Category: Live performance

20th century music from charming flute duo: Bridget Douglas and Rachel Thomson

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Bridget Douglas (flute) and Rachel Thomson (piano)

Messiaen: Le merle noir
John Ritchie: The Snow Goose
Jack Body: Rainforest (2006) – Movement 2 – ‘Returning from a hunt’, and movement 3 – ‘Lullaby’
Gaubert: Sonata No 1 for flute and piano

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday 12 August, 12:15 pm

According to Bridget Douglas’s programme note, Le merle noir was the only piece that Messiaen wrote for the solo flute, which seems extraordinary in the light of his passion for bird song for which the uninitiated would imagine the flute to be the commonest, closest instrument to the sounds of many birds. I know I’ve heard it played live before but had only a sketchy recollection of it.

It starts in a fairly raucous manner, suggesting our tui more than any other bird with which I’m familiar in New Zealand, though the music quickly becomes more calm. It was a careful and beautiful performance by both instruments.

Next was a small narrative piece by Christchurch composer John Ritchie, The Snow Goose, a once very popular story by Paul Gallico, about the loyalty of the bird that escorted one of the thousands of small boats that helped in the evacuation of Allied troops from Dunkirk in 1940.

The piece, originally written with orchestral accompaniment, is an uneasy, thoughtful piece that was suggestive rather than explicit about the story, using the flute, naturally, to depict the bird. The piece was played at a St Andrew’s concert on 29 April by Ingrid Culliford and Kris Zuelicke.

I rather expected the piano to describe other elements of the story such as the war and the sea, but the piano is little more than a sensitive accompaniment, often echoing the flute’s melodic hints. The two, as always, formed a particularly charming partnership. You will find on You-Tube, surprisingly I thought, a performance of the piece by Carol Hohauser and pianist Barbara Lee, made in a concert in New Jersey; it expressed its simply beauties, but just quietly, I think we heard a more persuasive account at St Andrew’s.

Bridget Douglas picked up her big alto flute to play Jack Body’s 2006 composition, Rainforest – the second and third movements. Rachel talked about Jack Body’s requirement to place a chain across the piano strings, finding the effect unattractive, and settled in the end for a very delicate necklace. I could not detect anything of its effect on the sound. The music was based on recordings of music from the Central African Republic and was originally scored for flute and harp, for Flight, comprising this flutist and harpist Carolyn Mills.

The second movement, ‘Returning from a hunt’, began with a jaunty motif, flute and piano taking different paths, though the one was clearly necessary to the other. The third movement, ‘Lullaby 1’, according to the notes, ‘sounds unexpectedly restless to western ears’; not conducive to sleep, I thought, but sounding more like a complex dance.

Philippe Gaubert followed in the footsteps of the great flutist Paul Taffanel, became professor of flute at the Paris Conservatoire and later, conductor of the Paris Opera. His sonata was a charming, lyrical piece, probably difficult enough technically; though structurally conventional, with lively outer movements and a slow, Lent, middle movement, there was nothing bland or commonplace in the music, and it was given the sort of serious, committed performance that would be appropriate for a much more heavy-weight piece.

We noted back in May the frequency of recitals involving the flute. And having missed reviewing a recital by Karen Batten and Rachel Thomson on 24 June, here was another very fine exhibition of the instrument’s versatility and charm.

 

Schumann a winner but Sibelius and Mendelssohn unconvincing in fine Bach Choir performances

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Romantic Fairytales from the Bach Choir of Wellington, conducted by Michael Vinten

Sibelius: The Captive Queen
Mendelssohn: Loreley
Schumann: The Pilgrimage of the Rose

Douglas Mews – piano
Soloists: Bianca Andrew, Marian Hawke, Maaike Christie-Beekman, Oliver Sewell, Christian Thurston, Roger Wilson

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Saturday 8 August, 3 pm

Michael Vinten and his Bach Choir had decided to explore some pretty unexpected choral repertoire with this concert of mid-nineteenth century, plus a rather out-of-season, comparable work from half a century later.

I have to praise that initiative.
However, much of the choral music composed during that era has not stood the test of time. The problem can be ascribed to Romanticism, which encouraged composers to find new modes of expression, focusing on their own natures, and on stories that could be interpreted through non-theatrical music.

Traditional opera subjects drawn from Classical Antiquity and the Bible and the Middle Ages were rejected. At the same time, large middle classes arose, developing a taste for pubic orchestral and choral concerts, with ever-increasing numbers of players and singers. These could attract the new audiences which felt out of place in the expensive splendour of opera houses, and who were without the classical education necessary to follow many operas.

Some German composers tended to scorn opera, especially the Italian and French – Rossini, Donizetti, Auber, Boieldieu, Meyerbeer. Some tried to reinvent opera in the Romantic-German manner, like Weber, Spohr, Marschner; but it took the genius of Wagner to make it work.

The fashion for orchestral music telling a story in symphonic poems, and large-scale, theatrical-type choral compositions became the Romantic oratorio.

The Schumann work was an example of the folk-tale oratorio; Mendelssohn’s unfinished opera an example of the failed Romantic folk-tale opera.

Sibelius’s The Captive Queen is a late example of the secular cantata/oratorio; it served a political purpose, the Queen symbolizing the Finns, and her captors, the Russian Empire. I imagine its disappearance after its first performances is explained by the same reasons that left me unimpressed. Finlandia was a much more successful idea.

It seemed a pedestrian work, in a kind of pious, Victorian, English manner, with the composer struggling to find a convincing vein or melodic inspiration that would lift its lame poetry above a level of embarrassment. It would have been a blessing, though a harder learn, to have sung it in Finnish.

