Month: June 2015

Te Koki Trio at Waikanae balances Schubert’s E flat trio with trios by Psathas and Fanny Mendelssohn

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Waikanae Music Society

Fanny Mendelssohn: Piano trio in D minor, Op.11
John Psathas: Three Island Songs
Schubert: Piano trio no.2 in E flat, D.929

Te Koki Trio (Martin Riseley, violin; Inbal Megiddo, cello; Jian Liu, piano)

Waikanae Memorial Hall

Sunday 28 June 2015, 2.30pm

It was excellent to find a work of Fanny Mendelssohn’s on the programme – so often neglected in comparison with her famous brother, and someone who could well have gone on to greater things had she not died at only 42.  The Chamber Music New Zealand 2015 brochure informs me that the Te Koki Trio will play works by Clara Schumann and Gillian Whitehead this year also, playing in 9 regional centres, and Wellington.

The gentle, lyrical opening of the trio from the violin with the other instruments accompanying, was followed by the piano taking over the lead.  Then a wistful cello melody is interspersed with other figures, taking turns.  Rapid arpeggio and scale passages from the piano were tastefully and beautifully played by Jian Liu.  The first movement had a fiery ending.

The second movement was most expressive, with a rather sad theme.  A duet between the two strings followed, accompanied by piano.  There were rich phrases from the cello, and light and airy ones from the piano, then rising passion for both, before a quiet conclusion.  The short song of the third movement began on piano; ‘a charming Song Without Words’, said the programme note.

The finale started with an extended piano solo and after interesting themes, ended in spirited fashion.  The work proved Fanny Mendelssohn to be a worthy composer.

John Psathas is one of New Zealand’s most noted composers, currently.  The title of his work, though referring to the Greek islands of his ancestry, recalls A Song of Islands, a work of Douglas Lilburn’s, from 1946.

It started with the strings in unison, over a repeated rhythmic pattern on the piano, the dynamics ebbing and swelling.  The strings were played alternately with bow and pizzicato, then the music changed to quite a jazzy yet soulful mode.  The second song featured pizzicato cello, perhaps remembering the Greek bouzouki.  Quiet violin and piano accompanied, before all joined in a little later in a robust, angular passage that slowly faded on cello and piano, before a return to the pizzicato cello against slow violin and piano, as at the opening.

The third song had a loud, insistent rhythm at the start.  There was much repetition, and another very rhythmic pattern at the end. These were fine, lively pieces – with a character completely different from our opening work.

After the interval a very substantial chamber trio by Schubert.  This was a familiar work, but the Te Koki Trio gave it a freshness.  After the opening salvo, the lovely first theme rippled deliciously from the instruments; its development likewise.  The shimmering piano accompaniment was delightfully and thoughtfully played by Jian Liu, accompanying this and the following theme.

The second movement opened with a fabulous melody from the cello, against a slow walking accompaniment from the other two instruments.  Then it was the piano’s turn to take the tune with the strings accompanying.  Schubert’s treatment of his themes demonstrates his amazing genius in the field of chamber music.  Marvellous final cadences simply but poignantly echoed the opening notes of the main theme.

The scherzo and trio movement revealed that the playing was not flawless, but the few flaws did little to detract from the effect of the fine music.  The rumbustious trio was followed by the return of the scherzo theme.  The writing is taut yet very melodic, and puts the instruments in equal partnership.

There was yet more melody in the finale.  A joyful, even triumphant mood featured modulation, touches of humour and even pathos.  The return of the andante’s theme was accompanied by cascades on the piano and pizzicato from the violin, unexpected twists and turns, stops and restarts.  Schubert does take quite a long while to end many of his works!  Nevertheless, this was a masterful performance of a magnificent work.

As an encore, the trio played the lively second movement (Pantoum) from Ravel’s Piano Trio, composed in 1914.

As usual, there was a healthy-sized audience, although not as many people as I have seen there in the recent past.

 

 

Wellington Chamber Orchestra rounds on Beethoven with Mozart

Posted on by Peter Mechen

Wellington Chamber Orchestra presents
MOZART – Ouvertüre “Die Entführung aus dem Serail”
Symphony No.38 “Prague”
BEETHOVEN – Piano Concerto No.3 in C Minor

Diedre Irons (piano)
Chris van der Zee (conductor)
Wellington Chamber Orchcestra

St Andrew’s on-the-Terrace, Wellington

Sunday 28th June 2015

This concert got off to one of the most thrilling beginnings of any I’ve seen this year, with a no-holds-barred explosion of percussion erupting and pinning back our ears during the first few bars of Mozart’s famous Il Seraglio Overture, also known by its German title of Die Entführung aus dem Serail.

Played with great precision and plenty of verve, the “Turkish” instruments (bass drum, triangle and cymbals) here simply saturated the airwaves with scintillating noise, as the composer intended. The opera having being set in a Turkish harem, Mozart was giving the public the exotic kinds of sounds that would have been expected from a work with such associations.

The orchestra’s more conventional sections also did their bit to enhance the music’s energy, colour, and high spirits. Conductor and orchestra brought off the contrasts between the music’s “soft and loud” sections with considerable skill throughout. The central “wistful Andante” was played with great tenderness and nicely-pointed oboe phrases, helping to make the return of the “Janissary” (the Turkish element) just as exciting and colourful as before. Altogether the performance was a great success, drawing enthusiastic and committed playing from the orchestra.

More serious business was then addressed by the musicians in the form of Beethoven’s C Minor Piano Concerto, the composer’s third such work. Very properly the programme’s notes referred to Beethoven’s admiration for one of Mozart’s piano concerti in a similar key, K.491, and how this regard was reflected by the similarities of Beethoven’s work to that of the older composer.

I was pleased to also read a reference in the programme to the recordings of these concerti made in 2003 and 2004 by the soloist, Diedre Irons, with the Christchurch Symphony conducted by Marc Taddei, for Trust Records. Available as individual discs or as a set from Trust Records, PO Box 10-143, Wellington, 6143 – or via e-mail at info@trustcds.com, the performances are well worth anybody’s investigation.

Nobody who knew the recordings would have expected anything less than what Diedre Irons gave us that afternoon – a sonorous, well-rounded realization of the solo part, as naturally “integrated” with the orchestra’s contribution as any intelligent conversation between two people, serious of purpose to begin with (first movement), then long-breathed and lyrical of expression over the middle movement’s vistas, before playfully interweaving strands of philosophic utterance with moments of rude vigour and determination throughout the finale, “comedy of a sardonic sort” as the programme-note writer so well put it.

