Tag: students

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

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

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

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

St Mark’s Church, Lower Hutt

Wednesday 16 October, 12:15 pm

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

All the guitar students from NZSM prove more is more

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

New Zealand School of Music Classical Guitar Concert

Music by Jorge Cardoso, Maximo Pujol, Stephen Goss, Peter Warlock, Antonio Ruis-Pipó and Vivaldi

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday 9 October, 12:15 pm

Three weeks ago I heard some of these student guitarists at Old St Paul’s (17 September). This time all twelve students in the classical guitar department of the school contributed to a mainly different programme that was, if anything, even more interesting and more accomplished.

The Suite of Latin American pieces by Cardoso that had me a bit confused last time was the last work in the earlier programme; here it was first. Perhaps because of that, the trio (Jamie Garrick, Christian Huenuqueo and George Wills) sounded more practised than before. Nevertheless, Samba d’Ouro (Ouro is evidently Portuguese for Gold, as well as being a place name in the southern Brazilian state of Santa Caterina) might have been lifted by a little more rhythmic sensuality.  Camino de Chacarera (which is a folk dance typical of north-western Argentina), was sensitive and nicely articulated. From the next piece, Zamba de Plata, much longer than the first two, there was more movement, along with charm and delicacy in its syncopated rhythms.

And the last two pieces, both evidently from across the Andes, built on the players’ growing confidence: Polca Peruano, elusive but quite melodious, and Vals Peruano, in a triple time slightly disguised by cross rhythms which made it teasing and delightful.

Fin de Siglo (‘End of the century’) by Maximo Pujol, from Buenos Aires, seemed less concerned with visceral pleasures and more with drawing attention to interesting textures and moderately complex shapes: the first part, Andante Tranquillo, and the second, Allegro, a post-Piazzolla, tangoish rhythm. In the middle of the Allegro there’s a nice contrasting, melancholy section which the players captured with grace and feeling.

The same selection as in the last concert from Satie’s Gymnopédies and Gnossiennes, arranged by American guitarist Stephen Goss repaid a second hearing. These were for guitar quartet (Jake Church,, Cormac Harrington, Emmett Sweet and Cameron Sloan). While the two Gymnopédies are the more familiar, the Gnossiennes, forming an entity so successfully, lent themselves to more interesting colourings and a hint of mystery. The main impression of the playing was care, thoughtfulness and writing that was beautifully adapted to the guitars.

Peter Warlock’s Capriol Suite might have seemed an unlikely case for guitar adaptation, but then it’s based on Renaissance musical ideas which were naturally disposed to the lute and the quartet handled their dance rhythms firmly and gracefully.

The last two pieces involved the full guitar orchestra, twelve in all, with Owen Moriarty conducting. Ensemble was admirable and the variety of sounds and dynamics made these thoroughly entertaining, even if the price was some lack of spontaneous rhythmic lift. The first was Américas by Antonio Ruis-Pipó, actually written for eight guitars, with contributions in the form of clapping and finger-clicking, all generating a convincing orchestral feel.

The last work was an arrangement of Vivaldi’s Concerto Grosso, Op 3 No 8, the set entitled ‘L’estro harmonico’. Here the concertino, for two guitars, was shared by two players taking each of the two parts: Christian Huenuqueo and Cameron Sloan in the first, and George Wills and Nick Price in the second part. Vivaldi survives almost any sort of arrangement and here the disposition of the parts through the several groups created a really full orchestral sound, with varied dynamics and changes of plucking techniques between each section. Maybe they didn’t take the word ‘spiritoso’ in the second movement quite seriously enough, but there was little to carp about in the entire, most delightful performance.

 

NZSM Orchestra serves composers well, with a star cello soloist

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Te Kōki New Zealand School of Music : Contrasts

Jason Post: Noumena (world première)
Elgar: Cello Concerto in E minor, Op.85 (adagio – moderato; lento – allegro molto; adagio; allegro ma non troppo)
Shostakovich: Symphony no.9 in E flat, Op.70 (allegro, moderato, scherzo: presto, largo, allegretto)

NZSM Orchestra conducted by Kenneth Young, with Heather Lewis (cello)

Sacred Heart Cathedral

Tuesday, 8 October 2013, 7.30pm

A demanding programme proved to be well within the capabilities of the NZSM orchestra, which included only a few ‘guest players’ (though all four horn players were guests).

The work by graduate student (studying for Master’s) Jason Post was titled ‘Noumena’, meaning ‘an object beyond our phenomenal experience of it’ according to the programme note by the composer.  It opened with a quiet flute that gradually became louder, and was joined by harp, bassoon and percussion.  Then the other strings arrived, with some playing ponticello (very close to the bridge), while the double basses played very low.  They were quickly followed by overblown flutes, all the while the music becoming louder Some brass joined in, while the percussionist played glockenspiel and then xylophone, the glockenspiel returning again later.  The various orchestral sounds, many of them unusual, made for music that was effective in its own way, but it would be difficult to see the piece receiving multiple performances.

