Author: Rosemary Collier

Flute, oboe and cello give delightful lunchtime recital at St Andrew’s

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Bach: Sonata in G major, BWV 1039
Beethoven: Variations on ‘La ci darem la mano’
Ginastera: Duo for flute and oboe
Haydn: Trio no.3 in G major

Nikau Trio (Karen Batten, flute; Madeline Sakofsky, oboe; Margaret Guldborg, cello)

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday, 6 June 2012, 12.15pm

Another day of atrocious weather in Wellington, nevertheless the audience was of a reasonable size at this delightful concert.

Despite using modern instruments, the trio managed to make an almost baroque sound in the Bach sonata – quite gorgeous. The slow-fast-slow-fast movements all had their appeal, particularly the third, adagio e piano, which had a pastoral quality. The players were notable for their absolute accuracy and very good cohesion.

Beethoven made an arrangement of Mozart’s well-known aria from his opera Don Giovanni that might have amazed the original composer, with its inventive variety.  Though Beethoven’s original combination of instruments was not what we heard, it has been performed by numbers of different combinations of three instruments.

The theme was stated in a lovely pianissimo, followed by the dance-like first variation with its dotted rhythm.  The second variation featured flowing cello quavers as accompaniment to the other two players, in mellifluous harmony.

The variations were successively fast and slow; in all, the writing for the instruments was delightfully interwoven.  One in a minor key developed the theme in interesting harmonic ways.  Then there was a variation in syncopated time.  The ingeniousness of Beethoven’s ways of varying the theme was astonishing.  Some sounded quite modern, with stresses on passing notes, and humorous treatments, such as in the last variation, with its mock-serious ending.

This trio’s spot-on ensemble was notable again in the Ginastera work in three movements: Sonata, Pastorale (serene but with a plaintive quality), and Fuga (a dance-like movement; sprightly, with a jokey ending).  A leading Latin American composer, Ginastera died as recently as 1983.  He incorporated folk melodies in his neo-classical music such as here.

Haydn’s trio was originally written for two flutes and cello, but lost nothing in its arrangement for this combination.  One of Haydn’s ‘London’ trios, this was thoroughly charming in what Karen Batten described as ‘a sunny key’.  The Spiritoso first movement was indeed spirited, but also lilting and tuneful.  The Andante that followed was more serious; the players were in beautiful accord.  The Allegro finale was cheerful, exploiting the instruments brilliantly, revealing the range and variety of timbre of each instrument.

The entire recital was one of wholly engaging and enlivening music.

 

Anniversaries the pretext for chamber organ recital for Organists’ Congress

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Wellington Organists’ Association – New Zealand Association of Organists’ Congress
Sweelinck to Stanley

Sweelinck: Ballo del granduce; ‘Flow my tears;’  Onder een linde groen;  Fantasia Chromatica;
Charles Stanley: Voluntary IX in G major Op.VII;  Three Songs from ‘The Muse’s Delight’; Solo III for flute and basso continuo, Op.1;  Voluntary VIII in D minor Op. V;  Song: The Blind Boy
Handel: ‘Sweet Bird’ (from L’Allegro, Il Penseroso ed Il Moderato)

Douglas Mews (organ, harpsichord, virginal), Rowena Simpson (soprano), Penelope Evison (baroque flute)

Adam Concert Room, Victoria University of Wellington

Saturday, 2 June, 7.30pm

As part of ‘Wellington 2012’, the Organists’ Congress, this concert was offered to participants and the public as something involving the organ, but more intimate than the Friday Symphony Orchestra concert with the Poulenc Organ Concerto, and the recital at Wellington Cathedral of St. Paul the following day, both featuring eminent French organist Olivier Latry.  The composers were chosen because of their anniversaries this year: 450 years since the birth of Sweelinck, and 300 years since the birth of Stanley.

Clarity of instruments and voice was the hallmark in the relatively small, but acoustically alive Adam Concert Room.  The two-manual and pedal Reil Dutch organ is set in the room, not in a special organ chamber.  To my mind, some of the ranks are harsh and even abrasive in this acoustic.  However, the flute stops employed in some of the Sweelinck (1562-16211) variations on an Italian dance tune that Douglas Mews, Artist-in-Residence for the Congress, played first, gave a mellow and liquid sound that was most attractive.

Next, the versatile Mews played virginal for Rowena Simpson’s first song, ‘Flow my teares’ by John Dowland, following which we heard Sweelinck’s keyboard variation  upon the melody, ‘Pavana Lachrymae’.  The dark, sad mood of both was eminently well conveyed.

A song in Sweelinck’s native language, Dutch, was sung by Simpson, before the four variations were played, this time on the organ.  With study in The Hague behind her, Simpson sang the words fluently and clearly – as indeed she did in all her items.

‘Fantasia Chromatica’ on the organ displayed the skill of the composer in intertwining melodies along with a chromatic theme.  It was an interesting example of music of the period conveying changes of mood, as well as demonstrating Douglas Mews’s great skill in playing organ music of this period.

Charles John Stanley (1712-1786) was a prolific English composer for the organ.  The first items, the three songs, were interspersed between movements of the flute piece (really a sonata).  Here, Douglas Mews accompanied on the harpsichord.  Penelope Evison’s expertise on the transverse flute (wooden, of course) was a delight to hear, while the songs, with their commentary on men, maids, and the pros and cons of the two getting together, were interpreted with flair by Rowena Simpson.

The second voluntary was quite a vehement piece compared with the earlier one, and more demanding on the skill of the performer – a demand that was fully met.

Stanley had very restricted vision for most of his life, so the song of the blind boy was quite poignant, though the poem (by Colley Cibber) ends on a more positive note, explaining that the boy can ‘bear a loss I ne’er can know.  Then let not what I cannot have my cheer of mind destroy: Whilst thus I sing I am a king, although a poor blind boy.’  Accompanied on the virginal, the song was sung in an appropriately touching manner.

The recital ended with soprano, flute and organ performing Handel’s ‘Sweet Bird’, to introduce the association between Handel and Stanley, the latter having conducted Handel’s operas and oratorios.  This song from Il Penseroso (words by John Milton) represented sadness, enlivened by the flute imitating the nightingale.

Thus ended an evening’s pleasant entertainment, demonstrating the musical arts of two periods in which the organ was eminent.

 

 

 

Spellbound by NZSO and the organ of Olivier Latry

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Spellbound: magic and mystery

Dukas: The Sorcerer’s Apprentice
Poulenc: Organ Concerto
Rimsky-Korsakov: Scheherazade, Op.35 (1. The sea and Sinbad’s Ship; 2. The Kalender Prince; 3. The young prince and the young princess; 4. Festival at Baghdad – the sea)

New Zealand Symphony Orchestra with Olivier Latry, organ, conducted by Rossen Milanov

Wellington Town Hall

Friday, 1 June 2012, 6.30pm

This was a spectacle of aural colour, the entire concert being made up of works that threatened to bleed the aural palette dry.  To those of us who play the organ, it was a thrill to see the Wellington Town Hall almost full of people who had come to hear our instrument.