Conductor Chris van der Zee supported his soloist with all the intent he and the orchestra could muster, holding the textures of the instrumental sections together and achieving sonorous and coherent balances – the wind soloists, in particular clarinet, bassoon and flute, had sensitive and eloquent moments of interplay with the piano, and the timpanist was a tower of rhythmic strength and support whenever called upon. The opening tutti set the scene for the grandest possible entry from the soloist, and we in the audience weren’t disappointed.

A by-product of the orchestra’s very forward placement in the church, to the front of the “chancel” area, meant that the piano was placed so far forward as to render the soloist invisible to everybody sitting upstairs in the organ gallery save those in the first row of seats. Being one of those people held up by unexpected traffic, I found myself upstairs, and without a “view” of the keyboard. Fortunately, my experience at the London “Proms”, where one often found oneself standing for the entire concert, was helpful at this point, taking as I did a vantage point to the side and remaining on my feet so I could see the pianist.

Of course I could have merely settled back in my seat and enjoyed the sound of Diedre Irons’ playing – but she’s one of those pianists who communicates such a great deal with deportment, expression and gesture at the keyboard, so that the experience of “hearing” her live seems incomplete unless these things can be observed. What comes across is a kind of totality, which in a broadcast or recording of music is left to the imagination to supply – the expressions, the gesturings, the physical means used to create the musical sounds. Here, from my somewhat “birds-eye” view I saw the performance’s world and was drawn into its absorbing plethora of attitudes, moods and feelings.

After the interval I could resume my seat (a few leanings-forward in places notwithstanding) and enjoy the rather more contained aspect of a well-known classical symphony, in this case Mozart’s work known as the “Prague”, Symphony No.38 in D major K.504. In the space of three movements only, Mozart treats us to one of the happiest and most festive of his large-scale symphonic works, the nickname “Prague” referring to the success the symphony experienced when performed in that city. The orchestra, here, though seemingly reluctant in places throughout the opening to really “attack” the opening notes of their phrases and thus establish a strong rhythm, seemed to move up a notch in the first movement’s development section, hitting their stride with confidence, getting sonorous support from the horns, and making sure the “payoff” points of the work came across well (the timpani again strong and reliable at such times).

Better-focused overall was the slow movement, kept moving nicely and lightly by the conductor, and registering the often markedly-detailed dynamics – the winds as an ensemble did particularly well, here, I thought, the oboes especially doing a lovely “middle textures” job of it. The music generated oceans of warmth and poise by turns, thanks to the sensitivity and style of the playing.

Just as enjoyable was the finale, the opening eager and bustling, the players seemingly “onto it” – a lovely, chattering aspect from the winds brought theatrical characters to our minds and accompanying smiles to our faces as the different personalities came and went. The music’s sometimes abrupt dynamic shifts were exuberantly sounded, all the sections dovetailing their parts then “breaking out” with great élan. I thought the strings played with much more confidence, here, adroitly crisscrossing their lines and building the lines towards places where the horns could underline the music’s festive aspect with plenty of spirit.

So, the concert ended as it had begun – with Mozart’s music completing the circle, the playing rounding the afternoon’s music-making off with a good deal of panache and some well-deserved accompanying audience enjoyment.

Defences overwhelmed by seductive songs from Nota Bene under Julian Raphael

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Nota Bene: Untold Stories

Music from New England and New Zealand by Brendan Taaffe, Don Jamison and Julian Raphael

Directed by Julian Raphael, with guest musicians

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Saturday 27 June, 8 pm

Nota Bene, founded over ten years ago by Christine Argyle, has always been a slightly unorthodox choir, perhaps ‘eclectic’ and ‘adventurous’ might be better words: they often veer towards the not-so-heavy repertoire whether jazz, quasi-pop, art songs, Renaissance polyphony, folk or “World” music, with special attention to New Zealand composers, and not averse to a touch of religiose sentiment. It’s also a choir whose performances are marked by enthusiasm, fun and sparkling precision in their ensemble and diction. All of which is vividly demonstrated in their CD, NB: accents – celebrating 10 years which includes a few seriously beautiful, mainstream classical tracks. It’s been hard to extract from the CD player in my car for many months: the music is wonderful and it’s a real chance to be spellbound by the choice of music and its immaculate performances.

Background to the concert was to be found, not so much in the programme leaflet, but in the choir’s website. Julian Raphael has become well known in Wellington through his work with several choirs, and with schools. Brendan Taaffe has visited twice, holding workshops, but Don Jamison might be known only through his songs. The latter two live in Vermont, and their songs are notated using a system (and in a style) known as ‘shape-note’.

It’s defined: “Shape-note singing, a musical practice and tradition of social singing from music books printed in shape notes. Shape notes are a variant system of Western musical notation whereby the note heads are printed in distinct shapes to indicate their scale degree and solmization syllable (fa, sol, la, etc.)”; and “Shape notes are a music notation designed to facilitate congregational and community singing. The notation, introduced in 1801, became a popular teaching device in American singing schools”.

The character of performance is described in another website: “It has a distinctive sound: modal, open chords, octave doubling, unusual harmonies. It is usually sung at full volume in an exuberant outpouring of sound and feeling.”

The four shape-note pieces by Jamison (Owen Sound, Cabin Hill, Jackson Heights, Kingdom) were four-part settings of adaptations of Psalms, vaguely hymnal in a southern Baptist accent. That said, the music was most agreeable, often syncopated or swinging easily; the singing, almost all without the scores in front of them, exemplary. The songs’ superficial simplicity conceals an essential musicality and integrity of spirit.

The bracket of songs by Brendan Taaffe was a little more varied in their style and range of influences. Agawa Bay revealed an influence of Renaissance polyphony, in a brisk tempo; in Wester Caputh men’s voices sang the opening passage, a touching melody that thinned attractively as women joined. Superior was a tender, nostalgic song, in a slow tempo without any hint of syncopation, and Greenwood Lake, in slow triple time, peppered with quavers, with words that suggested a more religious awareness.

The last item in the first half was a boisterous, get-up-and-move gospel song from North Carolina, ‘Better Day a-Coming’, joyous and energetic, and here conductor Raphael threw himself into the spirit with broad arm gestures, encouraging swinging and clapping, not only from the choir but also from the audience, most of whom followed with some gusto.

Part 2 was Julian Raphael’s own: a group of songs to words by Frances Knight and music by him.  He explained that the songs, Untold Stories, were conceived during a summer holiday in France and worked over by the pair when they returned to Canterbury (England) – a ‘delightful process of collaborative song-writing’, he says.

These were accompanied by a small ensemble of Nick Granville – guitar, John Rae – percussion, Sarah Hopkins – mallets, that is marimba, and Umar Zakaria – bass, as well as Raphael himself at the piano from time to time.

