Tag: violin

Varied, attractive 25th anniversary concert from Kapiti Chamber Choir

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

‘Full Circle’:
Byrd: Mass for Four Voices
Choral music by Katherine Dienes, Felicity Williams, David Hamilton, Rossini, and folk songs
Piano music by Janáĉek and Lilburn
Violin music by Tchaikovsky

Kapiti Chamber conducted by Stuart Douglas, with Carolyn Rait (piano) and Ken Dougall (organ); solos by Helen Ridley (piano) and Richard Taylor (violin, with accompanist Judith Wheeler)

St. Paul’s Church Waikanae

Sunday, 8 July 2012, 2.30pm

The ‘Full Circle’ of the title of the concert was due to the fact that this was the 20th anniversary concert of the choir, and the programme being performed was virtually the same as that performed at the initial concert.

The choir was founded by Professor Peter Godfrey at the request of two local singers: Paddy Nash and Pat Barry.  Peter Godfrey was present at the concert, as was his successor, Dr Guy Jansen.  Stuart Douglas took over last year.

The printed programme provided a list of works sung in each year of the 20. I appreciated having all the words and translations printed.

The singing of the Byrd Mass was very fine – full of beautiful chording and purity of tone, especially from the sopranos.  The quiet opening set the scene for contemplation and plangent melismas (though these were not quite so good as the chords).

The opening was a little uneven, as were the beginnings of some of the other movements.  Latin pronunciation was excellent, and beautiful vowels were to be heard throughout the work.

This was unaccompanied singing of a high standard.  Dynamics provided variety of expression; for example in the Gloria, at ‘propter magnam gloriam tuam’(‘according to your great glory’).

The decision to modernise the translated words in the printed programme rather than use the English words of the period, or of the Anglican Prayer Book of 1662, led to a few infelicities: despite “You alone are holy, You alone are the Lord”, we had “You who removes the sins of the world…You who sits on the right hand…”

In the ‘Domine Deus’ section of the Gloria the basses were particularly admirable, while at the ‘Qui tollis’, the parts were particularly well balanced, and all produced a lovely sound; this continued in the ‘Quoniam’.

The Mass was divided, so that the Kyrie, Gloria and Credo were heard together, then after the interval, the Sanctus, Benedictus and Agnus Dei.  This was a great idea; a sung mass is interspersed throughout a church service, not all sung at once.  The attention is more focused by interspersing it in this way.

Between the longer movements, Stuart Douglas used his pitch pipe; in this first part of the mass the intonation held up well.

The ‘Et incarnatus est’ in the Credo had a limpid quality.  I thought that if I shut my eyes, I could imagine I was listening to an all-male choir in the Chapel Royal in London, for which the work was composed.  (Ladies, this is meant as a compliment!)

The crescendo at ‘Et resurrexit’ was splendidly achieved without loss of tone.  The counterpoint at ‘Et iterum venturus est’ was a fit vehicle for the words ‘And he will come again with glory…’; sublime in both its conception and rendition.  From here to the end of the Credo, there was tricky music to sing, but this choir knew its stuff very well.

‘In the mists’ by Janáçek, a work in four movements, was played by Helen Ridley, who had played at that concert 20 years earlier.  This was difficult music, and as described in the short programme note, ‘enigmatic and often melancholy’.  The pianist in her introduction described the music as expressing the composer’s mental state, his isolation as a musician, seeing what he saw as a nationalist, as tragedy occurring in his country, and to him personally.  She said that he employed folk music, and the inflections of speech, and this was obvious in the andante first movement, which built from a quiet opening to turbulent passages followed by soft cascades.

The second movement, molto adagio also contained folksy sounds, but was more contemplative to begin with, followed by stormy passages that nevertheless used the same theme.  A quiet ending finished the movement.  The third, andantino was again folksy, but also one could imagine a conversation going on between higher and deeper voices.  The tonality was modal

The final presto was not very fast, and there were many hesitant figures (and in earlier movements also).  Faster passages followed, with numerous different figures, having a dance-like feeling.  This was very skilled playing of a seldom-heard work.

