Mozart from the NZSO – magical music and music-making

The New Zealand Symphony Orchestra presents:
Magnificent Mozart

Overture: The Abduction from the Seralio K.384
Sinfonia Concertante for violin and viola in E-flat K.364
Symphony No.40 in G Minor K.550

Andrew Grams (conductor)
with Vesa-Matti Leppänen (violin) and Julia Joyce (viola)
New Zealand Symphony Orchestra

Michael Fowler Centre

Friday 9 August 2013

This early evening concert was conducted by Andrew Grams, billed as “one of America’s most promising and talented young conductors [who] has already appeared with many of the great orchestras of the world”.  The band of 40 players was nicely sized for the works, and Grams amply demonstrated his talents as he drew from them a sparkling sound, wide dynamic range, and the clean crisp playing so vital to Mozart’s writing.

The opening work was the opera overture to The Abduction from the Seraglio K.384 – seven minutes of glittering brilliance that made full play of the “Turkish” effects in its orchestration, and the wide dynamic contrasts that swept dramatically from whispering piano to full throated fortissimo and back in a matter of moments, with effortless precision. The excitement of this music and the playing immediately captured the audience.

Next was the much loved Sinfonia Concertante in Eb major K.364 for violin and viola, with soloists by Concertmaster Vesa-Matti Leppänen and Principal Viola Julia Joyce. The opening Allegro maestoso showed immediately that both principals and conductor were of one mind about their interpretation, and this was underpinned throughout by impeccable support from the orchestra. The lilting rhythms and melodies of this beautiful movement were woven effortlessly between the participants, and the romance of the phrasing was fully exploited with rubato where appropriate. The double cadenza was executed with great panache.

The central Andante was presented as a beautifully contemplative conversation between the solo instruments, and it was executed with exquisite delicacy. The poetry of these exchanges was further enhanced by the contrast of Julia Joyce’s beautiful misty blue satin gown with Leppänen’s sombre black suit. The audience was spellbound, and you could have heard a pin drop in the auditorium.

While my personal preference is for a reading that maximizes the silken warmth of the violin and has the throaty syrup of the lower viola sound filling the space with Mozart’s luscious melodies, that is very much an individual choice. Having settled on their particular approach, these players held the audience in breathless appreciation.

The sparkling final Presto got off to a galloping start which had me wondering if it could be adequately sustained. The tempo was certainly presto, but the orchestra and soloists literally never missed a beat. What did suffer was Mozart’s wonderful passagework for strings and winds, which was sacrificed to the god of speed to no real advantage. The riveting sweep of the scales missed out on that spine-tingling quality that is imbued by the clarity of every note speaking within the rushing texture. There is magic in every single note of Mozart’s orchestral writing, and it does not deserve to be lost.

When I chatted briefly at the interval to a musician whom I greatly respect, she expressed the view that it was courageous to try and present this Concertante work in such a large space. This perfectly voiced my sentiments. The impeccable musicianship and technical execution of the performance were never in question, but there were times when the soloists, and the  lower register of the viola in particular, were overshadowed by orchestra, despite its modest resources. The work was not composed for the mega halls of modern times, and it lost some of its complexity and emotional richness in the transposition.

That said, the audience was hugely appreciative and called the players back repeatedly to the stage. This surely is grounds enough for offering the public this extraordinary work more frequently.

Mozart’s Symphony no.40 in G minor ‘The Great’, K.550 formed the second half of the concert. The orchestra and conductor were again in perfect understanding, and Andrew Grams’ light touch with the baton confirmed his absolute confidence that the players were responding to every nuance in the music. The Molto Allegro opened with a whisper of string sound before the restless melody which is the famous hallmark of this movement. Its sense of insistence at each reappearance  provided a clearly articulated framework for the excellent string and wind playing.

The following Andante was rendered with due presence and a measure of solemnity, while never becoming heavy; rather it was like a respectful homage to one of the last works that was to come from Mozart’s prolific and remarkable pen.

The contrasts of the following Menuetto:Allegro sections were beautifully balanced, with exquisitely clean woodwind playing in the Trio. The conductor and orchestra then captured wonderfully the boisterous exuberance of the closing Allegro assai, and it formed a great finale to an evening of magical music and music making.

The packed house and hugely appreciative audience must surely demonstrate that the listening public is hungry for more of this repertoire. Wellington is fortunate to have two outstanding orchestras that can do justice to this, yet concerts of this type are regrettably few and far between. Bring on more!

Brief but rewarding guitar recital at Wesley Church

Winter at Wesley Lunchtime Concert Series presents:

Guitarists Cameron Sloan and Jamie Garrick

Music by Johann Mertz, Giulio Regondi, and anon (Irish and Spanish folk-pieces)

Wesley Church, Taranaki St., Wellington

Thursday 8 August 2013

Cameron and Jamie are graduate students in the NZSM Guitar Programme. They presented a short half-hour recital of solo guitar works, starting with Jamie playing a Poetic Miniature by the Hungarian  Johann Mertz, one of the leading virtuoso guitarists and composers of the mid-nineteenth century. It was indeed a poetic interpretation, with sensitive phrasing and appropriate rubato, underpinned by a sound technique. He followed with Giulio Regondi’s Introduction and Caprice Op.23 which features two sharply contrasting movements – an elaborately embellished Adagio followed by a light-hearted Allegretto scherzando with many virtuostic effects like rapid chromatic scales, octaves, etc. These were all competently accomplished but one felt that they were uppermost in the player’s mind, whilst the shaping and structure of the two movements seemed almost forgotten, hanging somewhere in an unresolved limbo that did not grip or engage the listener.

Cameron then presented a wonderfully gentle, traditional Irish melody with sensitivity and elegance, where the only other possible enhancement would have been a wider dynamic range. He then followed with three Spanish flamenco-style pieces, all showing a very sound technical grasp. But the two outer movements needed a considerably more gutsy, less genteel rendition to fully reflect their folk origins, and the appealing melodies of the middle movement would have been even more lovely with a wider dynamic range.

