Tag: chamber music

Aroha Quartet fills the Futuna Chapel with impressionist and colouful music

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Aroha Quartet (Haihong Liu and Blythe Press – violins, Zhongxian Jin – viola, Robert Ibell – cello)

Shostakovich: Two Pieces for String Quartet
The White Haired Girl by Yan Jinxuan, arranged for string quartet by Zhu Jian’er and Shi Yongkang
Debussy: String Quartet in G minor

Futuna Chapel, Friend Street, Karori

Sunday 3 November, 2pm

Prefatory note: The Aroha Quartet leave in December for their second tour to China where they will play in the spectacular new Xinghai Concert Hall in Guangzhou, and to Zhongshan. They will have with them works from six countries including China and New Zealand.

This initiative, the Sunday concert series at the Futuna Chapel, to make good use of an architectural gem that was saved from the attentions of developer/vandals a decade ago, began last year and shows every sign of survival and even flourishing. The disposition of seating is perhaps not ideal, and one’s normal expectation of the shape of a church needs a little adjustment: which part is the nave and which a transept or alcove? Seats/pews are placed at right-angles with the ‘sanctuary’ at the place of convergence. A slab-like ‘altar’ occupies most of the raised sanctuary which means musicians sit at floor level with impaired visibility from back rows.

But the sounds, which are actually the main thing in music after all, are clear and full.

The players had set us a little test. We all listened sympathetically to the first piece in the programme: the Chinese string quartet arrangement, presumably. My notes commented on the fact that even in the period of the Second World War as the Japanese were steadily devastating and slaughtering both soldiers and hundreds of thousands of civilian people, there was little outward sign of a distinctive Chinese flavour, let alone anguish, in the rather gentle music; and the first episode ended with a long warm note on the viola.

But then a second part continued with spiky, pizzicato, satirical sounding, like a polka. Ah!!! I know this – it’s Shostakovich; they are playing his Two Pieces for String Quartet first.  The first piece is the elegy that Katerina was to sing in the opera Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk, lamenting her boring life; it came to the stage in 1934 with an infamous sequel. Though I’ve seen the opera three times over the years, I didn’t recognize it.  The second piece, a Polka from the 1930 ballet, The Age of Gold, composed before the evils of Stalinism had reveled themselves; it is a satire of the decadence of capitalism and Western politics. Shostakovich made the arrangement in 1931 for the Vuillaume Quartet (Vuillaume was a most famous, 19th century French luthier); long before Shostakovich had written his first string quartet.

So we came to The White Haired Girl. Haihong Liu introduced it and Robert Ibell took us through the musical motifs that mark the various episodes: a tale of a poor young girl, persecuted by the cruel landlord but eventually rescued by the Red Army which was fighting the Japanese invaders.

The White-Haired Girl (Bái Máo Nǚ) is a Chinese opera and ballet, the music by Yan Jinxuan; later it was adapted to ‘Beijing Opera’ and for a film. The first opera performance was in 1945; the film was made in 1950; the first Beijing Opera performance was in 1958 and the first ballet performance by Shanghai Dance Academy, in 1965.

I should really not have mistaken the first piece in the concert. We have reviewed it previously. Peter Mechen wrote a review of a performance at St Andrew’s in October 2010 and I reviewed one in June 2012 at Paekakariki. Accordingly, it was no surprise that the quartet handled it confidently, making no apology for its distinct European musical characteristics, while weaving the Chinese elements colourfully and idiomatically. The musical narrative is based on motifs representing episodes of the story: the north wind, the red ribbon, day turning to night, joining the Eighth Route Army (against the Japanese invaders) and so on. Unlike the typical western classical string quartet, the individual instruments seemed to be expected to draw attention to themselves without ostentation, and it allowed viola and cello, especially, to shine. Certain effects lent themselves predictably to a film sound-track: marked dynamic contrasts, tremolo effects for moments of alarm or terror, sudden fortissimo chords depicting violence.

Though it might sound a bit unsophisticated to some western ears, its success within the idiom and musical culture of China was clear, as was the comfortable manner of its performance.

At their Mulled Wine concert at Paekakariki last year the Aroha Quartet also played the Debussy quartet.  I would be less than honest if I pretended to claim that their performance here was better or worse than last year’s: I don’t remember as well as that. This was simply extremely comfortable and idiomatic, sounding at once spontaneous and thoroughly ingested.

Their dextrous dynamics always reflected the sense of the music; in the second movement long-breathed, summery violin strokes alternated with the lively rhythms generated by pizzicato. They players understood what Debussy meant by Andantino, doucement: it was almost breathless, quite still, with a beguiling melody launched on the viola and passed on to the others in turn, and became a kind of recitative, flowing absent-mindedly, without bar lines.

The fourth movement began very quietly, rather more modéré than that word might suggest, but it simply increased the delight as the mood livened a couple of minutes later, becoming warm and opulent.

 

String students from the School of Music gain public performance experience

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Undergraduate string students of the New Zealand School of Music:

Music by Bach, Beethoven and Shostakovich

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday 23 October, 12:15 pm  

Even when great music is not played by top musicians with immaculate technical skill, it can be warmly delightful.

Regulars who enjoy Wellington’s various free (or nearly free) lunchtime concerts are not simply those who can’t tell the difference between the good and nearly good. They just love the music. This was one of the occasions when almost all the playing was both technically accomplished and, more importantly, played with love and understanding.

Caitlin Morris opened with the Prelude to Bach’s First Cello Suite. Her playing tended to lengthening of certain notes to a slightly exaggerated degree, but her handling of dynamics was careful and sensitive to the inner spirit of the music.

Violist Aidan Verity played an adaptation for her instrument of the Allemande and Courante from the Fourth Cello Suite, in E flat. Not quite as well mastered (there was a wee stumble in passing from the one movement to the next which clearly affected her confidence), she made a convincing case for the work’s performance on the viola, and her programme note points to a recent scholarly view that Bach may have been writing for the slightly smaller violoncello da spalla.

Most impressive, perhaps of the three solo performances was Julian Baker’s playing of Sarabande and Gigue from Bach’s solo Violin Partita in D minor. The Sarabande was spacious and well paced though some of the rhythmic ornaments might not have been handled with perfect elegance, but the Gigue was confident and fast, impressing with the confidence with which it maintained its speed, and managing very well the ticklish decorative rhythms.

The two other items involved more than one player. Beethoven’s Romances are not, I suspect, as familiar today as once they were. (My early acquaintance with the F major Romance, Op 50, may not have been typical. I indulge a reminiscence…  In my upper sixth year (now year 13) year I had an August holiday job with the late and lamented Wellington Competitions (1970s R.I.P.), part assistant stage managing and part assisting the adjudicator in the gallery of the old, upstairs Concert Chamber of the pre-rearranged Town Hall. He was John Longmire, minor English composer and pianist, and friend and biographer of John Ireland. This Romance was performed more than once by competing violinists and I was in love with it.  Anyway…)

Violinist Alina Junc and pianist Choong Park did a charming job with it, occasional slips in the violin’s handling of ornaments and intonation notwithstanding. The pianist maintained her partnership in sympathy with the violin; it was not altogether clear to me why the slightly enigmatic end missed its mark, but let me hope that this performance might encourage its resuscitation in general affection.

