Author: Rosemary Collier

Admirable, engaging performance of Noye’s Fludde in the Festival’s periphery

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

New Zealand Festival and New Zealand Opera

Britten: Noye’s Fludde

Robert Tucker, Joanne Hodgson, Bryan Crump, large cast of children and young people, Wellington Youth Sinfonietta, Arohanui Strings, Hutt Recorder Group, Samuel Marsden School Handbells, all conducted by Michael Vinten and directed by Jacqueline Coats

Te Rauparaha Arena, Porirua

Saturday, 8 March 2014, 5pm

The production of Britten’s community opera, written in 1957, in a large venue with a huge cast of singers and instrumentalists was a major undertaking, and all acquitted themselves well.

Although it appeared that the majority of the audience consisted of parents and grandparents of cast members, everyone seemed to enjoy themselves, and the participants had a valuable experience of
taking part in such a show, where everyone must know their part, and co-operate with many others.

This was a performance that improved as it went along; two subsequent performances in a smaller venue in Berhampore next weekend should benefit from this first outing.

Britten based the work on a 15th century mystery play (or was it 16th?  The printed programme gives both but Google sources favour the former date) from Chester. All the action taking place on a central stage with several level echoed the original’s performance on a cart, which could be moved from place to place.

Prior to the performance, the audience was  rehearsed by Michael Vinten for its part: the singing of three hymns at various points in proceedings.  It did this  extremely well, I thought.

The action began with the arrival of Noah  (Robert Tucker) and the voice of God (Bryan Crump) instructing him to build the Ark.  There was some loss of clarity  early on from both characters; all solo voices were amplified, and sometimes this obscured rather than enhancing the voices and especially the words.  Robert Tucker, as a superb and experienced  opera singer, surely did not need amplification, and I fancy he did away with  his face microphone at some point.  His  strong, accurate and characterful baritone voice and his acting were splendid.

Joanne Hodgson, as the doubting wife, acted  her part believably; her gossiping friends’ over-acting was obviously deliberate.  Their affinity with drinking  was manifest in their carrying milkshake containers – apt for a family show.

The parts for the Noah sons and their wives  were played by children, and here the projection of voices was more problematic.  All had face microphones, meaning that the sound came from the directions of the six loudspeakers situated on three sides  of the platform.  This meant loss of identification and direction, and a merged sound, instead of each being an  individual.  Much of the time it was difficult to see which one was singing at any given time, or differentiate the  voices.  They all had attractive voices and knew their parts, though consonants did not come over well.  I have to admit it would have been difficult for such young voices to project sufficiently in such a large space.  Britten wrote the work for performance in a
church or a theatre; smaller places much more resonant for the human voice.  I am sure he never envisaged such a large venue as the Arena.

Perhaps at Berhampore, in a smaller venue, they can dispense with the amplification.
Coincidentally, that very day I had been reading a piece on the subject written by my colleague Lindis Taylor, some years ago.  He pointed out that focus, balance and  quality are muddled and distorted, and can be lost by the amplification of the solo human voice.

The Gossips and the Animals were not amplified, and thus their voices sounded direct, natural, and had individual character, while blending well; of course, they had the volume of numbers on their side.

The words were in the main from the mystery play, but the animals when they first came on sang ‘Kyrie’ (Lord have mercy), and when they went off at the end, they repeated ‘Alleluia’.  The energy and rapid movement of the animals were delightful, as were the depictions of the raven and the dove.  These were danced, with avian props, by Brooke Raitt and Sophie Plimmer.  The rainbow took the form of strings of coloured pennants, which were raised at the end, and attached to the mast of the Ark, after sun, moon and stars had been paraded, and placed around the Ark.

The cardboard animal headgears, and in some cases, representations of birds and other creatures on hand-held poles, were enchanting, though not as elaborate as I have seen previously nor as shown in photographs of a performance supervised in 1958 by the composer.  Also apt and telling were the lengths of appropriately coloured cloth waved beside the ‘Ark’ to represent the rising waters.  Actions of the animals on board likewise represented the movement through water.

The orchestra of children and young people performed the lively score extremely well, especially the percussion, the Samuel Marsden handbells who played at the end, the recorder bird-songs, and the hunting horns located in the upper gallery, away from the audience and other performers.  However, this is not to demean the large force of string players, who carried most of the orchestral work most proficiently.

The performance amply demonstrated Britten’s genius in writing such a diverse work for juvenile forces.  All in all, it was an enjoyable and engaging production, despite some problems, and plaudits are due all round.

There are two further performances in Berhampore next Saturday, 15 March, at 2.30pm and 5pm, in the Wellington Chinese Sport & Cultural Centre, Mt Albert Road, Berhampore.

 

Bach Collegium Japan leaves audience wanting much more after Bach Lutheran masses

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Bach Collegium Japan, soloists from the choir, directed by Masaaki Suzuki

Johann Sebastian Bach:
Sinfonia from Cantata Am abend aber desselbigen Sabbats BWV 42
Lutheran Mass in A, BWV 234
Lutheran Mass in G minor, BWV 235

Michael Fowler Centre

Thursday 6 March 2014, 7.30pm

The magical performance by the Bach Collegium Japan under its inspiring Director, Masaaki Suzuki, left one wanting more.  Indeed, the Festival programme led us to believe we would get more, listing the duration as “2hrs 20mins (no interval)” despite an Interval being listed just above that.  However, it was not to be.  The concert lasted one hour and 40 minutes, including an interval.

Compared with the previous evening’s St. John Passion, this was unfamiliar music.  An extraordinary fact about the Lutheran Masses is that most of the music was adapted from the composer’s cantata movements, where the words would have been in German.  To reconstruct them with words with different syllables and emphases must have been quite a task.

Before the choral works, we were treated to the Sinfonia from the Cantata BWV 42.  This was lively, cheerful music, made more so by the sound of the period instruments (and bows) employed: initially, strings and chamber organ, later joined by oboes and a bassoon.  There were no flutes in this piece.  After it, conductor Suzuki invited applause especially for the wonderful woodwind playing.

Suzuki told us in his lunchtime talk on Wednesday that original instruments restrict the player to the appropriate style for the music of their period.  He suggested that the beauty of the movements selected by Bach was probably the reason for their reuse in the Lutheran Masses.

