a very effective setting of R. S. Thomas’s haunting poem “The Other”, which was beautifully rendered by the musicians:

There are nights that are so still
that I can hear the small owl
calling
far off and a fox barking
miles away. It is then that I lie
in the lean hours awake listening
to the swell born somewhere in
the Atlantic
rising and falling, rising and
falling
wave on wave on the long shore
by the village that is without
light
and companionless. And the
thought comes
of that other being who is
awake, too,
letting our prayers break on him,
not like this for a few hours,
but for days, years, for eternity.

 The service closed with Vaughan Williams’ organ voluntary on the Welsh hymn tune Hyfrydol.  This concluded an Evensong which offered a very interesting and rounded insight into R. S. Thomas, not only through an apposite selection of music and verse, but also through the obvious commitment from both musicians and preacher to conveying a meaningful understanding of the man and his works.

 

 

Wellington Chamber Orchestra – after the First Cuckoo……

Posted on by Peter Mechen

Wellington Chamber Orchestra presents:

DELIUS – On Hearing the First Cuckoo in Spring / La Calinda (from “Koanga”)
BOTTESINI – Concerto No.2 in B Minor for Double-Bass
BEETHOVEN – Symphony No.7 in A Op.92

Hiroshi Ikematsu (double-bass)
Vincent Hardaker (conductor)
Wellington Chamber Orchestra

St.Andrew’s on-the-Terrace, Wellington

Sunday 29th September 2013

A comment from a friend at the interval helped answer my unspoken query “Why isn’t this
gorgeous music more often played?” which I’d been posing to myself while listening
to the two Delius items at the concert, before voicing it out loud to her – “Oh, it’s such
dreary, shapeless, formless stuff! – I can’t bear it!” was her response. It reminded
me that music-lovers world-wide can be readily divided into two groups – those who
like Delius’s music and those who don’t.

For the admirers there was plenty to like about these two performances, once the players
had roused their  instruments’ true “voices” from sleep at the start of each piece. After the
lovely “awakening” chords beginning the “First Cuckoo” piece, the upper strings had some
initial difficulties accurately pitching the rocking notes sounded thoughout their opening
sequence, though they settled down subsequently to give us some lovely playing. The winds
made some delightful contributions, the flute a bit too eager to begin, but still managing a
lovely solo – the strings’ increased confidence showed with a beautifully silvery entry,
answered by secure horns and winds. Of special distinction was the cuckoo itself,
beautifully and hauntingly given voice, the clarinet notes having a properly “recessed”
quality. It’s music that needs the utmost delicacy – and in places such as that lovely
moment of “frisson”between strings and winds just before the reprise of the main
theme, conductor and orchestra achieved that, to our delight (well, to the delight of
half of us, that is…)….

The programme note named Delius’s amanuensis Eric Fenby as the arranger of “La Calinda”
the lovely dance from the opera “Koanga” – however, this was one which was new to me,
beginning with some introductory string chords, presumably lifted from the opera. All I can
say is that there must be as many “arranged Fenbys” as there are recordings of the piece,
because they all seem to be different (some adaptation may have been done by
the conductor or whomever to fit the orchestra’s available players on this occasion)
– still, the essentials of the music were here,  the lovely oboe solo, the beautiful and mellow
flute-sound, and the ever-growing confidence of the strings as the piece unfolded,
despite some occasional spills. I did register a strange counter-melody from the lower
strings towards the end, which wasn’t on any of the recordings I owned – but it was all
part of the “not knowing what to expect next” scenario…..

I did so enjoy the Bottesini Double-bass Concerto, as much for the playing of the star
soloist, Hiroshi Ikematsu, as for the music, which was new to me. How wonderful for
the Chamber Orchestra to be able to draw upon soloists of this calibre for concerto
performances! – one thinks of some splendid instances at various past concerts, and
this one had a similar kind of distinction. HIroshi is, of course the current leader of the
NZSO’s double-bass section – and during his tenure he has noticeably galvanised those
players, whose unanimity of tones and deportment give great pleasure at any orchestra
concert. It was therefore distressing to read that he intends to return to Japan next year –
in a number of ways, our great loss.

Though I was sitting too far to the side to be able to fully enjoy the soloist’s range of
tones, I was assured by people in closer proximity that the experience of listening to
such playing was a kind of feast for the senses. I could register his more vigorous work,
but was able only to guess at the quality of some of the softer passages, all of which he
seemed to play with the agility of a ‘cellist, despite having to stand and hold up what
looked like an extemely cumbersome instrument to manage. We were able to fully enjoy
his technical capabilities in the first movement’s cadenza, which featured plenty of double-
stopping, rapid runs and virtuoso leaps, the orchestra coming in “on the hoof” as it were,
to deliver an excting conclusion to the movement.

Having in mind some of those interminably vapid virtuoso violin concerti which sprang
up like weeds through out the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, I rather thought
this music might turn out to be a “contrabass” version of the same kind of thing – but in
fact I found the work a stimulating listening experience with its composer tossing us
some unexpected twists and turns. The slow movement began with some raw tuning from
the wind and brass but soon settled down, the soloist firstly  counterpointing a warmly
romantic string tune, then “swapping roles” with the orchestra later in the piece, and
finishing with a graceful and winsome ascending line.

It all contrasted excitingly with the finale’s opening, the orchestra bursting in with heroic
gesturings, and the soloist setting off on his journeyings with a spirited kind of “road
music” theme. The players found it hard to keep together with some of their interjections,
and some of the exchanges were raucous, but the enthusiasm was evident, and the
soloist’s playing astonishing in its technical and expressive range. At the end of the piece
he got a warm and properly appreciative reception from all of us present.

