Month: September 2014

Saxophone feast from the New Zealand School of Music

Posted on by admin

New Zealand School of Music Saxophone Ensembles
Artistic Director: Debbie Rawson

J. S. Bach Aria: Erbarme dich, Mein Gott for Saxophone Sextet (Arr. R. A. Moulds)
Soloists: Reuben Chin, Katherine Maciaszec
Nigel Woods Schwarzer Tanzer for Saxophone Quintet
Karen Street Tango for Saxophone Quintet
T. Albinoni Concerto in D Minor for Soprano Saxophone: Grave-Allegro-Adagio-Allegro.(Arr. D. Rawson)
Soloist:  Reuben ChinJean Rivier Grave and Presto for Saxophone Quartet (1966)

W. A. Mozart Rondo Alla Turca for Saxophone Sextet (arr. M. Mijan)

Sopranos: Reuben Chin, Debbie Rawson
Alto: Kim Hunter
Tenors: Katherine Maciaszec, Nick Walshe
Baritone: Graham Hanify

Old St.Paul’s lunchtime series, Wellington

Tuesday 30th September 2014

The Bach aria which opened this concert must be one of the most sublime vocal duos ever written, and it has been sung with breathtaking beauty by all the great oratorio artists. Hence it has to be a very demanding challenge to achieve a successful transcription for saxophones. The power of the original is such that I found it impossible to banish that version from my mind, and hear the saxophone transcription entirely on its own merits. However, it was very adequately played by both soloists and others, and Reuben Chin’s soprano sax tone was smooth and pleasant, never hinting at the sharp edge that is commonly heard in pop sax playing. But the music did seem somewhat hurried to do justice to the grace and beauty of its melodic lines. I wondered if Reuben had listened to some of the great vocal renditions, shaped as they are by periods of piano relief, with each phrase delineated by those momentary breaths, both physical and musical, that allow each phrase to be absorbed and confirmed by mind and spirit.

The Nigel Woods number, translating as “Black Dancer”, recalled the idioms of Kurt Weil and the Berlin nightclub scene of the 1970’s. The schmaltzy tunes were passed between the various instruments, with Graham Hanify’s baritone sax melodies being particularly throaty and seductive. The group obviously relished the music, and it offered a completely different perspective from the previous work on the possibilities for sax ensemble writing.

Karen Street’s Tango also sat very comfortably for the quintet, displaying the benefit of her own wide professional experience as a sax player. The score captured very successfully the laid back, louche mood of the tango, but she cleverly interrupted this with a brief central, highly animated section before lapsing back into slow seduction. Again the players drew the listeners into their obvious enjoyment of the music.

The Albinoni Concerto was a transcription Debbie Rawson did in 1979 after she heard overseas a riveting trumpet solo performance. Her saxophone version proved remarkably effective, with Reubin Chin giving a very polished delivery, marked by sensitive slow movements. The solo part sometimes needed more “space” to be heard through the supporting ensemble in the first allegro, but the balance in the final allegro was good.

Jean Rivier is a noted French composer whose contributions to the classical saxophone repertoire are much prized by players. The harmonic idioms in this work are very interesting, and the opening Grave was given due elegance and style by the players. The Presto makes considerable technical demands, with some very tricky rhythms, challenging unison sections and high speed passagework, all of which were pulled off with exemplary skill.

The transcription of Mozart’s Rondo Alla Turca took off at an almost hectic gallop, possibly fuelled by exam nerves which tend to ramp up the tempo! (This concert was being assessed as part of university course requirements). Much to the players credit, there was barely a concession to snatching a breath, and most of the notes made it! It was a spirited end to an excellent, entertaining concert, offering a window into a repertoire that I imagine few regions of the country have the opportunity to enjoy. Wellington listeners clearly appreciate this, as there was an excellent turnout on a day when many might have been tempted to soak up the wonderful spring sunshine  outside.

Debbie Rawson is once again to be congratulated on the way she is nurturing and expanding young talent in this tertiary course, not to mention all her numerous other endeavours in the woodwind and band worlds.

 

 

 

Old St.Paul’s lunchtime series, Wellington

Tuesday 30th September 2014

Youth and experience: organ-playing at St John’s, Willis St.

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Organ Recital at St. John’s Church

Bach: Toccata in D minor BWV 565
Couperin: Selections from one of his Masses
Franck: Chorale no.3, in A minor
Moritz Deutsch: nos. 9-12 from Twelve Preludes on Old Synagogue Melodies
Mozart: Adagio and Allegro for a Mechanical Clock, K.594 (arr. D. Halliday)
Bach: Prelude and Fugue in B minor BWV 544

Chelsea Whitfield and Dianne Halliday (organists)

St. John’s Church, Willis St., Wellington

Sunday 28 September 2014

It was interesting to be treated to a recital by two female organists, one a young student, the other long-experienced and highly expert.  However, the latter is currently a student too, working towards a doctorate (Doctor of Musical Arts) at Victoria University.

In St. John’s Church, with its fine wooden architecture, both external and internal, sits a splendid organ which needs some money spent on it to keep it in good playing order.  The series of recitals is one of the ways in which  the church is trying to meet that need.  It is a Lewis organ: Lewis and Company was an important firm of organ builders founded by Thomas Christopher Lewis (1833-1915), one of the leading English organ builders of late 19th century.

The organ, perhaps demonstrating its need of some restoration work, was a little out of tune in places on Sunday.

Chelsea Whitfield is an organ student at the New Zealand School of Music, but began learning the organ at 15.  She played first the well-known Bach Toccata in D minor.  It was probably nerves that accounted for quite a number of ‘fluffs’ in this piece – playing something so well-known compounds the difficulty, and also playing an instrument with which she would not be so familiar (she plays mainly at St. Paul’s Cathedral).  Of course, every organ is different in ways far more profound than is true of any other instrument, and it can take time to get to know a new one.  She chose a very suitable registration, nevertheless.

François Couperin’s Pièces d’orgue consistantes en deux messes (Pieces for Organ Consisting of Two Masses), were written around 1689–1690 when the composer was 21.  The pieces chosen from the first Mass, written for parish churches (many of which have splendid organs, of which I have recently had first-hand experience) gave variety of tempi, mood, and registrations.  There was a little blurring of notes on the flutes early on, i.e. they were not cleanly fingered.  But this was a rare aberration in Chelsea’s performance of the attractive music.  It was good to hear the different colours of the organ, as described in the titles of the pieces: ‘Recit de Chromhorne’, ‘Dialogue sur Le Trompette du G. C. [Grand Choir?] et sur la Montre’, the latter being the French name for Diapason.

Chelsea seemed very at home in this repertoire, and also in the Franck Chorale that followed.  This composer is not my favourite, but the Chorale was a brilliant piece well played – an exciting and highly competent performance.  The gradual build-up of volume and the selection of bright-sounding stops kept the work out of the mire into which Franck’s Chorales can fall.  There was plenty of contrast, and many tricky passages and turns were well mastered.  It was a fine rendition.

Dianne Halliday’s first pieces were something new to me, and I suspect to the rest of the audience too.  As I discovered in France, and as Dianne described, synagogues in some European countries have had organs for a long time, and music was written specifically for them.  Moritz Deutsch lived from 1818 to 1892, in Germany.  The first two of the pieces was written for the festival of Rosh Hashanah, and the next two for Yom Kippur, both festivals taking places around this time of year, as Dianne explained (in a voice projected so as to be easily heard, despite not using a microphone).

The first was rather ‘square’, with an improvisational feel to it; the second prelude brighter and without that improvisational character.  No.11 was solid, rather like a church chorale, but with some interesting chord progressions.  Nos.11 and 12 both began in the bass, on pedals.  No.12 was very bright, with contrasts.

Dianne’s arrangement of Mozart’s piece for an even more mechanical instrument than the pipe organ (in reality a minute pipe organ mechanically operated) had its delights.  The charming adagio was followed by a fast allegro with lots of trills.  The use of a 2-foot stop perhaps equated to the high tones of the tiny pipes of the original, and made for a brilliant, almost bird-like tonal quality.  The last section was quiet on flutes, and without the bright top.

Playing Bach was a great way to end the recital.  What ample interest Bach built into his organ music!  In his company both Franck and Mozart seem dull (no reflection on the arranger of the latter’s piece!)  Bach’s progressions, counterpoint and cadences promote a mood of certainty and cheerfulness – yes, even in a work written in a minor key.  The complexities of the fugue held no fears for Dianne Halliday’s capable technique.  Some of the harmonic modulations would be astonishing even if Franck had written them.

While organ recitals never attract a large audience (except the free ones that were held in Wellington Town Hall, of happy memory), there was a respectable number present to take in the diversity and interest of the programme and its performers.

