A somewhat impromptu lunchtime recital proves a delight at St Andrew’s

Fleur Jackson (violin), Olivia Wilding (cello), Lucy Liu (viola), Ingrid Schoenfeld and Catherine Norton (piano)

Beethoven: Piano sonata in C minor, Op 30/2, movements I and 3
Schumann: Cello Concerto in A minor, Op 129 – arranged for cello and piano, movements 2 and 3
Bloch: Suite (1919) for viola and piano, movements 2, 3, 4

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday 9 November, 12:15 pm

Having left the reviewing duty unplanned, both Lindis Taylor and I found ourselves at this recital, mutually unaware of each other at the time; we decided to combine our impressions. Prizes (a free annual pass for the St Andrew’s lunchtime concerts in 2018) for successful identification of the origin of the various remarks.

This programme was arranged at short notice after the originally scheduled players withdrew. Three separate duos, it proved very engaging, even though each pair played only some of the three or more movements. In principle, one should regret that such truncations are made, as they distort in some way the composer’s original intention. In the circumstances however, and given how well each piece was played, it was an interesting and musically satisfying recital.

The first performers began Beethoven’s none-too-easy Allegro con brio first movement with excellent attack, beautifully integrated. The lively staccato character of the music seemed to belie its minor key; Ingrid Schoenfeld’s lively, ear-catching piano and the bright, buoyant sound of Fleur Jackson’s violin, spiced with well-placed emphases not only characterised the first movement, but continued without the calming Adagio cantabile of the second, to the third movement, Scherzo, which persisted in the spirit of the first, in a dancing spirit, full of optimism.

Schumann’s Cello Concerto doesn’t quite rank alongside those of Dvořák, or Elgar, even of Saint-Saëns or Haydn; but it’s a charming work. Being less familiar, there was not the same feeling of something major left out, in spite of the fact that there is no break between the three movements and in the way they simply merge, one into the next, lends the whole work a particular integrity. To start with the Langsam, second movement, worked very well, and the elimination of the orchestra didn’t seem at all barbaric.

Olivia Wilding and Catherine Norton were finely paired in the expressive opening; the cello has much double stopping while Norton’s piano was a model of subtlety and sensitivity; resulting in a very convincing feeling that Schumann might actually have written it as a sort of cello sonata. One can miss the scale and colour of an orchestra in such a reduction, but the music spoke for itself, uninhibitedly.

The success of the seamless transition from the second to the last movement might profitably have been a model for later concertos, except that it removes some of the crowd-pleasing drama from the conventional concerto structure. The challenges of the Sehr lebhaft finale did not daunt Olivia Wilding, brilliantly executing the lightning shifts from deep bass to high notes. It was a scintillating performance.

Ernest Bloch can often seem a very serious composer, but in the three movements of his Suite (in four movements) for viola and piano, he imagined the islands of Indonesia, which he never visited. They were full of interest, of light and shade. Lucy Liu and Catherine Norton began with the second movement, Allegro ironico, subtitled ‘Grotesques’. The enchanting opening phrases from both viola and piano might have been animals padding through the jungle.

The Lento third movement (‘Nocturne’), a pensive piece, revealed gorgeously rich tone from the muted viola, while it was rewarding to pay attention to the piano part that Norton handled with great sensitivity. The last movement, Molto vivo (‘Land of the Sun’), included some sequences influenced by Chinese music. Strong, confident playing left a Debussyesque feeling and the sense that the suite probably deserved a more prominent place in the viola repertoire. Both players were absolutely on top of the music, technically and interpretively.

It might have been a somewhat impromptu concert but between them the five players delivered an interesting, thoroughly enjoyable concert of works that one might dare call great.

Wellington’s professional chamber choir ends successful second year

Inspirare – a professional choral ensemble directed by Mark Stamper, with Tawa College’s chamber choir, Blue Notes, conducted by Isaac Stone

The Cycle of Life: Music by Kerry Marsh, David Childs, Gwyneth Walker, Daniel Elder, Rautavaara, Ben Parry, Morten Lauridsen, Matthew Harris, Stenhammar, William Finn, Jeffrey Derus, Sandra Milliken, Zachary Moore and Copland

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Sunday 5 November, 3 pm

Middle C attended and reviewed the inaugural concert by this professional chamber choir on 4 September 2016, and we reviewed their previous concert on 13 August this year.

Each of those concerts had a theme, and so did this one: The Cycle of Life using two of the immediate seasons: Winter and Spring – symbolising death and life, characterising the nature of those seasons from a North American perspective – probably the north-east where the seasons are very distinct.

Mark Stamper introduced the concert, and at once encountered an unfortunate difficulty: an unresponsive microphone; although he spoke more loudly, I wasn’t able to understand much of what he said, perhaps impaired as I was sitting in the gallery. That mattered as one relies on a certain amount of oral commentary because song lyrics were not provided in the printed programme which, in the circumstances, would have been useful. Otherwise, the stylish programme was evidence of the polished, professional character of the concert.

The concert followed the pattern established earlier, of involving a young choir to sing either on their own or as part of a larger ensemble. This time the associated choir was Tawa College’s Blue Notes, under Isaac Stone (who’s also a member of Inspirare).

The choir set itself a hurdle from the start by choosing the theme of Winter, symbolising Death, which prescribed music likely to be cold, elegiac, melancholy, though it was by no means always despairing in spirit. The second half restored the balance with Spring with its celebration of renewed life.

Blue Notes took its place at the beginning; they opened with an evocative piece, Justin Vernon’s Woods (arranged by Kerry Marsh, who seems to dominate the credits for the performing version). It’s based on a single motif, and starts with one, then two voices before additional vocal lines build to a dense ensemble engaging in the entire choir. A nice piece for a versatile college choir that could tap their likely predisposition for popular, genuine, thoughtfully sentimental music. It was a splendid demonstration of the choir’s talents, their dynamic control and engaging tonal synthesis.

