Tag: chamber music

Mulled Wine Concerts
Violin and piano: Sonatas by Lilburn (in B minor played by Donald Armstrong and Mary Gow); Beethoven (in F, Op 24 ‘Spring’) and Fauré (in A, Op 13), both played by Donald Armstrong and Sarah Watkins

Paekakariki Memorial Hall

Sunday 7 August, 2.30pm

The last concert in this delightful beach-side concert series saw the unusual phenomenon of impresario turning pianist: Mary Gow. She had contributed as pianist to these concerts before but I had not heard them, and this audience was reminded again of her as a very fine pianist, playing Douglas Lilburn’s 1950 violin sonata with NZSO associate concert master Donald Armstrong.

The day was calm and sunny as we drove to Paekakariki, though the sea, at high water, was very rough. The concert began with sun pouring into the hall through the west windows, Kapiti Island floating out there. About an hour later eyes were drawn to the windows as they rattled and the sky suddenly darkened, and soon the sound of rain joined the sounds of violin and piano like brushes on a side drum.

Lilburn actually wrote three violin sonatas. In February 1943, he wrote one in E flat and later in the year, as a result of his association with Maurice Clare, who had been conductor of the Broadcasting Service String Orchestra, he composed another, in C, which was performed in December that year.

This was actually the second airing in two months of the third sonata, in B minor; it was played by Martin Riseley and Jian Liu at a St Andrew’s concert on 10 June marking the tenth anniversary of Lilburn’s death.

It was written in 1950, after Lilburn had become a lecturer at Victoria University College, for Frederick Page (pianist and head of the music department) and violinist Ruth Pearl; they premiered it at the university and then played it again three months later in Wigmore Hall in London.

This confident and resolute performance by Donald Armstrong and Mary Gow, alongside two famous and well-loved sonatas, revealed a mature work that seemed to have absorbed the character of European music of the time, tonal though with momentary dissident splashes. Cast in one movement, though with five distinct sections, it strikes me as interestingly different from the Lilburn who strives for an indigenous sound, or the one that remained too derivative of the English pastoral school. It is by no means avant-garde, nor is its lyrical character conservative; it is clearly a creation of the mid-century, comparable with the works of many other composers who stood aside from Darmstadt dogma. It is an impressive, vigorous, tightly argued work that should have become one of the leading chamber pieces of the New Zealand repertoire.

Beethoven’s ‘Spring’ Sonata was invested with similar energy, now with the piano part played by Sarah Watkins, pianist in the NZ Trio.  Its rising and accelerating phrases suggested a fast-emerging spring, blooming luxuriantly, as the sounds of the sea increased in sympathy with the performance. The two players made a highly attractive team, which could have suggested they’d been playing together for many years.

Fauré’s first violin sonata is one of his most lovely pieces, from the same vintage as the comparable, first piano quartet. It’s often compared to, and is almost as opulently romantic as, Franck’s violin sonata. It must be a joy for two good friends to play as the themes and motifs are tossed back and forth; the Andante, where the rhythm set up by pairs of quavers in four-beat time, seems to invite easy intimacy during a peaceful stroll. Then there’s the sparkling scherzo movement, Allegro vivo, in which both players’ dexterity, and especially Watkins’s, and ability to keep together was tested to the limit and not found wanting.

The biographical note reminded the audience of Armstrong’s role as director of the New Zealand (later the NZSO) Chamber Orchestra, founded in 1988 but, regrettably, disbanded few years ago: it was often recorded and the occasional broadcast of their recordings of 18th century works always strike me with their liveliness and polish. His talent for open, warm-hearted playing was very conspicuous in all three of the sonatas.

That is not to suggest that his was the dominant role, for Watkins playing is just as marked by its robustness and readiness to take the lead whenever it is called for.

The concert, and the series, ended with Mary Gow’s offering of one of Lilburn’s piano preludes which was followed by Armstrong and Watkins playing a quirky arrangement of the famous 1948 pop song, written by Ken Avery, Paekakariki (in the land of the tiki).

