Author: Rosemary Collier

Enthusiasm for Orchestra Wellington, with Anna Leese, in war-time masterpieces by Strauss

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Last Words: Capriccio

Richard Strauss: Festmusik der Stadt Wien for brass and timpani (arr. Maunder)
Metamorphosen: Study for 23 solo strings
Capriccio Op.85: Prelude and Final Scene

Orchestra Wellington conducted by Marc Taddei, with Anna Leese (soprano)

Michael Fowler Centre

Saturday 16 July 2016, 7.30pm

The latest in Orchestra Wellington’s innovative ‘Last Words’ series of subscription concerts featured a variety of music, despite being all from one composer.  The works were all written late in the composer’s life.  Marc Taddei made it apparent in his pre-concert talk (with young composer Tabea Squire) that he held Strauss in high regard.  The composer had considered the opera Capriccio to be his last work.  However, the other two works on the programme were written later, as were the well-loved Four Last Songs (programmed for performance later this year by the NZSO with soloist German soprano Christiane Libor).

Doing things a little differently, Orchestra Wellington had the announcements to the audience before the players came on.  Then the brass only (plus timpani) came onto the platform, where they stood at the rear, on low tiers.  This looked very effective.  Only the tuba-player and the timpanist sat. Festmusik der Stadt Wien, “composed in 1943 as thanks for having been awarded the Beethoven Prize – and also as thanks to the city of Vienna…[for] personal protection from Nazi harassment…”, featured characterful themes.  One would not have imagined, hearing this music, that a war was raging and that people were being killed.

The music became more military with a joyful fanfare towards the end, and then a slower, more lyrical passage intervened.  A final militaristic outburst ended the work.  It must have suited its occasion well, but has not been standard symphony orchestra fare.

Now the string players came on, for Metamorphosen.  They also stood to play (though not, of course, the cellos and double basses).  Concertmaster Vesa-Matti Leppänen was borrowed from the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra, and a fine job he made of his role.  As a friend remarked in the interval, there’s a difference between the NZSO and this orchestra.  Nevertheless they play well, and it was good to hear them with an inspiring concertmaster and their usual energetic and talented conductor.

The magical opening on cellos alone wove a spell that typified the entire work.  Taddei had alluded in his talk to the ambiguity around the keys employed in the piece.  He said that it is ostensibly in C major, but metmorphoses into other keys, but eventually arriving at C minor passing through E flat on the way.  Indeed, one could not have said what the key was in these opening passages.  Leppänen led the violins in their gradual entry into the music; finally they take over.

The piece’s slowly shifting, writhing tonality seems to express sorrow and mourning.  By 1944-45 when it was composed, the situation in Germany and Austria had changed for the worse.  Taddei, in his introduction to the audience, called it one of the most profound works ever written.  It was written with a Goethe poem in mind, a choral setting of which Strauss rejected in favour of the setting for strings.  It could not help but be a commentary on Germany’s position at the time.

The violin of Vesa-Matti Leppänen struggled to rise in hope above the deeper-toned instruments and their despondent contortions.  There was splendid playing from all, but especially from their leader.   However, there was no let-up in the course the music was taking.  Towards the end, a section of minor chords and solemn homophonic music took over, and there were echoes of the composer’s much earlier Death and Transfiguration (1899).

Taddei’s conducting both works in the first half without the score before him was impressively conspicuous.

For the final work a full orchestra was employed, conventionally seated.  Marc Taddei again introduced the work; there was no separate presenter/interviewer this time, as at some of last year’s concerts.

Enchanting strings opened the Prelude to Capriccio, followed by more solo work for Leppänen.  The winding path of the music through chromatic byways was reminiscent of Metamorphosen, and much Strauss music.  Eventually the horn enters – and so does the soloist.  Sensibly, no break was made between the Prelude and the Final Scene, thus maintaining the mood, unbroken by applause.

The other horns join in, introducing the romantic music to accompany the countess’s thoughts on whether that music by one of her suitors is more important to the opera-within-an-opera than are the words of her other suitor, the poet.  Percussion and woodwind join in the delightful soundscape, then Anna Leese sings, varying her voice beautifully.  The harp adds to the romantic atmosphere; the music absolutely matches the meaning of the words.  Soaring phrases and high notes from Anna Leese were glorious, and appeared effortless.  She fitted the part beautifully.

The large body of strings were given lush orchestration, accompanied by intriguing woodwind flourishes.  Rising and falling cadences reminded me of the wonderful settings of words in the composer’s Four Last Songs, written a few years later and published posthumously.

The ending comes when, the countess having not made up her mind about music v. words, the majordomo (Roger Wilson) comes on to utter one line telling her ladyship that supper is served.  He goes off, and so does she, and a horn ends proceedings, just as it began them.  For his brief effort, Roger was rewarded with a bouquet, as of course was Anna Leese.

The hall was well filled, though not full.  The audience responded enthusiastically to a concert chiefly remarkable for the stunning singing of Anna Leese.  Someone remarked to me afterwards “This was Renée Fleming territory.”

 

Interesting variety of arias and songs from NZSM voice students

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Songs by various composers

Voice students of Te Koki New Zealand School of Music, accompanied by Mark W. Dorrell (piano)

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday, 13 July 2016, 12.15pm

A variety of voices was heard at today’s concert, and a great variety of songs from 18th, 19th and 20th century composers – interesting repertoire.