Next was Peace, my Heart, by New Zealand composer, David Childs, now a prominent figure in the United States choral music scene. Blue Notes won a Silver Award at the 2017 Big Sing choral festival with Peace, my Heart. Calm, meditative, consoling, it called for a cello obbligato which, hinting momentarily at the Bach cello suites, was sympathetically played by choir member and all-round musician Benny Sneyd-Utting.

The college choir then retreated and the women of the adult choir took over (I failed to notice whether the girls from Blue Notes had remained to support the choral element, but on reflection, realised they must have), beginning with Gwyneth Walker’s In Autumn (a departure from the general theme of the concert). Though the poem was read by the conductor, it was not really a substitute for being able to read the words: songs are only partly the music, and it deprives the listener of an appreciation of the way the music reflects the sense of the poem. However, this first offering by Inspirare itself spoke emphatically of a choir comprising fine voices that had been scrupulously rehearsed. It opened with two soloists from the choir, soprano Inese Berzina and mezzo Linden Loader, from which the course of the song gradually intensified. Fiona McCabe’s rippling piano accompaniment lent it an unusual quality, supporting high lines created by the women.

The toughest work in the programme followed: Finnish composer Rautavaara’s Suite de Lorca, settings of four poems from various parts of Spanish poet Federico Garcia Lorca’s oeuvre. Mostly stark, bleak pieces that seem to presage the poet’s grisly death at the hands of Franco’s fascists. Capturing their character convincingly, in Spanish, (and it was particularly good to have the translated words on an insert) they began with the galloping ‘Canción del jinete’, addressing Cordoba, the destination that he will not reach (Lorca was actually killed near Granada). ‘El grito’ (the scream) perhaps a gloss on Munch’s famous painting, its fearfulness was followed, strangely, in the same key, by ‘La luna asoma’ (The Moon Rises), at once bright and chilling, punctuated by Pasquale Orchard’s mezzo voice rising high over it. There was no hint in the uneasy ‘Malagueña’, of a more familiar evocation of the Malaga to be found in Albeniz or Granados. (‘Death comes and goes from the tavern’). The choir’s fine command of the emotionally powerful poems and their unflinching settings was outstanding.

Ben Parry’s The Ground lies hard again reflected a bleak though changeable picture of a winter landscape. And Winter was finally summed up in a set of unforgivingly gritty Mid-winter Songs by Morton Lauridsen. Here, in particular, I felt the need of the words to make better sense of the music, for my earlier experience of Lauridsens’s compositions hardly prepared me for these five sharply contrasted, harmonically tortured songs. The skilful handling of their evidently challenging lines spoke again of an impressive level of vocal talent as well as polished ensemble and blending of voices.

The scene brightened with Spring, as Blue Notes opened the second half with Matthew Harris’s setting of It was a Lover and his Lass; clear and bright, breaking its uniformity with a startling modulation in the middle. Another Scandinavian gesture came with Stenhammar’s September, evidently sung in Swedish, here was a song that reminded one of its descent from the more familiar path of classical song from Schubert through Grieg and Wolf…

Benny Sneyd-Utting took to the piano to accompany I Feel so much Spring from a music theatre piece, A New Brain by William Finn. Though in a distinctly Broadway idiom, it was comprehensible in emotional terms, both verbally and musically, and was presented in a comfortable, idiomatic manner. This was the last song in which Blue Notes sang by themselves.

There were two songs by Jeffrey Derus. Afternoon on a Hill was listed as a premiere, but I came across it in a YouTube clip – to a poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay whose name was familiar from my student years. A harmonically dense, complex song, it nevertheless communicated a joy in open spaces, offering a fine demonstration of the choir’s versatility, tonal and dynamic flexibility.

The concert was dedicated to the memory of Evelyn Tuuta. She was one of the first people Stamper met in Wellington, and she gave him the words and tune, ‘Hutia te rito’. It was to become the basis for Stamper’s desire to bring the music of America and the Maori people together, with a special commission, a project that he discussed with American composer Zachary Moore.

Inspirare’s website records Stamper’s account of the piece’s origin:
For our Inaugural concert, we wanted to bring together the previous world of the conductor (America) with his new world in New Zealand. What better way to do that, than to have an American composer arrange a Maori tune and text for Inspirare. Zachary J, Moore was commissioned to use this tune, with the permission of Evelyn Tuuta’s iwi and the blessing of the Maori Language Commission of New Zealand. He utilised this tune, wrote a new one as well and then juxtaposed them into a wonderful setting for SATB, piano and percussion. The piece features several soloists, along with the rich harmonies of the ensemble. Hutia te rito has been published and is available for sale.

The welding together of the Maori element and these words helped shape Inspirare’s first concert, in 2016.

The title refers to the growing stem of harakeke (New Zealand flax), and a website gives the translation:

“Pull out the shoot,
Pull out the shoot of the flax bush
Where will the bellbird sing?
Say to me
What is the greatest thing?
What is the greatest thing in this world?
I will say
The people! The people! The people!”

As well as the choir, two solo voices contributed: Megan Corby and Isaac Stone; and Jacob Randall, James Fuller and Nathan Carter performed on drum, maracas and cymbal.

The result, the combination of music that was characteristic of both the Maori and American spirit lent the piece a particularly strong individuality: not setting out to demonstrate compositional sophistication or to formulate a complex philosophical statement, but to express a fundamental human truism, from which an elementary emotional quality emerged.

Derus’s other song, If I could give, was another commission by Inspirare whose website records remarks by the composer:
‘If I Could Give’ offers a simple message: “To live life to fullest, conquer yours dreams, and hold each treasured moment close”. Collaborating with my dear friend and poet, Courtney Prather, we created a work that is infused with adventure and the exploration of dreams. Mark Stamper, artistic director of Inspirare, and I chose to incorporate piano and cello with the remarkable sound of Inspirare to develop a piece that will end the concert. My musical concept was inspired by the idea of taking snapshots of a persons life by giving a distinctive motive for each stanza of text. I am honoured to collaborate with Mark and Courtney on “If I Could Give” and eagerly await its world premiere in November 2017.