The choir turned now to unaccompanied New Zealand music, the first being ‘Jesu, dulcis memoria’ by Katherine Dienes.  I remember singing this in a church service at the Cathedral in Dunedin, as part of an early New Zealand Choral Federation conference.  It is a very fine piece.  The only difficulty here was that because women tenors are used as well as men, the tone is changed, since they are singing at the bottom of their voices, whereas the male tenors are often at the top of theirs, so the effect is quite different.  It was more noticeable in this work than in some of the others.

Next came ‘Exultate jubilate’ by Felicity Williams, accompanied on the piano by Carolyn Rait.  The Christchurch composer has created a piece that is truly joyous, and also thoughtful.

Lastly, David Hamilton’s ‘Nunc dimittis’, a very effective piece with lovely harmonies and a quiet ending.

After the interval, we had the remaining movements of the Byrd Mass.  The opening tonality of the ‘Sanctus’ seemed a little difficult to begin on, and was not quite together.  However, what followed demonstrated wonderful purity in the upper parts.

The start of the Benedictus also seemed also to provide some difficulty, though the pitch at the end was fine.  However, then the Agnus Dei started slightly flat.  The work lost a bit of life at the end, but I think Byrd would have been impressed overall, as was the audience.

Richard Taylor, violin, played with Judith Wheeler two parts of Tchaikovsky’s Souvenir d’un lieu cher, Op.42 ( ‘Mélodie’ and ‘Scherzo’), the composer remembering his stay at his benefactor’s Ukrainian estate.  This young violinist (12 years of age??) performed with confidence, excellent control, a warm tone, and technical mastery.  Having long fingers is obviously an advantage.  He used dynamics well in the well-known and very lyrical first part, and performed demanding runs and double-stopping in the second.  This was quite a tour de force for a young fellow, and, along with Judith Wheeler’s exemplary playing, received a great reception.

Three sacred works of Rossini were sung by the choir with the singers mixed up in their positions, rather than being together according to voice part.  I thought this improved the blend of the choir. ‘O salutaris hostia’ featured splendid dynamic variation, while ‘Ave Maria’ (again the start not quite together), and ‘Salve O Vergine Maria’ were well-performed, with organ.  The last (in Italian, not Latin) was more rollicking in nature and romantic in style.

Helen Ridley returned to play Sonatina no.2 by Douglas Lilburn.

This piece, which the composer had dedicated to his colleague and supreme interpreter, Margaret Neilsen, was also given a spoken introduction.  There was considerable use of the sustaining pedal, which had been clearly prescribed by Lilburn.

The piece had very spare scoring, and featured typical Lilburn rhythms.  The atmosphere of the bush was created with bird song.  The three short movements were mainly slow and dreamy, the ending fading away.  They were played with empathy and clarity.

To end this rather long concert the choir sang in English three unaccompanied folk song arrangements: ‘Early one morning’, ‘O come you from Newcastle’ (both English) and the American ‘Shenandoah’.  While they were all fine, the last was the most telling, with appealing harmonies and a real feeling of longing conveyed in the voices.  The last verse was split into many parts; a most effective arrangement and a lovely ending to the concert.

The choir, through a wide repertoire, proved itself most versatile and capable.

 

Sergey Malov and Michael Houstoun – capturing the ebb and flow

Posted on by Peter Mechen

Chamber Music Hutt Valley presents:

SERGEY MALOV (violin/viola) and MICHAEL HOUSTOUN (piano)

SCHUBERT – Sonata in A Minor “Arpeggione” D.821 / JS BACH – Violincello Suite No.3 in C Major

SCHUMANN – Violon Sonata No.1 in A MInor Op.105 / PAGANINI – “La Campanella” (finale of Violin Concerto No.2)

Little Theatre, Lower Hutt

Friday 22nd June 2012

Rarely does a concert begin more poetically than when Schubert’s music is involved – or so it always seems at the time. The opening exchanges between piano and, in this case, viola, of the intriguingly-named “Arpeggione” Sonata brought their own resonance and warmth to the somewhat ungrateful acoustic of the Lower Hutt Little Theatre, thanks to both pianist Michael Houstoun’s and violist Sergey Malov’s lyrical, deeply-felt playing.