Stefano Donaudy (1879-1925) was a composer new to me; he was Italian-French, and a resident of Palermo in Sicily.  He composed mainly vocal music, including operas, and is known today for a number of songs, of which ‘O del mio amato ben’ is one.  It was sung to open this student recital by Olivia Sheat (soprano), a fourth year student.  She has admirable voice production and her tone was beautifully sustained.  Along with well enunciated words and inaudible breathing, she made great work of this aria, as indeed with the utterly different ‘I shall not live in vain’ by Jake Heggie (b. 1961), where she characterised the splendid words of Emily Dickinson aptly and mellifluously.  However, I found Mark Dorrell’s accompaniment in the first song, and elsewhere in the recital, rather too loud at times.

Olivia Sheat’s third contribution was the wonderful ‘Mi tradi’ from Mozart’s Don Giovanni.  It was notable that the singer’s spoken introduction to the audience was very clear, and loud enough (without microphone!).  She did not drop her voice, after starting, as so many do.  The aria was sung very dramatically.  She will make a fine opera singer; presence, voice and interpretation were all in line.

Nicole Davey, another soprano (second-year), has a lighter voice, but she gave it plenty of variety.  A problem I find with a few quite noted singers is that although they have voices of fine quality, and sing accurately, they do not vary the timbre or even the dynamics very much.  A Pergolesi aria from his Stabat Mater suited Nicole well, and her ‘Vedrai carino’ from Don Giovanni was sung with very pleasing tone; she phrased Mozart’s lovely music splendidly.  Appropriately, the singer adopted a different vocal quality for ‘Bill’ from Jerome Kern’s Showboat.  In any case, it was set low in her voice.  Not all the English words were clear.

The opposite was the case with mezzo-soprano Elizabeth Harré’s singing of ‘The shearer’s wife’ by Dorothea Franchi, a New Zealand composer (and harpist), who died in 2003.  Here, the English words were clear and precise.  It was interesting to hear a voice so different from the previous singer’s.  Harré’s darker, deeper tone suited her first song: ‘Au cimetiére’ by Fauré.  This was very accomplished singing from a second-year student.  Her legato singing was superb, and her French pronunciation excellent.  It was a very touching performance.

Her final offering was ‘Smeton’s aria’ from Anna Bolena by Donizetti.  The lilting character of this aria was well portrayed.

Another soprano was Elyse Hemara, a third-year student.  She displayed a wide vocal range in her songs, with a rich tone throughout.  Her first song, the lovely ‘Lilacs’ by Rachmaninoff, started low in the voice, while the second, the same composer’s ‘How fair this spot’, was quite high.  Both were sung in Russian, and both, as befitted Rachmaninoff, the great pianist and composer for that instrument, had gorgeous accompaniments, beautifully played.  Her third aria was by Massenet, from his opera Herodiade: ‘Il est doux, il est bon’.  Hemara’s mature voice and good French pronunciation made a good job of it; one could imagine her singing it on an operatic stage, but she would need rather more facial expression and characterisation.

Here, as elsewhere, Mark Dorrell was required to play some complicated accompaniments when substituting for an orchestra, in the operatic arias.

The last singer was another third-year student, baritone Joseph Haddow.  His first song was ‘Die beiden grenadiere’ by Schumann, a setting of words by Heine that needs to display the irony in both poet’s and composer’s views of Napoleon and of war.  Haddow has a strong voice, and sang this song with suitable bravado and panache.  His habit of poking his head forward rather, needs to be overcome.  For ‘Ah! Per sempre io ti perdei’ from Bellini’s I Puritani he adopted a more dramatic tonal quality that suited the aria well.  This was fine singing: he has plenty of volume, but used subtlety as well.  There were one or two slight lapses of intonation – the only ones I heard throughout the recital.

It was a pleasure to hear fresh, new voices; I think that the opening singer was the only one I had heard before.  All were obviously well-taught, and gave intelligent and musical performances.  Naturally, their skill levels varied somewhat, but I think all present would feel pleased with what they heard.

 

Change of players leads to interesting programme nevertheless

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Hutt City Lunchtime Concert Series

Mike Curtis: Five Huapangos
Bréval: Two Airs for violin and cello
Schulhoff: Due for violin and cello

Konstanze Artmann (violin) and Margaret Goldborg (cello)

St. Mark’s Church, Lower Hutt

Wednesday, 6 July 2016, 12.15pm

Sadly, the change from the advertised programme, Maaike Christie-Beekman, mezzo-soprano, with Catherine Norton, piano, was caused by the singer’s illness.  We trust that she is making a speedy recovery.

In its place was an interesting instrumental programme – a different combo from what we usually experience: violin and cello.

Mike Curtis is a contemporary American composer and bassoonist, much influenced by Mexican rhythms, as here, in his suite of Huapangos.  The huapango is a Mexican dance that mixes different time signatures.  The first movements are all named after cities, towns or locations in Mexico. The first, “Santa Cruz” was fast, while the second, “Las Islitas” was slower and more graceful.  The third had a familiar ring to it: “Miramar”.  As well as being a suburb of Wellington, Miramar is a beach resort in south India, and a city in Mexico.  The solo cello played a large part of this movement, a faster one than the previous dance.

“Ofelia” followed, and was more doleful – whether because the location in Mexico City is sad, or due to the famous character in Shakespeare’s Hamlet, I do not know.  Again, there was an unaccompanied cello section.  Finally, we heard “El Llano” (the name of a municipality, i.e. county, in Mexico), a light and airy, strongly rhythmic piece.  The entire unfamiliar work was admirably well played, and enjoyable to listen to.

Jean-Baptiste Bréval (1753-1823) seems to be having a small local revival; his music is being performed by Robert Ibell and Douglas Mews in their current series of concerts around the country for Chamber Music New Zealand.  We were told that his writing for cello was in the viola da gamba style.