However, the choir sang with energy and conviction, though the men sounded thin in their introductory verses, before being buoyed up by the women. The other handicap was the absence of an orchestra which would at least have lent the music colour. I guess my feelings about the music (not the performance) are summed up by my scribbled question: “Was Sibelius’s heart really in it?  At least the choir makes the most of it”.

Mendelssohn’s Loreley was his operatic attempt at the end of his life, probably inspired by the wonderful soprano Jenny Lind. He’d written singspiels in his teens, but only one was produced: Die Hochzeit des Comacho. Its reception did not encourage him to persist.

But I couldn’t help wishing that he’d devoted his last year to something in which his gifts were real, like another string quartet, in the spirit of the one in F minor, Op 80. Again, understanding the words was embarrassing; onomatopoeic effects sounded childish; the cries for vengeance half-hearted. I could detect no theatrical instinct in the composer.

The soloist who sang the role of Leonora was the accomplished Marian Hawke, who lent it genuine feeling, and the choir sang with energy, though perhaps rather too driven, without sufficient rhythmic and dynamic variety and liveliness.

Happily, Schumann’s Der Rose Pilgerfahrt (The Pilgrimage of the Rose) was quite a different story. We are usually encouraged to believe that Schumann’s last years saw a decline in his musical creativity. As a serious Schumann lover, I’ve always been reluctant to take that without a fight, and here, for me, was pretty persuasive evidence of his non-declining musical powers.

The programme note seeks to deflect criticism of the character and worth of the oratorio (if that’s what it is), by mentioning its “slight narrative”, “little drama”, the numbers only “loosely joined”. That may be, but even if the words themselves, again unfortunately, in English, are naïve and straining for effect, the music has a persuasively genuine feel, creating a situation and narrative that in the context of fairy-story, becomes listenable on account of the beguiling music.  It’s the same case as quite a few operas with feeble libretti which succeed because of the music.

Michael Vinten and the chorus seemed to have been inspired by the lyrical and varied music, varied in tempi, with triple-time numbers here and there, and changes of mood and feeling that respond to the sense. The women of the choir became fairies with sprightly singing.

Bianca Andrew was affecting as The Rose and other soloists performed engagingly: their individual as well as ensemble numbers contributed eloquently to the telling of the story. It was a pleasure again to hear Marian Hawke whom I had not heard for a long time, before she reappeared in Days Bay’s Rosenkavalier last year. Both she and Maaike Christie-Beekman contributed in a lively and committed way. Occasionally, soloists moved to sing together, as a trio (Maaike, Marian and Oliver Sewell) or quartet, and this lent the performance greater dramatic life.

Tenor Oliver Sewell sang the big role of Max, the young lover of the Rose, not attempting an operatic style, but handling the rather narrative part seriously, with sensitively shaded dynamics.  Roger Wilson was a well-cast Gravedigger drawing, as usual, on what one feels is to some extent his own personality; and Christian Thurston found the sturdy role of The Miller and a narrator’s bass aria near the end, ‘This Sunday morn…’, well suited to the character of his voice.

In all, conductor, chorus and soloists, as well as Douglas Mews accompanying at the piano (and I wasn’t so conscious here of the need of an orchestra to provide colour and variety) brought this neglected work to life in a surprisingly attractive way.

It was of course, by far the largest work on the programme (just over an hour) and made the concert as a whole quite rewarding. Schumann and the performers involved in his work made the journey very worthwhile.

 

Opera Society revives its tradition of presenting promising young singers in tantalising song

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Songs and arias
(New Zealand Opera Society – Wellington Branch)

James Benjamin Rodgers (tenor); Georgia Jamieson Emms (soprano); Elisabeth Harris (soprano); Christian Thurston (baritone)
Piano accompaniment: Catherine Norton

Liszt: Three Petrarch sonnets
Songs by Georg Tintner, Mahler
Arias by Gounod, Leoncavallo, Massenet, Nicolai, Verdi, Britten, Douglas Moore, Weill, Richard Rodgers and Sondheim

Cathedral of the Sacred Heart

Thursday 6 August, 7:30 pm

Once upon a time, the Wellington Branch of the New Zealand Opera Society used to stage almost monthly recitals of mainly opera arias and ensembles. As performances of the real thing increased in the 80s and 90s, with the establishment of Wellington City Opera, annual productions by both Victoria University and Wellington Polytechnic schools of music as well as a variety of adventurous ad hoc amateur groups, the appeal of de-contextualised arias and excerpts diminished.

Now that the number and variety of staged performances has seriously declined, scope for aria recitals should again have developed. So we must welcome a venture of this sort: the audience was large enough to encourage the society to try again.

First thing to exclaim about was the enterprising range of items. Absent were almost all the standard arias from the top 20 operas, as well as the once common scattering of popular art songs by Schubert and Schumann.

James Rodgers
One of the most surprising was the first bracket – Liszt’s famous settings of three sonnets by Petrarch; they were also among the most challenging, and in the hands of tenor James Benjamin Rodgers, not flawless in execution.

My main concern was with his gauging of the church’s acoustic. It’s a fine space for the singer, but very easy in which to misjudge the amount of force required for projection. The expression of passionate and unrestrained emotions in the poems tempts the singer to deliver tempestuously, with too much force. The beginning of No 104 was much more promising as Rodgers captured better the calmer sense of puzzlement, but too often one wanted a little more subtlety, variety of mood, just a softer, less driven voice.

So I looked forward to his later pieces. The first of them was the third act duet between Violetta (Georgia Jamieson Emms) and Alfredo in La traviata; here his voice was beautifully modulated, capturing the confusion between his full awareness of Violetta’s imminent death and his need to support her delusionary dreams of happiness. The pair was excellently matched in tone and dramatic perception.