After the interval it was time for Vince Hardaker and the players to confront Beethoven!
I remember reading, years and years ago, a review in “Gramophone” of a recording of the
Seventh Symphony made by a fairly prestigious orchestra and a well-known conductor.
The reviewer, who had himself conducted the work with amateur groups, commented on
what he called the “orchestra difficulty” posed by the incessant dotted rhythms of the first
movement, noting some lapses in ensemble on the recording.  Although Sir Thomas Beecham’s
well-known rehearsal comment on the music – “What can you do with it? – it’s like a lot of yaks
jumping about!” referred particularly to the work’s scherzo, a similar kind of boisterous spirit
informs much of the other quick music in the work.

True to expectation, it was the first movement which here caused the players the most
difficulty, the strings in particular having to bear the brunt of those obsessive rhythms. As
well, the ascending scale passsages after the opening chords caused some momentary grief
among the strings before the trajectories “found” one another and started to jell between
the players. Set against these purple patches were some splendid sequences, the lyrical lines
nicely handled by the winds and the brass chiming in at climactic points with great gusto,
contributing both thrills and spills.

The lower strings got the second movement processional off to a great start, with the violas’
counter-melody and the violins’ shaping of the main theme brought out nicely by players and
conductor. I liked the warm, reassuring tones of the major-key section – lovely clarinet and
horn solos – and the ensuing string fugato, though a bit seedy at the outset, developed into
something determined and powerful.  As for the Scherzo I thought Vince Hardaker’s tempo
just right for these players, giving them sufficient spaces in which to fill out the rhythms.
The Trio was a highlight, with the strings sustaining the oscillating theme while the winds
and brass notes rang out splendidly.

To my surprise the calls to action at the finale’s beginning were articulated crisply and
excitingly at the outset, with the momentums strongly kept up – a bit later, I liked the
leaping-figure exchanges between upper and lower strings (even if I thought the lower
strings could have “held onto” their final note a bit longer each time), and enjoyed the
wholehearted plunges back into the mainstream of the music’s flow after each divergence.
If the fearsome vortex-like passage towards the movement’s conclusion had an extra hint
of desperation about the playing, then conductor and orchestra’s achievement in pulling
themselves out of it all made the mighty brass-led homecoming all the more exciting,
the horns at the end sounding the triumph with gusto.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Splendid, dramatic Mozart Mass from huge Orpheus and Youth Choirs

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

The Orpheus Choir of Wellington, the Wellington Youth Choir and Orchestra Wellington conducted by Mark Dorrell

Soloists: Anna Leese, Emma Fraser, Oliver Sewell, Kieran Rayner

Mozart: Exsultate Jubilate and Mass in C minor, K 427

Michael Fowler Centre

Saturday 28 September, 7:30 pm

Many of us think of Mozart’s ‘Great’ Mass as being one of the unassailable masterpieces, up there with his Requiem and the requiems of Verdi, Berlioz, Brahms and Fauré, and great choral works Messiah, Bach’s passions and the B Minor Mass, Beethoven’s Missa solemnis, and so on.

But the not exactly over-flowing Michael Fowler Centre suggested that I do not have a lot of company (were ticket prices a bit high?). Almost all the side seats of the balcony were empty and the stalls were not dense with enthusiasts. It’s not as if we hear the work every year. Perhaps I don’t remember another choir performing it in recent years, but my last recollection is the Orpheus’s performance in 1988.

This was a splendid performance. We had the (perhaps inauthentic) experience of a huge choir, the Orpheus and the Youth Choir together, filling the choir stalls, which sang with enormous energy and, often, unaccustomed speed.

The mass was preceded by Mozart’s Exsultate Jubilate, the solo part taken by Anna Leese. The orchestra gave spirited and authentic support, driven by Mark Dorrell, taking pains to create varied dynamics and articulations. In the same way Leese varied her projection, sometimes seeming to create a buffeting effect, a varying of intensity rather that actual volume, I thought. And it was notable that the orchestra’s dynamics scrupulously took account of what the soprano was singing; there was no ostentatious baroque affectation, such as a ban on vibrato, though the playing was always crisp and lively. The orchestra was on great form with excellent woodwind, brass and timpani making prominent
contributions.

There was a nice accompaniment in the Recitativo by the chamber organ, with a solo cello contributing the other element of the continuo. Here, with longer legato lines, the soprano sounded more at ease than in the Aria, allowing her voice to flow more comfortably, and the little cadenza at the end was very striking. Finally, the best-known section, the Alleluia, involving a dramatic modulation, held few terrors for Ms Leese.

The major part of the evening was taken by the Mass, almost an hour long though it is famously incomplete, with no Agnus Dei and a few other smaller sections missing. But these are concerns only for the listener who mistakes it as a liturgical work; that is irrelevant for us and may not have been very important to Mozart either, though it is speculated that he used other Mass settings that he had written to fill the gaps. Some filling of gaps is common and the version used here is a common one, by Mozart and Haydn scholar, H C Robbins Landon.

The performance paid attention to all the great variety of styles and treatments which, as the notes in the programme point out, reflect earlier and current choral and operatic styles: Bach and Handel, Gluck and Pergolesi, involving choir, orchestra and soloists in taxing activities.

In the spell-binding opening, which seems at once to promise a creation of great moment, the music sets a moderato tempo, though the orchestra and choir were generally crisp and staccato, which allowed more attention to detail both on the part of performers and audience. In the Kyrie different sections sang contrasting words simultaneously, with varying emphasis; Mozart’s constantly changing use of various sections of the choir, dividing parts, always with perceptible dramatic intention, found scrupulous treatment by the choir. For all its size, Mark Dorrell achieved marvellous precision, varied colour and great power from the choir, throughout; often emphatic as in the ‘Gratias’, and slow and arresting in the pleading ‘Qui Tollis’, against stabbing strings in angry dotted rhythm, that focus attention on the final words, ‘Miserere nobis’; one of the choir’s real high points.

