Author: Rosemary Collier

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.

 

 

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.

 

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!

 

Triumphant farewell to Inkinen with a neglected Sibelius masterpiece and standing ovation

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

NZSO Inkinen Festival

Beethoven: Violin Concerto in D Op.61

Sibelius: Lemminkäinen Suite, Op.22

New Zealand Symphony Orchestra conducted by Pietari Inkinen, with Karen Gomyo (violin)

Michael Fowler Centre

Saturday, 13 June 2015, 7.30pm

In an interesting pre-concert talk, attended by a large number of people, David Gilling (co-sub-principal second violin in the NZSO) talked about the unusual introduction to Beethoven’s great violin concerto, particularly focusing on the opening motif from the timpani, and how the rhythm is taken up by the other instruments throughout the work’s first movement.   Incidentally, Gilling gave the lie to the story in the programme notes that the performer of the premiere, Clement, interrupted the work to play his own sonata, with the violin upside down!

The soloist was originally to have been Hilary Hahn, who played with the orchestra throughout its 2010 European tour, but she is now pregnant.  The replacement, Karen Gomyo, plays a Stradivarius violin, and would play cadenzas by the famous violinist of former times, Russian-American Nathan Milstein.

The Michael Fowler Centre was well-filled, including the choir stalls – in fact, I could see very few empty seats.

After the timpani notes opened the concerto, and the delicious woodwind that followed, the answer came in a lovely mellow melody when the strings entered. Inkinen kept things moving forward, and made the listener aware of the structure of the work.

Subsequently, Karen Gomyo’s violin entered, with the beautiful rising phrase that simply grew the musical expression, rather than declaring ‘Here am I!’  She made considerable contrasts in tone and dynamics.  However, after a while I found these contrasts a little too much. Nevertheless, there was beauty of tone and great feeling for the music. The first movement cadenza was very fine – and very demanding.

Despite the smaller orchestra for this work than for the Sibelius, one could feel its power, though sometimes the solo did not stand out sufficiently from it.  However, this is partly a matter of taste; after the concert I heard approval in the words ‘intimate’ and ‘integrated’ from audience members.  Having recently heard a description of a Stradivarius compared with a more modern violin, I wonder if a large hall is not the most congenial venue for such an instrument.

The wonderfully peaceful opening of the second movement brought a rich sound from the orchestra.  Again, I found the soloist’s style rather too mannered for my taste, but I admired greatly her bowing and phrasing.  With the lilting solo was magical pizzicato from the orchestra.  The short cadenza seemed to have less to do with Beethoven than did that in the first movement.

The third movement followed without a break, straight into the jolly dance-like theme of the rondo.  It gave much opportunity for interplay between soloist and orchestra, and a chance for warm and sonorous tones on both sides.  It is less profound than the earlier movements, and featured another dazzling cadenza.  Notable was the distinctive bassoon sound.  The ending was not quite together, but overall, this was an enjoyable performance.

We entered a completely different sound-world with the Sibelius suite – an appropriate work for Pietari Inkinen’s last Wellington concert as Music Director.  He now becomes Honorary Conductor, while his energies will be expended on appointments in Japan and Europe. Since he is also a violinist, a violin concerto was also an apt programme choice.

There were mysteries with the Sibelius – not only from the mysterious atmosphere created through much of it, but also the fact that what was marked in the programme notes as the second movement, the well-known Swan of Tuonela, frequently played as a stand-alone piece, was played third, and what was marked as the third movement, Lemminkäinen in Tuonela followed the first movement.

The opening featured brass, followed by remote-sounding strings and woodwind in this  large orchestra.  Strong cellos were a characteristic, there was a sprightly woodwind dance, and brass had plenty of interesting contributions.  Energy built up, and after a passage for the front desk players, there was a fluttering from all the strings, but nevertheless strong rhythmic drive.  Mysterious sounds from drums and double basses boded evil; the remaining strings put much vigour into their playing, before quietude descended to close the movement, Lemminkäinen and the Maidens of Saari.