The first song, Our Song, began with a long instrumental introduction, and the voices entered without fanfare; it was repetitious, in an evolving manner, carrying echoes of southern African music (Raphael has spent time in Zimbabwe and is a student of Shona culture and music; the home of a great hit in the 1950s, Skokiaan, one of the most infectious dance party numbers in my late teens, a hit by Bill Haley and Louis Armstrong, somewhat bastardised by Bert Kaempfert and James Last. There are a couple of LPs in my crowded shelves).

Having been seduced by the above experience 60 years ago, this music still has a hold on me and so, in their different ways, I enjoyed the swing and energy of all the rest of the programme: Shine me on my Way, My Heart, Disappeared and Touch the Sky. There were other influences too, the American south again, Latin American (in Disappeared: infectious, poignant, very appealing), the Balkans. And three soloists from the choir came forward to sing lyrics in most of them (Jeltsje Keiser, John Chote and Marian Willberg).

To send us home in great spirits, the choir repeated ‘Better day a-coming’. As promised by Raphael, the music – really the entire programme – proved hard to resist, eminently singable, the stuff to overcome the most diffident audience and, I’m sure, music that breaks down the rigidity of teenage taste in high school students.  Nota Bene might give the impression of an unpretentious choir, but it’s one of the best trained and most joyous in the city.

 

An impressive, major programme in the series of Bach’s complete organ music at St Paul’s Cathedral

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

The Bach Project:
Programme 13 of the complete organ works of J.S. Bach, throughout 2015

Richard Apperley, Michael Stewart, organ

Wellington Cathedral of St. Paul

Friday, 26 June 2015, 6.00pm

The programme this time was in the early evening, rather than lunchtime, enabling a good-sized audience to attend.  The items were chosen for the recital by ballot, and it was interesting to see a mixture of well-known and lesser known works appearing.

Under the hands (and feet) of two organists who play here regularly, the music of Bach did not suffer  (with one or two minor exceptions) from the muddied sound I’ve heard from some organists when playing Bach in this venue.

The first offering was Toccata, Adagio and Fugue in C, BWV 564.  This is a well-known work, with much variety, including pedal solo.  Variations in the tempo by Richard Apperley, who played the first five items, made the work interesting, and a far cry from those who play Bach mechanistically.  Very satisfying registrations were employed.

The Adagio is a favourite movement of mine, and although Apperley took it a little faster than I’ve sometimes heard it, it was none the worse for that, except for some of the turns, which lost a degree of clarity.  Conversely, the Grave latter part of the second movement was slower than I have heard it, and thereby much improved.  The detached fingering in the final movement made the fugue theme at its various entries much more apparent.

Now to a shorter work: ‘Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme’, BWV 645.  This gorgeous chorale prelude from the Schübler Chorales, with its running accompaniment on flute stops and the melody on a low reed was quite delightful.  Bach’s suiting of the pitch and length of the notes to the words of the chorale on which the piece is based makes this much more than music only.

The famous, and oft-arranged, Toccata and Fugue in D minor was not top of the selection, as Michael Stewart said he expected it to be.  The grandeur of this work, and its increasing complexity, were fully realised by Richard Apperley.  He did not change registrations by swapping manuals during movements, as many do; thus he preserved Baroque practice.  The brilliant ending was almost as dramatic as the opening.

I have many fine recordings of organ music, but the sound does not compare with the ambience and extra dimensions of hearing the music on an organ in a cathedral or other large buildings, where the organ has been designed and built for the space and acoustic.

We needed a gentle rest after that!  Sure enough, another chorale prelude between the larger works ensued: ‘Liebster Jesu, wir sind hier’, BWV 538.  The programme note included ‘I would wager that there aren’t many young organists who haven’t learned to play this!’  Young or not, it was the first piece of Bach I learned on the organ.  It has an utterly charming opening, and like all of its genre, it relies on phrasing, or breathing, of the lines of the chorale on which it is based.  Sure enough, it was all there, as Maxwell Fernie taught me.

The chords of the accompaniment set off the melody line so well, although I found Apperley’s registration of the accompaniment a little too quiet against the stop chosen for the melody.

Another toccata and fugue, this one the so-called ‘Dorian’, BWV 538.  I was less familiar with it than with the rest of the programme.  According to the programme note, there is not much relationship to the Dorian mode at all. (A little slip in the programme note: the work would have been composed in Weimar, not Leipzig, if between 1708 and 1717.)  It is a very grand and complex work – almost convoluted.

At interval, there was a choice of mulled wine or a non-alcoholic hot drink, plus cake to be had – a welcome offering on a cold night.

Michael Stewart played the second half, beginning with Fantasia and Fugue in G minor, BWV 542.  It boasts a portentous opening, described in the notes as ‘one of the most arresting openings of any piece in the organ repertoire’.  The harmonic shifts in this work are quite amazing, and exciting.  In the fugue, held notes with much going on underneath, made for drama and interest.

Next was Sonata in E flat, BWV 535.  One of the six charming Trio Sonatas, this was played using flutes for the opening, and for accompanying the melodies played on reeds.  These melodies sounded rather
like chorales.  In the final section, allegro, there was pleasing staccato on the pedals, against a running
accompaniment.

Pièce d’Orgue, otherwise Fantasia in G, BWV 572, was the ‘unforeseen winner’ of the poll of the audience.  Here I felt that the very resonant acoustic told against the fast tempo of the semi-quavers of the first section, très vitement.  The ‘grave’ second section was full, rich, imposing and forward-moving.  The lentement final section hardly seemed slow, with its demi-semi-quavers.  It is a marvellous work.

Finally, Passacaglia in C minor, BWV 582.  It was a tour de force.  Its theme and 21 variations were carried off with clarity; the difficult work was played superbly.

It is rare to hear an organ recital of this length (two hours), entirely of Bach’s music, and consistently played with equal accomplishment by two different organists.  Above all, this recital demonstrated the huge range of forms, styles and moods in Bach’s diverse and brilliant oeuvre.  The excellent programme notes by the two protagonists added to the value and enjoyment of the concert.

 

 

Unmissable violin sonata programme from APO’s Canadian concertmaster and Sarah Watkins

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Andrew Beer (violin) and Sarah Watkins (piano)
(Wellington Chamber Music)

Beethoven: Violin Sonata in G, Op 30 No 3
Lilburn: Violin Sonata (1950)
Good: ‘And Dreams Rush Forth to Greet the Distance’
Bartok: Two Rhapsodies
Ravel: Sonata in A for violin and piano

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Sunday 21 June, 3 pm

The violinist’s name would have been new to Wellingtonians – the recently appointed Concertmaster of the Auckland Philharmonia Orchestra; the pianist however, is very well known. But the audience was disappointing: see comments in my Coda.