All nineteenth and twentieth century composers were influenced by Bach, he said.  In Suzuki’s eyes, Bach’s compositions were a work of God.  He found Bach his home, whereas conducting Stravinsky and Mahler (as he does) were like going on a picnic.

The choir entered; only 18 singers, comprising four sopranos, two female altos and two counter-tenors, five tenors and five basses.  For the Lutheran Mass BWV 234, there were no oboes, but two transverse wooden flutes, played standing.

With the opening Kyrie, one was immediately struck by the choir’s clarity, attack, and distinct consonants.  The following Gloria was a delightfully bright movement, the tenor solo at ‘Adoramus te, glorificamus te’ featuring a gorgeous tenor solo from Gerd Türk, in which even tone throughout the range was notable.

The four soloists were all non-Japanese: the soprano was Joanne Lunn (English), the counter-tenor, Clint van der Linde (South African), tenor Gerd Türk (German), and bass Peter Koolj, (Dutch).

A bass aria followed: ‘Domine Deus, Rex cœlestis’.  The bass’s voice had great richness, yet everything was enunciated and delivered clearly.  The accompanying violin solo from orchestra leader Ryo Terekado was beautifully phrased, and delivered with warm tone, yet the playing was incisive.

It was next the soprano’s turn, with the two flutes, in ‘Qui tollis peccata mundi’.  Here was more incisive performance, yet Joanne Lunn made the performance dramatic, including not being able to resist some hand gestures.  The singer used little vibrato, but employed ornaments, which reminds me of a lovely story told by Maasaki Suzuki at his lunchtime talk.  He said that when he went to Belgium to study organ, after first learning the instrument in Japan, he began with the famous Ton Koopman.
Koopman encouraged his pupils to create ornaments in profusion, in baroque music.  Following study with him, Suzuki had lessons from another well-known Dutch organist, Piet Kee.  The latter decried all the ornaments, and told Suzuki to get rid of them!

The flutes were quite delicious in the ‘Qui tollis’, and a large section of the orchestration was for them, with violas and second violins.  The effect, and the playing, was of sublime loveliness.

Joyous, reassuring music followed in the counter-tenor’s solo ‘Quoniam tu solus sanctus’.  Graceful long lines and superb quiet singing made this movement perhaps the most beautiful of all.

It was followed by the chorus singing the final movement ‘Cum Sancto Spiritu’.  Here, the flutes did not sound out very well in the Michael Fowler Centre acoustic when all the choir and orchestra were holding forth – but when you could hear them, they were exquisite.

We were in for an unprogrammed treat after the Interval: a movement from a Bach cantata (sung in German), for counter-tenor, with two violins, cello, and chamber organ (played by the maestro himself, whereas in the other works it was played by Masato Suzuki – the maestro’s son?).  The spare sound, in contrast to what we had heard before, was delightful – enhanced by the gut strings (though the difference these make is less noticeable from the cellos).

The singer’s expressive voice, varied dynamics, and greater level of communication with the audience than that of some of the other soloists, made for a fine performance, much appreciated by the large (but not full) audience.

The choir and remaining orchestra came on for the Lutheran Mass in G minor. The Lutheran Masses set only the Kyrie and Gloria, not the full Mass, but the sections of the Gloria set differed between the two Masses. The opening Kyrie of this second one featured the oboes again.  Their sound had bite, yet was mellifluous.  The flowing, interweaving lines were wonderful to hear.

The Gloria chorus was marked by quite detached notes, unlike the Gloria in the previous Mass.  Throughout both works, the pronunciation of words by the choir was uniform and precise, with excellent Latin syllables – no ‘tay’ for ‘te’ or ‘dayo’ for ‘Deo’.  The choir delivered a strong tenor line on the words ‘Laudamus te, benedicimus te’.

The bass aria ‘Gratias agimus’ (the latter pronounced with a hard g) accompanied by violins and a continuo consisting of organ, two cellos, bassoon and double bass, was outstanding, and was followed by the counter-tenor singing ‘Domine fili unigenite Jesu Christe’.  This was very florid setting, with wonderful soaring notes, and somewhat pastoral in its effect.

No soprano solo this time; the last solo was from the tenor, whose warm and expressive voice, clear consonants and effective suspensions were accompanied by an incisive solo oboe.

The final chorus, ‘Cum Sancto Spiritu’ gave parts of the choir the chance to shine, especially a good bass lead part-way through, followed by strong sopranos.  This was a triumphant sound, with strength from both singers and instrumentalists, especially the cellos and double bass, whose parts echoed the opening of the previous mass.

The soloists’ inconspicuous moving from choir to the front of the platform and back again was a feature that meant little disruption to the music or to the visual presentation.  The choir stood throughout their performances.

The precision, accuracy, balance, tone and musicality of the ensemble made a lasting impression on everyone I spoke to; this was an outstanding contribution to the Arts Festival, and an uplifting experience for all who were present.

 

Festival presents Shakespeare songs from two choirs in admirable literary and musical contexts

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

New Zealand Festival.  Sounds and Sweet Airs : Songs of Shakespeare

New Zealand Youth Choir and Voices New Zealand Chamber Choir, conducted by David Squire and Karen Grylls

Wesley Church, Taranaki Street

Tuesday, 25 February 2014, 6:30 pm

An attractive programme and renowned performers had Wesley Church pretty full, including many people sitting in the gallery; this, despite the hefty prices for a concert lasting one hour and ten minutes ($58, $38 child, $53 Friend of the Festival).

The Youth Choir comprised 50 voices, and Voices New Zealand 16, with the result that at full stretch the combined choirs were very resonant in the wooden church.  A delightful feature was that members of the choirs read the Shakespeare texts prior to each group of songs.  This helped the audience to follow the songs (although the sung words were always projected with great clarity), and to grasp the meanings and nuances before listening to the musical settings; they were read with care and expression.   It was gratifying to have the lights on in the church, so that the audience could read the excellent programme notes that gave the titles of the plays from which the songs came, and a few lines about the context of each song.

After the first reading, we heard Caliban’s Song from The Tempest, set by prolific New Zealand choral composer David Hamilton, who was present.  This was sung by both choirs, with David Squire conducting.  It began with half the choir intoning, while the other half spoke the words in loud whispers.  When all sang, a magnificent sound emerged, with skilled, confident production and lovely variation of tone.  It was a very evocative setting.  Blend, balance and intonation were virtually impeccable.