Despite the technical and ideological aspects of the work, it reminded me most of a howling southerly storm, such as we experienced on 20 June this year, and then again, to a lesser extent, as I typed up this review the morning after the concert.  There was a build-up of sound, intensity and texture, then an unleashing, with many wind-like ululations.  The tempo was pretty regular, and the playing intense and on-the-ball.

Elgar was well served by the performance of his cello concerto.  This soulful, even romantic work is different from most of his other compositions.  Heather Lewis, in a gorgeous green dress, made a very strong and incisive opening, playing without the score, and immediately gave us a wonderful range of tone and dynamics.  Right from the outset, the orchestral cellos were very fine, too.

While the sound in Sacred Heart Cathedral is very good, there were times in all three works when the fortissimos were somewhat overwhelming, due to the acoustics, and the size of the building being much smaller than a concert hall.

Nevertheless, both orchestra and soloist made the most of the sublime melodies with their poignant resonances.  I could not see the soloist properly – but there was no doubt about the sumptuous, lyrical and passionate sounds she produced.  The orchestra did its part splendidly, but the focus was definitely on the soloist.  She had the work thoroughly at her fingertips, with all its technical, interpretative and  expressive demands, but made it her own.  The emphasis for both soloist and orchestra was on interpretation.

The lento opening of the second movement had both soloist and orchestra performing wonderful singing lines, filled with romantic longing.  These long lines and their phrasing were beautifully managed by Heather Lewis, and there were delicious pianissimos.  The allegro molto section provided a greater variety of temperaments.

The adagio continued in a similar mood to the lento, except perhaps for a greater degree of sadness, with the soloist virtually continuously involved, while the final movement also had a mixture of emotions, right up to its almost abrupt ending.

Shostakovich’s ninth symphony is possible his shortest and his most jolly – and the first for which I owned a recording.  It starts with plenty of gusto, and a delightful piccolo playing above syncopated pizzicato on the strings, with many interjections from brass and percussion, giving almost a fairground atmosphere.  The lively, quirky theme is thrown around the instruments as well as being played by the
full band.

The second movement starts in complete contrast; it is quiet, slower, and features a lovely clarinet solo, with woodwind chorus to back it up.  The strings enter, with a slow build-up of a surging theme that has a mocking character.  It is overcome for a time by gorgeous flute solos.  This movement was beautifully played.

The third movement went back to a quirky, lively mood.  It was exciting, with a plethora of notes, timbres and rhythmic figures.  Early on, the trumpet and trombones featured in fine form.  They returned later in stentorian style, to signal the largo, which featured a superb extended bassoon solo.  The player had great tone and phrasing; it was a delightful but somewhat sombre interlude between scherzo and finale.

The allegretto starts quietly, but the excitement builds to a climax, relieved by much drumming and rhythmic playing from the wind instruments.  Changes of key added piquancy to the repetition of the theme.  When the full orchestra play it forte there is a definite air of mockery about the rendition.  Many sectional variations ensue, before a quite sudden ending.

This demanding programme deserved a bigger audience.  However, the church was close to being packed.  Perhaps some potential audience members do not realise that the New Zealand School of Music is a university-level institution, and that many of the players are post-graduate music students.  The level of competence is extremely high.

The entire programme received spirited, committed and accomplished performances.
Kenneth Young brought out the best from the players.  His programme notes for the Elgar were elegant: I enjoyed his saying about the first movement “The violas then introduce an elegiac theme, long and flowing, which the cello cannot resist.”  I would need to hear Jason Posts’ piece several times to be able to relate the programme notes to the music, while those for the Shostakovich by Mark Wigglesworth (written in 2007) were very informative about the composer and the history of the work’s performance, but said little about the work itself.

 

 

NZSM voice students in diverse show-case at St Andrews

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Arias from opera; songs

New Zealand School of Music: Vocal students of Richard Greager, Jenny Wollerman, Margaret Medlyn, with Mark Dorrell (piano)

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

2 October 2013, 12.15pm

A varied programme was provided, both in terms of the styles of voices, and of the composers whose music was sung.

The programme opened with a couple of duets (and one solo in between).  Tess Robinson and William McElwee sang a Handel duet from L’Allegro,  Il Penseroso ed Il Moderato, the first part of which I missed due to problems at the parking building.  The latter part seemed to suffer from some intonation wobbles, and not a lot of subtlety in dynamics, though otherwise it was a sound performance.

Mozart’s aria from Don Giovanni, ‘Batti, batti o bel Masetto’ was given a lively, apt and accurate interpretation by Olivia Sheat.  With the help of incomparable accompanist Mark Dorrell, the performance flowed beautifully.