The large volume of the church really called for a more projected sound on a number of occasions from both players, and this is a not uncommon situation with classical guitar student recitals. Doubtless such projection develops with greater experience and technical confidence, but it is also sound practice to do an acoustic “try-out” with feedback from an experienced ear before any concert.

Despite such minor reservations, it is hugely encouraging to see the wealth of classical guitar talent that is currently being fostered in the NZ School of Music programme. Wellington now enjoys a rich variety of recitals in this area both by professional performers like the NZ Guitar Quartet, and by the students who are learning and benefitting from them. This emerging talent needs to be fostered and encouraged, so it was disappointing to see such a small audience at this concert.

Diverting and highly accomplished lunchtime guitar quartet concert at St Andrew’s

New Zealand Guitar Quartet (Owen Moriarty, Tim Watanabe, Christopher Hill, Jane Curry)

Music by Paulo Bellinati, Manuel de Falla, J S Bach, Almer Imamovich, Rimsky-Korsakov, Inti-Illimani

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday 7 August, 12:15 pm

Whether it was quasi-musical competition from construction work outside, or a quick assessment of the likely tastes of the audience, there were changes to the programme. We did not hear Craig Utting’s Onslow College Suite. (Lyell Cresswell hasn’t so honoured my old secondary school).

Baião de Gude by Paulo Bellinati finds a surprising number of entries through Google, with numerous You-Tube performances. However, live performance is the thing; it began with the most beguiling, whispered sounds that seemed hardly possible from guitars, but it was the chorus of four guitars, I suspect, that removed the more obvious articulation sounds that usually accompany a single guitar. Though melody seemed unnecessary in the context of the impressionist washes of colour and graphic patterns, what hints of melody there were, were clearly secondary to the swift, rushing effects that most characterized the piece.

In place of the Utting piece were three pieces by de Falla, from El amor brujo: ‘Cancion del amor dolido’ (Song of suffering love), ‘Danza del terror’ (obvious) and ‘Danza ritual del Fuego’ (Ritual fire dance), offered a wonderful display of the finesse and virtuosity of the quartet, its precision and its exact positioning of rhythmic patterns.  Though the ensemble was always something to admire, the line of each guitar was always audible too. Each was skilfully arranged from the orchestral original, by Owen Moriarty, and they came across in the most idiomatic, authentic manner.

The arrangement of Bach’s Third Brandenburg Concerto was just as successful, again sounding as if Bach was writing for guitars; for there seems indeed to be a disposition in much of Bach’s music for performance on the guitar (not to mention on almost any instrument you’d like); although later in the first movement an alternating 2-note motif became a bit persistent.   Owen Moriarty here played his 7-stringed guitar, which allows an extension of a fourth (I think) below the guitar’s bottom E string; its contribution was often conspicuous, in providing richer bass sonority. The second movement (there really isn’t a middle movement) was excellently fast, its rhythms and dynamics undulating elegantly, and the expectation of closure beautifully cultivated in a diminuendo.

Almar Imamovich is a Bosnian friend of both Owen and Jane stemming from their days at the University of Southern California; he arranged Sarajevo Nights, originally for flute and guitar, specifically for and dedicated to the New Zealand Guitar Quartet. Very lively, complex rhythmically, it seemed to hold no terrors for the quartet which brought it to life, whether or not it concealed reflections on the terrible experiences of the 1990s, with obvious affection and total conviction.

It was probably no surprise that Rimsky-Korsakov’s Capriccio Espagnol proved such a success in this arrangement by W Kanengiser for guitar quartet. The 7-string guitar, here in Jane’s hands, looked after the important harp parts in this colourful and tuneful work, capturing the essence of Spain without sentimentality, or any sort of expressionist excess; their perfect ensemble was exposed for all to hear. The cadenzas that suggest the guitar, were of course particularly effective, especially in the fourth
movement, Scena e canto Gitano.  And the excitement of the end of the last movement that is generated in the orchestral original was palpable.

There was an encore, of a Tarantella by Chilean composer Inti-Illimani, transcribed by Christopher Hill, offering another fine display of fleet fingering, syncopated rhythms and a melodious central section.

This mix of arrangements of well-loved music and attractive contemporary pieces specially composed for guitar quartet makes a very satisfactory concert programme, and offers a fine opportunity to enjoy this highly accomplished, world-class ensemble, a matter that I trust New Zealand audiences understand.

 

Music and revolution take stage at Old St Paul’s

Klezmer Rebs (David Moskovitz – lead vocals, trumpet; Heather Elder – violin; Sue Esterman – accordion, vocals; Jonathan Dunn – trombone, vocals; Rose OHara – piano, vocals; David Weinstein – guitar, mandolin, vocals; Rainer Thiel – bass)

Old St Paul’s

Tuesday 6 August, 12:15 pm

This hybrid group, roughly descended from the Yiddish culture of eastern European Jewry and early jazz band traditions broke the usual pattern of (relatively) sober classical lunchtime concerts at Old St Paul’s.

Their frequent style and subject matter, congruent with their name, is revolution, booze, sex and most things in between. For example there’s the title song of their latest CD, Anarchia Total, which could well become one of the most alarming projects under the most urgently needed revision of state security measures in the Government Communications Security Bureau and Related Legislation Amendment Bill.

Lyrics and music for it were said to have been written by ‘Freedomfighters across the globe and Urs Signer’ (the group’s clarinetist who did not play this concert: I heard the word gaol in an obscure reference to his whereabouts). Anyway, I was offered the following background note to Anarchia Total: partially written in Schwyzerdütsch (Swiss German).

“Schwyzerdütsch? Even if you can’t speak it, the message is clear: For love and justice, against fascism and the police state. To the barricades everyone! Against racism and the patriarchy!  Reb Urs’s music and lyrics spread Spanish, Māori, English and Yiddish onto a Schwyzerdütsch substrate, cemented together with energetic, mad craziness.  There’s only one thing for us – Total Anarchy … Anarchia Total.”

It was a rousing performance which will doubtless swell the numbers at their training camps.