Unusually, Rodgers sang, from Britten’s The Rape of Lucretia, the male chorus’s interlude describing Tarquinius’s ride to Rome to rape Lucretia, the wife of his general Collatinus. An absolutely splendid portrayal, with a peerless piano accompaniment from Catherine Norton.

Next morning Lucretia herself delivers an extraordinary, dignified lament, ‘Give him this orchid’, before killing herself before her husband: it was Elizabeth Harris’s triumph. Incidentally, one must record that the opera was done by the then Conservatorium of Music of Massey University a decade or more ago.

James Rodgers’s final group of pieces clinched his standing as a very fine singer, capable of grasping a wide variety of musical styles and emotional dilemmas. There were excerpts from two Kurt Weill works; the operetta The Firebrand of Florence and his ‘musical tragedy’ Lost in the Stars; and from Sondheim’s Sunday in the Park with George and Into the Woods (here duetting with Emms). Rodgers caught the wit and variety of mood keenly, demonstrating a natural talent for ‘becoming’ the character in question both through vocal nuance as well as facial expression and gesture. The title song from Weill’s Lost in the Stars sat right in the middle of his voice. In ‘Finishing the hat’ from Sunday in the Park his pianissimo conveyed perfectly the tortured conflict that the painter Seurat faced.

James and Georgia ended the concert, together again, with ‘It takes Two’ from Into the Woods, sensitively revealing the nature of the relationship between the couple. The two singers were again beautifully matched in this touching duet.

I am one who has not found it easy to enjoy Sondheim’s musical theatre, perhaps through exposure in live performance only with amateur productions; but the two examples here rather captivated me. Nevertheless, professional productions, which is what these pieces demand, are very unlikely in New
Zealand.

Georgia Jamieson Emms
Georgia had first displayed her interpretative talent with three songs (two by Theodore Storm and one by Hesse) set by Georg Tintner who fled to New Zealand from the Nazis in Austria before WW2 and, typically, found it almost impossible to gain musical recognition here, though he eventually became conductor of the New Zealand Opera Company. I hadn’t come across any of his compositions before; in these three one could hear hints of inter-war Vienna, touches of Alban Berg, Schoenberg and influences from Mahler and even Liszt could be perceived; secure and confident in realisation though nothing strongly memorable. But the performances would have charmed the composer.

Later offerings from Georgia included an unfamiliar aria from Nicolai’s German take on The Merry Wives of Windsor. It’s often done still in Germany but here we know only the overture and perhaps the splendid Drinking Song. This ‘Nun heilt herbei’ was sprightly and expressive, with comic effects that Georgia delivered very well. (Nicolai was a strange case, dates exactly those of Chopin, but a much smaller talent; he wrote a few other operas none of which held the stage).

That was followed by the Traviata duet, in which she created a moving and lively simulation of dying.

Georgia’s last items were an aria from Weill’s Street Scene of 1946, entitled ‘An American opera’, and then the ‘letter scene’ from Douglas Moore’s famous (in America) The Ballad of Baby Doll. In
both she displayed a lovely timbre, with careful control of emotional expressiveness.

Christian Thurston
Thurston arrived on stage in the middle of the first half and sang two opera arias, both amorous yearnings after forbidden fruit: ‘E fra quest’ ansie’ – Silvio’s aria from Pagliacci, and the rather less known ‘Vision fugitive’ from Massenet’s Hérodiade. Unlike the Jokaanan in Strauss’s Salome, here John the Baptist is made to feel quite open lust for the seductive Salome.

In both arias I felt that Thurston was pushing his voice excessively. While it was disciplined and firm, his voice lacked colour and emotional variety and didn’t really convey the trembling, out-of-control emotion that one expects to find in, and to be touched by, the words and the music itself of these two arias.

His third song was addressed to a young lady who was accessible to the singer: Emile’s well-loved ‘Younger than Springtime’ from South Pacific. But here again he missed the gentleness and sentiment of the beguiling melody in spite of a voice of even quality and pleasant timbre. I could not decide whether the problem was his miscalculation of the nature of the acoustic, encouraging needless pressure on his voice, or simply the choice of pieces that suited neither his voice nor his histrionic talents.

Elizabeth Harris
Before her aria from Lucretia, mentioned above, Elizabeth Harris had sung one of Mahler’s songs from Des Knaben Wunderhorn: Das irdische Leben. The subject echoes Schubert’s Der Erlkönig; and she sang it with tremulous intensity.

Then came a much anthologised opera aria from an unknown opera: from Gounod’s first opera, Sapho: ‘O ma mère immortelle’. It’s a touching little piece which she handled with sweet sensitivity. She also sang one of Britten’s brilliant cabaret songs, Johnny, which she carried with sparkling acting and a zaney, daring self-confidence along with Catherine Norton’s dazzling piano.

The concert as a whole has to be rated a considerable success, both as highlighting one singer who has gained some international success and three others of great promise.  As I observed at the beginning, the decline in the amount and variety of live opera in performance should create a renewed thirst to explore opera, through excerpts, that look less and less likely to be performed here. And it is disturbing that such well-schooled and talented singers as these are unlikely ever to find full employment in this country.

 

 

Duo Tapas: violin and guitar play winning St Andrew’s lunchtime concert

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Duo Tapas (Rupa Maitra – violin, Owen Moriarty – guitar)

Vivaldi: Sonata in A minor, Op 2 No 12, RV 32
Mark O’Connor: pieces from Strings and Threads Suite
Arvo Pärt: Spiegel im Spiegel, arr, Moriarty
William Squire: Tarantella in D minor, Op 23, arr Moriarty

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday 5 August, 12:15 pm

Duo Tapas is a fairly visible little ensemble on the Wellington music scene; but it pays not to take them for granted, as playing much the same repertoire, with minor variations in their frequent concerts. It could be because I haven’t heard a couple of their recent concerts that this programme was entirely new to me.