The second movement, as noted above, was not as in the programme.  Lemminkäinen in Tuonela began with low tremolo from the cellos, then low woodwind was added, followed by the other strings.  This gave a very spooky effect.  Suddenly, the music burst into a typical Sibelius massive cadence, repeated. Beautiful woodwind solos were part of a continual air of mystery – or is it ‘northern-ness’?  A huge crescendo with everyone playing did not dispel the tragic mood; a cello solo against pizzicato ended the movement.

The Swan of Tuonela is a solemn, even sad piece, with solo cello perhaps epitomising the hero, Lemminkäinen.  Most wonderful, though, were the extended passages depicting the swan, painted in gorgeous tones by the cor anglais (Michael Austin).  Lush sounds from the violas came into prominence, before harp and brass added to the other-worldly atmosphere; the phrases were beautifully spun.

The final movement, Lemminkäinen’s Return, found the mood cheerful, even dance-like, after a busy opening.  Jubilation broke out, before a triumphant ending as the hero returns to life, thanks to his mother’s stitchery, after being killed earlier.

The triumph was echoed by Inkinen afterwards, as he stood the soloists and section leaders.  A bouquet and colourful streamers from the side blocks of seating upstairs, a standing ovation and cheers marked the end of his eight years as Music Director of the orchestra.

Coughing interrupted some of the quiet moments of the Suite.  One may not be able to prevent the impulse to cough, but it should be possible to prevent broadcasting it to over 2000 other people.

Another complaint – time was, in the recent past, when we were allowed to read the programme through the concert.  But now the lighting is too dim, and the typeface is unhelpful too.

 

 

Pianist Catherine Norton initiates delightful, welcome renaissance in song recitals

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Songbook: an anthology of songs about song from five centuries

Songs by Finzi, Telemann, Josquin, Mahler, Canteloube, Vaughan Williams, Browne, Wolf, Schoeck, Stephan, Rachmaninov, Hahn, Farquhar, Bolcom

Amelia Berry (soprano), Elisabeth Harris (mezzo-soprano), Declan Cudd (tenor), James Henare (bass-baritone), Roger Wilson (bass-baritone), Richard Greager (tenor). Catherine Norton (piano), Terence Dennis (piano)

Adam Concert Room

Wednesday 10 June 2015, 6.30pm

Resounding congratulations are due to Catherine Norton, who is not only a superb accompanist, but also is the initiator of Songbook.   She has fairly recently returned from study and performing overseas, mainly in the United Kingdom.  She has worked with the Young Songmakers’ Almanac, descendant of The Songmakers’ Almanac, an English vocal group which toured here some years ago with Chamber Music New Zealand.  This doubtless gave her the idea of doing something similar here.

The presence of Amelia Berry (like Catherine an alumnae of Victoria’s New Zealand School of Music) and James Clayton, from Australia, as soloists in the recent production of La Cenerentola was obviously a spur.  Unfortunately the latter was ill, and at short notice some changes had to be made; two stalwarts of Wellington’s vocal scene, Richard Greager and Roger Wilson, plus the fortuitous presence in Wellington of that doyen of accompanists, Terence Dennis (now Blair Professor of Music at the University of Otago) outstandingly filled the gaps.

I was delighted to discover such an innovation as this concert.  I have bemoaned for years the lack of live song recitals in Wellington these days.  Occasional lunchtime concerts feature singers, but mostly they sing operatic extracts.

There are thousands of wonderful songs out there, in a variety of languages.  The audience was treated to a programme printed in a very readable typeface, with full texts and translations where required, the latter by Catherine Norton herself.  Another excellent feature of the printed programme was that not only were composers’ dates and opus numbers of the songs given where possible, but also the year of composition of the songs, plus the names and dates of the poets.