The cellist was again Benny Sneyd-Utting, with Fiona McCabe’s piano accompaniment. A reflective tone, unpretentious and involving, gave the song an immediacy, in which a depth of emotion was an artless product of all the varied vocal colours and dynamics that the choir commands.

But it wasn’t the final piece. That was ‘The Promise of Living’ which ends Act I of Copland’s opera The Tender Land.  Though it was slow to make much of an impression after its 1950s premiere, its modest musical strengths have steadily taken root, particularly around the time of the Copland centenary in 2000.

The accompaniment was from the piano duet of Fiona McCabe and Rachel Thomson; Blue Notes choir returned and took their places intermingling with their older colleagues. Male voices here were particularly impressive and the duets, the larger ensembles and even individual voices translated very successfully for a relatively small choir though naturally, it hardly rendered the interaction between individuals who sing in the original score. The traditional end-of-act-one finale built steadily to, perhaps not a Rossini climax but a very satisfying end that is likely to have encouraged audience members to explore the opera.

Apart from the emergence of an enterprising professional choir in the city, Mark Stamper’s efforts also bring to our attention several unfamiliar (to me at least) United States composers, and the existence of a strong choral tradition that is producing a great deal of surprisingly challenging, but also approachable, attractive music in his country.

 

Jonathan Berkahn and friends with formal and informal music for lunchtime

Town and Country: folk tunes plain and fancy

Items by Hummel, Dussek, Lyons, O’Carolan, Matteis, Alexander, Brahms, O’Brien, Wells, Griffiths and Berkahn

Jonathan Berkahn and friends

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday, 1 November 2017, 12.15pm

This programme replaced that originally scheduled at short notice, due to illness.  The pieces were mainly Scots, Irish and English, or were based on songs from those nationalities.  The latter were infrequently heard examples of their composers’ works.  Jonathan Berkahn gave a brief spoken introduction to each of the items.

It began with Berkahn playing piano, first in Thème Anglais “The Plough Boy” varié, Op.110/1 by Hummel.  This delightful variation on a well-known English folk song received a very effective performance, but it was at times over-pedalled, reducing its clarity.  It was given excellent dynamic variation.

Turning to the piano accordion, Berkahn then played in folk style the self-same traditional English song, along with two others: Hesleyside Reel and Morpeth Rant.

The composer Dussek was next, with A favourite song, arranged as a Rondo.  The song turned out to be “Oh dear, what can the matter be?  Johnny’s so long at the fair”.  It was a charming piano piece, one of a number of songs of the British Isles arranged by the composer for various instruments.  It made another addition to an interesting collection of unusual music.

Then a couple of Irish pieces; “Miss Hamilton” by Cornelius Lyons (c.1670-1812) and “O’Carolan’s Concerto” by Turlough O’Carolan (1670-1738).  Both these pieces were originally written for harp.  The first had a very song-like melody, while the second was more folksy.

Berkahn showed his versatility by playing “Ground after the Scotch Humour” by Nicola Matteis, a Neapolitan composer (fl.c.1670-after 1713), on the treble recorder, with Bernard Wells playing piano.  However, the latter was too loud for the gentle recorder tones.  Since the piece consisted of repetitions of the ground, it became rather tedious when the upper part could not always be heard clearly. There followed two traditional Irish songs, the second played by Berkahn on the tin whistle; they were succeeded by attractive arrangements of them for piano, made by Arthur Alexander in 1929.

Onto the big name: Brahms.  From his piano sonata no.1, Op.1 (with which I was not familiar) the Andante (Nach einem altdetschen Minnelied), based on a song (probably not a minnelied according to Berkahn) for which both German and English words were printed in the programme.  A simple movement, it was pleasant – and soporific!

A modern French piece “Crested Inns” and an Irish item by Paddy O’Brien “Poor but happy at 53” (if I heard correctly; these two were not detailed in the programme) were short and pleasing, but repetitive, folksy pieces.  Bernard Wells played flute with Berkahn’s piano.

The concert ended with three short polkas, by Bernard Wells, Emily Griffiths and Jonathan Berkahn.  The flute and piano accordion were joined by an unnamed folk fiddler for these jolly last pieces.

 

 

Imposing commemoration of 500th anniversary of Lutheran Reformation

Reformation: A Lutheran vespers service

Cantata Vespers by J S Bach

The Chiesa Ensemble (chamber ensemble of NZSO players)
Vocal soloists: Anna Sedcole – soprano, Rebecca Woodmore – alto, John Beaglehole – tenor, David Morriss – bass
Organ: Rick Erickson; harpsichord: Michael Stewart
The choir of Wellington Cathedral of Saint Paul, directed by Rick Erickson

Violin Concerto in E, BWV 1042 (solo violin: Anna van der Zee)
Cantata: ‘Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott’, BWV 80
Motet: ‘Der Geisthilft unser Schwachheit auf’, BWV 226

Wellington Cathedral of Saint Paul

Sunday 29 October, 5 pm

This was an ecumenical service, celebrating the 500th anniversary of the beginning of the Protestant Reformation, led by Bishop Mark Whitfield of the Lutheran Church of New Zealand, in the Anglican Cathedral, with choral support from the Cathedral choir. Earlier in the year, there was a commemorative service that involved the Roman Catholic Church at the Cathedral of the Sacred Heart, jointly hosted by Cardinal John Dew and Bishop Whitfield.

Ordinarily, such religious events would not attract the attention of the classical music reviewing industry. But all the important branches of the Christian church have paid attention to music and have been extremely important contributors to the composition and performance of music. In fact the music used by the early church survived, in the first few centuries mainly by oral tradition, and after the invention of notation, in manuscript records of plain chant and soon, of polyphony. The increasing sophistication of music through the late Middle Ages and the Renaissance was almost entirely thanks to the church in (almost) all of its persuasions.

