Tag: chamber music

Memorable concert by visiting expatriate musicians

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Wellington Chamber Music

Milhaud: Suite for violin, clarinet and piano, Op.157b; Fauré: Piano Trio in D minor, Op.120; Messiaen: Quartet for the End of Time

Akoka Quartet (Simeon Broom, violin; Rachel Church, piano; Victoria Simonsen, cello; Sarah Masters, clarinet)

Ilott Theatre

Sunday, 22 April 2012, 3.00pm

These young New Zealanders have all studied in the United Kingdom, and are currently playing professionally there.  Simonsen and Masters are no strangers to the Messiaen work, having jointly won the Granada Chamber Music Competition in the UK, performing this music.  They have considerable experience playing in chamber ensembles, orchestras, and solo, in New Zealand, UK, and Europe.

Their all-French programme revealed how unlike French composers can be from one another, and it was a very satisfying collection of works, surprisingly, all written within a 20-year span.

Having in the distant past played the Milhaud work with friends (one of whom was present at this concert), I was delighted to hear it live.

The clarinet particularly was pleasing in the first movement ‘Ouverture’.  Humour, jazz and off-beat rhythms are all features of this movement.  Later, the piano and violin came into their own more.  The ‘Divertissement’ slow movement is marked by lovely interlocking parts, while the ‘Jeu’ third movement, for violin and clarinet only, is bright, lively and dance-like, with a contemplative middle section.  The ‘Introduction et final’ that ends the work is bouncy with great melodies, and ends deliciously, with a cheerful ‘good-night’.

The work was played with panache and expression; some hesitancy in the violin early on disappeared, and the joyous nature of Milhaud’s writing found full flowering.

Each item was introduced by a different member of the quartet, the information filling out what was in the programme notes.  I find this an interesting feature, becoming more common in chamber music concerts.  It helps to give a flavour to each of the players and they become not only musicians but also communicators.

The Fauré trio is very different from the previous work.  After a very ardent opening on the cello, the strings continued with mellifluous, singing quality, ably supported by a delectable piano part.

The andantino slow movement had classical interplay of melody between cello and violin, with serene supporting chords from the piano.  The music gradually became impassioned.

The final movement is somewhat idiosyncratic, and there are more nods to the twentieth century in its writing.  It is quirky at times, but very rhythmic.  The harmonic language is more varied than that of the first two movements.  It was given an admirable performance.

Before the concert, I felt it was rather soon to have another performance of Messiaen’s work, after Ensemble Liaison and Wilma Smith played it so memorably in the Wellington Town Hall less than six months ago (the concert was broadcast on RNZ Concert only about a week ago).  There was also a performance at the Adam Chamber Music Festival in Nelson in February last year.

However, these players were well up to the task.  Being in a smaller, more intimate space than was the October concert made the work sound less grand and monumental; on the whole I preferred the larger acoustic space.

Nevertheless, the themes of faith and spirit, and apocalypse as outlined by Simeon Broom in his introduction to the work, were amply conveyed.

The word ‘time’ has another meaning music – was this the end of time in music?  Messiaen’s modal, even plain-chant, continuous melody in much of the work has no obvious consistent time signatures, and a lack of apparent unity (see Peter Mechen’s review of the earlier concert, on this website: 29 October 2011) was somewhat overcome for me by hearing it a second time.

The character of the music is forecast in the titles of the eight movements, many of them coming from the last book of the Bible: Revelation.  Despite the lofty and dramatic themes there, this music begins with an ethereal opening of bird sounds, most notable in the high harmonic glissandi on the cello.  This first movement (Liturgy of crystal) is followed by crashingly apocalyptic sounds in the second movement (Vocalise for the angel who announces the end of time).  It moves into smooth piano and string chords seemingly arriving from profound depths, played with muted strings, before a return to the apocalypse.

The ‘Abyss of the birds’ third movement is for solo clarinet, and was originally written separately for the clarinettist the composer met at a temporary prison camp in France, before they were both transported to a Stalag at Görlitz in Germany, in 1942.  The quiet introduction is powerful in its muted simplicity.  Beautifully played, it nevertheless had less impact on me than the previous hearing, with its soloist standing on a large stage at the Wellington Town Hall.  The piece calls for a huge range of the clarinet’s notes and dynamics, all superbly rendered by Sarah Masters.

The ‘Interlude’ fourth movement is for violin, cello and clarinet.  A great array of techniques is called for; the music makes almost ecstatic pronouncements.

Movement five (In praise of the eternity of Jesus) is for cello and piano only.  A strong, serene melody on the cello has simple piano chords underpinning it.  The mood is of faith and fervour, and hope.   Again, the music depicts ecstasy and confidence, yet is sometimes poignant.  However, hope triumphs at the end.

The sixth movement (Furious dance for the seven trumpets) returns the full quartet, and is a complete contrast to what has preceded it.  Furious it may be, but it is not sheer noise.  It is played almost entirely in unison, generating a most unusual mysterious atmosphere and mood.

‘Tangle of rainbows for the angel who announces the end of time’ is the title of the seventh movement.  After a placid opening, there are violent discords, then a return to the placid mood.  The violin playing in this was very fine; beauty and simplicity characterised the music.  A renewal of chaos followed, and then there are birds, the music emerging to perhaps a preview of the end of time.

Finally, the contemplative last movement (In praise of the immortality of Jesus), for violin and piano only, is calm and peaceful in the violin part (marred by a few moments of poor tone and suspect intonation), supported by chords on the piano.

Altogether, it was a memorable concert, and the clarinet playing of Sarah Masters was particularly outstanding, but all the players acquitted themselves well, and gave first-class performances severally and together.