Following this, the Youth Choir sang three songs set by Vaughan Williams: ‘Full fathom five’, ‘The cloud-capp’d towers’ and ‘Over hill, over dale’. I am very familiar with these supremely beautiful settings, having a recording (yes, an LP) of Swingle II singing them.  The accuracy, shaded dynamics and sensitivity to the words was almost as good from the Youth Choir – quite an achievement, given the group’s much larger size. All three songs demonstrated Vaughan Williams’s capture of the music of the words. He did not endeavour to surpass Shakespeare’s wonderful words, but rather to illustrate them.

The same composer’s ‘Willow Song’ from Othello featured fine, controlled legato singing.  The simple setting was appropriately sad in tone.  The second setting of the same words, by David Hamilton, saw the choir reorganised into  two choirs.  This more ornate setting was in a minor tonality, and full of feeling.

Jakko Mäntyjärvi (b.1963) (Wikipedia says ‘Jaakko’) is a Finnish composer, choral singer and conductor.  His Shakespeare songs are some of the most evocative in the repertoire: ‘Come away Death’ (Twelfth Night), ‘Lullaby’ (A Midsummer Night’s Dream), ‘Double, double, toil and trouble’ (Macbeth; described in the programme note as ‘The three witches’ Mediaeval cookery programme’) and ‘Full Fathom Five’ (The Tempest).  These were sung by Voices New Zealand, under Karen Grylls.

The  first was a very interesting and descriptive piece.  Fastidiously observed crescendos and decrescendos were a feature. ‘Lullaby’ (the one beginning ‘You spotted snakes with double tongues’, from A Midsummer Night’s Dream) was more innovative, but like Vaughan Williams, Mäntyjärvi always put the music at the service of the words, not the other way round.  In ‘Double, double, toil and trouble’ some of the words were recited in witch-like voices.  ‘Full fathom five’ sounded to be difficult, but it was a beautiful, effective setting, with gorgeous bass notes, like bells sounding deep in the sea.

The same words were set by Richard Rodney Bennett; this gave the most contemporary sound in the programme so far, and was preceded by a single note on a bell.  The bell was echoed in the voices by resonant ‘dongs’, of superb timbre.

A second English composer who died recently was John Tavener.  His ‘Fear no more’ from Cymbeline was aptly described in the programme notes as ‘searing and ecstatic with… dissonant harmonies and longheld chords’.  Magnificent forte and piano contrasts illuminated the marvellous text.  Gerald Finzi’s wonderful setting is familiar, but here and elsewhere the inexhaustible impact of Shakespeare’s words has inspired another worthy setting.

The Youth Choir rejoined Voices on the platform for five songs by Matthew Harris (b.1956), a highly productive American choral composer.  The first, ‘Tell me where is fancy bred’ (Merchant of Venice) was given a very straightforward setting; it demonstrated the excellent balance and dynamics of the singers.  ‘I shall no more to sea’ (The Tempest) and ‘When that I was and a little tiny boy’ (Twelfth Night) revealed the attractiveness of the settings, and also the skill of the choir with all members not only pronouncing vowels in the same way, but consonants also.  The latter song became quite complex and thick in texture.

The fourth song, ‘It was a lover and his lass’ (As You Like It) sounded rather conventional until a key change lifted the action, later reverting to the original key.  The final song, ‘When daffodils begin to peer’ (A Winter’s Tale) was written in quite a folksy style – there was even a Kiwi accent on the word ‘to’!

It was interesting to hear a programme of entirely English songs; the performances illustrated Dame Janet Baker’s assertion that English is not a difficult language in which to sing well – at least for English speakers who have been well trained.

The concert ended with two settings of ‘O mistress mine’ (Twelfth Night).  Andrew Carter’s was notable for beautiful word-painting and rich, multi-part harmony. Finally, a setting by doyen of British choral conductors, Sir David Willcocks, also rich in word-painting, the placement of the words being even clearer.  Interesting modulations ornamented the text.

The entire performance was characterised by captivating finesse, and did honour to Shakespeare.  Bravo!

‘Great Music 2013’ on lute and organ: wonderful Messiaen

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Bach: Suite for Lute in G minor, BWV 995
Messiaen: La Nativité du Seigneur

Jennifer Chou (organ); Stephen Pickett (lute)

Wellington Cathedral of St. Paul

Friday 6 December 2011, 7.30pm

It is almost exactly two years since I reviewed Thomas Gaynor playing the same mighty Messiaen work, which dates from 1935,  in the same Cathedral series (though that was a lunchtime concert).

About the same number of people were in the audience on both occasions: around 40. However, there was at least one major difference this time: the audience was seated in the gallery above the main door, at the back of the church.  As a note in the printed programme had it, the organ sounded ‘clear and powerful’ from this position (mostly).

The lutenist sat facing the audience, in front of the balcony rail of the gallery. This enabled us to hear him; almost any other position in the Cathedral would have made this difficult or impossible.

It was an interesting juxtaposition of one of the quietest instruments against one that is potentially the loudest.  I found the contrast too great.  The opening Allemande from the Bach Suite sounded rather dull, and in light of what we heard later, it was monochrome.  The playing was so gentle and quiet that it was hard for the sound, in the early part of the evening, to conquer those of coughing and of traffic. However, the gallery was a good place to deliver the desirable intimate ambience, and to enable us to be close to the lutenist.

I know nothing about lute technique, but it seemed to me that an occasional twanging sound on the lower strings was unfortunate, as was the uneven tone produced, some notes sounding strongly while others disappeared.

Jennifer Chou is based in Australia, and is a highly competent organist.  She followed the lute’s Bach Allemande with the first three movements of the Messiaen work; the two further batches of movements were interspersed with movements from the Bach.

Thus we heard ‘The Virgin and the Child’, ‘The Shepherds’ and ‘Eternal Purposes’ in the first sequence.  The excellent programme notes and introductory article about Messiaen were by one David Gammie.  His descriptions of the movements, based in part on Messiaen’s own notes about the music, were very descriptive.  The words about the first movement, based on the plainsong ‘Puer natus est’, were apt: words such as ‘hypnotic dance’ and ‘the music takes flight in an exquisite flute cadenza’.  While the music is vivid, and quite different from any other composer’s works, at times there seems to be a traffic jam of contrasting sounds, rhythms and timbres.