Schubert’s “Arpeggione” Sonata was so-called because of the music’s original commission for the so-named six-stringed instrument, one rather like a viola da gamba but fretted like a guitar. Its repertoire is today nearly always played on either a viola or ‘cello, though I have heard of moves afoot to reintroduce the beast for our interest and, hopefully, pleasure.

In particular, Malov’s viola sound had that quality shared by the playing of all great instrumentalists, at once a rich, mellow quality, but one that would sharpen its focus at moments along the musical line, indicating the strength of the thought behind the music-making. And no better a chamber-music partner here, than Michael Houstoun, whose sensitive, yet equally-focused playing seemed a perfect mirror for Malov’s intensities.

What struck me in particular was the intimacy of the musical discourse in places, the readiness of both players to draw their listeners in – but never self-consciously. One always felt the sensation of a composer’s thoughts and dreams flooding the places we were taken, a full gamut of expression, with nothing denied the chance to have its say. My notes are filled with comments such as “so spontaneous-sounding” and “wondrous flexibility of phrasing”, folllowed by “dreaming and introspective” and “communicating sheer enjoyment” – all impressions that defy analysis, but were foremost for me in the concert’s experience.

Following the Schubert, the Bartok Solo Violin Sonata was scheduled, but to our surprise Sergey Malov re-entered still carrying his viola. He asked the audience’s pardon, but said that he thought, after consultation with Michael Houstoun, that the hall’s sound with such a near-capacity audience would not serve the Bartok well, and so he proposed to play for us instead one of JS Bach’s solo ‘Cello Suites on his viola. Having enjoyed the Schubert, I was glad to have more of the viola’s attractively mellow voice, and agreeably pleased to hear how eloquently the instrument in Malov’s hands traversed the figurations of one of these works – in fact the Third Suite in C Major.

This was music-making which underlined the idea that, in Baroque music, the instrumental timbres and colours for different works seemed to matter far less than the player’s basic musicianship in bringing these things to life. At no point did I find myself thinking, “Oh, that comes off better on the ‘cello”, due to such care regarding note-values and overall phrasing being taken throughout by the player. Not that the approach was a literal “cross every “t” and dot every “i”, as Malov’s playing had a strongly-projected sense of freedom and spontaneity with whatever he did. Predominantly rhythmic movements were deliciously and pliably pointed (I enjoyed the occasional ambiguity of the music’s propulsion in the third movement), and Malov relished the near-strident “pulling the cat’s tail” couple of notes which Bach uses to induce tension during the last of the movements.

For the second half we moved slightly upwards in our listening, to the violin – Malov gave us Schumann’s First Sonata in A minor, a lovely performance from both violinist and pianist, rich, dark, agitated and unquiet throughout the ever-striving opening. Schumann writes such passionate melodies that often remain open-ended, heightening the longing for fulfillment, a super-sensitivity, but expressed in an entirely human way. Again I was taken with Michael Houstoun’s sensitive playing, ever alive to what his partner was doing and acting and reacting accordingly.

Though there’s lyrical warmth aplenty throughout certain moments, other episodes In Schumann’s chamber music can sound somewhat dour, with near-obessive repetition risking monotony. Such wasn’t the case here, as violinist and pianist brought so much light and shade to their voicing and interactive phrasings. And they brought out all the Allegretto second movement’s whimsical qualities, taking time to allow the brief German forest-echo sequence some resonance, before the opening’s reprise. The finale, though serious and purposeful, was kept nimble and buoyant, the dialogues between violin and piano beautiful synchronized, with the players bringing out singing lines in the midst of great energies.