The audience at this concert was a little smaller than I’d expected. A pity, for it’s a long wait till the next season of concerts begins, which was outlined on the back of the programme. They start with the usual jazz concert in January and the five confirmed classical concerts start in March.

Chamber Music New Zealand

Alwyn Westbrooke: “?”, or: Why Gryphons Shouldn’t Dance
Ravel: Trio in A minor
Schubert: Piano Trio no.2 in E flat, Op.100, D929

Saguaro Trio (John Chen, piano, Luanne Homzy, violin, Peter Myers, cello)

Wellington Town Hall

Wednesday, 3 August 2011, 7.30pm

It cannot be too often that two young people who both played in the Schools Chamber Music Contest in the same year appear on the same top-flight CMNZ tour merely ten years later, one as pianist and the other as composer.

Yet that was the case in this CMNZ programme in Wellington, part of a tour of ten centres in New Zealand, to be followed by a five-city tour in Australia. In the local tour, the Saguaro Trio will perform in both the Taranaki and the Christchurch Music Festivals (good on Christchurch for going ahead with their Festival!)

The Trio has had great success since it formed in 2007, the very next year winning competitions in Japan, and in the USA, where all three were then based, and an important competition in Hamburg, where all three now live, in 2009. (The photograph in the CMNZ subscription brochure for this year shows a different cellist.)

In the Hamburg contest, eight different trios were required to be played – a very demanding programme. On this tour, six different works are being performed.

The work by Alwyn Westbrooke, who was a student at Burnside High School in Christchurch when he had success as both composer and performer in the Contest, and uniquely won both the performance first prize (as a violinist with his quartet) and the composition prize, was a commission by CMNZ. Its composer heard it for the first time at the beginning of this tour, in Invercargill.

His work opened the programme. It came over as an experiment in sounds, but with coherence. The word ‘beauty’ does not come to mind, however. Various unusual techniques were applied to the string instruments. I thought ‘There must be some plucking of the piano strings soon’, and sure enough! It seems to be obligatory these days. There was extraordinary playing from all three performers, but especially from John Chen. However, I did not find the work engaging.

The Ravel trio has a very gentle, vague opening, evoking thoughts of ‘Where are we? What key are we in?’ It received strong yet subtle playing. The delicious reverie, particularly in the piano part, summons idyllic thoughts and images. This movement calls on Basque folk dance, and evokes a mysterious atmosphere. As the programme note put it “…a wistful movement… dominated by rhythmic fluctuations and hypnotically shifting harmonies.”

The second movement was quite lively and exotic, yet enchanting. Then came the more contemplative Passacaille third. It was played with fluidity, fluency and finesse. It even became solemn, with use of the lower register of the piano. The final movement gradually livened up – but this is predominantly a mellow, graceful work.

These performers demonstrated first-class balance and blend. Their ensemble was near-perfect in timing, intonation, dynamics, expression and interpretation. Only a couple of times towards the end of the final work did I hear a couple of rum notes.

In the Ravel work the strings tend to work as a pair. The Canadian violinist was a semi-finalist in the Michael Hill Violin Competition in New Zealand last year; both she and the American cellist had thorough techniques and grasp of the music, but both were undemonstrative performers. The deft, accomplished playing of the whole trio made it clear why they had won in Hamburg – and why there was no second place-getter to rival their achievement.

However, the pianist has probably the greater say in the Ravel trio, and John Chen’s playing had assurance yet sensitivity.

Like all of Schubert’s major works the Trio in E flat is quite long – and quite delightful. It is full of fertile melodies and lovely harmonies. Its mood is happy, sombre and exultant by turns.

Listening to the Saguaro Trio, one would think that they had been playing this music together for years, and it reminded me of hearing the great Beaux Arts Trio play it in Wellington years ago; it left a permanent impression. (Menahem Pressler, the pianist in that group, was chair of the judging panel at the Hamburg competition that the Saguaro Trio won.)