Anna Leese took the first soprano part, entering a couple of minutes into the Kyrie, and delivered at a subdued, stately pace: which is how it should be, leading movingly, with the choir, to the beguiling little melody that soon takes it over.

The bass Kieran Rayner, entered momentarily at the beginning of the Gloria, giving the words a sober, robust masculine tone, though it is a predominantly choral section. Anna returned in the more lively ‘Laudamus te’ section, singing with crisp phrase endings, scaling the heights in a few decorative, bravura passages.

Soloists appear sparingly through the piece; the second soprano, Emma Fraser, does not appear till the ‘Domine Deus’ when both join in duet; a duet that presents continuous challenges. Fraser’s voice offered a somewhat unexpected contrast with Leese’s: Fraser was distinctly brighter and allowing one to feel that the latter was singing a mezzo role.

After the choral ‘Qui Tollis’ the two sopranos were joined by tenor Oliver Sewell in the ‘Quoniam’; there the women’s more penetrating voices slightly disadvantaged the tenor, and Fraser’s voice outshone Leese’s by its sheer brightness.

The elaborate Gloria ends ritually with a fugal choral climax, Allegro, and emphatic in the final Amen, all of which conductor and choir drove with tremendous verve, sounding as if it were the finale of the entire mass.

The bass, Kieran Rayner, again appears at the start of the Credo, enunciating the church’s first simple command ‘Credo in unum Deum’, but the choir takes over with almost overwhelming impact, ranging far and wide in both dynamics and range, the orchestral strings dancing with pungent little quaver motifs.

The ‘Et Incarnatus’ offered display for both Fraser and for the orchestral winds, as her words are accompanied by flute, the bassoon and oboe to support a plangent, almost lamenting tone. Her voice projected splendidly, beautifully, and proved a real show-case for her in a movement which is indeed a small masterpiece. It was the only time clapping broke out spontaneously, and it was entirely deserved.

We do not hear the solo bass part properly till the final section, the Benedictus, which goes steadily, rather soberly paced to start; all four soloists are in charge for a considerable time. Both men sang well, but they were simply out-gunned in vocal intensity by the two sopranos, and it was not till the choir entered with the orchestra, in the ‘Osanna in excelsis’, that we got a hint of what might become a big choral finale. But it’s really a bit of a tease for it proves to be a slightly truncated affair, though a none the less fitting finale; in truth, however, it does lend credence to the thought that Mozart did intend to write a glorious Agnus Dei to bring his masterpiece to a really dramatic, powerful end.

But what there is, from these splendidly rehearsed forces, made a wonderfully satisfying evening.

It is probably unorthodox to draw attention to a performance that is there for the world to see and hear on Youtube, but having been so enthralled by this Wellington performance, I looked around the Internet. Here was a stunning performance by French choir and orchestra: the brilliant young Accentus Chamber Choir and the Insula Orchestra, playing on period instruments, under their conductor Laurence Equilbey. See: www.youtube.com/watch?v=oTI_z714dOo‎

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Fab Five explore neglected vocal territory at St Andrew’s lunchtime concert

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

The Fab Five vocal quartet (Lesley Graham, Linden Loader, Richard Greager, Roger Wilson and William McElwee) and pianist Mark Dorrell

Beethoven’s Fidelio: ‘Mir ist so wunderbar’
Haydn: Die Harmonie in der Ehe; Die Warnung; Der Greis
Brahms: An die Heimat; Der Abend; Fragen, Op 64
Wagner: Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg: ‘Selig wie die Sonne meines Glückes lacht…’

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday 25 September, 12:15 pm

When you Google many 19th century composers and look at the list of their works, the casual browser is likely to be surprised at the number of vocal pieces that are not the usual Lieder or Mélodies or other classes of solo songs: there are collections of part-songs, songs for duet, quartet and other small ensembles, not to mention the cantatas and motets and other choral pieces. It is particularly true of Brahms.

This kind of song seems to be rather neglected today, and they are much less performed in main-stream concerts than are solo songs.

This short concert was a most striking evidence of the rewards that are awaiting the musician who ventures in that direction.

It may or may not have been an added enticement that the two groups of part-songs were book-ended by a couple of famous ensembles from German opera.  Those opening and closing pieces certainly had that effect on me.  Nevertheless, as soon as the jewel-like quartet from Fidelio gave way to the group of Haydn vocal quartets, any doubts about the latter’s charms vanished.

The quartet from Fidelio was a short but moving opening to the recital; ‘Mir is so wunderbar’ is an ensemble in canon in which each, Rocco and Jaquino, Fidelio and Marzelline contemplate their situation and futures. Lesley Graham, as Marzelline, opens in a charmingly tremulous voice followed by Linden Loader as an appropriately youthful Leonore (Fidelio); then Rocco sung by Roger Wilson, for a moment in a tenorial register and, by no means least in the quartet, Richard Greager’s less important role of Jaquino. It was all serenely supported by Mark Dorrell at the piano.

Then Haydn. Die Harmonie in der Ehe at once lifted the spirit, not a moment’s feeling that here were a few things that have been justifiably overlooked over the last century (at least). First, the sparkling, refreshing piano part from Dorrell, and then the whole quartet singing as one, yet with the character of every voice clearly delineated. The sprightly fast quavers never slackened for a moment, and the light-hearted revelling in simple pleasures could not have been better expressed.