Haydn was the composer of the next duet: ‘Graceful Consort’ from The Creation.  Hannah Jones’s attractive, agile and accurate soprano voice coped well, but Rory Sweeney’s voice was not sufficiently supported, the words were not very clear, and the tone was sometimes hard.

Donizetti was the composer of Hannah Jones’s solo: ‘Il barcaiolo’ from Nuits d’été à Pausilippe.  This song about the sea was sung with lovely unforced tone.

Bellini’s opera I Puritani is opened by an aria for Riccardo, the leader of the Puritan army: ‘Ah, per sempre’.  This was sung by Rory Sweeney, who this time had better tonal quality and clearer words.  The aria was well managed with a good range of dynamics – but surely a little facial expression is permitted,
and a little more sadness, as Riccardo hears his beloved being wed to another?

The next tenor was William McElwee, performing ‘Lunga da lei… De’ miei bollenti spiriti’ from Verdi’s La Traviata.  He has a bigger voice than does Sweeney, and it is more operatic in timbre.  He included plenty of facial expression and gesture in his performance.  He has a fine sense of the dramatic, and is a
very promising performer.

After such a number of operatic excerpts, it was refreshing to hear lieder: Wolf’s ‘Heiss mich nicht reden’, one of Goethe’s Mignon songs.  Olivia Sheat gave a beautifully controlled rendition with excellent words and dynamics, and employing subtle shades of tone, to make a moving presentation.

Mark Dorrell got a rest now; Esther Leefe (soprano) and Michelle Velvin (harp) performed A Birthday Hansel; a song cycle for high voice and harp set by Benjamin Britten to words by Robert Burns, some of which were amusing, the poems being in mixed English and Scottish dialects.  Although premiered by Peter Pears, it worked well for soprano.  Esther Leefe’s voice was beautifully produced, and the four songs were delightful and unusual, the presentation, charming.  Both musicians gave first-class performances.  I couldn’t catch a lot of the words – the harp was between me and the singer.  It was skilled playing and singing, sustained throughout ‘Birthday Song’, Wee Willie’, ‘My Hoggie’ and ‘Leezie
Lindsay’.

Staying with twentieth-century song, was Tess Robinson singing ‘The Seal Man’ by Rebecca Clarke.  I’m not aware of having heard this singer before, but I was struck by her strong, expressive voice.  Words were exceptionally well projected and clear.  She painted the picture of the seal man searching for a lover on land superbly well, as did Mark Dorrell in the accompaniment.

The only New Zealand composition on the programme was Anthony Ritchie’s ‘He moemoea’ (‘A dream’, recently sung at the Adam Concert Room by Isabella Moore).  Hannah Jones sang it with lovely resonance, and her words came over pretty well.

Tess Robinson returned to sing two Japanese songs – something I don’t recall ever hearing before.  By Yoshinao Nakada, they were ‘Ubagufuma’ and ‘Karasu’ from Muttsu no kodomo no uta.  She used the score (as did the duettists, earlier) – probably as much for the unfamiliar language as for the music.  Her singing was very eloquent, and her voice conveyed feelings well.

We moved into lighter vein now, with Rory Sweeney singing ‘If I loved you’ from Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Carousel.  It was a fine rendition, but there was insufficient feeling in the performance.

The final item was from William McElwee, singing ‘La fleur que tu m’avais jetée’, probably one of the most familiar of all tenor arias, from Bizet’s opera Carmen.  The tempo was a little too fast and unvarying – it could have done with some rubato. McElwee’s high notes were very fine, and his French language excellent.

Some of the programme notes, which were brief but informative, suffered from poor proof-reading in regard to grammar, others had tell-tale signs of being derived from the internet.

All the performances (aside from the songs with harp) were enhanced by having Mark Dorrell as the sensitive and capable accompanist.

 

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

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Artist Diploma Recital

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

Blythe Press (violin) with Emma Sayers (piano)

Hunter Council Chamber, Victoria University

Sunday 22 September, 12.30pm

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Impressive final recital as Isabella Moore prepares for study abroad

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

‘Vivere per Amare’ (Live to Love) – final recital for Postgrad. Diploma in Voice
Arias, Lieder and Songs

Isabella Moore (soprano), Bruce Greenfield (piano)

Adam Concert Room, New Zealand School of Music

Friday 20 September 2013, 6.15pm

A massive thunderstorm, such as we seldom get in Wellington, prevented me from arriving at the recital in time; hail and heavy rain meant I had to stop en route because I simply could not see the surface of the road.  However, it was well worthwhile persisting with the journey.  Isabella Moore has an impressive voice of wide range, an imposing platform persona, and is accomplished across a variety of composers, genres and periods.  She certainly showed us what she can do.

