Two masterpieces of the violin repertoire at Old St Paul’s

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Valerie Rigg (violin) and Mary Barber (piano)

Beethoven: Violin Sonata No 1 in D, Op 12 No 1
Brahms: Violin Sonata No 2 in A, Op 100
Sarasate: Malagueña 

Old Saint Paul’s, Mulgrave Street

Tuesday 13 August, 12:15 pm

Wellington’s music scene is generously endowed with musicians young and old who are prepared to give their time and devote some effort to enriching the lives of those disposed to be enriched by good music, music that had stood the test of time (which I think is the best way of defining the meaning of ‘classical’).

Though, as the education system no longer regards the furnishing of young minds and souls with music of this kind, as one of the most important functions, those who can tell the difference between the lasting and the ephemeral are disappearing.

I recently came across a quote that is pertinent: “Few people mind saying they have a bad memory but no one admits to having bad taste.” Guess that’s a bit meaningless to most of the educational and political establishment.

Valerie Rigg and Mary Barber know, however, and the few score who come to sit under the beautiful gothic timber arches of this most beautiful of New Zealand churches probably know why they’re there too.

In the past Valerie Rigg has explored some of the less familiar masterpieces of the repertoire such as violin sonatas by Janáček and Prokofiev. This week she and Mary Barber chose to get back to the very heartland of the violin repertoire, with Beethoven and Brahms, as well as a classic of the ‘encore’ variety by Spanish virtuoso Sarasate.

The first movement of Beethoven’s first violin sonata seems designed to provide the violinist with plenty of arresting, exhortatory pronouncements, much given to scales and arpeggios, and Rigg entered its spirit wholeheartedly. In the slow movement, an Andante and not an Adagio, in Theme and Variations form, the violinist’s playing matched the wide range of expressive variety, and the charming episodes for the piano were handled gracefully by Mary Barber. A similar spirited and confident tone brought the last happy, lyrical movement to life, with little sign of declining facility on the part of the violinist.

In Brahms second violin sonata there was a tendency for the violin to drive a bit hard though it never risked overwhelming the pianist’s part, which itself is so rewarding.  What was always clear was the
enjoyment felt by both players, perfectly self-effacing in their exploring the gentleness and modesty of the music.  What touched me particularly was the readiness of this retired, fine professional violinist to maintain her facility in the challenging music she tackles, and to perform freely in these enterprising
concerts for the edification of the faithful audiences. Many of her orchestral colleagues retire from their posts and abandon music almost entirely.

The players explored sensitively a certain hesitant air in the second movement, punctuated by sudden impulsive Vivace moments, which created a feeling of simplicity and affection; and again in the Allegretto last movement, a contemplative approach at the beginning was never quite banished. Even though there were blemishes in the piano part, rather more than one might have expected, the technical assurance and spirit of the violin carried it to happy conclusion.

The recital ended with the Malagueña of Sarasate, not one of the dances of huge energy from Andalusia, but one rather irregular in rhythm, though it does permit touches of flamboyance. So it began, decorously, but I had a 1pm date and had to leave after a minute or so.

The major pieces in the programme had been enough to make the journey worthwhile, and I look forward to Valerie Rigg’s next recital with whichever of her repertoire of pianists she invites to join her.

 

SMP Ensemble plays Contag for “The Crowd”

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Forty-second Wellington Film Festival 2013 presents:

The Crowd

Silent Film with live score performed by SMP Ensemble

Composer: Johannes Contag
SMP Ensemble conducted by Karlo Margetic

Paramount Theatre,  Courtenay Place, Wellington

Sunday 11 August 2013

This film dates from 1928 and is in the timeless tradition of Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton. It was written and directed by King Vidor, and the score was commissioned by Creative NZ from young Wellington composer Johannes Contag. The 12-piece SMP Ensemble comprised a handful of strings, flute, clarinets (including bass), bassoon, percussion and piano, a selection which gave Contag a varied colour palette to work with, and the tools he needed to support the wide sweep of settings, emotions and characters depicted in the film.