The next two took quite different courses: Die Warnung, a semi-serious warning, in a mock, martial vein, against dangers that can emerge from unexpected quarters; and Der Greis (The Old Man), conveying a contented melancholy, reflecting on fading strength and physical attributes, and welcoming the imminence of death, in slow, legato phases, with all four singing in heart-warming balance and lovely ensemble.

The Brahms quartets came from his Op 64, written in the year 1864. In the first song, An die Heimat, the piano at first commanded attention with a rising triadic chords in quaver triplets. The sound of Brahms is always unmistakable, though it is another thing to carry it off with such naturalness and affection. How well they four captured the spirit of rather simple and improbable contentment in the pleasures of home. In the middle, there were beautiful solo episodes from Richard Greager and Linden Loader.

In Der Abend, the piano laid out a ghostly fabric, a triple rhythm sounding the first two beats of the bar, leading briefly to a charming duet between Richard Greager and Roger Wilson, resonant and comfortable, allowing Schiller’s symbolic handling of the approach of welcome death to be conveyed as if they singers really believed it. It’s a rather common subject in German Romanic poetry.

Spirits rose in the final song, Fragen – Questions. It led off in lively triple time, 6/8 I suppose, and soon floated  up to some sort of ecstatic high with the piano contributing to the joyfulness of being in love.

The Meistersinger von Nürnberg quintet arises in the scene of Act III in which Sachs has been helping Walther to shape his Prize Song, also at hand are Eva who will be Walther’s ‘prize’, and Sachs’s apprentice David and his love Magdalene who is Eva’s nurse, or maid.

The coming together represents many facets of human goodness: love, generosity of spirit, self-sacrifice, selfless renunciation of futile hopes, the power of music to elevate behaviour which involves the principal theme of the opera: the reconciliation of tradition with creativity in art. We find all these embodied in Sachs’s own nature and behaviour.

I always find this music too short and so it was here; the use of piano was no handicap, in fact Dorrell’s performance  made if sound as if Wagner had written it primarily for the piano. Here, the fifth voice, David, was provided by current NZSM voice student, tenor William McElwee, making a good impression in the piece where even small parts are to be distinguished.  So there were splendid opportunities for all five to be heard, though it was the Sachs of Wilson, the Walther of Greager and the Eva of Graham who were in the main beams of light. It brought a delightful recital to an all too early end.

 

Violinist Blythe Press delivers fine Artist Diploma recital at the New Zealand School of Music

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Artist Diploma Recital

Mozart: Violin Concerto no.4 in D, K.218 (first movement, allegro)
Tchaikovsky: Sérénade mélancolique, Op.26
Wieniawski: Polonaise de Concert in D, Op.4
Sibelius: Violin Concerto in D minor, Op.47

Blythe Press (violin) with Emma Sayers (piano)

Hunter Council Chamber, Victoria University

Sunday 22 September, 12.30pm

It seemed an odd time for a recital, but perhaps the timing was dependent upon those grading the performance.  A mere handful of people attended apart from staff and students of the School of Music.  A lack of publicity was probably as much
responsible as was the awkward timing.

Nevertheless, those who heard Blythe Press and Emma Sayers were well rewarded, by fine playing and an interesting and wide-ranging programme, all played from memory.  While the programme of the recent soprano recital I reviewed was also performed from memory, I do think it is harder for instrumentalists: longer works, so many notes, and no words to hang them from.  The sound in the Chamber was excellent – clear and sympathetic, and resonant without being reverberant, such that the piano was played with the lid fully up, but it never became too loud for the soloist.

I was interested in Blythe Press’s style of holding the instrument; he holds it quite high, the scroll usually being significantly higher than the chin rest.  It reminded me of Francis Rosner, an early member of the then National Orchestra, who was German.  Perhaps this is a central European style?   Blythe Press studied for five years in Graz, Austria.

Mozart’s violin concertos are all quite lovely, but the fourth is particularly delightful.  My ancient Menuhin recording is still a firm favourite.  Blythe Press made a strong start, with warm tone. There were a few slight intonation inaccuracies, but there was no doubt about the skill of the playing.  The cadenza was approached gently, but later became challenging, with double-stopping and fast bowing across all the strings.  It was an enjoyable performance.

The piece by Tchaikovsky could hardly have been more different.  The nineteenth-century style of lyricism was well conveyed.  There was big tone from the lower strings in the early part of the work, which then became more animated and exciting.  Press obtained a great variety of tone from his instrument, and communicated the contrasting emotions extremely well.  As the programme note stated, it was “lyrical and haunting”.

Wieniawski was a noted virtuoso violinist himself, and his compositions are of the same ilk.  It is quite often played, demonstrating the performers’ range of technical skills – but it is not without tuneful, rhythmic and lively qualities.  Again, there were one or two pitch wobbles, but Press had the piece well under his bow and fingers.  Harmonics were used regularly, in the midst of phrases normally fingered, and the melodies leapt swiftly round the fingerboard.  Press’s playing certainly brought out the poetry as well s the bravado.  What a wild dance this was!

The pièce de resistance was Sibelius’s violin concerto, an absolute favourite of mine.  It was more strange to hear the orchestra replaced by a piano in this work than in the Mozart, since of course Sibelius employs a much bigger orchestra and a wider range of instruments and therefore the textures are much thicker.

The wind gusting outside the venue lent verisimilitude to the stormy, wintry first movement with its bleak opening, and orchestral ostinato sounding like snow falling.  The cadenza was a fabulous piece of playing: strong, sustained and seductive.  Press rose magnificently to the many technical demands.

