Author: Rosemary Collier

Wonderful recital of French Christmas music from organist Dianne Halliday

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Joyeux Noël: organ music for Christmas by French composers

Dianne Halliday

St. Peter’s Church, Willis Street

Friday, 21 December, 7pm

Dianne Halliday gave her audience a wonderful conspectus of French organ music for Christmas, mainly. but not exclusively, from the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.  It was a pity that the composers’ dates were not in the printed programme.  However, I was able to find all except one, in a variety of sources, but chiefly Wikipedia.

The opening piece was ‘Chant du Roi René’ from Les Livres de Noëls by Alexandre Guilmant, who lived from 1837 to 1911.  It was a lively, rhythmic piece based on traditional Noëls, featuring a full diapason choir, as a rousing opening to the recital.

In complete contrast were two Noëls by seventeenth century composer André Raison.  Here, soft reeds contrasted with flutes in the first piece, with a tremulant at the end, while the second featured a medieval-style melody.  Michel Corrette flourished from 1707 to 1795 – like all the other composers in the programme except one, he confirmed my observation that organists are a long-lived lot.  His Première Suite de Noëls consisted of four movements.  Among the four delightful pieces was ‘Une jeune pucelle’ (A young virgin), on flutes, and ‘Noël Provençale (tambourin)’, a polyphonic piece that introduced a stop that sounded like a Jew’s harp.

Clément Loret (Belgian-born, 1833-1909) followed; of his Six Noëls avec Variations Dianne Halliday played no.5, ‘Noël Arlesien’.  This was a delightfully inventive piece.  The title summed up what all the pieces on the programme were: variations on traditional Christmas songs and melodies.  Most had simple folk melodies which were then varied to great effect, both in the writing, and in the registrations used by Dianne Halliday.  Despite this and the range in dates of the composers, there was a certain sameness in the programme.  This one had many variations, and a great variety of registrations.  A simple melody was introduced sotto voce with the swell box closed, and then repeated with a 15th stop added at the top, then a louder rendition, then more flutes for the next, and yet more variations to follow, most without pedal parts.  Last of all was a variation played in what is probably the upper reach of human hearing – a 2-foot rank?

The next composer, Nicolas Lebègue, lived from 1631 to 1702.  Laissez paître vos bêtes (Leave grazing your animals) was based on the same melody as Bizet used for the Prelude in his first L’Arlesienne suite.  The variations included a second on quiet reeds (Vox Humana?), followed by a third on full diapason chorus.

The name Charpentier is a well-known one in French composition circles, though I could find no evidence that Jean-Jacques Beauvarlet-Charpentier was the relative of the two famous composers of that name.  His dates were 1734 to 1794.  The two of his Douze Noëls played: no.5, ‘Noël pour une Elévation’ and ‘Noël dans le Gout [manner] de la Symphonie Concertante’ were charming variations on two traditional Christmas songs.  The second melody was titled ‘Où s’en vont ces gais bergers?’; one could, perhaps, hear the shepherds’ clumsy movements in the abrasive reeds, and their pipes in the gentler flute tones.

Jean-François Dandrieu’s two pieces were enchanting; he flourished from 1682 to 1738.  Following his music, we had Jean Bouvard’s Noël Vosgien.  He was the only one of the featured composers for whom I could not find any information.  The piece employed some rather different tonalities, and like the other pieces in the programme, was most appealing.

‘Noël cette Journée’ from Douze Noëls by Louis-Claude D’Aquin (1694-1772) is a piece that I did know, having a recording of it on an LP made by my late revered organ teacher, Maxwell Fernie.  I have a memory of a hymn or carol in English on the Noël’s melody, but could not track it down in any of the relevant books I have.

André Fleury (1903-1995) was the composer of  Variations sur un Noël Bourguignon.  We heard one of the pieces: ‘Lo qu’en la saison qu’ai jaule’.  An interesting reed stop opened the music, then the melody was heard on the pedals with quiet accompaniment.  Louder variations followed in this extremely effective piece.

The penultimate piece was by the appropriately-named Ếmile Bourdon (1884-1974); a Noël by the 17th century Nicholas Saboly, ‘Lei
plus sage – Dòu vesinage’, [a Noël setting in the Langue d’Oc of the
south of France].  Finally, Quatre Noëls Op.26, by Charles Quef (1873-1931).  The first, ‘Noël Lorraine’ was the most contemporary-sounding piece in the programme.  It ended in a march.  ‘Noël Mâconnais’ utilised a modal melody that introduced chunky variations.  ‘Noël Breton’ was calm, with a positive mood, while ‘Noël Parisienne’ was a very bright and attractive piece, with a strong melody and a spirited finish.

What an amazing selection of Christmas organ music from France this was!  Dianne Halliday revealed a rich tapestry of music we seldom hear.  Nearly all had ‘Noël’ in the title.  I had never heard of the majority of the composers.  The playing was always beautifully articulated; registrations all had clarity and euphony; the organist exploiting the beauties of the organ to the full.  The recital was quite long, and a tour de force for the performer, to use an appropriately French phrase.

 

 

Penultimate lunchtime concert at St Andrew’s: delightful cello and piano programme

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Schumann: Fantasy pieces, Op. 73
Barbara Heller: Lalai, lullaby to awaken you
De Falla: Suite Populaire Espagnole
Janáček:  A Leaf Blown Away
Bartók: Romanian Folk Dances
Arnold Trowell: Caprice Op.20 no.6

Robert Ibell (cello), Catherine McKay (piano)

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday, 12 December 2012, 12.15pm

The pieces by Schumann that opened this programme are quite well-known.    A beautiful singing tone from the cello received sensitive accompaniment on the piano, with subtle variation of tone and touch.  The playing was of an appropriately romantic character on both instruments, full of expression and beautifully articulated, every note having a chance to speak.  The renditions followed the titles of the pieces, which in English are ‘Tender with expression’; ‘Lively, light’; ‘Quick and with fire’.