 

 

Two varied lunchtime concerts at St Andrew’s

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

1.  Mozart: Sonata for violin and piano in G major K.301
Fauré: Sonata for violin and piano in A major Op.13
Rupa Maitra (violin) and Kris Zuelicke (piano)

2.  Operatic arias, and lieder
Vocal Students of the New Zealand School of Music, accompanied by Mark Dorrell

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

Tuesday, 3 April 2012

Wednesday, 4 April 2012, 12.15pm

Perhaps it was an excess of riches, or simply that people are ‘programmed’ to attend a lunchtime concert at St. Andrew’s on a Wednesday, but not on another day.  Whatever the reason, the Tuesday concert was not well attended compared with that on Wednesday.

Mozart’s sonata begins in a sunny mood, with a jolly melody (which always makes me think of the Scottish song “Maxwelton braes”, otherwise known as “Annie Laurie”), alternately presented by piano and violin.  The second movement (there are only two) was also allegro, but quite different in metre and character.  The G minor middle section gave a pleasing contrast, with some passionate moments.

These two extremely competent musicians had it well under their fingers.  However, I found the violin tone sometimes a little harsh; the acoustic was partly responsible for this.  There was a brief lack of synchronisation in the closing moments, at the repeat of the opening section.

The second work, with which I was not familiar, was a more difficult and demanding one, besides being much longer.  The composer communicates many musical ideas, with an exuberant allegro first movement containing a great deal of variety.  I found the piano over-pedalled for my taste.  There were soaring phrases, especially for the violin, but intonation was not always spot on, and again I found the tone not always mellow.

The andante second movement was solemn, with some lovely moments, especially in the middle section.  The third movement, allegro vivo, was faster than the final one (allegro quasi presto).  It was jaunty in mood, on both instruments, with frequent pizzicato on the violin.  The slightly slower final movement featured beautiful smooth melodic lines, while the piano part was full of notes.  The ending was very busy for the violin, with chords on the piano.

Throughout, the piece was played in a musical and sensitive manner.

Wednesday’s concert involved a lot more people: seven singers, plus the imperturbable Mark Dorrell accompanying all of them.  Most of these singers I had not heard before, and wonder if they are first and second-year students; the programme did not tell us.

Nearly all the singers sang two arias, or an aria and a lied, separately in the programme, but here I will group each singer’s items together.

Robert Gray had the unenviable task of opening the programme.  His ‘O del mio dolce ardor’ from Gluck’s opera Paride ad Elena revealed his pleasing voice, and he conveyed the mood of this most attractive aria well.  However, his tone in top notes was not well supported, and intonation was suspect on lower notes.  He did not seem confident.

How differently he presented the Count’s aria from Mozart’s Le Nozze di Figaro!  The opening was strong, and the singer more confident now.  His Italian was enunciated very well, and the characterisation convincing  While Mozart’s forte passages for the orchestra, or piano in this case, do not coincide with the voice too often, nevertheless I found Dorrell’s piano a little loud for the singer in places, though wonderfully rhythmic and Mozartean.

Daniel Dew is a young tenor, who sang first ‘Every valley shall be exalted’, from Handel’s Messiah.  As the programme note said, the aria is full of word painting, and Dew’s clear voice and words made this amply obvious.  Runs were executed well, and there was good control on the high notes; elsewhere, the tone and expression were just a bit raw around the edges.  His second piece, ‘Wohin?’ from Schubert’s Die Schöne Müllerin was engagingly sung, but more tonal control was needed on the low notes.  Dew’s German was very good, and well enunciated.

Rossini’s famous aria, the ‘Willow Song’ from Otello was the choice of Rebekah Giesbers, a soprano.  She has a clear, pure voice with attractive tone.  The runs were not sufficiently agile, however, and there was insufficient variation in the performance.

Two lieder (‘Ständchen’ and ‘Lievesbotschaft’ from Schubert’s Schwanengesang) were chosen by Fredi Jones.  He has a light but very pleasant tenor voice.  At times I found the accompaniment a little too loud for his voice.  He evinced great breath control, and the mood of the second song particularly came over well.  Later in the programme he sang in very good French: ‘En fermant les yeux’ from Massenet’s Manon.  It was delightful singing, with expressive phrasing, but he could do with a little facial expression to help convey the story.

The latter characteristic was a strong one for Esther Leefe, soprano, who performed first ‘Batti batti’ from Don Giovanni by Mozart.  Her silvery voice was mostly accurate; the facial expression needed to be backed up with more vocal expression here.  Her second item was the lovely Samuel Barber song ‘Sure on this shining night’.  The sound was good, but I did not find that she really conveyed the song convincingly.

Angelique MacDonald did not sing the programmed Alban Berg song, but Mozart’s beautiful aria for Pamina, in The Magic Flute: ‘Ah, ich fühl’s’.  This was a very touching rendition, with plenty of dynamic variation.  The tone was a little harsh on the higher notes sometimes, when singing loudly.

In her second aria, a metallic tone seemed present in the middle range, while the top was secure and sweet, and the lower notes were fine.  This was in her very dramatic performance of ‘Regnava nel silenzio’ from Lucia di Lammermoor by Donizetti.  There were plenty of gestures and facial expression as well as a good range of dynamics in the voice; this aria suited her agile voice.  It was an accomplished performance.

Another soprano, Awhina Waimotu, followed, with a song by Respighi: Tempo assia lontani’.  This gave the impression of being quite difficult, for both singer and accompanist.  Despite a few insecurities for the singer, this was an impressive performance: a lovely expressive voice with warm tone, beautiful vowels, and a strong upper register.

This impression was confirmed in her second song, the enchanting Chanson triste of Henri Duparc.  After a slightly hesitant start, she gave a fine performance.  The French language was good, but the song needed slightly more subtle phrasing – however, that can come.  I have to confess to being very familiar with an old recording by Gérard Souzay, in which he lingers before the high note to give it extra emphasis, and varies the dynamics more than Waimotu did.  Otherwise, this was a splendid performance of this exquisite song.

Mark Dorrell deserved warm thanks for the huge amount of very accomplished playing he did.