The second movement was not blithe, but bliss.  I adore the climactic discords and their resolution that feature in this movement.  The emotional tension and passion are incomparable.  It is also very lyrical, and was played with smooth, rich tone, but those climaxes were given full weight.  It was strange that this movement was not given any attention in the programme notes.

The third movement had great vigour, yet fine definition of the notes.  Plenty of variety and nuance were bestowed on it, despite the technical difficulty.  It was a fine performance from Blythe Press, and from Emma Sayers too, having to represent an orchestra in such a long work.
All praise to her for her highly musical part in proceedings.

 

Lazarus String Quartet tackles the classics

Posted on by admin

Wellington Chamber Music Sunday Concerts
Lazarus String Quartet

Violins :  Emma Yoon / Julianne Song
Viola :  Lindsay McLay / Cello :  Alice Gott

Haydn Quartet in C, Opus 20 no.2
Beethoven Quartet in G, Opus 18 No.2
Brahms Quartet in C minor, Opus 51, No.1

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

Sunday 22 September 2013.

This talented ensemble was formed in 2009 and comprises graduates of the University of Canterbury. They currently hold the Yehudi Menuhin ‘Live Music Now’ Scholarship in Hannover, Germany, where they are all studying at the Hochschule for Musik.

They offered an attractive programme of works by three giants of the string quartet repertoire – Haydn, being known as “the father of the string quartet”; his former pupil Beethoven; and Brahms. And this group presented it with rich musicianship, passion, and impressive technical mastery. Unfortunately, however, they had not come to grips with the acoustics at St.Andrews, which are now so much brighter and less sympathetic to chamber music since the recent alterations. The forte dynamics were consistently “overplayed” to the point of harshness, particularly in the upper register of the lead violin, and the tempi adopted for fast movements were often so hectic as to obscure the melodic brilliance of the composers’ lines. The technical tour de force unfortunately backfired to the detriment of all three works.

The Haydn work launched into a very polished opening which immediately announced that this student ensemble is clearly set on the road to professional status. Haydn’s marking is Moderato for this movement, but when played Allegro by the group, the clarity of the decorative passagework was smudged by the lively acoustic of the space. Likewise the Allegro fugue of the finale, a gem of its type, suffered for being played Presto. That said, the Capriccio and Menuetto central movements offered some beautiful and sensitive passages that revealed the players’ true musicianship, expressed in a wide dynamic range. The expressive pianissimi were quite breathtaking in their contrast with the strong octave passages that characterize the writing.

The Beethoven is an early work, but none the less challenging for its apparently straightforward style. The opening Allegro was again played Presto, so that the beautiful decorative elements in the opening theme lost the clear enunciation they need. The Allegro finale was beautifully introduced by the cellist, but the bright melodic writing that builds with such excitement to the close became increasingly scrambled by the speed and acoustics the space. This group needed to find the balance between expressing the vitality and exhilaration of this work, and stepping across the line into a hectic mode that actually robbed it of its youthful brilliance. In a nutshell, it is not “late Beethoven” and does not deserve to sound like it. The beautifully delicate reading of the Adagio cantabile showed the ensemble at its very best – they let the music speak with its own voice to wonderfully musical effect, and that is all they needed to do in the fast movements too.

The style of the Brahms’ quartet is somewhat better accommodated to St. Andrew’s acoustics. The opening Allegro features piano sections which were beautifully realized, interspersed amongst fortissimo episodes where the dynamic was still seriously overplayed. The following Romanze benefitted from a much more sensitive interpretation, as did the Allegretto where there was a good dynamic range, yet one which sat very comfortably within Brahms’ comodo marking. The turbulent mood of the final Allegro was attacked with great ferocity, but this was exaggerated to a point that threatened its commanding majesty.

This hugely talented ensemble simply needs to have sufficient confidence in their obvious technical and musical abilities to let the music of these great composers speak for itself. When they were able to do so, most obviously in the slow movements, the effect was profound. The cellist played a key role at these times, where her soaring silken tone and melodic grace set her apart. The members of Lazarus Quartet showed passion, commitment and great technical prowess, as well an obvious delight in their craft. This they projected to the good sized audience at St.Andrew’s, whose enthusiastic applause amply showed how appreciative they were. I believe the ensemble has a great future ahead of it, and I hope they continue to return to New Zealand and share their gifts with us.

This was the fifth of six Sunday Concerts presented this year by Wellington Chamber Music. They offer an impressive lineup of ensembles including pianists and string players, in various combinations. Despite the concert series banner which depicts a horn, there is sadly no wind or brass ensemble nor any vocal element in the series. Given New Zealand’s enormous talent in all these areas this is a strange and unfortunate omission, but hopefully one which will be remedied in future programmes of this series.

China meets New Zealand in music – the NZ Trio

Posted on by Peter Mechen

The Confucius Institute at Victoria University of Wellington presents:
JOURNEY TO THE EAST – Concert One: Between Strings

NZ Trio (Justine Cormack, violin / Ashley Brown, ‘cello / Sarah Watkins, piano)
Chen Xi-Yao (guzheng)

BRIGHT SHENG – Four Movements for Piano Trio
CHEN YI – Tibetan Tunes
CAO DONGFU – Celebrating the Lantern Festival
FAN SHANG’E – Spring Morning in the Snow Mountain
DYLAN LARDELLI – Between Strings (NZ Trio commission)
GAO PING – Su Xie Si Ti (NZ Trio commission)

Hunter Council Chamber, Victoria University

Saturday, 21st September, 2013

Some years ago there appeared a famous LP recording entitled “West meets East”, featuring violinist Yehudi Menuhin and the famous sitar-player Pandit Ravi Shankar, which was a kind of “ear-opener” for people who hadn’t been exposed to any kind of eastern “classical” music. A quick search through the chaos of my collection failed to locate the actual album, but I do remember the presentation being a mixture of “genuine” Indian music with improvisaions featuring the violin/sitar/tabla combination, coupled with a performance by Menuhin and his pianist sister Hepzibah of a violin sonata by Enescu.