A fiery, passionate, yet at times romantic allegro opens the work. ‘…Schubert managed to achieve balance between the instruments, never allowing the piano part to dominate’ as the writer of the programme note said; the performers achieved this equality.

The andante second movement opens with a sombre cello them which is then taken up by the piano; here and elsewhere in the movement the pianissimos were gorgeous. The vigorous scherzo is partnered by a chorale-like trio, of much heavier mood and expression, then the cheerful, extravert finale arrives, thoughtful as well as animated. It returns to the melody of the second movement, played lyrically with rich, sonorous tone by Peter Myers.

The Saguaro Trio is a consummate ensemble; a combination of superb musicians in complete accord. I will be most surprised if they don’t hit the ‘big time’ quite soon.

There was a reasonably good house, but I thought there would be more people come to hear well-known New Zealander John Chen play, and to experience the interesting programme. It was pleasing to see a considerable proportion of young people attending; appropriate, since the players themselves are all young.

Brahms: Piano Trio No 2 in C, Op 87; Chris Adams: Jekyl Rat; Kenji Bunch: Swing
Shift; Schubert: Piano Trio No 1 in B flat, D 898

New Zealand Trio (Justine Cormack – violin, Ashley Brown – cello, Sarah Watkins –
piano)

Expressions Arts Centre, Upper Hutt

Thursday 28 July, 8pm

I have been sorry to miss the first two concerts in this year’s Classical Expressions series at Upper Hutt’s so agreeable arts centre.

Unfortunately, neither of my colleagues had been able to get to them either.

For the record the earlier concerts were by the Amici Ensemble, which comprises leading players from the NZSO, who played, inter alia, clarinet quintets by Brahms and Anthony Ritchie; and the violin and piano of Martin Riseley and Diedre Irons, whose recital included Schubert’s Fantasie in C (D 934 presumably) and Strauss’s Violin Sonata.

It was a calm and cool (not cold) evening and I’d have expected a big turn-out on account of the trio’s programming of two of the most glorious piano trios, by Brahms and Schubert. But the auditorium was little more than half filled; though one has to recognize that these concerts are a little more expensive than comparable concerts elsewhere.

Brahms
That didn’t lead to performances of any less warmth and richness however. Helped very significantly by the luxurious tone of the piano, this was music, from the very opening unison chords, in the high Romantic tradition, revealing all the emotion and profundity of spirit that Brahms had at his command: the players sounded fully in sympathy and  captured all its opulence and grandeur.

What intrigues me about the slow movement is Brahms’s rhythmic ambiguity which, if not handled with an unerring instinct, can sound uncertain and irregular, but the trio unraveled it all while not losing sight of Brahms’s pleasure in posing little enigmas throughout the course of the several variations which comprise the Andante. Ambiguity is one of the essentials of a work of art.

I was often struck by the happy blending of tone and spirit by violin and cello, and Sarah Watkins’s piano playing was the very essence of the chamber music style, both supportive and illuminating.

Naturally, there is some falling-off of profundity in a scherzo movement, and though the players threw themselves vigorously into it, the music becomes a bit routine (but in a sense that is strictly relative only to Schubert’s finest compositions); the more soulful trio section of the Scherzo, between outer tremolando passages, was played with particular relish. A deep contemplative spirit is replaced in the Finale by something Brahms does well –a certain daemonic flippancy, alternating light and shade, the full-bodied and the ghostly.

Schubert
Schubert’s B flat trio ended the concert. In this, more than in the Brahms, I felt, the players, while never faltering in their ensemble, found ways to differentiate their parts that made you pay particular attention to them as individual players. Though it is a remarkably balanced group in terms of musical skill and interpretive faculty, I found my attention drawn very often to Ashley Brown’s cello (perhaps through being a cellist of the 5th class myself); for example in the slow, emotionally strong crescendo bowings in the Allegro.