So it was probably no accident that Martin Luther who was one of many who sought to reform the character of Christianity, and the most significant one, breaking from the Catholic church, was an excellent musician who knew that his message would be most successfully disseminated with the help of music.  (We were reminded that the Church of England is not, strictly, a Protestant church, since its separation from Rome by King Henry VIII was almost entirely a matter of a break with Papal authority and the appropriation of the assets of religious houses, but not a matter of immediate or important doctrinal change).

And it was especially appropriate to mark this anniversary with the music of J S Bach who, as well as being perhaps the greatest composer in the western musical tradition, was certainly the greatest composer of religious music (ahem, careful! – Victoria, Palestrina?), most of which was for use in the Lutheran church.

So the service began with a ‘Prelude’, comprising the first two movements of Bach’s Violin Concerto in E, with Anna van der Zee as solo violinist. Its performance in the great reverberant space of the cathedral invested it with a particular spiritual dimension, where the virtually vibrato-less playing was given a human touch through its tonal undulations. It was a good idea to have the other two violinists and the violist standing, a gesture that seemed to draw attention to the chamber music-like performance. The second movement offered the opportunity to draw further attention to the beauties of the music and to the subtle effects produced by varying the weight of bowing during sustained notes.

It was followed by Rick Erickson’s performance of the chorale prelude, Ein feste Burg, on the digital organ (given the unavailability of the main cathedral organ): not too conspicuously different in terms of tonal quality, but not so capable of grand, imposing climactic moments; though perhaps less important given the amount of quite elaborate decoration with which it was clothed.

There followed a variety of Lutheran hymns of the 16th and 17th centuries and one based on a 3rd century Greek chant.

The next piece by Bach was his motet Der Geist hilft unser Schwachheit auf, which is the second of the six motets listed in the BWV, Bach catalogue. Much less familiar than Singet dem Herrn; Komm, Jesu, komm or Jesu, meine Freude, the performance was distinctive through the preponderance of high voices that were, naturally enough, especially striking in the acoustic. On the other hand, that meant that words (in the German of course) were not clearly articulated.

A setting of the Magnificat by the 16th century Italian composer Giovanni Giacomo Gastoldi preceded the next Bach work, the complete cantata, ‘Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott’, BWV 80: no doubt the performance that was central to the entire Vespers service. It opened with the choral setting of the first verse, after which the four soloists took turns in the sequence of arias and recitatives. Beginning with the deeply impressive performance of ‘Alles, was von Gott geboren’ from bass David Morriss and soprano Anna Sedcole: his warmly illuminated, hers decorated ethereally, with a lovely cello obbligato.

The choral verse, featuring the familiar choral section, accompanied by trumpets and timpani, had the effect of anchoring the whole performance. Then tenor John Beaglehole’s recitative ‘So stehe dann bei Christi blutgefärbten Fahne’: much high lying, yet confident and accurate, and he was joined by alto Rebecca Woodmore in a lovely aria with the accompaniment of oboe(s), sounding deep and rich enough to be an oboe d’amore; her voice was splendidly firm and well placed.

Finally, the Offering was passed during the orchestra’s playing the last movement of the concerto, always a deeply felt yet high spirited piece.

The occasion no doubt proved an interesting and moving occasion for believers in the congregation, while the range of music, and not merely the Bach, offered a chance for all to gain an understanding of the musical context of the Lutheran Reformation.

Outstanding concert to mark disasters at Aberfan and the Pike River: music by Schubert and Karl Jenkins

Wellington Youth Orchestra conducted by Simon Brew and Jonathan Griffith

Massed adult choir, children’s choir and screen projections
Solo voices: Jenny Wollerman (soprano) and James Clayton (baritone)
Solo instrumentalists: Ingrid Bauer (harp), Monique Lapins (violin), Buzz Newton (euphonium), Lavinnia Rae (cello)

Schubert: Symphony No 8 in B minor, ‘Unfinished’
Karl Jenkins
: the Benedictus from The Armed Man and Cantata Memoria for the children of Aberfan

Michael Fowler Centre

Monday (Labour Day) 23 October. 2 pm

Concerts by the Wellington Youth Orchestra in the past, in my experience, have been poorly promoted and have played to an audience numbering just a few score.

This one was very different. Hand-bills had been thrust into the hand at most concerts in the previous fortnight and there were interviews on radio and in the press drawing attention to the tragedies that the orchestra had decided to commemorate.

The concert came about through the conjunction of separate elements. Last year a concert in New York had performed a cantata by Karl Jenkins commissioned by, among others, a Welsh Television channel, to mark the 50th anniversary of the Aberfan disaster.

The result was Jenkins’s Cantata Memoria: for the children of Aberfan. It was performed by United States conductor Jonathan Griffith, the conductor of Distinguished Concerts International New York. Among the performers there was Wellington resident Wim Oosterhoff who conceived the idea of bringing the work to New Zealand. The project was a formidable one; Oosterhoff persuaded Griffith to come to Wellington to conduct the Wellington Youth Orchestra and a 300-strong choir that included 60 children, arrayed behind the orchestra.

It was to combine the work in memory of Aberfan, Cantata Memoria, with music to mark the Pike River disaster seven years ago: a movement, the Benedictus, from Jenkins’s choral work, The Armed Man, a mass for Peace (which had been written to mark the advent of the new millennium in 2000).

The Unfinished Symphony
The concert began however, with Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony, chosen no doubt because of its focus on a work that the composer left incomplete; a composer whose life too was incomplete: it is hard to think of a composer, even among the many who have died young, of such genius that he would probably have produced the greatest music written since Beethoven, having already come close to that point when he died.

The symphony was conducted by the orchestra’s permanent conductor Simon Brew who had also rehearsed the Aberfan oratorio and the piece from The Armed Man.  It was a fine performance of the Schubert, one that could well have come from a totally professional orchestra, such was the remarkable elegance and pathos of the conception. And there was strikingly beautiful playing by violins, then cellos, horns, choruses of majestic trombones and each woodwind section in turn. The contrast in spirit between the sombre opening and the more sanguine Andante con moto second movement, marked a performance of real sophistication.