The last movement, Allegretto, of Shostakovich’s Piano Trio, Op 67, was played by Junc and Park together with cellist Xialing. As other performers had done, Alina spoke helpfully about the piece before starting with the staccato and pizzicato gestures, sensitively and confidently.  It became a highly impressive demonstration of the three players’ grasp of the work’s background and inspiration, the lamenting Slavic melody becoming a powerful climax expressing pain and grief.  The audience were in no doubt that they were hearing a performance of great conviction and power, and the trio were loudly applauded.

 

Fine artistry and insight by Duo Cecilia, cello and piano duo

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Duo Cecilia (Lucy Gijsbers – cello and Andrew Atkins – piano)

Beethoven: Seven Variations on ‘Bei Männern, welche Liebe fühlen’ from The Magic Flute
Rachmaninov: Cello Sonata, Op 19, Third movement – Andante
Paul Ben-Haim: Canzona
Schumann: Fantasiestücke, Op 73
Debussy: Cello Sonata

St Mark’s Church, Lower Hutt

Wednesday 16 October, 12:15 pm

Lucy Gijsbers is in her master’s year and Andrew Atkins the third year of his B Mus at the New Zealand School of Music. Both have already distinguished themselves in competition and academic achievement. Lucy has played as soloist with orchestras as well as being principal cello in both the NZSM and the National Youth orchestras.

Each took turns introducing the pieces they played: both needed to be more aware of the need to properly project their voices. But they had little to learn about projecting the music they played. Their launching the recital with Beethoven’s delightful variations on ‘Bei Männern’ was a coup, as it offered the audience the chance to hear both their mastery of the notes, as well as expressive niceties. The opening was a display of darting, varied dynamics, changing with delightful aplomb from bar to bar.

The duo created the impression of playing the parts, each entirely engrossed in their own view of the music and what they were doing with it. Yet when I paid attention to the combined sound, the ensemble was excellent, listening to each other and responding to each other’s accents and turns of phrase; nothing uniformly bland.

The slow 6th variation revealed the players’ beautifully controlled tone with restrained vibrato, and the last variation announced the imminent ending by giving special emphasis to principal phrases.

On 4 October in the Adam Concert Room of the New Zealand School of Music I heard Inbal Megiddo and Jian Liu give an illuminating performance of Rachmaninov’s Cello Sonata. These players played the slow movement of it. To focus on a single movement is often a quite different experience: it opens with a long, seductive piano introduction, a beautiful melody, intensely meditative; Rachmaninov gives quite a lot of solo playing to the piano and that, far from seeming to obscure the cello’s significance, drew
increased attention to its more sparingly expressed contributions. Gijsber’s playing was exquisite.

Paul Ben-Haim was a leading Israeli composer of the earlier 20th century. The single movement, which I think Atkins said (both he and Lucy spoke too quietly) came from a cello concerto, which is listed in an internet site as having been written in 1962. It speaks in a coherent tonal language, though its character struck me as having emerged from the climate of the second half of the 20th century, as well as containing well integrated marks of Middle Eastern sounds. I’m not aware of hearing Ben-Haim’s music before and this induces me to explore.

Schumann’s three Fantasy Pieces, Op 73 are among the most played cello pieces; if played as they were here, by musicians who approach them with liveliness and without any sense of having to justify over-familiar music. They are delightful, spontaneous pieces, far from easy to bring off. Most effective were the charming narrative sense of the first movement, Zart und mit Ausdrück, and the third movement Rasch und mit Feuer which opened with almost frightening attack, typical Schumannesque impulsiveness with a calmer middle section where the cello called attention with her well-chosen stresses on certain notes at the top of phrases. The piano’s role was distinguished throughout the recital but seemed to rise to special heights in the formidable accompaniments of these pieces.

A couple of weeks earlier I’d heard Andrew Joyce and Diedre Irons play Debussy’s Cello Sonata in a Wellington Chamber Music concert and here it was again. Debussy told somebody that he was dissatisfied with the work, his second to last as he struggled with cancer during the First World War, but I doubt whether many of today’s listeners find it unsatisfying. It’s short and compressed and unsentimental; and while it’s a work that could hardly have been written a decade earlier, it does not pay direct attention to the radical innovations that the Schoenbergs and Stravinskys were introducing. These young players approached it as if they’d been living with it for years in their technical mastery and ease with the musical idiom, but judging by the spontaneity and freshness of the performance, it sounded as if they’d just discovered it.

Once again, here was evidence of the wealth of wonderful music-making to be enjoyed for free (or nearly) in many parts of greater Wellington.

 

Remembering Katherine Mansfield 125 years on

Posted on by Peter Mechen

MUSIC AND FRIENDSHIP

Katherine Mansfield and Arnold Trowell

A concert to commemorate the 125th anniversary of Katherine Mansfield’s birth

Music by Dvořák, Popper, Goltermann, Trowell and Boëllmann

Martin Griffiths (‘cello) / Eleanor Carter (piano) / Fiona Oliver (speaker)

Saint John’s in the City

Te Aro, Wellington

Friday 11th October 2013

Music and Friendship was a commemoration of the 125th anniversary of author Katherine Mansfield’s birth, an evening of music and recitation, held at St.John’s Church in Wellington Central. Welcoming people to the event was Marion Townend, whose obviously sterling efforts regarding the funding, organization and promotion of the concert had brought it all about. Joining her in the venture were two talented musicians, Martin Griffiths (cello) and Eleanor Carter (piano), along with Alexander Turnbull Library curator Fiona Oliver, who read exerpts from Mansfield’s letters, journals and stories.  As Mansfield was also a keen amateur musician, it seemed appropriate to intermingle music and words by way of commemorating the anniversary.

Further linking Mansfield with music was her friendship with members of the Trowell family, prominent in Wellington music circles at the time of the author’s early years – as seemed to be the norm with Mansfield’s interactions with people in general, the picture is a complex one. Mansfield’s ‘cello teacher in Wellington was Thomas Trowell, whose sons, Arnold and Garnet, the impressionable and impulsive Katherine became variously involved with. Arnold, the younger son, left New Zealand when aged sixteen, becoming a successful ‘cellist and teacher in Europe – he seems to have rejected all of Katherine’s advances towards him, eventually marrying someone else.

On first going to London Katherine became involved with Arnold’s elder brother Garnet Trowell, and the pair planned to marry, though parental opposition helped put a stop to their plans, despite Katherine becoming pregnant – an attempt by Katherine to “normalize” her pregnant state by marrying someone else also failed the last minute, and Garnet by this time had rejected her (as a commentator remarked, “Never trust a man whose name resembles a bejewelled garden utensil”)!