The quasi-military character of the squad was emphasized by the expropriation of elements of Royal New Zealand Navy uniform by the trumpeter/vocalist David Moskovitz, viz an officer’s hat. But to regain a military/civilian balance, there were other cultural insignia, such as the embroidered skull-cap worn by guitarist David Weinstein and the dresses worn by the women that might have suggested, variously, the hippie era or Bukovinian/Ruthenian peasant dress.

The music was in keeping: happy, irreverent, using a variety of boisterously played instruments. The trumpet and Sue Esterman’s accordion were always prominent, emphatic and feet-tapping. For several items Moskovitz took the trumpet from his lips and sang, in which pianist Rose O’Hara joined.

Guitarist Weinstein also played mandolin, which at times suggested the Greek bouzouki (to which I’m a bit addicted), as when they played the charmingly nostalgic, American-composed Flatbush Waltz. The violin of Heather Elder was rather masked during the first pieces but emerged later; I wondered whether it depended more on amplification than I would have expected.

Then there was Jonathan Dunn’s trombone which led the way into Yoshka, enjoining us: ‘Drinken Bronfen Nichten Vine’ (‘drinking whisky not wine’), an injunction supported in varying aspects by trumpet, mandolin, violin, good bass lines and some nice scooping on the accordion, with clapping in which some of the audience joined. Its character was Balkan, though to Yiddish words.

A departure from the usual Klezmer style, at least it seemed so to me, came with Moonlight, a song in Ladino (don’t confuse with the Romance language, Ladin, spoken in parts of north Italy: South Tyrol, Trentino and Belluno) the Spanish-derived language of the Sephardic Jews who were expelled from Spain under the benign reign of King Ferdinand at the end of the 15th century. With the arrival of a guest singer, Manny Garcia, and Rose O’Hara singing again, this attractive song began in Ladino but their linguistic talents were soon obvious, as I later recognized English.

Yet another example of the Jewish culture in the Latin world came with Gedenk, a tango from Argentina.

Rose sang a couple of further songs, some using pretty hand movements, Odessa Bulgar and Bublichki, before there was another urging to debauchery, a striking drinking song composed by Moskovitz and clarinetist Signer, Kumt, kumt, khaverim (Come, come friends).

Finally they checked whether there were Russian speakers in the audience; when no hands were raised, “That’s good; this is a filthy Russian song”; it was called Zvezda (Star) and when no translation was offered I had to assume that here was the compulsory hymn to sexual licentiousness. At least, the music was pretty risqué.

 

Endres wows ’em at Waikanae

Waikanae Music Society presents:
Michael Endres (piano)

SCHUBERT – Impromptus Op.142 (D.935)

CHOPIN – Barcarolle Op.60

RAVEL – Pavane pour une infante defunte / Jeux d’eau

GERSHWIN – Rhapsody in Blue (solo piano version)

Memorial Hall, Waikanae

Sunday, 2:30pm, 4th August 2013

The biographical note on pianist Michael Endres, reproduced on the back of the progranmme for his Waikanae recital, contains a number of critical responses from various parts of the world to his playing. Two of these judgements concurred exactly with my own reactions to Endres’ playing that afternoon – from a Boston newspaper came the comment that he was “one of the most interesting pianists recording today”; while the English Gramophone magazine declared that he was “an outstanding Schubert player”.

By the time Endres had finished the first of the four Impromptus Op.142 (or D.935) I was already inclining towards endorsing both statements. His playing for me gave a “freshly-minted” feel to the sounds, the music’s opening dramatic but not heavy, and the subsequent explorations a spontaneous flowing, by turns winsome and sombre.

What I particularly enjoyed was that he seemed like anything but a “right-hand” pianist. I felt he regarded the music as a tapestry whose strands at any place that was appropriate could be teased out and highlighted and given primacy in terms of the piece’s overall flow. He also brought out the wonderful “road music” quality of certain of the episodes, able to spin the melodies over long archways, with beautiful “lullabic” sounds.

Quicker with the opening of the A-flat Impromptu than either Kempff or Brendel on their respective recordings, Endres gave it a kind of folk-song-quality  rather than that of a hymn, one with a lusty, forthright chorus! – a beautiful flow was managed in the middle, like water coursing through rivulets, all nicely unmetrical and impulsive.

The third Impromptu was very like the same composer’s  Rosamunde music, playing with a real sense of listening to itself, and the variations following one another so naturally and organically. The fourth of the set was spiky and tangy, very Hungarian, I thought, characterful and flavoursome, with some wonderful “lurches” into different moods and atmospheres – incredible  swirlings, called to order by quasi-military fanfares! Endres’s playing certainly took the pieces out of the drawing room and set them in the wider, far more variegated world.

A similar kind of energy activated his performance of the Chopin Barcarolle, though I confess to preferring a more epic approach to the work than we got here – his was light and generally swift-moving, the figurations restless and volatile. I always like this music to generate a sense of journeying, of the prospect of great spaces to traverse, and of thus leaving something in reserve over the first few measures to grow into and enlarge.

However, Endres’s way was a very “here-and-now” experience, instead – the central section was swift and dramatic, splashy in places, in a way that went with the pianistic territory, of course. The agitations were even more oceanic at the opening’s return, leading up to and in the wake of the great cadential point – I thought it all too stormy for a Barcarolle, even one as epic-browed as this.  I wanted more spacious textures, moments which one could go so far as call poetic – but the pianist’s vision was of different things, which he certainly recreated with conviction.

I did like his Ravel – the famous Pavane was very boldly-presented, with a wide dynamic range and sharply-terraced contrasts (some people might have found it a bit too “iron hand in velvet glove”-like in places. He did, I thought, keep the music at arm’s length, showing little “hurt” in the sounds he made – I always think Ravel’s music much more “vulnerable” than Debussy’s in that respect. Whenever I hear this music I feel the presence of eyes looking out at the world from behind the mask, concealing the feelings; and there were the faintest touches of that tenderness here and there. By contrast, Jeux was all brilliance and no emotion, which is the ethos of the piece in any case, only the “laughter of the river-god” disturbing the equanimity – great virtuosity on the pianist’s part!  How interesting to think of Liszt’s fountains in his “Villa d’Este” piece next to Ravel’s evocations, and how much more feeling wells up from THOSE waters……..