My colleague Lindis Taylor was also at the recital, and has given me some comments on the items I missed: “‘Porgi amor’ had quite careful scene setting before Isabella entered, with Greenfield’s piano introduction.  She entered slowly from the rear, letting her face reveal her emotions as the introductory music continued.  Her voice is not the typical creamy, Kiri-like soprano but quite hard and bright, yet it was fully expressive of her sadness.

“She sang the Ritchie songs with considerable tonal variety, giving each a distinct character.”

The first song I heard properly (as opposed to through the door from the foyer) was Richard Strauss’s Freundliche Vision, Op.48 no.1, the second Strauss lied. What first struck me was the power of Moore’s voice, her clear German language (and this was true also of French, Italian, English and Russian) and her good voice production.  Her climaxes were exciting and her soft passages tender.
Here is another excellent Samoan Strauss singer, like Aivale Cole.

It is perhaps a moot point whether the singer should modify her volume to the size of the room in which she is performing, or whether, for the benefit of those grading her diploma recital, she should show what she is capable of in terms of power and volume.  Certainly I found some of the singing too loud for the acoustic, but it was a case of power, not forcing or shouting.  I believe I have noted in a previous review that Isabella Moore uses her resonators so well; tone production is beautiful, and resonant, without a huge effort (apparently), and without a wide open mouth.  Her low notes are full of emotion, often well into the mezzo-soprano range, and her high notes are controlled.

Wagner followed: two of the Wesendonck lieder: ‘Der Engel’ and ‘Schmerzen’.  It was impressive to consider the variety of songs performed in the concert, and the sheer amount of work required to memorise them and master their performance.
Moore coped well with this demanding repertoire, though it would be pushing her voice to perform Wagner in an opera house at this stage of her career.  Both consonants and vowels were beautifully made and the powerful declamations were all in place.

After the first of two short intervals, we heard an aria by Jules Massenet: ‘Pleurez, pleurez mes yeux’ from Le Cid.  Here, as elsewhere, Bruce Greenfield’s tasteful and highly musical accompaniment was a joy.  Moore’s communication of the emotion of the piece with the audience was splendid, partly through her excellent enunciation, and her observation of the contrasts in the words.

Liszt’s song ‘Oh, quand je dors’ was convincingly performed.  I’ve always been told that singers should not exhibit teeth; that the teeth inhibit the production of tone and its full expression. However, while we saw quite a lot of incisors etc. in this song
particularly, I did not notice any effect on the quality of the sound.  The song could have sustained even more feeling and emotion.

Berlioz wrote wonderfully romantic works, and was rather ahead of his time in his invention, orchestration and word-setting. Near the top of the list is Les nuits d’été (Summer nights), and from this song cycle (usually with orchestra) Isabella Moore sang ‘Le spectre de la rose’, a setting of a poem by Gautier.  There was no strain in the voice, even on a high crescendo – but this fine song will grow more magnificent as the singer matures.

The Rachmaninov songs featured hugely expressive and demanding accompaniments, as befitted their composer, a top international pianist.  The first song, ‘Oh, never sing to me again’ was a setting of words by Pushkin.  This is a very dramatic song, and hearing it in Russian added to the effect.  The others were ‘Before my window, Lilacs‘, and In Spring Waters.  In these, found the sustained high volume too much. Yet Moore proved again that she can do delicacy too, notably in the second song.

To opera next, and Bellini’s ‘Casta diva’ from Norma.  As elsewhere, Bruce Greenfield was a one-man orchestra.  It was a very lovely rendering, but I’m not sure that bel canto is Moore’s ‘thing’. However, Lindis Taylor said “I was pretty impressed by her Norma performance which was clearly intended to be the show-piece and it was. The way she dramatically shifted gear for the cabaletta, from the pure sacred utterance, and then the prayer specifically asking for the return of her lover. And her ensuring that we understood the meaning of the words as distinct from aiming simply to astonish us with her vocal histrionics; they were certainly impressive.  The whole thing certainly made a dramatic impact.”  There were a few inaccuracies, but apart from that, Moore demonstrated the flexibility of her voice.

In the lighthearted final item, Flanders and Swann’s ‘A word in my ear’ Greenfield was the miming fellow-comedian.  This item included a ‘Farewell’, then just as the audience (and the adjudicating lecturers!) thought it was over, we were stopped, and the song became ‘I’m tone deaf’, a hilarious travesty of a singer – but hard to manage to sing out of tune, after all that training and practice!

A pity after putting so much work into a sizeable printed programme, to have it marred by mistakes, words missed out, and howlers, such as Strauss ‘paved the way for his predecessors’, and the muddling of Salzburg and Vienna, and their respective roles in Mozart’s career. A glance at an atlas could have cleared this up, and passing the notes to someone else to read through would, hopefully, have got rid of the mistakes.  Apparently people recall the opera by Massenet by the one aria, yet in the next line “it seems to have been forgotten”!