 

 

Monumental recital, a gift from the Puertas String Quartet

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Puertas Quartet: Tom Norris (violin), Ellie Fagg (violin), Julia Joyce (viola), Andrew Joyce (cello)

Mozart: Adagio and Fugue in C minor K 546; Ravel: String Quartet in F; Tchaikovsky: String Quartet No 1 in D

St Mary of the Angels church

Friday 23 March, 7.30pm

Because the concert by this quartet at Waikanae had been reviewed a few weeks earlier by my colleague Rosemary Collier, I had wondered whether I needed to offer a fresh view.

On reflection however, the fact that at this concert one piece in the programme had changed made it seem a good idea to write about them again. The Haydn string quartet at Waikanae was replaced here by Mozart’s Adagio and Fugue in C minor K 546.

Furthermore, this was a special, free concert, presented, I understand, by the players themselves.

Based in Britain, the quartet’s connection with New Zealand is the presence of New Zealander Julia Joyce (nee McCarthy) who went to study in London as a violinist and now plays as principal viola in the NZSO. She met cellist Andrew Joyce in London, where the quartet was formed with two violinists who play in leading London orchestras. (Andrew is now principal cellist in the NZSO). They visited New Zealand last May and have been able to make another visit this year.

The Mozart was a very rewarding substitution (not that it is ever a mistake to play Haydn), but this quartet piece, which is sometimes played by string orchestra, is rarely played in live concerts, at least in my experience. The Fugue was written in 1783 for two pianos (K 426), and in that form is perhaps even more arresting than as a string quartet. It is commonly ranked a masterpiece, which perhaps accounted for its dominating my mind for many days after.

Later, in 1788, Mozart wrote the Adagio and the authorities seem to accord it alone the Köchel number 546, so that the conjunction of the Adagio with the Fugue should perhaps be properly identified as KK 426 and 546. The Adagio too is a most arresting piece, offering an unusually sombre prelude to the fugue. Its almost tragic energy gives it anything but the usual air of an adagio, and that serious spirit was underscored by the way the quartet’s impressive playing remained suspended in the church’s generous acoustic.

The fugue was perhaps well chosen as it gave prominence to Andrew Joyce’s splendid cello in the powerful opening statement of the fugue theme. But after that, as each instrument had its share of the action, there was no ignoring the superb musicianship of all four players.

There followed a short piece from a recently released CD by the quartet of music by an English composer colleague, Keith Statham. It was a Pastorale of serious demeanour, neo-romantic in character, creating its own momentum to suggest a creation that had emerged fully-formed in the composer’s head.  After the interval they played another of Statham’s pieces – this time a Romance, which at first sounded merely easy to listen to, unadventurous, though never really predictable; but it developed and evolved as a longer, more varied and interesting work than its early stages had suggested; and the players did it proud.

Then followed the two major pieces that they had played at Waikanae. We heard a profoundly lyrical account of the first movement of Ravel’s quartet, played with great warmth and sweetness, followed by a quick (‘Assez vif’) movement, pizzicato outer sections framing a pensive middle, coloured by tremolo passages. An exquisite feeling of suspense sustained the slow movement (‘Très lente’), richly unhurried, meandering without sounding relaxed, and the players further revealed their admirably controlled yet fluid ensemble in their handling of the 5/4 rhythm of the last fast movement.

In Tchaikovsky’s first quartet, the violins changed places: Ellie Fagg took over from Tom Norris. Here too the quartet demonstrated its ease and its complete command of structure and emotional character. The ease was felt in the naturalness of the rubato and unostentatious rhythmic changes, the unity of tone and style that bound the players together; they were never afraid to offer little surprises in the shape of slightly prolonged pauses and conveying the feeling of spontaneity that seemed unstudied but was of course the product of long-cultivated collaboration.

Though the presence of a movement that has taken on a life of its own can be a problem for listeners at first, I cannot imagine a performance that drew you in to the entire work so strongly, and whose playing argued more persuasive for the musical inventiveness, the formal strength and the lyrical beauties of this first string quartet.

This represented the end of the quartet’s tour of a number of smaller centres in New Zealand. Considering it was offered as a free concert, it was rather surprising that a very large audience did not fill the church. Though we have several very fine resident string quartets, principally the New Zealand String Quartet, it is always illuminating and gratifying to hear players who have developed a different manner and exhibit such superb musicianship as these players have.

 

Classy performances of excellent programme of string quartets at Waikanae

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Haydn: String Quartet in C, Op.20 no.2
Ravel: String Quartet in F
Tchaikovsky: String Quartet no.1 in D, Op.11

Waikanae Music Society: The Puertas Quartet: Tom Norris and Ellie Fagg (violins), Julia Joyce (viola), Andrew Joyce (cello)

Waikanae Memorial Hall

Sunday 11 March 2012, 2.30pm

Having heard the Puertas Quartet play before, I was anticipating a good concert, and was not disappointed.  I hope word will quickly get around Waikanae about the quality of this ensemble; there were not as many present as is sometimes the case.

The Haydn work began with a fine, bright sound, and great clarity.  The Capriccio second movement of the work is particularly strong; after a sombre opening, it continues with ‘almost vocal pathos’, as the programme note described it.  The care with which these players had prepared was noticeable in a number of ways: the convincing playing of the unison phrases, the emphasis on important notes; the variety of expression.  This was a most delicious movement.   A note slightly out of tune struck my ear, and one or two elsewhere in the concert – otherwise, the playing was immaculate.

A lovely, light Minuet followed, featuring some chromaticism unusual in Haydn’s music, then the fugal Finale gave plenty of interest, with a sudden burst into forte to announce the end – another of Haydn’s jokes as in the ‘Surprise’ symphony, for those who might be nodding off?

The performance of the Ravel quartet saw the leadership of the quartet swap from Tom Norris to Ellie Fagg.  The music’s wonderfully ethereal unison passage for the violins near the beginning, and another later for violin and cello, were among the many delights.  In unison, the sound was like that of one instrument playing; the playing generally had great unanimity.  All parts could be heard, but balance was superb.  Julia Joyce’s viola was never overwhelmed, and her splendid tone came through well, while her husband’s warm and rich sound on the cello gave a superb basis to the music, even when he was merely bowing or playing pizzicato on repeated notes.