They began with Rudolph Buttman’s arrangement of one of Vivaldi’s violin sonatas, the last of the set published as Opus 2. The programme listed the movements as Preludio, Allemande, Grave and Capriccio. Other sources offer different movement titles: Preludio, Capriccio, Grave, Corrente; or Preludio – Largo, Capriccio – Presto, Grave, Allemanda – Allegro. Of course I did not discover these variations till I explored the internet later; no doubt they reflected the liberties publishers felt able to take in the 18th century.

I wondered during the performance about the appropriateness of the titles, and had jotted a puzzled note that the last movement hardly sounded ‘capricious’ – rather, just brisk.

Never mind.
The duo were absolutely justified in taking up this successful arrangement of one of Vivaldi’s many lovely pieces, more than usually melodious, sounding as if he had the guitar very much in mind when he cast the continuo lines (for cello and harpsichord).

Mark O’Connor is an American composer, now in his early 60s, who has devoted himself to listenable, rather infectious music. The title refers, obviously, to the stringed instrument and the threads connecting the thirteen little movements in the suite, a sort of history of United States popular music, offering examples of many styles of music from Irish reels and sailors’ songs of the 16th century to recent times. They played ten of them. I had counted only eight when they ended, which was probably the result of failing to notice a pause and change of style. There was a convincing sense of anticipation with Off to Sea, as the sails picked up the wind; the last piece, Sweet Suzanne was the longest, most bravura and arresting: a colourful and entertaining collection.

Arvo Part’s Spiegel im Spiegel is nearly as popular as his Fratres: hypnotic, a masterpiece of simplicity. The translation for violin and guitar involved retuning the bottom E string of the guitar to a low F, to deal with the repeated anchor. Rupa Maitra played it with just discreet vibrato and a riveting stillness. Again, a very convincing transformation.

Finally, there was a piece by William Squire, a name that was once, perhaps still, very familiar to cello students. He edited a series of albums of varying difficulty: I still have two of them, as well, to my surprise, as the Tarantella in D minor, played here. It didn’t make a deep impression on me sixty-odd years ago, but this version worked very well, though I could not argue that the duo had unearthed a masterpiece. Nevertheless, the character of the two instruments, the players’ rapport and the way in which their musical instincts combined might have brought the most unpromising composition to life.

Don’t hesitate to get along to their next concert, wherever it might be.

 

Just a half hour of St Andrew’s organ before you go home: Bach and Pärt

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

‘Way to Go (Home)’
Fourth Wellington Organists’ Association twilight concert

Heather Easting and Danielle van der Zwaag on the gallery pipe organ

Bach: Concerto in A minor (BWV 593) and Das alte Jahr vergangen ist 
Arvo Pärt’s Trivium

St Andrews on the Terrace

Tuesday 4 August, 5:15 pm

Middle C is a little red-faced on account of neglecting this interesting and unusual series of organ recitals at St Andrew’s. Though we’ve had them listed from the start, our reviewers have failed to find their way to the church at this after-work time-slot.

The first thing to note is that St Andrew’s is one of Wellington’s many churches that has a good pipe organ which presumably gets a work-out on Sundays, but rests untended during the rest of the week. Occasionally, the Wednesday lunchtime concerts feature an organist at either the main organ or the baroque organ in the nave of the church. The decision early this year to offer recitals that are intended to capture workers on their way home is enterprising and the three recitals before this one have drawn small but not discouraging audiences; this time the audience was bigger (I do not suggest that my arrival doubled the audience size) and programmes ran out.

The St Andrew’s organ has had restoration work done in recent times, and it sounds impressive: clear, robust, colourful. The programme demonstrated two very contrasted aspects of its range: as an instrument managing baroque music well, with stops well-adapted to the slender and not too powerful capacity of the pre-Romantic organ; as well as the very singular compositional manner of Arvo Pärt.

The first Bach work, played by Heather Easting, was his Concerto in A minor, (BWV 593) a transcription of No 8 of Vivaldi’s L’estro armonico. Op 3, originally for two violins.  It makes a
splendid organ work, and must surely help overcome a lingering Vivaldi-snobbery, driven by the same snobbery that tends to diminish a lot of music that has good tunes and an emotional pull. This performance was more than adequate, first because it seemed to demonstrate the strengths of the instrument itself and second, without indulging in registrations that were too thick and undifferentiated.

A short piece by Bach followed, played by young organist Danielle van der Zwaag: Bach’s Das alte Jahr vergangen ist, BWV 614, from the Orgelbuchlein (Little Organ Book). It has a somewhat meandering character which at first I mistook for a hesitancy in the playing, but its essential sophistication combined with unpretentiousness, as well as its thoughtful performance, made it a nice transition to the next, utterly different music.

Heather Easting returned then to play Pärt’s Trivium. The programme note explains: it means ‘where three roads meet’ (Latin); it has three voices: two manuals and pedals, the triad sonority, and a tripartite form. Some of the high reed sounds produced early on didn’t much appeal to me, and it seemed just a bit aimless, but all was explained with the fortissimo opening of the second part, which would have been meaningless without the earlier movement. But beyond that are considerations of Pärt’s spiritual intentions which the programme note discussed. The composer pitches two opposing voices: Part’s invention, tintinnabulation, and melody, suggesting the spiritual and the temporal; and I’m sure that the pursuit of the thoughts of musicologists on those matters would lead to a more enriching musical, if not metaphysical, experience.

At a first-hearing level, this was at once a careful and exuberant performance that may well be an excellent way to substitute the burdens of the working day with complexities of an altogether different sort.

