Tag: choral

Cello jamboree at the school of music and Nota Bene’s light-hearted 10th anniversary

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Cellophonia IV – an ensemble of some 25 cellos, led by Inbal Megiddo, Andrew Joyce and Ashley Brown

Arrangements of music by Vivaldi, Grieg, Beethoven and Bach, and some carols

Adam Concert Room, Victoria University

Sunday 14 December, 4 pm, 2014

And carols of all kinds from Nota Bene at the Prefab, Jessie Street

Thursday 11 December, 7 pm

The fourth annual jamboree for several of the professional and many students and amateur cellists took place this year, not in the Hunter Council Chamber as previously, but in the School of Music’s Adam Concert Room. A smaller audience than I recall at earlier concerts was perhaps the effect of a slightly  less interesting venue.

But the acoustics are very good and the big body of cellos produced a very well-upholstered and satisfying sound. The sheer numbers and the less than exemplary precision of playing from some of the less experienced seemed not to reduce the musical pleasure. As with a choir where, if well led, a sufficient body of singers can produce a thrilling sound.

Vivaldi’s Concerto for four violins, No 10 of Opus 3 was a splendid way to open. The arrangement of one of the set known as L’Estro Armonico, pitting four of the most experienced players – Megiddo, Brown, Joyce and Heleen du Plessis (cello lecturer at Otago University) against the extra large ripieno of amateurs and students, was most convincing. The very opening was compelling, grunty and full of arresting solo episodes. The uninformed might never have guessed that it was not conceived for cellos. The character of each movement was strikingly contrasted, interestingly thoughtful in the Largo and there was some spectacular playing by the four principal players in the final Allegro.

Grieg is a composer who, in my youth, was routinely ranked among the great, but in recent decades seems to have lost some of that renown, slipping somewhat to the fringe with only Peer Gynt, Sigurd Jorsalfar, Symphonic Dances, Holberg Suite, Piano Concerto and Lyric pieces, a number of which are familiar. I suspect it was his very strong melodic gift and lack of music of symphonic structure that caused his demotion, especially as the exclusivity of atonalism and serialism tended to discourage the valuing of melody. But recently, as those academic forces have lost much of their exclusivity, I detect a re-evaluation of Grieg’s earlier recognized music and more interest in and admiration for his other chamber music, songs and orchestral music.

Here we had charming and idiomatic arrangements of a couple of the well-known Lyric Pieces of Op 17 and Åse’s Death from Peer Gynt: after this rich and somber performance, who’d want to hear Åse’s Death played by any other instruments? The Shepherd’s Song responded beautifully with the cellos’ rich handling of Grieg’s harmonic palette. The Peasant Dance was highly diverting – phrases and parts moving from group to group, according to pizzicato or bowed melodic or in the performance of accompanying figures.

The four leaders changed places in the Grieg: Joyce, Du Plessis, Brown and Megiddo.

The first two pieces were arranged by Canadian cellist Claude Kenneson. The second two – Beethoven and Bach – were by English cellist Stephen Watkins.

The first of the latter’s arrangements was the Allegretto movement from Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony in which the young players handled much of the very manageable exposition, the echoing responses by the professionals. Its fugal section emerged with fine clarity, the cellos demonstrating their wide tonal and pitch range.

As Margaret Guldborg took her place as one of the four principal cellists, the most impressive of these arrangements was presented: the Chaconne from Bach’s second violin partita. Here it was, in a version whose opulence and variety, along with a few fleeting references to the cello suites, rival the great piano version by Busoni. I realised at once that Bach had intended it for a cello ensemble, and that the discovery of his original autograph for such an ensemble is only a matter of time. All the harmonies implicit in Bach’s violin version were here, not in full colour perhaps, but in surprising variety and heart-warming richness.

The last part of the programme  comprised a string of well-known carols played with the help of a few audience members who happened to have their cellos with them (I’d left mine behind). These were fairly straightforward, possibly played somewhat by ear. Without the feeling of obligation to do all the verses (one of the trials with normal hymn and carol singing) each was just enough to enjoy before tedium set in. The length and style of this episode was well judged; the whole was a fine variety of novelty, reward, revived interest and fun.

At the concert’s end the newly appointed director of the school of music (now back under the sole patrimony of Victoria University), Euan Murdoch, spoke, in part to introduce himself returning to the school where he had taught earlier for some years, and as a cellist.

This concert was indeed a vivid example of the kind of activity that Murdoch will surely be encouraging – the engaging with young performers and amateur musicians as well as reaching effectively to the general musical population of Wellington, which I hope will be accomplished if the school can move as suggested into the Civic Centre (WITHOUT, please, touching the Ilott Green! – Wellington is very short of green spaces in the CBD).

 

Carols from Note Bene

While I’m at it, I must mention a different concert, on Thursday the 11th. In a fairly new café on Jessie Street, the Prefab, the adventurous choir Nota Bene, established ten years ago by Christine Argyle, held an anniversary concert at which a variety of carols familiar and unfamiliar were sung. Food was supplied free by the café management and donations from the crowd were for the Wellington City Mission. It was also announced that Christine, who conducted this concert,  was departing as director of the choir.

The café was furnished with its normal chairs and tables and the bar was open: there was not a seat to be had, as crowds hung over the rail along the mezzanine balcony and up the stairs.

Offerings were delightfully varied, starting with the 15th century carol ‘There is no rose’ and the Caribbean carol ‘The Virgin Mary had a baby boy’. A Latvian carol followed coached by the choir’s Latvian member (Inese Berzina?), John Rutter’s ‘What sweeter music’, Grieg’s ‘Ave Maris Stella’, a Catalonian carol and Bob Chilcott’s ‘Nova, Nova’, as a Latin language tabloid daily in Bethlehem might well have printed the news on what we now call Boxing Day.

And it ended with a few super-well-known carols whose names escape me.

It was all very much as one has come to expect from this very special bunch of singers who seem to present a choral voice and face of unusual, irreverent fun and serious enjoyment.

For sale was their anniversary CD which proved, as soon as I got home, to be one of the most delightful choral recordings I’ve heard for a very long time: it’ll have a permanent place in the car for many months I’d guess.

 

Splendid Orpheus Choir and NZSO shine along with Madeleine Pierard in Trans-Tasman Messiah

Posted on by admin

New Zealand Symphony Orchestra and the Orpheus Choir of Wellington conducted by Stephen Mould

Handel: Messiah

Soloists: Madeleine Pierard – soprano, Jacqueline Dark – mezzo-soprano, Paul McMahon – tenor, James Clayton – bass

Michael Fowler Centre

Saturday 13 December 2014

Handel’s Messiah remains a work of perennial popularity, be it in great cities of the Old World, or in tiny provincial settlements clinging to specks of land in far flung southern oceans. Whether presented by massed singers and a huge orchestra or a small parish choir with traditional harmonium, its magic never fails to evoke wonder and worship. There must be very few works which can claim such status across all sectors of the public – from the regular cognoscenti of classical concert goers to the family from the local gospel hall making their sole visit each year to a concert hall. Saturday’s performance saw an NZSO ensemble of 37 players plus harpsichord and chamber organ, in tandem with 150 voices from the Orpheus Choir, four soloists with extensive experience in professional operatic roles and oratorio, and conductor Stephen Mould from a predominantly opera background.