Schubert’s slow movements are usually at the heart of his music, and the impression is easy to conjure up in the late works, in this case, suffering advancing illness, just a year before his death. it seemed to dramatise the lyrical, the emphatic, the meditative, the
despairing even, with special force.

Again in the Scherzo I sense a certain striving for jollity that, on an uncharitable day, might seem a bit false, and I felt the players did hint at a little of that in the playing. The middle Trio section was allowed to be more soulful.

Music as politics
In between these two masterpieces were two contemporary pieces that reflected places and people in a very particular way, a way which might have raised eyebrows in earlier periods when music was expected to be mainly abstract, translating stories or characters through means that were formally and primarily musical. There seems to be no widespread disapproval of ‘programme’ music these days, and a great deal of music is conspicuously inspired by and intended to evoke extra-musical ideas, images, narratives.

Chris Adams’s Jekyll Rat, in spite of Ashley Brown’s elaborate avoidance of naming the MP hidden in the score, was pretty transparent, especially in the second section, Sycophant’s Dance, a sort of Tango in which one could easily conjure the deputé in a TV show dropping his partner on the floor.

It’s curious that so few composers of the past have felt inspired to represent political issues in music; some opera composers did, certainly – Beethoven, Verdi and Wagner in particular – but how many chamber music composers did?. One gets no impression of the political views of Bach, Haydn, Mozart or Schumann…

Having remarked on the ‘programmatic’ nature of the piece, one must observe the clear
marks of a careful and imaginative musical structure, with rather recognizable musical signposts. It was in three parts: ‘Me ne frego’ – ‘I don’t give a damn’; ‘Sycophant’s Dance’; and ‘Insanity represented by Mustard Yellow’ (a remarkably clear clue). The wit lay in the musical invention, as much as in the non-musical aspect: in the scoring for the three instruments, during which I was often conscious of a smile on my face. It led the listener along unexpected paths, to surprising conjunctions of ideas, and it concluded in a diminuendo, disappearing in a puff of smoke or, if you like, up the subject’s hidden orifice.

For all its splendidly overt political message, I felt it also stood on its own feet as a quite extensive piece of music.

Night Flight in New York
The other contemporary piece was by Kenji Bunch, an Oregon-born composer, said in the notes to have emerged as one of America’s most prominent composers of his generation (he’s in his late 30s), but this puzzled me as I could find no website devoted to him and only very odd references to his music: none at all to Swing Shift, which turns out to be the name of a 1984 film, an American big band, an album by an Australian pop group, and so on. No mention of Bunch.

However, the players have supplied interesting background. Sarah sent me Bunch’s website (don’t be led to think Google or Wikipedia are exhaustive reference sources). He’s written a symphony, a great variety of music for large and small forces, been commissioned, inter alia, by the English Chamber Orchestra, St Luke’s Chamber Ensemble, the Naumburg Foundation, and has been broadcast on the BBC and NHK, Japan.

The trio played one movement, Night Flight, the second of the six-movement suite, Swing Shift, comprising three lively and three calmer movements, by Kenji Bunch. Last year they played the sixth movement, Grooveboxes, at Paekakariki. This year the trio are playing movements from Swing Shift at their Auckland Museum concerts this year and Justine says they might play the entire suite some time. Both the movements played so far have been feisty, jazzy and strongly rhythmic. Night Flight is written in a reasonably conventional idiom, strong four-in-a-bar rhythms, with stretches of piano arpeggios and ostinato-like motifs.

The piece was personable, lively and colourful and suggests that the opinions recorded about Bunch are just.

I can imagine a performance of the whole work in a venue like a museum. It’s a pity that none of Wellington’s museums appear to be aware of the common world-wide practice of presenting good music. Sure there is music, but very little evidence of its selection by people with cultivated musical taste or knowledge of the all-important classical repertoire.