Worse than these was perhaps the use of the translations. I looked up the relevant website that was the source of most of them, out of curiosity (using the names of the translators to get to it).  It stated, over the name of Bard Suverkrop “Copying of the text (cut and paste) not permitted” and that the web address and name of the author should be given when public use was made of the translations.  We had the names, but… was copyright permission obtained?  If it was, this should be shown.  If not, the law has been broken.

 

Engaging guitar performances from mainly junior NZSM students

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

New Zealand School of Music Classical Guitar Concert

Music by Stephen Goss, Fernando Sor, Astor Piazzolla, Sylvius Leopold Weissm Carlo Domeniconi,  Julián Arcas, Jorge Cardoso

Old Saint Paul’s

Tuesday 17 September, 12:15 pm

This concert was one of a series presented in collaboration with the New Zealand School of Music, to give students opportunities to perform before an audience other than fellow students and teachers. All but one of the players were first or second year students. What impressed here was not, perhaps, impeccable playing or mature insight into the music, but an ability to find their way through music that was often complex and sophisticated. The music was introduced by Jane Curry, lecturer and head of classical guitar studies at the school.

The concert opened with a quartet consisting of Jake Church, Cormac Harrington, Emmett Sweet and Cameron Sloan playing three pieces from a five-movement ‘re-working’ of familiar pieces by Erik Satie, from the Gymnopédies and Gnossiennes. The latter word may derive from an early Greek religious belief, gnosticism, while it has also been linked with the myth based in the ancient Cretan city of Knossos, of King Minor, the story of the Minotaur involving Ariadne and Theseus. Satie’s intended meaning or connotation remins obscure.

The same applies to ‘Gymnopédies’, which hints at gymnastics, or dance (gymnos means ‘nude’ in Greek, since in Sparta, at least, gymnastics were performed naked; while paedia, or ‘pedia’, means boys). So both words have a classical association with movement or dance, and have in common the rejection of late 19th century salon music; they are, in Wikipedia‘s words, “gentle yet somewhat eccentric pieces which, when composed, defied the classical tradition”.

These arrangements were certainly taxing, not only in the finding and maintaining of good ensemble, but also in expressing a gentle melancholy through enigmatic dissonances and unusual harmony.  In their original versions, or in Debussy’s orchestration of the Gymnopédies, they have become extremely popular.

These re-workings proceed without breaks, offering the kind of contrast that Satie was, clearly, not seeking to make, as both groups of three have a striking unity of tone, harmony, tempo. The stronger tune of the Gymnopédie set betwen the two Gnossiennes changed the character of the pieces.

But the players did not quite achieve the fluidity and the disembodied feeling that is the character of the originals.

Sor’s Sonata, Op 22, a piece that probably owed someting of its shape to Scarlatti’s keyboard sonatas, was played by George Wills. I suppose because he only had his own instrument to attend to, he produced a more fluent line, in handling the tricky rhythms, than the quartet had in the Satie pieces; the perfectly understandable slips and a certain hesitancy, however, did not detract from his general grasp of the style.

The first of a couple of South American pieces was Verano Porteno by Piazzolla. First year student Dylan Solomon’s approach to the elusive tango rhythm was cautious, quiet and a bit tentative. Playing from memory as did all the solo players; after a couple of minutes he handled capably, a change of tempo and  mood.  The music returns to its quiet opening phase, brushing strings with the finger tips, slowly gaining momentum towards the end. A charmingly played piece.

Royden Smith, another first year, played a Passacaglia by the famous lutanist, and contemporary of J S Bach, Sylvius Leopold Weiss. He captured the music’s melancholy tone as well as exhibiting considerable feeling for its rhythm and for the baroque style which would have been derived from some understanding (I suppose) of the nature of lute performance.

Carlo Domeniconi is a contemporary Italian composer who has written much for the guitar. Jake Church played his Variations on an Anatolian Folksong. Its opening was a little insecure, for its texture and rhythm were complex, calling for a fluency that might hardly be expected in a second year student. There were five variations in which Church managed to exhibit changes of character, though in truth, they did not quite compensate a certain monotony that the unchanging tonality and dynamics induced. It sounded particularly hard, in the third variation, to bring melody and rhythm into a synthesis. And in the last variation, I had the not uncommon experience of feeling lost for a moment, and then found, in time for a nice ending.

Then came a Fanasy on Themes from La traviata by 19th century Spanish composer Julián Arcas. Cristian Huenuqueo tended to exaggerate he exprssive features to begin with and I did have misgivings about the likely success in adapting vocal  music of this kind for such a very different vehicle. Whether his playing slowly became more persuasive or my sensors were becoming acclimatised, the several tunes took on something of their character in the opera. It seemed a technically demanding piece and, allowing for occasional smudges, this 4th year student negotiated its changes, its lyrical character, verfy effectively.