As always, the NZSO provided an impeccable contribution of total technical skill and musicianship with never a hint of laissez faire from musicians who must have played this work umpteen times. Rather, they responded to Handel’s mastery and magic with the freshness of discovering Messiah for the first time. The choristers too threw themselves into the performance with a fire that suggested they’d been waiting all year for this opportunity. Considerable demands were made on their technique through the tempi imposed by Mould in many of the highly elaborate fugal numbers, but the choir was quite undaunted. Soprano and bass lines managed to survive, in fact the sopranos sparkled, but the middle voices were less comfortable. However accurate their high speed runs, they could not be cleanly discerned at such speeds, and were therefore denied their rightful place in the wonderful complexity and richness of Handel’s contrapuntal textures. It was an approach to Baroque interpretation that had me sympathizing with a fellow listener who remarked that “the conductor must have an early train to catch”. Handel had gone to the trouble of selecting every single one of those notes in the amazing florid lines of his fugues, and such quick tempi seemed to cloud his intentions. All power to the choristers that they stepped up to the plate with such determination and aplomb. The tempi of the grand chorale-style sections was, by contrast, almost always stately and dignified, and Mould’s shaping of dynamics enhanced every number in the work, so I was left wondering how that same sympathy and sureness of touch had deserted him in the fugues..

The soloists were all Australian bar New Zealand soprano Madeleine Pierard, who proved to be the standout performer of the four.  (Though James Clayton now lives in Wellington. Ed.), With effortless grace and consummate technical command she traversed the whole gamut of soprano numbers: her great artistry in ‘He shall feed His flock’ left her duo partner mezzo Jacqueline Dark somewhat in the shadows – a position she occupied throughout the evening as her voice simply did not have the power needed to project the mid-range in the Michael Fowler Centre. By contrast Pierard’s incisive technique made mincemeat of numbers like ‘Rejoice greatly’, where she was in full coloratura flight that was frankly riveting, even while the Mould’s challenging tempo was imposing undue haste upon Handel’s music.

Tenor Paul McMahon sometimes had problems with projection too, but his numbers were always competent if in places lacking sufficient energy. Bass James Clayton, however, had the commanding stature, presence and voice to excite considerable attention in his more dramatic arias, particularly in the fury of those like ‘Why do the nations?’ But all up I was left wondering why New Zealand conductors and singers were, yet again, passed over by NZSO management in favour of those from offshore. There is an abundance of New Zealand talent which could have done, in some instances, a better job. The Australians may be able to best us consistently on the cricket pitch, but that is no reason to behave as though they do on the concert stage. I thought we were supposed to have grown out of the cultural cringe, but it seems not yet. New Zealand audiences deserve better, but it appears one must still live in hope………

On that cultural note, I could not help reflecting on how extraordinarily fortunate we may be tucked away on these tiny islands falling off the bottom of the planet but our musical heritage is incredibly rich and varied. Not only is there the great Judeo-Christian tradition which has given birth to innumerable musical treasures like Messiah, but from the mid C20th century we have been discovering our own unique musical voices, be they Maori or pakeha. These in turn reflect the character of our land, where none lives far from the sea, the mountains, the lakes, or the grinding tectonic plates – so totally different from those other European and Levantine origins. Here we can enjoy it all, and the enthusiasm and appreciation of Saturday’s full turn-out demonstrated that we relish the opportunity to do so. In spite of some interpretive qualms, this Messiah was a splendid ending to the NZSO’s concert year.

 

Bach Choir’s Stephen Rowley bows out in style

Posted on by Peter Mechen

The Bach Choir of Wellington presents:
CANTATAS AND CAROLS

JS BACH – Cantata No.140 “Wachet auf, ruft die Stimme”
– Cantata No.191 “Gloria in excelsis Deo”
Traditional Carols for choir and audience

Nicola Holt (soprano)
Adrian Lowe (tenor)
Simon Christie (baritone)
The Bach Choir of Wellington
The Chiesa Ensemble (Rebecca Struthers – leader)
Douglas Mews (organ)
Stephen Rowley (conductor)

St.Joseph’s Church, Mt.Victoria, Wellington

Saturday 6th December 2014

This concert marked the conclusion of conductor Stephen Rowley’s tenure as music director of the Bach Choir of Wellington, a position he took over from Nigel Williams in 2008. A glance at the repertoire performed by the choir during this time attests to the rich variety of music experienced by the group under Rowley’s expert direction. Appropriately, his final collaboration with the choir featured the music of Bach, as well as appropriately involving the audience via a selection of well-known carols.

I had not been in the venue, St.Joseph’s Church in Mt.Victoria, since the old church was demolished in 2003 and the completely new building constructed. I must confess that the updated result feels to my antediluvian sensibilities less like a church than a concert hall, and, in fact  the acoustic amply justifies its use as such. Being a last-minute arrival at the concert I had to be content with seats that were so far to one side of the centre that I thought the performing balances would seem somewhat awry – but I was instead charmed by the clarity and warmth of the sound from my ostensibly unfavourable position.

Centrally-placed and to the back of the altar-area was the choir, with the soloists in the front row, immediately behind the orchestra, the Chiesa Ensemble (a period-performance ensemble made up of a group of NZSO players), and with the organist over to one side at the console, the conductor standing midships in front of the audience.Though the soloists and instrumentalists weren’t facing me, their tones were given sufficient ambient warmth to carry throughout the venue.

Cantata 140 began the concert, a gorgeous work, though one with the initial misfortune to have been written for the 27th Sunday after Trinity, a liturgical date which occurs only when Easter is more than usually early. Fortunately, present-day performances of these works rely far less on prompting by actual dates, even if the occasional co-incidence brings extra festivity and feeling for the occasion.

Some extraordinarily difficult part-writing in the opening “Wachet auf” for chorus in places tested but didn’t defeat the choir, and the instrumental support was glorious. The following tenor recitative, “Er kommt, er kommt, der Brautigam kommt” brought out both clarion tones and sweetly-turned lines in other places from the soloist, Adrian Lowe, after which Nicola Holt and Simon Christie undertook their aria duet “Wenn kommst du, mein Heil?” to my ears taking a few measures to get the “pitch’ of the lines, before settling down with some lovely “floated” notes.

Then came the famous “Zion hört die Wächter singen” with its much-loved melody dancing in tandem with the chorale-like step-wise utterances of the tenor soloist, the juxtaposition of the two making for a fine edge of contrasted separation which kept the contact-points open. This was a lovely, buoyant performance, giving the lie to the famous conductor Sir Thomas Beecham’s amusing but gratuitous remark about the dreariness of Bach’s “Protestant counterpoint”.

From here on the performance really fired, with the deeply-felt bass recitative “So geh herein zu mir” galvanized by another duet from Nicola Holt and Simon Christie “Mein Freund ist mein”, during which the pair really sparkled, aided and abetted by lovely oboe playing and strong continuo support from Eleanor Carter’s cello, with Douglas Mews, as always, a tower of strength at the organ. Stephen Rowley’s direction produced a full-throated response from the choir throughout the final chorale “Gloria sei dir gesungen”.