An eclectic selection of songs about songs, or songs containing songs was a good introduction to what one hopes will become a series of themed recitals.  Included in the mix of singers were cicadas, a donkey, a cricket, a couple of cuckoos, and a nightingale – not to mention the occasional lover, of course.

Elisabeth Harris had the unfortunate task of opening the concert at short notice, with ‘Intrada’ by Gerald Finzi. Some uncertain low notes hardly spoiled the performance of this song (poem by Thomas Traherne) and were understandable in the circumstances.  The voice has matured and become more sonorous since I last heard it.  Catherine Norton was a simply superb accompanist, here and throughout the concert.

Amelia Berry sang a short song, entitled in English translation ‘A new thing’ by Telemann.  A delicious song, it typified Norton’s enterprise in selecting the programme; the words in translation read “Presenting something new, / not after the old tastes, / will depress anyone / who does not hatch anything new himself. / But what kind of slavery is it / to set such narrow limits? / whether it is old, or new, it’s enough if it’s useful and delightful.”

Josquin’s amusing ‘El grillo’ (The cricket) was sung by a quartet of the four School of Music graduates.  Their blend and matching dynamics, pronunciation and excellent diction in this unaccompanied piece allowed the audience to enjoy it amply.

From Mahler’s Des Knaben Wunderhorn, Roger Wilson and Terence Dennis performed ‘Lob des hohen Verstandes’ (translated as ‘In praise of higher understanding’).  This amusing song about a singing contest between a cuckoo and a nightingale, judged by a donkey, had Mahler writing in picturesque style, especially when it came to narrating the donkey’s judgement.  It was performed with much
gusto by these two splendid musicians; a dramatisation could hardly have given us much more.

Amelia Berry returned to perform a Languedoc folk song arranged by Joseph Canteloube in 1948: ‘O up!’  A cuckoo featured again, and a cicada.  The excellent French and the style with which Berry put it over embodied the humour. She sang next a Vaughan Williams song ‘Orpheus with his lute’.  She has great tone throughout her range, and her phrasing and enunciation of words are very pleasing. Sometimes I found her a little too loud for the size of the venue.

Catherine Norton had chosen two songs by men who died 100 years ago this year, during the First World War, one English, one German.  Richard Greager sang ‘To Gratiana dancing and singing’ by William Denis Browne, to words by Richard Lovelace – a fine poem.  In this the accompaniment was particularly lovely – and not easy.  Like Roger Wilson, Greager demonstrated that he continues in good voice, and sang this enchanting music so well that it was hard to remember it was at short notice.

This range of gorgeous songs, some familiar; others not, did not even touch on the most famous song writers, except Wolf; his was the next song: ‘Was für ein Lied soll dir gesungen werden’, sung by Amelia Berry.  Again, her language was extremely good, and she introduced light and shade into her rendition.

A poem ‘Ravenna’ by Herman Hesse was set by Othmar Schoeck, a Swiss composer who died in 1957.  The words revealed that Hesse was not particularly impressed by the town, and the setting was unusual musically.  However, James Henare sang it well in his wonderfully deep bass voice.

Tenor Declan Cudd performed ‘The canticle of night’ by the other war victim, Rudi Stephan.  Cudd was the only one of the singers to perform his song from memory, and his full tenor voice was very lively; his performance had plenty of volume when required, and the song demonstrated yet again that all these composers set their poets’ words very well.

The best-known item was Rachmaninov’s ‘Vocalise’, written in 1915 (another centenary).  Amelia Berry demonstrated superb breath control, and varied her voice and dynamics beautifully.  Catherine Norton brought out the melodic phrases in the accompaniment splendidly.

Richard Greager gave great feeling and expression to the French song ‘Le souvenir d’avoir chanté’ by Reynaldo Hahn.  (Wikipedia gives the date of composition as 1898; the 1888 given in the programme seemed a little improbable, even though Hahn was a child prodigy – he was born in 1874).