I think this programme, entirely of worthwhile, interesting works, but containing only one familiar, major work, might have seemed missable to non-subscribers, unless driven by Lilburn-loyalty or special love of Bartok, and who would be paying $40 for a seat.

Beethoven
In the event, it was an excellent concert. The performance of Beethoven’s Op 30 No 3 was strong, spirited and with striking emphasis on rhythmic elements and the engaging melodies; the two players sounded as if they’d been playing together for years. The middle movement, a sort of minuet, adhered perfectly to its marking, ‘molto moderato e grazioso’, and piano and violin conversed equably, animatedly, tossing ideas to and fro. As the notes pointed out, there is playfulness in the last movement, as the two seemed to push each other a little, and drew attention to themselves with misleading expectations, and untimely modulations. All these features increase the pleasure to be found in a piece of music and one of Beethoven’s gifts was his ability to tease and mislead the audience while creating a masterpiece. All this was here in the performance.

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

The others two sonatas, in C and E flat, were written in 1943; they were first performed, respectively, by Maurice Clare (violin) and Noel Newson (piano), and by Vivien Dixon (violin) and Anthea Harley Slack (piano).

Probably my first live hearing of the present one was at a Mulled Wine concert at Paekakariki in 2011, when Sarah Watkins accompanied Donald Armstrong. There’s an Atoll recording of both the E flat and the present one, issued in 2011, featuring Elizabeth Holowell (violin) and Dean Sky-Lucas (piano). Atoll ACD 941. It was reviewed that year in Middle C by my colleague Peter Mechen.

Andrew Beer’s comments in the programme notes about Lilburn, from a newcomer’s standpoint, are interesting. In his remarks I get a hint of surprise at what might be seen as a sort of obsession with finding a New Zealand voice, as if the job of a creative artist were to interpret or reflect his own land rather than simply to write attractive, listenable music. Such an idea, which is still current, would have puzzled Bach, Mozart, Brahms, Strauss, Prokofiev (among many others). “Telling our own stories” has become a tedious, clichéd justification for supporting New Zealand artists in all fields. There are far more important reasons.

Worrying about expressing and echoing one’s own country has been an aberration that started with the growth of nationalism in the mid 19th century, which has distorted attitudes in so many areas and fuelled the political hatreds that have dogged the world ever since.

However, Lilburn was simply a man of his times, in that matter.

Fortunately, by the time he was 35, Lilburn was writing music that exuded more self-confidence and less seeking for a New Zealand voice, and this sonata is a good example. It is now his own voice, mature, individual, yet echoing the sounds of his immediate predecessors, like Vaughan Williams, tonal and lyrical, though by no means conservative or sentimental. It has also absorbed the character of European music of the time, the tough-minded mid-century; there are moments of dissonance.

It is unusual in being in once movement, with five sections alternating between Molto moderato and Allegro. The performance establishes a searching quality which finds more confidence in the first Allegro section, with both instruments sharing a dance-like episode. The emotional undulations made the second Allegro sound like a concluding phase, but the repeat of Tempo I quickly justified itself.

In my review of that Paekakariki concert I described the sonata as “an impressive, vigorous, tightly-argued work that should have become one of the leading chamber pieces of the New Zealand repertoire.” That still stands.

The rest of the programme
The Lilburn was followed by a shorter piece by Canadian composer Scott Good, a competition piece. The notes reproduce the composer’s own views of the requirements of such a piece: very interesting and well-judged. It gave plenty of scope for virtuosity, drew on contemporary compositional trends, and it certainly, as stipulated, held the attention of an audience. Nor did it seem to think for a minute of attempting to find a ‘Canadian voice’. It simply expressed a confidence in its ability to find melody and treatments that would sound interesting. The performance delivered on all those counts, with the pianist as wholly involved in the idiom as the violinist himself.

After the interval, Bartok’s Two Rhapsodies, quite substantial pieces. Both were played with an aim of making civilized, lyrical (up to a point) music from peasant material that was unsophisticated even if complex in its own way. The first is considerably more conventional and ‘westernised’ than the second, which seems closer to its folk origins, more driven, avoiding any risk of charming the listener, with the piano in percussive mode and the violin, untypically harsh in places. One of my scribbled notes remarked that it was undoubtedly the most formidable piece on the programme, but perhaps, given that, it was over-long.

The programme ended with Ravel’s Violin Sonata, again, not one of his most familiar or engaging; somewhat severe with tunes that might be described as gestures rather than the real thing. So it’s one of those works that one has heard several times, but only the jazz-inflected second movement, is really familiar. Nevertheless, the performance extracted all its virtues, both of melody and structure – the element that allows melody to take a firm grip and holds the attention.

Coda
There have been a lot of opinions and argument about the functions of the critic, from at least the time of Plato, and no doubt in earlier civilisations. Over the years I’ve been tackled for making comments that are alleged to be outside the purview of a critic, perhaps touching on the political context of a composer’s work, his private life, the players’ circumstances, the question of state support for the arts, availability and cost of venues, the condition of music education, value judgements touching the various genres of music, and on and on… all matters of great importance in my opinion.

This is preliminary to an observation about the audience size.

The weather was cold; the venue, since last year after the closure indefinite (?) of the Town Hall, not perhaps ideal for reasons that I need not spell out, though acoustically and in seating comfort, very good. That leaves the programme; and here we find an awareness hiatus between some performers and some promoters who agree to a programme, and an average audience, about what appeals on the one hand, and what, on the other, looks a bit esoteric, worthy but not emotionally compelling.

Till last year I was on the committee of the Wellington Chamber Music Society (as it was) almost from the beginning of these Sunday concerts in 1983, and so have attended a great many of them. The number of subscribers in the Sunday series has declined steadily over many years, and so there is not a large, paid-up contingent who will come anyway, having paid for all the concerts. I can’t remember a smaller audience for a Wellington Chamber Music concert; yet they continue to be a vital element in Wellington’s music scene.

This is just one of the many musical and other organisations that is suffering from the Town Hall’s closure. Christchurch has resolved to restore its Town Hall for twice the cost of the estimate for ours. What’s the matter with our Council?

 

Excellent opera recital with Friends of New Zealand Opera

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Friends of New Zealand Opera: a Winter Concert

Arias and duets from opera and musicals

Kristin Darragh (contralto), Barbara Graham (soprano), Kate Lineham (soprano) Warwick Fyfe (baritone), Bruce Greenfield (piano)

Hunter Council Chamber, Victoria University

Sunday, 21 June 2015, 4pm

Approximately 120 people came to hear a star-studded line-up of opera singers present a delightful programme of mainly well-known arias and duets.  Unfortunately, Australian baritone Warwick Fyfe was suffering from a severe throat infection (after travelling here from Australia on Qantas – how often I have heard about this happening to people!), and thus his contribution was limited.  For example, the first three items were to be from Lohengrin, but these had to be cut.  However, Kristin Darragh sang Erde’s aria ‘Weiche Wotan’ from Das Rheingold with great dignity, spirit and sonority.  Warwick Fyfe managed Wotan’s interjections; despite illness, his voice sounded strong, rich and very
expressive.