A warm sense of audience involvement was established through interspersing a performance-bracket of carols with some traditional favorites. We all enjoyed ourselves no end, being entertained in between times by the choir’s performances of Terence Maskell’s arrangements of various medieval carols. The men introduced Alleluya, a new work is come on hand in great style and with terrific verve, contrasting this with a gentler treatment of In dulci jubilee. A trio of women’s voices nicely projected There is a flower over wordless accompaniments, with well-controlled variants (some nervous “alleluias” notwithstanding), and finishing with the original threesome over gentle wordless harmonies once again.

Though these weren’t the Maori words I taught my school choirs back in the days of yore, I nevertheless enjoyed the colour-tones of the Maori-English sounds in Silent Night. I loved the choral writing for A spotless rose, all wind-blown and out-of-doors, giving the choir plenty of vertiginous lines to hold onto, though the descents into quiet concluding cadences obviously brought some relief. Everybody sounded more at home with Tomorrow shall be my dancing day, the women energetic and true, and the men’s off-beat entries nicely managed. I didn’t know the concluding Wexford Carol but it was a joy to hear the piece open up and knit together, the writing allowing men and women a varied and satisfying interaction of dynamics and colours.

Cantata 191 was one I didn’t know – or so I thought! – how wonderful, therefore, to be presented with the opening of the B Minor Mass’s “Gloria” right at the outset! This, the only cantata that uses Latin, is based on an even earlier work written by JSB in 1733, one which, in true Baroque fashion, he used in his B Minor Mass fifteen years later – but three years earlier he had put together this cantata for a Christmas Day service in Leipzig from much the same music. What a guy!

As with the opening of other “festive” works by Bach – the Christmas Oratorio, and the Magnificat come immediately to mind – this music instantly galvanizes the spirit, the thrill of those opening brass calls punctuated by timpani giving one goosebumps (especially when, as here, the pleasure was an unexpected one!). And the choir held its own up splendidly in the midst of these festive sounds, all of the voices matching the instrumentalists in exuberance at the beginning, and the women doing well with their lines at “bonae voluntatis”, the different sections handling the ensuing contrapuntal lines with aplomb.

The work’s second part is a shortened setting of the beautiful duet “Domine Deus” from the same “Gloria”, here, using a different text – this was an enchanting sequence, beautiful flute-playing at the beginning, and soprano and tenor completely at ease together, filling out their lines with winsome grace, and intertwining their voices most beguilingly, as did the flutes with and around the string accompaniments.

The choir’s vigorous attack at the finale’s beginning “Sicut erat in principio” was echoed by brass and timpani, the performers relishing both words and musical phrases, keeping the momentum buoyant and the tones festive and bright. The voices kept their trajectories on task throughout the demanding “et nun et semper” sections – Bach’s writing is characteristically challenging, and at times the ensemble lost its poise for a measure or three, though never for too long, strings, flutes, oboes and brass made bright, pungent tonal combinations, underpinned by the timpani, the music joyously driving to a heartwarming conclusion.

A presentation to Stephen Rowley from the Choir itself followed immediately after the concert – the occasion made for a happy and successful conclusion to what seems to have been an interesting and colourful era in the Bach Choir’s history.

 

Entertaining Christmas concert from the Northern Chorale

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Northern Chorale: Waits, Wassailers and Star Singers

Rutter: Brother Heinrich’s Christmas

Music by Mendelssohn and arrangements of traditional carols

Conducted by Monika Smith, with Jonathan Berkahn (piano and organ), Elizabeth Warren (oboe) and Penny Miles (bassoon)

St. Barnabas Church, Khandallah

Sunday, 30 November 2014, 2.30pm

It was a new take on Christmas music to present a selection of songs that were traditionally sung by carollers in their neighbourhoods, expecting to be rewarded with food and drink.  Monika Smith’s brief, entertaining introductions to the songs made it clear that it was often the reward that was the focus, rather than the music.

The concert opened with a traditional carol, ‘Resonet in laudibus’ sung as a processional.  This was followed by the well-known ‘Sleepers Wake’, but in Mendelssohn’s version rather than the more familiar Bach setting.  Here I found the piano rather too loud, and thought the organ would have been a more appropriate accompanying instrument, given that the version was from the oratorio St. Paul, in which there would have been orchestra.

The carol ‘Up!  Good Christen folk and listen’ I found too slow compared with other performances I have heard.  It made the carol seem rather dull, and the choir lacking in energy.  However, this aspect improved during the concert, not least in Stainer’s version of ‘God rest you merry, gentlemen’ and ‘Here we come a-wassailing’.  This last featured some solos from choir members – not of an even standard.  After another wait carol, arranged by David Willcocks, we came to some German Sternsingerlied, or Star Singers Songs.

Die Heilige Königen, from Bavaria, is traditionallysung by children carrying a large star on a pole – it was duly held by a choir member.  The singing in these folksy songs was more cohesive.  The next one was quite humorous, with complaints about having an ox in the stable with the baby.  It was sung in a characteristic folksy manner, with especially pleasing singing from the women of the choir.  What followed was a folksong from Silesia, in which the women sing, representing Mary who asks her husband for assistance, as you would if rocking a cradle on a cold, windy mountain-top.  However, his fingers are too frozen to help.  The women began well, but the singing became rather dull, and the attacks at the beginning of phrases were not good.

The lengthy Vaughan Williams arrangement of the Gloucestershire Wassail had unison singing of considerable gusto.  Despite some slight intonation wobbles, the carol was sung well, and the performance was enlivened by large cardboard animals, drawn with great accuracy, parading at the back of the choir at appropriate moments.

John Rutter’s Brother Heinrich’s Christmas is delightful, but does not contain a lot of singing for the choir, though their contribution was good.   The story, capably narrated by several choir members is full of delight, as are Rutter’s piano accompaniment and especially the use of the oboe and the bassoon, the latter representing the donkey Sigismund, also  represented by a large stuffed donkey, who periodically took his place in the  choir.  His part in assisting Heinrich with the writing of ‘In dulci jubilo’ is amusingly rendered.

A couple of audience carols accompanied on organ presaged the last item ‘We wish you a merry Christmas’, which a false entry from the men managed to turn into somewhat of a shambles. But perhaps it was all part of the fun.

 

 

Tudor Consort with marvellous music: Motets by Bach and settings of the texts by others

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

“Singet dem Herrn”: The Tudor Consort, directed by Michael Stewart

Music by J S Bach, Sven-David Sandström, William Byrd, Hugo Distler

Sacred Heart Cathedral

Saturday, 29 November 2014, 7.30pm

The programme revolved around three of Bach’s motets: Singet dem Herrn, Lobet den Herrn alle Heiden, and the incomparable Jesu, meine Freude.  The other works were settings of the same or related texts by other composers, some with a conscious nod to Bach.