The last piece was a suite of five pieces by Jorge Cardoso, a contemporary Argentinian guitarist and composer, and played by a trio of Jamie Garrick, Huenuqueo and Wills. They were derived from the folk styles of various South American countries, entitled as follows: Samba d’orou, Camino de chacarera, Polca paraguaya, Zamba de plata and Vals Peruano.

While Samba d’ouro was a gently syncopated piece in which the trio created a rather sweet atmosphere, Camino de chacarera which is a rural counterpart of the cosmopolitan Argentinian imagery of the tango, but was without the brittle sensuality of the tango proper. Ensemble here proved a little elusive.

Polca Paraguaya was a considerable challenge though the ensemble seemed to gather itself up as it progressed, with a treble line carrying well. Zamba de plata alternated between 6/8 and 3/4 rhythm, sounding a little like a waltz, with competing rhythms, that caused momentary slips; but a charming piece.  The audience clapped at this point, thinking, because the way the programme notes were set out, that it was the end.

Vals Peruano had me fooled as it didn’t sound much like a waltz; Jamie Garrick later clarified the order of the pieces for me, pointing out that this last piece ‘uses syncopated, dotted rhythms which really muddy the feel’. The rhythms were curious and ever-changing.

The music was not chosen for its simplicity or audience familiarity, yet the players, most of whom were at the early stages of their studies, coped well enough technically, but more importantly, found the appropriate idiomatic style, from both a period and geographical point of view.

 

Cellos galore at St. Andrew’s

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St. Andrew’s Lunchtime Concert Series:
Cellos of the NZ School of Music

St. Andrew’s on the Terrace, Wellington

Wednesday, 21st August 2013.

 

This was the debut performance of the NZSM Cello Ensemble, a group of eight women students directed by Inbal Megiddo, cello lecturer at the school. It offered a new sound to Wellington concert goers, and the opportunity to hear both familiar and new works arranged for this interesting combination.

The opening item was the Prelude from Bach’s solo cello Suite no.5, played by Lucy Gijsbers, principal of the Ensemble. The thoughtful and lyrical opening section led into the lively and demanding fugue where her technical mastery of the instrument was immediately apparent. Unfortunately, however, the brio of the delivery was such that the shape of the phrasing and the intricate fugal patterns tended to get obscured in the rush of hectic passagework. Lucy has no need to prove her obvious technical competence; however, that competence must always be the servant of the music, particularly a masterpiece of such stature as this. The musicianship displayed in the opening simply needed to be extended right through to the powerful ending of the Prelude.

Next was Corelli’s well known Christmas Concerto Op.6, no.8 in a surprisingly successful realization for cello ensemble by Claude Kenneson. It largely overcame the limitations of  an unrelieved cello palette – the stylistic contrasts between the alternating slow and fast movements were well highlighted, with warmth and sensitivity marking the wonderful melodies, suspensions and rhythmic syncopation that distinguish the lyrical sections. Inner voices spoke well through the rich texture and highlighted the players’ clear emotional engagement with the work.

The spirited delivery of the contrasting fast movements was invigorating in all but the last Allegro –  it was in fact played at an exaggerated vivace that muddied the exciting passagework whose clarity is quintessential to these early concerti. However this, and the occasional patch of rocky intonation, were really the only drawbacks in this felicitous reading.

For the Requiem Op.66 by David Popper, the cello ensemble was joined by Jian Liu, piano lecturer at NZ School of Music. Popper was a Bohemian virtuoso cellist and prolific composer for his instrument, and this 1891 work was originally scored for three cellos and orchestra.

However, it came across very successfully in this piano-plus-cello-octet version, which gave ample opportunity for the players to relish its luscious romantic lyricism and brooding reflections.

The tonal contrast and clarity of Liu’s contribution from the piano was exquisitely sensitive to the mood of the ensemble and the nuances of the writing. He facilitated a wonderful conversation where all the players clearly revelled in the aching suspensions and dynamic shifts that particularly marked the central section. The audience was rapt from first note to last.

The final work was Bach’s Air on a G String, in an arrangement for cello ensemble by Aldo Parisot. The famous lyrical melody that is the lynchpin of this piece was beautifully expressed by the upper voices, but the supporting lines from the bass voices were sadly, barely audible. Even the middle parts were underpowered, leaving a serious imbalance in the acoustic. This was most apparent in the timid pizzicato of the lowest cello lines which cried out for the rich resonance of  the contrabass that normally plays this part. The sensitive dynamic contrasts offered by the upper voices were so emasculated by the absence of bass support, that the beauty of Bach’s writing was badly let down. If this arrangement is to work at all, it needs a lot more thought given to the balance of the ensemble.