Tests of character – Wellington Chamber Music recital from Ludwig Treviranus

Posted on by Peter Mechen

Wellington Chamber Music 2014 presents
Ludwig Treviranus (piano)

PAUL SCHRAMM – Nine Preludes
MAURICE RAVEL – Miroirs (Reflections)
SERGE PROKOFIEV – Three Pieces from “Romeo and Juliet”
MODEST MUSORGSKY – Pictures at an Exhibition

Wellington Chamber Music Concerts 2014
St Andrew’s-on-the-Terrace, Wellington

Sunday 28th September

Midway through pianist Ludwig Treviranus’s recent St.Andrew’s recital I was ready to tell anybody who would listen that this was shaping up to be a concert in a thousand – the Paul Schramm Preludes represented for me a major pianistic discovery, and I’d never heard parts of Ravel’s Miroirs played better by anybody, in concert or on record.

Of course, I needed at that stage to bear in mind one of the exchanges in Carl Sandburg’s anecdotal poem The People, Yes – the one where the city slicker asks the farmer, “Lived here all your life?” and the farmer replies “Not yit!” – that there was, at the half-way point, still a lot of musical  water still to pass under the pianistic bridge, and that I had better, like Carl Sandburg’s farmer, remain circumspect until all had run its course.

As it turned out, I thought the young pianist wasn’t able to recapture the “first fine careless rapture” of those first-half items after the interval – in  contrast to the elegance, finely-wrought detailing, deep evocation and well-tempered exuberance of the Schramm and Ravel items, neither the  Prokofiev “Romeo and Juliet” pieces nor Musorgsky’s epic traversal of an intense friendship, “Pictures at an Exhibition” seemed to my ears  sufficiently “owned” by Treviranus, despite some wonderful moments in each of the works.

So, I thought it was very much a “concert of two halves”, with the pianist seeming to give his all right from the start, and then, faced with the  complexities of the programme’s second half, perhaps running out of steam a little. It appeared also as though the post-interval items were  here prepared less thoroughly and meticulously than were the Schramm and Ravel works. The Musorgsky in particular lacked surety in places –  not only were there a number of finger-slips and lapses of memory but some of the sequences weren’t focused, weren’t “held” with enough through-line to fully transport us into the world of the particular impressions of time, place and the composer wanted to convey.

I was somewhat surprised that “Pictures” didn’t have the whole of the second half to itself, as it’s of reasonably “stand-alone” length and has a wide range of expression, needing nothing to act as either filler or foil. Generous though Treviranus was in giving us the scenes from Prokofiev’s “Romeo and Juliet, I thought their back-to-back positioning with “Pictures” actually detracted from our concentration and focus upon the latter. It’s a work that, I think, cries out for “stand-alone” placement in any concert, especially as it’s really a kind of ritual, with an inevitability of advancement shared by all great works of art. Part tragedy, part celebration, it’s a unique amalgam of descriptions and emotions, gathered together by the circumstance of one individual’s painful and debilitating loss of a friend.

Enough! – various pianists of my acquaintance have testified as to their own love of excess when young, armed with energy to burn, with generosity of nature, and with oceanfuls of delectable, mouth-watering repertoire to play and enjoy. As the conductor Sir John Barbirolli once said, referring to ‘cellist Jacqueline du Pre’s whole-hearted, super-charged music-making – which he loved, but which some critics found too fulsomely expressed: “When you’re young  you should have an excess of everything!” Sir John adding, “you have to have something which you can pare off and refine as you grow older….”

So – there we were at St.Andrew’s Church, in the company of the personable Ludwig Treviranus, smilingly welcoming us to the recital and telling  us his thoughts about each group of pieces he was about to play. This was all very much of a piece with his music-making, delivered as if it  were the most natural thing in the world to do. Particularly interesting to hear about was his discovery and advocacy of the Paul Schramm  Preludes, a project derived from his involvement with a collection of New Zealand piano pieces in a volume “Living Echoes – The First 150  Years of Piano Music from New Zealand”, researched and edited by Wellington teacher Gillian Bibby.

Paul Schramm, along with his wife, Diny, arrived in New Zealand in the late 1930s as refugee émigrés from Germany. Making their home in the  capital, they brought considerable musical skills to Wellington, Paul as a performer and Diny as a teacher – activities which the war years all but curtailed, treated as they were like aliens by the establishment for the duration. Paul left New Zealand for Australia after the war, where he died  in 1953;  but Diny remained in Wellington and continued to teach here for many years afterwards.

Schramm’s Nine Preludes reflected his own musical tastes, influenced as the writing was by Prokofiev, Debussy, Ravel, Bartok, and  Scriabin. It seems the pieces were conceived as a set of nine, or perhaps even ten, though “Number One”  was missing when the original discovery of the music was made in the Alexander Turnbull archives. A later search turned up another Prelude – perhaps the missing one, perhaps another altogether – so that today we got the original number of pieces, whatever the origins of the first of the set.

Though derivative in style and content, each of the pieces, with Ludwig Treviranus’s vividly-projected and sharply-focused advocacy, sparkled with the glint of rediscovery and impinged their essences upon the memory. Analysis of each piece and its performance  would fill a book, so I’ll content myself with remarking on a couple of the pieces and their juxtapositionings. First came the the imposing and  impressively-wrought “Biblical rhetoric” of the writing in the opening Prelude “On the Death of a Great Man: FD Roosevelt 12th April 1945”,  complete with echoes of “The Star-Spangled Banner”. It was a piece whose direct appeal to the emotions contrasted immediately with the  following “Satyr’s Dance”, a mischievous, spikily-harmonised part-waltz-part-scherzo, the pianist making the most of the interplay between  massive, Prokofiev-like momentums and Ravelian delicacies.

I particularly liked the “Ritual Dance of a Javanese Warrior”, a dark-hearted waltz flecked with glinting colours, cruel in its “snapping” figurations  and remorseless harmonies, its effect made all the greater in retrospect through being followed by “Hommage a Scriabine”, with its  shimmering textures and insinuating modulations. Perhaps along with the Debussy-like “Glittering Thirds” it’s the most unashamedly imitative,  as Schramm’s titles, of course, do readily suggest. I admit I did wonder about Treviranus’s performance of the Seventh Prelude, “Distortion of a Viennese  Waltz”, though, as Schramm’s original subtitle for the piece (quoted in the programme) was “arrogantly performed by a German General Staff  Officer”. As played here, I thought the pianist largely ignored this directive – the performance was far too musically sympathetic and lilting in  manner to evoke any kind of arrogance or brutality!

From these marvellous pieces we went on to Ravel’s “Miroirs”, where more pianistic riches awaited our ears! – Treviranus brought out almost  everything one could wish for in the music – the opening of “Noctuelles” (Night Moths) all impulse and feathery excitement, the textures wrought of magic, and the subsequent evocations of night sublimely realised, the darkness suggestive rather than sinister. “Oiseaux tristes” featured a different kind of ambience, the pianist able to tellingly “place” the birds’ calls in the silences, stressing the solitariness of the listener’s experience.

But I thought the performance’s most sublime moments were in the following “Une barque sur l’ocean” (A boat on the ocean)  – Treviranus conjured from his piano some of the most beguiling keyboard sounds imaginable, the playing suggesting as readily the oceanic depths as the surface play of light and air on the waves, everything – even the glissando – gorgeously “touched in”. He brought out Ravel’s utterly seductive interplay of melody and figuration in a finely-activated liquid flow, and with almost lump-in-throat delicacy as the ship passed by, leaving only impressions on the memory.

That same delicacy of utterance and feeling for atmosphere was evident in the final piece of the set as well – “La Valée des cloches” (Valley of the Bells). Pianist Robert Casadesus was quoted in the programme notes as having been told by Ravel that “the piece was inspired by midday bells in Paris”. However,  the music has never seemed that way to my ears – nor, I think to those of Ludwig Treviranus, judging by the almost crepuscular ambience he wove with and around the sounds. These bells were more nostalgic and dreamlike than real, middle-of-the-day angelus-bells, activated by deft stroke-making on the part of the pianist, the oscillations continuing to enchant the imagination’s ear long after the actual sounds had ceased. I thought it simply lovely playing.

No, I hadn’t forgotten the jester and his morning song (Alborada del gracioso)! – we got some exciting playing from Treviranus, just missing, I thought, the last ounce of rhythmic “swagger” through a shade too quick a tempo, but still capturing plenty of thrust and volatility of the opening, and enabling a great flourish at the end of the first section. But the expressif en recit of the middle section was where I would have liked a more marked contrast with the livelier outer sequences, a freer, deeper, canto-jondo-like feeling of a singer caught and held by some deep emotion, interrupted by the physicalities which come back at the piece’s end. But I realise that I’m quibbling, here – it really was marvellous playing!

Still, after these stellar feats of re-creation, I sensed that the pianist had begun to tire, and his focus lose its edge. Prokofiev’s famous “Montagues and Capulets” sequence from the “Romeo and Juliet” ballet certainly strutted its stuff with real menace, arrogance and swagger, and the ghostly ambience of the trio section was well-caught, as the disguised Romeo and his friends sneaked into the Capulets’ Ball. But the impish fun of “The Young Juliet” needed a lighter touch throughout to REALLY scintillate, and the opening “Folk Dance” had some untidy figurations in-between the episodes of young-braves’-bravado from both of the warring families.