The first Air was in theme-and-variations form.  There was much work for the cellist high on the fingerboard, and a great deal of double-stopping for the violinist.  A few intonation lapses in this piece did not spoil the delightfully simple melody line.  The complex variations added a lot of difficulty, however.

The second Air was in a minor key.  Again the air was stated, followed by increasingly complex variations.  The melody alternated between the instruments, which were very well balanced tonally.  The whole had a pleasing effect.

Jewish composer Erwin Schulhoff  (1894-1942) was born in Prague; he died in a concentration camp during World War II.   His duo, written in 1925, was full of interest.  The first movement, Moderato, incorporated left-hand pizzicato for the violinist and playing sequences of harmonics for both musicians.  Mutes were employed to great effect towards the end.  “Zingaresca” lived up to its gipsy name, being bouncy and highly rhythmic.  Left-hand pizzicato was required of both players, and glissandi added excitement.  The movement had a dynamic and jolly effect.

Andantino was the inscription for the third movement.  It began with a sombre theme, and employed lots of pizzicato.  Finally, the last movement was marked Moderato again,  followed by Presto fanatico.  The first part became quite impassioned, then returned to its opening serenity.  That was replaced by chords, followed by the fanatico.  The cello played spiccato, the bow bouncing on the strings while the violin played pizzicato chords.  These effects were interspersed with repeated anxious phrases.

The overall effect was intriguing and musically interesting.

The audience was most appreciative of a concert of unfamiliar but exciting works and of the excellent playing of the musicians, called on at short notice.

 

 

Fine concert from a three-nations piano trio in a three-nations choice of great music

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Waikanae Music Society

Ravel: Piano Trio in A minor
Gao Ping: Su Xie Si Ti / Four Sketches
Schubert: Piano Trio in B flat, D.898

Calvino Trio (Jun Bouterey-Ishido, piano; Sini Simonen, violin; Alexandre Foster, cello)

Waikanae Memorial Hall

Sunday 3 July 2016, 2.30pm

A Canadian cellist, a Finnish violinist and a New Zealand pianist got together at Prussia Cove in England in 2013, and have made a very competent and successful trio.  We were honoured to hear such a fine group of young musicians.

The Ravel work is a much-loved and often performed trio.  It was one of the works performed by the former Canterbury Trio, the death of whose outstanding violinist and teacher, Jan Tawroszewicz, was sadly noted this past week.  There’s a link here: Jun Bouterey-Ishido studied with Diedre Irons when she was a member of the Trio.

The work is a gift for the pianist; the ethereal opening for that instrument is a wonderful start to the trio (first movement: modéré).  It does not end there; the strings enter and add to the magic.  All three instrumentalists are given the opportunity by Ravel to fully exploit the sonorous qualities of their instruments.  They produced vigorous playing when required.

Despite there being little eye contact between the performers compared with what happens in some chamber music groups, these players were obviously well aware of each other, and their ensemble lacked nothing.  The audience sat attentive and spell-bound.

The opening of the second movement (Pantoum: assez vif) was startling; so different from the first.  There was much diversity and liveliness: a vociferous mélange of different sounds and rhythms.  The third movement (Passacaille: très large) begins on the piano, then velvety sounds from the cello and violin emerge.  Noble passages for piano follow.  A muted section for strings was quietly intense.

The fourth movement (Final: animé) was always thoroughly alive; all of Ravel’s twists and turns were meticulously rendered.  One could imagine watching dancers on  a summer’s day, the bees buzzing as the dance became more and more agitated.  This quartet demands much of the players; the Calvino Trio had it in spades.

The Gao Ping work had been written for NZ Trio in 2009.  The first sketch was entitled Xiao (Boisterous), and indeed it was.  Each player was all over the place.  One could feel the bumpy motorcycle ride described in the programme notes.   The second (Cuo Diao; Split Melody) used an intriguing sequence of individual notes; charming. For the third (Dui Wei; Counterpoint), the violinist disappeared, and played her part from behind the screen that masked the door through which the players enter.  Piano and cello began solemnly – this movement refers to  funeral procession, but the violin plays ‘happy music’ while cello and piano continue with mournful music.  This sketch would be challenging to play, but it was both interesting and evocative to listen to.

The final movement (Shuo; Shining) had the violinist back in her place.  Pizzicato on all the instruments was very effective, the staccato continuing on the piano against chords and glissandi on the strings  All was excitement in ending the work.

After the interval came the glorious and familiar Schubert trio.  It opened with verve.  Jun Bouterey-Ishido appeared to be in his element.  He is a very sensitive pianist and colours his phrases beautifully.  All three players seemed well attuned to each other.

A delightfully sprightly passage with cello pizzicato was superbly played, as was the following section with the melody on the cello.  Schubert’s inventiveness was fully on display here.  Dynamics were observed with great panache.  Cellist Foster’s sotto voce pizzicato was delicious.  The pianist, too, had wonderful pianissimo passages that he played with an enviable lightness of touch.  The effervescence of this long movement could not fail to capture the audience.

The andante slow movement was very affecting in its solemnity.  Slight rubati were absolutely consistent between the players.  The many variations held each its own delights and profundities; in short, gorgeous. The scherzo revealed Schubert at his good-natured best.  The waltz trio features off-beat piano accompaniment – an enchanting touch.  The return of the scherzo was given depth as well as liveliness.

The rondo finale was dance-like, with quieter interludes; delicacy and robustness alternated.  It was a joyous performance.  Just a slight loss of intonation towards the end of this movement was the only lapse – otherwise, the playing was faultless.