According to Olivier Latry, in his entertaining, informative and well-attended question and answer session with the conductor prior to the concert, Paul Dukas did not compose more music because he was so heavily involved in teaching at the Paris Conservatoire, where he was eventually followed by the rather similarly-named Jean Roger-Ducasse.  That he had the ability to be a more eminent composer is amply demonstrated by his well-known Sorcerer’s Apprentice.

The pre-concert session focused on the Organ Concerto of Poulenc, and some humorous exchanges took place.  Milanov likened the organ to a large truck – the ‘driver’ could only see him by means of his rear-vision mirror.  He said he dared not overtake such a large vehicle!  Olivier, in answer to a question from the floor, said he thought the nature of the piece was ambiguous: was it religious, secular, or a bit of both?  He related how in Paris a performance of the organ concerto at Notre Dame had rated a higher decibel level than the Concorde!

Before returning to Dukas, I want to air (again!) one of my pet gripes.  Why are we not allowed to read the programme during the concert?  I could just make out the words, but the lady next to me obviously had poor vision, and had brought a magnifying glass with her, but had to give up.  In the United Kingdom, the Arts Council pays for large-font printed programmes at plays, opera and concerts.

A concert that was book-ended by Dukas’s work and Rimsky-Korsakov’s made for a certain symmetry: they were a good match.  The French composer’s The Sorcerer’s Apprentice was inspired by a ballad by a German (Goethe), based on a second century story by a Greek.  Certainly it included a huge variety of colours.  The music was perhaps some of the most inventive ever written for orchestra.  There were shades of Stravinsky, whom he influenced, and Messiaen, whom he taught.

The eerie opening was carefully conducted by Bulgarian conductor Milanov, an elegant and precise but poetic conductor to watch.  He conducted both this work and the Rimsky-Korsakov without use of the score.  The bassoons’ announcement of the theme was accompanied by wonderful sorties on the strings and horns.  A spooky rise in the drama follows.  The composer’s cataclysmic orchestrations and development leave one gob-smacked.  Drums and cymbals with full brass precede a quiet introduction to the romantic ending.  This features a viola solo being the apologetic apprentice who has wrought so much havoc, plaintively performed by Julia Joyce with harp interjections, before the closing bar spurts at us, double forte, to despatch the apprentice.

After quotations from  J.S. Bach at the opening of Poulenc’s organ concerto, I fancied I could hear some thematic links with Dukas in the more lyrical passages from the organ.  The orchestra followed at a respectful distance.  When some of the tonal qualities surprised me, I was reminded of Latry’s remark in the pre-concert session, when asked about the Town Hall organ, that ‘This organ speaks English!’.

The seven movements were played without any breaks.  The opening andante proceeded in a very restrained fashion after the initial outburst; gorgeous quiet tone from both strings and organ.  However, a crashing volume from the organ interrupted the reverie: we were into the allegro giocoso, and then the familiar theme of the concerto arrived.  Some of this music seemed to foreshadow minimalism.

The next andante was very beautiful and even languid.  Bird sounds from violins and violas played against solid cello and organ tones.  Its lustrous ending made its mark, mesmerising, but with growing intensity, before the music moved on to the molto agitato fourth movement.  All is suddenly amplified and accelerated.  There is great excitement as the organ rushes through rapid paces, increasingly loud, then the quietude returns with mellow sounds on the organ followed by a solo on a reed stop.  This is the slow fifth movement: “Très calme. Lent.”

The return of the familiar quick theme was there suddenly, on the organ, accompanied by the orchestra in this sixth movement: “Tempo de l’Allegro initial”.  Chords many layers thick are played before Bach returns.  Then all is stilled in silvery tones, followed by another viola solo, accompanied by pizzicato from all except the first violins; the solo is repeated on the principal cello as pizzicato, with slow chords on the organ to herald the final (seventh) movement: “Tempo introduction. Largo.”  A huge unison for organ and orchestra ends the work.

The concerto is not only for organ and string orchestra: there is a large and challenging role for the timpanist.  It is sometimes known as the concerto for organ, timpani, and strings.  Certainly here (and also in the Rimsky-Korsakov work) Laurence Reese had more than enough to do.  When moving down from the organ to take his bow, Latry shook hands with Reese.

Latry played with great accomplishment and immaculate technique and musicianship.  As well as immense appreciative applause from the audience for the soloist and for the modest conductor, Julia Joyce and Andrew Joyce, principal viola and cello were  singled out.  A return curtain call for Olivier Latry was thoroughly deserved; he in turn showed his pleasure at the reception.

After the interval we were treated to a marvellous performance of Rimsky-Korsakov’s very virtuosic Scheherazade (or more usually Sheherazade).   Among many outstanding features were the violin solos of Sultana Scheherazade’s theme, played by Vesa-Matti Leppänen and Ingrid Bauer’s wonderful harp accompaniment to that theme: the combination was simply stunning, as indeed were the strings, especially in their pianissimos, throughout the work.

The exotic themes are now familiar to many (and the movements have been played on radio, on separate days recently), but must have been remarkable at the first performance (it was written in 1888).  The  work could be considered a symphony by its length and its four movements, but in no way is it a standard symphony.  In the pre-concert talk, conductor Milanov described it as the first concerto for orchestra; it was easy to see why.

A little ‘fluff’ from the horn early on did little to detract from the fine playing of the entire orchestra throughout the work.  An enchanting oboe solo accompanied by solo cello, another violin solo, and then all the colours were thrown at us, while the timpanist was flat out.  Sinbad certainly struck some storms!  But then things calmed down, and the waves sparkled by, before the next outburst.  There was a magical ending to the first movement, with a return to the music played at the beginning: violin solo and harp.

Bassoon and oboe were splendid in music that evoked the exotic – markets, harems, silken draperies – as we meet the prince in his fabulous setting, in which spices and strange odours abound.  How is it that the oboe seems exotic, yet in another context it seems the epitome of English pastoral landscapes?  Of course, it is all in the writing of skilled composers.

Brass now had the opportunity to come to the fore, followed by thrumming pizzicato with the lone clarinet theme.  Cor anglais, flute and piccolo get their turns at solos against the thrumming – marvellous.  Layer upon layer of sound emerged – or perhaps rather, the intricate woven design of a Persian carpet.  The orchestra was splendid, here declaiming, there speaking sotto voce.