A recently-discovered story by Mansfield, “A Little Episode” actually mirrors the tragic triangle Mansfield had constructed around herself at the time, Garnet Trowell characterized as “Jacques St.Pierre”, a musician with “a pouting, eager mouth”, and herself as “Yvonne”, self-characterised as “a bruised, trembling soul”. At this point I forget who first observed that “truth is stranger than fiction”, but the lives of people such as Mansfield certainly bear this observation out.

Anyway, to the concert! The music consisted of pieces that either Mansfield herself or Arnold Trowell had played at various times. Trowell himself built up an enviable reputation in Europe as a performer, his ‘cello-playing having been described by one critic as comparable “with the greatest virtuosos of the present time”. Consequently some of his own music makes exacting demands upon the soloist, evidenced by the occasional rawness of the ‘cello-playing in places tonight,  such as throughout the difficult Waltz-Scherzo – which, incidentally, sported the impressive cataloguing legend Op.52 No.1.

Beside Trowell’s music there were pieces by other composers – first of the musical contributions to the program was Léon Boëllmann’s Variations Symphoniques Op.23, a rhapsodic work with some lovely Elgarian-like sequences and a juicily Edwardian “theme”, though with some tiresome “standard-variation” note-spinning passages as well, and plenty of tremolando passages for the pianist (who coped splendidly, incidentally)! There was a polka by a Georg Goltermann, which seemed to try and be a polonaise for most of the time, and then Dvořák’s haunting Silent Woods, the score of which was given to Mansfield as a present by a member of the Trowell family.

Another piece was by David Popper, one with the Schumannesque title “Warum?”, a piece that Mansfield had played while studying at Queen’s College, London in 1904. Difficult for the ‘cellist at the outset, with the music in the higher reaches of the instrument, the piece”settles down” and provides the player with some lovely, flowing runs, and a beautiful harmonic note at the end, which Martin Griffiths played to perfection. In places, as with Trowell’s Op.20 Barcarolle, the piano part sounded more interesting than did the ‘cello writing – and in the latter work Eleanor Carter readily demonstrated her fluency and poetic touch at the keyboard, for our delight.

The pair finished the musical part of the evening on a high note, with what I presumed to be a relatively early work by Trowell, his Op.3 No.2 Le Rappel des Oiseaux – a piece framed by exciting and restless molto-perpetuo writing underlined by constant piano tremolandi, with a salon-like middle section complete with sentimental melody – in places I thought of Rimsky-Korsakov, which probably tells the reader more about me than about the piece!  The duo made a great fist of it, bringing out plenty of colour, energy and, in places, sentiment.

In between these glimpses of a musical world there were readings which focused and intensified the character of the evening’s subject – frequently music was mentioned or characterized, either by the writer herself or by those writing about her, as in an obituary called “Broken Strings” written by a friend, Millie Parker, in 1923, and which was read by Fiona Oliver.We got an exerpt from an early novel, “Juliet”, written when eighteen, and on which Mansfield herself scribbled when twenty, “foolish child”!

Some journal entries, made in 1907, vividly described her understanding of and love for music, a well as describing her disengagement from Arnold Trowell and her passion for the voice of a singer she had recently heard. Finally, we heard “Mr Peacock’s Day” a story from 1917, in which Mansfield mercilessly lampooned her music-teacher husband George Bowden, the scenario, complete with disapproving wife, producing a kind of paean to the “marry in haste, repent at leisure” principle. The story deliciously exposes the fragile vanities and insecurities of a music teacher who considers himself a success from a society point of view and yet seems out-of-sorts with his wife.

Fiona Oliver’s readings drew us nicely into this unique and idiosyncratic world of a great and complex creative spirit, amply colored and flavored by the musical performances. Though I felt the presentation probably needed a theatre rather than a church, to have a more “focused” impact, the evening’s happenings made a warm-hearted and occasionally piquant tribute to Mansfield’s memory on her anniversary.

Brilliant and rousing finale to Wellington Chamber Music’s 2013 concerts

Posted on by Peter Mechen

Wellington Chamber Music Sunday Concerts:
Vesa-Matti Leppänen (violin) / Andrew Joyce (‘cello) / Diedre Irons (piano)

BEETHOVEN – Piano Trio in E-flat Op.70 No.2
DEBUSSY – Violin Sonata / ‘Cello Sonata
SCHUBERT – Piano Trio in E-flat  D.929

St.Andrew’s-on-the-Terrace, Wellington

 Sunday 6th October, 2013

I’m sure that one of the most effective advertisements for a symphony orchestra is when its principal players appear in other spheres as soloists or chamber musicians and nobly aquit themselves. A week before at St.Andrew’s-on-the-Terrace concertgoers had the good fortune to experience the wonderful playing of Hiroshi Ikematsu, section leader of the NZSO double basses, performing a Bottesini concerto . Now, here in the same venue were not one but two more principals from the orchestra joining forces with one of the country’s finest pianists to present a programme featuring both instrumental sonatas and piano trios.

Even though the term “luxury casting” normally refers to the phenomenon of gifted artists taking supporting rather than leading roles in performances, it was the phrase that came to my mind most readily when considering who was playing in this concert – none other than Vesa-Matti Leppänen, the NZSO Concertmaster, and Andrew Joyce, the orchestra’s principal ‘cello, along with the highly-regarded Diedre Irons at the piano.

There’s a feeling that an “ad hoc” group of musicians joining forces to play chamber music might not have the innate teamwork and long-established understanding of each other’s playing needed to fully explore whatever repertoire is presented. Countering this is the idea that one-off partnerships such as these create “sparks” by dint of the creative spontaneity of it all, and bring a newly-minted sense of discovery to the music and its interpretation.

It seemed to my ears that this combination had the best of both worlds – the give-and-take between the players in both the Beethoven and Schubert piano trios was such which one might expect from a well-established combination. On the other hand there was nothing of the routine, nothing glib or mechanical about the playing – instead, a sense of wonderful spontaneity, everything sounded by the musicians as if being heard and sounded out for the very first time.

As one might have expected, St Andrew’s Church was well-filled, with no seats to speak of near the front (my preferred place for reviewing). Boldly and resolutely I decided to go up to the choir-loft for a change, as I’d previously heard fellow-reviewer Lindis Taylor speak favourably of the acoustics from that vantage-point. His judgement was proved correct, as, to my surprise, the sounds of the instruments had plenty of  clarity, amplitude and tonal warmth.  At first I found myself missing something of the visceral contact with the music-making one gets from sitting  somewhere in the first few rows –  but in its place was a kind of all-encompassing sense of  the music, more of an overview, if you like, of the proceedings.