The New Zealand element, ‘Synaesthesia’ by David Farquhar, a setting of a poem by Cilla McQueen, was sung by Elisabeth Harris.  The repetitive nature of the  accompaniment and also of the vocal line were part of an effective and commandingly sung item.  Like Berry, Harris has learned to use her resonators well.  And Norton demonstrated that she is well able to work in a huge variety of styles throughout what was only three-quarters of an hour.

The programme ended with a song by American William Bolcom (born 1938): ‘Over the piano’, a cabaret song.  Amelia Berry sang it in suitable style, leaning against the piano and supplying appropriate gestures and facial expressions.  The poem ending with ‘Goodbye’ made it an apt end to the recital, although another was in the programme which could not be performed given the absence of James Clayton.  However it would have been fitting: a Hindemith setting of words by Francis Thompson, beginning “Go, songs, for ended is our brief, sweet play”.

It was a treat to hear a programme like this.  Thanks to all concerned – do it again soon!

 

A new Baroque ensemble on a cold evening at Wesley Church, Taranaki Street, musical strengths, but…

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Camerata: Haydn in the Church

Handel: Concerto Grosso, Op.6 no.9
Alessandro Marcello: Oboe concerto in D minor
Haydn:. Symphony no.1

Camerata, led by Anne Loeser, with Peter Dykes (oboe)

Wesley Church, Taranaki Street

Thursday, 28 May 2015, 5.45pm

Camerata is a new, small chamber orchestra.  Anne Loeser is a violinist in the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra, where Peter Dykes also plays.  For the first item, the group consisted of four violins, viola, cello and double bass; only the latter two instruments were played by males (not counting Peter Dykes).

Its programme was attractive, but the hour-long concert did not attract any more than a small audience.  Other negatives were the lack of a printed programme, and above all, the fact that the church was not heated.  On a cold winter’s night, that made the experience much less enjoyable than it should have been.  I was tempted to leave between items on this account alone; my feet, neck and hands were very cold, despite a woolly jumper and a thick coat.

The Handel concerto grosso is a most appealing work.  I did not hear all the introductory comments from the lectern, although there seemed to be some connection with the composer’s organ concerto that is usually given the subtitle ‘The Cuckoo and the Nightingale’.  Perhaps it was too cold a night for these birds; I was not aware of them.  Wikipedia says “The second and third movements are reworkings of the first two movements Handel’s organ concerto in F major, HWV 295, often referred to as “The cuckoo and the nightingale”, because of the imitation of birdsong.

The playing was fine, and idiomatically baroque.  The contrasts between the movements was delightful.  The fast final movement was not quite as accurate as the earlier ones.

Next, oboist Peter Dykes entered, to play Marcello’s oboe concerto – the one commandeered by Bach for a harpsichord concerto (no.3).  This was splendid oboe playing, with appropriate ornamentation according to the practice of the Baroque period.  Marcello was roughly contemporaneous with J.S. Bach.  The adagio slow movement is particularly beautiful.

After its solemnity comes the delightful third movement, presto.  Again, lots of flourishes ornamented the movement gloriously.  The piece is not easy; it is pitched high in the oboe register throughout.

Then came the Haydn in the Church: his Symphony no.1.  Now two horn players were added to the chamber orchestra.  I could hazard a guess at their names, but as one was hidden behind the viola player, I couldn’t be sure.

This is a very bright and enchanting work.  The oboe and horns play in the first and third movements but not in the andante second movement.  The whole was played gracefully with a splendid variety of dynamics. In the second movement for strings alone, I couldn’t help remembering the Baroque Players of old, founded and directed by Peter Walls – a former Wellington-based chamber orchestra.

Intonation was not always perfect, particularly in this movement.  I wondered if the players’ fingers were cold.

The presto finale had the winds back in fine fettle. Altogether, this was a series of creditable performances.  More credit would have accrued if the church had been heated.