Originally written for clarinet and piano, they were arranged by the composer for cello and piano.  They received an exemplary performance.

At this point Robert Ibell spoke to the audience, briefly but very clearly introducing the varied programme, much of which consisted of arrangements, but some were of these arrangements were by their composers.

Next came a contemporary composition by a German composer.  The song on which it was based was a resistance song from Iran in the Shah’s era, and was written to commemorate women persecuted in that era, and then murdered by the subsequent hard-line Moslem regime.  Robert Ibell showed passion in rendering the simple opening melody, and then the strong, highly rhythmic chords and discords that followed, while the pianist plucked very low strings on the piano.

In the third part, the pianist both played and plucked the strings, without the cello, and finally both instruments played what was largely, but not exactly, a repeat of the first section.  The emotion of the piece was not, in the main, worn on the sleeve, but built up subtly through unusual figures and rhythms.

De Falla’s lively suite is well-known in his original sung version from which this one was arranged.  I must admit that I find such arrangements to be lesser creations; the music of songs is inspired by the words of poems, and not to have the latter takes away the relationship to the meaning and essential expression of the songs, not to mention the particular cadences and timbres of the Spanish language, in this case.  Nevertheless, this was very eloquent and articulate playing, and the performance displayed de Falla’s great gifts as a composer.

The opening song (giving them their English titles) was ‘The Moorish Cloth’; it was lively, with lots of pizzicato, but could not convey the irony of the original words.  It was followed by ‘Lullaby’, a beautifully gentle contrast to the previous song (no.5 in my recording of the songs), simple in its expression.  ‘Song’ (no.6 in the original sequence) was spirited and gentle by turns, and is perhaps my favourite.  Its lilting rhythm was almost soporific.

‘Jota’, an Aragon-inspired piece, featured delightful cross-rhythms and strumming contrasted with smooth passages; the story of a lover whose mother disapproves of the relationship.  It was quite gorgeous, and exploited the cello’s versatility between singing and percussive effects.

‘Asturian Song’  is a thoughtful, slow lament, originally placed before the ‘Jota’.  It’s quiet and pensive music was most effective.  Finally, the rumbustious ‘Polo’ had much hard work for the piano to do – in fact it was demanding for both musicians, and gave a vivacious ending to the suite.

Janáček, along wih his fellow countryman Dvořák, wrote for the now-despised harmonium: the ordinary family’s instrument that was smaller and probably cheaper than the piano and therefore popular in homes.  One could pretend to be playing a pipe organ, but for the wheezy tone!  Things have gone full circle; I recall hearing a Dvořák composition recently where the harmonium part was played on chamber pipe organ!  This composition, ‘A Leaf Blown Away’,  translated well to the cello and piano.  It was a soulful and telling piece.

Bartók’s Romanian Folk Dances are well-known and popular, both in the original piano setting and in the composer’s orchestrations.  The cello and piano arrangement was by Luigi de Silva.  After the opening ‘Stick Dance’ came ‘Sash Dance’ and ‘In One Spot’; two difficult and high-pitched pieces, requiring the cellist to alternate between playing the strings normally, and playing harmonics.  The effect was delightful, as indeed was the whole performance.  After ‘Horn Dance’ and ‘Romanian Polka’ came ‘Fast Dance’, robust with pizzicato and bowing alternating, and a dynamic piano part.

The final piece was by Arnold Trowell, who gives the lie to the oft-repeated statement that Douglas Lilburn was our first serious composer – though some will allow Alfred Hill a look-in, even though he spent the greater part of his productive life in Australia.  This was no fledgling piece, being part of Trowell’s Opus 20.  It must be admitted that the composer spent most of his life in England from the age of 16, and that he is perhaps better known as a friend of Katherine Mansfield, his brother Garnet being perhaps more than a friend.

Trowell was a professor of cello at two London music colleges, and wrote a lot of music for cello and piano.  This was a very competent piece, featuring light and shade, somewhat Elgarian, but lively and tuneful, and very fast.

After the concert, an elderly friend said to me “How can he make the cello sound like a whole orchestra?”   Answer: with the vivid, technically assured playing of both Robert Ibell and his accompanist Catherine McKay, he can.  It is worth noting that Robert Ibell is probably the only NZSO member who regularly plays in these lunchtime concerts, for which there are no artists’ fees.  As the concert organiser, Marjan van Waardenberg said in a recent email “All the artists… participate feelessly in this series.”

 

Bryant-Greene and Atkins give enjoyable recital of New Zealand piano music

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Anthony Ritchie: Olveston Suite
Jenny McLeod: Tone Clock Pieces XIX. Moon, Night Birds, Dark Pools
Douglas Lilburn: Sonatina no.1
John Ritchie: Three Caricatures

Buz Bryant-Greene (piano) and Andrew Atkins (piano)

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

28 November 2012, 12.15pm

It was refreshing to have a programme entirely of New Zealand compositions.  It made for a most enjoyable concert, in fact more so than numbers of piano recitals I have attended.

One infrequently hears music by father and son of the same family (perhaps occasionally the Mozarts, Leopold and Wolfgang), so it was a distinct pleasure to hear music by both John and Anthony Ritchie.  The geniality of the writing of both points to a happy family life.

The son’s suite was charming, and evocative for anyone who has visited the beautifully preserved Theomin home in Dunedin.  I have – and even played the piano there, choosing Sibelius, as a contemporary of the Theomins.
I had never heard this music before, and was thoroughly enchanted.