Benedictus for Pike River
Jonathan Griffith took over after the interval with the Benedictus from The Armed Man, employed sympathetically to commemorate the Pike River disaster. It is dominated by one of Jenkins’s most gorgeous creations, the solo cello episode which was played exquisitely by Lavinnia Rae; lovely children’s voices. The massive attack by brass and percussion towards the end had the required shock impact.

Curiously, unlike a reference in the Aberfan work later, no context was found to refer to the culpability of the Pike River mine owners whose guilt and prosecution seems quietly to have been forgotten.

The Cantata Memoria for Aberfan 
The Cantata Memoria was strikingly accompanied by images projected on a large screen behind the performers, and they were successfully related to the subject of the relevant passages. Rain rippled down a window to the delicate accompaniment of Ingrid Bauer’s harp; there were landscape scenes from the air which seemed to be a mixture of New Zealand and Wales.

The two soloists, James Clayton and Jenny Wollerman delivered important and moving passages; after the baritone’s grief-laden lament, the children’s choir (impressively, they sang their parts without the score) turned to face a photo of Aberfan engulfed by the collapsed mountain of mine tailings.

As choir members chanted the names of the victims of the catastrophe which were also projected on the screen one by one, with a pointed reference to a culpable National Coal Board (what about the private owners of the coal mines?). Later the euphonium, played by Buzz Newton, accompanied Clayton, in a telling sonic association, and the euphonium had several significant later episodes. Elsewhere, Monique Lapins’ violin led the emotional journey, along with the children’s choirs repeating the Agnus Dei, with Wollerman and Clayton repeating some of the most powerful words from the Latin Mass, ‘qui tollis peccata mundi’.

Then the Lacrymosa from the Requiem Mass, was accompanied alternately and impressively by euphonium and James Clayton’s voice, though the impact to my ears was not especially grief-laden.

Jenny Wollerman’s major part in the performance arrived with the bright, consoling words, ‘Did I hear a bird?’, the orchestra accompanying onomatopoeically as swans flew across the screen and that spirit was sustained as the two solo singers shared the singing of a Welsh folk song in a calm, reflective manner.

In a school playground, as children played hot-scotch and other games, harpist Ingrid Bauer accompanied, tapping the wood sounding board of her harp.

The concert attracted a good-sized audience, probably among the biggest I can recall for a WYO concert, and a standing ovation greeted the highly impressive performances by adult and children’s choirs, the Wellington Youth Orchestra, special involvement by singers Jenny Wollerman and James Clayton and by instrumentalists Ingrid Bauer, Monique Lapins, Buzz Newton and Lavinnia Rae; plus the thorough preparation and leadership by Simon Brew and Jonathan Griffith.

 

Wonderful Mozart trio for clarinet, viola and piano (plus Schumann and Bruch) from Karori Classics series

Karori Classics: Rachel Vernon, clarinet, Christiaan van der Zee, viola and Rachel Thomson, piano

Mozart: Trio for clarinet, viola and piano in E flat, K. 498 (‘Kegelstatt’)
Schumann: Märchen Erzählungen, Op 132 
Bruch: Eight Pieces, Op 83 – Nos 5 & 6

St. Mary’s Church, Karori

Friday 20 October, 7 pm

The fall-out from the International Viola Congress a few weeks ago seems to be continuing relentlessly. One Wednesday, viola students and a month ago the same violist as appeared this evening, at the previous Karori Classics concert.

They turned the programme round, starting with the two pieces from Bruch’s Eight Pieces for the instruments gathered at St Mary’s this evening. What we heard here was probably the complete works for clarinet, viola and piano, an extraordinary situation considering the great and beautiful piece that Mozart had written 240 years ago that you would have expected to have inspired scores of scores.

When I asked Christian van der Zee after the concert whether he hankered for the chance to play all eight of Bruch’s pieces, he looked bemused, rather suggesting that even though they are fairly inoffensive little creations, a couple of them, disposed of without ado at the beginning, was all that might be tolerated before sending the audience to sleep. Many people claim to find Bruch a yawn-provoking composer; Isabella Faust recently commented dismissively about his first violin concerto.

No 5 is described as a Romanian melody, beginning with a slow viola theme over rolling piano chords, soon joined by the clarinet. No 6 is also slow, another Andante piece, nocturnal, fluid in feeling. Two of the eight certainly made an attractive opening to the recital, and served to demonstrate the close rapport between the three orchestral musicians, used to listening attentively to each other.

All four of Schumann’s Märchen Erzählungen followed and even a devoted lover of most of Schumann’s music found these pleasant rather than enchanting; his melody gift hadn’t altogether deserted him at the wretched end of his life, but they were agreeable rather than memorably individual. The second is a march in a singularly unmilitary vein, which changes rhythmically after a little while almost becoming a slow dance, and the third is a slow piece in triple time in which the three instruments blend most successfully. The last piece is buoyant and lively, sounding more characteristically Schumannisch than the previous movements, recalling the sort of spirit found in the Kinderszenen, though that comparison might be a bit cruel.

I suppose most of us were waiting for the Mozart, which is where this instrumental combination first appeared. As I am often inclined to do, I recall vividly my first hearing of it, as I was browsing the LPs in Kirk’s record department, one lunchtime, probably in the 1970s. The music was playing and I was just transfixed; I bought the record and still have it.

It’s a fairly short, compact work, each movements not much more than five minutes and you are left wishing that Mozart had continued to elaborate and do repeats. This performance allowed it to breathe, with slightly prolonged phrases, little rallentandos, that made the enchanting first theme simply rapturous. There were nice dynamic contrasts, as from the quiet opening of the Menuetto, that was followed by a slightly bolder repeat, happy impressions of the legato clarinet and fast fluent scale passages from the viola.

Though the last movement is the longest, and we get repetitions of the marvellous spirit-raising melodies; if there were moments that suggested that rehearsals had been a bit limited, after the more prolonged Allegretto movement that seemed ready to go on for ever, I was, as always, left longing for the whole thing to be played again.