The second movement started with all playing pizzicato, with the sparkling and rhythmic effects that go with that, followed by a muted slow section that displayed mellow tone.  Again there was unison between first and second violins summoning that unearthly feeling.  More lively pizzicato passages brought the movement to a satisfying conclusion.

The slow third movement featured mutes, again.  This made for very gentle, warm and expressive tone.  It was followed by a faster ‘Vif et agité’ finale that was notable for thicker textures, but still returned to familiar themes from earlier movements.  It was a very fine rendition of Ravel’s masterwork.

After the interval, a short Romance by Keith Statham was played.  He is an English-born New Zealand resident and friend of the quartet members; the piece was introduced by remarks from Andrew Joyce.   Ellie Fagg led the quartet now.  As I said in my review of the quartet’s concert in the Hunter Council Chamber at Victoria University last May, when this piece was also played, there were whiffs of Mendelssohn, Dvořák, Tchaikovsky, and especially Elgar and the English composers.  This time I would add Ravel and Debussy to the list – and a friend felt that Delius was present.  It is a simple romantic piece, but with rich harmonies.

Tchaikovsky’s String Quartet no.1 is not nearly as well known as a whole as is its famous ‘Andante cantabile’ second movement.  It is a great work in totality, even if the slow movement does rather stand out.

The first movement was played smoothly, with plenty of subtlety; a charming, romantic work, mild of mood and mellow of tone.  Here again, there was always great ensemble, and the several of first movement passages for solo first violin with the others accompanying had the right balance.  There were splendid crescendi, and a grand ending.

The lovely andante was muted, and its sound delicate but never wispy or spineless.  The first violin against the pizzicato accompaniment is so exhilarating in its quiet way, it is no wonder the movement is so popular – it is justly famous.  Here, the playing was full of feeling.

The third movement scherzo is much more matter-of-fact.  It was played in a lively yet insistent fashion.  The playing again had great accord and mutual understanding.

The opening of the finale was very classical, until the second subject was announced on the viola.  This was a more Russian music, and the development of that theme was bright and bouncy, as was the conclusion of the movement.  The co-ordination of the parts following rests was near perfection.

This was a classy performance string of a quartet not heard sufficiently often.

I trust that the showing of the Puertas Quartet in this concert, and in the rest of their current tour, will enable Chamber Music New Zealand to schedule concerts in the main centres on the next tour they make here.  We are very fortunate that the quartet is able to visit together across the globe in this way; Andrew Joyce paid tribute to Keith Statham for his contribution to making this possible.

 

 

Duo Tapas return for more violin and guitar music

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Music by Krouse, Anthony Ritchie, Lilburn, Imamovic, Piazzolla, and Bartók

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday 7 March, 12.15pm

Duo Tapas has become a fairly familiar presence on Wellington’s chamber music circuit over the past couple of years, even though the combination of violin and guitar has not been a major musical genre, or one that has drawn scores of composers to write major works.

Nevertheless, the music that this attractive duo turns up is always attractive, serving to dispel the notion that classical music consists entirely of great masterpieces by great geniuses all of whom are dead.

These musicians show that very listenable programmes can be built with music written by living composers from all over the world, including some who are their friends.  (All of it has been arranged for this combination from other originals). The names Krouse and Imamovic, as well as Ritchie, and some of the same music – Da Chara for example – have appeared in their earlier concerts.

The latter piece, by Ian Krouse, began with a deliberate or accidental hesitation, but it seemed altogether in keeping with its subdued Irish accents, with hesitant rhythms, the slight fragility in the violinist’s playing, evolving towards the end into a faster dance.

The New Zealand department of the recital consisted of an arrangement by Anthony Ritchie of one his own Five Dunedin Songs of 1996: Stone Woman. It had a bluesy, ‘country’ character , the guitar injecting curious figures alongside the violin’s flowing line. And Lilburn’s Canzona (not Canzonetta) No 1 followed: it seems belatedly to have become a genuinely popular piece (I think it made the RNZ Concert New Year’s Day Count-down), perhaps in a similar class to Farquhar’s Ring Round the Moon music, and similarly perhaps, not highly rated by the composer, misled during those benighted years in which melodies were scorned as a mark of non-seriousness or commercialism. The guitar part seemed the perfect accompaniment, while the violin’s velvety bowing was quite enchanting.

In a recital last year the duo played music by Bosnia-born Almar Imamovic, whom Moriarty met while studying in Los Angeles.  Hints of a modal scale could be detected in Jamilla’s Dance (played in their 2010 recital at Old St Paul’s), and a characteristic Balkan, perhaps Greek touch was present as the dance slowed. It was a slight piece, though effective, given a spirited and careful performance.  A second scheduled piece by Imamovic was omitted for reasons of time.

The two pieces by Piazzolla were in marked contrast. (Incidentally, try looking him up in any music dictionary more than 15 years old, even New Grove: he’s only recently been promoted into the ranks of ‘classical’ music). The first, Oblivión, was a slow tango whose tension was probably as hard to sustain as it would have been to dance to (the emotional state called up makes me think of the evocation of the tango in Kapka Kassabova’s recent memoir/novel on the subject). It’s a condition comparable to a slow elegiac aria, in long phrases, calling for extraordinary breath control. The violin remained on its upper strings while the guitar carefully picked out supporting motifs.

Libertango was a more conventional exemplar of the Argentinian dance in speed and rhythm, the player tapping the guitar body as he picked out the tune around which the violin weaved a counter-melody.

To end, the duo played Bartók’s six Romanian Dances, all quite short but in vivid contrast one with another. Bartók wrote them for publication as piano pieces; Székely arranged them for violin and piano and they in turn were arranged for guitar and violin by Arthur Levering.