The programme’s final listed item was Paganini’s “La Campanella”, taken from the finale of the composer’s Second Violin Concerto. This was a kind of extra-musical treat, with the composer most obviously out to entertain, delight, astonish, stupefy and generally gobsmack his audiences by requiring all kinds of instrumental pyrotechnics from his soloist. Occasionally there was some music, the famous theme, no less! – but it tended to be forgotten amid the breathholding double-stopped harmonics, the left-handed pizzicati, and the double-stopped legato phrasings ascending and descending. Michael Houstoun orchestrated his part wonderfully in places, but generally provided a solid foundation for Malov’s (and Paganini’s) violinistic flights of fancy.

After these heady entertainments, Sergey Malov seemed to rethink in part his decision to not attempt the Bartok Sonata, because as an encore he played part of the work, which, after the technical coruscations of the Paganini, actually fell more gratefully that one might have expected on our ears. I think this was perhaps because he had by this time “played in” both himself and his audience, to the point where he felt he could give us anything – our listening had been ‘fine-tuned” most satisfactorily, or so it seemed.

The exerpt from the sonata had a furtive, “pursued” aspect at the start, with the violinist having to jump back and forth between registers in places. When muted, the strings took on an even more shadowy, haunted character, a compelling world of sound thrown into relief by the soulful, pleading mute-removed lines which vie with the scampering music at the end. By the time he had finished we all wished he had in fact played the whole Bartok work after all – in retrospect, at the end of the concert would have been an ideal place because of that “playing-in” phenomenon which would have worked similar wonders with any demanding piece of modern or near-contemporary music.

So – a wonderful concert, one I will enjoy for ages to come, long after those actual sounds have died away. How marvellous to have heard a string player of such calibre, and with a pianist who brought his customary focus and beautifully appointed technical finish to a partnership of equals.

Brilliant violin and piano recital from Blythe Press and Richard Mapp

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Music by Bach, Brahms, Chausson, Bowater and Ravel

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday 16 November 2011, 12.15pm

Though it has become conventional not to perform individual movements of extended works of music, it often works quite well. This admirable recital did that very successfully, with the first movement – the Adagio – from Bach’s solo Violin Sonata No 1 in G minor, and again with the first two movements – Allegro and Adagio – from Brahms’s Third Violin Sonata. Only those quite familiar with the works would have felt a little unfulfilled when the music failed to continue as expected.

The compensation was the singularly thoughtful and musically sensitive performances from the young Blythe Press and accompanist Richard Mapp. Press is only 22, grew up in the Kapiti area, began studies at Victoria University but, getting a scholarship to study in Graz, Austria, graduated there earlier this year with a master’s degree with distinction. There he has distinguished himself in European competitions and as soloist with the Styrian Youth Orchestra. He toured New Zealand last year with the Cook Strait Trio (see the review in Middle C of 22 August 2010), and also played for the NZSO on their European tour.

The first movement of Bach’s first solo violin sonata (played without the score) was both an intelligent and imaginative move, for it made the audience attend to the careful and painstaking approach that guided his performance; it was unhurried, with slightly prolonged pauses between phrases, that put his stamp on the music’s profound meditative character. It stood on its own with no hint of self-indulgence.

The two movements of Brahms’s last violin sonata were equally impressive. The first might be marked Allegro but Press captured the pervasive feeling of calm and deliberation; with the piano lid on the long stick, which can allow an accompaniment to dominate the textures, Mapp maintained the pace and dynamic levels that the violin adopted: the two were in perfect sympathy, especially arresting in the more animated central section. The Adagio presented Press with the chance to revel in the beautiful warmth of his instrument, expressing a world-weary spirit with sensitivity.

Perhaps the centre-piece was Chausson’s lovely Poème, which is usually heard in full orchestral dress where it is easier to envelope it in a romantic and impressionist spirit. The two players handled it with a profound familiarity and confidence and with a deep affection, all the decorative features appearing intrinsic rather than pasted on merely for display.