Unexpectedly, the most disappointing item in the concert for me was the piano-only Rhapsody – it came across as somewhat “Jekyll-and-Hyde”-ish, because Endres seemed to take definite pains from the outset to differentiate between the solo piano part and the transcription of the orchestral parts. This was a good idea in theory, but in practice it resulted in his occasionally taking the music by the scruff of the neck and shaking it until bits fell off (and some did, in places!)….so, while the intent was perhaps laudable, its execution was too brusque, the music’s poetry too squeezed and its brilliance much too garbled in places.

Much of his playing, I thought, belied the title “Rhapsody” – here, some of the episodes suggested the piece ought to have been called “Toccata” or “Bacchanale”. I realise that Gershwin had to improvise some of his part at the first performance because he hadn’t finished writing it out, and so the element of spontaneity was authentic – but this was simply too ham-fisted and pugilistic an approach for me, I’m afraid, with, as I’ve said, bits dropping off the music when the going got really tough!!

But, who am I to criticise? – at the end of it, the pianist got something of a standing ovation! And I heard someone sitting near to me happily chortling, “Well, I’ve never heard Gershwin played quite like that before!” – obviously the hell-for-leather approach had as many admirers as it did doubters, if not more! It just goes to show how differently people actually HEAR music.

For myself, I’m happy to report that Endres played some more Gershwin at the concert’s end, and the results here were wrought of magic – these were, I think, exerpts from the “George Gershwin Songbook” for piano solo. Included in the selection was “The Man I Love”, “Lady Be Good” and “S’Wonderful”, plus another whose title I didn’t know. Michael Endres gave them everything that was missing, I thought, from his playing in the “Rhapsody” – here was charm, sentiment, fullness of tone, plenty of impulse and variety – so winning! – thus we ended the concert on what was, for me, a high note!

Schools chamber music contest: Auckland 3, Christchurch 3, Wellington 0, the rest 0; concern about exposure to music in schools

New Zealand Community Trust Schools Chamber Music Contest

Quartets (mainly excerpts) by George Crumb, Brahms, Marc Eychenne, Ravel, Bartók, Shostakovich and David Hamilton

Six finalists from Auckland and Christchurch

Michael Fowler Centre

Saturday, 3 August 2013, 7pm

Shouts for Shostakovich!  Some superb playing by the Sollertinsky Trio from Auckland received deserved plaudits from the audience, who demanded a second stage appearance from the Trio (they didn’t get it) – this before they had been announced as winner.

The concert featured with the first of the six finalists, selected from the twelve groups which had been in the semi-finals, on the previous day.  It was a pity that the concert had to be held in the Michael Fowler Centre, since there was a fairly small audience. Publicity for the event had only reached me a week before, so I assume that apart from teachers and parents, not many people were aware of it.  This was an event of high quality, and deserved a larger audience.

A notable fact: Asian students (Chinese, with perhaps a few Koreans) outnumbered pakeha New Zealanders 19 to 7.  Numbers were more even in the semi-finals, which seems to me to illustrate how hard Asians are accustomed to working, in this case to bring their performances up to a high standard.

First up was Vox, of Auckland, made up of flute, cello and piano – and towards the end, several crotales, or small cymbals on a stand, that were played variously by the cellist and the flutist.  Theirs was a very adventurous work: Vox Balaenae for Three Masked Players, by George Crumb (b. 1929).  He has been described as “an explorer of unusual timbres, alternative forms of notation, and extended instrumental and vocal techniques”  (Wikipedia).  His whale music
reminded me of that by Gillian Whitehead, performed in Wellington a few years ago.  However, Crumb’s work was much more elaborate.

The composer’s instruction was for the performers to wear masks, to distance themselves, from their audience.  The range of techniques was wide, including using a prepared piano (paper, metal items), the pianist sounding the strings as well as playing the keys, the flutist singing into and over-blowing her instrument.  This was a tremendously difficult composition to perform, and the extended techniques involved considerable skill.  The cello was not left out – the instrument had scordatura tuning: i.e. the strings were tuned to different notes than normal.

Whale sounds there certainly were, in multiplicity.  Some sounds fell easily on the ear, others less so.  The instruments were all amplified; Wikipedia tells me that the piece was written for electric flute, electric cello, and amplified piano.

After quite a long introduction from the flute, the piano joined in.  Some of the plucking of strings was at the pianist’s full stretch, meaning a different sound from further up the strings.  There
was some lovely ‘straight’ playing from the flute before the cello entered, playing harmonics, followed by the piano making a tinny sound from the paper over the strings.  The crotales, played
with a mallet, gave a delightful sound.  For another whale-like sound, the cellist whistled tunes from the score (which was mainly written in graph form rather than standard notation.  Quiet passages for piano, crotales and flute were succeeded by the cello playing a rhapsodic melody, who then returned to harmonics while the flutist played the crotales; mesmerising.

The assurance and reassurance of the first movement of Brahms’s Trio Op.8 sounded strange after Crumb’s whales.  This was the only nineteenth century work on the programme.  The three players of Cl’Amour from Christchurch produced lovely tone, especially the violinist.  However, they were not heard to best advantage in this vast, mainly empty auditorium.  There were beautifully shaded dynamics, especially from the pianist, who hails from Columba College in Dunedin – one wonders how frequently the three could get together for practice.

This was a pretty full-on movement for all players, but the players had a good feeling for the shape and structure of the piece.

Another trio from Christchurch (Burnside High School) played Cantilène et Danse by Marc Eychenne, an Algerian-born French composer (b. 1933) of whom I had never heard.  The work was written in 1961.  Three extremely competent musicians (violin, alto saxophone and piano) made up Trio Étoile – an apt name, given the CMNZ starry logo.  Alice Morgan, the saxophonist, is also a pianist, I noted – her name appears in the listing of another ensemble that played in the semi-finals.  She distinguished herself by winning the KBB Music prize for her group – an award for the best group incorporating a wind instrument.  (The amazing Burnside High School had four ensembles in the semi-finals, the only school to have more than one.)