In the fourth movement we hear the familiar themes, but now the Scheherazade theme played by Vesa-Matti Leppänen was double-stopped, with oriental-sounding harmonies.  While there was a lot of repetition of themes in the Rimsky-Korsakov work, there was huge variety of treatment.  All comes together in a mammoth explosion of exuberance, followed by the final repetition of Scheherazade’s theme, joined by the deep theme of the Sultan.  As Milanov explained prior to the concert, this is a catharsis – adding significantly ‘We change at the end’.  As the violin solo was played for the last time, the conductor looked at Leppänen with obvious appreciation.  (Indeed, he told us before the concert that this was a world-class orchestra.  Certainly, it excelled itself in this concert.)

The final pizzicato was not together, but this could hardly detract from such a massive and wonderful performance, full of fabulous settings.  Solos from violin, viola, cello, horn, clarinet and other woodwinds, not to mention the prominence of the fabulous harp, enlivened this gorgeous work.

What a thoroughly exotic and colourful evening we had!  French music based on a German poem based on a Greek story, a rare organ concerto from the twentieth century, and now a Russian writing oriental music.  It was a lively and engrossing programme; there was so much going on, visually as well as aurally.  The percussion had a field day.

A feature of the printed programme was the very full and well-written notes.  Each work commanded much more detail than we have become accustomed to.

The nearly full hall, and the very enthusiastic reception to the concert, and to Olivier Latry in particular, perhaps proves what I heard Paul Rosoman say in an interview on radio regarding the Queen’s Birthday Weekend’s Wellington 2012 Organ Congress, that interest in the organ has rekindled recently, compared with the situation over the last couple of decades.  This was demonstrated by 11 entries in the Congress’s performance competition, compared with 3 or 4 in previous years.

Let’s hope that Latry’s sensitive and brilliant performance will have inspired more to take up the ‘King of Instruments’.

 

 

Organist Paul Rosoman opens Old Saint Paul’s lunchtime series

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Froberger: Capriccio III
J.S. Bach: Partite Diverse ‘O Gott du frommer Gott’ BWV 767; Prelude and Fugue in D minor BWV 539; Prelude and Fugue in M minor BWV 544

Paul Rosoman, organ

Old St. Paul’s, Mulgrave Street

Tuesday, 29 May 2012, 12.15pm

Tuesday saw the first of the lunchtime concerts at Old St. Paul’s for 2012; the first of  a series that runs weekly until late September.  It was well-attended, in a rather cold church – though the under-seat heaters were on.

Cold fingers may have been a bit of a problem for Paul Rosoman, especially early in the concert, since a number of ‘fluffs’ occurred in an otherwise well-executed recital.  There were, too, a few out-of-tune pipes in the organ.

A problem with most organ recitals is that the audience cannot see the performer’s face, only their back view.  Therefore, compared with almost any other musical performance, there is less of a feeling of communication between player and listener.  I have been to exceptions: at Wellington Cathedral of St. Paul when the downstairs moveable console was used, and in Calgary, Alberta, when a similar console was played.

This organ is a relatively small two-manual and pedal organ in the baroque style, installed in 1977.  It works by tracker action; that is, a direct mechanical action, not electro-pneumatic, electric or electronic.  It has a strong, clear sound and a surprising array of  tonal qualities can be obtained.

The Froberger piece was a pleasing example of pre-Bach organ music.  It was very well suited to this instrument.  A range of colours was employed; the pedal tone was particularly fine.

Paul Rosoman’s brief spoken introduction to the Bach pieces singled out the Partite Diverse as being ‘Bach at his finest, particularly in the last stanza’.  That is, the last stanza of the hymn on which the parts of the whole were based.  He explained that each variation corresponded with a verse of the hymn, being eight in all.  Some illustrated the texts musically, perhaps illuminating the ‘seven ages of man’, through from joyful childhood to old age and death, finishing with the joy of resurrection and heaven.  It is thought to date from Bach’s late teens; if so, it is remarkable.

The work, written for manuals only, opened with a strong rendering of the chorale (hymn tune).  A splendid reed solo was the feature of the first variation.  The second was not so lively, being calmer and less colourful.  The third employed flute stops, including the 2-foot, to give a bright yet light timbre.

All the variations were abundant in invention and variety.  Number four featured the Principal, and was relatively solemn and steady, while the fifth variation gave us reeds – was this illustrating man’s bombastic stage of life?  A less brightly resplendent, more contemplative sixth variation followed.  The swell pedal was used to introduce a quieter section in this partita.

The seventh variation began very quietly and slowly, probably to illustrate old age.  This was not the vibrant ‘third age’ that many of us today aspire to!  Death cannot have been far off .  The last variation’s brightness on the reeds perhaps spoke of resurrection and heaven, while flutes pictured bliss and peace.  Rosoman achieved considerable contrasts between the manuals; a more sombre and sober section was followed by declaiming reeds again, at the end.  This was a most interesting and attractive work, played in an accomplished and satisfying manner.

The Prelude in D minor was composed separately from the Fugue, and there is a theory that the pair were matched up long after Bach’s death.  The prelude was written for manuals only, and after the delights we had just experienced, it sounded rather dull by comparison; it was a relatively plain work – described in the excellent programme notes as ‘modest’.  There was good phrasing from Rosoman, but I would have liked a little more crispness and separation of notes in both movements; this would have made the fugue, particularly, more engaging.

The fugue had no rumbustious ending, just a few flourishes, unlike many of Bach’s fugues; this prelude and fugue constituted the weakest item in the recital.  Not that I was after mere noise; harmonically and even contrapuntally this work was less than arresting.

The B minor Prelude and Fugue were a complete contrast to the previous work.  Known as ‘grand’, it lived up to its name in breadth and excitement.  The prelude was vintage Bach, with lots of contrapuntal complexity, including surprising harmonies and modulations.  A bold fugue followed, utilising the mixture stops on the instrument.  The pedal version of the fugue melody was very clear; the piece demonstrated the clarity and versatility of this small organ, and the competence of the performer.

This recital was a fine start to the year’s season at Old St. Paul’s.

 

Bartók’s Duos on folk music from two violists, Donald Maurice and Claudine Bigelow

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Bartók: Excerpts from 44 Duos; field recordings made 1906-1915

Claudine Bigelow and Donald Maurice (violas)

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday, 16 May 2012, 12.15pm

Despite the atrocious weather in Wellington the audience was of a reasonable size at what was a lecture-recital rather than a concert – but none the worse for that.

Donald Maurice is well known locally as a violist, and as one of the performers and the promoter of Alfred Hill’s string quartets recordings.