The first movement ‘Great Hall’, appropriately began with grand chords and lofty notes.  It was followed by ‘Kitchen and Scullery’.  Here, the music was suitably busy, but cheerful, not stressed – this was a large room, so people would not be falling over each other.  In ‘Dining Room’, it was easy to hear the happy, conversational sequences, with some voices declamatory (male?) and some higher and softer (female?).   ‘Writing Room, Edwardian Room’ contained more contemplative, thoughtful tones, befitting for family members sitting down to write letters.

The final movement, ‘Billiard Room, Persian Room’ (which room I recall distinctly) featured music that was lively, with uneven rhythms (perhaps revealing unequal skill or luck), with running – rolling? – passages.  Did the player pot the ball at the end?

‘Great Hall’ was then played again by Buz Bryant-Greene, revealing some insecurities – not of the pianist, but perhaps of the guests, entering the hall.  It was a very satisfying performance, the skill of the player allowing the audience to concentrate on the music and what it was depicting, rather than the playing.

Following this, the pianist spoke to the audience about the programme.

Jenny McLeod has now written many Tone Clock Pieces, the first appearing in 1988.  These are based on the harmonic theory originated by Dutch composer Peter Schat (b. 1935).  The darkly mysterious piece was played with sympathy, subtlety and finesse.  The atmosphere of night was gentle, but full of surprises.

Douglas Lilburn’s Sonatina (of similar length to many sonatas) was introduced and played by Andrew Atkins, whose speaking had much greater clarity than was shown by his colleague, despite his use of the microphone.  He used the score, as was the case with all these pieces – but the programme had been a late substitution for what had been originally planned.

The Sonatina was written in 1946, and received an excellent reading at the hands of Atkins, who proved to have a lovely touch in the soft passages.  The vivace first movement began pianissimo, with Lilburn’s typical dotted rhythm on repeated notes in evidence.  The second movement was marked poco adagio, espressivo, but much of the movement was robust and strong, with great dynamic variety; the espressivo instruction was followed to the full.  The allegro was a difficult final movement, but was played with assurance and skill.  Altogether, it was a fine performance.

Buz Bryant-Greene returned to play John Ritchie’s humorous music.  The opening Toccatina was fun; much of it sounded like the birds and the bees, but it was quite demanding.  The Sarabande was a thoughtful slow dance that contained lovely piano writing, and some fast passages.  The Jig finale featured a no-nonsense opening, then bouncy elves rolled out (this being “Hobbit Day”) to jig around our ears (pointedly?).  It all made up to another fine performance.

 

 

Polish organist with German baroque and French romantic at St Peter’s

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Organ works by Buxtehude, J.S. Bach and Guilmant

Gedymin Grubba

St. Peter’s Anglican Church, Willis Street

Sunday, 4 November 2012, 3pm

When Polish organist Gedymin Grubba was here almost exactly two years ago, he played the relatively small baroque-style organ at St. Paul’s Lutheran Church.   How very different to play on the much larger, recently-restored William Hill organ at St. Peter’s!  Despite that, most of this programme was from the baroque era.

This time, more of the music was familiar to me, but I find some of the remarks I made in my review of that recital still apply.

The opening work was one of my favourites: J.S. Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in E flat major, BWV 552.  It has a thrilling opening, and episodes of different character in both movements.  The Fugue is known in English as the ‘St. Anne’ because the  first theme resembles the St. Anne hymn tune used for ‘O God, our help in ages past’, a hymn that would have been unknown to Bach.  Walter Emery, in the Preface to my Novello edition of the music states ‘…the subject was a commonplace…’ and quotes the titles of contemporary fugues with similar themes.  ‘I record these resemblances as curiosities…’  Grubba chose a bold registration for this, but I found it had rather a buzzy overlay.

Rather than agreeing with the remark in my previous review, that the organist played “with an appropriately detached technique for this period of music”, I found this time the amount of lift, or detachment between notes and chords, too much – particularly in the fugue.  It broke up the line of the theme; the “singers” had to breathe far too often.  Maintaining a more legato line for the theme would have made the detached quavers in the final section of the fugue even more dramatic.

I would have liked a different registration for the fugue, rather than the same stops as were used for the prelude; this would have given more clarity to the parts.  It was also very slow for a chorale style of theme and its development – it became rather ponderous.

The Buxtehude chorale prelude Nun bitten wir den Heiligen Geist used flutes to accompany the melody on a reed stop (I think!), and this was very effective, but again, I found there were too many lifts in the melody line, to the extent that it became irritating. The line of the chorale melody was not always maintained, and the rhythm was jerky at times.  There needs to be phrasing, as in a sung or danced piece of music.  It is appropriate to separate repeated notes, but the first of the notes needs a little more time value than was often given here, otherwise the music sounds breathless, and the style interferes with the musical line.

Buxtehude’s Passacaglia in D minor found the pedal rather loud.  Yes, that is where the Passacaglia theme is to be found, as a ground bass, but I think we would still have heard it if played a little more lightly.  Again, to me the lifts were too long.  There is a style of playing baroque organ music where the notes are played more-or-less staccato, but these lifts were longer than that, and came every few notes through much (not all) of the music.

The Bach Prelude in B minor was not one I knew.   The 8ft., 4ft., 2ft. registration was most attractive, and the pedal part had a good sound.  In this piece there was more continuity – more legato playing.

The third in a group of three chorale preludes by Bach on Allein Gott in der Höh’ sei Ehr’ received a delicious registration, the 2ft. stop being used for the upper part, and a very contrasting registration for the left hand.  I enjoyed this piece very much; there was a lovely contrast between the three parts, yet the balance was maintained.

The last of the baroque items was Bach’s wonderful Fantasia in G minor, another of my favourites.  The dancing semi-quavers of the first section were very fast, so that they were not always distinct from each other, while the middle section, marked Grave was too fast and bouncy, losing its grave grandeur.  Again, too many separated notes spoiled the musical line.  The first chord in each couplet was not given enough value – and the buzzy sound returned with the registration used.  The final section, with its demi-semi-quaver triplets was beautifully played, with a lovely, registration.