A chamber ensemble’s environment
The NZ Trio is among the most accomplished full-time professional chamber groups in New Zealand. While there is a large repertoire for piano trio, much of the 18th century is domestic or salon music, even that of Haydn and Mozart; almost all the relatively few great works are of the 19th century. Thus a piano trio is right to devote a lot of effort to exploring contemporary repertoire, and particularly to commission New Zealand music.

All these things the NZ Trio does splendidly, and it’s to be hoped that the unhappy political and economic environment will not affect the survival of the group. The fresh decision by Radio New Zealand Concert to cease paying fees (forced by frozen funding from New Zealand on Air) to concert promoters for broadcasting rights will have a serious impact on most chamber music groups. However, in the meantime, it will not stop the recording and broadcasting of concerts, though reductions in their numbers might be imposed in due course, as political ill-will towards state-funding of the arts is like a cancer.

Bach: Sonata in G, BWV 1027;
Kodaly: Sonatina for cello and piano;
Bloch: From Jewish Life and Méditation Hébraïque;
Debussy: Sonata for cello and piano;
Martinu: Sonata no.2 for cello and piano;
Piazzolla: Libertango

Paul Mitchell (cello), Richard Mapp (piano)

Myers Hall, Jewish Community Centre, Webb Street

Sunday, 17 July 2011, 3pm

Myers Hall was a new venue to many of us at the concert on Sunday; it proved to be of a good size for a chamber music concert, and with its wooden parquet floor and high ceiling, its acoustics were very satisfactory.

However, if it were to be used more regularly for concerts, a better piano would be required. At times I thought the elderly Marshall and Rose baby grand to be out of tune, but it may just have been its age that made it sound oddly at times, particularly in the Bach. Richard Mapp played with appropriate style and technique for the baroque music (the instrument often almost sounding like a harpsichord), in contrast to his full-bodied playing of the other works, but the former manner of playing seemed to emphasise the piano’s difficulties.

Having just heard a radio talk about recorded Bach works, that made a comparison between performances that were ‘straight’ and those where the performer(s) introduced some individuality to the interpretation, I was delighted to hear the nuances, especially of dynamics, that these musicians brought to their performance of the Bach composition. It was a very satisfying performance; after the third movement’s logical, peaceful nature, the allegro finale was played with great panache. In my head I hear my pianist/organist mother saying (as she does on a private recording I have) ‘The piano does not bring out the notes of the tune as does the organ or the clavichord’. Mapp defied this dictum pretty successfully.

Apart from the Debussy sonata, the remaining works on the programme were not familiar to me. It was a pleasure and interesting to hear so much music that is seldom played, not least the Kodaly sonatina. After a lovely piano introduction, there was much lyrical music, and strong playing from both musicians, providing a complete contrast with the Bach work.

Bloch’s From Jewish Life is in three sections. The first, ‘Prayer’, was very beautiful. The piano starts by just playing chords while the cello plays melody, then a different piano theme that echoes and balances the cello one enters. In the second part, ‘Supplication’, one could almost hear the cello uttering words, since the melody followed very much the inflections and rhythms of language. Finally, ‘Jewish Song’ had a very spare and Middle-Eastern-sounding tonality. There was a plaintive quality to it, and it was very sensitively played. Again, it was a great contrast with the Bach sonata. This was passionate music. The full tone from the cello was very fine.

Paul Mitchell gave spoken introductions some of the items. He said that he thought that the Debussy sonata was more Spanish than French in character. Certainly the first movement has a very rhythmic piano part, which is dominant, then the cello reasserts itself. Then there are passages of great delicacy, played with feeling and finesse.

The second movement (Serenade) features lots of pizzicato on the cello and staccato on piano. It is full of character – and it was given characterful playing. The finale, which follows without a break, had the instruments swapping notes and dynamics with each other, followed by a strong, assertive ending. As the programme notes stated, it was more spirited, and had elements of folk-song. This was a thoroughly convincing performance.

The Méditation Hébraïque of Ernest Bloch starts quietly and lyrically, with a repeated bass note on the piano. The central section, especially passionate on the cello, embroiders a pentatonic theme, and then the music dies away quite dramatically.