Caroline Bigelow came here from the Brigham Young University School of Music on a Fulbright scholarship, to work with Donald Maurice.  In a recent radio interview I heard, she paid tribute to Donald Maurice, whom she had met some years ago at an International Viola Congress.

Both performers gave quite lengthy spoken introductions to Bartók and the Duos, which were written for two violins. They are recording the duos for CD; the recording, like the concert, will feature the composer’s field recordings made from 1906 to 1915, upon which these 1931 compositions are based.  It will be the first recording of them for two violas, and is being produced in collaboration with the Bartók Archive in Budapest.

It was a pity that Maurice and Bigelow (particularly the latter) did not use the microphone, since dropping the voice at the end of sentences and phrases made them inaudible at times – and I was seated near the front of the church.

Each of the 11 selections from the 44 was introduced, the translation read, and then in the relevant cases (which was most of them) the original field recording, transcribed from wax cylinders to CD, was played through the church’s speaker system, then Bartók’s duo based on that recording played.

This made for an interesting programme.  The simple melodies used different tonalities from those we now consider standard major and minor.  The first piece, ‘Midsummer Night Song’, was played with warm and rich tone, the beautiful harmonies created by Bartók and altered rhythms from the original folk song combining to create a colourful picture.

The ‘Cradle Song’ that followed was humorous, and the bi-tonality (B flat against E, Donald Maurice explained) employed by the composer appropriate to the modal original, making for a very effective piece.

In ‘Burlesque’, Bartók altered the timing from a simple one in the original to a dotted rhythm.  ‘Fairy Tale’ was an example of more complex rhythms, but such as are common in Eastern European folk music.

‘Bride’s Farewell’ far from being a joyous song, sounded mournful, especially with the unison notes and intervals of a second that the composer chose.  It was full of strong colours, compared with the earlier songs.  Like ‘Burlesque’ and the Dance that followed it, this piece was from Ruthenia.  Maurice explained that it was very difficult to get a translation of the Ruthenian language; it seems not to have survived.  Nor has the name ‘Ruthenia’, in my atlas! [Ruthenia was the small eastern-most province of Czechoslovakia as it existed between the two world wars; it had a mixed population of Hungarians, Romanians, Ukrainians and a significant Jewish population; the region was predominantly Ukrainian. Till 1919 it was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire; it is now the Zakarpattia Oblast of Ukraine, and bordered by Slovakia, Romania and Hungary. The language referred to is most likely to be Ukrainian. L.T.]

The ‘Ruthenian Dance’ used a different minor scale from the one we know today, and employed an 8/8 rhythmic pattern of 3+2+3, very evident in the accompanying part; the melody line sounded typically folksy, however.

The song ‘Sorrow’, the performers found, differed in a recording by the composer himself from what he had written in his score, as well as from the folk original he recorded. It was a plaintive piece, with woeful humour in the last line about the wench from the inn: ‘How much of my money it has cost, all in vain!’  A man sang this in the original; most of the recordings were by girls or women.

Maurice explained that in the Hungarian language, emphasis tends to be on the first syllable of words (and I recall this from a Hungarian woman I once worked with), and this informs the musical rhythms.

‘Bagpipes’ was an original melody from the composer.  Donald Maurice’s part was the drone and Bigelow’s the chanter with the melody.  It was lively and jolly, and a very good evocation of the bagpipes.  We were told that after this was written, Bartók went to Scotland, and showed much interest in the instrument.

‘Prelude and Canon’, purporting to be about two peonies blooming but ready to fade, was allegedly about two spinsters.  However, the piece (and the original) speeded up towards the end, indicating perhaps that the fact that ‘No-one will pluck them’ was no bad thing!  Here, Bartók was true to the original, but the colours of his harmonies were dark, even in the more animated section.

Another Bartók original was the ‘Pizzicato’.  The entire piece was plucked.  It was beautifully executed and a joyful little number.  Donald Maurice explained that the short duos were written by the composer for students, but he said that the last ones in the set would require very advanced students to play them, that is, this one and the next, of those we heard.

Number 44, ‘Transylvanian Dance’ was last in the set and the last performed.  It derived from the region where the composer grew up.  Again, an unusual scale (to us) was employed.  Maurice said that its exotic sound might have been because it derived from the music of migrants from India, long ago. It made for a complex and interesting piece in Bartók’s transcription.

The well-planned and played programme was fascinating, marred only by the lack of projection of the voices, particularly that of Caroline Bigelow.

The forthcoming recording will be of considerable interest.

 

Note Bene in adventurous and inspiring programme of recent choral music

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

‘May Magnificat’
Sarah MacDonald: Magnificat Tonus Peregrinus
John Tavener: Magnificat (Collegium Regale)
Arvo Pärt: Magnificat
Gerald Finzi: Magnificat
Doublas Mews (snr.): The May Magnificat
Janet Jennings: Magnificat
Charles Villiers Stanford: Magnificat in B flat for eight-part chorus

Nota Bene Chamber Choir, conducted by Peter de Blois, with soloists, and organ (Michael Fletcher)

Sacred Heart Cathedral, Hill Street

Sunday, 6 May 2012, 2.30pm

It’s always a delight to hear a Nota Bene concert, and one of the reasons is the innovative programming.  The work by Douglas Mews I had heard before, by either the New Zealand Youth Choir or Voices New Zealand, and the Stanford I have on a record made by the Youth Choir in its early days.  Otherwise, the works on the programme were new to me, but all were inspiring and deserving of more hearings – which makes me think that this choir deserves its performances to be recorded for broadcast by Radio New Zealand Concert.

A striking opening was made by the choir processing in and placing themselves at the sides of the main body of the cathedral to sing the Sarah MacDonald work, Peter de Blois conducting, and singing the part of cantor in a firm, low tenor voice.  Although the sound was well-balanced despite the choir’s dispersed positions, some of the attacks were uneven, i.e. not always together.  Nevertheless, it was an attractive opening item.

Tavener writes very effectively for choirs, but this piece was something exceptional.  His writing used the style of Greek Orthodox chant, employing microtones.  The choir carried the piece off most effectively.  In places, it reminded me of Rachmaninov’s Vespers, which is based on Russian Orthodox chant (in turn based on Greek Orthodox music).  The singing included wordless vocalising in some of the vocal parts while other parts sang words.  There were some wonderfully delicate and ethereal sounds, and great attention to the words: this was sung in English, whereas the previous item was in Latin.

Pärt’s compositional style is quite distinctive and personal.   It was beautifully performed, and there was lovely tone, especially from soloists Christine Argyle, Inese Berzina and Emily Bruce (sopranos).  In some passages, the composer had written passages with the unusual juxtaposition of very low bass against very high soprano.   I did not find the work as interesting as the Tavener, but the sense of calm and timelessness typical of Pärt was certainly there.  The choir exhibited great control and smooth delivery.