The final work was the Scherzo from Guilmant’s Organ Symphony no.5, also played in a very detached manner, though there was phrasing, too.  The work contains some attractive melodies, but the scherzo rhythm was rather lost at times because of the nature of the playing.

As an encore, Grubba played from memory a showy march of his own composition, on full organ with reeds.

The printed programme listed the composers (with dates) and the titles and other details of the works, but there were no programme notes; additional proofreading would have been advantageous for both the titles of works and the notes about the performer.

 

 

Futuna Chapel and Alliance Française inspire an attractive French women’s choir

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

‘Beau Soir’: a programme of French and New Zealand music and poems

L’Alliance Française Women’s Choir: Voix de femmes, Janey MacKenzie (piano and voice), Madeleine Dean (poetry reading), Brigid O’Meeghan (cello), Julie Coulson (piano and choir), Marie Brown (conductor)

Futuna Chapel, Karori

Friday 2 November 2012, 6.30pm

O Futuna!  But this concert was not Orff in any sense of the word.  Despite comparatively little publicity that I was aware of, the chapel, its coloured glass radiating beautifully onto the concrete walls as the sun shone intermittently, was full.  The choir of 14 singers (unnamed), and others, gratified the audience with a varied range of music.

A variety of French music was to be expected; the introduction of a couple of New Zealand compositions was an added bonus.

The concert, the choir’s second only since its formation, began with Fauré; first a hymn, Maria, Mater gratiae, which was followed by a short mass: Messe des pêcheurs de Villerville.  This was written, so Marie Brown told us in one of her clear and excellent introductions, with André Messager, Fauré’s friend and former pupil, with whom he collaborated on other works.  They wrote it to raise money for a charitable purpose, while on holiday in 1881.  It appears that there were several versions of this mass, which is titled Messe basse in Grove.  The first version calls for a harmonium, while the last is set for organ accompaniment, without the movements by Messager.  Perhaps the electronic organ in the chapel is not functional; the accompaniment we heard was on digital piano.

The choir made a very good sound and produced a pure tone, but the acoustic at Futuna shows up even slight lapses of intonation, of which there were a number in the hymn; the mass fared better.  The words were very clear and precise – although a little more care is needed in the pronunciation of the back ‘e’, as in ‘Christe eleison’.

There was a beautiful blend of voices, especially in the lower-pitched sections.  Unison sections were unanimous.  The ‘O salutaris’ movement was particularly beautiful, and there was a nice variety of styles between the movements, both in their composition and in how they were performed.

A Baudelaire poem was recited next: Élévation.  The English translation was printed, with that of the other poem, on a separate sheet.  It was read deliciously by Madeleine Dean, who stepped in at very short notice when the original reader became ill.  The translation guided non-speakers of French through beautiful English to the idea of the elevated soul soaring above the sorrows and pollutants of life.

Two Debussy songs followed.  The French words of one and the translations of both were printed in the main programme.  However, 8 point font is really too small to read in the semi-dark; it would have been preferable to have had a full A4 programme, as some Wellington choirs customarily do, rather than half that size, especially when the type of paper used did not show up that size of print well.

The songs are normally solo songs: Beau soir, with words by P. Bourget, and Nuit d’étoiles, words by Banville.  However, they were sung very effectively by the choir,  with perfect intonation.  The ending of the first song, in close harmony, was quite beautiful. Debussy’s use of language is just superb, and the fabulous accompaniments plus the gentle dynamics from the choir demonstrated what a wonderful composer he was.  He knew how to write for choirs, though he is not generally thought of as a choral composer.  The lower voices produced superb tone, while the sopranos were generally good, but occasionally shrill in this acoustic.

Marie Brown said some interesting words about the history of the chapel, then Madeleine Dean read the poem Le cynge by René-François Sully-Prudhomme.  Again, it was a very fine reading, the image of the swan’s characteristics and movements exquisitely described and his environment evoked.  It was appropriately followed by Brigid O’Meeghan playing the very well-known cello solo of the same name from Saint-Saëns’s Carnival of the Animals, accompanied by Julie Coulson.  It was a sonorous and lovely performance.

Berlioz was the next French composer, with two of the gorgeous songs from Nuits d’été: ‘Villanelle’ and ‘Le spectre de la rose’.  I have to confess that, though I have loved these songs for years, I don’t recall previously reading the translated words carefully.  By the prominent French poet Théophile Gautier (the title inspired by Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream), the poems are full of almost self-indulgent expressions of love.  Janey MacKenzie sang them, accompanied by Julie Coulson.  Although they were Berlioz’s own settings for piano (as opposed to his full orchestra version) I have to say that the digital piano did not provide enough timbre or resonance for these luscious songs.

The second one worked better in this building, being mainly lower in pitch.  The higher notes tended to become shrill here.  Berlioz’s sublime music needs perhaps more sensuous treatment from the singer as well as from the instrument, but nevertheless it was most ably performed.  It was a high note on which to end the French section of the programme.

Now to Nouvelle-Zélande: first, to Craig Utting, in Monument, a setting of a poem by Alistair Te Ariki Campbell, about the sort of weather we’ve had over these few days.  The piece began with the choir singing in unison, then dividing into parts.  The music had a grand and surging effect, as befitted a storm, before subsiding to a gentler choral sound, even as we could hear the northerly wind whistling around the chapel, and making its roof creak and groan.

Also about weather, but in a totally different style was Arlen and Koehler’s Stormy Weather.  Its bluesy rhythm and harmonies were amply projected, and the tone at the finish was delectable.

David Childs, formerly a church musician in Nelson and Christchurch but now resident in the United States, blended the New Zealand and French interests of the programme, with his Les Béatitudes.  An effective work, it incorporated interesting choral writing.  The French language was set extremely well.  One could have assumed the composer to be French if the programme had not told us differently.