The instrumentation brought them back closer to their peasant origins, arresting and strong-minded or languid, sometimes complex in rhythm, sometimes calling for a harsh bow on the strings. All very striking and an excellent way to end a very agreeable recital by excellent, skilled musicians.

 

New Zealand String Quartet revelatory with second group of Beethoven’s Opus 18

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

New Zealand International Arts Festival

Beethoven: String Quartets, Op 18 Nos 4, 5 and 6

New Zealand String Quartet (Helene Pohl, Douglas Beilman, Gillian Ansell, Rolf Gjelsten)

Church of St Mary of the Angels

Sunday 26 February, 7.30pm

In her brief introductory comments at the first of these two concerts Gillian Ansell had observed how interesting it was to play the quartets in chronological order rather than to mix works from different periods: it highlighted the essential features of these works of the 30-year-old Beethoven, their originality, their imaginativeness, the clear mood contrasts between each.

And so it was.

Many listeners will have heard these quartets in sequence as a result of the availability of several complete recorded sets, but such remarkable live performance in such a beautiful setting is something else.

The New Zealand String Quartet is one of the musical groups that know the importance of lighting and of ambience generally that is necessary to create the best emotional environment for listening to music (which varies of course with different kinds of music). Here the church was dimly lit with evocative under-lighting in the sanctuary that made the most of the deep blue of the back wall.

The programme contained useful and illuminating notes from Nancy November as well as from two of the players – Douglas Beilman and Helene Pohl.

I always enjoy reading the perceptions of others about the spiritual character of music and Helene’s pithy snapshots drew particular attention to certain movements and to the general character of each quartet as a whole.

The fourth quartet, Helene suggests, is ‘dramatic, passionate, with overall orchestral textures’. It’s the only one of the set in a minor key. But that by no means implies any lack of energy, and so its first movement seemed to be leaning into a brisk wind, moving forward energetically, going just a little faster than one’s breath could accommodate. It was a wonderful way to launch the evening! The dynamics undulated like a ship moving on a gentle swell. The players knew precisely how much weight to allow individuals at every stage – sometimes the first violin, sometimes the cello – to give proper voice to the melody.

The second movement – unusually, a scherzo – light, dancing in triple time, in a spirit that seems unBeethovenish, quite singular in its flavour, perhaps offers homage to Haydn. The slow movement comes third; it was played darkly and urgently, in marked contrast to the Scherzo, and in its turn it is in sharp contrast to the finale, where the four players seemed intent on obliterating individual voices in the tangle of almost frenzied activity.

I don’t know whether the fifth quartet is the most played – I seem to have heard it more often – but it is perhaps the most lovable. Helene remarks, ‘“Hommage à Mozart”, buoyant, though not without an edge’; and the programme note suggests ‘a sardonic skit on genteel elegance’. I don’t know about the sardonicity, but it was played in high spirits, the quavers in triple time generating a real delight.

Again, Beethoven breaks with tradition to place his dance-like movement (reverting to a minuet from his more normal scherzo) second, gorgeously lyrical with a Trio sounding like a peasant Ländler, that the players invested with even more gentle though artful simplicity.

One of the most beautiful movements in all six quartets follows with the Andante Cantabile. While Beethoven was, in certain of his other compositions, a man aware of the politics and troubles of his times, I reflected here, as the enchanting and endlessly inventive variations unfolded, on the presence of Napoleon’s armies criss-crossing Europe during 1797–1800, capturing Austrian territory in north Italy, causing social and economic distress for France and other countries. Yet, for Beethoven it was never a reason to compose music that was ugly or violent.

On the contrary, it may be that his sympathy with Napoleon’s overthrow of the oppressive and corrupt absolute monarchies that still ruled much of Europe, obscured the destructive consequences of the wars, and that it was his optimism about political and social advancement that Napoleon sought that allowed him to compose much spiritually joyful and positive music.

And so the performance of this Andante, an elaborate and beautiful set of variations suggesting Beethoven’s contentment with this best of all possible worlds, formed the concert’s centrepiece, giving generous and carefully exploited space to each individual instrument in turn.  All that could follow was the brilliant, contrapuntally complex last movement.

The last of the six quartets was revealed as yet another original and different masterpiece. The famous and percipient writer on the quartets Joseph De Marliave suggested that ‘the ease and breadth of the finale of the preceding quartet flows on to the first movement of this’; support or otherwise for such remarks is one of insights possible through their playing all together, in the order in which they were written.

Writing on the same quartet, De Marliave, also commented on the repetitions of the first theme, and I had found the same: a little surprising in works that otherwise exhibit such profound sensitivity to form and motivic development. Nevertheless, the players responded wonderfully to the energy of this Allegro con brio first movement, finding entertainment in the step-wise motifs and the unusual excursions, for example the grumbling gambits by the cello.

Even in the superficially most uncomplicated movements, Beethoven provides surprise and amusement. The decorative Adagio second movement mocks the cello in a short sequence of false starts, and later there is an unexpected, somewhat mysterious deviation into a minor key.

The contrast between the Adagio and the following Scherzo and Trio was drawn for all it was worth, with syncopated rhythms and an ebullience spirit.

The last movement opens with a slow introduction labelled Malinconia: another singular contrast of mood. A lot of attention has been accorded to it; that its plan pre-figures the last quartets, its remarkable modulations, whether the eventual arrival of the Allegretto really succeeds in creating a satisfactory finale… They played that Adagio as if weighed down by the sorrows of the world, and perhaps by the composer’s own awareness of his solitary life and the first signs of deafness. The requisite Allegro that follows seemed rather a matter of formal necessity yet it was played as if its level of inspiration was just as high as all that had gone before.

It brought to an end what many might come to feel as the most rewarding concerts of the festival, a testament to the maturity and the peak of artistic accomplishment that has been reached by the New Zealand String Quartet.

These two concerts are the first of three series in which the entire oeu vre will be played: the second, mid-year, under Chamber Music New Zealand and the last under the quartet’s own management.