Kristin Darragh’s voice is so resonant that you could think it was amplified – which it certainly wasn’t.  She has an apparently easy delivery and a relaxed pose.  Despite all the carpet, the Hunter Council Chamber proved to be a good space for singers – an oblong box with a high, wooden ceiling.  I have heard many concerts there, but seldom vocalists, so it was quite an ear-opener.

Stuart Maunder’s introductions were brief and to the point.  The somewhat slimmed-down programme was given some additional substance by Maunder’s brief interviews with Warwick Fyfe and Kristin Darragh, the former introducing a considerable amount of humour.

Next up was Barbara Graham, singing Dvořák’s ‘Song to the Moon’ from Rusalka.  This simple yet gorgeous aria was sung beautifully.  I don’t know the Czech language, but it sounded pretty good, and clearly enunciated.  Barbara Graham has plenty of power when required.  This thought led me to notice that the piano lid was up for the singers, i.e. on the long stick.  This is not possible in some venues or for some voices.

Warwick Fyfe explained that with his ‘bug’ he was more comfortable in the lower register, that he less often used these days.  Therefore he sang the wonderful ‘O Isis and Osiris’ from The Magic
Flute.  The deep notes were full of tone, and if the singer had a little difficulty with breathing, it did not
seriously detract from Sarastro’s firm and satisfying aria.

Kate Lineham was on next, presenting ‘Porgi Amor’, as the Countess in The Marriage of Figaro.  She projected the lady’s sadness at the philandering of her husband, in both her voice and her interpretation, involving a little acting. Her voice has more vibrato than some, but mostly it was well under control although it did threaten to send some top notes off pitch.

Warwick Fyfe then surprised the audience by singing Papageno’s duet with Papagena: ‘Pa, pa, pa’.  This was in a higher register than his earlier aria, but he managed it well.  Barbara Graham acted out the role delightfully, not neglecting to sing it splendidly.

Throughout, that one-man orchestra, Bruce Greenfield, played the accompaniments with flair and dexterity, amply contributing to the mood and atmosphere of each piece.

Puccini was represented by the ‘Flower duet’ from Madama Butterfly, sung by Darragh and Lineham.  The two strong voices were well matched.  The former continued with the ‘Seguidilla’ from Carmen.  She seemed right at home in this spirited aria, and sang powerfully, with much varying of tone to give expression to the mood and words.

Another change from the printed programme took us into the world of the musical, beginning with My Fair Lady, from which Kate Lineham sang ‘Words, words!  I’m so sick of words’.  This was an apt rendition, with rich top notes.  This was followed by a song written for the musical Thoroughly Modern Millie, but excised from the show: ‘The girl in [flat] 14G’.  Barbara Graham sang and gestured with great spirit and glee a song that included a spoof on opera (heard from the flat below) and on Ella Fitzgerald popular numbers (heard from the flat above).  This was a very demanding item, and Barbara Graham produced great acting and singing.

Then Warwick Fyfe sang Australian Jack O’Hagan’s ‘Road to ‘Gundagai’, followed by Kristin Darragh’s ‘Maybe this time’, from Cabaret.  Liza Minelli she ain’t, but it was a good performance.  However, it does upset me  little to hear a fine operatic voice used so brashly.

‘Chanson Espagnole’ by Debussy, based on a Delibes song, was the penultimate offering, from Kate and Barbara.  The latter’s flexible and versatile acting and singing of this florid song was most commendable, and she matched well with Kate’s admirable performance.

Finally, from Saint-Saëns’s Samson and Delilah, Kristin Darragh sang with lovely, rich contralto tone a stirring aria in which Delilah prays for John the Baptist to fall in love with her.

This brought to a conclusion an excellent late afternoon’s entertainment, which despite difficulties, show-cased splendidly the artistry of two international opera singers, two fine local singers and one outstanding accompanist.

 

Orchestra Wellington in irresistible, largely Russian programme plus multi-cultural esoterica

Posted on by Lindis Taylor
Orchestra Wellington conducted by Marc Taddei

Leila Adu: Blessings as Rain Fall (vocal part sung by composer)
Prokofiev: Piano Concerto No 3 in C, Op 26, with Michael Houstoun – piano
Tchaikovsky: Symphony No 2 in C minor, ‘Little Russian’

Michael Fowler Centre

Saturday 20 June, 7:30 pm

Not content with the inevitable attraction of the complete Tchaikovsky symphony cycle, plus one of the most exciting piano concertos of the 20th century, Taddei added an indefinable something whose appeal might have been in any of a dozen varied musical or artistic realms. A vocal piece by a young composer, Leila Adu, of mixed New Zealand and Ghanaian birth, with its roots in those places as well as in the Buddhist spiritual, metaphysical world, but also casting an astute eye towards ‘world music’, whatever that momentarily fashionable term means, that has supplanted the non-PC word ‘folk music’.

Set to a poem by Tibetan Buddhist lama Kalu Rinpoche, it was chosen by Adu in part because it doesn’t mention a deity and so should be open to people of any religion (or perhaps none).

After some introductory remarks by Nigel Collins, in preparation for later broadcast of its recording by Radio New Zealand Concert, he welcomed acting Concertmaster Stephanie Rolfe (I suppose, substituting for Matthew Ross); then Taddei and composer-singer Adu came on stage. She stands pretty motionless, expressionless, yet seeming totally self-possessed and confident.  I’m sure her demeanour persuaded most of the audience that we were going to hear something unusual and significant, and there’s no doubt about the forces of personality and character that work in her favour in any role she chooses to adopt.

Her voice arrived first and for a moment seemed to dominate the orchestra, even though it appeared not to be amplified: it’s an engaging voice that switches several times into a surprising falsetto which was presumably to reflect the spirituality of the words. After a little while, the shape of the piece emerged: limited amount of melodic material, mostly consisting of descending scales in a rhythm that might be described as part-time jazzy, related more to the idiom of the mid-century American musical than to jazz itself. The words sometimes sounded as if being forced into existing musical patterns.

The text was a series of six nine-line stanzas, and the music varied somewhat from one to another but its style hardly varied. In the early stages the oboe defined the mood, but there were dark accompaniments from tuba, trombones and bassoon, and flashes of light from flutes and xylophone; towards the end a sense of contentment and fulfilment seemed to take over, reflected in her face enlivened at first by subtle and then more open smiles. The final (seventh) stanza involved an emotional shift, expressing through the music, more joy, more singing in the upper register, brighter colours in the orchestra.