The most substantial work on the programme was Martinu’s sonata. A fiery allegro with difficult passage work admirably executed by both performers began this 1941 composition. There was a long section for piano only, as there was in the second movement (largo) also. This movement ended very calmly, with a sad undertone.

The allegro commodo (comfortable) finale was very fast, with repetitive figures on the piano which would have pleased the minimalists. Both cello and piano parts were very energetic and spirited. A cello cadenza was complex and demanding, to end this dynamic and exciting work.

The Piazzolla ‘free tango’ was fast, but good-tempered. There was much upper fingerboard work for the cellist, and off-beat rhythms abounded.

A good-sized audience heard two performers who played with superb technique and musical sensitivity – and Mapp was blessed with a skilful page-turner.

Boismortier, Joseph Bodin de (1689-1755): Trio in A minor (allegro, adagio, allegro)
Schubert: Adagio from Octet in F major, Op. 166
Beethoven: Duo no. 2 in F major (allegro, larghetto, allegro moderato)
Bach: Trio sonata in G major (adagio, allegro ma non presto, adagio e piano, presto)
Haydn: Trio no.3 in G major (spiritoso, andante, allegro)

Nikau Trio: Karen Batten (flute), Madeline Sakofsky (oboe), Margaret Guldborg (cello)

Old St. Paul’s,Mulgrave Stree

Tuesday, 12 July, 12.15 pm

A well-attended lunchtime concert on Tuesday heard a surprisingly comprehensive programme for an unusual combination of instruments. It began with a composer I had never heard of, who, according to the programme note, ‘wrote mainly instrumental and vocal music deliberately in a style that would please the listener and ensure his own wealth and success.’

Certainly it was attractive music. The first movement commenced with the flute and oboe doubling parts. This led to a lively and tuneful allegro. The adagio was perhaps a typical baroque slow movement, featuring delicious chords and suspensions. The final movement was fast and quite demanding, especially on the flutist. This work proved the Nikau Trio to be a very pleasing combination, each player having beautiful tone.

Next came one of Schubert’s gorgeous slow movements. At first, it featured oboe, with the others playing sotto voce. But as it progressed, there was not a lot of dynamic variation. As in some of Schubert’s orchestral works, there were rather too many repeats, and the movement outstays its welcome. However, there was a lovely flute and oboe passage, the cello entering at the end, as a kind of fulfilment of promise.

What followed was a duo for oboe and cello ostensibly, yet doubtfully, by Beethoven. (No such duos appear in the list of works by Beethoven in The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians.) Nevertheless, it was a thoroughly delightful piece. There was more variation of dynamics and expression in this work. The larghetto, entitled Aria, was in a minor key, while the allegro moderato final movement, Rondo, contained a lovely rubato with all the players absolutely together; as elsewhere, ensemble was immaculate.

The trio sonata was Bach at his contrapuntal best, weaving the parts into and through each other. The solo oboe passages, with the other players accompanying, were particularly fine. The final presto movement was pretty exacting, such was its speed.

The final work by good ol’ cheerful Papa Haydn was a splendid way to end the concert, with a final allegro that demonstrated his humour and sense of fun. The master used the instruments imaginatively, producing a jolly result. I couldn’t help thinking, though, that the more mellow sound of the wooden flute would blend better with the other two instruments and with the admirable acoustic of the wooden church interior.

The fluidity of the flute, the piquancy of the oboe and the majestic smoothness of the cello made for great enjoyment of this rare admixture.

A programme of two baroque works, two classical and one early Romantic work was quite an achievement, but perhaps the introduction of one modern piece might have been good, as a contrast. The printed programme notes were brief but informative; it is a pity that those for both Beethoven and Bach were marred by misrelated clauses.

Presumably the building work going on in the grounds of Old St. Paul’s was being done for the historic church, so surely the intermittent hammering could have been stopped the for the duration of the concert?