The final item was John Rutter’s setting of A Gaelic Blessing.  This piece sounded a little less secure than did the rest of the programme, at the beginning, and there were a few less than unanimous endings to phrases towards the end.

Overall, it was a most enjoyable programme presented by very competent performers, who delivered the interesting music and readings with excellent French pronunciation.

 

Duo mosaica – violin and guitar – in first-class recital to end St Mark’s series

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Francis-Paul Demillac: Petite Suite Medievale
Piazzolla: Café 30, from Histoire du Tango
Ravel: Pièce en forme de habanera
Monti: Csárdás
Cheryl Grice: Mi Alma
Martin Jaenecke: Shade and Light; The Many Shades of Me

Duo Mosaica: Cheryl Grice, guitar, Martin Jaenecke, violin and saxophone

St. Mark’s Church, Lower Hutt

Wednesday, 31 October 2012, 12.15pm

This was the last for this year of the Hutt City lunchtime concert series.  Since early June, numerous worthwhile concerts have taken place, and the organisers are to be commended for their efforts in putting the series together.

Both the performers in the duo migrated to New Zealand – one from England; one from Germany – to teach in Nelson.  They now contribute to the musical life of Wellington, with frequent returns to Nelson for Jaenecke, who has also toured for Chamber Music New Zealand.

The varied programme was introduced by the performers – using a microphone, I’m glad to say.  The fashion for spoken introductions is fine with me as long as what is said is cogent, well-thought-out, brief and audible – as today.  Too often it is none, or only some of these things, in which case it is a waste of time, and annoying to the audience.  The dynamics and tempo of speech needs to be increased (in the first feature) and decreased (in the second) depending on the size and acoustics of the venue.  It is amazing the number of people who do not realise that in an auditorium they need to speak more slowly and loudly than in a mere room; instead, they speak as if to a small group of friends in their living room.

Speaking of dynamics; the red and black combo of the performers’ outfits added to the brightness of the event.

The duo began with an absolutely gorgeous work by Francis-Paul Demillac, a composer I had not heard of before.  The acoustic seemed to allow both instruments to speak clearly – coupled, of course, with the musicians’ impeccable techniques.

The suite opened with a calm and peaceful ‘Sicilienne’, followed by a short, lively and bouncy ‘Sonnerie’.  Next was ‘Après une page de Ronsard’ (A une jeune morte), which was much more contemplative, as suited the subject.  The final movement was entitled ‘Ronde’; a sprightly dance, with the guitar using a variety of techniques.

Piazzolla is famous for his tangoes; this one was most appealing music, more thoughtful than I imagined it would be, but full of diversity too.  These two performers are so accustomed to playing together (Martin said it was ten years) that what they produce is a unified whole, with great tone from both of them.

Ravel’s ‘Habanera’ is well-known.  Originally it was written for voice and guitar, as a vocalise – a wordless melody with accompaniment.  The players performed a transcription from Ravel’s own version for cello and piano.  The piece seemed to have less flair than usual – perhaps it was a little slow.

Cheryl Grice had to retune her guitar several times to ccommodate the requirements of the composers; I noticed that she had a cunning device (presumably electronic) attached to the top of her guitar’s fingerboard, above the tuning pegs, that she consults.  I imagine it tells her when she has precisely tuned to the required pitch.

Vittorio Monti’s famous piece has been played by all manner of instruments, but was originally written for violin.  This item was played with plenty of life – and it was obvious from the facial expressions of both performers that Martin varied things a little as the mood took him, to liven the piece up.

Then we came to the duo’s own compositions.  Cheryl said that hers was the first she had ever written, and she wrote it in 5 days.  ‘Mi Alma’ means ‘My Soul’ (why do pieces by English speakers so often get titled in another language?), and used harmonics extensively.  A gentle opening was wistful, even regretful at times, but led to more forceful passages.  It was played superbly, and ended with gentle harmonics again.

Martin’s two pieces were for guitar and saxophone; he played the soprano saxophone with aplomb.  As he said, this was a demanding combination in terms of dynamics.   After an introduction on guitar, there was a haunting, rising melody for the saxophone; after discords, the music was brought to a beautiful resolution, before darting off onto sunny slopes for the ‘Light’ part of the piece.  Altogether very attractive music.

The second piece portrayed shades of the composer’s character – introverted, extraverted, angry etc.  Parts were improvised, as he humorously explained in his introduction.  Both instruments had solo passages, the saxophone revealing its variety of tones and ability to be brazen but also subtle, though not quite as subtle as the guitar.  The piece became exciting and vigorous, then sank into a reverie, with a delicious ending.

These are two first-class musicians who play so well in combination.

 

Varied programme to mark Taliban murder of a Jewish/American journalist

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

A programme of works for cello and double bass, by Jewish and Israeli composers, plus Bach, Rossini and the Klezmer Trio for cello, viola and bass by Ross Harris; in memory of Daniel Pearl, American Jewish journalist murdered by the Taliban

Inbal Megiddo (cello), Paul Altomari (double bass), Donald Maurice (viola)

Myers Hall, Wellington Jewish Community Centre, Webb St.

Sunday, 28 October, 3pm

The Internet gives the following explanation of the occasion for this concert.  “Daniel Pearl World Music Days was created in response to the 2002 kidnapping and murder of Wall Street Journal reporter Daniel Pearl at the hands of extremists in Karachi, Pakistan. Danny’s family and friends came together to work towards a more humane world, forming the Daniel Pearl Foundation. The mission of the Foundation is to promote cross-cultural understanding through journalism, music, and innovative communications.

“Danny was a talented musician who joined musical groups in every community in which he lived, leaving behind a long trail of musician-friends spanning the entire world. Commemorating Danny’s October 10th birthday, World Music Days uses the universal language of music to encourage fellowship across cultures and build a platform for “Harmony for Humanity.”