 

Exhilarating first of two concerts of Beethoven’s Quartets Op 18

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

New Zealand International Arts Festival

Beethoven: String quartets Op.18, nos. 3, 2, 1

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

St. Mary of the Angels church

Saturday, 25 February 2012, 6pm

The New Zealand String Quartet will play all Beethoven’s string quartets this year, in chronological order – a major undertaking in celebration of the 25th anniversary of the founding of the quartet.  As Helene Pohl observes in one of several excellent programme notes, hearing them this way ‘we discover how full of personality these “early” quartets are!’

The Quartet’s fondness for St. Mary of the Angels as a venue was understandable straight away: the first notes demonstrated the warm sound.  However, the lively acoustic does allow every sound to be heard clearly, including a little too much metallic tone from the first violin, at times.

The first quartet played was the third in the set.  Beethoven’s harmonic invention was there in abundance.  In the first movement, allegro, the first violin has most of the interesting work.  The second demonstrated lovely rhythmic variety; the smooth  legato second theme was played superbly, with the sonority of Gjelsten’s cello particularly marvellous.  A few slightly misplaced notes did not detract from a sensitive and fine performance.  The movement came gently to a beautiful conclusion.

The third movement was energy alternating with calmness, followed by increasing complexity, while the fourth, marked presto, was certainly fast.  It was a joyful movement with unanticipated touches of reflection; little turns cause the music to pause in its rush towards the end, which is unexpectedly quiet, almost humorous.

The attentive audience in a full church demonstrated how much people enjoy hearing Beethoven played well.  Where are these people (assuming most of them were Wellingtonians) when the Wellington Chamber Music Society’s winter Sunday afternoon series is on?

The second quartet is quite different.  Its opening allegro features plangent crescendos.  The next movement, adagio cantabile, has a rich-toned opening.  A ‘false scherzo’ intervenes – fast, yet light and frothy.  The slow tempo returns, and sounded all the more sombre by contrast.  The movement ends with delicate figures in the minor key.

The real scherzo that was the third movement, described in the programme note as ‘brilliantly unpredictable’ reminded me of a dragonfly’s dance (having seen a large native one in my garden just recently).  It was too fast and frisky for human feet.  A solemn little set with the dancers bowing to each other was followed by variations, with copious interplay of the instruments.

The final movement was a delightful piece of counterpoint.   Here, the players were equal partners in a jaunty and good-humoured mood, in a movement more democratic  than the others (to use the language of programme note writer Dr Robert Simpson). A strong and vibrant passage is followed by a quiet section, then bang!  Suddenly the music is loud again; a typical gesture of Beethoven’s.

Now to the beginning of Beethoven’s quartet-writing career: Op.18 no.1.  This quartet was the most familiar of the three, to me.  Its lyrical opening was in a cheerful, mellifluous mood.  It presented a great range of dynamics – as indeed did the other two quartets.  It sounded to be a more mature work than the others, and this would be due to the fact that the composer comprehensively revised it two years after its first composition.  This allegro con brio opening movement was very satisfying.

The adagio affettuoso ed appassionato second movement began in sombre fashion, reminding me of Mozart’s Requiem.  Later, the music became passionate.  Its constantly altering moods make for an intensely interesting listening experience.  Slight rubatos added to the effect.  It was magnificently played.

The playful scherzo that followed required plenty of fast finger-work.  The finale was a surprise.  “Where is this going?” was my thought.  This was another democratic movement; all the players were engaged in the many twists and turns, and changes of key.  The constantly altering faces and qualities of the music sustained the attention.  Some of the strongest and most emphatic playing of the evening was in this movement.  It was fast, with an energetic ending.

The New Zealand String Quartet provided an appreciative audience with a thoroughly satisfying, even exhilarating concert.

 

 

Fine violin and piano recital, of variable music, as final 2011 offering from School of Music

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Beethoven: Violin Sonata in G, Op 30 No 3; Martin Bresnick: Bird as Prophet for violin and piano; Messiaen: Theme and Variations for violin and piano; Schumann: Violin Sonata No 2 in D minor, Op 121

Sarita Kwok (violin) and Jian Liu (piano)

Hunter Council Chamber, Victoria University

Friday 9 December, 7.30pm

This was the last concert presented by the New Zealand School of Music in 2011. Stephen Gibbs, who has taken over as ‘marketing and events coordinator’, and done it with spectacular success, told us that it was the 281st (or near enough to it) event open to the public this year. That includes formal concerts,  as well as master classes, student recitals, composer workshops and so on, at venues both in the two universities that jointly created the school, and in the city and the wider metropolitan area. Even though the school seems not to be performing as it might in certain areas, the arrival of distinguished new faculty members this year, together with Gibbs, augurs well, and the singular visibility that has been achieved this year in concerts and recitals, many free or at modest prices, greatly enriches our musical life.

Sarita Kwok has been a guest artist in the school in the last term; she is from Australia but did post-graduate work at Yale University where she now teaches. Her performance career has taken her round the world as concerto soloist and chamber musician. Clearly she was here through a connection with the Head of Piano Studies, Jian Liu, who also worked  at Yale.

The collaboration between the two was evidence of their having played together a good deal as well as having acquired approaches to music that were complementary. That is, in the pains taken with detail, a delicacy in handling dynamics as well as a robust, extrovert manner in the Beethoven sonata. That was evident in the emphatic, tumbling motif dominated by the piano at the start of the first movement. But there was no question of one instrument in charge; both played equally important roles as Beethoven wanted, neither merely accompanying. I felt that the dynamic variety and suppleness was never merely to offer entertaining variety, but was driven by the inner emotion of the music.

They revealed in the second movement the impression of very long and careful study, creating from a mere dance-inspired piece, a movement of great interest; the pianist, in particular invested his part with turns of phrase that added real illumination.