This recording, and the interest it generated in Eastern music throughout the West (at roughly the same time that the Beatles were writing for and using a sitar in some of their songs) came to my mind at various moments throughout this “Journey to the East” concert featuring the NZ Trio and the Chinese guzheng player Chen Xi-Yao. Of course such collaborations between diverse musical traditions are far more common now than they were in the 1960s, and here in Aotearoa we are occasionally enthralled by the sounds of Richard Nunns’ presentations of taonga puoro, often in tandem with groups like the New Zealand String Quartet.

I found it an enthralling listening experience, and one not without its challenges – though, ironically, it was the work of New Zealand composer Dylan Lardelli which most markedly bent my listening sensibilities in divergent directions. Without being steeped in the actual sounds of traditional Chinese instruments and their unique expressive modes I found myself adopting the attitude of an explorer coming across a wondrous new country, enjoying things for their novelty and exotic manner. So, even when instruments familiar to my experience were being used, such as in Bright Sheng’s Four Movements for Piano Trio,  I encountered many sounds whose motivation and effect I could only guess at, while enjoying the composer’s acute ear for a range of sonorities.

Bright Sheng drew the material for this work from a solo piano piece My Song written in 1988, the music stimulated by the composer’s interest in evolving a “tonality” relating to his experiences with both Oriental and Western music. On a superficial level the sounds resembled a catalogue of “effects” which the players realised on their instruments with great aplomb, Chinese folk-fiddle-like melodic progressions and glissandi from both violin and ‘cello, and resonant and evocative activations of the piano strings from “within” by the pianist. The preludial, folkish first movement was followed by two more vigorous movements, firstly a bright and vigorous treatment of an actual folk-song, involving some extremities of instrumental timbres, and then a more primitive sound-world of crunching, Bartok-like piano notes, driving, gutteral strings, and savage punctuations of the textures from all sides, pushing the expressions of energy to the point of exhaustion. The composer called the final movement an evocation of “a lonely nostalgia”, one whose beauty and quiet manner cast a spell over we listeners, and obviously activated a kind of impulse to communicate with us from elsewhere, as the piece’s concluding silences were broken by the anxious tones of a cell-phone!

We then heard music by Chinese-born American-based Chen Yi, whose work for piano trio Tibetan Tunes similarly fuses Eastern and Western modes. Her writing seemed to me to almost ‘take over” the timbral characteristics one normally associates with a piano trio, readily evoking something outside the Western ethos. The first of two tunes was called Du Mu which is the name of a god in Tibetan Buddhism, and which the composer wished to depict “in a serene mood”. She did this by writing in a very open, evocative way at the piece’s outset, contrasting held notes and gentle rhapsodisings from the strings with the piano commenting at the phrase-ends – and from this she led the instruments into a kind of simpatico canon (one whose widely-spaced textures allowed  the northerly wind which was gusting outside to add a kind of rushing, evocative counterpoint!). Again the solo instruments reflected individually upon the god’s all-encompassing serenity, with the piano having the last brief word – beautiful, sensitive playing from the Trio.

The second piece, Dui Xie, was inspired by Tibetan folk-ensemble music featuring bowed and plucked strings with bamboo flutes. Some lively, cheeky and angular piano sounds underlined the singing, duetting strings, before a more motoric section brought forth driving piano figurations and slashing string pizzicati – some arresting string harmonics called a halt to such brash displays of energy, before returning to the opening, the piece all the while presenting us with a sound-world of focused delicacy, suggesting a kind of informed beauty in the mind of its composer.

Thc concert’s guest artist was Chen Xi-Yao, one of the world’s foremost performers on the guzheng, a Chinese stringed instrument resembling a zither. Chinese-born, he’s currently resident in New Zealand, and is based in Hamilton, working as a teacher and performer. He performed two solo pieces for guzheng, one of which, Celebrating the Lantern Festival, was written by (and dedicated to) his grandfather, Cao Dongfu. The work began like a folk-song fantasia, then spectacularly erupted with great flourishes and strummings and quickening bass-note rhythms, generating great physical excitement. The second work, Spring Morning in the Snow Mountain, was a nature-piece, written by another Chinese guzheng master, Fan Shang’e, the sounds inspired by her memory of a Tibetan spring morning. A long-time resident of China, she now lives in Canada.

Both of these solo pieces were, not unexpectedly, given masterly performances by Chen Xi-Yao, who then turned his attention (in tandem with the NZ Trio musicians) towards a piece by New Zealand composer Dylan Lardelli, Between Strings, a work commissioned by the NZ Trio. The title gently suggests that music is as much about the spaces in between as the notes themselves, and the kinds of gestures and sonorities resulting from this idea encouraged me to imagine a possible set of voicings suggesting these spacings while the  work was played.

What resulted was mind-enlarging stuff, the sonorities right from the outset having both angular and disparate characters – a bowing ‘cello set against “plucked” textures from the other instruments, for example – these kind of contrasting wrap-around sounds explored the ambient spaces, with sustained notes leading the more abstracted staccato figurations onwards. The violin mused with harmonics as the ‘cello emitted windmill-like sighs of generated impulse, around which the piano resonated with single notes sounding over vast spaces. Chen Xi-Yao’s guzheng maintained its zither-like character, but occasionally the player opened up its timbres with great flourishes – an invitation for the piano to explore its extremes and invite our sensibilities into the spaces between. There is, of
course, such an inherent stillness about music in general, which we as listeners don’t often acknowledge, and which this work encouraged us to explore without flinching, a “sounds in the air” outlook whose outwardly spontaneous ambient adventurings made my natural instincts work overtime to help try and accept as such.