One notable characteristic of the superb Tudor Consort is the involvement of the singers in what they are presenting.  This is shown by accuracy, attention to detail, fine vocal production, variation of expression through word stress and dynamics, and clarity of words.  The singers’ faces reflect this involvement; singers in some choirs look as though mentally they are somewhere else.  This must be the only choir with more men than women members (13 to12).

The opening motet by Bach, Singet dem Herrn ein neues Lied (‘Sing to the Lord a new song’, not ‘Sing to the Lord no new song’, as the German title as printed had it) was lively, the performance emphasising the sprightly rhythm.  The well-balanced choir gave punch to the joyful nature of the words, from Psalm 149.

For the Bach items Michael Stewart played the continuo on a small (or box) positive pipe organ, which many in the audience, including me, could hear but not see.  This in no way dominated, but provided the continuo basis such as the composer would have employed. The intricacy of Bach’s counterpoint was all there, but was never an end in itself.

The choir’s tone was very fine, and enhanced by the venue.  There was interesting dynamic variation, and only one aberration that I heard.  However, it was disappointing to see so many of the choir, especially the men, stuck in their scores.  Even though there may not have been the same need to watch the conductor, since he was limited by his playing in the conducting gestures he could give, looking up enhances a choir’s communication with its audience.

As a contrast to the bright mood of the motet’s opening Psalm, the following Chorale sung by half the choir, ‘Wie sich ein Vater erbarmet’ (As a father is merciful) was beautifully peaceful and smooth.  Choir 2’s aria was a plea to God for his care, interspersed with the Chorale. Finally, all sang words from Psalm 150.

After the motet, Michael Stewart addressed some remarks to the audience concerning the work, and the work to follow, by contemporary Swedish composer Sven-David Sandström.  It was based on words from Psalm 117: Lobet den Herrn alle Heiden (Praise the Lord, all nations).  The brief programme
note informed us that the composer ‘wrote his own set of six motets using the same texts as J S Bach.  Indeed, much of his choral music since the 1990s has been written “in the footsteps of Bach”’.

His unaccompanied work proved to be complex, with many cross-rhythms. However, it was very much choral music, with effective use of the words, and giving plenty of opportunity for the choir to exhibit its splendid tone colours.  As the interlocking interjections sped up, words were no longer distinguishable.  A passage of smooth harmony, followed, a passage of great beauty, its multiple parts shifting the harmony in unexpected ways to wonderful effect.  The concluding ‘Alleluia’ began sounding really angelic, but became quite impassioned.

The Bach version of the same motet saw the choir regroup, and Michael Stewart return to the organ.  Again the complexity of the writing did not obscure the beauty of the music nor of the words, which were delivered in impeccable German.

Praise our Lord all ye Gentiles by William Byrd brought forth a lovely sound from the choir, featuring the altos and the men only.  This 6-part motet was unaccompanied, and notable for much decoration of the words, and long melismatic passages.  The Renaissance idiom and style was a refreshing change from the complexities of the Baroque.

Hugo Distler’s Singet dem Herrn ein neues Lied (again put in the negative in the heading!) was not written to the same words as the opening Bach work, despite the opening lines; in this case the words are from Psalm 98.   Distler, too, was a follower of Bach and the Baroque style.  Like the Byrd piece, this was sung unaccompanied.

The work opened with a strong sound from the men.  Despite being neo-baroque, there were harmonies that would have astonished Bach – some were stark and angular.  However, the cadences were almost uniformly delicious, and the work was of considerable rhythmic variety.  As with the Sandström work, this was unfamiliar music that was well worth hearing.

To end the programme, the Tudor Consort performed Bach’s lengthy motet Jesu, Meine Freude.  Its eleven movements alternate quotations from Romans, chapter 8, with chorales meditating upon the Biblical words, written by Johann Frank in 1650.  To my mind this is one of the most beautiful and most satisfying choral works.  It is wonderfully varied in its expression of words, and of faith.  It is one of the supreme works of Bach, performed all too seldom – but making such an occasion as this to be all the
more treasured.

The choir, accompanied on the organ, sang the opening chorale with commitment and expressiveness.  The following chorus, the first of the quotations from Romans, was sung with subtlety and great attention to expression and varying the dynamics.  The chorale commenting on the Biblical passage provides a feast of word-painting, with its talk of storms, of Satan, and particularly of thunder and lightning.

The next passage from Romans was sung by trebles only, the writing being utterly delicate.  Despite a few wonky notes, the effect was pleasing indeed.  Its chorale speaks of defiance to death and the strength of God.  Its positive mood was rendered by the harmony, sequences and cadences.

The passage about being of the spirit rather than the flesh began with men only, and was full of complex counterpoint.  The florid passages were certainly not easy to sing, and a few notes came out flat.  After the next chorale, the following chorus’s opening (‘However, if Christ is in you…’) is tranquil and peaceful, but gives way to counterpoint of great complexity for all parts, only for all to come together for a glorious ending.

The chorale ‘Gute Nacht’ is utterly magical, moving from simple soprano and alto parts to contrasting ornate parts for the men.  The treble parts come into their own complexity briefly, before the chorale melody weaves between all parts.  A spirit of contemplation is paramount in this movement.

A jubilant chorus celebrating the resurrection of Christ and of believers leads to the final chorale, which restates the motet’s opening chorale melody and harmony for its contemplation that ends with Jesu, meine Freude (‘Jesus, my joy’).  Strongly sung, this revealed again excellent balance and mellifluous tone.

The audience enthusiasm proved, if proof were necessary, that all had enjoyed an evening of rewarding and uplifting music-making.  I felt honoured to have heard this marvellous music.  It was a musical and spiritual treat.

 

 

Large audience hear unfamiliar Christmas music in enthusiastic performance by Festival Singers

Posted on by admin

Festival Singers. Director: Jonathan Berkhan

Feliz Navidid – A South American Christmas
Music from the 16th to 21st centuries

Accompanist: Thomas Nikora; tenor solo: Joe Fecteau; guitar: Bernard Wells; percussion: Ingrid Schoenfeld, Monika Smith; bass: Samuel Berkahn

Jonathan Berkahn: Gloria
Pedro de Cristo: Es nasçido
Pedro Bermúdez: Christus natus est nobis
Gaspar Fernandes: Xicochi xicochi
Domenico Zipoli: Organ pieces from his Sonate d’intavolatura
José Maurício Nunes Garcia: Two responsories from Matinas do Natal. (no 2: Hodie nobis de coelo pax and No 4: O magnum mysterium
Ariel Ramírez: Misa Criolla (Kyrie, Gloria, Agnus Dei)
Jonathan Berkahn: Gloria

Bravo Ensemble: accordion: Emilio Bertrand; piano: Thomas Nikora; violin: Slava Fainitski; violin: Sarah Martin; viola: David Daniela; cello: Brenton Veitch; contrabass: Louis van der Mespel

Astor Piazzolla: Five Tangos

Island Bay Presbyterian Church

Friday 28 November 2014

This festive concert programme drew a large audience to the Island Bay Presbyterian Church, and it was apparent from the first bar that the choristers hugely enjoyed singing it. The opening Gloria by the choir’s director Jonathan Berkahn immediately set the scene with its vigorous, bouncy rhythms and easy harmonies, cleverly offset by a central section of more stately and peaceful mood. The following three items formed a most interesting bracket of contrasted works from three of many Baroque missionary priest-musicians who moved out from Europe, taking their musical and ecclesiastical traditions with them, and developed these in the fresh environment of the New World.