Helen Bowater’s piece for solo violin may have been chosen to complement Ravel’s Tsigane, for Lautari denotes a class of Romanian gypsy musicians. I had not heard it before and was attracted both by its idiom, clearly derived from Eastern European folk music, and the confident personal touches that placed it pretty firmly in today’s musical context, though not in a vein given over to excessive experimental devices and gestures. Nevertheless, its writing (he played with the score before him) clearly presented challenges that Press overcame effortlessly.

It was a nice prelude to the Ravel in which the violin plays a long, unaccompanied, flamboyant cadenza. The Liszt of the Hungarian Rhapsodies is never far away, as the technical difficulties present the violin with comparable terrors. Press dealt with its two-handed pizzicato dashes and its full repertoire of impossibilities, never losing sight of the music itself which is not merely flashy virtuosity.

The recital was essential St Andrew’s stuff, offering the audience a chance to hear a young prodigy of whom we’ll hear much more.

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End of Year recitals from School of Music

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

New Zealand School of Music Post-graduate Student Recitals: Tabea Squire (violin), Imogen Thirlwall (soprano), Kieran Rayner (baritone)

Adam Concert Room, Victoria University of Wellington

Friday, 31 October, 3 and 4 November 2011

What these recitals demonstrated was the very high standard of musicians emerging from university today.  All have had performance experience (once much harder to obtain than now), and have emerged fully rounded recitalists.

It is sad that few members of the public attended the violin recital compared with those at the vocalists’; singers have more glamour and appeal, obviously.

Tabea Squire played the Ciaconna from Bach’s Partita no.2 for solo violin, and Poème by Ernest Chausson, the latter accompanied by Emma Sayers.  This was an extremely demanding programme.  The technical demands were great, including for the pianist, since the Chausson work had the piano playing a reduction from the orchestral score.

The violinist has a natural, non-distracting stance when playing (unlike that of a certain recent overseas soloist with the NZSO).  After a bold start to the Bach she exhibited her excellent technique, and great attention to detail.  A few minor intonation wobbles did not detract from a fine performance.  The tone was sometimes a little raw (her violinist father told me she was playing a new violin), most of which can probably be put down to the Adam Concert Room’s acoustics.  Nevertheless, her volume was appropriate and on the whole the sound she made was pleasing.

Runs were very clean, and the techniques of multiple stopping and using the bow across all the strings in succession were taxing but very well done.  This was a very skilled, accomplished performance, especially for someone with rather small hands.

Programme notes were good, apart from a few typos.; the works were played from memory.

The Chausson work also had a sturdy start.  The double-stopping was excellent, but there were a few fluffs.  It was unfortunate that the sustaining pedal on the piano made noises not required by the score.

Sometimes the pitch was slightly under the note, particularly towards the end; the work did not come off as well as did the Bach.  Although parts sounded poetic, overall the performance was not quite poetical or ethereal enough.  However, the ending was beautifully done.

Imogen Thirlwall gave her recital four days later.  Unfortunately I got there late, missing the first four items, (Mozart, Britten, Schoenberg) thanks to a vehicle parked over the end of my drive preventing me from catching the train I intended to be on.  Printed programmes had run out by the time I arrived, but I had access to a neighbour’s copy, especially after he left at the first of two short intervals.  Approximately 30 people were present.  Much of the programme was unfamiliar to me: demanding works by Schoenberg and Barber, for example.  Mark Dorrell accompanied well, but sometimes a little too heavily for my taste.

The printed programme was impressive, with a considerable body of notes, and a list of sources at the end.  What was even more impressive was the fact that the excellent translations from French, Italian, German and Spanish were all by the singer herself.  The other languages in her recital were Latin, English and Russian – a grand line-up.