The next ‘Way to go (Home)’ 5.15pm organ recital will not be till 6 October. A return visit is bound to be rewarding.

 

Recorders and piano leap into the 20th century with attractive, interesting English music

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Bernard Wells (recorders) and Thomas Nikora (piano)

Antony Hopkins: Suite for Descant Recorder and Pianoforte
Colin Hand: Plaint for Tenor Recorder and Piano
Edmund Rubbra: Meditazioni sopra “Cours Désolés”, Op.67
John Golland: New World Dances for Recorder and Piano, Op.62
Herbert Murrill: Suite (Largo, Presto, Recitative, Finale)
Geoffrey Poole: Skally Skarekrow’s Whistling Book
Lennox Berkeley: Sonatina for Treble Recorder and Pianoforte

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday, 29 July 2015, 12.15pm

This was an unusual concert.  Recorders play early music, right?  The music played this time was not early or baroque, but contemporary. And it was written for recorders and piano.  All the works were by twentieth century English composers.  I suppose that only the names Edmund Rubbra and Lennox Berkeley would be familiar.

Antony Hopkins (not the actor) was the first of seven such composers featured.  His suite of four short pieces was delightful, and the instruments were well balanced.  A very charming allegretto quasi pastorale was followed by a sprightly scherzo, after which came canon andante tranquillo: lyrical and meditative.  The jig vivace finale had plenty of fast finger-work for both players and was a truly lively jig that one could imagine dancers performing.

After this, Bernard Wells spoke about the famous Carl Dolmetsch (1911-1997), whose father revived the recorder and other early instruments almost single-handedly in England beginning in the late nineteenth-century.  Carl performed throughout his long life, and was the reason for the  composers writing these works.

The character of Colin Hand’s short work was appropriate to its title, while Edmund Rubbra’s piece, with its mixture of Italian and French in the title (Wikipedia gives it entirely in French), was played on the treble recorder.  A range of moods and dynamics were revealed.  Here, there was a problem, later explained and apologised for by Bernard Wells.  It seems that the very breathy, even harsh tone in louder passages that spoilt the music at times was caused by a build-up of condensation in the instrument.  The passing of his absorbent cloth through the instrument did not really fix the matter.  I always think of the treble as the most mellow and melodic of the family; not today.

Wells explained that the treble recorder he was playing was of a new design, the bore being flared, not straight like the regular recorder.  This had been developed for playing modern music, not for baroque music.  It has a bigger range and a few keys to assist in playing lower notes.

The descant instrument returned with John Golland’s Suite of dances.  The ‘Ragtime Allegro’ opening movement was good fun, Nikora varying the dynamics agreeably.  The composer died in 1993 (born 1942), one of several of the composers featured who died rather prematurely.  His second movement, ‘Blues Lazily’, on treble recorder, demonstrated some of the more unexpected moods of which the instrument is capable.  Back to the descant for ‘Bossa Nova Vivo’, its tricky tempi and finger clicks from both musicians adding to the enjoyment.

Interposed but not printed in the programme was an item by Herbert Murrill (1909-1952): a suite of well-contrasted movements.  The Recitativo employed the lower register of the instrument, and the quick finale rounding off an enjoyable work.

The works by Geoffrey Poole and Berkeley had the recorder amplified by a small speaker; I had not noticed it in use earlier in the concert.  Wells explained that it was used to obtain a better balance with the piano.  ‘Clouds’, Poole’s first movement was in a minor key, and of a dreamy nature.  ‘Spring Breezes’ featured appropriate flutterings, while ‘Sunshine’ was smooth with a rippling accompaniment.  Finally, ‘Hailstones’ were darting here and there in the final movement, sometimes heavily, sometimes lightly.  The passing of themes and effects between the two instruments was most appealing. There was a jolly ending.  Again, Wells apologised for the instrument.

Berkeley’s sonatina again had the treble recorder with a very ‘chuffy’ tone.  The middle movement (adagio) was very calm, slowly building in tension and volume, then dying, while the allegro moderato final movement was a racy romp, but obviously tricky to play.

I did wonder whether the use of the mike should have enabled playing more softly to overcome the problems.  Of course, the mike made the harsh sound worse than it would have been otherwise.

Given the recorders’ relatively small range, it is surprising what varied music these composers wrote for the instruments.  Bernard Wells is an accomplished recorder of long standing, and Thomas Nikora proved a worthy accompanist, producing delightful effects on the piano.

 

Music Futures’ praiseworthy venture with young Wellington musicians

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Music Futures

The Sound of Wellington Youth Music 2015

Manu Tioriori (selected students from the combined choir of Wellington College and Wellington East Girls’ College), conducted by Katie Macfarlane
Claudia Tarrant-Matthews (violin and piano)
Trio Glivenko (Shweta Iyer – violin, Bethany Angus – cello, Claudia Tarrant-Matthews – piano)

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Sunday 26 July, 3 pm

This was the second annual concert by a group set up last year to help young musicians in Wellington. The organisation exists to provide performance opportunities, access to masterclasses and workshops, mentoring by professional musicians, financial awards and the hire of musical instruments.

The choir which opened the concert showed one of the advantages of co-education while at the same time being in nicely segregated institutions; the two colleges virtually share the same property, though emphatically apart when I attended the boys’ institution a long time ago. Then, the only (illicit) contact was at the corner of the tennis courts close to Paterson Street or (licitly) at dancing classes tutored by Wellington East’s physical education mistress and graced by a phalanx of girls who marched after school across our segregated territory.