Es nasçido is a Portuguese nativity hymn of full-bodied harmonies and traditional Baroque chorale tonalities, which was given a warm and enthusiastic delivery. Christus natus est nobis was more subdued, and displayed clear part singing from the various interweaving choral voices. And the third item, the lullaby Xicochi xicochi sung for the baby Jesus in the Aztec language, was a beautifully crafted piece, using solo guitar accompaniment. It opened with women’s voices only, and was marked by gently lilting melodies, later offset by busier syncopated rhythms from the men. It was a remarkably liberal fusion of Old and New World elements resulting in a composition that had moved a very considerable way from contemporary European practice.

We were treated next to two organ pieces from Domenico Zipoli’s Sonate d’intavolatura, very masterfully played by Jonathan Berkahn. The first was a Pastorale, in structure and style very reminiscent of the Pastoral Symphony in Handel’s Messiah. Gentle triplet figures wove attractively over the top of a rich bass pedal note, with a brief and lively episode providing contrast in the centre. The following number was an Offertory, where busy contrapuntal development unfolded once again over a bass pedal, culminating in a closing coda of rich, full throated chords. Jonathan Berkahn had voiced both pieces to show off the very best of the electronic organ, and they provided a very successful contrast to the other works in the programme.

José Garcia apparently wrote a huge amount of both choral and instrumental music, from which Berkahn had selected two responsories from Christmas Matins. Their full, warm harmonies, warmly delivered, closed off most satisfactorily this selection of works that gave the audience a fascinating glimpse into Baroque music making in the New World.

Bravo Ensemble was given a free hand by the director, and they chose five tangos by the well known 20th century composer Astor Piazzolla. Though born in Argentina, he spent most of his life in the USA, and these pieces displayed a very wide range of stylistic influences including the traditional dance tango, jazz, Joplin-esque ragtime, modern music, you name it. All were rooted in the fundamental tango idioms, but the first piece was a wild celebratory dance, while the second oozed slow, sultry rhythms, and lazy melodies full of veiled innuendo, where you could almost smell the smoke rings wafting on the warm night air.

The central number was composed on the day Piazzolla’s father died, and it captured so vividly the violently conflicting emotions of grief and loss. Episodes of deep contemplative sadness, marked by exquisite melodic writing and rich harmonies, were contrasted with others which raged, raged against the dying of the light, recalling Dylan Thomas’ extraordinary poem written as his father too approached death.

The Bravo Ensemble marked every phrase and mood with a passion and dedication that elevated this particular number to an artistic level I had never associated with traditional tango music. But likewise the next piece was a work of art in a very special way – an exquisite accordion melody floated over swaying tango rhythms and rich harmonies from the strings, underpinned by a pizzicato bass line beautifully crafted by Louis van der Mespel, which swelled from the whisper of the opening bars, through the rich sonorities of the central section, and faded finally into a breathless pianissimo close.

The last number was called Ave Maria, a title which had me wondering how this hallowed Catholic prayer might sit with tango. In Piazzolla’s creative hands, however, it proved to be an extraordinary marriage. No arbitrary boundaries here between sacred and profane –  even the term “sacred dance” seemed artificial. The depths of tango sensuality were somehow in complete harmony with the profundities of religious experience. It was a piece that rounded off a truly eye-opening selection of compositions in tango form. I don’t know whether any of them has ever been set to dance, but it would be fascinating to see how creative choreographers/dancers would express the huge range of emotions and idioms they encapsulate. Thank you Jonathan Berkahn for the inspired inclusion of this bracket in the programme.

The choral programme was rounded off by three movements from Ariel Ramírez’ Misa Criolla. The director explained that the decision in 1963 by Vatican II to allow mass in the vernacular had led the creative flood gates to burst wide open in South America. This 1964 work used a tenor soloist, choristers and instrumental accompaniment to achieve a very creative and different setting for the mass. A lyrical tenor solo above muted humming voices marked the Kyrie setting, then a colourful instrumental introduction led into the vigorous jazzy dance rhythms of the Gloria. A calm central episode had the tenor declaiming the text above quiet choral writing before a repeat of the opening section.

The audience loved this enthusiastic movement, which was followed by the calm of the Agnus Dei. Here the tenor voice again floated above the humming choristers, to bring the number to a beautifully serene close. Joe Fecteau handled the solo tenor role very ably with a voice that has some attractive timbres, yet is crying out to be trained. There is real potential there that would merit some skilled teaching and development.

The evening closed very aptly with a repeat performance of Jonathan Berkahn’s vigorous Gloria.

It rounded off a thoroughly enjoyable evening’s music making, where the director had very skilfully put together a programme offering a glimpse into a whole world of South American musical tradition that most of the audience would, I imagine, have been previously quite unaware of. The concert was built around the central theme of Christmas, yet it spanned an astonishing breadth of styles, all of which the musicians took easily in their stride.

The enthusiasm of both singers and players was infectious, and it caught up everyone in an evening that was a refreshing celebration of this great Christian festival. No matter that modern scholarship has revealed more myth making than history in the gospel stories – their musical traditions are clearly still alive and well-loved in a world now full of plastic commercialism.

Feliz Navidad!

 

 

Orchestra Wellington ends its year in blaze of irreverent glory

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Orff: Carmina Burana; Haydn: Symphony No 87 in A.

Arohanui Strings, an El Sistema-inspired programme providing string instruments and tuition to children from deprived areas: at Pomare and Taita Central schools

Orchestra Wellington, the Orpheus Choir and Wellington Young Voices, conducted by Marc Taddei

Michael Fowler Centre

Saturday 15 November, 7:30 pm

This last of Orchestra Wellington’s most successful 2014 subscription series not only delivered the last of the Haydn’s Paris symphonies, but brought together Wellington’s other major, locally-specific musical organization: the Orpheus Choir, to perform what is one of the most popular, large-scale compositions. Also called for in Carmina Burana is a children’s choir and Christine Argyle led Wellington Young Voices to contribute that element.

In the first half, Haydn’s No 87 was given a splendid, full-blooded performance, opening in four-square, positive spirit, staccato and emphatic. Only in the development section of the first movement does Haydn temper the joy, saying, ‘But look here! Life’s no bed of roses’. And Taddei lent emphasis to the caution by his exaggerated pauses between sections.

Several wind players had their place in the sun, particularly the oboe, in the Trio of the Minuet. And while the Finale resumes the optimism of the first movement, Haydn again makes us pause with his not uncommon phantom endings that can lead to untimely applause. Not here though; yet, after what I thought an utterly delightful and characterful performance, the applause petered out rather abruptly.