The rippling piano part of the final Allegro vivace seemed written for Jian Liu, so fluently did he handle it; and the violin matched him in the fast, flighty melody that leads the way. They grabbed attention by slightly prolonging the pause before the surprising modulation that precedes the coda, which brought it quickly to its end.

Martin Bresnick is professor of composition at Yale, and thus a colleague of the two musicians. Bird as Prophet is the last of twelve pieces entitled Opere della Musica Povera (‘Works of a Poor Music’). The title refers to Schumann’s well-known piano piece from the Waldszenen. Though there was some use of microtones in the early stages, otherwise there was little departure from a broadly tonal palette; it suggests the bird by means of abstract musical patterns, in rhythms that were hard to keep track of but which made sense (there is also some reference to jazz saxophonist Charlie Parker, who was known as Bird, and referred to by, among others, clarinetist Tony Scott as his prophet).

I felt that some of the significance of the piece eluded me, as its non-musical landscape tended to interfere with my hearing it simply as a musical creation; nevertheless, its inventiveness held my attention and its performance did it justice,

Though I did not know the piece by Messiaen, it had at least the advantage of a familiar name; it was a wedding present for his first wife. The opening melody was unmistakably Messiaen, with his characteristic harmonies, and though I could understand why it had not attained the fame of some of the composer’s other music, its framework, in variation form, lent it a shape and a variety of moods and tempi that maintained interest. The third (I think) variation, with staccato piano under a lyrical violin part, seemed to be the emotional centre, though the next variation, with strong hints of the last movement of The Quartet for the End of Time (‘Louange à l’immortalité de Jésus’) was a comforting association; the variations subside in a peaceful resolution. The rendering of this too was a gift from these two gifted, subtle and extrovert players.

Finally, Schumann’s Second Violin Sonata. He wrote three of them after 1851, five years before his death, when his musical gifts had generally declined. I know the first sonata quite well but not this or the third, and have to confess to finding this, in spite of its admirably committed performance, a thing of striving after inspiration that almost constantly eludes the composer. Schumann wrote about this work: “I did not like the first Sonata for Violin and Piano; so I wrote a second one, which I hope has turned out better”. I’m not too sure….

It can be admired from a formal point of view – its calm but arresting introduction moving to a lively Allegro (Schumann uses German tempo markings – Lebhaft) is promising enough but one waits in vain for a memorable tune to sustain the movement. All there is is rhetoric and ritual passage-work. A tune worthy of the name (of slightly Scottish flavour) finally arrives with the third, slow movement (Leise, einfach, or I suppose, ‘tranquillo, semplice’), and Kwok and Liu played it with fine elegiac warmth. The finale seems to search for a memorable theme, or two; but all Schumann finds are somewhat arid motifs; consequently it outlasts its material, and the end, in spite of the most warm-hearted efforts by the players, seems a very long time coming. And I am a true member of Schumann’s  Davidsbündler.

However, it is perhaps not fair to compare every composition that just misses an ‘excellent’ grade, to the few real masterpieces. Who actually wrote a better one through the four decades of the mid 19th century? Beethoven’s last was in 1809; Mendelssohn also missed the mark with his violin sonatas; Spohr, a violin virtuoso, left none; there’s one listed, of 1845, by Vieuxtemps, that I don’t know; Carl Rheincke wrote one about 1848; Brahms’s first was not till 1879; but Grieg’s attractive ones were written in the 1860s; Fauré’s, 1875; Saint-Saëns, 1885 and Franck’s not till 1886. In that context, Schumann’s sonatas don’t look so bad.

Considering the stature of these two musicians, and the insights they offered in all four works played, the audience at this free concert was disappointingly small.

 

Classical guitar lecturer gives fine, varied recital at St Andrew’s

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Music by Barrios, Vivaldi, Ian Krouse and Walton

Jane Curry – classical guitar

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday 7 December, 12.15pm

Jane Curry joined the faculty of the New Zealand School of Music at the beginning of 2011; although she’s given public recitals before this was my introduction to her playing.

I was a minute late and she was part-way through Caazapa by famous Paraguayan composer/guitarist Augustine Barrios; the sounds she was producing were limpid, relaxed , with an air of improvisation that spoke of her confidence and thorough command of the music. Her second piece was called Maxixe, faster, fluent, again with a relaxed manner that produced the most natural dynamic and rhythmic subtleties.

Jane’s biographical note in the programme didn’t tell me of her New Zealand background, but the school’s website did. She’s been very peripatetic: a B.A. from Waikato University, a B.Mus. from Massey followed by an honours degree at Auckland University. Then, following work at both the Royal College of Music in London and the Royal Northern College of Music in Manchester, she went to study with Scott Tennant at the University of Southern California. She then took a master’s degree and a doctorate from the University of Arizona. (What an amazing contrast with the normal qualifications of university teachers in my day when a master’s with first class honours, and an occasional doctorate, from rarely more than two different universities, usually afforded plentiful depth as well as breadth of learning and skills, in the days when the emphasis was teaching rather than today’s obsession with ‘research’).

Her CV also mentions theatre studies and an interest in ‘collaborative and cross-disciplinary work in musicology and ethnomusicology’, with focus on the music of the Balkans. It will be interesting to watch her impact in those areas, already well developed, at the New Zealand School of Music.

Jane Curry’s second piece was an arrangement by David Russell of Vivaldi’s 6th cello sonata, in B flat (RV 46). (I think she remarked that it was transposed). Russell, with whom she worked in Arizona, has published a CD of his recordings of his arrangements for guitar of a number of keyboard sonatas by Domenico Scarlatti, ones by Handel and Loeillet, plus this one.  The opening Largo was gracious and unhurried, as she relished the pensive, cantabile melody that transferred very comfortably to the guitar. If the technical challenges were not overwhelming in that, they emerged more dramatically in the Allegro, showing that the writing lies no more easily with the guitar than it would with the cello, especially as the arrangement involved carrying the essentials of the continuo part, often played by a second cello, by means of a left hand whose agile fingering involved the most astonishing contortions. Here Curry demonstrated a range of nuances that were no less beguiling than a cello would have done. The third movement was another Largo in which the rhythm suggested careful picking one’s way across stepping stones in a stream; what variety of harmony and dynamics are available to a skilled guitarist!