 

Revival of Victoria Voices for all-comers a welcome return

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

New Zealand School of Music Te Koki

Music by Mozart, Fauré, Seiber, Hatfield, Krommer, Saint-Saëns

Victoria Voices, conducted by Robert Legg; chamber music ensembles

Hunter Council Chamber, Victoria University of Wellington

Wednesday, 27 May 2015, 7.30pm

The varied programme was presented to a modest-sized audience.

Victoria Voices  was promoted as a new ensemble, but in a sense it is a revival; the School of Music has had choirs before, but not for a number of years.  Of course, the students in it were probably not in its predecessors. There are approx. 50 singers in this all-comers choir of students and staff from various faculties of the university (previous incarnations were auditioned).

Conductor Robert Legg spoke to the audience, but it was a pity he didn’t tell us a little about the less familiar composer: Stephen Hatfield (19156-). Wikipedia tells me that he is a Canadian choral composer and conductor.  His website contains many plaudits.

Legg was very much in charge of the choir, and drew from its members a very pleasing tone, excellent Latin pronunciation in Mozart’s well-known and well-loved Ave Verum Corpus (K.618), together with a most musical performance.  He needs to be aware that too much physical movement from the conductor is distracting for audiences, particularly bending at the knees frequently.  The piano accompaniment from Chelsea Whitfield could have been a little softer.

Fauré’s Cantique de Jean Racine (Op.11) was written when the composer was only 19 years old.  It is a very lovely piece, and delightful to sing.  Here, particularly, the dynamics were well managed, with good attention to detail, but there is yet insufficient blend.

Mátyás Seiber’s  Three Hungarian Folk Songs, the first of which is repeated after the second song, were sung in English, which enabled the audience to understand the humorous words.  These songs, plus the following item, were sung unaccompanied.  There was good attack and articulation in the Seiber, in both words and notes.  The choir obviously has learned the music well, and sang in an appropriately spirited manner.  Here again, the tone was engaging, and now the blend was better.

The Hatfield piece, Living in a Holy City, began in unison – this is often dangerous territory, but the choir managed it well.  This quite complex music was written in multiple parts as the piece
moved on.

Although there were breaks in the programme, there was no interval; this was rather too long a concert to leave the audience sitting without an opportunity to stretch the legs!

Promoted as the launch concert of Victoria Voices, it nevertheless seemed to me that the chamber music content was rather larger than the choral.

The first chamber music item was actually two: Oboe Quartets by Franz Krommer (1759-1831).  I did not completely hear the spoken introduction, but heard that there were four movements; it appeared that there were four movements in total, so perhaps not all of each quartet was played.  The first began as quite straightforward music; the oboe playing was very fine and the violin good, but not always on the spot intonation-wise.  The lower parts seemed relatively easy to play. There was an attractive tone from all players.  A movement in a minor key was played very expressively, and playing passages with detached notes was done with considerable delicacy.

The final quick movement was very will articulated.  This was playing of a high standard, of music that was not the most complicated, but there were tricky passages.  Annabel Lovatt (oboe), Grace Stainthorpe (violin), Craig Drummond-Nairn (viola) and Elena Morgan (cello) performed with considerable accomplishment.

France was to the fore in the rest of the programme, firstly with Nicole Ting (piano), Matthew Cook (violin) and Lavinnia Rae (cello) playing two movements of Piano Trio no.2, Op.92 of Saint-Saëns
(Fauré’s teacher).

In the opening section the piano-playing was far too blurred (i.e. too much pedal), and had neither enough clarity nor sufficient volume to match with the other instruments.  The strings were strong and confident, with good dynamic range; the players had the feel of the work.  The piano came into its own in later loud passages, and then the players really became a trio.  Themes were treated in subtle fashion.

The second movement featured a gorgeous opening theme from the violin, followed by the piano.  Later, the cello took it up sonorously.  There was much fast finger-work for the piano, with very quiet pizzicato accompaniment from the strings.  The movement had plenty of variety, rhythmically as well as melodically.