The concert also offered the opportunity for a high-profile appearance of Arohanui Strings, founded in the Hutt Valley by Orchestra Wellington violinist Alison Eldredge and inspired by the Venezuelan-originated El Sistema; the project involves children from less favoured areas learning instruments and playing in an orchestral setting. The performance began with a simplification of the opening of Mozart’s Eine kleine Nachtmusik, with many of the more experienced children sitting at the orchestral desks alongside members of the Orchestra: pretty good!

Then another group of younger children carrying violins emerged from both sides and took up their places across the front of the stage, ranged in size from left to a surprisingly small girl on the right (her evident feeling for rhythm, at least, must have drawn the audience’s attention particularly). They followed Alison’s gestures, all lifting their violins in unison, and placing them professionally under the chin. They played Pachelbel’s Canon and then a square dance by Brooker and an approximation of the tune known to Mozart as ‘Ah! Vous dirai-je Maman’, the English version known as Twinkle, twinkle, little star’.

The whole affair had the faces of the audience wreathed in smiles. It was a delightful episode.

But it’s not enough for such an important phenomenon to exist as a result of isolated initiatives in one or two places nationwide. These things should be funded and guided, though better not actually run, by the Ministry of Education.

As if that wasn’t enough of delightful diversion, one of the most astonishing pieces of music of any era filled the second half. Perhaps we should forget that Carmina Burana was written by a German composer, in Germany, just before the Second World War; at the time when the music of most classical composers, especially the Jews, was being classified as degenerate by the Hitler regime, this work was a success and was acclaimed by the cultural gestapo. It’s a wonder that Orff was not, like Wagner, condemned for being approved by a nasty political regime.

Though many of the poems, written in medieval Latin and various vernaculars, were the work of students and clerics, piety is hardly present; it is the secular, popular notion of Fortune that rules, and perhaps it was the rather irreligious, satirical, earthy, not to say occasionally bawdy character of the texts that allowed the Nazis, notably heathen, to feel comfortable with the work.

The Michael Fowler Centre was emphatically the right place for this performance. First, because contrary to much ‘informed opinion’, I like the place as a whole, including the acoustic, which does have varying sound characteristics in different areas of the auditorium; and Saturday’s  full house would have meant hundreds turned away from any other suitable city venue.

Timpani and brass launched the performance with a mighty, stunning attack which established a benchmark for the rest of the evening. There was no lack of fortissimo and sheer energy (a different thing) from the choir and orchestra; the staccato assertions from the men’s chorus, with chilling side drum, of the inevitability of Fate in ‘O Fortuna’, the medieval notion that underpins many of the miscellaneous poems and songs, also set a standard that never slackened. Nevertheless, the many rejoicing episodes were no less convincing as the Springtime songs proved, illustrated with choral and orchestral colours. One of the main delights of the work lies with the varied and pungent use of individual sections of the choir, sometimes small and sweet as in ‘Floret silva…’  which drew attention to the many younger voices in the choir.

The children’s choir becomes an important element in the third part, Cour d’amours, and though I wrote in my scribbled notes ‘not unduly perfect in ensemble’, the sheer innocence of their voices worked its magic.

Three very fine soloists were a major strength. First, Australian baritone James Clayton who entered with ‘Omnia sol temperat’ and grew in histrionic impact with every successive entry. He became a one-man theatrical performance with his combination of vocal and gestural energy.

It’s curious that the biographical note about James Clayton omited his earlier New Zealand connections. Middle C records his performances in Rigoletto (Count Ceprano) in 2012, in the bass part in the Mozart edition of The Messiah from Orchestra Wellington and Voices New Zealand Chamber Choir in June 2013 and this year the totally over-the-top Baron Ochs in Days Bay Opera’s Der Rosenkavalier. We’ve noticed before that the notes about visiting artists often omit mention of earlier New Zealand appearances, as if the person putting the programmes together does no more than copy the agent’s hand-out, which can very well omit appearances, such as those in New Zealand, that are deemed unimportant in building an artist’s profile for international consumption. I suppose it could be a commentary on our own often ill-based inclination to boast that we punch above our weight in many things, such as the arts.

We at Middle C would be happy to be consulted by New Zealand concert and opera promoters to help flesh out inadequate biographies. Or anyone can search our archive without any sort of barrier to check such things – the archive goes back to our beginning in 2008.

Australian tenor Henry Choo emerged from the left of the choir In the Tavern, as it were, in ‘Girat, regirat garcifer’, a clear and penetrating voice that did show a little strain at the top but made a truly musical and dramatic impact. Dunedin-educated Emma Fraser is well-known: here she waits for her first outing till the ‘Amor volat undique’ in the Cour d’amours part, but the wait was fully rewarded, and she handled her last florid, operatic peroration in the ‘Tempus est iocundum’ with a keen feel for the message and musical style. In that part, Clayton and the children’s choir also join, as the minor key reasserts the power of the Wheel of Fortune – of Fate; that all worldly pleasures are passing fancies and futilities.

There was a shouting and standing ovation at the end, that went on and on. It’s hard to imagine a more magnificent climax to what must have been, in every way, one of the orchestra’s most successful years. Marc Taddei has again proved to be a marvellous gift to Wellington’s musical culture.

In speaking to the audience, Taddei spoke about next year’s plans which will follow the pattern in 2014 with a series of six symphonies to be played in six concerts. Tchaikovksy was the obvious candidate and the Russian theme will lead to a lot of other Russian music, mainly 19th century, that will be explored most rewardingly. In addition, Michael Houstoun will be piano soloist throughout, again in a series of mainly Russian piano concertos, including less familiar but splendid examples like Scriabin’s in F sharp minor.

Good to stay alive for another year!

 

Nota Bene splendidly celebrates its 10th Anniversary

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Nota Bene – 10th Anniversary Concert

Choral music by numerous composers (including a new commission from David Hamilton)

Nota Bene, directed by Christine Argyle
Items conducted by Peter de Blois and Julian Raphael
Emma Sayers (piano), Penny Miles (bassoon)
Geoff Robinson, compere

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

Sunday, 14 September 2014, 4.30pm

I was sorry that Nota Bene chamber choir chose to sing on a Sunday – Chamber Music New Zealand had that day also joined the Sunday afternoon gang (in the latter’s case, 5pm), so I could not attend both concerts.  Next Sunday (21 September) there are no fewer than five classical music concerts in and around Wellington; Middle C cannot review them all, and to the extent that the audiences will inevitably overlap to some extent, the individual audiences will be smaller than they might otherwise have been.

However, all praise to Nota Bene and Christine Argyle for a wonderfully diverse concert, made somewhat sad by the fact that the latter is giving up her music directorship.  How she has managed to undertake all the activities she enumerated in an interview with Eva Radich on Wednesday, on Upbeat! (RNZ Concert), I do not know.  She is obviously good at both preparation and organisation.

The concert was made up of items from various concerts performed by the choir over the period of its existence.  Some original members are still with the choir, and some of the songs were performed at the first concert.  Some singing in this concert were former members invited to return for the occasion.  After the performance the choir launched its first CD, made up of items from the concerts of the past that had been broadcast by Radio New Zealand Concert, some of the  items being those that were performed on Sunday.