The violin began the piece, in a melody accompanied on piano.  The mellifluous tone of the saxophone soon entered, with a vaguely mournful melody.  When all three instruments were together the violin was somewhat overwhelmed by the more penetrating sounds of the piano and
the saxophone.  This music was quite demanding for each instrument – but not so much so as the Crumb work.

The pianist was very confident, hardly looking at his score. The second movement was fast and furious, especially for the pianist, with jokey outbursts from the saxophone.  While the violin needed a bigger sound, these were very confident performers.  The music had rather the character of early twentieth century expressionist French music.  There was plenty of interplay between the instruments.

Another Auckland piano trio, Mentalstorm from St. Cuthbert’s College, played the first movement of Ravel’s familiar Piano Trio in A minor, from 1914.  Their intonation was immaculate, and their playing cheerful and confident, though I found the piano part somewhat over-pedalled, especially at the beginning.  Nevertheless, these were sensitive musicians, with skill and admirable technique.  They made the many moods in the music come alive, with subtlety and delicacy, and
fine balance.

The penultimate performers were Elektra, from Burnside High School, with the third movement of Bartók’s Sonata for Two Pianos and Percussion.  This involved a considerable number of instruments. Besides the two pianos, there were bass drum, cymbals, triangle, xylophone, and two side drums.  It was certainly electrifying music.  There was great co-ordination between the players.  The xylophone featured largely and delightfully.  The work incorporated Arab folk music collected by the composer, we were told by compère Kate Mead (considering the length of the programme, there was too much information in some of these introductions).  This was thoroughly enjoyable music, very ably performed.

The Sollertinsky Trio from Auckland were the last contestants to be heard. Written by Shostakovich in grief and mourning for his great friend after whom the ensemble named itself, who died in his forties, the trio was said by Kate Mead to mix glee and madness.  The players performed the second movement, Allegro con brio (“A frenzied dance that never finds a settling place” – Wikipedia) and last movement, Allegretto, which introduces a Jewish-style melody, also used in the composer’s Quartet no. 8.

The fast and furious second movement revealed a few intonation wobbles at the beginning, but its passionate nature was revealed with no holds barred.  Very soon the players proved that they are very skilled musicians.  Ray Ong (16, from Westlake Boys’ High School, Mathias Balzat (14, home-schooled) and Delvan Lin (14, from King’s College) seem to have technique and interpretation to burn.  In a radio interview with Eva Radich broadcast on Monday, they were asked how they were able to identify with such music, given their short experience of life and the music’s emotional
intensity.  Balzat answered “The more you listen to it, the more you understand it”.

What was astonishing was how the performers were able to reveal their understanding of this music.  At some points Balzat’s cello sobbed; all the players created wonderful subtleties of dynamics and phrasing.  The playing was always vigorous and confident, even in soft passages.  There was much playing well down the finger-board for the cellist, and use of harmonics.  It was notable how this young man frequently watched the violinist, and the pianist too, making for superb ensemble.  He seemed hardly to look at his score.  This was a factor that distinguished the trio from other finalists.

The fourth movement began with a pizzicato dance, in which the string players were very lively and accomplished.  There was no let-up in the music’s driving force.    Spiccato passages and the beautiful, soft pizzicato ending were absolutely together.

The bleakness of Shostakovich’s thoughts on the loss of his friend was clearly expressed. This performance was of professional standard, and the audience and the judges knew it; Sollertinsky Trio was awarded the winner’s prize.

While they were considering their decision, the winner of the New Zealand Music Award, Conspiratus from Diocesan School for Girls in Auckland, played their commissioned work Modus Vivendi by David Hamilton. This was a septet, with clarinet, bassoon, saxophone, trumpet, cello,
double bass and piano.  A spiky opening on trumpet with mute was accompanied by pizzicato cello and bass, in a syncopated rhythm.  The piece was very lively and rhythmic.  Jazz elements
featured in this thoroughly delightful work.

The players’ timing was absolutely spot on; the saxophone produced plenty of timbre and dynamic contrast, but all played splendidly.

In her brief remarks representing the judges (the others being Diedre Irons and Andrew Joyce) Bridget Douglas spoke of the maturity and technical accomplishment of the finalists.  There were two awards for composition; unfortunately neither work was performed in the concert.  I sat next to Senior winner William Swan and his father from Invercargill.  Apparently no group could be found to perform it.

The Junior winner (though the same age as William Swan and a year his senior at school) was Samuel Broome from Hastings.

The other award was the Marie Vandewart Memorial Award, in recognition of outstanding service and commitment to fostering the love of chamber music. This was won by Gillian Bibby of Wellington, a lifelong advocate, administrator and coach of chamber music. In her acceptance speech, Gillian referred to the alarming paucity of music in primary schools compared with a number of years ago, and the need to address that.  She postulated that wider education in music would be an instrument of world peace.

Other speeches were from Roger King, new chairman of Chamber Music New Zealand, Chris Finlayson, Minister for Arts, Culture and Heritage, and Kerry Prendergast, representing sponsor the New Zealand Community Trust.

While the winning group well deserved their prize, music was the winner overall, with around 1700 musicians taking part in the regional contests (15 of them).

 

Stroma, with percussionist Claire Edwardes

STROMA presents Event Horizon

Stroma, conducted by Hamish McKeich, with Claire Edwardes (percussion)

Alison Isadora: Cornish Pasty / Gyorgy Ligeti: Continuum
Jeroen Speak: Musik fur witwen, jungfrauen und unschuldige
Gerard Brophy: Coil / Steven Mackey: Micro-concerto

Ilott Concert Chamber

Thursday, 1 August 2013

Stroma’s recent concert featured works by two expatriate New Zealand composers, Jeroen Speak and Alison Isadora, both past graduates of Victoria University.