The subtle, ethereal effects used in the second movement are unique to Messiaen. But I was sure I heard the tones of the donkeys, too!  Or perhaps it was a result of memories of John Rutter’s Brother Heinrich’s Christmas at Te Papa the Sunday before last.

The third movement, ‘Eternal Purposes’ was concerned not with the Christmas story but embodied more profound ideas.  Its slow, even ponderous pace was almost soporific, or at least mesmerising.  The lower chords did not sound very distinct, at the considerable distance we were from the pipes.

More lute music, this time the Sarabande and Courante.  Although the former is certainly a slow dance, this rendition seemed a bit too slow to dance to.  The notes were not sounded with equal clarity, and a few were out of tune.  The second dance had more pace, spirit and volume, and involved more counterpoint.

Back to Messiaen.  ‘Le verbe’ (The Word) incorporated many colours from the wide palette available (and Messiaen was one of those rare individuals who saw colours when he heard musical sounds).  The long solo on the cornet stop produced delicious tones.  The solemn melody had a noble character.  The organ certainly sounded very well from the gallery in this movement, giving not only a fine demonstration of the range of pipes, but also precision in the dynamic constrasts, the runs and figures.

The words in the programme notes ‘Messiaen’s music does not evolve or develop… it simply is’ I thought particularly apt for the movement entitled ‘God’s Children’.  The richness and beautiful contrasts were memorable.

‘The Angels’ introduced a wonderful spread through the range of the instrument, and through the tonal colours.  Jennifer Chou’s immaculate technique was equal to all of it.  The audience didn’t worry about what she was doing, so far away.  We simply enjoyed the music with all its marvellous sonorities and dynamics.

The last two movements of the Suite for Lute brought a jolly mood, but it was a huge divergence from the variety of sonorities we had just been hearing. There were fewer unpleasant twangs here, and a more full-bodied tone emerged from the instrument.  The Gavottes and Gigue were presented with more shape and structure than we had had with the earlier movements.

The opening of Messiaen’s seventh movement, ‘Jesus accepts suffering’, was quite shocking in its discordant, dramatic, forte opening chords.  The solemnity of the deep bassoon reply and the tension of the evocation of suffering in the treatment were amply conveyed.

The music for ‘The Wise Men’ easily evoked images of the three wise men travelling across desert, seeing a star, and encountering something that inspired them with awe.

‘God among us’, the climax to the work, was full of exciting episodes and passages.
Technically very demanding, its musical language represented the Incarnation, Communion with Christ and Mary’s ‘Magnificat’.  The luminous, grand final chord, long-held, was a climax of contentment and joy, not of flashy virtuosity.

A towering work, La Nativité du Seigneur was played with mesmeric skill and panache.  This was a mammoth accomplishment, creating a rhapsodic experience, unlike that to be had from any other composer’s music.

 

Italian Embassy sponsors fine recital by violin and piano duo

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Tartiniana
Works for violin and piano by Corelli, Dallapiccola, Paganini, Pärt and Rossini
Duo Gazzana: Natascia Gazzana (violin) and Raffaella Gazzana (piano)

Adam Concert Room, New Zealand School of Music

Wednesday, 20 November 2013, 7:30 pm

A free concert of this standard is a rare event, so it was disappointing that there was not a larger audience to hear the duo perform – or to partake of the excellent pre-concert refreshments provided by the Italian Embassy, who sponsored the hour-long concert.

That said, we do have a plethora of concerts at this time of year, and we do have very fine violinists locally, including Martin Riseley, who introduced the performers and their programme.

Apart from Pärt (no pun intended) the composers were, appropriately, all Italian masters.  We heard some of the foremost names in Italian music history, plus Dallapiccola, whose dates were 1904-1975.   His composition Tartiniana seconda of 1956, listed in Wikipedia as being for violin and orchestra but in Grove for violin, pianoforte or orchestra, gave the title of the concert.

Corelli opened the programme, with his well-known Sonata Op.5 no.12 – ‘La Follia’; a set of variations on what was a well-known tune at the time, and which has been subsequently set by many composers.  The playing of pianist Rafaella was very fine in tone and with clean execution; these were features of her violinist sister’s playing in the main, though sometimes I found the tone a little harsh in the upper register in this piece.  This may have been partly due to reflection off the varnished floor.  The increasingly brilliant and complex variations were expertly handled.  It was a very accomplished performance.

The Dallapiccola work began with the mute on the violin, and much double-stopping (as indeed there was in the Corelli).  The pastoral first movement was followed by a sparkling second movement (Bourée) with notes all over the place in both parts, the violin sans mute.  The third movement featured bird sounds, and was delightfully and skilfully played.  The final movement was a complete contrast, with long brushstrokes on chords, at first for the violin unaccompanied.  After this episode, the mute was added for a gentle, meditative section, followed by the piano alone.  The unumuted violin returned for a slow passage, followed by more slashing chords.  It was a commanding performance of difficult music.

The first Paganini piece, Cantabile e valzer, was the only one played from memory by the violinist.  The smooth and romantic tone of this piece was engaging, and quite different from the style of playing employed for the baroque Corelli.  The variety of timbres, techniques and dynamics made for a charming and appealing performance.  Here, as elsewhere, the occasional violin note was not quite on pitch.

Fratres by Arvo Pärt is much played in many settings and arrangements – too much, to my mind.  However, I have to admit that this was a masterly performance.  The vigorous introduction had the violinist playing all over the strings before the calm passages commenced, with the violin part initially on harmonics.  The violin then embarked on a series of variations, while the piano continued with the theme.  Just when the music became soporific, it broke into loud chords from both instruments.  Harmonics followed deliciously, and the piece ended with light tapping of the strings with the bow.  The piece’s variety was eminently well demonstrated.

Rossini’s Fantasia per violino e pianoforte (originally written for clarinet and piano) became dance-like after a short introduction, Natascia Gazzana almost dancing along with the music.  Then there was a brilliant piano-only section, followed by more variation for both instruments.  A sombre section ensued, then more solo piano led to  flourishing and bright concluding passages that I found somewhat too elongated.