Now to the pupil: Fauré’s Nocturne and En Prière for violin (Laura Barton) and harp (Michelle Velvin).  What could be more French than the harp?   Michelle wore a short dress, and thus the audience could see her feet changing the pedals.  It was a slow piece but both performers played it very well.

The second piece, like the first, required a lot of independence in the parts; both players produced gorgeous tone.

The Saint-Saëns Fantaisie for violin and harp was understated, but full of meditative gestures, and some drama as well. The two young women (in red dresses, as against the dull black of the other instrumentalists) are both fine musicians.  There was lots of double-stopping for the violin and glissandi for the harp.  It was quite a long work, and seemed to me to run out of inspiration.  However, the playing revealed great rapport between the musicians, and they did the piece proud.

Music of all kinds is in good heart at the School of Music, as this week’s numbers of concerts reveals.

 

Impressive semi-staged Elijah from Orpheus Choir, Orchestra Wellington and superb soloists

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

The Orpheus Choir of Wellington and Orchestra Wellington
Brent Stewart (conductor); Frances Moore (staging director)

Mendelssohn: Elijah

Martin Snell (Elijah), Lisa-Harper-Brown (widow), Maaike Christie-Beekman (Angel), Jamie Young (Obadiah), Archie Taylor (Boy); voice students of New Zealand School of Music,

Michael Fowler Centre

Saturday 23 May 2015, 7.30pm

I found this performance of Elijah entertaining, inspiring, and of a very high standard.  So did the large, attentive audience, who responded enthusiastically.  After the performance, I heard many favourable comments.

The first thing that struck one coming into the auditorium was the huge screen behind the choir seats.  However, it was not used for projecting images, but was simply suffused with colour.  The colour chosen varied with the mood or location of the various sections of the oratorio.

Martin Snell came on, in business suit but without a tie, and sang the words of the introductory oration, then while the orchestra played the Overture, the choir wandered in, wearing casual clothes in white or light colours, which I took to denote a Middle Eastern setting – but this made it curious that the soloists were dressed in modern garments.  It was good to see the choir appearing to have personalities, rather than being in their usual dour black, which makes the members fade into the background. Bright lighting enhanced the visual effect.

The orchestra members were placed on low platforms, to be above the action on the front of the stage.

Martin Snell immediately impressed; he was in fine voice.  In a radio interview he had said that he had sung the oratorio numbers of times in its language of writing: German, presumably in Germany and Switzerland, where he is based.  (This rather gives the lie to Roger Wilson’s assertion in his excellent programme note, that it ‘is seldom performed in Germany’.)  Snell therefore found it quite difficult, he said, to fit the English words to the notes.  However, that was not apparent.  Except that he sang entirely from the score.  In their much smaller roles, Harper-Brown used it some of the time, but Maaike Christie-Beekman not at all.

After performances in the 1950s and 1960s, the Orpheus Choir sang the work in 1971, and then not again until 1999, when there was a semi-staged performance, when Rodney Macann, dressed in sackcloth, sang the title role entirely from memory, moving round the stage in dramatic fashion.  However, apart from several other soloists being in costume, that version bore little relation to this semi-staged version.

Some of the choir were initially disposed at the front of the stage as a semi-chorus (where they could not see the conductor), before later taking their places in the main chorus.  The orchestra set the atmosphere well.

Brent Stewart conducted clearly and decisively, although it seemed to me that in the first half he was conducting with his hand, the baton being merely an extension.  However, in the second half he found his baton technique.

Almost throughout the performance, the projection of words by both soloists and choir was good – but I was sitting fairly near the front.  All the soloists sang as the real professionals most of them are; this applied also to a couple of the NZSM students who had minor roles of some significance: Katherine McIndoe and William McElwee.  It was most impressive to observe the resonance Martin Snell obtains by using the resonators of the face to assist in delivering the goods.