The pianist always looked as if he was enjoying himself; the violinist often had a slight smile on her face, though the cellist was more impassive, expressing himself through his beautiful playing.

This was a fine concert indeed, and all would wish the Calvino Trio success and enjoyment on the rest of their tour for Chamber Music New Zealand, and in the future.

 

Two fine sopranos in rare, varied, Wigmore Hall-quality recital

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Songs by Mendelssohn, Saint-Saëns, Brahms, Korngold, Schubert, Chausson, Delibes, Berlioz and Britten

Georgia Jamieson Emms and Megan Corby (sopranos), Catherine Norton (piano)

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday, 29 June 2016, 12.15pm

Here was a recital that would have hacked it in the Wigmore Hall, London, or in any other suitably-sized venue, for that matter.  It was good to have a programme (mainly) of duets – so rarely heard these days.

The programme began with great panache, in ‘Herbstlied’ and ‘Maiglökchen und die Blümelein’ from Sechs Duette by Mendelssohn.  The voices were well-matched, and Catherine Norton, as always, was a reliable and sympathetic accompanist.  The pronunciation of German was throughout the concert uniformly very good.  The first song began the recital at a very high standard.  Meaningful facial expressions were employed by both singers, and some hand gestures – the latter a little excessively in Corby’s case.

Mendelssohn’s ‘Auf Flügeln des Gesanges’ (On Wings of Song) is a much-loved solo song; the poem is by Heinrich Heine.  Although it has received many arrangements, I do not remember hearing it as a duet before; it was delightful and charming.

The French love-affair with things Spanish in the latter part of the nineteenth century extended to Saint-Saëns writing a song in that language and idiom: ‘El Desdichado’ (Boléro).  Written originally for orchestral accompaniment, it was a sparkling song that I didn’t know.  There was plenty of scope for the voices, the Spanish character was communicated well, but the piano accompaniment especially was magical quicksilver.

A change of mood came with Brahms; ‘Wie Melodien zieht es mir” is a lovely song, but I would have liked more dynamic variety in this contemplative piece, which was a solo presented by Megan Corby.  Georgia Jamieson Emms followed with her solo, which was ‘Schneeglöckchen’ by Korngold.  This was a lovely rendition of an unfamiliar song.  Its style eminently suits this voice.  The singer gave it varied expression and dynamics most attractively.  I felt she was conveying the meaning of each word.

The greatest writer of lieder, Schubert, was represented by the duet ‘Nur wer die Sehnsucht kennt’ a sombre, sad, dramatic song, quite difficult to perform.  The two voices go their separate ways much of the time.  Catherine Norton’s varying dynamics were superb.

Chausson’s  ‘ La Nuit’ and ‘La Réveil’ (Deux Duos) were much more harmonic in character than the Schubert.  The first was interesting and subtle; the singers’ vowels matched beautifully.  The second was enchanting and engaging; the French pronunciation was excellent.

Still in France, we had ‘Les trois oiseaux’ by Delibes and ‘Le Trébuchet’ from Fleurs des Landes by Berlioz.  The former was a mildly humorous song, in separate episodes for the two voices; depicting the dove, the eagle and the vulture, then the voices came together in thrilling conversation, before separate utterances again, but a unified ending.  The story was communicated brilliantly.

Berlioz’s song was even more amusing, about tentative lovers.  A sparkling accompaniment contributed hugely to a delicious duet performance.

Finally, it was almost strange to hear the English language, in another sparkler: ‘Underneath the Abject Willow’, by Benjamin Britten, a setting of words by poet W.H. Auden.

It would have been good to have had the names of the poets whose words inspired these songs printed in the programme, but it was very useful to have translations of the opening lines, and the composers’ dates.  Music scores were used throughout; in Megan Corby’s case, on an iPad.

With these two singers, there was never any question about intonation.  Both intonation and timing were spot on all the time.  To have such splendid accompaniment was a great bonus.

While not as many attended as at some recent St. Andrew’s lunchtime concerts, those who did were delighted with what they heard.

 

Popular Russian orchestral show-piece, unfamiliar cello concerto and colourful, Hungarian, folk-based music

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

New Zealand Symphony Orchestra
Scheherazade

Kodály: Dances of Galánta
Lalo: Cello Concerto in D minor
Rimsky-Korsakov: Scheherazade

New Zealand Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Miguel Harth-Bedoya, with Johannes Moser (cello)

Michael Fowler Centre

Friday, 17 June 2016, 6.30pm

The programme attracted a nearly full Michael Fowler Centre on Friday.  I had the previous day heard Eva Radich interview Johannes Moser on the Upbeat programme, on RNZ Concert.  What a lovely man he sounded!  His cello sounded lovely too, as we discovered in Friday’s concert.  How good it was that he played a different concerto!  While always loving to hear the Dvořák concerto, it was a great pleasure to hear something different – in fact, so different, and as interesting in the case of the Lalo concerto.

Galánta
The first work on the programme had a striking opening. The different modalities of Hungarian music were almost immediately apparent.  The composer’s collection of Hungarian folk-songs and dances are the basis of most of his music.  This work was composed in 1933.  We heard wonderful subtleties on the clarinet in a slow dance.  The large assembly of strings sounded particularly sonorous here, and when playing pizzicato while flute and piccolo produced soaring melodies.  The French horns had their turn at leading things – all five of them.  Percussion players had many delicate – and some not so delicate – interventions.

The work was a delight of colour, rhythm and finesse, contrasted with exuberance.  It was a feast of fine orchestration, and provided a jovial boost to any Friday weariness.  A furious rush of music towards the end was followed by a sublime clarinet solo, and a final burst of jollity.