It all amply demonstrated the eclecticism of the choir, its variety of skills and its ability to be flexible and responsive to very different periods, styles and genres.  An innovation was a screen showing colour photos of the choir at the time of each concert from which an excerpt was performed.  Compère Geoff Robinson (former presenter on Radio New Zealand National) told us some of the choir’s history, and related information regarding the works and their performances, along with a few anecdotes, prior to each couple of items.  A tendency to drop his voice at the ends of phrases meant that I did not hear everything he said.  There was a good attendance, the body of the church being nearly full, with a handful of people sitting in the gallery.

Christine Argyle, using a tuning fork, gave the notes for each part prior to each item (most were unaccompanied); a striking feature was that the choir began, and continued, bang in tune every time.

Many of the items were in English, nevertheless all words were printed in the programme, in English, regardless of original language.  The huge diversity of songs ranged from the straight-forward to complex, multi-part items.  Some, like the opening two Flower Songs by Benjamin Britten sounded simple, but as I know from experience, are not so.  Although the choir’s diction was very good, in multi-part items it is inevitable that not all the words will be heard.  Britten chose fine poetry to set, as did others of the composers, so it was good to be able to read it, as an enhancement to understand the musical settings.

Throughout, the choir had a lovely smooth, blended tone.  The acoustics of St. Andrew’s enhanced the sound more than is the case with some venues in which I have heard Nota Bene.

After a change of mood for Purcell’s complex setting of  ‘Hear my Prayer, O Lord’ sung with almost perfect expression and phrasing and Holst’s ‘Ave Maria’ (in Latin, gorgeously rendered), we returned to English poetry for John Rutter’s setting of Shakespeare’s well known ‘It was  lover and his lass’from As You Like It.  Like most of Rutter’s music, it was a joyful piece, this time in a popular swing style, and given a very fine performance.

A couple of traditional songs followed, one French (Provençal) and one in English.  Geoff Richards’s arrangement of ‘Le Baylère’ (alias ‘Bailèro’) incorporated sumptuous harmony and suspensions.  Whether it was sung in French (as implied by the title) or Provençal I could not tell, but it received a wonderful performance.  ‘Brigg Fair’ arranged by Percy Grainger is well-known.  It featured young tenor soloist Griffin Madill Nichol, a member of the choir.  His voice was right for a folk song, and he did his part well, backed by the humming choir.  Crescendi and decrescendi were beautifully managed.

Now to a less well-known piece: ‘Les Sirènes’ by the talented but all too short-lived French composer Lili Boulanger (1893–1918).  The choral piece was sung by the women (in French) in two physically separate choirs, and contained a solo for splendid mezzo Natalie Williams; it was accompanied by pianist Emma Sayers.  The piano part conveyed the movement of water, with shimmering arpeggios and broken chords.

Ben Oakland’s ‘Java Jive’ brought a complete change of mood, and was sung from memory by a small group, with solos (and repeated at the end of the concert as an encore by the entire choir); it was brilliantly done, its clashes of harmony confidently and resolutely prominent.

Last before the interval was a traditional South African piece, led by Julian Raphael, that buoyant choral supremo, who played a maraca while the choir, singing from memory, incorporated movement in its loud and energetic performance.  The singers managed to sound really like Africans.

After the break, another guest conductor who has directed the choir’s concerts in the past, Peter de Blois, conducted the Kyrie from New Zealander Sam Piper’s Requiem and ‘Song for Athene’ by John Tavener.  The former was a lively piece with good melody lines from the altos in the Kyrie section; focus of the melody changed for the Christe section.  Tavener’s work introduced very fine pianissimo singing – long-breathed lines with a hummed background.  It was a very accomplished performance.  The words were elevated indeed – but not all were printed.

In calm and meditative mood was the ‘Ave Maris Stella’ of Edvard Grieg (sung in Latin).  Only here was I aware of a mid-verse entry where the voices were not together – most unusual. This, and the remaining items, were conducted by Christine Argyle.

Ivan Hrušovský (1927–2001) was a Slovak composer. His ‘Rytmus’, a Latin piece, was very fast, the choir having to spit out the words, but in accordance with the title, there were many emphases and accents.

Now came two New Zealand works: firstly, ‘Ursula at Parakakariki’ (which is on Banks Peninsula) by Carol Shortis.  It began with sea sounds on a special kind of percussion shaker played by one of the choir, and was accompanied by Emma Sayers, interspersed with passages for bassoon.  Both the music and the Fiona Farrell poem were quite delightful, yet complex, with seemingly independent choral lines parting and converging.  Although it was announced along with the next item, spontaneous applause burst out.  The composer was present, and acknowledged the applause.

Present, too, was David Hamilton, to hear the performance of the piece commissioned by the choir for this occasion: ‘Canción de Invierno’ (Songs of Winter), his setting of a text by Juan Ramón Jiménez, was about birds singing from somewhere, despite leafless trees.  It began with syllables only being sounded, then Natalie Williams sang a solo while the choir continued the syllables.  All joined in later to sing about singing.  Superb dynamics built up to an astonishing double forte.  In the final section there were solo voices above a general hubbub.  This was a thrilling performance of an exciting work, despite a little lack of unanimity in the final section for solos.  Someone remarked to me after the concert that other choirs will want to get their hands on this music.

Something completely different was Mendelssohn’s enchanting chorus from Elijah: ‘He, watching over Israel’.  Its wondrous harmonies, modulations and unexpected melodic twists were beautifully realised; in fact, with the wonderful dynamics and expression, I would call this a moving and almost perfect performance.

Finally, two contemporary composers’ works: ‘Lux Aurumque’ by American Eric Whitacre, and ‘The Shepherd’s Carol’ by Briton Bob Chilcott.  The former was a very imaginative piece of choral writing, but quite tricky, with close intervals, while the latter was very melodic, but again with challenging harmony.

This has been a great ten years!  Congratulations to the amateur choir that has it all. It is hard to pick up highlights from such a varied concert with a choir that is a triumph of skill and excellent singing.  May Nota Bene go from strength to strength under a new music director, and full praise to Christine Argyle who has led it, even choosing the programmes when she was not conducting, with flair, imagination and skill.

Fine Israel in Egypt from Tudor Consort in challenging acoustic

Posted on by admin

Handel’s Israel in Egypt

The Tudor Consort with The Chiesa Ensemble (comprising 25 members of the NZSO, with Douglas Mews  harpsichord), directed by Michael Stewart

Wellington Cathedral of St Paul

Saturday 6 September 2014

Israel in Egypt sets out to recount the Old Testament story of Israel’s final period in Egypt under a Pharaoh that withdrew all previous privileges and inflicted on the Israelites a physical bondage of the harshest kind. Handel set an entirely biblical libretto which dramatically depicts the Ten Plagues that Israel’s God visited on the Egyptians, the captives’ escape towards the Red Sea, the Egyptian pursuit with murderous intent, and the parting of the waters to provide safe passage for the Israelites. Unlike many other oratorios of the period, the chorus is here the central protagonist , with recitatives and arias sung by choristers, rather than by separate vocal soloists.