The ear being the infinitely adaptable mechanism that it is, I was soon as involved with the sounds as I’d ever been at a concert – first to be performed was Beethoven’s second  and lesser-known of the two Op.70 Piano Trios (the more famous one being the “Ghost”). This music was a rather more amiable affair than its darker, more intense companion, though its E-flat key gave the music an appropriately romantic ambience throughout.

We got a treasurable moment right at the start –  ‘cello, violin and then piano serenely brought the music into being, creating  a kind of “the gods at rest” scenario at the outset, then rousing themeslves with what seemed like playful Olympian energy through the movement’s  amalgam of  warmth, spaciousness and vigour. I thought the three players seemed like a kind of musical “Trinity” each distinctively individual, but essentially at one with the musical flow – in what seemed like no time at all we were at the movement’s “reprise”, the instruments entering in reverse order to the opening,  glowing with the joy of their interchanges and poised for a final flourish and calm closure to the movement.

The Allegretto’s teasing dance at the opening threw into exciting relief the group’s playing of the stormier minor-key episodes –  in a “Russian” or “Hungarian” mode. At the movement’s somewhat questioning end (a tentative restatement of the opening dance measures) the players took up the composer’s enjoiner to grab those same measures by the scruff of the neck and give them a good shake! I loved the more flowing movement (another Allegretto) that followed – a Schubertian theme (yes, it’s the wrong way round to put such things, I realise) with an oscillating accompaniment and a linking refrain with haunting “flattened” harmonies – here the playing brought out the gentle romance of the music and its reflective, “letting go” of the moment at the end.

After this the finale restored something of the first movement’s sense of energetic fun to the work, the players relishing  both the music’s invigorating forward thrust and the startling sideways modulations at various points, all encompassed within a trajectory of  wonderful natural ebullience, and here brought by the trio to a pitch of effervescent excitement, to which we all responded instantly and whole-heartedly.

Two Debussy sonatas gave the concert variety in both voice and manner,  firstly for violin and then for the ‘cello, both with piano. Debussy had intended to write six of these instrumental sonatas, but sickness and premature death overtook the composer after only three were finished – the Violin Sonata was in fact his last completed work.

Vesa-Matti Leppänen and Diedre Irons were the players – the work began with evocative piano chords, joined by the violin and standing time on its head for a few moments (as certain passages in the composer’s music are wont to do)  before leaning forwards and into the allegro vivo. There were passionate utterances alternated with more veiled sequences, and some magical changes of harmony –  both musicians handled the composer’s many variations of rhythm and dynamic emphasis with completely natural voices. Debussy’s violin played a haunting, chromatic phrase at one point, echoed by the piano as well, and sounding like something heard at an Arabian bazaar –  later, a fuller-throated  variant of this phrase abruptly ended the movement.

Violinist and pianist brought to life the spontaneous, improvisatory irruptions of the second movement’s opening, and then enjoyed the piquant and impish “Minstrels’-like” mood of the succeding sequences – the piano danced while the violin mused, then both rhapsodised and harmonised – such lovely, free-fall playing! The finale’s few “lost in the wilderness” opening bars were dispersed as mists by the violin’s energetic flourishes, though the music’s “anything goes” spirit then  plunged our sensibilities into a sea of languidity –  such suffused richness of tones, here! And then, what elfin dexterities both violinist and pianist summoned up throughout the final pages as the sounds were roused from from their torpor and flung to the four winds as liberated energies – an amazing utterance from a terminally sick composer!

Now it was ‘cellist Andrew Joyce’s turn with the ‘Cello Sonata– in response to Diedre Irons’ opening declamations at the sonata’s beginning, the ‘cello replied in kind at first, then more wistfully – in fact, from both players there came some beautifully-voiced withdrawn sounds.  By contrast, darker, more agitated passages revealed another side to the music, the players switching to and from irruptions of mischief to more melancholy utterances. The pizzicati-dominated opening to the second movement gave a brittle, pointilistic quality to the music, haunted in places by eerie harmonics. The finale maintained the same enigmatic face until bursting into  energetic life with a near manic-dance theme, whose pentatonic character immediately brings to mind Fritz Kreisler’s “Tambourin Chinoise”! Debussy wanted to call the sonata at one stage “Pierrot angry at the Moon” – and certainly the playing of Andrew Joyce and Diedre Irons had that detailed, pictorial storytelling quality which gave the music a  strong theatrical dimension, parallel to its essentially abstract quality – how one hears the work depends upon what the listener is actually LISTENING for…..

Where Debussy’s music was concentrated, volatile and elusive, that of Schubert’s which concluded the concert was expansive, consistent in mood and warm-hearted. This was the second of his two full-scale piano trios, the one which listeners of my generation would refer to by way of differentiation as the “Barry Lyndon” trio, the Andante of the work having been used extensively in the 1970s Stanley Kubrick film of the same name – and extremely effectively, as I remember.

Having dwelt at length on the concert’s other items, I’m not going to unduly anatomise this well-known work or its performance, except to say that the musicians played each and every note as though they loved them all dearly – each turn of phrase, every gradation of dynamics, and each and every tone and colour expressed both individually and together all had the kind of meaningful purpose given by gifted speakers or actors to great poetry or to Shakespearean prose.

And yet nothing was over-laden or emphasised out of context or proportion – both of the middle movements were, for example, rather more dry-eyed at their outset than I wanted them to sound, but in each case convinced through a gradual accumulation of intensities as the music unfolded – the concluding major-to-minor statement of the “Barry Lyndon” theme (excuse my “period” association!) had as much tragic weight and dark portent as that of any performance I’d previously heard, for example.

As for the finale, the music represents Schubert in an ebullient mood, in most places, with episodes of extreme abandonment given to the hapless pianist in particular, who has whirls of notes to contend with in places towards the end, as do the rushing strings at times as well. The return of the aforementioned slow movement theme in the finale allowed the composer to change the expressive outcomes of the music by adroitly reversing previous arrangements and giving the melody a minor-to-major course – a great moment, and a display of optimism and faith in existence wholly characteristic of its composer.

I was going to say it helped “bring the house down” at the work’s tumultuous end, but in fact the house did the reverse, and rose to give the musicians a standing ovation at the concert’s conclusion.  Time was when we would have had to look to visiting artists to give us live performances of such calibre – but here were three local musicians delivering the goods for our delight in no uncertain terms. The response would have gladdened the heart of David Carew, chairperson of Wellington Chamber Music, who had earlier welcomed us to the concert and announced his decision to step down as chair at the end of this year – a most successful concert with which to bow out! This was indeed, for all concerned, a truly memorable occasion.