Paganini again: his Sonata in La Maggiore.  A loud, declamatory opening was succeeded by a very melodic section. like a Mendelssohn song.  Variations upon this tune included many techniques: left-hand pizzicato at speed, for example, then very fast finger-work, with the piano simply playing a few chords, then the bow frantically rushing over all the strings, followed by another section of left-hand pizzicato and bowing, to end this astonishing display, and the concert.

The duo featured almost impeccable playing and musicianship, and the players’ absolute rapport, mutual sympathy and timing were impressive.  It was good to hear such first-class performers.

 

Unusual, enterprising concert centring on Britten and Helen Webby’s harp

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

‘Alleluia: a newë work!’  The Ceremony of Birth and Death

Baroque Voices (women only) directed by Pepe Becker; Helen Webby (harp)

Sacred Heart Cathedral

Saturday 16 November 2013, 8pm

Sixth in a series of concerts celebrating universal themes, the concert featured Britten’s A Ceremony of Carols, celebrating the composer’s centenary year.  It was split into two, to open and close the performance. Between these two parts were no fewer than seven specially commissioned works for voices and harp – how unusual and enterprising!  I don’t suppose I have ever before been to a concert comprising entirely music accompanied by harp.

The  chant ‘Hodie Christus natus est’ was intoned unaccompanied by the choir of six women slowly moving from the back of the church to the front; the reverse process was undertaken for the repeat of the ‘Hodie’ at the end of the concert.  Then Helen Webby began the delicious music of ‘Wolcum Yole’, in which Britten, in his late twenties, revealed his extraordinary talent at word setting.  In a completely different mood was ‘There is no rose’; such a beautiful setting, that ended with a lovely decrescendo to pianissimo.  The interesting harp parts could in no way be considered mere accompaniment.  Here, as throughout the concert, Helen Webby exhibited her astonishing skill and talent as a harpist.

A notable feature of the performances was that all the words were in Middle English spellings, in which the singers were so well schooled, that the vowels were absolutely unanimous.  This was particularly notable in the song ‘Balulalow’, where most of the words differed from their modern equivalents in spelling, pronunciation, or both.  The words of all the songs were printed in the programme, adding to the audience’s ability to enjoy what was being performed.

The final song in this part of Britten’s work, ‘As dew in Aprille’, is well-known in several versions, but Britten’s was very unlike these.  The singers made errors towards the end, so stopped and started again, rendering the piece faultlessly this time.  The hugely varied harp part was absolutely pleasing and delightful.

The first of the commissioned works, Songs of Thomas Moore, consisted of settings of poems by that poet and songwriter (1779-1852), by Carol Shortis.   The first, ‘Ode LXIII’ was a short but effective composition, especially in the voice parts (one voice to a part).  Next came, appropriately, ‘The Origin of the Harp’, that epitomised the harp as a Siren, and told her sad tale of lost love.  This was a more complex composition.  The choir’s parts were fairly regular in rhythm and metre; the words were set expertly.  The harp’s part was charming.

‘Child’s Song from a Masque’ was the third and last song, and was also very appealing.  The words, about the child’s garden, and her (?) fawn were universally clear.  Their more modern form made them easier to pick up – and it is easier for a small ensemble to convey words clearly than it is for a choir.  The rhythms of the poems were followed in the music – which is not always the case in contemporary settings.  Yet again, the setting for harp was very fine.

Now we came to the first of the poems especially written for the commissioned composition.

The poem, entitled Coverings was by Elena Poletti and the music by Anthony Ritchie.  Google informs me that Elena Poletti is a lecturer at the University of Otago, and thus a colleague of Anthony Ritchie’s.  It is a pity that the ample printed notes about the composers were not accompanied by notes about the poets, although some notes about the individual works contained information about them.

Therefore as well as commissioning composers, Baroque Voices has given an opportunity and encouragement to the writing of new poetry.

The idea of renewal was conveyed through words about a penguin moulting and gaining a new coat, and about trees waiting to gain new leaves. The singers’ parts were not as melodically interesting as some of the items in the concert, but there was a dramatic harp part.  The third verse, beginning ‘Trees stand stark against the storm,’ was more exciting, and skilfully written.

Uncertainty/Eternity (Demeter, Ursula, Buddha) brought together poems by Rilke and Ursula Bethell, and French words concerning Demeter, a French science project investigating ionospheric disturbances from seismic and volcanic activity.  These were coupled with the search by the goddess Demeter for her daughter Persephone.  The music for these pieces was by Glenda Keam, an Auckland composer moving to head the Department of Music at the University of Canterbury.

Hers was a much less traditional musical language than we had heard so far.  I found the setting of ‘Pause’ by Ursula Bethell very lovely.  The contrast between the high and the low voices was most effective, and gave a mysterious quality to the piece.  In these items the harp part was not so prominent.

Gareth Farr’s contribution was to set a poem by New Zealand/Venezuelan poet Desirée Gezentsvey, written in English but in the published version given a Spanish translation, which Farr chose to set because of the language’s more musical character.   La Próxima Vez (Next Time Around) used brief but expressive words.  There was some harsh tone from the singers in this one – they had already done a lot of singing, and the second half of the concert was still to come. However, there were some delightful and telling musical effects.  Here, too, there was often wide separation of the high and low voices.

Pepe Becker’s composition began the second half, after a minute of silence in memory of Felicity Smith, who had sung with Baroque Voices, and died in London recently, aged 33.  This work used words from an English translation of the Sanskrit  Bhagavad Gita, most of the words sung being from a transliteration into Hindi.  The work was entitled na jayate mriyate.  There were sparse notes on the harp; Helen Webby was required also to knock on the wood of the instrument.   The setting was meditative, as if to induce a trance-like state.  Intervals of a second were featured – these were perfectly pitched.  In one section, the singers clapping small stones together, which made an attractive sound supporting the rhythms, and adding to the considerable variety of the piece.

Helen Bowater’s contribution, in the east, to the right was in a much more esoteric style, though oddly, the beginning was rather similar to Pepe Becker’s work, despite the very different theme.  It was sub-titled ‘humpty dumpty – a modern ecstasy’, the poem being written for the occasion by Andrew Caldwell.  It was an amusing commentary on Humpty’s famous fall, full of funny rhymes and pseudo-philosophical musings on the effect of his fall.  The last two lines give an idea of the mood: ‘with a map or an app you can see him by night,/ he’s that bright twinkling star in the east, to the right…’  Despite a fine choral and harp rendering of the fall, I did not feel that the musical setting reflected the humour of the piece.