It was a pity to end the recital with this sense of incompleteness, because the concert offered Wellington listeners an enriching experience in the chamber music medium that they have not enjoyed before. Inbal Megiddo is to be congratulated on establishing and nurturing the group, and I very much hope we will hear more of it in the future.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

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

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Il Corsaro (Verdi)

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

Soloists, chorus and orchestra of the School of Music

The Opera House, Wellington

Friday 26 and Saturday 27 July 2013

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Il Corsaro a delight and a triumph

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Te Kōkī New Zealand School of Music presents:

Il Corsaro

An opera in three acts by Giuseppe Verdi, based on Lord Byron’s poem, The Corsaire.

Presented by students of the New Zealand School of Music:

Cast: Thomas Atkins (Corrado) / Isabella Moore (Gulnara)
Christian Thurston (Pasha Seid) / Elisabeth Harris (Medora)
James Henare  (Giovanni) / William McElwee (Pirate/Aga Selimo)
Declan Cudd (Pirate/Eunuch) / Jack Blomfield (Lord Byron)
Imogen Thirlwall (Caroline Lamb)
Voice Students of Te Kōkī  NZ School of Music

Conductor: Kenneth Young
Director: Sara Brodie
Assistant Director : Frances Moore
Orchestra of Te Kōkī  New Zealand School of Music

Opera House Wellington,

26th July 2013.

This New Zealand premiere marked the 200th anniversary of Verdi’s birth,  and was the first of four performances to be staged with two sets of vocal principals on alternate dates. This opening night presented Thomas Atkins as the swashbuckling pirate Corrado, Elisabeth Harris as his lady love Medora, Christian Thurston as the ruthless Pasha Seid, and Isabella Moore as the queen of his harem Gulnara.

Il Corsaro was completed in 1848, towards the end of Verdi’s early period of operatic writing, and follows Byron’s plot quite faithfully. This is a somewhat unlikely romantic tale, requiring a suspension of disbelief akin to the plots of Gilbert and Sullivan, and it is peopled by similar colourful larger-than-life characters.

The standout performers this night were undoubtedly Thomas Atkins and Isabella Moore, who portrayed their roles of piratical raider and romantic heroine most convincingly.  Each showed wonderfully assured vocal and dramatic skills, and they could comfortably project their voices out into the auditorium, never being overshadowed by the orchestra.

This was conducted by Kenneth Young, who drew from the instrumentalists an excellent performance of a varied and demanding score, conveyed with technical mastery and musical assurance.

The costumes were designed and executed with similar exuberance, as was the stage set. The male and female choruses did an excellent job, with the male group providing a particularly impressive opening scene to the work.

All these elements enhanced the strong impression that the student participants were enjoying themselves hugely – their enthusiasm carried the audience along in the colourful, dramatic sweep of the action, in a way that is so essential to a successful performance.

All the soloists showed sound vocal skills, but those of Corrado and Gulnara were exceptional and were greatly enhanced by their vocal confidence and acting abilities. There were very few wobbly nerves to be seen amongst the cast, revealed only occasionally by the odd loss of intonation.

This performance was definitely nudging its way confidently into the realms of a professional production. It was a great shame that the auditorium was not particularly full, since it was a most entertaining night out, and a most encouraging display of the youthful skills which the New Zealand School of Music is fostering.

 

Peter Mechen reviewed the following evening’s performance, featuring an alternative cast of principal singers:

Te Kōkī New Zealand School of Music presents:

Il Corsaro

An opera in three acts by Giuseppe Verdi, based on Lord Byron’s poem, The Corsaire.

Presented by students of the New Zealand School of Music:

Cast: Oliver Sewell (Corrado) / Christina Orgias(Gulnara)
Frederick Jones (Pasha Seid) /Daniela-Rosa Cepeda(Medora)
James Henare  (Giovanni) / William McElwee (Pirate/Aga Selimo)
Declan Cudd (Pirate/Eunuch) / Jack Blomfield (Lord Byron)
Imogen Thirwell (Caroline Lamb)

Voice Students of Te Kōkī  NZ School of Music

Conductor: Kenneth Young
Director: Sara Brodie
Assistant Director : Frances Moore
Orchestra of Te Kōkī  New Zealand School of Music

Opera House Wellington,
27th July 2013.

Giuseppe Verdi’s operas are reckoned to fall generally into three stages of development – rather like Beethoven’s music, in fact. The opera Il Corsaro, completed in 1848, comes towards the end of the composer’s “early” operatic body of work, but after better-known works such as Nabucco (1842), Ernani (1844) and (most surprisingly) Macbeth (1847). It ‘s such an enterprising choice of repertoire for this, the 200th composer-birth-anniversary – but given its actual lineage, why is Il Corsaro so little-known?