Psathas: A Cool Wind; Sibelius: String Quartet in D minor, ‘Voces intimae’; Beethoven: String Quartet in F, Op 59 No 1

Vesa-Matti Leppänen and Rebecca Struthers (violins), Andrew Thomson (viola), Rowan Prior (cello)

Ilott Theatre, Town Hall

Sunday 26 June, 3pm

Felix the Quartet, which is drawn from string players of the NZSO, has been going for more than a decade. Former concertmaster Wilma Smith was a founding member and her place was taken by incoming concertmaster Vesa-Matti Leppänen. If players of this calibre had been playing together as a full-time quartet over that time, I suspect the impact of their performances would be a little more uniformly well integrated and arresting then it sometimes is.

The first half of the concert, comprising Psathas’s A Cool Wind and Sibelius’s only mature quartet was somewhat unexciting, due partly to the music itself. Psathas’s piece is a subdued piece, inspired by the player of an Armenian wind instrument, the duduk. It inspired a meditative strain which persisted throughout both its sections, apart from a modest call to attention at the end of an introductory passage.

A modal character coloured a good deal of the writing, though the nasal quality of the duduk, mentioned by the composer, was scarcely audible. Hints of a Balkan melodic flavour, which may well be characteristic of the Caucasus region too, lent it an air of serious melancholy. A melody of sorts that first appeared on the first violin, passed from one instrument to another, over a pervasive rocking, two note motif; it found its most distinctive expression briefly on the viola. After the ‘call to attention’, the textures became more complex in an imperceptible, unobtrusive way, and led the listener onward without effort. I half expected the second movement to introduce a new tone, but the mood and the motifs and their accompanying devices recurred in substantially similar character, perhaps with certain modifications to the melodic ideas. Nevertheless, it provides cheering evidence of a Psathas other than a master of percussion-strong orchestral scores.

The shifting of the Sibelius quartet to the first half meant, as I remarked above, a too unrelieved melancholy quality throughout. Only the end of the last movement really raises the temperature from its series of varied but dispiriting and not very memorable melodies. That is in spite of the expectation in the scherzo-like second movement and the fourth movement, Allegretto, of greater liveliness, through their more emphatic rhythms. But the austerity of the music itself makes that difficult to achieve in spite of playing that was often on the verge of introducing more emotionally involving episodes. The heart-warming experiences of evolving, modulating ostinati that bring excitement and drama to most of the symphonies are sometimes hinted at but never realized.

The Allegro finale does inject a rather splendid stretto-style accelerando which perhaps leaves listeners with a happy impression, but for me it is too little, too late. However, I heard some appreciative remarks about the piece, and particularly about its performance, which was indeed a thoughtful and well-studied interpretation of this product of one of the more somber periods in Sibelius’s life.

The first of the three Razumovsky quartets filled the second half and seemed to me, at least, fully to have justified the whole concert. The opening bars from first violin and eventually more important cello set the tone of the entire performance, driven by high spirits, optimism, energy, and played with singular attention to detail, to dynamic nuances. The viola managed to secure some of the focus with the second subject, but that was only a passing phase as the principal theme again dominated the coda.

Though Rowan Prior’s lovely cello also opened the second movement, a more equitable distribution of responsibility followed as the first theme passes to second violin, then the viola to first violin: this is a most intriguing movement which Felix brought splendidly to life. The slow movement, in F minor, though essentially desolate in tone, the players never allowed to become less than deeply moving; at its end the first violin surreptitiously leads in to the finale. To me, the entire last movement seems to be a coda to the Adagio, never quite insisting on its own independence in spite of its sonata-form structure; it’s like a series of perorations that the composer cannot bear to allow to wind up.

For all the revelations and subtleties that the players brought to the two works in the first half, it was the Beethoven that, inevitably I guess, was the most persuasive, both as a musical masterpiece and in its performance, and it left the audience with a sense of complete fulfillment.