Speak, based in England, is currently in the country with his partner, Dorothy Ker, who holds the 2013-14 Lilburn House residency (Ker’s own […and…11] is scheduled for performance by Stroma at its next concert on 1 September). This August concert, Event Horizon, was named after Speak’s mini-concerto for piano and three percussionists, which in its turn was inspired by the stark paintings of Wang pan Yuan, Taiwan’s “prince of loneliness”.  As it happened, due to an insufficiency of percussionists, the eponymous work disappeared over a different event horizon – like that surrounding a black hole. In its stead, we had another composition by Speak, Musik fur witwen, jungfrauen und unschuldige (“Music for widows, virgins and innocents”, 2005) which had previously been premiered by Stroma. This proved to be a music of quietly intense, fleeting gestures (punctuated by side-drum strokes played by harpist Ingrid Bauer and violist Peter Barber), that gradually developed a sense of direction as repeated phrases hinted at an emerging underlying pulse.

Speak’s enigmatic title was drawn from that of an earlier composition, developed from a chant by Abbess Hildegard. The name of Netherlands-based Alison Isadora’s Cornish Pasty (2010) was similarly opaque (the programme note described the food, but not the music). The piece began with a starburst of sound, with tremolandos from Emma Sayers’ piano, Nick Granville’s electric guitar, and Steve Bremner’s vibraphone, creating a moving sound-object, through which melodies emerged from Rueben Chin’s and Hayden Sinclair’s soprano and tenor saxophones. Almost unrelentingly dense (in marked contrast to the sparseness of Musik fur witwen…), this composition, too, had a sense of direction and satisfying shape, gradually slowing down and thinning out after some interjections from Dave Bremner’s trombone, evolving from a texture-based piece to a predominantly rhythm-based piece.

I thought I detected some similarities here with Dutch composer Louis Andriessen (whose Zilver was performed in 2010 by SMP Ensemble under visiting conductor Lucas Vis), and also with some elements of minimalism. Continuum (1968) might have been Gyorgy Ligeti’s study in minimalism. This pulsating texture of trills and tremolandos has been played in Wellington, in its original harpsichord version, by Donald Nicolson.  Stroma’s “stereo” arrangement for marimba and vibraphone (impeccably realised by Claire Edwardes and Thomas Gulborg) had the odd (and enchanting) effect, for me, of  being “music in the head” (like the South American difference-tone flutes, demonstrated by Alejandro Iglesias-Rossi). Also affecting – and surprising – were the sustained, singing tones that were elicited from these percussive instruments.

Featured star, Claire Edwardes, performed solo in fellow Australian Gerard Brophy’s 1996 Coil, its dynamic contrasts and short, lively phrases demanding virtuoso control of the vibraphone’s pedal for both sustain and staccato effects.

American Steve Mackey’s Micro-concerto (1999) saw Edwardes take up small, hand-held instruments (such as claves, guiro, and whistle) along with the more conventional drums and vibes, for a five movement concert piece with small ensemble. The fourth movement, a warm-toned duo for Edwardes’ marimba and Rowan Prior’s cello, was especially enjoyable. The more vernacular-friendly style of both Mackey and Brophy made for a satisfying balance with the adventurous works in the first half.

Stroma’s next concert (Sunday, 1 September, 4pm, VUW Hunter Council Chamber) will feature (along with the Dorothy Ker, and former NZ resident Gao Ping), the versatile bass-baritone (and actor) Nicholas Isherwood. Last here in 2009, he performed then Stockhausen’s Havona (with electronics), and Sciarrino’s Quaderno di Strada (with Stroma). Both compositions had the uncompromising severity of late works: one was, the other not (thankfully, Signor Sciarrino is still with us). On 1 September, in “Goddess and Storyteller”, Isherwood will be performing in two dramatic vocal works by Iannis Xenakis.

Inaugural Wellington recital by accomplished violin and piano duo

Music for violin and piano
Pärt: Fratres (1977) for violin and piano
Fauré: Andante Op.75
Elgar: Sonata for violin and piano Op.82 (Allegro; Romance; Allegro non troppo)

Simeon Broom (violin) and Rachel Church (piano)

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday, 31 July 2013, 12.15pm

These two young performers were newcomers to the St Andrew’s scene, but they have played together for years, in New Zealand, Germany and the United Kingdom, and have recently returned from overseas.

Their opening item is well-known, but perhaps not in this arrangement.  The piece is technically demanding for the violinist, while the pianist repeats the theme in chords, mainly.  The violinist plays many variations upon it, some of them stratospheric.  The variations are vigorous and interesting if not, to my mind, profound.

Nevertheless, the musicians conjured up many delightful moods and effects, especially when the melody was played on violin harmonics, with the piano pianissimo, at the end.

Fauré’s Andante was not a work I knew, and was in a completely different aesthetic from the 1970s Pärt work.  It has warm-toned, human-related melody – or certainly had the way these two played it. If Pärt’s mood was somewhat depressing, Fauré’s soaring melodies soon overcame that.  It is a tribute to the violinist’s skill that he made this work sound utterly uplifting in character.  At the same time, it demonstrated the composer’s “dislike of all pretension” as the excellent programme notes stated.

Elgar’s Sonata is a substantial work, infrequently heard.  The opening movement featured wonderful changes of expression, the instruments variously extravert, winsome, and brilliant.  The moods veered from cheerful to romantic; wistful to excitable.  All of this was well managed by the performers.

The slow movement was serious, yet included bouncy figures, vaguely reminiscent of parts  of the composer’s well-loved Enigma Variations.  As a violinist himself, Elgar had an inside knowledge of how to write for the instrument.  There were interesting modulations in both parts, and a rather grandiose section before a quiet ending.

The finale conveyed a pastoral scene in its opening, then became energetic and thoughtful by turns.  All was most beautifully executed, with finely controlled dynamics. There were many enchanting melodic figures and passages.