Katie Macfarlane achieved lovely effects in three songs, balanced, unforced and comfortable; the second was , two Maori and one in English though French by origin: one of the better, certainly more touching, songs from Claude-Michel Schönberg’s Les misérables: ‘Empty chairs at empty tables’.  (Intriguingly, the song is not in the original French version of the musical; it was added later for the revised French version as “Seul devant ces tables vides”). The talented young William Pereira sang it, an attractive, natural voice; he sang with feeling and nice sentiment.

Their second bracket consisted of the Psalm-derived ‘I will lift up mine eyes’, the Zulu wedding song ‘Hamba Lulu’ and the locally-relevant ‘Poneke E’, a highly characteristic, catchy Maori song. Each performance caught the widely varied character of the three songs.

The presence of the pair of NZSO players earlier known as Flight: flutist Bridget Douglas and harpist Carolyn Mills, purported to be to offer something to aspire to. That was hardly necessary but the piece they played Persichetti’s Serenade No 10, was good to hear again; it’s been in their repertoire for several years. It’s just eight short movements, none of them around long enough to tire or to require the services of musical elaboration, counter-melodies, development, what-have-you…

Claudia Tarrant-Matthews offered examples of both her violin and piano gifts, both without ostentation, with discretion and insight: the 3rd and 4th movements of Bach’s violin sonata in A minor and later, Rachmaninov’s Prelude in D, Op 32 No 4.

Tarrant-Matthews also took part as pianist in the Glivenko Trio’s (which also involved violinist Shweta Iyer and cellist Bethany Angus) performance of Shostakovich’s first piano trio which they played at the NZSM Queen’s Birthday Chamber Music Weekend on 1 June (see my review of that date, where the name is explained).  This performance, like that in June in the Adam Concert Room, was played with an understanding that seemed beyond their years.

The whole enterprise was another admirable initiative that in a small way fills the great gap left by our educational authorities in the area of the arts and music especially.

Young pianist Stella Lu plays delightful recital for Pataka Friends

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Stella Lu (piano)
for Pataka Friends

Bach: Prelude and Fugue in D minor, Book 2 of ‘The 48’, BWV 875
Chopin: Nocturne in G , Op.37, no.2
Beethoven: Sonata no.5
Chopin: Polonaise in C# minor, Op.26 no.1
Nielsen: Five Piano Pieces, Op.3
Madeleine Dring (1823-1977): Blue Air

Helen Smith Community Room, Pataka Art + Museum, Porirua

Sunday 19 July 2015, 2.30 pm

The first observation was of Stella Lu’s extreme youth; I understand she is still at school, yet she passed her Grade 8 piano examination in 2012.  The second observation was that the walls of the Helen Smith room have been painted since I reviewed Ludwig Treviranus’s concert there two years ago, and they now appear to be covered with a matt paint, not the glossy paint they had then, which made the sound too bright and brittle at times.  In addition, the placement of the piano, and the audience chairs, was different.  I did not experience that over-brightness this time; the instrument sounded very well, although occasionally the fortissimos were a little too loud for the size of the venue.

Stella Lu appears to be quite an entrepreneur, putting on her own concerts and playing with other groups.  A couple of matters to be borne in mind: it is usual to stand and acknowledge the audience’s applause after each item, not just at the end, and it is good for the audience to be able to see the performer’s face while she is playing, so a hairstyle that allows this (such as a pony-tail) can be the means to enhance the audience’s rapport with the player.  It may also be to Stella’s advantage to have the piano stool a little lower.  The convention is (with good reason, I believe) that the thighs should be parallel with the floor.  All the pieces were played from printed scores.

The Bach chosen was quite difficult, and playing without resort to the sustaining pedal was most commendable.  Stella brought out the themes well, particularly in the Prelude.  She has a good piano technique, and plenty of flexibility in her wrists and fingers.  A nice feature was that before playing, she paid tribute to her teacher, who was not able to be present.  The room was not full, but nevertheless, the audience was of quite a healthy size.

The Chopin Nocturne provided a complete contrast, and was played with some delightful pianissimos, and much expression.

Beethoven’s fifth sonata is one that I do not know at all well.  Stella maintained the interest, despite a few fumbles in the first movement.  It is relatively short, but full of surprises and innovations.  Stella exhibited a good range of dynamics, and the adagio molto third movement was very expressive.

Nielsen’s five pieces proved to be delightful and varied.  The first, ‘Folketone’ was charming in a darkly northern way.  By contrast, ‘Humoreske’ was very bright, like Scandinavian sprites dancing.  However, the pedal muddied their activities a little.

‘Arabeske’ had alternate soft and loud passages; perhaps this was the naughty sprites getting up to mischief.  ‘Mignon’ was full of heady, sultry perfume, while the final dance, ‘Altedans’ continued that feeling in a dreamy mood, after opening with ambiguous tonalities.  Stella played them all with clarity and feeling.  However, the final piece, much the most contemporary on the programme, suffered a little from too much pedal.  It was another sultry piece, in a swing rhythm, and was a bright, relaxing way to end the recital.

There seemed to be a lot of noisy tweaking and rattling from the paper programmes – perhaps it might be possible for the promoters to find a softer grade of paper.

This was a worthy start to the Friends of Pataka’s winter series of concerts.