Following this came Musorgsky’s “Pictures at an Exhibition” – and there were moments from Treviranus of brilliance and rapt insight into a unique world of contrasted expression. These were flung, teased and dragged across the surface of a creative canvas with great panache – the opening picture, Gnomus, for one, gave off a gorgeously volatile and unashamedly malicious aspect, one whose acerbities set “The Old Castle” into rich, darkly-lit relief. I also thought “Samuel Goldenberg and Schmuyle” a pair of vividly characterized gentlemen, one assertive and overbearing, the other wheedling and pathetic. And, as a double-whammy kind of crowning conclusion to the work, the witch Baba Yaga’s wild rides were savagely and outlandishly celebrated, her music spectacularly disintegrating against the bulwarks of “The Great Gate at Kiev” with its pomp, splendor and introspective moments of ritualistic piety.

However, it was, I thought, for the pianist, still a work in progress – a number of uncertainties inhibited the kind of breathtaking identification with the music that had characterized Treviranus’s earlier playing of “Miroirs” and the Schramm pieces. Just to take one example – I’m certain he will, in time, delve more deeply into and relish the stillness that marks the transition from those stark, remorseless structures of “Catacombs” to the mystical revelations of “Cum mortuis in lingua mortua” – the place where the composer was, for a few moments, reunited in quiet ecstasy with the spirit of his dead friend, Victor Hartmann, the artist of the “Pictures”.

Of course, Musorgsky’s tragedy was that, even while celebrating his friend’s memory he was on a downward path to an alcohol-soaked oblivion which put a premature end to his own life and creative career – sobering (sic) thoughts indeed, and especially with which to conclude this celebration of a major pianistic talent here in Wellington.

 

SMP Ensemble – Sound Barrel a “lucky dip” for this listener!

Posted on by Peter Mechen

SMP Ensemble presents:
SOUND BARREL

Music by:
CHRIS CREE BROWN, HIROYUKI YAMAMOTO,
JASON POST, GIACINTO SCELSI,
BEN GAUNT
Graphic Scores by:
TOM JENSEN, LYELL CRESSWELL,
SCILLA McQUEEN

Special guest artist:
KANA KOTERA (euphonium)

SMP Ensemble:
Karlo Margetic, Richard Robeshawe, Reuben Jellyman
Cordelia Black, Tabea Squire, Sam Vennell
Chris Wratt, Anton Killin, Jason Post

Adam Concert Room,
Victoria University of Wellington

Friday 26th September 2014

That enterprising and congenitally provocative performing group, the SMP Ensemble presented a characteristic program for our delight and fascination at the Adam Concert Room last Friday evening.

Every piece on the program brought its own specific amalgam of spontaneity and thoughtfulness to bear on both the recreative process and the audience’s receptivity – a kind of “expect the unexpected” ethos whose attendant challenges, bewilderments and satisfactions truly “spiced up” the evening’s music.

I must admit to a certain level of self-generated bravado in writing these words, gobsmacked as I was by the effect of some of the sounds that I heard, experienced and watched being made throughout the evening. Particularly thought-provoking were the items featuring graphic scores, each of which was displayed clearly and spaciously (excellent and audience-friendly visual displays were a feature of the concert), giving us some unique insights, both cerebral and instinctive, regarding that mysterious, often nebulously wrought “womb of interactivity” that exists between composer and performer – and, of course, by extrapolation, each listener.

It was very much a case for me of being faced with music for which I had relatively little previous reference in terms of being able to make judgements and draw conclusions based on what I saw and heard. I found myself going back to points of revisiting of my own “formative responses” to sounds, well before my current ostensible crop of expectations relating to conventional classical music. I was reminded, again and again, by what I heard the SMP players do, of my first encounters with things that were world-enlarging, both in terms of timbre and colour and texture, but also in terms of structure and organization and juxtapositioning.

In short, I was “undone” to a large extent by the concert, and this is a record of the ensuing impressions I received from the music while in that partly delightful, partly precarious state.

The concert began with a piece by UK composer Ben Gaunt, one whose basic idea interestingly “resonated” within me – that of “Sympathetic Strings”, ambiences created by material that resonates as a consequence of other materials being “played” – of course stringed instruments do have this very particular on-going quality, whether intentional or incidental. Gaunt carried this idea over to having sounds generated by performers whose creative imaginations “resonate” as a result of what they hear other performers do. The performance was directed by Jason Post, whose own music was to make an appearance in the concert’s second half.

The Ensemble’s formation at the beginning visually expressed a kind of Newtonian “action” and “reaction” process, with clarinet, double bass and violin to the right of the performing area, and an accordion, violin and percussion set antiphonally to the left. The music began with beautifully-floated, nocturnal-like lines from clarinet, double bass and violin, occasionally punctuated by irruptions from the left, as if worlds were colliding and rubbing along each other’s edges. Of a sudden all hell seemed to break loose, in particular from Karlo Margetic’s clarinet, which seemed to be expressing some kind of musical apoplexy, a process which led to the player actually collapsing and having to be revived by a violinist – was this a mere theatrical touch, or an organic consequence of the “sympathetic” pressures brought to bear on the performer by the music?

Christchurch composer Chris Cree Brown’s “Sound Barrel” gave its name to the concert, but amply characterized the music we heard, scored for euphonium and fixed media playback. We were first introduced to the guest soloist, Japanese-born Kana Kotera, obviously a virtuoso of her instrument, judging by the timbal and coloristic command she was able to exert upon the euphonium’s sounds, ranging from cavernous, tuba-like grunts and galumphings to honeyed-tone croonings. “Elephantine Dreams” could as well have been the piece’s title, as the fixed media playback gave a definite “narrative” context for the soloist to muse upon Quixotic-like adventures, alternating between the fantastical and the extremely visceral.

Poet and composer Cilla McQueen’s work “Rain” added a graphic visual element to the evening’s proceedings, the ensemble “playing” two of the composer’s semi-abstracted “graphic scores” – works of art in themselves, of course! It was a colourful assemblage of instruments indeed! – a ukulele played with a painted stick, a double-bass, bongo drums played with sticks that had soft felt heads, a violin and an accordion – and some kind of tube with a piece of chain attached. The composer/artist’s  second score had a more recognizable kind of contouring, in the shape of a fern frond about to unfold. More obviously rhythmic at the piece’s beginning than was  the first realization, this piece seemed to me more ritualistically or ceremonially conceived than the first one – perhaps a more public as opposed to a previous private acknowledgement of the psychology of weather. Instruments such as a gong advanced a feeling that the second graphic score invited a more structured and kinetic approach to the composer’s own inspiration

Wellington is currently playing host to composer Hiroyuki Yamamoto, from Japan, here on a three-month composer residency – his piece “Ginkgo biloba”, written for solo euphonium set the player a number of technical challenges and difficulties, designed to show off the particular qualities of the instrument, and the virtuosity of the player. Beginning with a kind of definitive euphonium statement of declaration, Kana Kotera seemed to “own the work” – she adroitly moved from her opening “calling card” mode to the piece’s “real” business, setting sostenuto lines against staccato impulses, the music’s momentum gradually building, the animation increasing and the ratio of introspection diminishing.

Some of the composer’s explanations I understood – microtones and multiphonics, for example – but “half-valve” defeated me! – I assumed it was some kind of “shortening” technique used to alter pitch and timbre, and would have been used by the soloist as part of the extraordinary array of speech-like intonations throughout the piece, in which mouthing and tonguing would have had a significant part to play. Her timbral and coloristic capabilities on the instrument were in fact astonishing, the potentialities she unlocked for expression fulfilling almost to excess the prescription expressed by the composer that the sounds needed the kind of inherent ambiguity which suggested and demonstrated their basic instability.

More graphics accompanied Lyell Cresswell’s “Body Music” – appropriately dedicated to Jack Body (who was present at the concert) at the time of his fiftieth birthday (how time flies!) – here were great flourishes of exuberance, the sounds fluid and dynamic, the liquidity of the textures advanced by the use of a celeste. I took from it a kind of celebration of human physicality and impulse, the music shaping form and characterizing movement in sound. The actual graphic score appropriately displayed a human shape packed tightly with notes, a depiction of a truly musical being!

Giacinto Scelsi’s 1976 work “Maknongan” brought back Kana Kotera, eager to explore with her euphonium the Italian composer’s refined, somewhat austere world of limited notes inflected with microtones. Called by one commentator “the most focused and abstract work Scelsi ever composed”, the piece was also one of  the composer’s very last works. The euphonium’s rich sound seemed to me to “humanize” the composer’s characteristic austerities (well, as with the ones I’d previously heard, anyway!), the soloist furthering the process by employing a stylish hat with a paper rose in the hat-band as a kind of “mute” for the instrument! As these things often do, the mere sight of the hat performing this function enhanced the aural effect!