Back to an English language Magnificat: that of Gerald Finzi, composed in 1989.  After three mainly quiet works, it was good to hear the robust fortes that this choir of 37 members can produce, not to mention the grand opening on the organ, and Michael Fletcher’s tasteful accompaniment throughout.  Again there was great attention to speech patterns in this thoroughly English setting.  It was very satisfying, and sounded as though it was fun to sing.  It was a convincing and successful performance.

After an interval long enough to enable some of the audience to enjoy the beautiful day outside, it was the turn of New Zealand composers to be heard.

First was Douglas Mews (senior), in his The May Magnificat, composed in 1977 (it was very good to have the years of publication in the programme.)  Here we had not the Biblical song of Mary, but a poem of Gerard Manley Hopkins, written in 1878.

Its short rhyming lines, some of them humorous (‘Is it only being brighter/ Than the most are must delight her?’) could have made for a rather staccato composition, but it was not.  The musical writing was very varied and engaging.  There were harmonic clashes, and quirky passages to match the words.  A soprano solo sung by Maaike Christie was challenging, but performed very well, while shorter solos from Patrick Geddes and Simon Christie were confidently sung.

There were moments of harshness and inaccuracy from the choir tenors, otherwise the timbre and tone were always good, and the unaccompanied performance precise and lively, with well enunciated words.

The short work by New Zealander Janet Jennings (written in 2008) was sung with organ, from the gallery at the back of the Cathedral.  The sound from here was quite lovely, even though my seat was only just forward of being below the gallery.  As the programme note described it, this was an exuberant setting in English, for women’s voices.  There was a notably unified sound.  Jennings’s was another apt setting, following the word patterns.  The organ part featured repetitive phrases, but it was varied by changed registrations and dynamics.

Stanford’s Magnificat is a major work; probably the longest in the concert, sung from the front of the church.  Its opening is akin to the opening of J.S.Bach’s Magnificat – this may have been a deliberate quotation on Stanford’s part.  There is a lot of complex inter-weaving for the eight parts, especially after “Fecit potentiam”, with wonderful points of rest here and there.

It is a work of great competence and inspiration, requiring considerable concentration and agility from the singers.  There is plentiful dynamic contrast, in sympathy with the words, and the piece is full of variety.  The writing of  “et exaltavit humiles; esurientes implevit bonis” is especially delicious. Elsewhere the music is lively, and always vital, and going somewhere.

Although Stanford composed in many genres, it is mainly his church music that is heard today.  This is a pity, for much more that he wrote is worth airing.

A feature of this performance was the rich sound from the men, especially the basses.  The tenors, again, had an unpleasant, nasal tone at times.  The women were universally euphonious and easy on the ear.

Peter de Blois is a very experienced musician, especially as an organist and singer, and his direction of the choir was sure.   The music was obviously well-rehearsed, and it was noteworthy how confident the singers were in the Tavener piece, with its microtones.  The audience was smaller that at the last concert of Nota Bene’s, before Christmas, but still respectable, given the amount of music on in Wellington currently – and the gorgeous day outside – and warmly appreciative of this diverse and interesting programme of twentieth and twenty-first century choral music.

 

 

 

Diverting wind trio in delightful programme at St Andrew’s

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Rameau: Gavotte et Doubles
Françaix: Divertissement
Beethoven: Variations on a theme ‘La ci darem la mano’ from Mozart’s Don Giovanni
Schulhoff: Three movements from Divertissement for oboe, clarinet and bassoon

Wild Reeds: Calvin Scott (oboe), Mary Scott clarinet), Alex Chan (bassoon)

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday, 2 May 2012, 12.15pm

The playing of the ‘Wild Reeds’ was wonderfully uplifting right from the start of their programme.  It may have been a wild wind with rain outside, but this ensemble, far from being wild, was precise and euphonious.

The Rameau work was delightful in its several contrasting movements that contained solos, with mainly harmony on the other instruments.  The pieces were an arrangement of a Rameau keyboard work.

The printed programme had excellent notes on the works, and on the history of this combination of instruments.  The Trio des anches de Paris was evidently formed in 1927 by a bassoonist; he and his colleagues believed that the flute and horn did not blend well with reed instruments. It was good, too, to have the dates of composition of the works.

The Françaix piece featured tricky timing in places, especially in the second movement, but these players were always together; their expertise as performers was not in question at any point.

This was quite unconventional and quirky music, reminding me of the writing for woodwind of Françaix’s fellow-countryman and near contemporary, Poulenc, not to mention the slightly earlier Ravel and Satie.

The third movement, Élégie, of this four-movement work was not as peaceful as one might expect a work having this title to be. The Scherzo could have been depicting birds having a squabble, at the start.  Then they make up, yet there was still the odd disagreement before they went their separate ways and did their own thing, stopping just to say a spiky ‘good-bye’.

Beethoven’s Variations reveal masterly treatment of this great melody from Mozart.  The first variation gave the solo writing to the oboe, the second to the bassoon – who would have imagined that this instrument could be so rapidly talkative?

The third was slow and harmonic, while the fourth provided rapid passages for all three instruments at first, followed by some that were mainly for oboe.  The fifth was a contrast, being in a minor key, while the sixth had the clarinet leading the variation.  Variation seven had the lower tones on the clarinet playing along with the bassoon, which had solo sections, while rapid passages were played by the clarinet.  Finally, we had a slow, languid ending restating the theme.

The last item on the programme consisted of three movements (Charleston, Florida and Rondino) from the Schulhoff Divertissement.  The lively Charleston had the instruments sometimes almost seeming to be at one another’s throats!  Florida was a more lyrical piece, with a surprise ending, and Rondino was fast – a sort of perpetuum mobile, with a few stopping places along the way, and a sudden ending.

This programme seemed slightly short, but the players obliged with an encore: a trio that follows a soprano solo in J.S. Bach’s Cantata no.68.  The original instrumentation was violin, oboe and bassoon. The instrumentation of Wild Reeds sounded quite spiky, but very effective.

The delight the audience obviously had in this highly skilled group’s performance demands that St. Andrew’s must schedule them again.  Its programme selection was interesting, and the combination of instruments refreshing; the players were expert musicians indeed.

Memorable concert by visiting expatriate musicians

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Wellington Chamber Music

Milhaud: Suite for violin, clarinet and piano, Op.157b; Fauré: Piano Trio in D minor, Op.120; Messiaen: Quartet for the End of Time

Akoka Quartet (Simeon Broom, violin; Rachel Church, piano; Victoria Simonsen, cello; Sarah Masters, clarinet)

Ilott Theatre

Sunday, 22 April 2012, 3.00pm

These young New Zealanders have all studied in the United Kingdom, and are currently playing professionally there.  Simonsen and Masters are no strangers to the Messiaen work, having jointly won the Granada Chamber Music Competition in the UK, performing this music.  They have considerable experience playing in chamber ensembles, orchestras, and solo, in New Zealand, UK, and Europe.