Verdi had read Lord Byron’s poem The Corsaire in 1844, subsequently contracting his librettist, Piave, to adapt Byron’s verses for the stage. The composer then got involved in a kind of squabble with one of his publishers, and the upshot was that he seemed to lose interest in Il Corsaro, despite at an earlier stage calling it “beautiful, passionate and apt for music”. Uncharacteristically, he publicly distanced himself from the opera’s first performances, a circumstance which has contributed to the work’s subsequent neglect. We’ve lost the composer’s on-going thoughts and attitudes towards the work’s early presentation history, as ought to have been expressed in various pieces of correspondence or performance-inspired alterations to the score.

A pity, because the work sits on the border of Verdi’s movement towards a “middle-period” style, with lyrical elements playing an increasing part in his strongly-energised dramatic expression, one that sweeps both along with irresistible force. Despite the story’s obvious gaucheries I soon found myself caught up in it all, thanks as much to the across-the-board commitment of the cast and production team as to the composer’s directly engaging way with character, situation, plot and denouement.

It was an inspired idea of director Sara Brodie’s to give us the poet, Byron, at the very beginning, his creative persona visibly interacting with the music of the prelude (incredibly whiplash playing from the student orchestra under Ken Young’s direction – marvellous!) By the time the Corsaire’s ship entered and the pirates disembarked it was possible to imagine that the poet had dreamed and imagined us as well, a transfixed, captive audience!

From then on, the swashbuckling and rollicking yarn really took hold – the opening chorus sequences, much of them unaccompanied, had both energy and clarity, making up with focused, well-varied emphases, what was slightly lacking in girth and punch. I thought both Tony de Goldi’s powerfully unfussy set designs (I loved the sky-curtain seemingly drawn open by the ship’s prow, at the beginning!), and Hannah Rodgers’ lighting choices beautifully enhanced this and all of the following scenarios. Daphne Eriksen’s costumes further enlivened the colorful action throughout every sequence, and sat nicely upon each character.

Oliver Sewell made a strong impression right from the start as Corrado, Il Corsaro himself, the fine ring to his voice suggesting the ability to lead and command. As Medora, Corrado’s lover, Daniela-Rosa Cepeda conveyed a lovely fragility, both visually and vocally, shaping her  melismatic irruptions nicely and actually making them mean something in emotional and dramatic import. The lovers’ farewell duet was built both tenderly and then excitingly towards the cannon-shot – a great moment, the poignancy of parting all the more dramatic as a result – convincingly done.

However “mad, bad and dangerous to know” Byron’s sometimes mistress Caroline Lamb thought him, her reaction to the poet’s verses was here portrayed as something bordering upon hysterical mirth – her timely removal over the poet’s shoulder allowed the opera to proceed! – however, her giggling was echoed by the women of Pasha Seid’s harem as they congregated, focusing their attentions upon Gulnara, the Pasha’s favorite odalisque.

Christina Orgias as Gulnara began extremely well, making an eloquent lament for her native land, demonstrating vocal command and fearlessly attacking her high note at the end of the aria. Frederick Jones as Pasha Seid produced true and accurate tones, and as the evening progressed, seemed to increasingly warm his voice to the task, relishing both his “hundred virgins” and his “vengeance” arias. I did think there could have been more tension and dynamism in his and Gulnara’s exchanges, when he accused her of wanting to help his enemy, Corrado, whom he had captured earlier, to escape – in these Verdian situations subtleties often need to be cast aside by performers in favour of full-blooded theatrical flow.

All the while, conductor Ken Young ensured the orchestral support for the singers was right up with the play, both in vigorous passages and in places like the lovely “sighing” effect accompanying Corrado’s lament for Medora from his prisoner’s cell. Later in the same scene the orchestra raged splendidly throughout the storm (pre-echoes of Rigoletto) that accompanied Gulnara’s killing of the sleeping Pasha Seid, the lighting kicking in brilliantly at that point for a properly hallucinatory effect.

As for the final scene, I found myself abandoning my notes and surrendering to the tide of spectacle, sound and emotion the performers were able to generate. Neither Byron nor Verdi chose a “boy-gets-girl-at-the end” scenario – Byron has the unfortunate Medora, Corrado’s lover, dead from grief before his return, whereupon he  spurns his liberator, Gulnara, who has travelled with him, and exiles himself from his island home. Verdi’s scenario has Medora die of exhausted grief when Corrado arrives with Gulnara, whereupon the remorse-laden pirate abandons the former odalisque and throws himself into the sea in true, united-in-death verismo style.

It all seemed in such accord with similar operatic irruptions of passion and cut-and-thrust – and from the same composer! So, very great credit to all concerned for a splendid realization of a hugely entertaining and surprisingly well-crafted work.

This was a critical edition of the score prepared by Verdi scholar Professor Elizabeth Hudson, Director of Te Kōkī  New Zealand School of Music, and I imagine she would have been gratified at having her work staged and delivered with such creative flair and unswerving performance commitment.