The work, true to the composer’s style, revolved around a single note, the music’s explorations of associated notes (octave-plus-one leaps, various microtonal “shifts”  and numerous timbal contrasts) creating a kind of centre for the work upon which we listeners could focus. As with any sound, constant repetition alone gradually changes the ambient receptivity – this, together with the numerous variants, aural and visual, made for a kind of  micro-journeying of transformation within the piece’s surprisingly short span. The piece was written for “any bass instrument”, thereby inviting further conjecture regarding what kind of sound-world a string bass, for instance, would create – all very intriguing!

More work for Kana Kotera and her trusty euphonium, with Jason Post’s “yatsar”, a work for the instrument and electronics. The composer alerted us to the meaning of “yatsar”, a Hebrew word for fashioning or shaping, as would a potter fashion a vessel from clay, which is, of course, a well-known biblical metaphor for God’s creation of man. This idea was expressed by breath to begin with, the player blowing tonelessly through the interment, while the electronically-contrived ambience suggested pulsations of rhythmic movement amid a kind of “white noise”. The euphonium’s notes seemed to my ears to be recorded as well as played “live” – whether or not “looped” I wasn’t sure. I imagined that the interaction between “real” acoustical sounds and the electronic ambiences might have represented a kind of relationship between creator and the fashioned object.

What to make of Tom Jensen’s “What is it?” which followed, a piece for solo violin played by Tabea Squire? – perhaps the rhetoric of the title is its own best description, given the composer’s own quasi-nihilistic notes regarding (a) the initial creative urge, (b) the self-characterised “chaos” of mind from whence the impulse sprung, © the resulting graphic score, (d) the title-question which arose from the score, and (e) the doubt as to the actuality of that same question (and by extrapolation, every previous step in the process)! And was the work a suitably portentous, grandly-conceived, groaning-under-its-own-weight, aesthetically convoluted series of existential sound-structures, unerring in its progress towards self-annihilation? – after all, JS Bach’s Chaconne from his D MInor Partita, a work also for solo violin, was able to create a whole universe of structured sounds and potentialities.

Perhaps, in direct opposition to Bach’s “order in the midst of chaos” sublimities, Tom Jensen took us on a journey via Tabea Squire’s violin, into the dark heart of disorder – the “toneless tones” of the opening section was almost an “all is vanity” exposition of sounds left to cohere in the minds of the listener, with no direction from the composer as to how this “ought” to be. The sotto voce middle section brought to ear wraith-like voices, whose conflagrations of approximate pitch suggested an order and structure on the edge of day-to-day conventions, the occasional irruptions of tone like flint-sparks in the darkness. This all seemed to intensify in a concluding section whose “do I wake or sleep” disembodied ghostings had, I felt, taken me into the throes of my subconscious – an extraordinary evocation.

It needed John Adams to come to my rescue at the concert’s end, by way of a work called “American Standard” – a deconstructionist approach to popular American music forms. This was the first movement of that work, a March, called “John Philip Sousa” but with none of the celebrated March King’s wonderful tunes and swaggering rhythms – instead, the composer instructs that the musicians employ “a plodding pulse, with no melody or harmony”, in fact the inverse of what Sousa would have intended. The program note quoted Adams as saying that the piece sounded “like the retreat from battle of a badly-wounded army”. So it was a kind of subversion of original intent (like all good parodies, of course), this one being particularly disconcerting in effect, due to its dour, non-celebratory aspect, and its brief displays of angst (the occasional groan/shriek).

As TS Eliot observed, “not with a bang, but with a whimper” came the concert to its end – extraordinary stuff, and definitely not for the faint-hearted in places! I thought the playing used a kind of “unvarnished” quality to an engagingly spontaneous effect. Also effectively managed were the technical aspects of the presentation – I thought the screening of the graphic scores was a marvellous thing to do, indicative of the ensemble’s willingness to put itself out there and communicate its stuff – food for thought for all of us!

 

 

 

 

 

NZSM Classical Guitar students square up to a challenging recital

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New Zealand School of Music presents:
NZSM Classical Guitar Students

Lunchtime Concert Series
Old St.Paul’s, Wellington.

 Tuesday September 23rd, 2014

This brief concert was a welcome opportunity to hear again the talents of the NZSM Classical Guitar students under the tutelage of director Dr. Jane Curry. The full ensemble consisted of fifteen players, of whom four were guest members from the School’s pre-tertiary programme. The recital comprised a wide variety of works that spanned the “Golden Age” of Elizabethan lute music, the Baroque, and the 19th and 20th centuries.

The initial work, for full ensemble, was Three Distractions by Richard Charlton (b.1955). The first two short numbers involved lots of complex, irregular and syncopated rhythms, while the third was  marked by angular atonal writing with many percussive effects. It was a challenging piece, where the complexities were well handled and the integration of the large ensemble was excellent.

Then followed two duo numbers, firstly The Flatt Pavan and Galliard by John Johnson (1550-1594) who was one of the fathers of the “Golden Age” of English lute music. The characteristic graceful Elizabethan writing was well balanced by George Wills and Jake Church, with musical phrasing and good dynamic variation. The following Jongo for Two Guitars (1989) by Brazilian composer Paulo Bellinati was a total contrast where rhythmic complexities and clever percussive effects were also very effectively realized.

The bracket was completed by a duo version of Manuel da Falla’s unmistakable Spanish Dance which was given a very competent reading, though the quietest dynamics tended to disappear in the church’s acoustic, and some slightly untidy passagework popped up occasionally between the two players.

The next bracket comprised works for guitar quartet, with players Royden Smith, Dylan Solomon, Amber Madriaga and Christopher Beernink. The first work was Toccata by Leo Brouwer (b.1939), a Cuban player-composer who often combines “traditional forms with energetic, rhythmic flare resembling Cuban folk and street music. Brower’s compositional style is unique, consisting of a multitude of different sounds, techniques and cultures.” (programme notes). The Toccata was certainly busy with all of these, yet it somehow failed to grasp me in an integrated experience  that engaged the ear and led one on a musical journey. Its technical challenges were certainly met head on by the quartet, but some essential dimension seemed to have eluded the composer’s pen.

The next work was a transcription for guitar quartet of the opening sinfonia from Bach’s Cantata BWV 29 Wir danken dir, Gott, wir danken dir. Bach himself wrote three versions of this movement – the first for solo violin (in BVW 1006), then the cantata sinfonia scored for orchestra, and finally a transcription for solo lute (BVW 1006a). I have not heard this last, but I felt that this guitar version was simply not able to do justice to the wonderful contrapuntal writing. Its very life blood derives from the gutsy, incisive attack and timbre offered by bow, reed or trumpet, and the guitar can simply not produce this.

There may well be merit in pedagogic versions that test the technical capacities of players (which were very adequately demonstrated here), but it does not sit comfortably in a concert programme. However, this particular recital was serving as an assessed element of the university course, so the parameters are somewhat different.

Spin by Andrew York (b.1958) was next on the programme. It was a work that challenged the players with tricky rhythms shifting between 7/8, 3/4 and 4/4, and with complex busy writing, all of which they handled with technical aplomb. I felt however that the intricacies of Spin would have been given greater shape and meaning by a wider dynamic range and more thoughtful phrasing.

The final work in the programme was Folguedo by Afro-Brazilian guitarist/composer Celso Machado (b.1953). Scored for guitar orchestra, it was billed as “a gem of a piece [in] the canon of large guitar ensemble repertoire”. It proved to be just that: the first of the two movements was immediately attractive, featuring a guitar solo introduction which then blossomed into ensemble writing that was presented with pleasing balance and dynamics. The second movement involved a considerable complexity of rhythms, textures, interweaving lines and harmonies, which were all handled pretty competently. Once again I felt that the challenge of the technical demands tended to be uppermost in the performers’ minds, whereas a greater exploration of the dynamic possibilities would have considerably enriched the music.

But having said that, the work was presented with a verve and enthusiasm that was shared by all the ensembles heard in this recital, a feature which has marked all the concerts I have heard from this tertiary programme. The Old St. Paul’s venue offered a very suitable acoustic and ambience which further enhanced the privilege Wellington audiences enjoy from hearing the fruits of this excellent NZSM endeavour.