The Karori Classics concerts are driven by several players from the NZSO, importantly, I think, by violist Christiaan van der Zee and violinist Anna van der Zee; here, of course, they were represented by orchestral pianist Rachel Thomson and clarinettist Rachel Vernon. The Karori Anglican and Uniting churches (St Mary’s and St Ninians), support the concerts and they benefit the Wellington Samaritans.

Viola Students from the New Zealand School of Music with diverting sampler of well-played pieces

Viola pieces by Bach, Hoffmeister, Hindemith, Anthony Ritchie, Schumann and Rebecca Clarke

Violists: Debbie King, Georgia Steel, Grant Baker
Pianists: Catherine Norton, Matt Owen

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday 18 October, 12:15 pm

Three violists and two pianists put this lunchtime programme together. Such student presentations always reveal music that one has never come across before, and the discoveries here – not the composers’ names, which one had a casual knowledge of – were of the pieces of music. A viola concerto by Anton Hoffmeister, a contemporary of Mozart, a character piece by Schumann, viola sonatas by Anthony Ritchie, Hindemith and Rebecca Clarke (all of which one should probably have known; none was played at the recent International Viola Congress in Wellington).

But it began with the Bach’s third cello suite, in C. Although one has become somewhat accustomed to other instruments purloining these great suites, the original version seems to become ever more deeply embedded in one’s consciousness, with the result that the cello’s nearest relative sounded – to me – just a little inauthentic. The intonation was good, but perhaps a certain lack of flexible articulation and bowing that was not quite as flawless as it might have been, detracted slightly. Debbie King chose the three fastest movements and managed pretty well, though the pair of Bourrées were more relaxed than the Gigue which might have been more engaging at a slower pace.

Georgia Steel, with Catherine Norton, chose to play the second and third movements from Franz Anton Hoffmeister viola concerto in D (another, in B flat also appears in the archive). A plaintive Adagio, with ornaments still in need of a bit more refinement, and the Rondo finale which was certainly of the Mozart generation without the beguiling charm and inspiration. However, the pair had absorbed the genuine idiom and made one conscious of a composer well worth watching out for.

Perhaps the most formidable of the pieces was Hindemith’s solo sonata, Op 25 No 1, of which Grant Baker played movements I, II and IV. The first, labelled Breit, ‘Broadly’, is unrelentingly severe, though it becomes more varied after a couple of minutes, evidently running without a pause into the second movement, ‘Very lively and strict’. It’s the fourth movement that is the show-piece, translated: ‘Furiously fast. Wild. Tonal beauty is secondary’; and Grant Baker did well.

Anthony Ritchie’s steadily growing corpus has become very imposing with music for a very wide range of instruments, genres and purposes. Here was Debbie King again, with pianist (I assume, Matt Oliver, though neither violist nor pianist was named). The piece was the Allegro tempestuoso (first movement) from the ‘Viola Concerto’, though the note explained that we were to hear Ritchie’s rewrite of the original concerto as a sonata for viola and piano. Ritchie’s music is always both interesting and approachable, as well as idiomatically composed to suit the intended performers. Debbie clearly found the music congenial as well as being in tune with the piano part; and the listener too found this a very engaging piece which strongly invited one to hear the other three movements.

Next came another first movement – ‘Nicht schnell’, from Schumann’s Märchenbilder (Op 113). Schumann didn’t invite the listener to try to conjure specific images to his fairytale pictures and nothing presented itself to my imagination. But Georgia Steel and Catherine Norton, again, fell easily into the spirit of these pieces written late in Schumann’s life when mental disabilities were starting to emerge. The brilliant inspiration of the pre-1840 piano works was gone gone.

Finally Grant Baker, with Catherine Norton played part of the viola sonata by British composer/violist Rebecca Clarke. I’d heard its first two movements at a St Andrew’s lunchtime concert back in 2010. Now we heard the third movement (Adagio – Allegro). It’s an attractive work, very much of its era, though not under the influence of atonality or undue abrasiveness. The piano part is as interesting as the viola’s, and Norton played with all her usual finesse and intuition. And the viola writing was far from routine; opening with a longish Adagio that subtly becomes more spirited and inventive.

As well as being an always rewarding impression of the nature of today’s student talent, this was a very interesting glimpse of the wide variety of diverting music for the viola.

Wilma Smith and Friends play fine programme for Wellington Chamber Music

Wilma Smith (violin), Caroline Henbest (viola), Alexandra Partridge (cello), Andrew Leathwick (piano)

Piano quartets: William Walton’s in D minor; Andrew Leathwick’s No 1 and Brahms’s No 3 in C minor, Op 60

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Sunday 15 October, 3 pm

We reviewed Wilma Smith and Friends at their Waikanae concert on 24 September. There they had played Beethoven’s not-much-played Op 16 piano quartet, Dvořák’s greatly loved Op 87 as well as the piano quartet by the group’s pianist, Leathwick.  I suppose I can wait till next August when I see that Wellington Chamber Music’s just announced 2018 Sunday series will hear the Dvořák played by the Leppänen, Thomson, Joyce, Irons quartet.

Wilma’s three colleagues, two of whom are New Zealanders, all have an association with the Australian National Academy of Music, in Canberra, while Wilma herself teaches at the two principal Melbourne universities.

This Wellington programme avoided playing anything too well-known: Brahms’s 3rd piano quartet is the least familiar of the three. Played here with such finesse and musicality that its relative neglect became hard to understand.

Walton’s 16-year-old creation
However, the concert began with a, to me, totally unknown quartet, by a 16-year-old William Walton. Though it might not display the brilliance and musical delights that Mendelssohn or Mozart were producing at that age, this was a very impressive achievement, even allowing for its getting revised much later in the composer’s life (when he was 72).

It was written in the last year of WWI and so might have reflected the Englishness of Bax or Ireland or Vaughan Williams, even Elgar. All I could say is that the music had a generalised English, as distinct from a Continental feel, and Herbert Howells’s own piano quartet has been offered as a possible influence. Would Walton have heard Bartók in 1918? something at the start of the last movement suggested it. It was too soon for the iconoclastic Walton of the Bloomsbury years to be audible anywhere, but there could have been touches of Ravel, for there was much in it of a surprising sophistication.