 

 

Kapiti Chamber Choir tackles highly ambitious all-Jewish programme including a major Bloch work

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

A Festival of Jewish Music

Kapiti Chamber Choir conducted by Eric Sidoti with Douglas Mews (organ), Miranda Wilson (cello) and Jenny Scarlet (piano)

Ernest Bloch: Avodath Hakodesh with Roger Wilson (baritone) as the Cantor

Marc Lavry: Song of the Valley; La Rosa (Sephardic folk song arranged by Paul Ben-Haim; Hasidic Niggun (Hasidic folk song arraged by Bonia Shur; Bloch: Suite No 3 for solo cello; Schoenberg: ‘Ei, du Lütte’ (Platt-Deutsch song); Richard Fuchs: Hymnus an Gott; Mordecai Seter: A Woman of
Valour; Lavry: Hora, Song, Op 206 No 3; Bonia Shur: ‘The Rain is over’; Paul Ben-Haim, arranger: Adon Olam (Benediction)

Kapiti Uniting Church, Raumati Beach

Sunday 19 July, 2:30 pm

Two hours of composers who, I imagine, would have been no more than names to most, even those with a fairly good knowledge of 20th century music, might have looked a bit unappetising to an audience for choral music. So to start, I was surprised to find the church pretty full. And though there was nothing to suggest that other than Jewish music would be in the programme, I rather expected that music director Eric Sidoti might have thrown in a couple of more familiar pieces.

The main thing was Bloch’s big Jewish liturgical work, but the first half was given over to non-Bloch, apart from a piece for solo cello, his Suite No 3, played by Miranda Wilson.

The rest comprised music entirely by Jewish composers, mostly religious in character. Four Israeli composers featured, no doubt familiar to any aficionado in the audience: Paul Ben-Haim born 1897 in Munich, Marc Lavry, born in Riga in 1903, Mordecai Seter, born in Novorossiysk in Russia in 1916 and Bonia Shur, also born in Riga, 1923.

Bloch’s Cello Suite: Apart from its shape, five movements alternating quick and slow, suggest Bach as a model, though a glance at Wikipedia’s list of music for solo cello will deter most people from seeking influences. In contrast to the emotional warmth of the popular Schelomo for cello and orchestra, the piece sounded a wee bit remote and soulless; perhaps the performance could have risked more expressiveness and colour, though my impression is likely to have more to do with things that don’t reveal themselves at first hearing.

The first piece, Lavry’s Emek, or Song of the Valley: Rest in coming, unaccompanied, began hesitantly, but soon gained confidence, comfortable in its modal character and staccato rhythms, the kibbutz setting hinting at a kinship with early Soviet workers’ songs and dances. A similar spirit existed in Lavry’s Hora Nirkoda (‘Let’s dance’. Greek for ‘Dance’ is ‘Choros’: a borrowing?).

The first arrangement by Paul Ben-Haim was of a song in Ladino, the Spanish dialect language of the Sephardic Jews who were expelled from Spain by Philip II round 1492, and fled to the Levant, Greece and other parts of Europe. La Rosa, like Emek, was unaccompanied, carrying a beguiling tune. The last piece in the first half was a Benediction (Adon Olam) also arranged by Ben-Haim. Roger Wilson, as Cantor, alternated in this with the Choir, in a serious six/eight rhythm.

Bonia Shur contributed an arrangement of a Hassidic folk song, with piano accompaniment, vigorously pulsed, charmingly sung. His own song, The Rain is over, comes from The Song of Songs; though I hadn’t heard it before, it struck me as a rather more alluring song than it actually sounded here.

Mordecai Seter’s Eschet Chayil (A Woman of Valour) began with a couple of women’s voices in duet, soon joined by the rest of the choir which became quite animated, with changing dance rhythms in the piano.

That left two songs from unexpected quarters: Schoenberg’s setting of a Platt-Deutsch poem, ‘Ei, du Lütte’; a delightful, sprightly little song from the young composer, aged about 30.  Richard Fuchs was a German/Jewish composer who sought refuge in New Zealand in 1939 and was ignored as a composer during his eight final years here, but was rediscovered through the efforts of his grandson, theatre director Danny Mulheron.  Fuchs’s Hymnus an Gott was sung by Roger Wilson, a Hasidic religious poem expressing emphatic belief.

So, although there was no departure from a Jewish/Hebrew musical programme, I found the variety of the generally unfamiliar music interesting and enjoyable, prompting me, as I write this, to explore these paths further by means of the communication and information technology now at our disposal.

Then in the second half came the 50 minute-long Avodath Hakodesh, a setting of the Jewish Sabbath morning service. Though Bloch is still known (in his lifetime, much to his annoyance) as a Jewish composer, he struggled to shake off the image. Little of his music was Jewish, though critics have been unable to resist finding signs of Jewish music in his work. A generous commission prompted this large-scale work (though he didn’t get paid in full). He thought of it as an oratorio though there is no narrative element, a necessary feature I suppose.

He wrote: “It far surpasses a ‘Jewish’ service, it has become a cosmic poem, a glorification of the laws of the universe.” Rather than an oratorio, it has been compared to Beethoven’s Missa Solemnis.

He wrote it, he said, “not for the Jews – who would probably fight it – nor the critics” but for himself. Nevertheless, the music, at times harsh and austere, has the warmth, sensuality, passionate intensity, and the fervour of Hebrew literature, as critic Olin Downes wrote about a New York performance.

It is hard to detect details of the overarching musical structure at first hearing, the repetition of musical motifs and their relationship to liturgical elements, yet such things are present, and they make their impact in a subliminal way.

Though not quite a substitute for the orchestra, the digital organ in Douglas Mews’s hands was much better than a piano would have been, particularly in the Symphonic Interludes which Bloch uses to create a sense of unity.

There were many parts that were impressive, for example in the Toroh Tzivah in Movement III where
Cantor and choir alternate in the commanding verses about the laws of Moses; and at the peaceful, pastoral Etz Chayim he in Movement IV. And in the more eventful Fifth Movement where the Cantor, chanting in English, expounds on universal ideals of human behaviour and the tone becomes impassioned; and a calm spirit returns with the soulful Adon Olom.

Though the demands of such an ambitious and spiritually infused work are frankly more than a choir of this kind can be expected to bring off very convincingly, the whole was impressive, and one admired the conductor’s endless energy in the guidance of singers with clear entries, and gestures that characterized the ever-changing moods and tone of the music.