 

 

Goldner Quartet and Piers Lane shine and glow…

Posted on by admin

Chamber Music New Zealand

Goldner String Quartet with Piers Lane (piano)

Dene Olding, Dimity Hall violins
Irina Morozova, viola
Julian Smiles, cello

 Schubert          String Quartet D810 ‘Death and the Maiden’
Gareth Farr     Te Tai-O-Rehua (Joint commission from CMNZ and Goldner Quartet)
Elgar                Piano Quintet in A minor

Michael Fowler Centre, Wellington

30th September 2013

This was an outstanding concert by an exceptional Australian ensemble playing a wonderful programme. Earthquake strengthening work has obliged Chamber Music NZ to move concerts from the Town Hall to the Fowler Centre and there were some doubts about the new venue’s suitability, given its acoustics and size. To offset its lack of intimacy for chamber music, a small pre-stage podium had been set up for the first two works, which brought the string quartet slightly closer to the audience.  Despite this, the extreme pianissimi that embellished parts of the Schubert were not adequately projected, although the device worked quite well for the huge dynamics of Gareth Farr’s work.

The opening Allegro of the Schubert was full of spirited dramatic sweeps and contrasting tenderness, but the repeated background viola figures that underpin its rhythmic dynamism needed to be clearer and louder for optimum effect. The Andante con moto variations were beautifully rendered as each instrument explored the Death and the Maiden theme, supported by extraordinarily delicate tracery from the other players. The Scherzo followed with great vigour and a convincing contrast for the Trio, then we were catapulted into the Presto finale. The tempo was bordering on the hectic such that, despite the dry acoustic of the Fowler Centre, the scampering passagework of the inner voices sometimes lost its clarity. The contrast of sweeping melodies against those scurrying rhythms is what gives this movement its incredible momentum, but those key inner lines were often blurred by the frenetic tempo. That said, it was a thrilling reading that showcased the quartet’s impressive technical prowess and control, especially in the unison statement of the opening theme and the closing unison scales.

Gareth Farr’s Te Tai-O-Rehua is being premiered on this concert tour, and it proved to be an exciting addition to the string quartet repertoire. Despite being a relatively short work, it commands full stature in the tradition of New Zealand programmatic works from composers like Lilburn and Pruden. Gareth Farr writes:

”Te Tai-O-Rehua” translates from Maori language as ‘The Tasman Sea’ – the turbulent body of water that separates New Zealand from Australia. The piece was commissioned by the Goldner Quartet and Chamber Music New Zealand – and as such is a testament to the sibling relationship our two countries have. One of the inevitable things about the process of creating a piece of music is that whatever inspiration you begin with, the piece will ultimately take over and tell you what it is. I intended to write a happy and joyous piece because that’s the way I feel about my relationship with Australia as a New Zealander …… but the music came out dark, mysterious, and edgy…….In Te Tai-O-Rehua I have used an unusual scale built out of minor thirds and minor seconds which contributes to the dark mood of the piece….”.

This mechanism imbued the music with an intriguing tonality that sat in a hinterland of its own – well out of diatonic territory, but equally well clear of the arid deserts of C20th atonalism. It challenged the ear with complete conviction, while remaining strangely indefinable. And it created a gripping atmosphere for the brooding opening, evoking so dramatically giant kelp seething on wicked rocks, the ominous agitation of the waters before the southerly blast, and the turbulence of violent storms. The Goldner Quartet did full justice to the passion and prowess of the composition, and conveyed the clear impression that they were privileged to play it. The audience obviously felt privileged to hear it too, as Gareth Farr was greeted with huge enthusiasm at the conclusion. Hopefully there will be many future opportunities to hear this challenging and exciting work, and not too long a wait until it appears on CD.

Elgar’s Piano Quintet in A minor is a giant work which sits with the very greatest of this classical genre. The sound was projected from the main stage very satisfactorily, despite the absence of any reflective panels apart from the grand piano lid. The first movement has a Moderato introduction which the group played with beautifully evocative delicacy before sweeping into the rich luscious idioms of the Allegro with its sly hints of dancehall music. The piano has a very dramatic role which Piers Lane threw himself into in a marvelous collaboration with the strings: with single minded vision and faultless execution the ensemble grasped the thrilling drama of the writing and its incredible shifts of mood and dynamics. The central Adagio opens with a glorious cello melody, where Julian Smiles’ intense warmth of tone and wonderful phrasing were quite breathtaking. The full ensemble went on to develop the sweeping melodic canvas with a passion that gave full voice to Elgar’s rich romanticism, before they folded the closing melodies into a deep repose.

The Allegro finale has great drama and intensity  – it is compelled along by extended passages of syncopation set against glorious sweeping melodies which are introduced and developed, interspersed with episodes of enormous energy and driving rhythms. The ensemble grasped every opportunity to its full musical and dramatic effect, and at no time did one feel this was a quartet-plus-piano group. The individual voices expressed Elgar’s intricate and masterful ensemble writing as if with a single heart and mind, and together they carried the work to a triumphant conclusion. There was an extended ovation from the audience who were rewarded with an encore, the Scherzo from Dvorak’s equally famous Piano Quintet in A. There the sparkling opening and closing sections were contrasted with a central trio section of magical lightness and delicacy. This closed an outstanding concert from an exceptional ensemble.

Violinist Blythe Press delivers fine Artist Diploma recital at the New Zealand School of Music

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Artist Diploma Recital

Mozart: Violin Concerto no.4 in D, K.218 (first movement, allegro)
Tchaikovsky: Sérénade mélancolique, Op.26
Wieniawski: Polonaise de Concert in D, Op.4
Sibelius: Violin Concerto in D minor, Op.47

Blythe Press (violin) with Emma Sayers (piano)

Hunter Council Chamber, Victoria University

Sunday 22 September, 12.30pm

It seemed an odd time for a recital, but perhaps the timing was dependent upon those grading the performance.  A mere handful of people attended apart from staff and students of the School of Music.  A lack of publicity was probably as much
responsible as was the awkward timing.

Nevertheless, those who heard Blythe Press and Emma Sayers were well rewarded, by fine playing and an interesting and wide-ranging programme, all played from memory.  While the programme of the recent soprano recital I reviewed was also performed from memory, I do think it is harder for instrumentalists: longer works, so many notes, and no words to hang them from.  The sound in the Chamber was excellent – clear and sympathetic, and resonant without being reverberant, such that the piano was played with the lid fully up, but it never became too loud for the soloist.

I was interested in Blythe Press’s style of holding the instrument; he holds it quite high, the scroll usually being significantly higher than the chin rest.  It reminded me of Francis Rosner, an early member of the then National Orchestra, who was German.  Perhaps this is a central European style?   Blythe Press studied for five years in Graz, Austria.

Mozart’s violin concertos are all quite lovely, but the fourth is particularly delightful.  My ancient Menuhin recording is still a firm favourite.  Blythe Press made a strong start, with warm tone. There were a few slight intonation inaccuracies, but there was no doubt about the skill of the playing.  The cadenza was approached gently, but later became challenging, with double-stopping and fast bowing across all the strings.  It was an enjoyable performance.