Lalo’s cello concerto
The tall, youthful cellist came on; like the conductor, he was not wearing formal evening dress.  He played the concerto without a score.  Harth-Bedoya used the score only for this work (a necessary precaution in a concerto).  Moser’s cello produced a superbly warm, rich tone in his hands.  To have had two cellists of such calibre as Moser and Rustem Khamedullin in the space of a week has been a luxury.

Written by the French-born, Spanish-influenced Lalo in 1876-77, the concerto seemed to have hints of Brahms and Schumann – the latter’s concerto was written over 25 years earlier – and even of Elgar, whose concerto was written over forty years later.

The orchestra began the concerto grandly, and there was much work for the brass to do.  However, the soloist was to the fore almost throughout the work, mellifluous phrases following one after another, with staccato interjections from the winds; indeed, the latter ended the first movement (Prélude: lento – allegro maestoso).

The second, Intermezzo: andantino con moto – allegro presto, began with muted strings.  There was more gorgeous romantic melody from the soloist, and phrases of the utmost delicacy.  Sparse orchestration in this short movement meant no brass or percussion.

The final movement (andante – allegro vivace) opened enigmatically; the soloist with very quiet string accompaniment, initially only cellos.  Suddenly the brass erupted.  Dotted rhythms predominated here and elsewhere.  Parts of the solo in this movement were elegiac.  The playing was never flamboyant, the cello producing a variety of tones that were always lambent, passionate, tender, thoughtful, or whatever was needed.

An encore after a concerto now seems to be an expected addition to the programme.  Moser played the sarabande (another Spanish influence here) from the first Bach Suite for unaccompanied cello.  This he took slower than had Khamidullin on Wednesday in the latter’s sarabande from the third Suite.  It was soulful, considered playing, and at times the utmost pianissimo gave an ethereal quality.  The audience greeted the encore with rapture.

Scheherazade
The major work in the concert was Rimsky-Korsakov’s suite, based on The Arabian Nights.  Scheherazade calls for a large orchestra: there were five horns, nine double basses, a tuba, and large numbers of other instruments too, compared with the requirements of the Lalo concerto.

It is wonderfully dramatic music – I just wish that Radio New Zealand Concert did not play it, or parts of it, quite so frequently.  After the portentous opening depicting the Sultan, it was magical to hear the harp and violin duet denoting the princess (or Scheherazade herself).  These two themes are played countless times, often with melodic, rhythmic or tempo variations, throughout the work’s four sections.  Then the sea took over, relatively calmly at first.  The waves work themselves up gradually, before calm is restored with horn and woodwinds.

The rougher seas return, repeating loudly the theme we first heard as the delicate solo violin and harp near the beginning.  The theme is varied and given many manifestations before returning to the gentle opening.  This ends the section entitled “The sea and Sinbad’s ship”.

This same theme opens the second section, “The Kalendar prince”.  This part follows the pattern of all the sections, in having a variety of tempo markings through its course.  Muted double basses accompany sumptuous oboe and bassoon solos most effectively.  Then a cello joins in, and takes over the solo.  Sinbad’s ship appears to strike some trouble, the brass sounding warnings.  But then everything becomes jolly and highly rhythmic before the bassoon again asserts itself over pizzicato, and the theme returns.

The excellent programme notes (apart from misspelling ‘sprightly’ as ‘spritely’ more than once) mention ‘Rimsky-Korsakov’s mastery of instrumentation’, so much to the fore in this section.  The following one (“The young prince and the young princess”) opens with lyrical music that almost sounded like English music, with its calm melody.  However, it becomes increasingly exotic, and the orchestration richer.  After various goings-on the harp and violin theme returns, then full orchestra takes over again.

The bombastic sultan theme reappears followed by the harp and violin, this time in most virtuosic twists for the latter; Vesa-Matti Leppänen’s solo passages were quite beautiful.  Syncopated rhythms and exciting percussion burst forth,  with lots of concerted string playing, along with brass and percussion interjections.  The strings repeat the big theme.

Wikipedia quotes Steven Griffiths about this work (A Critical Study of the Music of Rimsky-Korsakov,1844-1890. New York: Garland, 1989): “The reasons for its popularity are clear enough; it is a score replete with beguiling orchestral colors, fresh and piquant melodies, with a mild oriental flavor, a rhythmic vitality largely absent from many major orchestral works of the later 19th century, and a directness of expression unhampered by quasi-symphonic complexities of texture and structure.”.

The audience gave a very appreciative response; Harth-Bedoya more or less forcibly removed the orchestra from the stage at the end of quite a long concert.

 

Another hearing from wonderful cellist Khamidullin, at St Andrew’s

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Rustem Khamidullin (cello)

J.S. Bach: Suite no.3 in C for cello solo, BWV 1009
Gaspar Cassado: Suite for cello solo (1926)

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday, 15 June 2016, 12.15pm

Obviously many of the people in the large audience at St. Andrew’s – perhaps most – had heard this brilliant young cellist play with Orchestra Wellington last Saturday night (I did not), and were delighted at the chance to hear him playing solo.

This amazing young man has just turned 27, but has the accomplishment of a much more experienced performer.  His was a demanding programme carried off with great musicality, but no flashiness or histrionics.  He comes from Ufa in Bashkortostan in Russia.  I have to confess that I had heard of Ufa, but not Bashkortostan; Wikipedia reveals that Ufa is a city of over a million people.  Rustem is the son of a pianist mother, and his grandfather was a leading cellist.