Conductor, choir, baritone Wilson and organist Mews have done us a favour in exposing this rarity, and the accompanying pieces in the first half, to our awareness: now we know there’s more to Jewish-coloured music than Prokofiev’s Overture on Hebrew Themes, Schelomo and Kol Nidrei.

 

School of Music voices on display with varied and interesting programme

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Voice Students, New Zealand School of Music

Songs and arias

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday, 15 July 2015, 12.15pm

It is always interesting to hear the voice students.  Some are undoubtedly more advanced in their studies than others, although the good-sized audience were not vouchsafed that information.  All were accompanied by Mark W. Dorrell.  It was interesting to note that the piano lid was not raised at all – a very sensible decision when accompanying young singers.

Declan Cudd, tenor, was up first, with ‘Ah, se fosse intorno al trono’, from La Clemenza di Tito, by Mozart.  He has a strong voice and great breath control, making for flowing lines.  It was a very good presentation, and there was a lovely top note.

He was followed by perhaps the highlight of the concert: Olivia Marshall (soprano, as Susanna) and Lisa Harper-Brown, one of the lecturers in voice (Countess), with ‘Sull’aria?  Che soave seffiretto…’ from The Marriage of Figaro (Mozart).  Semi-acted, this duet had Susanna, the maid, taking instructions from the Countess – which she wrote down and then handed the list to her ‘employer’.  Here were two fine voices, neither one dominating.  Olivia Marshall proved to have quite a big voice, easy vocal production and splendid tone – a joy to hear.

Joseph Haddow sang ‘Come raggio di sol’ by Antonio Caldara (1670-1736).  The bass-baritone made a good sound, with a lovely dark quality.

He was followed by Luka Venter (tenor).  This was a different type of voice from that of Declan Cudd.  There was not a lot of power or volume, but his German language was good in his aria ‘Mit Würd und Hoheit angetan’ from Haydn’s Creation.  He used the music score (others sang from memory) but did not appear to refer to it much. Other repertoire might have suited him better (see below).

Another duet followed, with Esther Leefe and Alicia Cadwgan (sopranos) singing from Purcell’s Dido and Aeneas, the operato be presented next month by the School of Music.  Dido is usually sung by a mezzo rather than a soprano; one thinks of Kathleen Ferrier and Janet Baker, and their mellow tones.

Alicia Cadwgan was not really suited to this role.  However, she next sang ‘Mattinata’ by Leoncavallo, which was much more appropriate for her voice, and she performed it in fitting style, featuring fine top notes.

Declan Cudd returned, singing Verdi’s ‘Il poveretto’ with smooth production.  He is certainly on the way, but to be a Verdian tenor he will need more volume.

Next came a Russian bracket: Rebecca Howie sang the first of three Rachmaninoff songs: ‘Before my Window’.  She has a clear soprano voice with apparently easy production and good top notes, plus plenty of volume without apparent effort.  It was an appealing song, tastefully sung.

Luka Venter returned, with ‘Lilacs’ (without score this time). There was better projection and more variation of dynamics.

The third song was given by Alicia Cadwgan: ‘Oh, never sing to me again’.  Actually, I would happily have her sing again in this mode: words were particularly clear, and she gave an accomplished performance of a song full of emotional content, which she conveyed strongly.  She varied the tone and
expression superbly.

A confident Olivia Marshall sang a Tchaikovsky song: ‘It was in early spring’ (words by Tolstoy).  What a beautiful voice!  It is even throughout the range, and she uses the words (I’ve heard it described as ‘chewing’ the words), emphasising the important ones.  She has ample volume, and filled the church with this exquisite song.

Joseph Haddow returned, with an aria from Bellini’s La Sonnambula: ‘Vi ravviso’.  What a contrast this was to the Russian songs!  Some notes were a little raw, but the low ones were delicious.  The
dynamics were handled judiciously.

Following this, there came a French bracket of songs, pointing to the other work in the forthcoming opera season: L’Enfant et les Sortilèges, by Ravel.  Olivia Marshall began with his ‘Chanson de la mariée’. This was a beautifully varied rendition, as was her Russian song.  In every other respect, the French songs were very different from the Russian ones; this different character seemed to be lost on some of the singers.  Marshall was thoroughly in command of her performance, with again excellent voice production.

Rebecca Howie’s ‘Les Papillons’ by Chausson was sung rather too heartily for its character.  Butterflies are fragile, floating, flying creatures, and the poet is contemplating them, but the rendition we heard was more like a speech than a subtle observation.
(Grove and my record both say the poem is by Gautier, not Jean Richepin as given in the printed programme.)

Similarly, Luana Howard’s ‘Après un rêve’, Fauré’s magical song, required more subtlety.  It’s not about volume and projection in this case, but about nuance and meditative musing, after a dream.  This was missing.  We need the words to be clear, but it is not a declamation; it’s a solo song, not an operatic aria.  More variation of dynamics was needed.

Esther Leefe had the right approach to Ravel’s ‘Le Paon’.  Singing with the score, she had a quieter, more pensive style.  Her words were beautifully enunciated.  It is notable that her teacher is Jenny Wollerman, a mistress of the French repertoire.  This one had the French ambience, not least due to Mark Dorrell’s accompaniment.

She then sang ‘Thanks to these lonesome vales’ from Dido and Aeneas with again much attention to the words and their meanings.

The concert ended on a lighter note with ‘Mister Snow’ from Carousel by Rodgers and Hammerstein.  Rebecca Howie sang it in the appropriate style.  Her voice is suited to this repertoire and she used it well, expressing the meaning of the words with clarity and very musically.

A very varied programme and a variety of voices made for an entertaining and interesting concert.