The composer comments of the film that “Despite being received very well at the time, its bold modernism and systemic cultural critique defy most Hollywood tropes. Already an enormously successful director, King Vidor had the rare privilege of flouting studio expectations, and consequently there’s not a single hero or villain to be found here. Instead, we are treated to an engaging dissection of everyday city life, one that refuses to succumb to the predictabilities of comedy and tragedy alike. What really makes The Crowd a delight to watch is its underlying love story……..It is in its astute depiction of the romantically mundane that The Crowd wins us over, making us care for the underdog despite his follies.”

King Vidor’s film is a poignant drama of a charming but all-too-fallible dreamer and the exasperated woman who loves him unconditionally and never gives up on him through thick and thin. The dramatic range of this screenplay presents an enormous challenge for the composer – almost two hours of non-stop music for scenes that encompass the dreamer’s gentle rural upbringing, the shock of a parent’s premature death, the heady thrill of setting off to seek his fortune in New York, the grinding reality of employment as a pen-pushing clerk in a vast office, then the romantic encounter that drives the remainder of the plot.

Each of these settings was sympathetically handled in Contag’s score, with the frenetic pace of New York life being perfectly captured in his Twenties-style ragtime idioms. The colour of the score more than compensated for the 35mm Black and White medium which seems so spare to modern viewers. The scoring for the courtship and honeymoon scenes trod a masterly knife edge between the extremes of lust and tenderness, with never a hint of predictable banality. The central part of the screenplay covers the mundane realities of daily work and commuting, and the monotony of suburban life for the stay-at-home wife and children. This called for essentially background music but, given that,  I nevertheless felt that Contag’s writing here was somewhat short on melodic, rhythmic and  tonal variety. It became rather pedestrian compared with the earlier score but, that said, his sense of drama was still keenly expressed in his very effective use of silence at key dramatic moments.

The latter part of the screenplay covers the increasing pressures on the marriage that result from the heartrending death of their daughter – a catastrophe which catapults the husband into a reckless decision to quit his pen-pushing job. Contag captured the poignancy of grief and crippling self doubt with great sympathy, together with the agonized indecision of a wife who still unswervingly loves her man, but has finally reached the end of her tether. When their fortunes finally seem to be recovering, the score sashays effortlessly into a conclusion filled with the brighter moods of optimism and hope.

Bouquets are due to the Film Archive and Creative NZ for putting their efforts and funding into this very successful collaboration between the composer, the Wellington Film Festival, and the local SMP Ensemble, who did such justice to the score. Together they made possible the only live performance of this year’s festival, and the fact that the house was sold out well in advance demonstrates the soundness of backing this endeavour. Hopefully this will be just one of many similar collaborations in the future.

 

 

 

 

Polished and admirable performances of trios for flute, cello and piano

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Mulled Wine Concerts, Paekakariki

The Homewood Trio (Bridget Douglas – flute, Andrew Joyce – cello, Rachel Thomson – piano)

Haydn: Trio in F for flute, cello and piano, No 1, Hob XV:17 (No 30 in the Robbins Landon list of all the trios)
Charles Lefebvre: Ballade for flute, cello and piano
Villa-Lobos: The Jet Whistle
Philippe Gaubert: Trois aquarelles (Three Water-colours)
Martinů: Trio for flute, cello and piano

Paekakariki Memorial Hall

Sunday 11 August, 2:30pm

A relatively unusual ensemble usually calls up music that is similarly off the beaten track, and this was no exception.

The best known name was Haydn, though the piece would probably have been known almost only to flutists and those who happened to have a 2003 CD on the Concordance label by three Wellington musicians, Penelope Evison (6-keyed flute), Euan Murdoch (classical cello) and Douglas Mews (fortepiano). They recorded all three of Haydn’s flute trios using period instruments, most distinctively Douglas Mews on Victoria University’s fortepiano.

Haydn wrote these three piano trios in 1790 with the treble part scored for the flute instead of the violin. They are numbered 28, 29 and 30 by Haydn scholar H C Robbins Landon, and are nos 15, 16 and 17 in the Hoboken catalogue. Both catalogues include them among the total of some 45 works for piano trio.