One had the feeling in the end, trying to weigh the music, assess its value, characterise it, that given its base in Buddhist philosophy and morality, the standards that are applied to western music were irrelevant. That it’s not meant to be judged as we might judge a sonata or an opera, but perhaps rather, a madrigal or a protest song, where the message or the spirit is more important than the artistic clothing in which it’s dressed.

The colour of the air seemed to change when Nigel Collins reappeared to talk briefly with Marc Taddei about Prokofiev and his concerto during the rearrangement of the stage for the piano’s arrival. No 3 is the best known and most popular of Prokofiev’s five; in fact, it’s the only one in the traditional three-movement shape. All five are being played at this year’s Proms in London next month, by the London Symphony Orchestra under Valery Gergiev. Sold out evidently.

In truth, the opening revealed a little shakiness, but very soon pianist and orchestra found accord and a driving, repetitious energy rapidly took charge. It was interesting to have a fundamentally non-flamboyant pianist, much concerned with the metaphysical, at the keyboard for it allowed the essential quality of the music to emerge rather than having to search for it through a haze of glitter and bravura.

Though things got a little out of sync for a moment in the second movement, the tricky alternating beats of piano and orchestra continued to be high entertainment. It falls away and suddenly becomes the Allegro ma non troppo, finale, in which the bassoon starts nine minutes of scrupulous wit and deft rhythms, the piano leading a calm section adorned with flighty flute figures, as Prokofiev continued to draw on his famous trove of tunes that he hoarded against a drying up of melodic inspiration. Such a one survives scores of repetitions that lead to an impetuous rush as orchestra and piano experience multiple climaxes, piled one on the other.

Tchaikovsky’s second symphony, like the first, emerges as a wonder: why is it not often played, as it’s such an attractive work. My first awakening to it was in the mid 1950s through the splendid World Record Club which all music lovers (when that naturally meant ‘classical’ music) joined and built up their LP collections at tolerable prices for generally excellent performances. Of course, I still have, and have just played, that ‘Little Russian’, by Giulini and the Philharmonia Orchestra. Tchaikovsky uses several Ukrainian folk tunes, which gives the symphony its name: ‘Little Russia’ was Russia’s name for its often put-upon fellow Slav neighbour to the south (not that that country has always behaved very prudently).

During the interval I had moved from a seat about seven rows from the front to row T, where the orchestral balance was better. Everything sounded great now, even though one’s ears do adjust to acoustic weaknesses and the imagination makes good. The orchestral strings, now at only two players less in each section than the NZSO, are at the level of most good city orchestras in Germany and it’s a real shame that they are not funded adequately to offer more employment and to give more concerts around Greater Wellington and in the provincial towns of the southern North Island, and Blenheim and Nelson.

The horns, especially principal Shadley van Wyk, delivered well in the several important horn passages, and the two bassoons (Tilson a former NZSO player) were distinguished, as were winds as a whole. But principal credit goes to Marc Taddei who conducted, as he frequently does, from memory; the buoyancy and warmth of the playing was simply a delight, with magical quiet passages, allowing an excellent launch-pad for crescendos. The timpani too, sounding with subtlety, in the decrescendo leading to the end of the Andante marziale, second movement.

The Scherzo was charmingly lit from above, by woodwinds: piccolo and flute prominent; all sounded well disciplined through the dancing final section. The finale opens with a splendid fanfare-like, attention-grabbing call to attention which subsides with fine timpani again and quiet strings and winds to a leisurely promenade. And the end comes with a slow acceleration, and the repetitions, with subtle instrumental changes, of the Ukrainian folk tunes by which Tchaikovsky builds excitement through the final pages. The applause was enthusiastic and quite prolonged.

 

Enterprising new choir of youngish voices makes a real mark on Wellington’s choral scene

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Wellington Young Professionals Choir – Supertonic, conducted by Isaac Stone

‘The Prisoner Rises’ – songs of resolve and resistance by Aaron Rosenthal, Donald McCullough, Ethel
Smyth, Britten, Vaughan Williams, and Traditional Supertonic
With Craig Utting (piano), Benjamin Sneyd-Utting (cello), Ephraim Wilson (organ) vocal soloists and readers from the choir

Sacred Heart Cathedral, Hill Street

Friday, 19 June, 7.30pm

A new phenomenon has hit the Wellington choral scene! This choir was formed last year (perhaps incorporating the lawyers choir I have heard several times at St. Andrew’s on The Terrace?), and comprises over 50 young singers.

The ambitious programme was enterprising, and selected from works expressing the horrors of imprisonment or incarceration of other kinds.  The venue was almost full; it appeared that most of the audience were friends and family of the performers – but there is no shame in that.  It is encouraging to see a mainly young audience at a concert of ‘classical’ music.  Choir members were clad in a variety of combinations of teal and black – most effective, and not boringly uniform.

The performance opened with a set of three songs based on poems by children who were incarcerated in Terezin concentration camp outside Prague, during the Second World War.  Google tells me that Rosenthal is a Boston-based composer, born in 1975.

Women sang first, and I was immediately struck by the lovely, uniform tone they produced.  Dynamics were telling but controlled in ‘To Olga’.  Next came ‘The Little Mouse’.  The piano part, played by Craig Utting, had the mouse jumping all over the place.  This song was partially in unison, often a trying test for choral singers, but the tuning was very good.

The third song, ‘The Butterfly’, featured gorgeous harmonies.  It was noticeable that the choir was very responsive to its conductor in these very effective songs.

The Holocaust Cantata is by an American, Donald McCullough (born 1957).  Although I searched the internet, and found that he is a prolific composer of choral music, I could not find out when the work in question was composed.  It is at least ten years old, and has obviously had many performances.  Sung in English, the lyrics and the readings between songs, were originally Polish.
The songs were based on folk melodies from the concentration camps.

Beside the excellent singing, the work was notable for the superb cello obbligato playing of 14-year-old Benjamin Sneyd-Utting, son of the excellent accompanist.  From his attentive gaze at the conductor, it became apparent that he had memorised much of the music.  The first song, ‘The Prisoner Rises’ was begun solemnly by the men.  Words and intonation were fine.  Parts of this number were reminiscent, both musically and in subject matter, of Tippett’s A Child of our Time.

The interspersed readings, all read by members of the choir, were variously titled to fit with the subject matter of the songs.  Although words from the choir were on the whole clear, because of the musical settings it was not always possible to understand the poems.  However, the readings were harrowing in their clarity, and their descriptions of experiences in the camps.  ‘Singing Saved my Life’ was more positive, but later ones were about the unspeakable methods of death perpetrated by Hitler and the Nazis on camp residents.  Most of the readers delivered the words appropriately, although the last two rushed the them rather, not taking into account the size of the church.