It began with a clear conception of certain melodic ideas that seemed authentic rather than arbitrary, and an understanding of the art of building music in a formal shape. It was indeed formal in having four movements –  a bright, positive opening, a scherzo that seemed singularly assured, then a calm Adagio in a nocturnal mood, with muted strings, and finally an energetic Allegro that might have attempted to emulate the radical composers of the Continent, even certain rhythmic elements from Eastern Europe (do I mean Bartók?though what was known of him in England in the First World War?).

Writing for the quartet as a whole was quite mature, and it was clear that the young composer had a refined appreciation of the characteristics of each instrument – a solo viola passage caught the ear. Music from the first movement returned in a natural-sounding was to bring it to an end.

Andrew Leathwick’s quartet
A quartet by the group’s pianist Andrew Leathwick, followed. He introduced it, but in rather too casual a way, without sufficient care for enunciation and for the rhythms of his speech to be easily followed. The music largely explained itself – an opening that was almost secretive, improvisatory, slowly awakening with long phrases carried high on the violin strings. The second movement, entitled ‘Freely’, began with muted violin and cautious piano notes and signs that the composer became aware of the need to retain the listener’s attention with an almost Dvořákian melody. The composer seemed sensitive to the particular character of each instrument, subtly varying colours and dynamics; the viola carried a vaguely familiar elegiac tune which I couldn’t attribute. The composer recorded that ‘the great Romantic composers’ had inspired the last movement – Con moto. Those influences were clear enough. The whole piece, written in an idiom (idioms?) of earlier music made me aware of the styles of music that music students now feel free to write, far removed from the strenuously avant-garde, ‘original-at-all-costs’, audience-alienating music that I used to subject myself to in my early years reviewing for The Evening Post in the late 80s and 90s.

The style adopted in this piece is now accepted in a more open and tolerant musical environment in music schools, though one naturally hopes that it will not discourage a freedom to explore more adventurous approaches that make judicious use of influences from the music of the recent past.

Rosemary Collier’s review of this piece will be found in the review of 24 September.

Brahms’s Piano Quartet No 3
The last piece was Brahms’s Piano Quartet No 3, Op 60.  As I noted above it’s not as well-known as the Op 25 quartet, or perhaps even as the second one. But here was a performance that did it credit. It launches itself in a distinctly C minor manner, commanding, weighty and serious minded, rather than seductive, first in the Adagio opening and then the Allegro non troppo main part. But it’s exactly what a paid-up Brahms-lover looks for; not what the censorious Schoenberg who orchestrated the Op 25 piece because he thought it too dense for chamber music, would have enjoyed at all.

For it is indeed almost symphonic in its textures although the quartet produced all the clarity that I needed. Though the second movement is more animated, it dwells in a similar  sound world, darkly impassioned, with energetic piano writing that Leathwick handled, though the piano lid was on the long stick, in excellent accord with the strings.

The third movement, Andante, opens with a soulful, though sanguine duet between piano and cello which offered Alexandra Partridge (and again the pianist) an admirable opportunity to be enjoyed. And the finale too confirmed that impression left from all that had gone before of a carefully studied approach in which the essence of Brahms had become thoroughly embedded. Rapport between strings and piano was always perfectly integrated in terms of balance and interpretive view.

It ended a very satisfying chamber music recital, offering a sound reason to take comfort in a cultural relationship with Australia.

 

 

Excellent NZSO concert – Berlioz, Elgar and Tchaikovsky – draws disappointing audience

Travels in Italy

Berlioz: Harold in Italy
Elgar: In the South (‘Alassio’)
Tchaikovsky: Francesca da Rimini (Symphonic fantasia after Dante)

New Zealand Symphony Orchestra, conducted by James Judd, with Antoine Tamestit (viola)

Michael Fowler Centre

Friday, 6 October 2017, 6.30pm

Here was a stirring programme, the items linked by their composers’ inspirations from Italy.  It happens that these three were all superb orchestrators; the works all exploited the orchestra fully.

We have had both Berlioz and Elgar already this year in NZSO programmes; no shame in that.  James Judd was noted for his Elgar performances when he was Music Director of the NZSO – one of the eminent composers of his homeland, just as after him, Finnish conductor Pietari Inkinen programmed much music of his homeland’s most famous composer, Sibelius.

Berlioz treats the theme of Harold (aka Childe Harold in Byron’s long narrative poem Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage) in four different scenes, or movements, and so our eminent viola soloist also travelled, performing from different parts of the stage, not only from the front, which added interest.  Some commentators have seen the work as semi-autobiographical.  It is neither symphony nor concerto, but has elements of both.  Berlioz had recent experience of living in Italy, as winner of the Prix de Rome.

The opening of the work is quite spooky, a portentous wind solo playing against repetitive strings in a minor key, then the soloist played the main theme, standing behind the second violins.  During the movement he began his travels by moving forward to the usual position, on the conductor’s left  It was inspiring to hear the lovely tone of Tamestit’s viola, a Stradivarius from 1672.  One of the movement’s highlights was hearing the harp passages beautifully played, as a counterpoint to the brilliance of the viola solo.  The latter played variations on the main theme, all performed with flair and gesture, but without any element of technical display for its own sake.

The movement, titled “Adagio: Harold in the mountains.  Scenes of melancholy, happiness and joy”, built up feverishly and dramatically, reminding one that it was Paganini who requested Berlioz to write a work, that turned out be this one.  Snatches of brief phrases were tossed around the woodwinds, then things went almost berserk at the end of this movement, and the soloist retreated to the rear of the second violins.

The second movement is marked “Allegretto: March of the pilgrims singing the evening prayer”.  The whole orchestra plays the main theme; this is repeated with muted upper strings, while the cellos and basses play pizzicato and the woodwinds intone a single note.  There is an atmosphere of timorous expectation (rather spoilt by the amount of audience coughing).  A bell tolls as the procession fades away.