The orchestra’s every note, rhythm and dynamic seemed to be in place.  This was true of the choir also; I only observed one false, stumbling entry in the whole work in which, after Elijah, the choir has most to do.

I was tempted to say that this was Martin Snell’s night, such is the size of his role and the quality of his performance.  That would be unfair – it was also the choir’s and the orchestra’s night.  Snell handled the high tessitura of most of his role with aplomb – and got an opportunity to use his low notes in the quartet ‘Cast thy burden upon the Lord’, one of the most beautiful moments, with its solo quartet sections and intervening orchestral passages.

There were a few judicious cuts in the work, to bring the length down, but the only number I really missed was the felicitous ‘He that shall endure to the end’.  It would have been another demonstration of the huge variety of Mendelssohn’s writing; his ability to move from rousing to contemplative, to delicate, from chorale-like harmony to fugue.  In the delicate category was the lovely trio ‘Lift thine eyes’, sung by a women’s semi-chorus – in this case, the NZSM students, as angels, sited in the left gallery.  Here, I felt there was insufficient lightness, blend, or ethereal textures.

Elsewhere, they produced lovely tone, balance and blend, although I found them insufficiently impassioned as the priests of Baal (re-costumed in black) compared with the following chorus from
the full choir.  One feature of the choir’s singing was that fortissimo passages were sung with lively tone that was still pleasant on the ear, for example, in ‘Woe to him!  He shall perish’.  In contrast was the delicious ‘He, watching over Israel’, all calm and dignity.

The full choruses were splendid, as was Lisa Harper-Brown, in her roles as widow and soprano soloist.  Jamie Young, the tenor, was a little uneven.  In his first solo, ‘If with all your hearts’ he was fine, apart from a couple of strained higher notes.

Action there was, but it seldom distracted from the music, and in fact added drama and interest.  The inherent drama in the music and words was demonstrated, in a naturalistic way.

Elijah’s solo ‘It is enough!’ featured a solo cello that both precedes the sung aria and continues through it.  This was exquisitely played by Brenton Veitch.  Another delightful instrumental solo was for oboe, in Elijah’s aria ‘For the mountains shall depart’.

Archie Taylor performed his role as the boy more than satisfactorily.  He had to act as well as sing; his voice was clear and true.

The famous solo ‘O rest in the Lord’ was beautifully sung by Christie-Beekman, without being made too sentimental.  The orchestral accompaniment was a marvel of delicacy and subtlety.  I was horrified to see in the printed programme (but not in Roger Wilson’s note) ‘Oh rest in the Lord’ – using the feeble exclamation instead of the ‘O’ of invocation.

The chorus, appropriately, have the last word, singing ‘And then shall your light break forth’.  Who said Mendelssohn was not a genius?  In my book he was, and this triumph of a performance was another proof; the opera he never wrote.

The production involved movement for the choir as well as for the semi-chorus and soloists; all this was a lot of work for a one-off performance.

 

School of Music Orchestra wins audience delight with demanding programme

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Te Kōki New Zealand School of Music

Smetana: Vltava (‘The Moldau’, from Má Vlast)
Ginastera: Harp Concerto, Op.25
Lilburn: Diversions for String Orchestra
Shostakovich: The Golden Age Suite Op.22 (Introduction, adagio, polka, danse)
NZSM Orchestra conducted by Kenneth Young, with Jennifer Newth (harp)

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

Tuesday, 19 May 2015, 7.30pm

Once again, the audience was treated to a very demanding programme brought off with skill and panache by the NZSM orchestra, with the help of quite a number of guest players.

It coupled the familiar with the unfamiliar.  The opening piece from Smetana’s Má Vlast was familiar, but seldom programmed recently, within my hearing.  It provided a good work-out for a student orchestra.  There was plenty of scope for the flutes at the opening, and soon for the other woodwinds.
A quieter second section featured strings, flute and harp, with subtle brass support, in a delicious representation of the flows of the great river Vltava.  The grand theme returns in the last section, in more excitable mode, with full brass and percussion.  This was a very creditable performance.