Men sang the second number, ‘Song of the Polish Prisoners’; the tenor tone was splendid.  The cello did not play in this song, but the piano accompaniment was complex.  Four readers spoke after the next song ‘In Buchenwald’.  The cello accompanied the harrowing words with gloomy music, expertly played.  Altogether, the cantata was some of the most doleful music I have ever heard.  The descriptions were hard to take.

‘The Train’ featured a male soloist.  Joshua Marshall has a pleasant voice, but was not totally in command of it.  The piano accompaniment’s rhythm echoed the title, while the choir’s contribution was admirable, not least because, as throughout the programme, the singers’ vowels were all pronounced in the same way, leading to purity of tone and good enunciation of words.  These facets were also advanced by the extent to which the choir members obviously listened to and toned in with each other.

A song for women only was unaccompanied, and quite beautiful.  Then ‘Tempo di Tango’ was followed by a reading about illicit drinking in the camp – the cello and piano illustrated the ‘under the influence’ context very well!  The final song, ‘Song of Days now gone’, had two female soloists.

For something more cheerful, the next item was March of the Women by Ethel Smyth, who apparently conducted it from her cell window with a tooth-brush, she having been imprisoned for her women’s suffrage activities.  This was nostalgic for me, since I worked in a library of books and archives from the suffragists (as opposed to the militant suffragettes), in London, and saw there an original printing of the words of this choral march.

Rejoice in the Lamb by Benjamin Britten was even more of a nostalgia trip for me; it was one of the first choral works I ever sang in, while a student at Otago University.  It was conducted by the redoubtable Professor Peter Platt, with fine organist Kenneth Weir, treble from the St. Paul’s Cathedral (Dunedin) choir, Valda McCracken (contralto), a tenor, and Ninian Walden (bass) as the superb bass soloist.  The audience was provided with full text.  It was bliss for me to hear this beautiful work again, the marvellous words of eighteenth-century poet Christopher Smart (who was held in an asylum at the time of writing the poem) coming over well, thanks not only to the choir, but to the wonderful word-setting skills of the composer.

Smart’s imagination was supremely matched by Britten’s, and the delicious settings, of, for example, ‘I will consider my cat Jeoffry’ and the passages about the mouse were absolutely beautiful, and played to perfection by Ephraim Wilson on the organ.  The use of a female alto instead of a counter-tenor did not detract gravely from the music; in fact all the soloists were up to the task, though the tenor’s voice was not well supported, and the bass’s tone was somewhat constricted.

The beauty of the last lines of the penultimate chorus ‘For at that time malignity ceases and the devils themselves are at peace. / For this time is perceptible to man by a remarkable stillness and serenity of soul’ followed by a quiet, graceful ‘Hallelujah’ is supreme.

Following this were a song by Vaughan Williams: ‘The Sky above the Roof’ sung by Georgia Gray, who also made a very good contribution as a soloist in the Britten, and three traditional spirituals, sung unaccompanied from round the walls of the church, with the conductor at the back.  ‘Steal Away’ was a different arrangement from the accustomed Sir Michael Tippett one; this one by American choral composer and arranger Russell Robinson.  There were a few little rhythmic flaws; it would not be surprising if the choir was getting tired.  ‘We shall Walk through the Valley in Peace’ began with humming and featured multi-part singing, and ‘Give me Jesus’ completed the programme.

Now some gripes: if you speak to the audience don’t say ‘um’ all the time!  Prepare what you are going to say, then say it fluently and succinctly.  The programme on this occasion was too long; talking took up too much time, especially at the end.  Speeches detract from the music, and makes it difficult to go away with the wonderful music in one’s head.  Make gift presentations by all means, but not accompanied by speeches that couldn’t be heard by audience members further back. The balance of the concert would have been more effective if it had ended with the Britten – the high point.

The concert was being presented in Masterton as well as Wellington, but the printed programme does not bear the names of the venues, nor the dates or times of the performances.

Nevertheless, this choir has achieved a lot already.  If you are at all interested in choral music, hear its next performance.

 

 

Turnovsky Jubilee Ensemble of former competitors celebrate 50 years of schools chamber music competitions

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Presented by Chamber Music New Zealand

Bach: Orchestral Suite no.2 in B minor, BWV 1067
Lilburn: Diversions for Strings
Mozart: Flute Quartet no.1 in D, K.285
Mendelssohn: Octet in E flat, Op.20

Former particpants in the chamber music competitions:  Wilma Smith (director, violin), Justine Cormack (violin, viola), Lara Hall (violin), Natalie Lin (violin), Gillian Ansell (viola), Bryony Gibson-Cornish (viola), Ashley Brown (cello), Victoria Simonsen (cello), Victoria Jones (double bass), Bridget Douglas (flute), Douglas Mews (harpsichord)

Michael Fowler Centre

Thursday, 18 June 2015, 7.30pm

The players, all former winners or participants, and in some cases adjudicators, in the schools chamber music contest (first sponsored by the Bank of New South Wales which became Westpac Bank, and now by New Zealand Community Trust) are giving concerts in 15 centres to celebrate 50 years of that contest.

The annual event now involves hundreds of school students in chamber music, and has given opportunity to many who have gone on to professional careers in music performance and teaching. The ensemble is named in honour of the late Fred Turnovsky, who was one of the key figures in the founding of what is now Chamber Music New Zealand, and from whose Foundation regular sponsorship is received.

What a line-up of performers! It’s always a pleasure to welcome Wilma Smith back to New Zealand, and the energy and warm sonority of her playing must be at least partly responsible for these attributes being notable in this concert. For the most part the women wore brightly coloured dresses – perhaps Brown and Mews should have emulated them with coloured silk shirts, rather than boring dark suits?

The programme as played differed from that originally advertised: Elgar’s Serenade for Strings had been dropped, and the Mozart work substituted. The order was changed too; logically, the Bach was played first rather than the Lilburn, as Wilma Smith informed us in some brief remarks, using a microphone.

The playing of the Bach was in baroque style, though with modern instruments. The players stood for this work (apart from the cellist and bassist). Hearing the seven movements, with their varying tempi, from a small ensemble like this, one could really follow the individual parts better; for example, I heard much more of what the cello and bass were playing than I ever have from listening to the work on record or radio.

There were ten players, all ‘spot-on’ all the time, without benefit of conductor. It was delightful to hear agile and elegant flute playing from Bridget Douglas (albeit, of course, on a modern metal flute), in the second movement (Rondeau) especially. The taut rhythms of slow and fast movements alike, were simply a great pleasure to hear. This was pure music played by highly talented and skilled musicians in full accord with what they were playing and with each other. The final Badinerie, perhaps the best-known of the movements, is such fun, and surely reveals that J.S. Bach had a sense of humour.