The piece by Tchaikovsky could hardly have been more different.  The nineteenth-century style of lyricism was well conveyed.  There was big tone from the lower strings in the early part of the work, which then became more animated and exciting.  Press obtained a great variety of tone from his instrument, and communicated the contrasting emotions extremely well.  As the programme note stated, it was “lyrical and haunting”.

Wieniawski was a noted virtuoso violinist himself, and his compositions are of the same ilk.  It is quite often played, demonstrating the performers’ range of technical skills – but it is not without tuneful, rhythmic and lively qualities.  Again, there were one or two pitch wobbles, but Press had the piece well under his bow and fingers.  Harmonics were used regularly, in the midst of phrases normally fingered, and the melodies leapt swiftly round the fingerboard.  Press’s playing certainly brought out the poetry as well s the bravado.  What a wild dance this was!

The pièce de resistance was Sibelius’s violin concerto, an absolute favourite of mine.  It was more strange to hear the orchestra replaced by a piano in this work than in the Mozart, since of course Sibelius employs a much bigger orchestra and a wider range of instruments and therefore the textures are much thicker.

The wind gusting outside the venue lent verisimilitude to the stormy, wintry first movement with its bleak opening, and orchestral ostinato sounding like snow falling.  The cadenza was a fabulous piece of playing: strong, sustained and seductive.  Press rose magnificently to the many technical demands.

The second movement was not blithe, but bliss.  I adore the climactic discords and their resolution that feature in this movement.  The emotional tension and passion are incomparable.  It is also very lyrical, and was played with smooth, rich tone, but those climaxes were given full weight.  It was strange that this movement was not given any attention in the programme notes.

The third movement had great vigour, yet fine definition of the notes.  Plenty of variety and nuance were bestowed on it, despite the technical difficulty.  It was a fine performance from Blythe Press, and from Emma Sayers too, having to represent an orchestra in such a long work.
All praise to her for her highly musical part in proceedings.

 

Lazarus String Quartet tackles the classics

Posted on by admin

Wellington Chamber Music Sunday Concerts
Lazarus String Quartet

Violins :  Emma Yoon / Julianne Song
Viola :  Lindsay McLay / Cello :  Alice Gott

Haydn Quartet in C, Opus 20 no.2
Beethoven Quartet in G, Opus 18 No.2
Brahms Quartet in C minor, Opus 51, No.1

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

Sunday 22 September 2013.

This talented ensemble was formed in 2009 and comprises graduates of the University of Canterbury. They currently hold the Yehudi Menuhin ‘Live Music Now’ Scholarship in Hannover, Germany, where they are all studying at the Hochschule for Musik.

They offered an attractive programme of works by three giants of the string quartet repertoire – Haydn, being known as “the father of the string quartet”; his former pupil Beethoven; and Brahms. And this group presented it with rich musicianship, passion, and impressive technical mastery. Unfortunately, however, they had not come to grips with the acoustics at St.Andrews, which are now so much brighter and less sympathetic to chamber music since the recent alterations. The forte dynamics were consistently “overplayed” to the point of harshness, particularly in the upper register of the lead violin, and the tempi adopted for fast movements were often so hectic as to obscure the melodic brilliance of the composers’ lines. The technical tour de force unfortunately backfired to the detriment of all three works.

The Haydn work launched into a very polished opening which immediately announced that this student ensemble is clearly set on the road to professional status. Haydn’s marking is Moderato for this movement, but when played Allegro by the group, the clarity of the decorative passagework was smudged by the lively acoustic of the space. Likewise the Allegro fugue of the finale, a gem of its type, suffered for being played Presto. That said, the Capriccio and Menuetto central movements offered some beautiful and sensitive passages that revealed the players’ true musicianship, expressed in a wide dynamic range. The expressive pianissimi were quite breathtaking in their contrast with the strong octave passages that characterize the writing.

The Beethoven is an early work, but none the less challenging for its apparently straightforward style. The opening Allegro was again played Presto, so that the beautiful decorative elements in the opening theme lost the clear enunciation they need. The Allegro finale was beautifully introduced by the cellist, but the bright melodic writing that builds with such excitement to the close became increasingly scrambled by the speed and acoustics the space. This group needed to find the balance between expressing the vitality and exhilaration of this work, and stepping across the line into a hectic mode that actually robbed it of its youthful brilliance. In a nutshell, it is not “late Beethoven” and does not deserve to sound like it. The beautifully delicate reading of the Adagio cantabile showed the ensemble at its very best – they let the music speak with its own voice to wonderfully musical effect, and that is all they needed to do in the fast movements too.

The style of the Brahms’ quartet is somewhat better accommodated to St. Andrew’s acoustics. The opening Allegro features piano sections which were beautifully realized, interspersed amongst fortissimo episodes where the dynamic was still seriously overplayed. The following Romanze benefitted from a much more sensitive interpretation, as did the Allegretto where there was a good dynamic range, yet one which sat very comfortably within Brahms’ comodo marking. The turbulent mood of the final Allegro was attacked with great ferocity, but this was exaggerated to a point that threatened its commanding majesty.

This hugely talented ensemble simply needs to have sufficient confidence in their obvious technical and musical abilities to let the music of these great composers speak for itself. When they were able to do so, most obviously in the slow movements, the effect was profound. The cellist played a key role at these times, where her soaring silken tone and melodic grace set her apart. The members of Lazarus Quartet showed passion, commitment and great technical prowess, as well an obvious delight in their craft. This they projected to the good sized audience at St.Andrew’s, whose enthusiastic applause amply showed how appreciative they were. I believe the ensemble has a great future ahead of it, and I hope they continue to return to New Zealand and share their gifts with us.

This was the fifth of six Sunday Concerts presented this year by Wellington Chamber Music. They offer an impressive lineup of ensembles including pianists and string players, in various combinations. Despite the concert series banner which depicts a horn, there is sadly no wind or brass ensemble nor any vocal element in the series. Given New Zealand’s enormous talent in all these areas this is a strange and unfortunate omission, but hopefully one which will be remedied in future programmes of this series.

China meets New Zealand in music – the NZ Trio

Posted on by Peter Mechen

The Confucius Institute at Victoria University of Wellington presents:
JOURNEY TO THE EAST – Concert One: Between Strings

NZ Trio (Justine Cormack, violin / Ashley Brown, ‘cello / Sarah Watkins, piano)
Chen Xi-Yao (guzheng)

BRIGHT SHENG – Four Movements for Piano Trio
CHEN YI – Tibetan Tunes
CAO DONGFU – Celebrating the Lantern Festival
FAN SHANG’E – Spring Morning in the Snow Mountain
DYLAN LARDELLI – Between Strings (NZ Trio commission)
GAO PING – Su Xie Si Ti (NZ Trio commission)

Hunter Council Chamber, Victoria University

Saturday, 21st September, 2013

Some years ago there appeared a famous LP recording entitled “West meets East”, featuring violinist Yehudi Menuhin and the famous sitar-player Pandit Ravi Shankar, which was a kind of “ear-opener” for people who hadn’t been exposed to any kind of eastern “classical” music. A quick search through the chaos of my collection failed to locate the actual album, but I do remember the presentation being a mixture of “genuine” Indian music with improvisaions featuring the violin/sitar/tabla combination, coupled with a performance by Menuhin and his pianist sister Hepzibah of a violin sonata by Enescu.