In addition to Rustem’s playing last Saturday and today, he is to play at Paekakariki on Sunday, and we have another cellist, Johannes Moser playing the Lalo cello concerto with the NZSO on Friday.  For lovers of this magnificent and versatile instrument, it is a feast.  Today’s music was all based on dance forms.

The Bach Suite is a necessary, but difficult, part of the cellist’s repertoire.  Throughout, this cellist produced a fine tone, and his interpretation was varied and not at all routine.  While he had the score in front of him, he only looked at it in a couple of the later movements; most of the work was played from memory, while for much of the time Rustem’s eyes were cast upwards.

Within the beautifully phrased music there was much subtlety of dynamics.  Mostly, one was not aware of the difficulties, such was the fluency and elegance of Rustem’s playing, not only in the phrasing, but also in the double-stopping, and the rapid bow movements between strings.  It goes without saying that this winner of the Gisborne International Music Competition (2014) and of numerous European prizes had impeccable intonation.

The rendition we heard of the dance movements (prélude, allemande, courante, sarabande, bourrée I and II and gigue) had colour, variety, delicacy and panache.  The sarabande was distinguished by rich and soulful playing, whereas the two bourrée movements had a light, playful touch.  The gigue was fast, despite all the challenges it presents.  The loud passages set  the strings ringing.  This was exemplary cello playing.  Rustem expressed Bach’s wonderful music like a seasoned professional; very impressive.

Gaspar Cassado (1897-1966) was a name I did not know.  He was a Catalan cellist and composer.  His suite was played from memory.  Naturally, it was more romantic than Bach’s music, but also, being twentieth century, was more daring harmonically.  Passages in the opening movement, Preludio-Fantasia based on  Zarabanda (yes, the Spanish origin of the word ‘Sarbande’) were played very high on the finger-board; the piece used the cello to the extent of its possibilities.  It was not technique for technique’s sake, though.  Much of the music was soulful, and almost always the tone was exquisite, although I found the number of times the lower strings slashed the finger-board rather excessive.  The use of harmonics created, as usual, an ethereal sound, but with this player, the tone of these notes was superb.  The playing shared with the Bach its intensity and variety.

The second movement, Sardana, was based on a Catalan round dance of that name (Google shows pictures of it being danced in the open) began very high-pitched, and indeed was very dance-like.  Considerable variation followed.  Nuances abounded.  There was rapid passage-work alternating with soft, pensive, melodic lines.

The third movement, Intermezzo y Danza Finál, was ‘a Jota…a waltz-like dance originating in Aragón’.  A strong opening was followed by pizzicato, then rapid fingering all over the fingerboard.  This is a virtuoso piece indeed, but Rustem was right up with its demands, which were sometimes extremely great.  Despite the numerous technical issues, it was always music that emerged.

A most appreciative and attentive audience heard a phenomenon; someone who is in for a big career.  We were glad to have heard such an outstanding artist at a lunchtime concert.

 

Marvellous music at St Andrew’s Schubert festival: The Trout and Notturno in E flat

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

‘The Ripple Effect’

Schubert: Piano Trio ‘Notturno’, D.897                   `
Piano Quintet in A ‘The Trout’, D.667

Anna van der Zee (violin), Chris van der Zee (viola), Jane Young (cello), Richard Hardie (double bass), Rachel Thomson (piano)

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

Saturday 4 June, 3pm

This was the second concert in the enterprising ‘Schubert at St. Andrew’s’ series over Queen’s Birthday weekend, organized by Marjan van Waardenberg and Richard Greager. Not as many people attended this concert as compared with the well-filled church on Friday evening, but it was still a respectably-sized audience.

The name ‘Ripple Effect’ was appropriate not only for the ‘Trout’ Quintet, but also for the ‘Notturno’ one-movement trio (violin, cello and piano), which opened with beautiful ripples on the piano. The plucking of the strings, too, has a watery feel, which made the work a good precursor to the famous quintet. The musicians played it with the utmost sensitivity to Schubert’s wonderful subtleties.

The dreamy opening of the ‘Trout’ features plucked notes on the double bass, providing a wonderful underpinning to the piano part in particular. Melody is tossed between the instruments in a most skillful but natural-sounding way. I sometimes found the highest notes on the violin rather metallic, at various points in the work. In Schubert’s day, all strings would have been made of gut, therefore the sound would have been less piercing.

The pianist has a very busy part. In fact, the work almost becomes a sextet, when the pianist’s two hands are taken into account.

In the first movement (allegro vivace), the piano often sets the theme, with the other instruments following. This movement ends triumphantly. The second movement (andante) opens with limpid beauty from the piano; again, this instrument leads the themes. Rachel Thomson performed her role superbly well, varying her tone and dynamics depending on whether she was leading or accompanying. The movement was full of rhythmic interest.

Outside, the sky was blue and the sunshine golden. The church interior is painted in these colours, and the music too was sunny, yet cool (in both senses of the word).   The movement ended calmly.

The scherzo third movement (presto – trio) was extremely lively, but its contrasting trio in the middle had poise and contemplation in its make-up, before the scherzo took over again, with vigour and élan.

Then we came to the movement (andantino) that gave the quintet its nickname, ‘Trout’. The theme was Schubert’s song of that name, upon which wondrous variations were based. The treatment of the theme is both delightful and innovative. One variation has the cello and double bass playing the theme while the piano ripples the water over their heads. Then an impassioned variation takes charge in a forte section. The cello’s solo variation is exceedingly beautiful, while the violin’s, in partnership with the viola, returns us to the original song, with piano accompaniment.

The fifth and final movement (allegro giusto) was indeed played with the required gusto, with great regard for the dynamics and with excellent cohesion. Various stormy winds blew in this movement, but the ensemble maintained itself. Throughout, the playing never lost its finesse, nor its onward drive.