Their all-French programme revealed how unlike French composers can be from one another, and it was a very satisfying collection of works, surprisingly, all written within a 20-year span.

Having in the distant past played the Milhaud work with friends (one of whom was present at this concert), I was delighted to hear it live.

The clarinet particularly was pleasing in the first movement ‘Ouverture’.  Humour, jazz and off-beat rhythms are all features of this movement.  Later, the piano and violin came into their own more.  The ‘Divertissement’ slow movement is marked by lovely interlocking parts, while the ‘Jeu’ third movement, for violin and clarinet only, is bright, lively and dance-like, with a contemplative middle section.  The ‘Introduction et final’ that ends the work is bouncy with great melodies, and ends deliciously, with a cheerful ‘good-night’.

The work was played with panache and expression; some hesitancy in the violin early on disappeared, and the joyous nature of Milhaud’s writing found full flowering.

Each item was introduced by a different member of the quartet, the information filling out what was in the programme notes.  I find this an interesting feature, becoming more common in chamber music concerts.  It helps to give a flavour to each of the players and they become not only musicians but also communicators.

The Fauré trio is very different from the previous work.  After a very ardent opening on the cello, the strings continued with mellifluous, singing quality, ably supported by a delectable piano part.

The andantino slow movement had classical interplay of melody between cello and violin, with serene supporting chords from the piano.  The music gradually became impassioned.

The final movement is somewhat idiosyncratic, and there are more nods to the twentieth century in its writing.  It is quirky at times, but very rhythmic.  The harmonic language is more varied than that of the first two movements.  It was given an admirable performance.

Before the concert, I felt it was rather soon to have another performance of Messiaen’s work, after Ensemble Liaison and Wilma Smith played it so memorably in the Wellington Town Hall less than six months ago (the concert was broadcast on RNZ Concert only about a week ago).  There was also a performance at the Adam Chamber Music Festival in Nelson in February last year.

However, these players were well up to the task.  Being in a smaller, more intimate space than was the October concert made the work sound less grand and monumental; on the whole I preferred the larger acoustic space.

Nevertheless, the themes of faith and spirit, and apocalypse as outlined by Simeon Broom in his introduction to the work, were amply conveyed.

The word ‘time’ has another meaning music – was this the end of time in music?  Messiaen’s modal, even plain-chant, continuous melody in much of the work has no obvious consistent time signatures, and a lack of apparent unity (see Peter Mechen’s review of the earlier concert, on this website: 29 October 2011) was somewhat overcome for me by hearing it a second time.

The character of the music is forecast in the titles of the eight movements, many of them coming from the last book of the Bible: Revelation.  Despite the lofty and dramatic themes there, this music begins with an ethereal opening of bird sounds, most notable in the high harmonic glissandi on the cello.  This first movement (Liturgy of crystal) is followed by crashingly apocalyptic sounds in the second movement (Vocalise for the angel who announces the end of time).  It moves into smooth piano and string chords seemingly arriving from profound depths, played with muted strings, before a return to the apocalypse.

The ‘Abyss of the birds’ third movement is for solo clarinet, and was originally written separately for the clarinettist the composer met at a temporary prison camp in France, before they were both transported to a Stalag at Görlitz in Germany, in 1942.  The quiet introduction is powerful in its muted simplicity.  Beautifully played, it nevertheless had less impact on me than the previous hearing, with its soloist standing on a large stage at the Wellington Town Hall.  The piece calls for a huge range of the clarinet’s notes and dynamics, all superbly rendered by Sarah Masters.

The ‘Interlude’ fourth movement is for violin, cello and clarinet.  A great array of techniques is called for; the music makes almost ecstatic pronouncements.

Movement five (In praise of the eternity of Jesus) is for cello and piano only.  A strong, serene melody on the cello has simple piano chords underpinning it.  The mood is of faith and fervour, and hope.   Again, the music depicts ecstasy and confidence, yet is sometimes poignant.  However, hope triumphs at the end.

The sixth movement (Furious dance for the seven trumpets) returns the full quartet, and is a complete contrast to what has preceded it.  Furious it may be, but it is not sheer noise.  It is played almost entirely in unison, generating a most unusual mysterious atmosphere and mood.

‘Tangle of rainbows for the angel who announces the end of time’ is the title of the seventh movement.  After a placid opening, there are violent discords, then a return to the placid mood.  The violin playing in this was very fine; beauty and simplicity characterised the music.  A renewal of chaos followed, and then there are birds, the music emerging to perhaps a preview of the end of time.

Finally, the contemplative last movement (In praise of the immortality of Jesus), for violin and piano only, is calm and peaceful in the violin part (marred by a few moments of poor tone and suspect intonation), supported by chords on the piano.

Altogether, it was a memorable concert, and the clarinet playing of Sarah Masters was particularly outstanding, but all the players acquitted themselves well, and gave first-class performances severally and together.

 

 

Secondary Students’ Choir, versatile and deeply impressive, prepares for tour to South Africa

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

New Zealand Secondary Students’ Choir in Concert directed by Andrew Withington

Sacred Heart Cathedral

Saturday, 14 April 1012, 7.30pm

Choral music seems to be on the up and up, not only here, but in other countries as well.  Any choir would be exceedingly proud to sing as well as this choir does; all the more surprising, because the members, from all parts of New Zealand, meet only in school holidays, and because every work (except the newly-commissioned one) was sung from memory. ‘Sung’ includes body percussion, actions, sign language and vocal sounds other than singing.

The choir is a two-year choir only; another reason for celebrating its continued excellent form and versatility.  At the climax of each two-year round, the choir travels overseas.  This year, it was to have been to Greece, for the International Society for Music Education conference.  That is presumably the reason for a new work being commissioned, to be sung in the Greek language, from John Psathas.

Sadly, as a result of the civil disturbances and the economic austerity measures there decreed by the European Union, this trip will not now take place.  At the end of the concert we were informed that a CD of the programme we heard will be made soon; perhaps that CD could be sent to Greece and played at the conference, as a poor second-best to having the choir live.  Instead, the choir will travel to a music festival in South Africa.

A generous 20-item programme greeted a near-full church.  Energy never seemed to flag, and the items were all sung well.  I counted 10 different languages employed; I’m sure this is a record in the annals of choral concerts I have attended – and they are many.  Each language sounded authentic and beautifully pronounced, including Icelandic, Swedish and Irish – not that I know these languages.  This level of proficiency takes hard work, but is ultimately only achieved through each singer making the vowels and the consonants in exactly the same way as the other singers; this also produces the clarity of words that marks this choir.