The harp part had many intriguing musical figures; the use of small megaphones by some of the singers in parts may have been related to Humpty’s fall, and was certainly intriguing, and the music sounded like twinkling stars for those final two lines, but otherwise, I (and others I spoke to) thought the music too clever for the subject, and the opportunity for reflecting the joyous humour of the delightful poem was lost, although the harp part reflected it to some extent.  The structure of the work was not apparent (similarly in one or two of the other pieces performed).

Persephone by Mark Smythe (Pepe Becker’s brother, based now in the US) used a Latin translation of English words.  As the programme note stated, this work was ‘more dissonant and nebulous’ than Baroque Voices’ usual offerings.  Here, the structure was clear, but the repeated patterns for harp did not make the most of that instrument.  But splendid singing and brilliant playing, some beautiful intervals, harmonies and progressions made it an enjoyable listening experience.

We returned to the last items of A Ceremony of Carols: ‘This Little Babe’, ‘Interlude’ (harp solo), ‘In freezing winter night’ ‘Spring carol’, ‘Deo Gracias’ and ‘Recession’.
The first of these was so fast that most of the words were hard to pick up.  The harp solo was gentle, simple, evocative and subtle, employing a range of dynamics; the result: beautiful.

Britten’s astonishing writing for the harp – dramatic, adventurous and apt, was again prominent in the ‘Spring carol’, a duet for two sopranos.  ‘Deo Gracias’ is declamatory and very satisfying as an ending for the work (followed by the repeat of the ‘Hodie’).

The performance was warmly received by the audience, and congratulations are due to Baroque Voices for conceiving the programme and commissioning the New Zealand works, and ending with such expertise and beauty in the Recession.

Pepe Becker expressed her hope that many of the commissioned works would be taken up by choirs and ensembles.  Not all could be performed by any but the highly skilled, but some could.

It was unfortunate, in my view, that an encore of a light ‘radio theatre’ piece by Mark Smythe was given, spoiling the mood and atmosphere created by the last part of the Britten work.  It was bland, with a repetitive chant from some singers while others sang in both unison and harmony, accompanied by a sustained, somewhat repetitive harp part.

 

Paul Rosoman gives St Andrew’s two organs a work-out

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Pachelbel: Chaconne in F minor
Johann Fischer: Chaconne in F major, de la Suite Euterpe
Mendelssohn: Andante with Variations in D
Joseph Bonnet: Romance sans Paroles
Parry: Elegy for 7th April 1913
J.S. Bach: Prelude and Fugue in B minor

Paul Rosoman, organ

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday, 13 November 2013, 12.15pm

One of the pleasures of hearing an organ recital at St. Andrew’s is the fact that here are two organs; on this occasion both were played – firstly the small baroque organ downstairs, then the main organ, in the upstairs gallery.

Informed by excellent programme notes, the audience heard a variety of works from late seventeenth century to early twentieth century.  One of the most delightful was the first, the Chaconne by Pachelbel.  It was so good to hear the baroque organ used
(it seems to be but sparsely used these days), and the changes in registrations that Rosoman employed from one variation to another.  Particularly lovely was the sound of the flutes.

Fischer’s composition was probably more diverse and imaginative than the Pachelbel, and very rhythmic.  However, it was without that spark of genius that Pachelbel had.

The remaining pieces were played on the main organ.  Mendelssohn’s organ music is very much of the nineteenth century.  As the programme note said, the composer was ‘a romantic whose music was rooted in classicism’.  Repeated notes could have
done with just a little more separation, otherwise this was a good performance of what I found to be a rather syrupy, hymn-like piece.  Having been taught by the late Maxwell Fernie almost entirely on baroque organ music, I do not find Mendelssohn’s (or
Liszt’s) organ music to my taste.

Joseph Bonnet was the most recent of the composers we heard (1884-1944).  Despite the title, I did not find the piece particularly Romantic, but very charming, simple, and tuneful.  It received plenty of variety of registration, to make for a pleasing recital work.

Parry’s Elegy written for the funeral of his brother-in-law, the Earl of Pembroke, did not have the spirit of his choral music, but was pleasant, and certainly elegiac, but not especially distinguished.

The Bach Prelude and Fugue is not among the great composer’s well-known organ works, nor did I find it one of his more
appealing or interesting, though one could appreciate the counterpoint, and the intricacy of the finger and foot work required from the performer.  There was a bright mixture of stops chosen for the Prelude, but little change for the Fugue – maybe another reed was added.  Nevertheless, it received a fine performance, and gave a rousing end to a thoughtfully chosen and well-played recital.

Both organs sounded in fine form – and that is in large part a tribute to the organist.

 

Houstoun’s stupendous feat in first of the final trilogy of Beethoven sonata recitals

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Chamber Music New Zealand  Beethoven reCYCLE 2013: Programme Five

Sonata no.2 in A, Op.2 no.2
Sonata no.8 in C minor, Op.13 ‘Pathétique’
Sonata no.18 in E flat, Op.31 no.3 “La Chasse’
Sonata no.30 in E, Op.109

Michael Houstoun (piano)

Michael Fowler Centre

Friday 8 November 2013, 7.30pm

How does one express in words the riches of hearing Beethoven’s incomparable piano sonatas superbly played?

The only real drawback to the performance was the fact of it having to be held in the Michael Fowler Centre due to the earthquake strengthening of the Town Hall, in which building is also located the Ilott
Theatre, where the first (April) concerts in this series were held.

Sensibly, much of the auditorium was roped off, so that the audience was concentrated in the central and left side sections of the downstairs seating.  In his introductory remarks, Euan Murdoch (Chief Executive, Chamber Music New Zealand) assured us that the audience of approximately 500 would fill the Wigmore Hall in London, venue for so many recitals and chamber music concerts.

However, there was some effect of such a cavernous space on the sound the audience received, despite a lower platform below the main stage being used, as it was for the Goldner Quartet in September, that  brought pianist and audience somewhat closer together.

Though the early sonata that opened the concert (1794-95) has the style and format of a classical sonata, the content is such that it could not have been written by Haydn (its dedicatee) or Mozart.  As
Charlotte Wilson said in her introductory talk, Beethoven’s distinctive contrasts between soft and loud, staccato and legato, were in full evidence, with moments of great delicacy contrasting with bravura passages.