This recording, and the interest it generated in Eastern music throughout the West (at roughly the same time that the Beatles were writing for and using a sitar in some of their songs) came to my mind at various moments throughout this “Journey to the East” concert featuring the NZ Trio and the Chinese guzheng player Chen Xi-Yao. Of course such collaborations between diverse musical traditions are far more common now than they were in the 1960s, and here in Aotearoa we are occasionally enthralled by the sounds of Richard Nunns’ presentations of taonga puoro, often in tandem with groups like the New Zealand String Quartet.

I found it an enthralling listening experience, and one not without its challenges – though, ironically, it was the work of New Zealand composer Dylan Lardelli which most markedly bent my listening sensibilities in divergent directions. Without being steeped in the actual sounds of traditional Chinese instruments and their unique expressive modes I found myself adopting the attitude of an explorer coming across a wondrous new country, enjoying things for their novelty and exotic manner. So, even when instruments familiar to my experience were being used, such as in Bright Sheng’s Four Movements for Piano Trio,  I encountered many sounds whose motivation and effect I could only guess at, while enjoying the composer’s acute ear for a range of sonorities.

Bright Sheng drew the material for this work from a solo piano piece My Song written in 1988, the music stimulated by the composer’s interest in evolving a “tonality” relating to his experiences with both Oriental and Western music. On a superficial level the sounds resembled a catalogue of “effects” which the players realised on their instruments with great aplomb, Chinese folk-fiddle-like melodic progressions and glissandi from both violin and ‘cello, and resonant and evocative activations of the piano strings from “within” by the pianist. The preludial, folkish first movement was followed by two more vigorous movements, firstly a bright and vigorous treatment of an actual folk-song, involving some extremities of instrumental timbres, and then a more primitive sound-world of crunching, Bartok-like piano notes, driving, gutteral strings, and savage punctuations of the textures from all sides, pushing the expressions of energy to the point of exhaustion. The composer called the final movement an evocation of “a lonely nostalgia”, one whose beauty and quiet manner cast a spell over we listeners, and obviously activated a kind of impulse to communicate with us from elsewhere, as the piece’s concluding silences were broken by the anxious tones of a cell-phone!

We then heard music by Chinese-born American-based Chen Yi, whose work for piano trio Tibetan Tunes similarly fuses Eastern and Western modes. Her writing seemed to me to almost ‘take over” the timbral characteristics one normally associates with a piano trio, readily evoking something outside the Western ethos. The first of two tunes was called Du Mu which is the name of a god in Tibetan Buddhism, and which the composer wished to depict “in a serene mood”. She did this by writing in a very open, evocative way at the piece’s outset, contrasting held notes and gentle rhapsodisings from the strings with the piano commenting at the phrase-ends – and from this she led the instruments into a kind of simpatico canon (one whose widely-spaced textures allowed  the northerly wind which was gusting outside to add a kind of rushing, evocative counterpoint!). Again the solo instruments reflected individually upon the god’s all-encompassing serenity, with the piano having the last brief word – beautiful, sensitive playing from the Trio.

The second piece, Dui Xie, was inspired by Tibetan folk-ensemble music featuring bowed and plucked strings with bamboo flutes. Some lively, cheeky and angular piano sounds underlined the singing, duetting strings, before a more motoric section brought forth driving piano figurations and slashing string pizzicati – some arresting string harmonics called a halt to such brash displays of energy, before returning to the opening, the piece all the while presenting us with a sound-world of focused delicacy, suggesting a kind of informed beauty in the mind of its composer.

Thc concert’s guest artist was Chen Xi-Yao, one of the world’s foremost performers on the guzheng, a Chinese stringed instrument resembling a zither. Chinese-born, he’s currently resident in New Zealand, and is based in Hamilton, working as a teacher and performer. He performed two solo pieces for guzheng, one of which, Celebrating the Lantern Festival, was written by (and dedicated to) his grandfather, Cao Dongfu. The work began like a folk-song fantasia, then spectacularly erupted with great flourishes and strummings and quickening bass-note rhythms, generating great physical excitement. The second work, Spring Morning in the Snow Mountain, was a nature-piece, written by another Chinese guzheng master, Fan Shang’e, the sounds inspired by her memory of a Tibetan spring morning. A long-time resident of China, she now lives in Canada.

Both of these solo pieces were, not unexpectedly, given masterly performances by Chen Xi-Yao, who then turned his attention (in tandem with the NZ Trio musicians) towards a piece by New Zealand composer Dylan Lardelli, Between Strings, a work commissioned by the NZ Trio. The title gently suggests that music is as much about the spaces in between as the notes themselves, and the kinds of gestures and sonorities resulting from this idea encouraged me to imagine a possible set of voicings suggesting these spacings while the  work was played.

What resulted was mind-enlarging stuff, the sonorities right from the outset having both angular and disparate characters – a bowing ‘cello set against “plucked” textures from the other instruments, for example – these kind of contrasting wrap-around sounds explored the ambient spaces, with sustained notes leading the more abstracted staccato figurations onwards. The violin mused with harmonics as the ‘cello emitted windmill-like sighs of generated impulse, around which the piano resonated with single notes sounding over vast spaces. Chen Xi-Yao’s guzheng maintained its zither-like character, but occasionally the player opened up its timbres with great flourishes – an invitation for the piano to explore its extremes and invite our sensibilities into the spaces between. There is, of
course, such an inherent stillness about music in general, which we as listeners don’t often acknowledge, and which this work encouraged us to explore without flinching, a “sounds in the air” outlook whose outwardly spontaneous ambient adventurings made my natural instincts work overtime to help try and accept as such.

All of which I found hard, if rewarding, work – and so it was with some relief that I turned to the programme’s final item, another NZ Trio commission, this time from Gao Ping, currently  the Visiting Lecturer in Composition at the New Zealand School of Music in Wellington. The work was called Su Xie Si Ti, or “Four Sketches”, which the composer described as “short and concise”, and each possessing “one single mood” – he also likened the pieces to “snapshots of moments in memory”. To me this seemed almost Mahlerian in spirit, with one of the scenes in particular an almost visceral evocation of a Chinese folk-funeral, complete with an off-stage violin for antiphonal effect, playing “happy music” in tandem with the lamenting ‘cello, who remained on-stage – the composer’s title for this piece, Dui Wei, or “Counterpoint”, set both moods in play together. Justin Cormack and Ashley Brown seemed to relish the theatricality of it all.