All of which I found hard, if rewarding, work – and so it was with some relief that I turned to the programme’s final item, another NZ Trio commission, this time from Gao Ping, currently  the Visiting Lecturer in Composition at the New Zealand School of Music in Wellington. The work was called Su Xie Si Ti, or “Four Sketches”, which the composer described as “short and concise”, and each possessing “one single mood” – he also likened the pieces to “snapshots of moments in memory”. To me this seemed almost Mahlerian in spirit, with one of the scenes in particular an almost visceral evocation of a Chinese folk-funeral, complete with an off-stage violin for antiphonal effect, playing “happy music” in tandem with the lamenting ‘cello, who remained on-stage – the composer’s title for this piece, Dui Wei, or “Counterpoint”, set both moods in play together. Justin Cormack and Ashley Brown seemed to relish the theatricality of it all.

Another of the pieces called whimsically Cuo Diao (“Split Melody”) sounded like a couple of Aeolian-like harps attempting to coalesce their sounds, a combination which resulted in some gorgeous sonorities, and occasionally strange “alien” notes, with some wonderful, short-lived diversions from the home key of the piece. The work had begun with a piece called Xiao, or “Boisterous”, music which lived up to its name, a muscular, closely-worked, rather Janacek-like piece, spare and energetic.

The afternoon’s final piece was called Shuo, or “Shining”, a musical evocation of sparkling light, with gamelan-like piano patternings and pizzicati underpinings from the strings – a lovely long-breathed melody brings a contrasting mood and texture, though the rhythmic drive of the piece never goes away, the excitement in places augmented by instruments’ individual “accelerandi”. As the piano continues the forward drive, the strings sing a kind of threnody, a passionalte utterance which abruptly stops at its peak – as we in the
audience were left tingling by these momentums, we gladly continued the tumult of sound with noises of great appreciation – very great honour to the NZ Trio (and to Guzheng player, Chen Xi-Yao) for enabling us to experience such a richly-conceived journey.
 

 

 

Impressive final recital as Isabella Moore prepares for study abroad

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

‘Vivere per Amare’ (Live to Love) – final recital for Postgrad. Diploma in Voice
Arias, Lieder and Songs

Isabella Moore (soprano), Bruce Greenfield (piano)

Adam Concert Room, New Zealand School of Music

Friday 20 September 2013, 6.15pm

A massive thunderstorm, such as we seldom get in Wellington, prevented me from arriving at the recital in time; hail and heavy rain meant I had to stop en route because I simply could not see the surface of the road.  However, it was well worthwhile persisting with the journey.  Isabella Moore has an impressive voice of wide range, an imposing platform persona, and is accomplished across a variety of composers, genres and periods.  She certainly showed us what she can do.

My colleague Lindis Taylor was also at the recital, and has given me some comments on the items I missed: “‘Porgi amor’ had quite careful scene setting before Isabella entered, with Greenfield’s piano introduction.  She entered slowly from the rear, letting her face reveal her emotions as the introductory music continued.  Her voice is not the typical creamy, Kiri-like soprano but quite hard and bright, yet it was fully expressive of her sadness.

“She sang the Ritchie songs with considerable tonal variety, giving each a distinct character.”

The first song I heard properly (as opposed to through the door from the foyer) was Richard Strauss’s Freundliche Vision, Op.48 no.1, the second Strauss lied. What first struck me was the power of Moore’s voice, her clear German language (and this was true also of French, Italian, English and Russian) and her good voice production.  Her climaxes were exciting and her soft passages tender.
Here is another excellent Samoan Strauss singer, like Aivale Cole.

It is perhaps a moot point whether the singer should modify her volume to the size of the room in which she is performing, or whether, for the benefit of those grading her diploma recital, she should show what she is capable of in terms of power and volume.  Certainly I found some of the singing too loud for the acoustic, but it was a case of power, not forcing or shouting.  I believe I have noted in a previous review that Isabella Moore uses her resonators so well; tone production is beautiful, and resonant, without a huge effort (apparently), and without a wide open mouth.  Her low notes are full of emotion, often well into the mezzo-soprano range, and her high notes are controlled.

Wagner followed: two of the Wesendonck lieder: ‘Der Engel’ and ‘Schmerzen’.  It was impressive to consider the variety of songs performed in the concert, and the sheer amount of work required to memorise them and master their performance.
Moore coped well with this demanding repertoire, though it would be pushing her voice to perform Wagner in an opera house at this stage of her career.  Both consonants and vowels were beautifully made and the powerful declamations were all in place.

After the first of two short intervals, we heard an aria by Jules Massenet: ‘Pleurez, pleurez mes yeux’ from Le Cid.  Here, as elsewhere, Bruce Greenfield’s tasteful and highly musical accompaniment was a joy.  Moore’s communication of the emotion of the piece with the audience was splendid, partly through her excellent enunciation, and her observation of the contrasts in the words.

Liszt’s song ‘Oh, quand je dors’ was convincingly performed.  I’ve always been told that singers should not exhibit teeth; that the teeth inhibit the production of tone and its full expression. However, while we saw quite a lot of incisors etc. in this song
particularly, I did not notice any effect on the quality of the sound.  The song could have sustained even more feeling and emotion.