The chorale-like opening of the second movement is satisfying and solemn, and develops through a delightful transition before the firm steps of the opening return.  Further variation in grimmer mode
follows, then a gentler, almost dance-like version.

The third movement is a joy, and Houstoun’s lightness of touch made the most of every phrase, while in the extended rondo final movement Houstoun’s facility allowed Beethoven’s beauties to reveal themselves.

The well-known Pathétique sonata would have been demanding and even puzzling at its first hearing, though written only four years after the sonata we heard first.  Here we had no mechanical performance; there were rubati and slight variations of tempi in the first movement, which Beethoven would surely have approved.  After the opening (grave), the allegro molto was indeed fast, with just an occasional loss of clarity.  The vast majority of its magical characteristics were all there.

As is usual with Michael Houstoun’s playing, one was unaware of the sustaining pedal, so judiciously is it used.  The gorgeous slow movement displayed pianism at its finest.  Houstoun never succumbed to a romantic rendition, yet instilled the music with plenty of feeling.

The final movement, another rondo, was again pretty fast just a shade too much so for me.  I found that at this tempo the odd note clattered rather than sounded fully in the way that most of its fellows did.  But Beethoven’s effects were there for all to hear.

‘La Chasse’ (1802) is one of my favourite sonatas, especially the minuet, for which years ago in a youthful romantic phase I wrote words.  As with the first sonata, this being after the interval, it took a
little time to become accustomed to the sound in the Michael Fowler Centre acoustic, but again the strangeness soon wore off.

This was a cheerful chase.  Surely the prey would not want to be caught, so that it could continue to listen to this wonderful music!   The second movement’s running opening has the music always going somewhere, and the little strophes that interrupt don’t stop the genial progress for long.

The minuet and trio were as enchanting as ever  more so than in the hands of some pianists.  I don’t know when I last heard this sonata in a live concert; I found it a joyful and fulfilling experience. The skill in the modulations of the last movement were breathtaking.

Finally to late Beethoven  1820, to be precise. The opening probably suffered the most from the acoustic, but again, one’s ears adapted, and the ripple of calm yet lyrical notes soon found the right receptors.  Soon the driving, burning talent of Beethoven breaks through the calm, only to alternate with it in episodes.

The prestissimo second movement is short and also episodic.  Then comes the sublime slow opening of the final movement.  Its nostalgic and contemplative quality summons up thoughts of what might have been in Beethoven’s mind at this stage of his life.  This is one of the many treasures that the composer has given us; such expressive beauty!

The variations are a considerable tour de force, but several are of a slower pace, rather than increasing the
prestidigitation.  The return of the theme at the end made for an exquisite close to an evening of music that transported one; magical and peaceful.

To have all 32 sonatas under the fingers and in the brain, as Houstoun has, is a stupendous feat, and  much appreciated by the attentive audience.  The experience of hearing these sonatas in such
capable hands was elevating and joyous.

 

NZSM Orchestra serves composers well, with a star cello soloist

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Te Kōki New Zealand School of Music : Contrasts

Jason Post: Noumena (world première)
Elgar: Cello Concerto in E minor, Op.85 (adagio – moderato; lento – allegro molto; adagio; allegro ma non troppo)
Shostakovich: Symphony no.9 in E flat, Op.70 (allegro, moderato, scherzo: presto, largo, allegretto)

NZSM Orchestra conducted by Kenneth Young, with Heather Lewis (cello)

Sacred Heart Cathedral

Tuesday, 8 October 2013, 7.30pm

A demanding programme proved to be well within the capabilities of the NZSM orchestra, which included only a few ‘guest players’ (though all four horn players were guests).

The work by graduate student (studying for Master’s) Jason Post was titled ‘Noumena’, meaning ‘an object beyond our phenomenal experience of it’ according to the programme note by the composer.  It opened with a quiet flute that gradually became louder, and was joined by harp, bassoon and percussion.  Then the other strings arrived, with some playing ponticello (very close to the bridge), while the double basses played very low.  They were quickly followed by overblown flutes, all the while the music becoming louder Some brass joined in, while the percussionist played glockenspiel and then xylophone, the glockenspiel returning again later.  The various orchestral sounds, many of them unusual, made for music that was effective in its own way, but it would be difficult to see the piece receiving multiple performances.

Despite the technical and ideological aspects of the work, it reminded me most of a howling southerly storm, such as we experienced on 20 June this year, and then again, to a lesser extent, as I typed up this review the morning after the concert.  There was a build-up of sound, intensity and texture, then an unleashing, with many wind-like ululations.  The tempo was pretty regular, and the playing intense and on-the-ball.

Elgar was well served by the performance of his cello concerto.  This soulful, even romantic work is different from most of his other compositions.  Heather Lewis, in a gorgeous green dress, made a very strong and incisive opening, playing without the score, and immediately gave us a wonderful range of tone and dynamics.  Right from the outset, the orchestral cellos were very fine, too.

While the sound in Sacred Heart Cathedral is very good, there were times in all three works when the fortissimos were somewhat overwhelming, due to the acoustics, and the size of the building being much smaller than a concert hall.

Nevertheless, both orchestra and soloist made the most of the sublime melodies with their poignant resonances.  I could not see the soloist properly – but there was no doubt about the sumptuous, lyrical and passionate sounds she produced.  The orchestra did its part splendidly, but the focus was definitely on the soloist.  She had the work thoroughly at her fingertips, with all its technical, interpretative and  expressive demands, but made it her own.  The emphasis for both soloist and orchestra was on interpretation.

The lento opening of the second movement had both soloist and orchestra performing wonderful singing lines, filled with romantic longing.  These long lines and their phrasing were beautifully managed by Heather Lewis, and there were delicious pianissimos.  The allegro molto section provided a greater variety of temperaments.

The adagio continued in a similar mood to the lento, except perhaps for a greater degree of sadness, with the soloist virtually continuously involved, while the final movement also had a mixture of emotions, right up to its almost abrupt ending.

Shostakovich’s ninth symphony is possible his shortest and his most jolly – and the first for which I owned a recording.  It starts with plenty of gusto, and a delightful piccolo playing above syncopated pizzicato on the strings, with many interjections from brass and percussion, giving almost a fairground atmosphere.  The lively, quirky theme is thrown around the instruments as well as being played by the
full band.