First on this intriguing programme, after a brief speech introducing World Music Days,  was Kaddish (prayer of mourning) by Joachim Stutschewsky, a twentieth-century Israeli composer.  Naturally, it was a rather sad piece (for solo cello) – intense, strong, and even abrasive at times.  A repeated motif in a minor key was somewhat modal in character; it subsided into a regretful mood.

Next was a piece based on a song for peace, also for unaccompanied cello.  Unfortunately, Inbal Meggido’s spoken introductions were too quiet and too fast to be readily heard and understood.  Lament by Hannah Levy was written for Meggido by the contemporary Israeli composer.  Its very strong opening was like cries of pain, and was very eloquently played.  The music utilised a very wide span of the cello’s enormous range, from deep bass to high treble.  A wide compass of techniques was employed too, from biting the bow stridently into the strings to lightly skipping over them.  The work described deep sorrow rather than ‘mere’ melancholy.  At times it expressed wailing, but came to a brief calm towards the end.

We now moved to something familiar: Bach’s Suite no.1 in G major for solo cello.  The suites are the cellist’s Bible – or should we say Old Testament in this case?  The Prelude made a promising beginning, although I found the slurring between bass notes to the higher notes in the chords are little too much.  The tempos may have had something to do with it; the movement was taken somewhat faster than one often hears it.

A very lithe and supple Allemande followed, exhibiting lovely tone.  Some notes were touched very lightly; the effect was most pleasing.  The Courante was brisk and lively, but every note was present.  The slow dance that originated in Spanish America, the Sarabande, was thoughtful, rich and deep, demonstrating the cello’s sonorous capabilities to the full, while the following Minuets were animated,                                             yet played with plenty of feeling and beautiful phrasing.

The Gigue that ended the Suite included considerable contrasts in the fast dance.  These dancers were energetic and got around all over the place.

After the interval, Donald Maurice joined his viola to the cello in Beethoven’s curiously named ‘Eyeglass’ duo.  It was thus named, Maurice told us in an excellent introduction, for the bespectacled musician friends of Beethoven to whom the piece was dedicated.  In imitation, both players donned ‘eyeglasses’.

The duo consisted of an allegro followed by minuet and trio.  The work featured delightful interweavings, evocative of a conversation between the two dedicatees.  There was body in the playing and variety of tone.  Beethoven introduced some fun into his writing – pizzicato passages followed by glissandi.  The allegro was a difficult movement, resulting in some slight inaccuracies of intonation.

The minuet had echoes of the theme of the allegro, but then modulated in novel ways.  The conversations became more serious and complex, and were completed with an unexpected ending.

Yet another unfamiliar work: Rossini’s Duo for cello and double bass (titled simply ‘Duetto’ in Grove), in which Meggido was joined by her husband Paul Altomari, principal double bass player in the Vector Wellington Orchestra, who gave a good introduction to the work, which remained published until 1968.  One so seldom hears a double bass as soloist or duoist, that it was interesting to hear that the sound was not only deeper but also less direct than that of the cello.

The work featured some operatic-style themes, but overall it was not great music, though quite a work-out for the performers, especially for the bass player.  In the second movement, the bass played pizzicato while the cello had a strong melody; the third movement, loud at first, appeared to be a set of extraverted variations upon a dance-like theme.  A bright presto ended this jolly item.

Continuing the operatic theme, the players next gave us Georg Goltermann’s Souvenirs de Bellini.  Goltermann lived from 1824 to 1898.  The double bass played a rather dull accompaniment while the cello delivered operatic melodies – Meggido had a lot of playing to do before the double bass reversed things, playing its own melody, with the cello playing the accompanying passages.  Then the roles were reversed again: the cello played virtuosic passages, seemingly several parts at once.

The final piece was Klezmer Trio for viola, cello and double bass, by Wellington composer Ross Harris, who was present at the concert.  Wikipedia has this to say about Klezmer: “The genre has its origins in Eastern Europe. In the United States the genre morphed considerably as Yiddish-speaking Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe, who arrived between 1880 and 1924… met and assimilated American jazz.”

The instrumentation we heard is not listed in the Wikipedia article – but like all folk-based music, klezmer can evolve, especially when in the hands of composers who take it up and write around its melodies, styles and traditions.

The work opened with pizzicato from the two lower instruments and a melody on viola.  There was much off-beat rhythm; at one stage Altomari alternately hit the strings and played pizzicato on them.  A winsome melody from the cello intervened, then it was back to the viola, with the rhythm sustained by the double bass.  A change of key ensued; the interaction between cello and viola had a very Middle Eastern sound to me.

Some of the melodies were quite rhapsodic, their portamento technique assisting in the resulting sound being quite different from those of Western classical music.  The music returned to a very rhythmic, dancing sequence, then all the instruments knitted together for an exciting syncopated ending.

This was indeed an interesting and varied programme, mainly of unexplored music.

 

Choral and orchestral extension of case law advocated by Wellington lawyers and jurists

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Counsel in Concert: At the Movies

Music, mainly classical, from the films

Choir and orchestra of lawyers (with some NZSO and Vector Wellington Orchestra players in the orchestra), Deborah Wai Kapohe (soprano), Amanda Barclay, Jared Holt (baritone), John Beaglehole (tenor), Douglas Mews (keyboards), Kenneth Young (conductor)

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

Tuesday, 23 October 2012, 12.15pm & 5.30pm

These lawyers worked to a brief of abbreviated (or should that be a-breve-iated?) musical works.  Some were very short excerpts, for example, the opening bars only of Strauss’s Also Sprach Zarathustra, which opened the 45-minutes-long concert and gave Douglas Mews a little burst on the organ in the gallery, and the final item ‘Ode to Joy’ from Beethoven’s 9th symphony, of which we heard only the final part of the chorus.  Most people will be familiar with these two movies (2001: A Space Odyssey, and A Clockwork Orange).  Despite its brevity, the Strauss was much more exciting in its impact, being live, than the recording of the full work heard on radio that very morning.