“Allegro assai: Serenade of an Abruzzi mountain dweller to his mistress” is the description of the third movement.  There is a splendid cor anglais solo.  Horns rumble away on the main theme; a dance tune is played by the woodwinds, accompanied by violas.  The soloist plays throughout, weaving in and out of the orchestral textures.  All is understated, and muted in the last phrases.

The solo viola has less to play in the final movement, which is “Allegro Frenetico: Orgy of brigands.  Memories of scenes past.”  Tamestit strode to the rear of the basses and played from there.  We heard rambunctious chords from the orchestra, with plenty of brass and percussion interjections.  The master orchestrator maintained the work’s interest throughout.  Violins were frenetic.  After some more quiet playing from the soloist, then Wham! Bang!  The end.

In response to prolonged enthusiastic applause, Tamestit returned to the platform and played an encore by Hindemith: a movement from one of his viola sonatas – a phenomenally fast and furious little piece of perpetuum mobile.

The remaining two works were each half as long as the Berlioz one, which had acted as both symphony and concerto.  In the South is one of Elgar’s inspired shorter orchestral works.  It, too, involves a solo viola, but in this case it was not the distinguished soloist from the Berlioz who performed, but an unfamiliar face, who took over the principal’s chair from Julia Joyce for this item.  A knowledgeable young violist sitting near me informed us that the principal was soon to take maternity leave, so we assumed that the excellent unknown violist was to fill in for her.  He gave a a fine and beautiful performance of the folk-song solo – slow and dreamy.  Perhaps this could be the southern Italy siesta?

The very spirited opening section soon led to quiet playing, the strings using mutes, and the woodwinds playing meditative music.  Some of the Elgar pomposity appears here and there, but this is a characterful work, partly gentle in character, though in the middle of the work there is a grand slow march; as the programme note said “… the texture of the music rapidly transforms between  expressive grandeur and secretive meditations.” Then brass and percussion come to the fore.  There was much light and shade in the music, and a great build-up to the climax.

Tchaikovsky’s theme was much more sombre, inspired by the tragic story of Francesca di Rimini from Dante’s Inferno.  Here was another portentous opening, cellos vying with woodwind for the honours in presenting the dramatic themes.  The violins then took over issuing the challenges.  When the brass broke in, we had the full drama.  The storm raged, to be followed by a sublime clarinet solo.  Muted strings featured in this work too, with a large, sweeping unison melody.  Flutes came to the fore, sounding like a flight of birds.

The work continued with many and varied orchestral colours and dynamics.  Oboe and flute had a conversation; the horn joined in, followed by the big unison theme again.  As the programme note said: “…Tchaikovsky at his most romantically lyrical.”  It was so dramatic one could almost see the stage or screen action – stirring stuff indeed, and all extremely well performed.

It was disappointing to see many empty seats in the Michael Fowler Centre, given it was such an interesting programme.  Perhaps for many people 6.30pm is not a favoured hour for a concert.  Nevertheless for those present, it was an early evening of outstanding music, stunningly well played.

 

A fine solo cello recital at St Andrew’s lunchtime concert

Inbal Megiddo, solo cello recital

Bach: Cello Suite no.2 in D minor, BWV 1008
Pigovat: Nigun
Hans Bottermund and Janos Starker: Paganini Variations

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday, 4 October 2017, 12.15 pm

A good-sized audience heard a memorable recital of advanced cello music in a varied repertoire.

Inbal Megiddo is an extremely accomplished cellist, who teaches the instrument at the New Zealand School of Music, and plays in the Te Koki Trio.

It was a pity that the programme notes gave no information about the works performed, because her spoken introductions were far too quiet to be heard in much of the church; even after Marjan van Waardenberg gave the musician a microphone, because it was held too far from her face.

The Bach was played absolutely splendidly, with lots of light and shade.  Strong fortissimos, pianissimos that were never weak but intense, subtlety of phrasing and very resonant playing throughout the dynamic range were all superb features.

However, it was a pity not to have the titles of the movements of the Suite printed in the programme; Google had to come to the rescue later; given their very different characters from one another, it was a shame the audience did not have the descriptions.

After the lively opening Prélude came the Allemande or German dance, and then Courante, or running dance, which in this performance was almost an Olympic sprint, but very exciting.  In contrast is the slow dance, the Sarabande, which originated in Spanish America.  Then came two Menuetts; parts of these and the Sarabande were very tender, with ornaments executed exquisitely.  The two differed from each other, and were followed by the Gigue final movement, which was very complex.

It all made up to an accomplished and satisfying whole.

Boris Pigovat is a Russian-born and educated Israeli composer.  Donald Maurice of NZSM has been a champion of his music, and has performed and recorded significant works by this composer.  On consulting Pigovat’s web-site, I found listed three versions of Nigun, for solo viola, solo violin and for string quartet – but not solo cello.  Wkipedia informs me that a “nigun or niggun (pl. niggunim) is a form of Jewish religious song or tune sung by groups. It is vocal music, often with repetitive sounds such as “bim-bim-bam.””

The piece (composed in 1996) opened with strong bass notes.  It incorporated some amazing techniques of fingering – playing the melody and the drone accompaniment at the same time; playing sul ponticello (on the bridge).  The work was demanding technically, with numerous different tonal effects.

The variations by Hans Bottermund and Janos Starker (both cellists) on Paganini’s theme was also an astonishingly complicated piece technically.  It was certainly brilliant, incorporating left-hand pizzicato in the first variation following the theme, then in the next, double-stopping.  The third was almost entirely made up of harmonics, i.e. the strings were not fully pressed down, but the natural harmonics to be found at various points on the strings are made to sound by lightly holding the fingers on them.  Another pizzicato movement followed, to be followed by a very fast variation.  Altogether, the work was a demonstration of a myriad of advanced cello techniques, and ended a recital that revealed what a fine cello and a thoroughly accomplished cellist could do, without any support from other instruments.