If that had been a somewhat too scrupulous attempt at authenticity, so lacking much robustness, this performance on a Schimmel piano and modern flute and cello, made few gestures in that direction. The piano opened boldly and the flute had all the marks of modern orchestral sound, though acknowledging the habits of the ‘classical’ period through a fluent range of sparkling ornaments. The cello’s role was confined mainly to the doubling of the piano bass line.  In total, the players paid full attention to the music’s formal shapes, the modulations and changes of tone, the variations, and the teasing pauses and phantom closures and the whole work emerged as a great deal more substantial than might have been imagined. Haydn is predictable only in his delight in the unpredictable.

Flutist Bridget Douglas explained how she had come across the score of Charles Lefebvre’s Ballade among a collection that had belonged to long-standing NZSO principal flute, Richard Giese. Lefebvre was not a major French composer, a near contemporary of Massenet and Fauré, but there was no doubt, listening to the affectionate and studied playing by these musicians, that even a merely competent piece can become delightful and interesting in imaginative hands. All three determined to find the maximum enjoyment and interest in the music, the cello in particular catching my ear in quite striking passages. It deserves to be more played in contexts such as this.

Brazilian Villa-Lobos wrote a lot of music for unusual combinations and The Jet Whistle, for flute and cello, is a good example of his originality and quirkiness, some might say eccentricity. Its first movement is much given to endlessly repeated notes and gestures that can strike one as time-filling; the second movement is allowed to be more lyrical and again the players accorded it a degree of attention and care that rewarded its listening. It’s most famous for the build-up in the third movement of a screeching whistle from the flute, simulating the sound of a jet aircraft preparing for take-off on the tarmac. Last time I heard it, Bridget Douglas (I think it was) was in a space that allowed her to let rip with the final shriek that might do significant hearing damage; she was a little more restrained this time.

Philippe Gaubert was another rather minor French composer of a generation later than Lefebvre, born in 1879 (c.f. the wrong date in the programme). He was primarily a flutist during an age when the flute
was extremely popular, so most of his not inconsequential compositions are for that instrument. His Three Water-colours depict three scenes:  ‘On a clear morning’, ‘Autumn evening’ and ‘Serenade’.

Though not likely to be mistaken for Debussy, Gaubert cannot help being influenced by him or Ravel, his greater contemporaries; the morning music ripples with arpeggios, dreamy, seeming to flow effortlessly from his pen; the evening creates a more sombre mood though I can’t claim that my mind was filled with crepuscular imagery; a Spanish feel enters in the third water-colour, with more distinct atmospheric and rhythmic changes. Even if Gaubert is no Ravel, his music is listenable and charming, emerging without marks of great toil such as to tax the listener.

Martinů was hugely prolific; much of his music is so characterful and marked by such vivid melody and insistent rhythms, that it is memorable and commands more attention than most of the other music heard this afternoon. I have known this trio for years though cannot recall where heard, and a rehearing only confirmed my affection for it.

A friend and I reflected sadly on the fact that we could recall none of Martinů’s six attractive symphonies being played in this country.

The music plunges straight into passages of clear, well-constructed themes and their varied repetition, the flute typically soaring over other busy motifs from cello and piano. The second movement seemed to fall somewhat into a repetitive routine though it recovered charm towards its end. Its last movement starts misleadingly: the flute with a slow solo statement. But there’s a sudden bursting into life with the arrival of a moto perpetuo which eventually comes to an almost Haydn-like stop, only to resume in a meditative, exploratory phase. It leads to a coda in which an insistent rhythmic motif takes hold and builds to a finish that is positively exciting in a way that little post-WW2 music is.

 

Expansion of review of Il Corsaro, published by London’s Opera magazine

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Il Corsaro (Verdi)

Production by the New Zealand School of Music, conducted by Kenneth Young and directed by Sara Brodie

Soloists, chorus and orchestra of the School of Music

The Opera House, Wellington

Friday 26 and Saturday 27 July 2013

This is a review of the New Zealand School of Music’s July production of Verdi’s Il Corsaro. Its core is my review for Opera magazine in London; it was printed in the December issue, and was posted on this website in mid December.  I decided to publish here what I had written, since it was a good deal more than the magazine was able to print, and have placed it chronologically about a fortnight after the performances. Frances Robinson’s review was published at the time on this website.