 

 

 

New Zealand String Quartet – soirée in a salon

Posted on by Peter Mechen

New Zealand String Quartet presents:
SALON SERIES 2014

Programme No.1
JS BACH – “Air” from Orchestral Suite No.3 / MOZART – String Quartet in C K.157
TCHAIKOVSKY – Andante Cantabile (from String Quartet No.1)
SHOSTAKOVICH – Polka (from “The Golden Age”) /CHOPIN (arr.Balakirev) – Etude Op.25 No.7
GARETH FARR – Mambo Rambo (from String Quartet “Mondo Rondo”)
PUCCINI – Crisantemi (Chrysanthemums) / SCHUBERT – String Quartet in E-flat D.87
BARBER – Adagio, for String Quartet / DVORAK – Waltz Op.54 No.2
bonus item: NATALIE HUNT- Data Entry Groove

New Zealand String Quartet
Helene Pohl, Douglas Beilman (violins)
Gillian Ansell (viola), Rolf Gjelsten (‘cello)

Prefab Hall Cafe, Jessie St., Wellington

Sunday, 21st September, 2014

I’ve reproduced above the entire programme played by the New Zealand String Quartet at its second Wellington “Salon Series” concert, to give readers who weren’t there an idea of the range and scope of the music performed – there was, literally, something for everybody, as the group’s intention was to put together a presentation that would charm the ear of the newcomer to chamber music as well as intrigue and delight the devotee with some out-of-the-ordinary arrangements for string quartet of repertoire from other genres.

I thought that, on all counts – content, style, ambience, setting and (not least of all) performance – the occasion was a great success. The venue – the Prefab Hall Cafe, in Wellington’s Jessie St. – helped give the venture the informality which the musicians wanted (Helene Pohl compared the occasion to the soirées which regularly featured at the salons of the early nineteenth-century). Things were further enlivened by the presence of significant numbers of young children accompanying parents and caregivers. The youngsters wriggled a bit during the more abstracted pieces, but their attentions were captured and delightfully ignited in places by the Quartet’s engaging delivery of a number of roisterous, ear-tickling items.

In overall terms the “bill of fare” had a pleasing lightness of touch, countered only by the seriousness of Samuel Barber’s well-known Adagio (as Douglas Beilman pointed out in his introduction to the piece, here played in its original form for string quartet!). Elsewhere, there was dignity (Bach’s G Major Air), charm (Dvorak’s Waltz Op.54 No.2) and romance (Balakirev’s arrangement of Chopin’s Etude Op.25 No.7, Tchaikovsky’s “Andante Cantabile” and Puccini’s “Crisantemi”), with some gorgeous high-jinks by way of contrast, from Shostakovich, Gareth Farr, and a late addition to the programme, a piece by up-and-coming New Zealand composer Natalie Hunt.

Two extended works completed the picture, both extremely happy choices, in each case the product of youthful exuberance and flourishing creative powers. In the first half, from 1772 came the third (K.157 in C Major) from a set of six string quartets by the seventeen year-old Mozart, called the “Milanese” Quartets through the young composer being in that city at the time, and simultaneously working on his opera Lucia Silla. After the interval we heard another complete quartet (which, to my surprise, I knew well) by the sixteen year-old Franz Schubert, dating from 1813 but published posthumously – it’s known as No.10 in E-flat, and by the Deutsch catalogue as D.87.

So, from the moment the players descended the stairway of the cafe’s mezzanine-floor, 1930s motion-picture style, we were enveloped in a veritable glow of contentment, and then, after quartet leader Helene Pohl had warmly welcomed us to the “salon”, held in thrall to the music-making. What better way to begin than with JS Bach at his most beguiling, the famous “Air” from the Third Orchestra Suite responding beautifully to the ministrations bestowed by four solo instruments? – the expressions of delight and wonderment upon the faces of some of the children sitting close to the musicians amply mirrored the enchantment of the sounds.

Being by this stage some way from childhood, the seventeen year-old “Wolfie” obviously knew what he was about – his C Major Quartet which followed featured a spirited and energetic set of first-movement exchanges, followed by an Andante whose deeply-felt beauties hinted at greater things which would follow in later works. It was here I noticed, especially in the work’s slow movement, that all the “bloom” of tone came more from the instruments themselves and not from the room – though not impossibly so, the ambience was dry-ish, and underlined by a “roomful of bodies” soaking up the sounds as gratefully and greedily as they could manage.

Once our ears got the “pitch of the hall” we could work and interact with the instruments at where they were and what it was possible for them to do. We were actually sitting so close to the musicians that such considerations mattered less that they mighty have in more “normal” concert surroundings. Thus the fun and gaiety of the Mozart quartet’s finale completely took us over, no small thanks to the playing’s infectious energies, conveying almost medicinal doses of enjoyment.

Tchaikovsky’s “Cantabile” is, like Samuel Barber’s aforementioned “Adagio”, also part of a complete string Quartet, in this case the first of the Russian composer’s three completed works in this genre. As with Barber’s work, this single “Andante Cantabile” movement has taken on a life of its own, most often in a string orchestra arrangement. Gillian Ansell, when introducing the work, told us how the great novellist Tolstoy was reputedly moved to tears by this music, disarmed by the composer’s clever alternation of a Russian folk-song with one of his own original melodies.

The same Tolstoy was to later famously rebuke the youthful Sergei Rachmaninov for writing music that was “not needed by anybody” – goodness only knows what the musically cranky author of War and Peace would have made of Shostakovich’s work! The Quartet’s inspired rendition of an arrangement for strings of the “Polka” from the ballet “The Golden Age” was a kind of show-stopper, instruments (and instrumentalists) taking up the composer’s invitation to “let their hair down”! To choose one instance – I’ve never heard a viola make the kinds of guttural utterances that at one point came from Gillian Ansell’s instrument! Younger audience members especially were agog throughout, relishing every outlandish squawk, crash, rustle and roar!

Still more surprise came with Mily Balakirev’s setting of a Chopin Etude (Op.25 No.7), Rolf Gjelsten’s ‘cello greatly relishing being given the piece’s original left-hand melody, and the other three instruments the right-handed figurations – all very Baroque-ish in spirit, if more Romantic in character. After this came a return to “original” string-quartet material, with Gareth Farr’s wonderful “Mambo Rambo”. The last movement of a String Quartet titled “Mondo Rondo”, the music has a definite exotic flavour – the composer has described the music as “like a drunk at a dinner party”, ie, continually falling over itself. Given the marked Middle-Eastern ambiences of the piece, the music certainly sounded if not drunk, at least high on hashish!

An interval allowed us some pleasant breathing-space before we were summonsed back to listen to Puccini’s lovely “Crisantemi” (Chrysanthemums). Written in 1890, the writing readily evoked the world of operatic duetting between soprano and tenor – in fact Puccini reused some of the material in his opera Manon Lescaut, written three years afterwards. More cheerful and lively was Schubert’s youthful String Quartet D.87, a work that I happened to know well, with its lovely opening echo-like phrase-endings and lyrical sequences which followed. The Scherzo featured a po-faced opening octave-plunge, and a cheeky, single, vagrant Haydnesque note, a kind of “ready now?” gesture, just before the beginning of each new paragraph, as well as a gorgeous “gondola-song” trio, filled with feeling.

I thought the “father of the string quartet” had a hand in the gorgeously played slow movement as well – here, elegance combined with song over the opening paragraphs, while repeated-note sequences tightened the piece’s tensions over the central sequences. But the finale capped off the pleasure for me –  a wonderful “cross-country chase”, with all kinds of terrain, gentle and angular, making its mark on the music’s rhythmic trajectories – in this performance the repeated-note sequences had real “point”, a physicality that readily suggested the character of that rhythmic progress, its territory and attendant delights and surprises.

Came the Barber “Adagio”, with the Quartet’s playing bringing forward as much angst as sorrow and reflectiveness – here, I felt the solo-part individual voices somehow had more tension and focus than in the more “cushioned” string orchestra version that I’ve gotten used to. Only with those searing near-stratospheric lines at the climax did I remember the sound produced by a string orchestra having anything like the intensity of a performance such as this. At a concert it was the kind of thing which required something else to come to our immediate emotional rescue (as Helene Pohl said immediately afterwards – “Well we can’t leave you feeling like that!”) – and Dvorak’s music was just the job.

This was a Waltz, listed as Op.54 No.2, a rousing, declamatory violin solo at the beginning getting the dance under way with an energetic whirl and a flourish! – what charm, what gaiety! – “an expression of joy close to tears” wrote one commentator of the Bohemian composer’s music, and this waltz was no exception, one to which the players gave their all, and roused our spirits to a state of joyous exhilaration. But that wasn’t all! – what Helene Pohl called a “bonus track” was thereupon served up to us for our “outward bound” delight, a piece by Natalie Hunt called “Data Entry Groove”, music which required the players to undertake certain stretching exercises while waiting for their turn to play, just as computer programmers would periodically do to avoid stress, fatigue and repetitive strain injury!

The piece was quirky, jazzy and entirely therapeutic, and a gift for Rolf Gjelsten, whose “star turn” on the ‘cello was acknowledged, jazz-solo style, by Helene Pohl, and by appropriate and responsive  applause. It left all of us in an excellent and energized frame of mind, perhaps putting back a lot of what the previous day’s General Election would have drained away, one way or another. Thank goodness for music in times of national crisis – but more to the point, thank goodness for the New Zealand String Quartet! – we were truly appreciative of the various skills and communicative warmth of the players, bestowing on us what seemed like a string of exquisite gifts, entirely for our pleasure.