The audience fully appreciated the marvellous music, and the musicality of those who performed it for us.

Youth Choir farewell concert before tour to Europe and a competition in Czech Republic

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Farewell Concert
New Zealand Youth Choir, conducted by David Squire

Sacred Heart Cathedral, Hill Street

Sunday, 29 May 2016, 3pm

The choir is shortly to depart on an overseas tour, mainly in Europe and the United Kingdom, and including a choral competition in the Czech Republic. This was one of two farewell concerts; the other is to be in Auckland on 26 June.

There were plenty of people to wish the choir well on its travels – virtually a capacity audience. The concert began with the choir slowly processing into the cathedral singing plainchant that was a combination of Latin and Maori: ‘Te lucis ante terminum’ plus a karanga. It was very unusual but effective. The voices were resonant and the choir’s enunciation was superb, though it was difficult to hear words because of the mixture of languages.

The choir continued in Maori with the action song ‘Te iwi e’ by the Wehi whanau. It was exciting, words and actions utterly precise, most enthusiastically performed and received. The programme items were introduced by Morag Atchison, vocal consultant to the choir which sang the entire repertoire without music scores.

We then reverted to the Latin, in a 1613 antiphon by Peter Phillips (or Philips) ‘Ecce vicit leo’. Part of the choir sang from the gallery, the remainder from the front of the church. Despite this physical distance, the choir’s timing was perfect, and the effect splendid. Felix Mendelssohn wrote much music with Christian texts; here we had ‘Ehre sei Gott in der Höhe’, a Youth Choir favourite. It made a rich sound, and there was great attention to correct pronunciation of the German language, which could be heard to good effect in this building (compared with some others). However, I did not find the soloists (from the choir) pleasing in tone or voice production; it seemed that they were forcing their voices at times.

New Zealand’s premier choral composer, David Hamilton (a former choir member) was represented by his recent composition ‘Angele Dei’. The choir was distributed on three sides of the cathedral. The musical setting was gorgeous. The basses were near my seat, and sang vibrant low pianissimo notes – spine-tingling. Although the blend of the choir was impressive, this is not a white sound; the voices have tone, movement and variety of quality. Attacks and cut-offs were immaculate throughout the concert, as was intonation; all items except one were unaccompanied. All the features of a fine choir were here, yet these singers rehearse together for only a few weeks each year.

Of the 49 singers, many are still students, while others work in a variety of occupations. The traditional regional roll-call found that the largest number from a single location were Wellingtonians (either residents or at university here).

We moved back in time again, to Peter Cornelius’s ‘Chorgesänge’. The nineteenth-century composer’s piece featured solo tenor Manase Latu. What a fine voice he has! The choir, for its part, was in utter unanimity in its dynamic variations and all produced a good forward tone. A feature of their singing in a number of items was the singing of resonant, sustained letters n, m, and l at the ends of words.

A work by Tuirina Wehi, arranged by Robert Wiremu followed. This was a major composition, commemorating the battle in what was known as Te Kooti’s war: ‘Waerenga-a-Hika’ It was sung in English and Maori, representing opposing forces of the 1865 battle. Natasha Wilson was soloist; she has a strong but musical voice, and can produce all the subtleties of Maori vocal style. It was not possible to pick up all the English words because they were overlaid with Maori ones, but the effect was dramatic. The textures became very thick, in a satisfying way. It was an amazing performance; all the more so because the choir was at the front of the church, while conductor David Squire stood towards the back.

After the interval, Vaughan Williams: ‘Full fathom five’, ‘The cloud-capp’d towers’, and ‘Over hill, over dale’, which the choir sang previously in Wellington during the 2014 New Zealand Festival, were performed. Vaughan Williams’s mellifluous writing was enhanced by the subtlety of the choir’s performance and the ‘ding dong’ bells in the first song were very resonant. The second song is one I simply love – the pianissimo harmonies are so luscious; it was sung to excellent effect. Contrasting with that, ‘Over hill, over dale’ sparkled.

Something I noticed about this concert compared with orchestral concerts – and it may be partly because there are words to listen to – was that the audience was more attentive. Coughing was very rare. Another important factor in this concert was the pleasant, involved facial expressions of the choir members– not overdone, but unlike those of some choirs I have heard, whose members look absent, as if they would rather be somewhere else.

Matthew Harris is a contemporary American composer. His setting of ‘O mistress mine’ was charming, while Canadian R. Murray Schafer’s ‘Epitaph for Moonlight’, with words by a group of 12-year-olds, had a number of aural effects of various kinds. The choir was spread around the church again, this time on all four sides. The opening humming by the women was in descending tones and semi-tones. The sustaining of quiet tones was remarkable. Some of the louder singing became rather shrill, if they were right behind one!

New Zealand composer Sarah McCallum (a former member of the choir) was the composer of the next song, ‘The moon’s glow once lit”. It began with women humming, then moving to words in harmony. The men join in, this time unusually on the right with the women on the left. It is a thoughtful song, with interesting harmonies and piquant, affecting melodies. It portrayed well an atmosphere of night-time under the moon’s glow.

Eric Whitacre is a prolific and successful American choral composer. His ‘Little man in a hurry’ was an amusing perpetuum mobile choral song with an equally busy and lively piano accompaniment, played by Dean Sky-Lucas.