Ginastera’s harp concerto was completely new to me, and it was interesting to read the programme notes describing the history of its first performance.

Amazingly, Jennifer Newth, who has recently graduated with first class honours in music, played the complex solo part without the score.  The harp must surely be the most difficult instrument to be found in a symphony orchestra, yet this accomplished musician played with apparent ease the most demanding passages, using a range of techniques, described in her programme note as ‘pedal slides’  (which I observed – the sound continued to change even though no fingers were on the strings) ‘harmonics, whistling sounds, ‘falling hail’ glissandi and gushing chords.

Along with her virtuoso playing rising to the composer’s demands, there were considerable challenges, for the large percussion section, which were fully met, including plenty for xylophone to do.

In the first movement, a dreamy slow melody was particularly attractive, while in the second movement a modal melody performed on various instruments was notable.

The third movement’s extended harp solo demonstrated the huge range of the harp’s capabilities, and those of the performer, as described above; its final section began with an enormous glissando, something the harp can do so magnificently.  The percussion was in its element with complicated technical work; the xylophone was a good counterpart, with its wooden quality, to the ethereal nature of the harp sound.  There was little brass in this work – just two trumpets in the last movement only, but a celeste, along with frequent suspended cymbal vibrations, contributed to the exotic atmosphere.

This was a bravura performance, and the audience’s response was appropriately prolonged and enthusiastic.

Ginastera was a hard act to follow, but the early Lilburn work proved to be a pleasant interlude between the more intense and exciting works for full orchestra.  The writing for strings was delightful.  After a lively sparky opening, the second movement was contemplative, with nevertheless, as in the first, lots of pizzicato.  The third section was faster, with repeated quavers, while in the fourth some discords that became typical of Lilburn’s writing appeared, but there was little of his later very prevalent dotted
rhythmic figures.

The final movement featured leaping figures at various levels of pitch – then a sudden ending.  The Diversions proved to be a most enjoyable work, and was played with verve and splendidly rich tone.

The Shostakovich work provided both humorous content and sufficient technical requirements to live up to the effect created by the Ginastera work.  The programme note described the scenario of the ballet for which the music was written: a worthy tale of the superiority of the Communist ethos over that of Western nations, as worked out through the visit of a Soviet football team to a Western city.

Shostakovich’s satirical writing could be interpreted as ‘getting at’ the capitalist West – or deriding the very scenario and the ideology behind it.  It gave rise, in these four movements, to some hilarious musical expression.  Not that it was easy; it is hard to imagine a student orchestra even20 years ago tackling such demanding music as this.  It employed full orchestra (but no harp).  I find brass plus piccolo and percussion playing at forte or beyond far too loud in this venue: a very resonant acoustic in a no particularly large church.  Perhaps there is no alternative.  The orchestra has played in Sacred Heart Cathedral, which is only slightly larger and with an equally lively sound.

Please, Wellington City Council, get on with strengthening the Wellington Town Hall, or respond to former Councillor Rex Nicholls, who through his letter in Dominion Post, called for the hall to reopen.

After a rousing introduction, the highlight of the work, viz. the second movement was an extended slow piece that was most affecting, and contained much of interest, not least the appearance of bass clarinet and particularly the solos on soprano saxophone by Genevieve Davidson, and also solo violin from the orchestra’s leader, Laura Barton.  Later, there was gorgeous playing from solo clarinet and solo flute.

The third movement reverted to the jocular mood apparent in the first; the polka was good fun, with a wonderful tune for the xylophone and a sardonic popular song from the trombones.  The Danse finale revealed great precision of rhythm at considerable speed.  But it was so loud that the audience’s applause sounded quiet by contrast.

Nevertheless, all concerned should be thoroughly pleased with their efforts, as the audience was.