Curry expressed her admiration for composer Ian Krouse with whom she worked in Los Angeles. His interest in Balkan music yielded his Variations on a Moldavian Hora (a word cognate with the Greek ‘Choros’ from which ‘choreography’ is derived). The piece involved, to start, sounds emanating from the extremes of the guitar’s range, sometimes provocative, sometimes seeming to resolve. But the technical difficulties soon faded from view – for the listener at least – as Curry’s handling of the dancing theme emerged so musically. I’m sure it was one of those pieces in which the overcoming of difficulties was continuously accompanied by real musical rewards.

Finally Curry played four of Walton’s five Bagatelles. The first is a hypnotic riot of virtuosity which seems to demand the most awkward-looking, fast and tortuous fingering, which produced racing and irregular phrases. The second piece, Lento, limited in its expressive range and musical material, seemed to convey a suppressed unease, or at least an absence of overt emotion.

Alla Cubana is perhaps the most lyrical of the Bagatelles; it begins and remains for the most part on the lower strings, soon developing a Caribbean character, with only a rare leap up the E string. The last, Con Slancio, expresses a nervous, distinctly Latin flavoured quality, short-winded and quite pithy, but she infused it with spirit and energy that brought the recital to a close in a confident temper.

The School of Music is fortunate to have secured such an accomplished performer and so versatile a musician to teach guitar after the departure of Matthew Marshall.

 

A particularly charming lunchtime concert at St Andrew’s

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

The Nikau Trio – Karen Batten (flute), Madeline Sakofsky (oboe), Jane Young (cello)

Serenade IV in B flat, K 439b (Mozart); Trio Sonata in C minor (Telemann); Chrzaszcz (‘Grasshopper’) (G Waterhouse); Trio in C, Op 87 (Beethoven)

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday 30 November, 12.15pm

Not a lot of composers have written music specifically for the combination of flute, oboe and cello; however, any composers present at this concert might have been prompted to do so both on account of the intrinsic attractiveness of the sound blend, and the charming case these three players made for the four pieces they played.

They began with a to-me-unknown serenade by Mozart: K 439b, listed as Serenade IV: that means No 4 in the group of five serenades or divertimenti (25 ‘divertimenti’ in all) that carry the catalogue number K 439b (K.Anh.229 in the fairly definitive 6th edition of the Köchel Catalogue). It gets more complicated…

Naturally, you will find a great deal of interesting, if not altogether straight-forward scholarly information on the famous  catalogue through Google and Wikipedia.

The five serenades are scored for various instruments; this one appears to be scored for three basset-horns or two clarinets and basset-horn.  So what we heard evaded the sounds that Mozart had very emphatically in his mind – that of the clarinet and its bass cousin the basset horn. The introductory rising, unison triad would have sounded more convincing played by three identical instruments; the effect from instruments of very different timbres was, to say the least, strange, something that I doubt Mozart would have written.

However, sources reveal arrangements for a wide variety of instruments – almost all winds – including clarinet, oboe, cor anglais, French horn, bassoon, and including a piano.

In general, however, the five brief movements, most based on one theme, were charming though slight. In this scoring, it seemed easier to hear them as mere background music for a vivacious social event. The players established straight away their facility and their comfort in the salon style of music Mozart wrote here.

However, I felt that this piece proved the most problematic in terms of persuasive, idiomatic sound. In contrast, the Telemann trio launched itself with an air of some consequence, written of course when the baroque style was still dominant; it bore the marks of contrapuntal mastery and steady attention to the role of each instrument, bearing mind players and perhaps audience of some musical sophistication as compared with the perhaps less attentive and well-schooled listeners to Mozart’s piece.

It really is a revelation to encounter from Telemann music that shows both such compositional skill and inventiveness, as well a such charm. Each instrument seemed to have music that revealed its best characteristics, the cello in the first movement, the oboes at the opening of the third, a thoughtful Andante, and a lively flute opening of the final Allegro, which employed an adroit though unostentatious fugue.

The third piece was by a Munich-based English composer, Graham Waterhouse (born 1962). His piece had a fine Polish name of nine letters with only one vowel: Chrzaszcz. (Isn’t it interesting to contemplate how much more economically this word would appear in Russian – Хжaщ.  Cyrillic script provides single letters for most sounds that demand two or more letters in Polish and in English and other languages that used the Roman alphabet).

Written in 1984, it was quite short, pithy and its motifs and rhythms offered sufficient justification of its title that means ‘grasshopper’; but its main stylistic origin sounded neither English, nor German, nor Polish – but French, of the Poulenc or Françaix flavour. The players were clearly entertained by it and gave a lively, colourful performance.

Though it carries a fairly late opus number which would suggest around 1810, the Trio, Op 87 was probably written in 1794, shortly after Beethoven’s arrival in Vienna. Hardly a profound work of course, but among its strengths was the fact that, though originally for two oboes and cor anglais, its arrangements seem not to detract from its musical value; rather, as in this case, it seems always appropriate, as the music’s quality is proof against any maltreatment; an arrangement can even enhance its attractiveness and character.  That seemed particularly the case with the cello, whose voice was hardly represented in the original score.  These players seemed to relish the opportunities offered by their individual parts, as well as responding collegially to blending of their parts.

Though the first movement was quite long, its material supported it without a hint of empty note-spinning. Unlike much music of the classical or galant era, no movement seemed without substance: an Adagio that may not have been profound but reflected the thoughts of a serious-minded composer; a minuet that didn’t avoid the routine form, but already revealed an originality and intelligence. In the Finale the cello’s role provided colour and a lyrical quality that might not have been common in such pieces at that time (apart from Haydn and Mozart). It is a highly diverting piece whose individuality the players relished and which brought a delightful recital to a lively end.