Douglas Lilburn’s centenary year was celebrated with his five-movement Diversions for Strings. For this, the harpsichord and flute were banished, and a second cellist introduced, and the ensemble was seated. This was vintage Lilburn at his most delightful. The pizzicato of the vivace first movement set a cheerful tone, which was contrasted in the second (poco adagio: espressivo) by the modal feel to the writing, that featured rich harmonies, and attractive solo passages from Wilma Smith. The presto third movement illustrated the lovely contrasts between movements, and Lilburn’s humour, in introducing an extract from Rossini’s William Tell overture. The fourth movement (andante) was restrained and elegant, thoughtful and solemn, while the allegro finale proved to be a rhythmically strong end to the piece.

Mozart’s quartet was written when he was in his early twenties, and is neither complex nor lengthy. It features a lovely pastoral opening theme. The mellow strings of Cormack, Gibson-Cornish and Simonsen contrasted with the more incisive flute of Douglas most attractively. The adagio second movement also had a pastoral feel, but with hints of pathos. It included the solo flute playing against pizzicato from the strings. This movement led straight into the rondo, a very quick finale, with lots of scampering around in a dance alternately boisterous and elegant. Lovely legatos contrasted with pungent staccatos.

Last but not least was Mendelssohn’s superb and justifiably popular Octet. As a friend said to me afterwards, “it is golden sunshine”. It has been said that this work is far more advanced and complex than anything Mozart wrote at the age Mendelssohn was when he wrote it: 16. What a genius! The uplifting rising cadences of the opening always bring a smile to my face. It is not often heard live in New Zealand, due to the difficulty of bringing together eight players in a chamber music concert; though I recall a 2014 performance at Waikanae from the Amici Ensemble as well as a notable performance by the New Zealand String Quartet and the Lindsay Quartet at an International Festival concert in Wellington some years ago; and it has appeared at the Nelson chamber music festival occasionally.

The gorgeous singing tone from Wilma Smith, and the mellow violas, were particularly notable. The players gave everything in energy and resonance to the jubilant first movement. The sombre andante began with violas and cellos; the wonderfully fluent violins followed, all revealing much light and shade in the music.

This music is not busy or in a hurry; serenity rules. It was noticeable that this work held the audience’s attention more than anything else on the programme. The third movement (scherzo) is reminiscent of the composer’s Midsummer Night’s Dream incidental music: butterflies, or fairies, dart here and there, and wonderful themes are passed around between the players. The finale is presto – and how! Its periodic climaxes are very satisfying, as is the fugal treatment of themes from earlier movements.

This was brilliant writing – and playing! The concert was a fabulous treat. It was well-attended, the downstairs of the Michael Fowler Centre being pretty well-filled; the upstairs is not used for chamber music concerts. The playing throughout was well-nigh impeccable and its clarity was glorious. Bravo!

 

NZCT chamber music competitors come down town to St Andrew’s with interesting lunchtime treat

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Nicholas Kovacev (piano), Eliana Dunford (violin) and Bethany Angus (cello)

First movement of Smetana’s Trio in G minor, Op 15 – Moderato assai – Più animato
Bach: Toccata in E minor, BWV 914
Lilburn: Sonatina No 2
Rachmaninov: Élégie in E flat minor, Op 3 No 1
Mendelssohn: Andante and Rondo Capriccioso in E, Op 14

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday 17 June, 12:15 pm

Here at St Andrew’s was the piano trio which had played the Moderato movement from Smetana’s Trio in G minor at the concert at the end of the NZSM Queen’s Birthday Chamber Music Weekend on 1 June (see the review of that date). What a treat to hear them play it again! And I’d wondered whether the group would now fill the rest of the programme with other pieces for the same players.  No, the violinist and cellist retired after playing the Smetana, and pianist Nicholas Kovacev carried on, playing pieces on his own.

I was most impressed by the trio’s earlier performance of Smetana’s poignant trio, which he wrote following the death of his daughter; as well as the convincingly expressed feeling, there was also a degree more polish in the performance as a whole, which did not detract from the emotional rawness but really made me want to hear what they would do with the entire work. Their rapport was very conspicuous in every respect; including the demonstrative and expressive crescendos and diminuendos and beautifully gauged tempo variations.

Kovacev then played four piano pieces that had the virtue of being unhackneyed, generally not very familiar. The programme note pointed out correctly that the Bach Toccata (BWV 914) that comprised Un poco allegro, Adagio and Fugue, was not well known. It made a quiet start in a thoughtful, improvisatory way before turning into a quicker Allegro; the Adagio too had a rhapsodic feel, as if Bach was rather hoping that a more memorable theme would come to him (but didn’t). The Fugue did the things a fugue is supposed to do, and Kovacev handled it with impressive clarity and confidence, its interesting turns and its testing of the sharply contrasted pursuit of the evolving fugal patterns.

Lilburn’s Sonatina No 2 of 1962 – late in his tonal-writing career – is also pretty unfamiliar. It is included in Vol 4 of the Trust CDs of Lilburn’s piano music recorded by Dan Poynton; it’s also to be found in a YouTube performance by New Zealand pianist Jeffrey Grice in Paris, where he introduces it, commenting interestingly on its thematic similarity (tenuous I think) with Ravel’s Sonatine. It certainly represents, like the third symphony, a step towards a more modernist idiom than is found in most of the more familiar music from the 1940s and 50s, but repays repeated hearings. This was an authoritative and thoroughly convincing interpretation.

From the same Opus number, 3, as the Prelude in C sharp minor came Rachmaninov’s Elegie in E flat. Over a continuous rolling bass, its elegiac quality is hardly of a grief-stricken kind – rather just pensive and soberly contemplative. It has a lovely limpid middle section that reaches a slightly unexpected climax before returning to section A. This piece, from a sharply different era and style from the two earlier pieces, found the pianist in admirable control.

Finally a more familiar piece by the 18-year-old Mendelssohn, though I wonder how familiar is today; the Andante and Rondo capriccioso is a sort of bon-bon that I first heard in my teens on the Dinner Music programme of the then 2YC channel (now RNZ Concert), played I think by Julius Katchen. Kovacev negotiated the rambling, rhapsodic introduction interestingly before the Allegro Rondo section takes off that, despite the pianist’s only noticeable, minor smudge, proved a delightful way to end the concert.

The trio is competing in this year’s NZCT Chamber Music Contest, the semi-finals and finals of which will be in Wellington in the weekend of 1-2 August. We wish them, and of course the other competing groups that were heard at the 1 June concert, success.