 

NZSM’s “A Night at the Opera” generates a feast

Posted on by Peter Mechen

Te Kōkī New Zealand School of Music presents:
A NIGHT AT THE OPERA

Arias, Ensembles and Scenes from Opera
performed by the NZSM Classical Voice Students

Katrina Brougham, Alicia Cadwgan, Emma Carpenter, Declan Cudd, Georgia Fergusson
Jospeh Haddow, Elyse Hemara, Jamie Henare, Rebecca Howan, Luana Howard
Rebecca Howie, Hannah Jones, Brooks Kershaw, Aluapei Kolopeaua, Priya Makwana
Olivia Marshall, William McElwee Katherine McEndoe, Nino Raphael, Tess Robinson
Olivia Sheat, Daniel Sun, Christian Thurston, Shayna Tweed, Luka Venter.

Director: Frances Moore
Music Director: Mark Dorrell
Repetiteur: Heather Easting
Designer: Alexander Guillot
Lighting: Lisa Maule

Adam Concert Room, Kelburn Campus
Te Kōkī New Zealand School of Music
Victoria University of Wellington

Friday 19th September 2014

Earlier last week I had the good fortune to catch Radio NZ Concert’s “Upbeat” interview with Margaret Medlyn, one of the tutors of Classical Voice at the NZ School of Music in Wellington. She spoke about the then oncoming “Night at the Opera” presentation involving the voice students and featuring arias and ensembles from well-known operas and operettas. She said that the concert’s semi-staged aspect with costumes and lighting was especially valuable for the younger students, as it gave them a chance to experience a theatrical context in which to perform and to put into practice what they had been studying. But she also thought that all the performers as well as the audience would relish the theatrical aspects of the presentation, adding value and interest to the musical experience.

The presentation was in the capable hands of director Frances Moore, a former first-class-honours student at the School of Music here, and subsequently a Fulbright Scholar at New York University, while working as an assistant director with the Manhattan School of Music’s Summer programme. She’s returned to New Zealand to continue studies at Toi Whakaari, and pursue a career as a director of opera. Here, she certainly made the most of the depth and diverse range of talents among the student performers, encouraging them to relish their opportunities by singing out and giving themselves up entirely to their characters and their interactions. She was aided and abetted by Alexandra Guillot’s inventive set and costume designs, and Lisa Maule’s very appropriate, on-the-spot (sic) lighting, both helping to bring the different scenarios of each item to life.

I’d recently attended and much enjoyed “Der Rosenkavalier” in a “scaled-down” performance edition out at Days Bay, courtesy of music director Michael Vinten, so I was more than usually receptive to the similar treatment accorded tonight’s items – the normally orchestral accompaniments were by turns brilliantly realized by pianists Mark Dorrell and Heather Easting, giving the singers, whether solo or in ensemble, complete security of support at all times, the playing’s energy and sense of fun creating many delightful and alchemic moments. I couldn’t see the pianist(s) from where I was sitting in the Adam Concert Room, but I understood that Heather Easting provided the Britten, Mozart, Donizetti and Puccini accompaniments.

Technically, the items went with a hiss and a roar, with only a handful of unsynchronised ensemble moments disturbing the flow, and which the performers simply pulled together again with confidence and élan. The concert began with an excerpt from Offenbach’s Orpheus in the Underworld, sung in English, and designated as “Act One – finale” in the programme – as I later found, trying to pinpoint that same sequence on a “complete” recording I had of the operetta led to all kinds of discrepancies and confusions which suggested that the work had been mercilessly “hacked about” over the years, and with all kinds of “performing editions” emerging from the fracas. Comparing notes on this matter with Mark Dorrell a day or so later considerably relieved my confusion, and restored my faith in my ears!

The gods as presented here were a rum lot, indeed, with delightfully ungodlike characteristics shining forth for all to savour – each singer relished his or her opportunities, most notably Alicia Cadwgan’s delightfully kittenish Diana and Christian Thurston’s suitably machoistic Jupiter, the perfect foil for the suave Pluto of Declan Cudd, whose manner, apart from his highest notes, was easeful and insinuating, causing a sonorous and forthright rebellion among the ranks of Olympus’s celestial inhabitants! It made me long to see and hear a performance of the complete work, whatever the edition and its corruptions and inconsistencies!

From the fripperies of Offenbach’s satire to the stark realities of Britten’s “Peter Grimes” was a quantum leap for the sensibilities, a “plunge-bath after a sauna” effect, whose marked contrast worked extremely well. This was the quartet sequence “From the gutter” from Act Two of the opera, showcasing the voices of Olivia Marshall, Hannah Jones, Rebecca Howan, and, as Ellen Orford, Katherine McEndoe. Olivia Marshall in particular, as Auntie, impressed with the beauty and steadiness of her line, ably supported by her nieces Hannah Jones and Rebecca Howan; while Katherine McEndoe as Ellen engaged our attention with her strength and focus of utterance. The voices in ensemble readily conveyed that stricken, passionate quality called for by the music – beauty of a disturbing, intensely-wrought kind.

Intensities of a different order were generated by the Act One “Padlock” Scene from Mozart’s The Magic Flute, leading to those exchanges between Tamino and Papageno and the Three Ladies that must be among the most beautiful of all operatic moments. First we had Luka Venter as Papageno with his powers of speech bound by enchantment, his frustration and eventual relief at being released warmly and amusingly conveyed. The Three Ladies, Shanya Tweed, Elyse Hemara and Georgia Fergusson, were terrific! – in fact, a little too much so, in fact, as they needed more light and shade, more ease in their singing – but they were still admirably focused, direct and transfixing in their impact.

Declan Cudd as Tamino, along with Luka Venter, his Papageno, gave us a bit more of the lightness of touch that the music needed – but I was waiting (as I always do) for that lump-in-throat moment begun by the wind instruments in complete performances of the opera, when the women sing about the Three Boys who will guide Tamino and Papageno along their appointed journey. Here, I thought the utterances from all concerned were too rushed, wanting the air and space which would generate a certain “charged” quality, as if, for a moment, creation had paused to witness here a kind of celestial laying-on of hands. The scene still worked its magic – and I did like the appearance of the three “Knaben” high up in the balcony at that point, opening the vistas in a way that the music so beautifully suggests.

I was delighted that we got the chorus “Comes a train of little ladies”  from Sullivan’s “The Mikado” as well as the “Three Little Maids from School” – in the opening chorus the voices truly caught that sense of rapturous wonderment at the words “And we wonder, how we wonder….”, with marvellous surges of tone, and a beautiful dying fall at the end. It was the perfect foil for the “three little maids”, Hannah Jones’s Yum-Yum strong and focused, but the others (Katherine McEndoe and Rebecca Howan) closely in attendance. Their three-pronged exuberance  mischievously nudged and poked at the figure of the bemused Pooh-Bah, who declined (perhaps by way of protesting a little too much!) to “dance and sing” as the three girls confessed (“So, please you Sir, we much regret”) they were, by nature, apt to do. Jamie Henare, strong-voiced as Pooh Bah, had a fine time not quite completely evading their clutches!

The first-half closer, appropriately enough the finale of Act One of Rossini’s “Il Barbiere di Siviglia”, was an ambitious piece of singing and staging which, thanks to plenty of energy, wit and engaging vocal characterisation, backed up by strongly-focused direction and presentation, came across to us most entertainingly. William McElwee’s Count Almaviva was delightful, dramatically outlandish and vocally sweet, if just a bit coloratura-shy in places, while Brooks Kershaw’s Bartolo/Barbaro/Bertoldo responded with plenty of appropriate puzzlement and stupefaction at the count’s appearance as a drunken soldier. Alicia Cadwgan’s Rosina charmed us from the beginning with her quicksilver responses regarding the “letter business”, the characters readily catching the “spin” of the composer’s interactions in their adroitly-dovetailed ensemble.

The arrival of Figaro (Christian Thurston), along with Don Basilio (Jamie Henare) and Berta (Tess Robinson) properly galvanised things to the point where the police were called, and an exciting, tarantella-like ensemble swept us all along, emotions bubbling, simmering and seething with everything ranging from pleasure to bewilderment, ensemble thrills and spills treated as part of the experience. As its riotous way unfolded we were thoroughly engaged by the goings-on – I don’t think the most polished professional presentation could have given us more pleasure than we got here from these exuberant and fearless young performers!

A different kind of sophistication awaited us after the interval with Sondheim’s “A Little Night Music”, the scenario allowing Emma Carpenter’s voice to shine as Anne, both solo, and combining nicely in duet with Alicia Cadwgan’s Petra. Hannah Jones turned in an alluring Desiree, while as a couple Christian Thurston’s robust Carl-Magnus and Tess Robinson’s stratospheric Charlotte also gave pleasure. The performance caught the piece’s essentially “chic” surface nature while allowing us glimpses of the characters beneath the precarious facades – most enjoyable.