Another of the pieces called whimsically Cuo Diao (“Split Melody”) sounded like a couple of Aeolian-like harps attempting to coalesce their sounds, a combination which resulted in some gorgeous sonorities, and occasionally strange “alien” notes, with some wonderful, short-lived diversions from the home key of the piece. The work had begun with a piece called Xiao, or “Boisterous”, music which lived up to its name, a muscular, closely-worked, rather Janacek-like piece, spare and energetic.

The afternoon’s final piece was called Shuo, or “Shining”, a musical evocation of sparkling light, with gamelan-like piano patternings and pizzicati underpinings from the strings – a lovely long-breathed melody brings a contrasting mood and texture, though the rhythmic drive of the piece never goes away, the excitement in places augmented by instruments’ individual “accelerandi”. As the piano continues the forward drive, the strings sing a kind of threnody, a passionalte utterance which abruptly stops at its peak – as we in the
audience were left tingling by these momentums, we gladly continued the tumult of sound with noises of great appreciation – very great honour to the NZ Trio (and to Guzheng player, Chen Xi-Yao) for enabling us to experience such a richly-conceived journey.
 

 

 

New Zealand String Quartet plays Britten along with kindred spirits

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Bravo! Britten

Purcell: Fantasias nos. 8 and 11;
Schubert: Quartettsatz in C minor, D.703
Britten: String Quartet no.3 Op.94
Ravel: String Quartet in F

New Zealand String Quartet (Helene Pohl and Douglas Beilman, violins; Gillian Ansell, viola; Rolf Gjelsten, cello)

Hunter Council Chamber, Victoria University

Saturday, 14 September 2013, 7pm

In a recent review I commented on the effect of concerts starting at 7pm on those of us who live out of town.  While I can see a justification, if an early start on a weekday persuades patrons to stay in town after work and go to the concert, I can’t see that justification applying to a Saturday.

This concert was the second in a series of two, transferred from St. Mary of the Angels due to earthquake strengthening work going on there.  Certainly the Hunter Council Chamber is both a more comfortable and a more chamber-like venue, but
while well-filled, it was not full.  Was the hour anything to do with this?

While I’m on gripes, I have to comment on the printed programme.  The excellent programme notes by Joy Aberdein were almost impossible to read in the low lighting provided even before the concert and in the interval, let alone the pseudo-candlelight illumination during the playing.  I appreciate the atmosphere the quartet were trying to create; the blame is on the designer of the programme.  There seems to be an idea around that serifs on letters are old-fashioned, unnecessary decorations.  This is not the case.  Tests, and experienced desk-top publishers, have found that the serifs carry the eye forward to read whole words, whereas sans-serif tends to cut the words up into individual letters.  Here was a sans-serif typeface and very pale printing, which could not be read in the lighting provided.  It was interspersed with quotations from the players, in bold, which could be read. Designers need to bear in mind that the majority of the members of the audience for this type of concert are over 55, and simply need more light, and more ink, to read what someone has put time and thought into preparing.  Practicality before design, please!

Gripes done with, I have to say it was delightful to be again at a concert from our own string quartet.  Their intelligent, thoughtful spoken introductions are a fine way to preface each work (especially when you can’t read the programme notes!), and their playing is always sensitive, lively, and passionate as required.

The Purcell Fantasias reflected Britten’s love and admiration for the 17th century composer, and his feeling that the earlier composer was a kindred spirit. The instruments were played without vibrato, in the style of the period.  The music contained scrumptious dissonances and suspensions.

Schubert’s Quartettsatz represented another composer loved by Benjamin Britten.  In her introductory remarks Gillian Ansell pointed to the melancholy that lay behind the Viennese gaiety of this and many of Schubert’s compositions.

Its two movements (allegro assai and an incomplete andante) are full of melody, but there are also stormy passages.  This was delicious playing, with fine phrasing.  The music was performed sensitively, and was full of nuances; the lilting loveliness was exploited to the full, as were the ‘Moments of sudden rage, lightning strikes, resignation and bittersweet pathos’, to quote Gillian Ansell’s printed words.

Britten’s third string quartet was his last work in the genre, and he was ill when he wrote it.  He was in Venice when completing it, and had two years previously produced his last opera, based on Thomas Mann’s Death in Venice; the quartet quotes from that work.  His feeling of kinship with Aschenbach, the hero of the novel, makes the work autobiographical.  The preface from Rolf Gjelsten gave us examples of the extraordinary textures the composer employed.

A Shostakovich-like opening of the first movement, Duets: with moderate movement, was melancholy and solemn, with discords, much rhythmic variety, and an inconclusive ending, while the Ostinato: very fast second was driving and angular, and made telling use of pizzicato.  The Solo: very calm – lively third movement incorporated contemplation and questioning, with slow phrases for the lower strings behind a sombre, even desolate high-pitched solo from Helene Pohl.

There were interesting technical effects from the other parts: glissandi, pizzicato, harmonics, playing across the bridge (on the viola) in the rapid, and perhaps ironic,  fourth movement: Burlesque: fast.  These effects were not gratuitous, but fitted
into the aesthetic of the movement perfectly, contrasting with grand chords.  The whole movement was delirious and robust, and included an excited fugue.

The final movement, the longest, was entitled Recitative and passacaglia [La serenissima]: slow.  It began with harmonics on the second violin and tremolo notes, with a melody from the cello.  The dirge-like passacaglia was set against an
feeling of continuing life, yet also of finality; here was sombre profundity.  The low repeated notes apparently represented the bells of Venice.

The whole movement was a slow, serene and at times mournful transformation compared with the movement that preceded it.  A difficult movement, it did expose a few notes out of place.  However, throughout the work there was great clarity of textures.  The work ended on a despondent note.  Britten said “I want the work to end with a question.”

Ravel’s only quartet is quite often played, but it was wonderful to hear it in this relatively intimate space, which provides clear yet rich sound (despite the carpet).  The Quartet committed this work to disk a number of years ago (Atoll ACD 399).  I have the recording and know it quite well, but this performance brought the music alive, literally and figuratively.

Its first movement (allegro moderato – très doux) opens with a beautiful tune, vaguely pastoral in character, the writing beautifully spare The second subject played in unison, octaves apart, gave an other-worldly feel.  The section before the later repeat of the theme during the development features a gorgeous viola passage.

The second movement, assez vif – très rhythmé, brings pizzicato to the fore, and over it, haunting melodies weave in and out. Pizzicato triumphs in the end, with a loud exclamation mark.

The third movement, très lent, has a spooky opening leading to calm, gentle and languid passages.  This movement also features haunting, even doleful phrases, and much of it is played using mutes.  Lyrical, with pastoral themes, it is full of
surprises, including echoes of themes from previous movements. The vif et agité finale is something completely different.  It begins in energetic, even angry mood, but repeats the theme from the opening movement, and plays with it lightly in new ways, until a robust, almost Shostakovian ending.

It was a thoroughly satisfying and accomplished performance, as indeed was the entire concert.