The opening orchestral prelude was beautifully balanced and sympathetic as were the first recitative and chorus, all of which set the brooding  background of Israel’s grief  and despair at their hopeless situation under the new Pharaoh. Michael Stewart judged the reverberant acoustic of St. Paul’s perfectly and used broad tempi that allowed the fugal entries and lines of both orchestra and chorus to be cleanly heard, and the story clearly heard.

As the narrative unfolds,  Handel uses the libretto to paint a succession of dramatic contrasts, offsetting the sombre elements of the tale against the more violent visitations  of  the plagues. Chorus and orchestra gave a wonderfully vigorous depiction of episodes such as the clouds of locusts, hailstorms mingled with fire, Jehovah’s ruthless elimination of  the Egyptian firstborn and the final fate of Israel’s pursuers as the waters of the Red Sea engulfed them.

Interspersed were evocative contrasts like the “thick darkness over the land, even darkness which might be felt”, and the lighthearted pastoral pipes and shepherds’ voices of  slaves released. Handel’s masterful orchestration and choral writing was given its fullest value by both singers and orchestra, with the impeccable technical and musical skill that one has come to expect from the Tudor Consort and NZSO players.

Yet I felt a deep sense of frustration with the performance because much of that talent and musicianship was, in the final analysis, defeated by the reverberant acoustic of St. Paul’s Cathedral.  The broad tempo sections worked well, but the high speed intricacies and fugal lines of the fast tempi became an overwhelming blur of sound, where there was no chance of verbal clarity. For me, the magic
of Handel’s oratorios is his stunning realization of the story – where he lifts an already absorbing literary drama onto quite another plane with his astonishing musical paintbrush. The music is created specifically to tell the story, and if that story cannot be heard, the point of the work is lost.

It saddened me that the obvious talent and commitment of the musicians could not be properly appreciated in the enormous space. Given the size of the audience, I suspect they might have fitted into Old St. Paul’s, where I think there would have been a greater chance of acoustic success.

Unfortunately I was not able to stay for Part Two of the work, but the format is very similar to Part One, and I doubt my impressions would have been very different.

 

Brilliant, rewarding performance of The Creation from NZSO and Orpheus Choir

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The Creation (Sung in English) by Haydn

New Zealand Symphony Orchestra and the Orpheus Choir of Wellington, conducted by Nicholas McGegan, with Madeleine Pierard – soprano, Robin Tritschler – tenor, Jonathan Lemalu – bass

Michael Fowler Centre, Wellington

Friday 29 August 2014

This concert was billed as one where “Haydn brings forth magnificence from silence as he retells the creation of the world, taking inspiration from the Bible’s Book of Genesis and Milton’s Paradise Lost. Haydn once confessed, ‘I want to write a work that will give permanent fame to my name in the world’. With The Creation, he has certainly achieved this.”

This was the work that provided the striking platform on which this performance was built, guided by renowned Baroque and Enlightenment interpreter Nicholas McGegan, with contributions from outstanding soloists and the exceptional talents of the NZ Symphony Orchestra. There was a most informative pre-concert talk from Peter Walls which presaged an evening of rich musical rewards.

The Creation was met with great enthusiasm when first heard in both Britain and Germany (Haydn set the libretto in both languages). Over time it lost some ground in the fickle swings of the performance fashion stakes, but more recently it has enjoyed wide popularity again. Astonishingly this concert was announced as the first ever full performance of the work by the NZSO.

The opening introduction is an orchestral Representation of Chaos on the First Day of creation, and its elusive, shifting tonalities and stark dynamic contrasts were explored to wonderful dramatic effect by the orchestra, followed by Lemalu’s evocative vocal painting of the formless universe in the first, almost whispered, words of the archangel Raphael. The blinding arrival of Light from the heavens and the panic stricken flight of hell’s black spirits was wonderfully portrayed by both Robin Tritschler as the archangel Uriel and the large force of choristers, who hurled themselves into their first dramatic number to stunning effect.

The Second Day of creation was laid out in recitative by Lemalu as he painted a musical canvas of amazing breadth, ranging from the frightful rolling of “awful thunders” to the most “light and flaky snow” which one could almost sense alighting on one’s hair. Then came the first entry of soprano Madeleine Pierard with Gabriel’s spectacular celebratory aria, supported by the massed angelic chorus. Her clarity of notes and diction at speed, and beautifully shaped phrases, were quite breath-taking and set a technical and musical standard that she maintained unwaveringly for the rest of the performance.

There were many other special moments in the first four days of creation which comprise Part One of the work, spanning the formation of the cosmos and planet Earth. Not only the soloists and chorus but the orchestra too exuded a joy in the privilege of performing this masterpiece – the players obviously relished the wonderful pictorial opportunities in Haydn’s score, and not only the more obvious ones assigned to the upper woodwind. The contrabass line depicting rivers flowing across the open plains “in serpent error” was deliciously rich and sinuous, and the section made the most of this rare melodic treat, as they painted the scene in tandem with Lemalu’s evocative description.

Part Two of the oratorio spans the creation of the animal kingdom, including humans Adam and Eve.  The emergence of sea life, land forms and the creatures of the air gave Haydn great opportunities for pictorial and onomatopoeic writing, which he lavished not only on the soloists and choir, but almost more so on the instrumentalists. His amazing variety of creative melody and evocative sound effects were swooped on with glee by the players who had a real night out on the musical and technical opportunities they were offered.

The solo obbligato conversations with the soloists were a delight, and the percussion and brass had a field day in the rousing choruses. The choir was very impressive in their clean fugal lines and exemplary diction even at a galloping allegro, and their sheer power in the forte tuttis was extraordinary.

There were some moments in the work where, from our seats in the gallery, the male solo voices singing at a piano dynamic did not clearly penetrate the very considerable orchestral forces. And I similarly craved more bass weight in the vocal trios. But Madeleine Pierard, with the advantage of the upper register, consistently floated through or over the orchestra apparently quite effortlessly, never losing the satiny timbre of her voice at even the topmost pitches.

Part Three of the work is a pastoral idyll depicting Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden before the first apple is plucked and they are catapulted into “The Fall”. Their sights are initially focused on praising the glories of Creation, supported by full hearted contributions from the choir. Lemalu and Pierard made the most of every musical opportunity offered by the poetic libretto and evocative melodies that here span everything from the “rosy mantle” of “the morning young and fair”, the brilliance of the sun and moon, the “dusky mists and dewy streams”, “purling fountains” and all the “living souls” that people the new planet.

Then the “happy pair” turn to one another to express their mutual bliss. The writing builds to nothing short of a love duet, albeit within an oratorio, and it was masterfully choreographed by the duo. They opened with almost shy, hesitant overtures , but as each caught an answering light in the other’s eye, they became ever more daring in their protestations. At the end they teetered on a knife edge between ravished fulfilment and sentimentality, but they judged it to absolute perfection in both body language and voice, giving a finale that brought the house down.

It was a real privilege to be at this performance, and so pleasing to see that two of the three excellent soloists were New Zealanders – an all too rare occurrence in my view. The orchestra and chorus were brilliant, and under Nicholas McGegan’s inspiring and creative guidance the audience was treated to a most rewarding evening of music making.