“Donizetti’s wonderful Don Pasquale” read the programme-note, and the music certainly lived up to the effusive introduction – this was a committed, no-holds-barred performance of the duet “Tornami a dir” (Tell me once more), which the composer styled as a “nocturne”, performed by Declan Cudd and Olivia Marshall. The former’s tone was freer and fuller in his lower register, though none of his high passages were shirked – while his opposite, Olivia Marshall, brought a confident and secure voice to the music given Norina, his sweetheart. For me, at any rate, the couple’s fervour and commitment easily carried the day.

Back to Mozart and his “Magic Flute” we went, this time with the Three Boys (Olivia Sheat, Luana Howard and Rebecca Howie) very much in vocal focus, delightfully attired in “Davy Crockett from Bavaria” style hats, and turning their tones in well-wrought ensemble towards dissuading Pamina from taking her life over her Prince Tamino’s apparent rejection of their love. As with the excerpt from “Peter Grimes” Katherine McIndoe impressed upon the memory with her focused commitment to the character, conveying her confused emotions with plenty of force and immediacy.

I thought the Rossini ensemble as we saw and heard just before the interval would be hard to beat, but the company at least matched its earlier achievement with the evening’s concluding item, a colourful and heartfelt delivery of the Waltz-Song and Soldiers’ March from Act Two of Puccini’s “La Boheme”. It all came vibrantly together – Tess Robinson’s appealing Musetta floated the insinuations of her melody quite irresistibly, at first angering her estranged lover, Marcello (Christian Thurston), and then winning him back over, to the annoyance of her elderly escort  Alcindoro (a lovely cameo from Nino Raphael), and the amusement of the watching Bohemians.

Though there wasn’t much for them to do as spectators, William McElwee’s Rodolfo and Hannah Jones’s Mimi looked and sounded lovely together, while Luca Venter’s Schaunard and Jamie Henare’s Colline amply completed the Bohemian contingent. Then as the military band approached, it was indeed “half the population of Paris” which seemed to be milling around on the stage as if on holiday, the contingent then marching off to the concluding bars of Puccini’s music in grand style.

All credit to the NZ School of Music’s Classical Voice Faculty and to the students whose performances this evening would have richly justified their tutors’ efforts – it was a great show, whose creative flair and sense of occasion lifted it far above the conventional hotch-potch method of random assemblage of  “vocal gems”, and produced something really worthwhile and memorable. I’m sure Margaret Medlyn, for one, would have been delighted.

Nota Bene splendidly celebrates its 10th Anniversary

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Nota Bene – 10th Anniversary Concert

Choral music by numerous composers (including a new commission from David Hamilton)

Nota Bene, directed by Christine Argyle
Items conducted by Peter de Blois and Julian Raphael
Emma Sayers (piano), Penny Miles (bassoon)
Geoff Robinson, compere

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

Sunday, 14 September 2014, 4.30pm

I was sorry that Nota Bene chamber choir chose to sing on a Sunday – Chamber Music New Zealand had that day also joined the Sunday afternoon gang (in the latter’s case, 5pm), so I could not attend both concerts.  Next Sunday (21 September) there are no fewer than five classical music concerts in and around Wellington; Middle C cannot review them all, and to the extent that the audiences will inevitably overlap to some extent, the individual audiences will be smaller than they might otherwise have been.

However, all praise to Nota Bene and Christine Argyle for a wonderfully diverse concert, made somewhat sad by the fact that the latter is giving up her music directorship.  How she has managed to undertake all the activities she enumerated in an interview with Eva Radich on Wednesday, on Upbeat! (RNZ Concert), I do not know.  She is obviously good at both preparation and organisation.

The concert was made up of items from various concerts performed by the choir over the period of its existence.  Some original members are still with the choir, and some of the songs were performed at the first concert.  Some singing in this concert were former members invited to return for the occasion.  After the performance the choir launched its first CD, made up of items from the concerts of the past that had been broadcast by Radio New Zealand Concert, some of the  items being those that were performed on Sunday.

It all amply demonstrated the eclecticism of the choir, its variety of skills and its ability to be flexible and responsive to very different periods, styles and genres.  An innovation was a screen showing colour photos of the choir at the time of each concert from which an excerpt was performed.  Compère Geoff Robinson (former presenter on Radio New Zealand National) told us some of the choir’s history, and related information regarding the works and their performances, along with a few anecdotes, prior to each couple of items.  A tendency to drop his voice at the ends of phrases meant that I did not hear everything he said.  There was a good attendance, the body of the church being nearly full, with a handful of people sitting in the gallery.

Christine Argyle, using a tuning fork, gave the notes for each part prior to each item (most were unaccompanied); a striking feature was that the choir began, and continued, bang in tune every time.

Many of the items were in English, nevertheless all words were printed in the programme, in English, regardless of original language.  The huge diversity of songs ranged from the straight-forward to complex, multi-part items.  Some, like the opening two Flower Songs by Benjamin Britten sounded simple, but as I know from experience, are not so.  Although the choir’s diction was very good, in multi-part items it is inevitable that not all the words will be heard.  Britten chose fine poetry to set, as did others of the composers, so it was good to be able to read it, as an enhancement to understand the musical settings.

Throughout, the choir had a lovely smooth, blended tone.  The acoustics of St. Andrew’s enhanced the sound more than is the case with some venues in which I have heard Nota Bene.

After a change of mood for Purcell’s complex setting of  ‘Hear my Prayer, O Lord’ sung with almost perfect expression and phrasing and Holst’s ‘Ave Maria’ (in Latin, gorgeously rendered), we returned to English poetry for John Rutter’s setting of Shakespeare’s well known ‘It was  lover and his lass’from As You Like It.  Like most of Rutter’s music, it was a joyful piece, this time in a popular swing style, and given a very fine performance.

A couple of traditional songs followed, one French (Provençal) and one in English.  Geoff Richards’s arrangement of ‘Le Baylère’ (alias ‘Bailèro’) incorporated sumptuous harmony and suspensions.  Whether it was sung in French (as implied by the title) or Provençal I could not tell, but it received a wonderful performance.  ‘Brigg Fair’ arranged by Percy Grainger is well-known.  It featured young tenor soloist Griffin Madill Nichol, a member of the choir.  His voice was right for a folk song, and he did his part well, backed by the humming choir.  Crescendi and decrescendi were beautifully managed.

Now to a less well-known piece: ‘Les Sirènes’ by the talented but all too short-lived French composer Lili Boulanger (1893–1918).  The choral piece was sung by the women (in French) in two physically separate choirs, and contained a solo for splendid mezzo Natalie Williams; it was accompanied by pianist Emma Sayers.  The piano part conveyed the movement of water, with shimmering arpeggios and broken chords.

Ben Oakland’s ‘Java Jive’ brought a complete change of mood, and was sung from memory by a small group, with solos (and repeated at the end of the concert as an encore by the entire choir); it was brilliantly done, its clashes of harmony confidently and resolutely prominent.

Last before the interval was a traditional South African piece, led by Julian Raphael, that buoyant choral supremo, who played a maraca while the choir, singing from memory, incorporated movement in its loud and energetic performance.  The singers managed to sound really like Africans.

After the break, another guest conductor who has directed the choir’s concerts in the past, Peter de Blois, conducted the Kyrie from New Zealander Sam Piper’s Requiem and ‘Song for Athene’ by John Tavener.  The former was a lively piece with good melody lines from the altos in the Kyrie section; focus of the melody changed for the Christe section.  Tavener’s work introduced very fine pianissimo singing – long-breathed lines with a hummed background.  It was a very accomplished performance.  The words were elevated indeed – but not all were printed.

In calm and meditative mood was the ‘Ave Maris Stella’ of Edvard Grieg (sung in Latin).  Only here was I aware of a mid-verse entry where the voices were not together – most unusual. This, and the remaining items, were conducted by Christine Argyle.

Ivan Hrušovský (1927–2001) was a Slovak composer. His ‘Rytmus’, a Latin piece, was very fast, the choir having to spit out the words, but in accordance with the title, there were many emphases and accents.

Now came two New Zealand works: firstly, ‘Ursula at Parakakariki’ (which is on Banks Peninsula) by Carol Shortis.  It began with sea sounds on a special kind of percussion shaker played by one of the choir, and was accompanied by Emma Sayers, interspersed with passages for bassoon.  Both the music and the Fiona Farrell poem were quite delightful, yet complex, with seemingly independent choral lines parting and converging.  Although it was announced along with the next item, spontaneous applause burst out.  The composer was present, and acknowledged the applause.

Present, too, was David Hamilton, to hear the performance of the piece commissioned by the choir for this occasion: ‘Canción de Invierno’ (Songs of Winter), his setting of a text by Juan Ramón Jiménez, was about birds singing from somewhere, despite leafless trees.  It began with syllables only being sounded, then Natalie Williams sang a solo while the choir continued the syllables.  All joined in later to sing about singing.  Superb dynamics built up to an astonishing double forte.  In the final section there were solo voices above a general hubbub.  This was a thrilling performance of an exciting work, despite a little lack of unanimity in the final section for solos.  Someone remarked to me after the concert that other choirs will want to get their hands on this music.