In between, there were several speeches, notably by concert organiser Merran Cooke, who besides being a lawyer is an oboist in the Vector Wellington Orchestra.  Other items from the choir were part of the ‘Dies Irae’ from Verdi’s Requiem, Nella Fantasia by Ennio Morricone (arr. Snyder), from the film The Mission, with Deborah Wai Kapohe (choir and harp very attractive here), Conquest of Paradise by Vangelis (of Chariots of Fire fame), and, most notably, a work especially written for this occasion by orchestra member Aaron Lloydd: Fundamental Obligations of Lawyers.  This set words from section 4 of the Lawyers and Conveyancers Act 2006; an unusual text, indeed.  The choir made a good, strong sound in all its items, but sometimes was swamped by the brass in the resonant acoustic of the church.  The choral writing was somewhat plain, but effective – more like a chant – it was probably a necessary characteristic if the words were to be heard, which they were.  The orchestral writing was more interesting, with some lovely percussion effects – befitting for bandsman Lloydd.  There were, too, some delicious woodwind effects, with sounds which were evocative – but not of the law!

Then there was a fanfare – that used by 20th Century Fox for the introductory screen to its movies – this case was very quickly resolved, with plenty of clamour.  Its composer was Newman (Randy, I assume).  The theme from Mission: Impossible was another brief display.  This music was by Schifrin, arranged Custer.  One trusts that this and the Morricone arrangement were done  with due regard to copyright law.

The items for the soloists received less condensed renditions.  Deborah Wai Kapohe’s ‘O mio babbino caro’ from Gianni Schicchi, by Puccini to which the singer gave an excellent introduction, was utterly ravishing.  Orchestra and singer were both in fine form.

Jared Holt followed with ‘Largo al factotum’, the famous aria by Rossini, from The Barber of Seville.  Like Wai Kapohe, Holt has returned to a legal career in New Zealand after some years singing in opera overseas.  His Figaro was full of character and wit;

The third solo was ‘La Donna e Mobile’ from Rigoletto by Verdi, the third in a trio of very popular operatic arias.  John Beaglehole’s singing was very fine, if his voice was a little light for Verdi.  The orchestra played with spirit and accuracy.  His introduction and singing had the necessary sarcastic humour.

‘Pie Jesu’ from Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Requiem was sung most affectingly by Amanda Barclay and Deborah Wai Kapohe, though the style was somewhat too operatic for this simple piece.  Douglas Mews accompanied sympathetically on the baroque organ.  For the next item, the Vangelis, he played the piano.

Kenneth Young directed his counsel very well, particularly in view of the fact (of which we were informed) that he had taken on the case fairly recently, due to the previous conductor, Owen Clarke, moving to Auckland.

The concert was quite informal in the way the choir wandered on, chattering, and in its late start – perhaps a contrast with the court scene many of the participants are more accustomed to?

Tumultuous applause greeted every item, and the large audiences responded to a very good effort all round from the performers.  An irritant was the clicking of a camera upstairs during a number of the items, a phenomenon increasingly apparent in a variety of concerts recently.

Far from sticking to the letter of the law, the whole enterprise, and the performances, showed flair and originality.  Should we look for the chiropractors’ chorale, or the diplomatic dancers?

 

Interesting if somewhat problematic concert at Futuna Chapel

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Colours of Futuna: Looking Upwards

Music by Pergolesi, Handel and Rossini

Janey MacKenzie (soprano), Jody Orgias (mezzo), Douglas Mews (keyboard)

Futuna Chapel, Karori

Sunday, 21 October, 2pm

Part of a 14-week Sunday afternoon series of short concerts held in, and celebrating, John Scott’s beautiful chapel, this concert featured mainly sacred vocal music.

The series of concerts is an excellent way of both celebrating the architectural gem from the 1960s, that at one stage was threatened with demolition after the Society of Mary retreat centre on the site closed and the land was sold and developed, and of raising money for its maintenance.  It is a pity that the flyer giving information about the concerts gives an incorrect number in Friend Street.  There is excellent information on the Futuna Chapel website.  The chapel, opened in 1961, was obviously named after the Pacific island of Futuna, where the Marists had missionary work.

The venue is small and intimate, ideal for chamber music concerts of all types, and very resonant, with all its timber and hard surfaces.  This means that there is no difficulty in hearing instruments or singing; on this occasion the volume was at times almost overpowering.  There was a need for the singers to adjust their dynamics to the size and clear, intimate acoustics of the venue.  It is quite hard on the voices, since everything shows.

The singers gave excellent spoken introductions to their music, the first item of which was Pergolesi’s Stabat Mater of 1736, or rather, four movements from it.  Douglas Mews performed the accompaniment on a digital piano – a bit of a come-down perhaps for Pergolesi (and for Douglas Mews too), but probably the only option.

The first excerpt was a duet, ‘Sancta Mater, istud agas’, the next a soprano solo, ‘Cuius animam gementem’, the third a mezzo solo, ‘Eia Mater, fons amoris’, and the last also a duet, ‘Quando corpus moretur’.  The lachrymose mood of the Stabat Mater, and indeed of all the vocal items in the concert, I found rather depressing on a sunny Sunday afternoon.  Nevertheless, the singing was mostly fine, apart from the excessive volume at times, and an unattractive edge to Jody Orgias’s voice in the higher register.  At the lower part of her range, her voice is rich and powerful – although at times a bit too powerful for her partner’s tone to come through.