The second movement starts in complete contrast; it is quiet, slower, and features a lovely clarinet solo, with woodwind chorus to back it up.  The strings enter, with a slow build-up of a surging theme that has a mocking character.  It is overcome for a time by gorgeous flute solos.  This movement was beautifully played.

The third movement went back to a quirky, lively mood.  It was exciting, with a plethora of notes, timbres and rhythmic figures.  Early on, the trumpet and trombones featured in fine form.  They returned later in stentorian style, to signal the largo, which featured a superb extended bassoon solo.  The player had great tone and phrasing; it was a delightful but somewhat sombre interlude between scherzo and finale.

The allegretto starts quietly, but the excitement builds to a climax, relieved by much drumming and rhythmic playing from the wind instruments.  Changes of key added piquancy to the repetition of the theme.  When the full orchestra play it forte there is a definite air of mockery about the rendition.  Many sectional variations ensue, before a quite sudden ending.

This demanding programme deserved a bigger audience.  However, the church was close to being packed.  Perhaps some potential audience members do not realise that the New Zealand School of Music is a university-level institution, and that many of the players are post-graduate music students.  The level of competence is extremely high.

The entire programme received spirited, committed and accomplished performances.
Kenneth Young brought out the best from the players.  His programme notes for the Elgar were elegant: I enjoyed his saying about the first movement “The violas then introduce an elegiac theme, long and flowing, which the cello cannot resist.”  I would need to hear Jason Posts’ piece several times to be able to relate the programme notes to the music, while those for the Shostakovich by Mark Wigglesworth (written in 2007) were very informative about the composer and the history of the work’s performance, but said little about the work itself.

 

 

NZSM voice students in diverse show-case at St Andrews

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Arias from opera; songs

New Zealand School of Music: Vocal students of Richard Greager, Jenny Wollerman, Margaret Medlyn, with Mark Dorrell (piano)

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

2 October 2013, 12.15pm

A varied programme was provided, both in terms of the styles of voices, and of the composers whose music was sung.

The programme opened with a couple of duets (and one solo in between).  Tess Robinson and William McElwee sang a Handel duet from L’Allegro,  Il Penseroso ed Il Moderato, the first part of which I missed due to problems at the parking building.  The latter part seemed to suffer from some intonation wobbles, and not a lot of subtlety in dynamics, though otherwise it was a sound performance.

Mozart’s aria from Don Giovanni, ‘Batti, batti o bel Masetto’ was given a lively, apt and accurate interpretation by Olivia Sheat.  With the help of incomparable accompanist Mark Dorrell, the performance flowed beautifully.

Haydn was the composer of the next duet: ‘Graceful Consort’ from The Creation.  Hannah Jones’s attractive, agile and accurate soprano voice coped well, but Rory Sweeney’s voice was not sufficiently supported, the words were not very clear, and the tone was sometimes hard.

Donizetti was the composer of Hannah Jones’s solo: ‘Il barcaiolo’ from Nuits d’été à Pausilippe.  This song about the sea was sung with lovely unforced tone.

Bellini’s opera I Puritani is opened by an aria for Riccardo, the leader of the Puritan army: ‘Ah, per sempre’.  This was sung by Rory Sweeney, who this time had better tonal quality and clearer words.  The aria was well managed with a good range of dynamics – but surely a little facial expression is permitted,
and a little more sadness, as Riccardo hears his beloved being wed to another?

The next tenor was William McElwee, performing ‘Lunga da lei… De’ miei bollenti spiriti’ from Verdi’s La Traviata.  He has a bigger voice than does Sweeney, and it is more operatic in timbre.  He included plenty of facial expression and gesture in his performance.  He has a fine sense of the dramatic, and is a
very promising performer.

After such a number of operatic excerpts, it was refreshing to hear lieder: Wolf’s ‘Heiss mich nicht reden’, one of Goethe’s Mignon songs.  Olivia Sheat gave a beautifully controlled rendition with excellent words and dynamics, and employing subtle shades of tone, to make a moving presentation.

Mark Dorrell got a rest now; Esther Leefe (soprano) and Michelle Velvin (harp) performed A Birthday Hansel; a song cycle for high voice and harp set by Benjamin Britten to words by Robert Burns, some of which were amusing, the poems being in mixed English and Scottish dialects.  Although premiered by Peter Pears, it worked well for soprano.  Esther Leefe’s voice was beautifully produced, and the four songs were delightful and unusual, the presentation, charming.  Both musicians gave first-class performances.  I couldn’t catch a lot of the words – the harp was between me and the singer.  It was skilled playing and singing, sustained throughout ‘Birthday Song’, Wee Willie’, ‘My Hoggie’ and ‘Leezie
Lindsay’.

Staying with twentieth-century song, was Tess Robinson singing ‘The Seal Man’ by Rebecca Clarke.  I’m not aware of having heard this singer before, but I was struck by her strong, expressive voice.  Words were exceptionally well projected and clear.  She painted the picture of the seal man searching for a lover on land superbly well, as did Mark Dorrell in the accompaniment.

The only New Zealand composition on the programme was Anthony Ritchie’s ‘He moemoea’ (‘A dream’, recently sung at the Adam Concert Room by Isabella Moore).  Hannah Jones sang it with lovely resonance, and her words came over pretty well.

Tess Robinson returned to sing two Japanese songs – something I don’t recall ever hearing before.  By Yoshinao Nakada, they were ‘Ubagufuma’ and ‘Karasu’ from Muttsu no kodomo no uta.  She used the score (as did the duettists, earlier) – probably as much for the unfamiliar language as for the music.  Her singing was very eloquent, and her voice conveyed feelings well.

We moved into lighter vein now, with Rory Sweeney singing ‘If I loved you’ from Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Carousel.  It was a fine rendition, but there was insufficient feeling in the performance.

The final item was from William McElwee, singing ‘La fleur que tu m’avais jetée’, probably one of the most familiar of all tenor arias, from Bizet’s opera Carmen.  The tempo was a little too fast and unvarying – it could have done with some rubato. McElwee’s high notes were very fine, and his French language excellent.

Some of the programme notes, which were brief but informative, suffered from poor proof-reading in regard to grammar, others had tell-tale signs of being derived from the internet.

All the performances (aside from the songs with harp) were enhanced by having Mark Dorrell as the sensitive and capable accompanist.