Something completely different was Mendelssohn’s enchanting chorus from Elijah: ‘He, watching over Israel’.  Its wondrous harmonies, modulations and unexpected melodic twists were beautifully realised; in fact, with the wonderful dynamics and expression, I would call this a moving and almost perfect performance.

Finally, two contemporary composers’ works: ‘Lux Aurumque’ by American Eric Whitacre, and ‘The Shepherd’s Carol’ by Briton Bob Chilcott.  The former was a very imaginative piece of choral writing, but quite tricky, with close intervals, while the latter was very melodic, but again with challenging harmony.

This has been a great ten years!  Congratulations to the amateur choir that has it all. It is hard to pick up highlights from such a varied concert with a choir that is a triumph of skill and excellent singing.  May Nota Bene go from strength to strength under a new music director, and full praise to Christine Argyle who has led it, even choosing the programmes when she was not conducting, with flair, imagination and skill.

Eggner Trio and Amihai Grosz win all hearts

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Chamber Music New Zealand presents:
EGGNER TRIO WITH AMIHAI GROSZ (viola)

Mozart Piano Quartet No 2 in E flat K493
Schumann Piano Trio No 3 in G minor Opus 110
Anthony Ritchie Oppositions
Dvořák Piano Quartet No 2 in E flat Opus 87

Michael Fowler Centre, Wellington

Sunday 14 September 2014

The Eggner sibling trio of Georg (violin), Florian (cello) and Christoph (piano) presented this programme with viola player, Amihai Grosz, Principal Viola of the Berlin Philharmonic and a founding member of the Jerusalem String Quartet.

I had not heard the Eggner group before, but from the very opening lines of the Mozart it was obvious why they are firmly established in the forefront of chamber ensembles today. Viola associate Amihai Grosz melded seamlessly into the mix, and shared obviously in the pleasure they clearly enjoy in making music together.

The phrasing, tone and sensitivity of the melodic conversation that unfolds in the opening Allegro of the Mozart revealed a profound musicianship and impeccable polish that continued to mark the whole work, and indeed the entire programme.  The three movements of the Mozart score give wide scope to display the artistry of the tenderest melody making, for bold tempestuous interplay between competing instruments, for whimsical or thoughtful moods by turn, and the players made the most of every opportunity that this masterpiece offers.

Schumann’s Piano Trio no.3 is a rather turbulent work, where melodic motifs are often brief and frequently interrupted as they are exchanged or developed. The first movement is indeed marked “bewegt” (turbulent) and all three instruments are given the opportunity to participate fully in the dramatic, restless writing. The  tranquil second movement was a wonderful contrast that showcased some glorious melodic playing, before the vigour and strength of the two final movements, where the players explored every turn of the rich colour and variation. One could not fail to sense a level of mutual understanding that has had the chance to blossom in this trio group over many years of family music making.

Anthony Ritchie’s Oppositions was composed in 2005 for the NZ Piano Quartet. The composer’s programme notes explain that “It is in one movement, and is based around the idea of opposing forces, whether they be literal or imaginative. In musical terms, the piano is frequently pitted against the strings………..”. There is a lot of violent, strident, percussive writing, contrasted sometimes with more lyrical episodes, but the work is marked throughout by restless, abrasive tonalities that further heighten the tension and conflict between the various instrumental idioms. There is an outpouring of anger and violence that is clearly intended, and the players threw themselves into it with total commitment.

One felt both mentally and musically assaulted by the clash of the “Oppositions”, but for me the vivid descriptive qualities of the “music” became, frankly, overwhelming. While it was a very effective foil between two highly romantic items, I was relieved when the work ended, ungrateful as that may be of Richie’s acknowledged skills as a composer.

The Dvorak Piano Quartet no.2 is a heroic work in this genre, which the programme notes aptly described: “The work displays a melodic invention, rhythmic vitality and instrumental colour typical of the nationalist Dvorak at his peak……….”  The quartet threw themselves into the music with tremendous vigour and polish, displaying a huge dynamic range across the widely contrasting episodes which stretch from the most wistful delicacy to the almost symphonic proportions of the finale.

It was a riveting delivery that brought huge accolades from the audience, who were treated to an encore of the slow movement from Brahms’ E Minor Piano 4tet. The long opening cello melody was quite breathtaking, and made me wish for an opportunity to hear Florian Eggner in a sonata recital setting, where every note of his masterful playing would be heard. There had been times during the concert when, from our seats, it had been difficult to discern the cellist clearly, even though he had clearly been playing his heart out. It will be good when the Town Hall is again available for chamber music concerts, as such situations might well be taken care of there.

 

Douglas Mews at the organ – St.John’s, Willis St

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

St.John’s, Willis St. Organ Concerts presents:
Organ recital by Douglas Mews

Handel: Concerto in G minor Op.4 no.3 (arranged for organ solo)
Vierne: Arabesque; Cathédrales
Bach:   Sonata C minor, BWV 526 / Chorale Prelude: O Mensch bewein’ dein sunde gross, BWV 402
Prelude and Fugue in E flat, BWV 552

Douglas Mews (organ)
St John’s, Willis Street

Sunday, 14 September 2014, 2.30pm

St. John’s Church is hosting three organ recitals this month, on Sunday afternoons, of which this was the first.  They celebrate National Organ Month, and also are a vehicle for raising money for the upkeep of the fine Lewis organ at St. John’s.

Unfortunately, on this Sunday and the next, there are numerous competing concerts.  Thus, a rather small audience was little reward for the work that had gone into preparing the recital.

The programme opened with a Handel organ concerto, arranged to be played on organ only.  While I found the first movement (adagio) a little bland, and there were a few fluffed notes in the allegro second, throughout the work Douglas Mews made lovely use of solo stops.  I would have liked a little more detachment of repeated notes.  The third movement was a fine adagio, and the jaunty finale was a happy eompletion of the work.

In his remarks to the audience, Douglas pointed up the fact that an early organist at St. John’s was Maughan Barnett, who was involved in many musical activities in Wellington before he moved to Auckland.  He was the first Wellington City Organist; Douglas himself was the last.  The position is currently in abeyance; the Town Hall organ is in storage while the hall is closed pending earthquake strengthening.  (As one who was emerging from that building at the time of Wellington’s worst earthquake in recent years, I am all for it being strengthened!)

Two short pieces by Louis Vierne proved to be most effective.  The first featured a most attractive contrasting solo stop for the melody line.  The second was perhaps inspired by Notre Dame in Paris, where Vierne was organist for 37 years.  The piece was a complete contrast to the light delicacy and high pitch of Arabesque.  Here, there was grandeur, following an opening on reeds.  I could imagine the tolling of cathedral bells in some sections of the piece.  It contrasted mellow tones with almost harsh, loud chords.  Later, there were gentle, dulcet tones and rather more conventional harmony.

Apparently Barnett played all of the Bach organ music that was available; this was unusual at the time: 1895-1913 being the years he was in Wellington.  This information acted as a link to the playing of Trio Sonata in C minor, BWV 526.  These sonatas are thought to have been written for Bach’s son Wilhelm Friedmann to use for practising keyboard technique. But they are in no way tedious exercises, being full of delights; the clarity of the three parts, their thematic development, and their artistic unity are among them.

The vivace first movement introduced charming flute sounds, but the pedal part sounded woofy compared with the upper parts, in fact this was a characteristic elsewhere in the recital also.  In the largo second movement I felt rather more phrasing was required.  The allegro finale had the three parts all very clear and the contrasting registrations between the two upper parts were very fine.

Bach’s sublime Passiontide chorale prelude (for which the chorale words were printed in the programme, in Catherine Winkworth’s translation – coincidentally, in Radio NZ’s ‘Hymns on Sunday Morning’ that morning, she and other translators of hymns from other languages were featured.  I did not particularly like the rather buzzy reed stop used for the melody line, and I would have preferred more even quavers, and more lift between repeated notes.  Yet the expressiveness of the piece could not fail to impress.

The last item was a considerable tour de force.  The opening Prelude and the closing Fugue of Bach’s Clavierübung are often coupled together, and in English tend to be called the “St. Anne” Prelude and Fugue, because of the likeness of the fugue’s melody to the tune of that name, set to the well-known hymn ‘O God, our help in ages past’.

The fast opening of the prelude has a strong dotted rhythm, well emphasised by Mews.  The fugue melody needed more phrasing, to my mind – as though it were being sung.  Nevertheless, Douglas Mews brought off this demanding fugue, with its three separate sections (thought, with other features of the work, to represent the Trinity).

The demanding programme brought to the fore many features of the St. John’s organ, and demonstrated a range of great music for the instrument, ably performed.

The organ recital next Sunday at the same time will be by Kevin Duggan, visiting from Denmark, and the following week Dianne Halliday, organist and director of music at St. Peter’s Anglican Church, also in Willis Street, will perform, along with Chelsea Whitfield.