It was pleasing to see a good-sized audience attend the concert, and enjoying such accomplished playing of a programme of comparative rarities.  Simeon Broom has recently joined the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra, and so we can perhaps look forward to hearing these two fine musicians some more.

Fine Choral Symphony from Wellington Youth Orchestra, but where’s the audience?

Beethoven: Symphony no. 9 in D minor, Op.125

Wellington Youth Orchestra, Chapman Tripp Opera Chorus, members of the Bach Choir, Madeleine Pierard (soprano), Bianca Andrew (mezzo), Derek Hill (tenor), Robert Tucker (bass), conducted by Hamish McKeich

Wellington Town Hall

Monday 29 July 2013, 7pm

The Wellington Youth Orchestra obviously works very hard, and is made up of extremely competent young musicians.  It is only two-and-a-half months since the last concert, which included a taxing Shostakovich Symphony.  Here they are again, playing Beethoven’s demanding final symphony, with choir and soloists; a considerable undertaking for a youth orchestra.

But where was the audience?  This major work has not been performed very recently in Wellington.  Perhaps people think ‘this is a kids’ orchestra – it won’t be very good’.  That is totally incorrect.  Where, though, was the advertising?  I was unaware of the concert until a few days before it happened.  I didn’t see any flyers handed out at other concerts (perhaps there were).  Here was a major choral concert, but the Wellington Regional Committee of the New Zealand Choral Federation was not notified of it, for their excellent listing emailed to choirs, giving details of forthcoming choral concerts.

Not only was the audience small; the orchestra and choir were both smaller than is usually employed for this work.  This did not matter in a less-than-half-full hall, and both lived up to expectations, on the whole.

Again, the orchestra had ‘friends and guest players’, whose names were not listed, joining to support some sections.  I noticed the NZSO’s principal double bass and others added to that section, the principal flute from the NZSO, plus a horn player, a cellist and a violist  There may have been others.

The concert began 10 minutes late – for a relatively early concert timing, this was an irritant.  However, I was soon disarmed by the playing: crisp rhythms and lively variety of dynamics were immediately apparent.  As I sat back and enjoyed the music, I thought what a great a symphony this would have been even without the choral finale.

These young musicians knew what they were doing, as the majestic first movement grew in stature – everything was given full weight.  This is not easy music, but there was no hesitancy and only a very occasional wrong note from this fine ensemble of 50-plus players.

The second movement was driven along forcefully by Hamish McKeich.  All parts were beautifully articulated in this highly dramatic scherzo.  The tempi of the movements were rather confusingly printed in the programme; suffice to say that they are 1 fast; 2  Scherzo: faster; 3 slow; 4 fast, with numerous slower bits interspersed.

The gorgeous slow introduction to the third movement, with its noble melody is followed by
variations upon it.  The playing was full of wonderful woodwind and horn ensembles.  Occasionally the pizzicato accompaniment on strings was not completely together nor loud enough, but that is a quibble; the playing was generally splendid and built up the tension marvellously well.

Beethoven’s motifs came through more than adequately – for example, the frequent pizzicato
passages for the cellos.

The final movement opened quite fast.  There was a big moment for cellos and double basses, and they performed it very well.  Then they were lucky enough to introduce the grand theme upon which the remainder of the movement is built.  The bassoon variation was played superbly.  When the violins finally got their chance, followed by the full orchestra, the music was declaimed with confidence and strength.

Beethoven’s words to introduce Ode to Joy by Friedrich Schiller were sung by Robert Tucker with plenty of power, and a rich vocal quality, although the lowest note was rather beyond his easy reach.  The other soloists were all exemplary, but their placement behind the orchestra meant a lack of volume and clarity at times.

The chorus of about 35 voices was, on the whole, impressive. However, the orchestra rather overwhelmed it at some climactic moments.  The men were strong in their passages sung without the women.  They are frequently asked to sing in a high tessitura, and those passages are spiked with chances for error, only one of which I was aware of the men falling into: shortening the word ‘muss’, thus making an unpleasant hissing noise where it was not wanted.

Tenor Derek Hill is quite slight of build, but he delivered the goods.  Bianca Andrew’s and Madeleine Pierard’s voices blended well, and were similar in timbre.

While I don’t expect the soloists to have ghastly grins on their faces, I would have thought that Ode to Joy might have evinced some appearance of happiness from the soloists, especially at the end; the women particularly looked very glum.  In some performances of the work, but not in this one, the soloists join with the chorus at the end, which seems a good idea – all the singers combining in the last great shouts of joy.

I haven’t listened to a performance of this masterwork for many years – instead, I’ve sung in it
numerous times.  This performance was uplifting – and I didn’t have to worry about whether I could reach the repeated top notes!

 

Nikolai Demidenko at Upper Hutt’s Classical Expressions

Classical Expressions, Upper Hutt presents:
Nikolai Demidenko – Carnivals and Sonatas

SCHUMANN – Carnival Jest from Vienna (Faschinsschwank aus Wien) Op.26
Carnaval – Scenes mignonnes sur quatre notes Op.9
SCHUBERT – Sonata in A D.664 / Sonata in A Minor D.748

Nikolai Demidenko (piano)

Classical Expressions Upper Hutt

Monday 29th July 2013

It was an occasion which brought home to me the refreshing reality of live music-making as opposed to the ethos presented by presentations of the artist “on record”. I had not previously heard Nikolai Demidenko in the concert-hall (though he’s been to New Zealand before), encountering him only through recordings.

It wasn’t so much what I’d heard that surprised me, as what I imagined the artist would be like. Photographs of the pianist seemed to suggest some kind of wild, intense, volatile spirit, aloof, uncompromising and ultra-romantic in a kind of “Wuthering Heights” sense. And, of course, the music he seemed to carry a particular torch for – that of Nikolai Medtner’s – itself had a similar aura – enigmatic, exotic and slightly out of the mainstream.