The final item was a traditional spiritual ‘This little light of mine’, arranged by Moses Hogan, and sung with good Afro-American style and pronunciation. Soprano Natasha Wilson was again the soloist, strong, but beautiful. The arrangement was quite fantastical, and made a rousing end to the concert. An enthusiastic standing ovation from the audience led inevitably to an encore: a bluesy American song, ‘The nearness of you’, beginning ‘It’s not the pale moon that excites me’, by Norah Jones.

Good programming of great music, superb control, discipline and skill of conductor and choir added up to a memorable night’s experience. Go well in Europe, New Zealand Youth Choir!

 

Diverting harp duo recital affected by too much musical competition

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

NZ Harp Duo
Michelle Velvin and Jennifer Newth, harps

John Thomas: Serch Hudol (Love’s Fascination)
Carlos Salzedo: Chanson dans la nuit and Pentacle
Granados: Spanish Dance no.5 in E minor Andaluza Op.37
Bernard Andrès: Parvis – Cortège et Danse
Debussy: La cathédrale engloutie
Caroline Lizotte: Raga for two harps, Op.41

St. Peter’s Church

Saturday, 28 May 2016, 7pm

This harp duo was enjoyed by all those present, but the atrocious weather and the number of other music events on in the city may have contributed to the rather small audience – approx. 40 people.

The Thomas piece made a good opening work for the concert with its robust tones, demonstrating that harps are not just other-worldly instruments. The beginning could have been a hymn tune, with cheerful chords. It was followed by variations in which the two harps worked beautifully together, and in contrast with each other.

After the bold came more subdued passages, and we moved from hymn tune to folksong. As the programme note said “Thomas drew on his Welsh heritage and folk-music background, to create fantasies on traditional melodies.” The fact that Thomas was a harpist himself (1826-1913) showed in his well-crafted music. It was a thoroughly delightful piece.

Jennifer Newth spoke to the audience about their duo and their forthcoming composition competition to encourage New Zealand composers to write for the harp. She spoke about the next piece to be played, written by Carlos Salzedo, an American harpist and composer (1885-1961), who was born and studied in France. Antiphonal playing between the two instruments was most effective, as was the variety of techniques employed. Plucking low on the strings made a very metallic and loud sound, in contrast with the more usual playing in the centre of the strings. Glissandi were not only of the kind we are accustomed to, but also sometimes using the backs of the hands, so that the fingernails produced a more brittle, less sustained tone. Knocking with the hand on the soundboard was another acoustic feature used here and in other works we heard.

The second Salzedo work was quite a long suite, Pentacle. It consisted of five movements. Jennifer Newth introduced some of the ideas behind the names of the movements. ‘Steel’ proved to create sounds of the industrial age, as she said. There were both loud and soft and repetitive phrases, and a variety of non-traditional harp techniques.

‘Serenade’ she described as having harsh nocturnal sounds, but I did not find it unpleasant. It was followed by ‘Félines’, which was fun, with lots of rapid high notes as of cats scampering lightly around. ‘Catacombs’ was spooky and dark in tone, with many different acoustic effects. I could see the multiple pedal changes Michelle had to make. Among the amazing effects the players achieved was one produced when one hand moved up and down a string while the other plucked, or sometimes stroked the strings in glissandi.

Hitting strings with rods; plucking a string and allowing a relatively long period of resonance were two techniques. In contrast to the latter, was playing in a high register with short, repetitive strokes, then fading to nothing. An ethereal sound was obtained by wiping down the strings with a cloth.

The final movement, ‘Pantomime’, was much jollier and livelier. A great variety of dynamics was obtained by plucking the strings more gently or more sharply. This piece involved quite a lot of playing around with intonation, by techniques involving the head of the strings where they went round the tuning pins. Many of these extended techniques I had never seen before.

After the length and intensity of the suite, it was quite a relief to hear something familiar: Granados’s piece for piano (which I played years ago) transcribed by Salvedo. It worked well on two harps, and the use of different tones made it interesting.

The Andrès work had one harpist tapping on strings with a short stick and then tapping the soundboard while the other plucked her strings as the music moved unrelentingly from solemn procession to dance.

Debussy’s well-known piano piece followed. It was good programming to play a couple of familiar works in a programme such as this. There was a lovely build-up throughout; the music depicts very well the story of the sunken cathedral that rises out of the water at sunrise. The transcription was by our two harpists.

The final work was a challenging one, by contemporary Canadian harpist and composer, Caroline Lizotte. Jennifer mentioned that, along with the obvious Indian characteristics, there was an element of imitated whale song in the work. The piece started with a rod being slid down a string while others were being plucked; a spooky effect. On the other harp there were gentle sounds. The pace and musical variation gradually picked up, switching between major and minor modes.

Suddenly there was a clash on a small Indian cymbal suspended from Michelle’s music stand, and a jingle of little Indian bells which I learned that she had round her ankle. Another element was twisting the strings to give a slow vibrato effect, such as Indian musicians obtain with the strings moved on the frets of their sitars. Along with this we had on the other harp knocking on the soundboard and using a drummer’s mallet on it. Jennifer struck a full-sized cymbal on a stand from time to time. There was yet another drumming sound that I couldn’t track down, though it seemed to come from Michelle’s side. Typically of ragas, the piece built in pace and intensity.

These young women are amazing in their skills, and a credit to their teacher, Carolyn Mills. Their playing seemed impeccable, and the range of techniques astonishing. St. Peter’s proved to be an excellent venue for such a concert, the bright acoustic enhanced by all the wood panelling and seating. There was much brilliance here from two highly skilled and talented performers, but despite this, there was a sameness of sound that palled somewhat by the end of the programme.

An encore was a slightly gentler, quite folksy piece with much variety. It was ‘Flitter Song’ by Charles Guard, a Manx harpist and composer.