The opening was dramatic: with the church in darkness, the choir processed in, holding candles, while a single low note on the organ was echoed by quiet intoning from only the lowest and highest voices in the choir, in what sounded like Russian.

Then, with candles out and lights on, the familiar ‘Veni, veni Emmanuel’ was sung, beautifully balanced (as indeed was almost everything on the programme).  It became unfamiliar, in a wonderful arrangement by Zoltán Kodály, presumably in Hungarian.

Sixteenth-century composer Jacob Handl (not to be confused with G.F.) wrote mainly church music.  His ‘Resonet in Laudibus’ was one of the few familiar pieces on the programme.  Its splendid antiphonal effects and varied dynamics (double choir) were marked in the magnificent acoustic of Sacred Heart.

It was followed by one of the most well-known choral pieces ever written: ‘Hallelujah Chorus’ from Handel’s Messiah.  This was one of the least successful items.  Firstly, too much time was spent in the choir moving around into single choir format.  The basses, who shone in the first item, did not seem quite able to emulate the sound of an adult choir.  The organ accompaniment was rather mixed in style, and too much of the singing was at an unvarying double forte.  My note made at the time reads ‘they are certainly exploiting this acoustic’.  Nevertheless, it was a good performance.

Rossini’s ‘O Salutaris Hostia’ had the choir sounding like a much more mature group than the high school students they are.  The tone was rounded and beautifully warm; intonation was almost immaculate; as before, words were clear, and rhythm was spot-on.  No wonder this choir, or rather, its earlier manifestations, has won an impressive list of international prizes.  Here again, there were a few too many sustained double-fortes for this lively acoustic, and a few attacks were not quite together, or were not all on exactly the same note.  But this is carping.

Another good feature is that, without being stiff, the choir members stand still.  There is no obvious wriggling or wagging of heads.  And for all 61 singers to have memorised such a range of different music is astonishing.

Mendelssohn’s choral music is not as well-known as it should be, apart from Elijah.  The piece ‘Mitten wir im Leben sind’ was a lively example.  It was followed by ‘Geistliches Lied’ by Brahms, accompanied on the organ.  Beginning with a soprano solo, this was a quieter number, but built to a climax before dying away again.

Groups of items were introduced by various choir members and others; the announcement of the next piece was inaudible, despite the microphone, but having picked up ‘ovsky’ and perused the programme, I discovered it was ‘Rytmus’, by Ivan Hrušovský.  This very rapid contemporary piece was unaccompanied, like the majority of the pieces presented.  The Slovakian composer had certainly provided challenges, to which the choir was equal.  Pieces such as this would have benefited from brief programme notes.

Following a short interval, the choir presented the commissioned work from John Psathas: Nemesi, about the goddess Nemesis, who worked to maintain an equilibrium between good fortune and evil deeds.  Here, the choir used sheet music on stands, so that their hands were free for rhythmic clapping (both soft and loud, like that of Spanish flamenco musicians) and clicking fingers.  Other body percussion employed light foot-stamping, and non-voiced whispering sibilants and other mouth noises, while a small cymbal and a triangle were employed briefly.

A very effective piece, it made use of much chant-like singing and very spare writing.  Perhaps it relied a little too much on effect rather than choral technique; colours in sound rather than singing.  Alto and soprano soloists were splendid; this is a piece that could readily find a place in the repertoires of other choirs.  A partial standing ovation followed the performance, at which the composer was present.

Pieces by New Zealand composer Richard Oswin followed: ‘Sweet Sleep’, ‘Altered Days’, and three Gallipoli settings: ‘Gallipoli Peninsula’ (the poem by Alistair Te Ariki Campbell), ‘The last to leave’ and ‘The spirit of Anzac’.  The first featured lovely harmonies and sensitive treatment of the words, including some Maori words.  The next was sung with a New Zealand accent, and placed tricky parts against each other.  I liked the fact that it was characterised by a tone different from that used for Rossini or Mendelssohn, showing that the choir was able to vary how it sounded depending on the music and words in hand.

The first of the Gallipoli songs began with the ssh-ssh of  the sea coming in and going out on a beach.  The music eloquently illustrated the words.  The very touching poem was treated to lovely tone and a great bass sound.  Enunciation was so uniform that the words could readily be heard and understood.  The second song included some unison singing, which was very telling.  There was rich sound in the harmony sections.  The final song was a rollicking one – perhaps Gallipoli as the soldiers pretended it was as they were leaving, rather than how it really was?

After the second short interval, Paraire Tomoana’s ‘Toia Mai’ was presented, with guitar and many actions, and chanting from the men.  This and the following two items appeared to be sung without conductor.  The vigorous, full-throated tone from the men and the lively actions from the whole choir brought an enthusiastic response.

The altos and sopranos performed ‘Glettur’(by Stephen Hatfield, a Canadian composer), in Icelandic.  It involved them sitting or standing in groups, using appropriate actions and facial expressions as they apparently gossiped and ‘chatted’, with lots of rolled ‘r’s; the result was brilliant.

If plenty of verbal facility was needed for that piece, it was needed even more by the tenors and basses, especially the cantor; he had many tongue-twister words to sing, in the Irish ‘Dúlamán’ by Michael McGlynn.  It demonstrated a great dynamic range.

A Swedish song followed: ‘Glädjens blomster’, arranged by Hugo Alfvén (composer of the famous Swedish Rhapsody).  A short, attractive piece that opened with a passage of humming, it was very expressive.

Two French songs now; one by a Frenchman (sixteenth century but sounding very up-to-date), the other, ‘Dirait-on’, by an American, Morten Lauridsen.  The first, a very fast ‘La la la, je ne’lose dire’ that I was familiar with from a record of the King’s Singers.  This performance suffered nothing by comparison.

An arrangement by James Erb of the well-known ‘Shenandoah’ was accompanied on piano.  This was a very smooth and beautiful rendering, making something familiar sound fresh.  At the entry, the men were not quite on the same note, but elsewhere they were very fine.

A change of mood in the third of four American songs was an arrangement of Gershwin’s ‘S Wonderful’, with soloist Latafale Auva’A, who turned on the appropriate style and accent confidently, with great timing.  String bass and piano accompanied her; the audience loved it.

The next item, ‘Praise His Holy Name’ by Keith Hampton was lively, also with piano and bass, and had the choir animated throughout its repetitive phrases.  The final item involved plenty of clapping and actions, the choir moving around the church: the Samoan ‘Tofa Mai Feleni’.  It had a hymn-like quality, with shouting and shrilling at the end, and was sung in Samoan and English, with Samoan drum and sticks backing.