However, more proof-reading would probably have picked up numbers of errors such as misspellings, words and letters left out, and punctuation mistakes.  Worst perhaps, was the misspelling on the back cover of names of those she wished to thank.  There were a few oddities in the otherwise thorough programme notes, such as regarding Mozart’s Exsultate Jubilate ‘Even though it  was written with a castrato singer in mind, this is often performed by sopranos’!  (Who sings it the other times?); Homer’s Odyssey being a novel; being in the Romantic period, and Turina’s and Bellini’s compositions having ‘received… success’ (‘met with’ would convey the meaning better, or ‘received acclaim’, and be more grammatically accurate).

These niggles aside, a fine recital was what the audience received.  Imogen Thirlwall conveyed drama in both face and voice, but not to excess.  After very satisfactory performances of the two Schoenberg song I heard, we were we treated to a very fine performance of ‘No word from Tom’, from Stravinsky’s The Rake’s Progress.

Thirlwall was thoroughly on top of her programme.  In the two Rachmaninov songs that followed, she produced considerable volume when required, but never too much for the size of the room.   These items gave Mark Dorrell a lot of hard work.  The singer has lovely tone at the bottom of her voice (unlike some sopranos).

We then turned to opera: a recitative and aria from Bellini’s La sonnambula.  Perhaps the volume was a little high in the recitative, but the execution of this and the aria was  accomplished, and the florid sections were beautifully performed.

A Poulenc song was admirably sung.  Turina followed.  I noticed here too much repetition of the opening phrase in the notes: “Turina was a Spanish composer”.  Substitute ‘Poulenc’ and ‘French’, ‘Rachmaninov’ and ‘Russian’, etc.  But the style of singing was utterly appropriate for the Spanish composer – more expansive, and with more use of portamento.  Thirlwall uses her resonators outstandingly well.

After another brief interval we were treated to ‘Quando men vo’ from Puccini’s La Bohème.  This was a very classy rendition.

A Debussy song with words by Verlaine was fun and expressive, followed by a cabaret song by Schoenberg sung with character and appropriate tone.  The final song was Natural Selection by Jake Heggie, sung with terrific style and panache.

Kieran Rayner had his turn the following day, and a sizeable audience heard him.  His printed programme featured woodland scenes in colour on the front and back, and inside the front cover, portraits of the ten composers whose works he would sing.  As well, there were a couple of photos of the singer, one of the accompanist, and two taken from productions of the operas (in one case a film production) from which he sang.  Rayner had arranged his programme under a series of headings, such as ‘Mischief and Misdirection’; ‘Reminiscence and Regret’.

Unfortunately (from my point of view), the recital was to commence half-an-hour later than had originally been advertised, meaning that I missed the second half, due to another engagement.  Thus I did not hear Mozart, Ravel (Don Quichotte à Dulcinée), Donizetti (I imagine the excerpt from L’Elisir d’Amore would have suited this singer well), Tchaikovsky (from The Queen of Spades), Finzi, Britten, and Rossini.  This delay was occasioned by the fact that the poor examiners needed a rest in their long day of hearing singers’ recitals.

I had not heard Rayner in this venue before; the acoustic here certainly amplifies the voice compared with that at St. Andrew’s on The Terrace.  Rayner was accompanied here by Bruce Greenfield.  As always, the latter judges the acoustic exactly right.

The opening aria, from Orlando by Handel, was very florid, but sung with assurance.  The low notes were very good, and the articulation splendid.

Next came a nice conceit: excerpts from Mendelssohn’s Elijah presented by a character Rayner called James Leveson-Gower (he couldn’t know that in England this name is pronounced Lewson-Gore), as if part of a television series “The Bible Alive”, this episode being entitled “Elijah’s Road to Redemption”.  Rayner assumed spectacles and notes to introduce each aria separately as his character.  These interspersed acted elements were effective, and demonstrated the singer’s acting skill.