So, I was preparing myself for the entrance of some kind of Dostoyevskian figure, when a dapper, bearded, bespectacled man walked quickly, even a little nervously, onto the platform and bowed courteously to his audience – he had a somewhat ruddy complexion and his hair was reddish-brown, or appeared so in the light. Surely – surely not? – was this my wild, uncompromising, romantic artist from the land of the endless steppes? How could this be? It wasn’t long before Demidenko’s actual playing restored some of my equanimity, conveying to me (in a way that his initial appearance certainly didn’t) plenty of the volatility, energy and grand manner that I was expecting.

He began, at first none too commandingly, with Robert Schumann’s Carnival Jest in Vienna (Faschingsschwank aus Wien), ever-so-slightly smudging the treacherous opening flourishes; but his playing soon settled – his tones deepened and his focus sharpened. In between the fanfare-like reprises of the opening were beautifully-contrasted interludes, one of which was a delicious “strutting” rhythm, which eventually built up to a defiant quote of the opening of La Marseillaise (the song had been banned by the Austrian censor) – Demidenko hurled the tune forth with the greatest of gusto.

The suite of movements has plenty of variety; and Demidenko gave us essences of each one in turn – the fanciful dream-world of the Romanze was followed by the gaily-spirited, repetitive “skip” of the Scherzino, with its alternations of playfulness and pageantry. Then came the darker purpose of the Intermezzo, all swirling agitation at the outset, but with the pianist superbly delineating the individual currents so as to allow the embedded melody to sing forth – great playing!

After this the finale’s opening exploded with energy, causing Demidenko’s fingers to momentarily “jump the rails” (it all added to the excitement!) – it was, like Sviatoslav Richter’s playing on his famous “live” Italian recording of the piece, extremely forceful, “free-wheeling pianism” as one might put it, but exactly what the music itself suggested – Schumann at his most exuberant.

There was more of the same kind of excitement and enthusiasm throughout Demidenko’s playing of Carnaval, that fantastical procession of characters, both make-believe and from among the composer’s own friends and colleagues. Demidenko’s view of this “portrait-gallery” was as absorbing as any I’ve heard, right from the beginning, with his grand and rhetorical Préambule, and – playing for maximum contrast – fascinatingly halting and nervous Pierrot, leading to a teasing, mercurial (if none too accurately-played) Arlequin!

To go through the work and give Demidenko credit for every single moment of illumination of Schumann’s wonderful writing would tax the reader’s patience to excess – nevertheless, one must make mention of the pianist’s ghostly evocation of the rarely-played Sphinxes, a brief kind of “appendix” to the Coquette/Replique sequences, which Schumann didn’t intend to be performed, even if luminaries such as Rachmaninov, Cortot, Horowitz and Gieseking chose to include it in their recordings, for our delight.

Usually it’s the final section of the work, the Davidsbundler putting the Philistines to flight, which guarantees plenty of keyboard thrills – but Demidenko cut loose earlier with Paganini, Schumann’s tribute to the violinist’s overwhelming presence and virtuosity – a veritable onslaught, with cascades of notes, leaving us all open-mouthed with astonishment! The Davidsbundler triumph at the end thus had a slightly less “death-and-glory” and more ritualistic aspect to its energies, as much a summing-up as an actual coup de grace stroke, the piano tones properly rich and satisfying.

In the second half, Schubert’s A Major Sonata D.664 was balm to the senses after Schumann’s invigorations! Here was another side of Demidenko’s pianism, one of lyrical poetry, the player bringing out both the music’s weight and its weightlessness, the contrasts bound together with the same ease of flow. Schubert was able to bear us away upon the wings of whatever mood he chose to explore, sometimes setting tranquility and anxiety cheek-by-jowl, as in the first movement’s sounding of bass figurations beneath the filigree treble ones at the recapitulation, and the second movement’s melancholy darkening after the rich loveliness of the opening.

Demidenko brought out the “bigness” rather than the drawing-room aspect of the finale, contrasting the prettiness of the opening theme with great rolling colonnades of sound serving as flourishes between the lyrical moments – these purposeful energies dominated the central section of the movement, and playfully vied with the melodic impulses right at the end – an approach which arrested and held, rather than stretched out one’s attention, right to the final chords.

In some ways the previous work’s antithesis, the A Minor Sonata D.784 which followed began as it meant to go on, with furrowed brow and grim forward motion, then plunging into agitated figurations involving cascading octaves and heart-stopping sforzandi tremolandos.

Demidenko preferred urgency to portentousness throughout, but wonderfully controlled all of the different dynamic levels of the various statements, so that each had a slightly different “weight” of character. In places I thought he pushed the music too fast, as with the arrival of the resplendent fanfares at the climax of the development, where the effect was a shade brusque rather than truly climactic – but the agitato element was certainly maintained, if at the expense of some of the music’s “haunted” stillness.

The pianist gave us an exquisitely-voiced melodic line at the slow movement’s beginning, before allowing the shadow of the twisted chromatic figure to darken the ambience and hold it in thrall. I liked the heartfelt surge of feeling mid-movement, as well as the lyrical response, the opening theme taking flight as it were, trying to escape those chromatic growlings in the bass – all very exploratory and wonderful!

As for the finale, under Demidenko’s fingers it became a whirling dervish of a movement, weaving together strands of panic, nervousness, determination and wide-eyed exhilaration – the pianist got plenty of glint in some of his flourishes and a real “ring” on the tone of his topmost notes, making up for some occasional fumbling of the syncopation in the midst of the excitement. The music’s second subject was a poor, consoling thing, easily swept away on the recurring tide, its uneasy calm already “spooked” by the music’s sudden irruptions of desperation, which die as quickly as they appear.

After the return of the wretched, consoling theme the music erupted for the last time, with extra weight and emphasis, perhaps the most desultory ending of any of the composer’s sonatas for piano. What strife, what trouble, and what grim resolve! Fortunately Demidenko redeemed our troubled spirits with a couple of encores, firstly a Chopin Nocturne, giving its melody a deliciously wayward trajectory, and then a stirring piece by Medtner – whose music the pianist has magnificently and resolutely championed over the years. The music sounded like it was a first cousin to one of the Rachmaninov Etude-Tableaux – and Demidenko’s playing of it brought the house down.