A standing ovation was rewarded with ‘Wairua Tapu’, accompanied by guitar, and with complex and varied actions, which a couple of friends suggested was actually New Zealand sign language – our third official language.

The choir is versatile; in a variety of genres it was equally successful. This is choral singing at its best.  One would be hard-pressed to find an adult choir in New Zealand as good as this, and certainly not one singing the entire repertoire (not counting the new work) from memory.

Congratulations and salutations, New Zealand Secondary Students’ Choir!  Enjoy South Africa – I am sure you will represent us well.

 

Two varied lunchtime concerts at St Andrew’s

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

1.  Mozart: Sonata for violin and piano in G major K.301
Fauré: Sonata for violin and piano in A major Op.13
Rupa Maitra (violin) and Kris Zuelicke (piano)

2.  Operatic arias, and lieder
Vocal Students of the New Zealand School of Music, accompanied by Mark Dorrell

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

Tuesday, 3 April 2012

Wednesday, 4 April 2012, 12.15pm

Perhaps it was an excess of riches, or simply that people are ‘programmed’ to attend a lunchtime concert at St. Andrew’s on a Wednesday, but not on another day.  Whatever the reason, the Tuesday concert was not well attended compared with that on Wednesday.

Mozart’s sonata begins in a sunny mood, with a jolly melody (which always makes me think of the Scottish song “Maxwelton braes”, otherwise known as “Annie Laurie”), alternately presented by piano and violin.  The second movement (there are only two) was also allegro, but quite different in metre and character.  The G minor middle section gave a pleasing contrast, with some passionate moments.

These two extremely competent musicians had it well under their fingers.  However, I found the violin tone sometimes a little harsh; the acoustic was partly responsible for this.  There was a brief lack of synchronisation in the closing moments, at the repeat of the opening section.

The second work, with which I was not familiar, was a more difficult and demanding one, besides being much longer.  The composer communicates many musical ideas, with an exuberant allegro first movement containing a great deal of variety.  I found the piano over-pedalled for my taste.  There were soaring phrases, especially for the violin, but intonation was not always spot on, and again I found the tone not always mellow.

The andante second movement was solemn, with some lovely moments, especially in the middle section.  The third movement, allegro vivo, was faster than the final one (allegro quasi presto).  It was jaunty in mood, on both instruments, with frequent pizzicato on the violin.  The slightly slower final movement featured beautiful smooth melodic lines, while the piano part was full of notes.  The ending was very busy for the violin, with chords on the piano.

Throughout, the piece was played in a musical and sensitive manner.

Wednesday’s concert involved a lot more people: seven singers, plus the imperturbable Mark Dorrell accompanying all of them.  Most of these singers I had not heard before, and wonder if they are first and second-year students; the programme did not tell us.

Nearly all the singers sang two arias, or an aria and a lied, separately in the programme, but here I will group each singer’s items together.

Robert Gray had the unenviable task of opening the programme.  His ‘O del mio dolce ardor’ from Gluck’s opera Paride ad Elena revealed his pleasing voice, and he conveyed the mood of this most attractive aria well.  However, his tone in top notes was not well supported, and intonation was suspect on lower notes.  He did not seem confident.

How differently he presented the Count’s aria from Mozart’s Le Nozze di Figaro!  The opening was strong, and the singer more confident now.  His Italian was enunciated very well, and the characterisation convincing  While Mozart’s forte passages for the orchestra, or piano in this case, do not coincide with the voice too often, nevertheless I found Dorrell’s piano a little loud for the singer in places, though wonderfully rhythmic and Mozartean.

Daniel Dew is a young tenor, who sang first ‘Every valley shall be exalted’, from Handel’s Messiah.  As the programme note said, the aria is full of word painting, and Dew’s clear voice and words made this amply obvious.  Runs were executed well, and there was good control on the high notes; elsewhere, the tone and expression were just a bit raw around the edges.  His second piece, ‘Wohin?’ from Schubert’s Die Schöne Müllerin was engagingly sung, but more tonal control was needed on the low notes.  Dew’s German was very good, and well enunciated.

Rossini’s famous aria, the ‘Willow Song’ from Otello was the choice of Rebekah Giesbers, a soprano.  She has a clear, pure voice with attractive tone.  The runs were not sufficiently agile, however, and there was insufficient variation in the performance.

Two lieder (‘Ständchen’ and ‘Lievesbotschaft’ from Schubert’s Schwanengesang) were chosen by Fredi Jones.  He has a light but very pleasant tenor voice.  At times I found the accompaniment a little too loud for his voice.  He evinced great breath control, and the mood of the second song particularly came over well.  Later in the programme he sang in very good French: ‘En fermant les yeux’ from Massenet’s Manon.  It was delightful singing, with expressive phrasing, but he could do with a little facial expression to help convey the story.

The latter characteristic was a strong one for Esther Leefe, soprano, who performed first ‘Batti batti’ from Don Giovanni by Mozart.  Her silvery voice was mostly accurate; the facial expression needed to be backed up with more vocal expression here.  Her second item was the lovely Samuel Barber song ‘Sure on this shining night’.  The sound was good, but I did not find that she really conveyed the song convincingly.

Angelique MacDonald did not sing the programmed Alban Berg song, but Mozart’s beautiful aria for Pamina, in The Magic Flute: ‘Ah, ich fühl’s’.  This was a very touching rendition, with plenty of dynamic variation.  The tone was a little harsh on the higher notes sometimes, when singing loudly.

In her second aria, a metallic tone seemed present in the middle range, while the top was secure and sweet, and the lower notes were fine.  This was in her very dramatic performance of ‘Regnava nel silenzio’ from Lucia di Lammermoor by Donizetti.  There were plenty of gestures and facial expression as well as a good range of dynamics in the voice; this aria suited her agile voice.  It was an accomplished performance.

Another soprano, Awhina Waimotu, followed, with a song by Respighi: Tempo assia lontani’.  This gave the impression of being quite difficult, for both singer and accompanist.  Despite a few insecurities for the singer, this was an impressive performance: a lovely expressive voice with warm tone, beautiful vowels, and a strong upper register.

This impression was confirmed in her second song, the enchanting Chanson triste of Henri Duparc.  After a slightly hesitant start, she gave a fine performance.  The French language was good, but the song needed slightly more subtle phrasing – however, that can come.  I have to confess to being very familiar with an old recording by Gérard Souzay, in which he lingers before the high note to give it extra emphasis, and varies the dynamics more than Waimotu did.  Otherwise, this was a splendid performance of this exquisite song.

Mark Dorrell deserved warm thanks for the huge amount of very accomplished playing he did.