We then moved to Handel, and his operas Orlando and Giulio Cesare.  The opening duet was from Orlando, while the solo ‘Piangero’ (yet more weeping and mourning), was from Giulio Cesare, as were the following two items.  These found Janey MacKenzie in good voice; Jody Orgias showed her flexibility and mastery of the music – and how deep she could sing – in ‘Va tacito’.  The duet ‘Son nata a lagrimar (there it is again!) was very effective, affecting and dramatically sung.

In between, Douglas Mews played the well-known Harmonious Blacksmith variations, which were well-suited to the instrument, and gave a pleasingly familiar and cheerful interlude.  I haven’t heard them played for years, though they used to be one of my ‘party pieces’.  Unfortunately, the piece demonstrated that the instrument was not evenly voiced, the notes in the middle register being stronger and more insistent.  This characteristic became rather tiresome.  Nevertheless, the playing was very expressive.

Now for something completely different – or was it?  We moved forward 100 years to Rossini, and his bouncy, operatic style of music.  It was still the woes of the sinners, and Mary’s pain, but in a much changed mode of expression  The Pergolesi and the Handel tolerated the keyboard accompaniment, the harpsichord that they would have used (along with other instruments) not being so very resonant.  However, the Rossini certainly missed the orchestra, or at least a grand piano, since the digital keyboard lacked the resonance necessary to reproduce the orchestral music of Rossini’s operatic style adequately.

The ‘Quis es homo’ from Rossini’s Stabat Mater and ‘Qui Tollis’ from his Petite Messe Solennelle, a late work, were operatic in character, and the duets were sung well, with complete cohesion, apart from some volume imbalance between the parts in ‘Qui Tollis’.

The two movements were separated (or joined?) by the Offertory, played by Douglas Mews.  Rossini’s first version calls for a harmonium, while in the second it is set for full orchestra.  Thus, a tall order either way, but it was appealingly played

The concert, therefore, had an ecclesiastical environment and content; the other ecclesiastical feature was the curate’s egg.

 

Five violinists and a cellist at student recital at St Andrew’s

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

String Students of the New Zealand School of Music

Brahms: Sonata no.1 for violin and piano in G major, Op.78
Mozart: Violin Concerto no.5, K.219; 3rd movement
Bach: Sonata no.1 in G minor, BWV 1001: Fuga; Sonata no.2 in A minor, BWV 1003; Andante
Bloch: ‘Prayer’ from Jewish Life,  Suite no.1
Mendelssohn: Violin Concerto in E minor, Op.64, 3rd movement

Annabel Drummond, Lydia Harris, Julian Baker, Hester Bell Jordan, Kate Oswin (violins), Alexandra Partridge (cello), Rafaelle Garlick-Grice, Matthew Oswin (piano)

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday, 17 October 2012, 12.15pm

The lunch-time concert was more than usually dramatic, with an earthquake occurring while Julian Baker was playing his Bach, but he carried right on, and showed no sign of discomposure.

First on the programme, though, was Annabel Drummond, a first-year student, playing the Brahms movement.  This is a long movement, marked vivace ma non troppo.  There were a few slight intonation glitches, but the expressive playing and superb tone Annabel gained from her instrument made these of no significance.  The sparkling piano part complemented the mellow, lyrical violin part, and had the limelight itself at times.

The gently melancholy character of the sonata, particularly the funeral march section (which belied the tempo marking) was conveyed beautifully, while the more rapid sections were fine too, despite a very brief lapse into harsh tone from the violin.  A splendid technique contributed to a wonderful performance in which Brahms’s work was played with feeling.

Lydia Harris gave us the third movement of Mozart’s concerto nicknamed ‘Turkish’.  Her violin had a strong sound, and she played with clarity, but not the sweetness of tone of the previous player, some stridency, even abrasiveness at times, on the upper strings, and not enough delicacy.  The intonation was occasionally awry.  There was too much pedal used in the piano part for Mozart.  The whole movement was, to my mind, played a trifle too fast, though it was not without character.

Next up was J.S. Bach, in the capable hands of Julian Baker, who played the unaccompanied fugue from memory.  His spoken introduction was good, and very clear.  The difficult music was executed very competently on the whole, despite a number of lapses in the double-stopping.  For a first-year student, this was very fine Bach playing; he had the audience totally absorbed (well, some of us lost concentration briefly, but not the performer) with idiomatic Bach, and a rich tone.

A cello followed, by way of variety.  Ernest Bloch’s piece was a shorter work than others on the programme, but of considerable interest.  Playing from memory, Alexandra Partridge proved to be a confident cellist, and one able to produce a lovely sonorous tone from her instrument.  There was plenty of subtlety and a range of dynamics in her performance; the excellent empathy between cellist and pianist was noticeable.

Hester Bell Jordan, playing the Bach Andante, seemed rather tentative.  Maybe it was nerves, but her tone was not consistent.  While there was care with the baroque style of phrasing away the second of each pair of notes, the performance came over as rather hesitant, with insufficient flow.  Certainly, the amount of double-stopping made this a difficult piece to bring off.

The last performer was Kate Oswin, whose brother Matthew accompanied her in the piano reduction of the orchestral score of the third movement of Mendelssohn’s violin concerto, probably the most frequently performed of any violin concerto.  It was a challenging role for both players, the violinist playing from memory, not made easier by being played a little faster than the marking might suggest.  The violin part was well under Kate’s fingers.  However, she does not have a big sound, and the piano sometimes had too much volume in comparison.

I felt the performance was a little too glib.  All the notes were there, but there was a lack of expression or dynamic alteration – indeed, the tempo made it more difficult to convey feeling and nuance.  It felt a little like a race of technical brilliance, rather than music.  There is no doubt that this 3rd-year student was more advanced technically than the first year students – but musically?  It needed to be more winsome.

A couple of people remarked to me how lucky we are to have these lunch-hour concerts (free, with opportunity for koha), in which we hear superb music from accomplished musicians.  I strongly echo that.