Berlioz wrote wonderfully romantic works, and was rather ahead of his time in his invention, orchestration and word-setting. Near the top of the list is Les nuits d’été (Summer nights), and from this song cycle (usually with orchestra) Isabella Moore sang ‘Le spectre de la rose’, a setting of a poem by Gautier.  There was no strain in the voice, even on a high crescendo – but this fine song will grow more magnificent as the singer matures.

The Rachmaninov songs featured hugely expressive and demanding accompaniments, as befitted their composer, a top international pianist.  The first song, ‘Oh, never sing to me again’ was a setting of words by Pushkin.  This is a very dramatic song, and hearing it in Russian added to the effect.  The others were ‘Before my window, Lilacs‘, and In Spring Waters.  In these, found the sustained high volume too much. Yet Moore proved again that she can do delicacy too, notably in the second song.

To opera next, and Bellini’s ‘Casta diva’ from Norma.  As elsewhere, Bruce Greenfield was a one-man orchestra.  It was a very lovely rendering, but I’m not sure that bel canto is Moore’s ‘thing’. However, Lindis Taylor said “I was pretty impressed by her Norma performance which was clearly intended to be the show-piece and it was. The way she dramatically shifted gear for the cabaletta, from the pure sacred utterance, and then the prayer specifically asking for the return of her lover. And her ensuring that we understood the meaning of the words as distinct from aiming simply to astonish us with her vocal histrionics; they were certainly impressive.  The whole thing certainly made a dramatic impact.”  There were a few inaccuracies, but apart from that, Moore demonstrated the flexibility of her voice.

In the lighthearted final item, Flanders and Swann’s ‘A word in my ear’ Greenfield was the miming fellow-comedian.  This item included a ‘Farewell’, then just as the audience (and the adjudicating lecturers!) thought it was over, we were stopped, and the song became ‘I’m tone deaf’, a hilarious travesty of a singer – but hard to manage to sing out of tune, after all that training and practice!

A pity after putting so much work into a sizeable printed programme, to have it marred by mistakes, words missed out, and howlers, such as Strauss ‘paved the way for his predecessors’, and the muddling of Salzburg and Vienna, and their respective roles in Mozart’s career. A glance at an atlas could have cleared this up, and passing the notes to someone else to read through would, hopefully, have got rid of the mistakes.  Apparently people recall the opera by Massenet by the one aria, yet in the next line “it seems to have been forgotten”!

Worse than these was perhaps the use of the translations. I looked up the relevant website that was the source of most of them, out of curiosity (using the names of the translators to get to it).  It stated, over the name of Bard Suverkrop “Copying of the text (cut and paste) not permitted” and that the web address and name of the author should be given when public use was made of the translations.  We had the names, but… was copyright permission obtained?  If it was, this should be shown.  If not, the law has been broken.

 

A rare, delightful Lieder recital from two seasoned musicians at St Andrew’s

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

A recital of favourite Lieder by Schubert and Brahms

Roger Wilson (baritone) and Martin Ryman (piano)

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday, 18 September 2013, 12.15pm

Here were two seasoned musicians, in contrast to the many recitals at St. Andrew’s from emerging performers.  It was a delight to hear lieder; in Wellington we all too seldom have an opportunity.

The two opening Schubert items were well-known: “Der Wanderer an den Mond” and “Auf dem Wasser zu singen”.  It was a delight to have both German words and translations printed; even though Roger Wilson’s German pronunciation is impeccable and his projection of the words first-class, it underlined the fact that the meanings of the songs and the extent of the composer’s brilliant word-setting cannot be fully appreciated unless the hearers understand the words’ sense.

There was some slight variability in intonation in these songs and elsewhere, and also the odd occasion, particularly in a couple of songs, where the performers were not quite in synch. Nevertheless, it was great to hear these wonderful songs
live.  “Ganymed” is less well known; as a longer song, it allowed for more development and expressiveness, which it received.  Again, there were clear words, and caressing of beautiful phrases.

A break for the singer was provided by Mendelssohn’s: Song Without Words, Op.19 no.1. The flowing quality of this piece echoed that of the songs.  Ryman played with finesse in this acoustic,
which is sometimes difficult for the piano.

Next came “Der Wanderer”, which was performed with considerable sensitivity to the words – a feeling of isolation was the pre-eminent mood.  Schubert’s superlative setting of poetry was
most notable here, but also in the following “Fischerweise”, a more joyful song.  In the first verse, the piano was a little too loud for the light tone Roger Wilson adopted.

We turned now to Brahms. “Wir melodien zieht es mir” immediately demonstrated the difference of this composer’s writing from that of Schubert.  The breadth of melodies and wider expressive scope distinguishes Brahms from the more intimate songs of Schubert that we had heard so far.  The setting of “Sapphische Ode” was perhaps a little low for Wilson’s voice.  Though sung with tenderness, we couldn’t get its full impact when the lowest notes could not be fully delivered.

Another piano solo was Brahms’s Intermezzo in A Op.118 no.2. Well-loved indeed, as the programme note stated – I heard it played on Radio New Zealand Concert only the previous night – it was given a fine interpretation, bringing out its nostalgic quality, the pianist caressing the piano to reveal beautiful sounds.

Schubert’s “Prometheus”, setting words by Goethe, is a ‘dramatic monologue’ with various sections, each of a different character, rather than a lied.  It has a grandiose opening, and depicts Prometheus’s defiance against Zeus.  The truculence of the words in many of the verses was eminently portrayed in the music, and in the performance; quite unlike most Schubert songs.

The recital ended with the delightful “Die Taubenpost”.  As Schubert’s last song, its travelling theme has perhaps additional significance.  The gorgeous accompaniment, with its continuous momentum, was impeccably played.  The song made a lovely ending to the concert.