My colleague Nicholas Tarling, in Auckland, drew attention in the August issue [of Opera magazine] to the failure by Opera New Zealand to tackle a planned Billy Budd this year as New Zealand’s acknowledgement of the Britten centenary. Verdi was evidently not even on the horizon, since there’s enough exposure in ordinary seasons to the popular pieces.

But in Wellington, the auspices for 2013 pointed rather firmly to Verdi as the New Zealand School of Music’s biennial production (Britten had been honoured in 2011 with an enchanting production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream; and Wagner might have seemed a little beyond the school’s ordinary resources). The head of the school, Professor Elizabeth Hudson, earned her doctorate at Cornell University with a dissertation on Verdi and she was later asked to prepare the critical edition of Il Corsaro for the University of Chicago Press and Ricordi. This production was the happy fruit of that circumstance.

Unsurprisingly, this was the New Zealand premiere; I had thought it might also have been an Australasian premiere, but I later discovered, by accident, that the semi-professional Melbourne City Opera had staged it in 2006.

Apart from an interesting little essay in the programme booklet about the problems of settling on the best possible edited version of the piece, Elizabeth Hudson refrained from direct involvement in the production.

Instead of performing in one of the venues in the school of music itself, the production was brought down town into Wellington’s ‘other’ round-1900 era, Opera House which, both nights I attended, was comfortably filled, apart from the top gallery. (It’s slightly smaller than the 1500-seat St James Theatre where professional opera in Wellington is usually staged).

Il Corsaro is one of Verdi’s shorter operas – about one hour and forty minutes – and the scope of the roles looked manageable by capable students. Such was the talent on hand that the four main roles were double cast to spread the opportunities around. On successive nights (26 and 27 July) I saw both casts.

Stage director Sara Brodie did not resist the temptation to get Byron on stage in a mute role at the start and a couple of times later. Otherwise, there were no directorial liberties or indulgences. If at first glance the story in Byron’s poetic drama is pretty straight-forward, the stage reality uncovers a story of some originality. It overturns the common shibboleth that women are always the victims in opera: for Gulnara, Pasha Seid’s favourite in his harem, murders him in order to save the captured Corsair, Corrado, to whom she is attracted. And at the end she is the only one of the four principals left alive; something of a victory for feminism in the 19th century!

Though double cast, there was no question that the first was better than the second: on average, the levels of talent and accomplishment were balanced between the two casts. One of the two Corrados, Thomas Atkins, sang with a little more swagger and command than Oliver Sewell whose voice was perhaps a little more polished and lyrical.

Both Medoras easily conveyed a fragility and an archetypical romantic disposition towards suicide: Elizabeth Harris in cast No 1 was a little more natural in the role than Daniela-Rosa Cepeda, in the second; though the latter suggested a tenderness that was touching.

The Gulnara was really a no contest, given the extraordinary gifts, musical and histrionic assurance, of Isabella Moore who has already made an impact nationally in non-student performances and competitions. Her alternate, in Cast 2, Christina Orgias, presented a somewhat less determined and murderous disposition, which lent the confrontations with Pasha Seid less conviction.

The two Seids were more even, with the Frederick Jones of Cast No 2, exhibiting just a little more
authority in both voice and acting than Christian Thurston.

The choruses were among the best things. Though there were too few pirates in the opening chorus to
make an immediate impact on the audience, the later mixed choruses were more full-blooded and showed evidence of excellent coaching both musically and in stage movement; and their frequent mélées and the Act III battle demonstrated director Sara Brodie’s flair in crowd control and at least in the general choreographic aspects of the sword conflicts between pirates and guardians of the harem.

The musical management was in the hands of Kenneth Young, among the country’s leading resident conductors; the 55-piece orchestra may have been a shade less than professional, though there was much distinguished playing and the needs of the singers and of the drama itself were splendidly served.

 

Mozart from the NZSO – magical music and music-making

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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

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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

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

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

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

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

Posted on by Peter Mechen

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

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

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).