The recitatives and arias were sung with plenty of feeling and expression; words were very clear, and Rayner used consonants very well.  Mainly, the singing was good, but occasionally there was unattractive tone, the voice nearly cracking.  Perhaps these bass arias were at times too low for the baritone range.  Overall, it was a splendid performance.  In addition to the ‘television’ introductions, there were ample notes and the titles were printed, along with a description of the stage of the story into which the arias fitted.

Next up was a taxing ‘Journey Through Grief and Love’: Lieder Eines Fahrenden Gesellen by Gustav Mahler.  Again, notes about the composer and the song-cycle, and a complete translation of the words, provided ample apparatus to assist the listener.

I felt that most of these songs needed a slightly more restrained tone: they are poems of woeful contemplation.  The third song required a more declamatory style, which suited this singer better; the song was quite fast.  The fourth song, ‘Die zwei blauen Augen’ was a little too raw – the voice was sounding just a little tired.

There is a considerable range in these songs; perhaps it was too great for Rayner.  Nevertheless, it was accurate singing, with success particularly in his higher register, which is very fine.  Bruce Greenfield’s accompaniments were just superb.  It was with regret that I dragged myself away; I am sure the second half, particularly the more humorous or light-hearted items, would have been sung very well.

 

 

Tasmin Little clothed, with naked violin, in diverting recital

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

The Naked Violin

Playing and talking about the violin: Luslawice Variations by Paul Petterson; Bach: Solo Violin Sonata No 1, BWV 1001 and Partita No 3, BWV 1006; Eugène Isaÿe: Sonata in D minor, Op 27 No 3 ‘Ballade’

Tasmin Little (violin)

Ilott Theatre

Sunday 22 May, 3pm

Tasmin Little is in New Zealand as one of the adjudicators for the Michael Hill International Violin Competition, but she has also played the Sibelius Concerto with the Auckland Philharmonia Orchestra and a solo concert in Christchurch in the place of a concert with the Christchurch Symphony Orchestra since the earthquake damaged the Town Hall.

Her Naked Violin performances was arranged in Hamilton and Wellington through the chamber music societies in each city.

It is encouraging that eminent musicians such as Little are more often being invited to perform in contexts additional to the main purpose of their visit, in other places around the country. Too often in the past, players of international renown come to play a concerto with an orchestra, but no effort is made to set up solo recitals for them, even in the city in which they play.

Interviews on both National Radio and RNZ Concert during the past week revealed an engaging and sparkling personality and they may well have led to a full Ilott Theatre. Her routine involves no comedy one-liners or risqué gags – ‘Naked’ was clearly sufficient enticement.

After explaining what she aimed to do she took us step by step through the first piece, named for the place of a Polish chamber music festival, by English composer Paul Patterson. By the time the performance arrived the themes that she’d laid out sounded like old favourites (almost). It was no doubt chosen for the range of violinist playing devices that it demands, from left hand pizzicato to spiccato and false harmonics through the length of each string.

Parts of two Bach solo violin pieces followed. Two movements each from the Sonata No 1 in G minor and the Partita No 2 in E minor. Her playing is personally undemonstrative; rather, its impact on the audience came from its obvious and straightforward urge to make contact musically with the audience, just as she had through her open and self-effacing dialogue with them.

In the middle of the programme Tasmin invited questions from the floor about anything relating to the violin, the music or to her own experiences and intentions. That resulted in some interesting questions, and answers, about ‘historically-informed’ performance, how Bach would find performances of his music today, the way the performer might alter what the composer had in mind, how she managed to achieve success as a performer. Her reply to the small girl’s question, what was ‘her favourite song’ when she was young, might not have meant a lot to her (a piece by Delius).

Her last piece was the third solo violin sonata by Eugène Isaÿe; though I’ve heard it played several times and admire many aspects, it still sounds more like a very elaborate cadenza which I expect to end with the awaited ‘cadence’ that allows the orchestra to re-enter the fray. However, the performance was, like all her other playing, marked by an unostentatious mastery and a musicality that drew attention simply to the musical qualities of the piece.