Tag: vocal

Wellington Aria Contest final: singers in good form

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

The Dame Malvina Major Foundation Aria Contest

Finals of Wellington Regional Aria Contest of Hutt Valley Performing Arts Competitions Society
Adjudicator: Glenese Blake

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

Sunday, 21 August 2011, 7.30pm

The contest that was The Evening Post aria contest for many years continues in good heart. This year, the contestants were all past or present students of the New Zealand School of Music, and almost all had been recently through a period of very hard work, as cast members of the brilliant, highly entertaining and successful production of Britten’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

It is therefore doubly gratifying to note that all were in good form, and the performances were of a very high standard, as judge Glenese Blake noted in her concluding remarks.

Compère Richard Greager, one of the voice tutors at NZSM, was an excellent MC, and gave succinct, sometimes humorous, introductions to the operas from which the arias had been selected by the singers

There were two rounds, with the singers performing in the same order each time. Hugh McMillan accompanied all except one of the singers (the other being accompanied by Jonathan Berkahn), and did so with an economy of gesture and a sympathetic rapport with each singer. The piano was never too loud, but gave sufficient support and attention to dynamics in each aria.

First up each time was Imogen Thirlwell. Her enthusiastic and committed performances were backed by strong singing, with appropriate facial expression in, firstly, Mozart’s “Padre, germani, addio” from Idomeneo. Sometimes those expressions were overdone for the relative intimacy of the church, compared with a staged performance in a theatre. An almost constant mezzo-forte palled after a while. Nevertheless, the performance deserved a ‘Well done!’

Bridget Costello was next, who sang so well as Tytania in the Britten opera. She chose “Song to the Moon” from Dvořák’s Rusalka. It was beautifully sung, in Czech, with every note in place, and the mood conveyed well. However, there was too much distracting gesture. Such a lovely aria doesn’t need this. It is a contemplation of, and a conversation with the moon, not an action song or a Tai Chi exercise.

Amelia Ryman chose an aria from Manon by Massenet: “Adieu, notre petite table”. Wearing a beautiful classical gown, Ryman sang this in very dramatic fashion, with a good variation of dynamics and tone. It was a very fine performance.

Rose Blake’s plain red dress matched the hangings and carpet in St. Andrew’s. Her “Je dis que rien m’épouvante” (Micaela’s aria) from Carmen by Bizet was sung well, and her voice had developed more power than I had previously heard it display. There were some quite lovely sounds, but I did not feel involved in Micaëla’s plight. There was little engagement or communication with the audience.

Daniela-Rosa Young’s beautiful dress, and the dark red rose she held, matched the décor also. This singer communicated well with the audience, through eye-contact. She had wonderful control, beautiful pianissimos, especially on high notes, and after she had finished singing “Ah, non credea” from Bellini’s La Sonnambula, was quite relaxed, unlike some of the other performers, despite the difficulty of this piece. Hugh McMillan’s delicate pianism in the recitative was enchanting. After Daniela had sung, I wrote “1” in the margin of my paper.

Thomas Atkins is an assured tenor, singing his aria “De miei bollenti” from La Traviata by Verdi with great ease. His Italian was good (the judge had comments about some of the Italian she heard). The top of his voice is exciting, and Italianate, but he had a hint of roughness at the endings of some high notes. Nevertheless, his singing was very accomplished.

Last year’s second place-getter, Kieran Rayner, sang an aria in Russian: Yeletsy’s aria from The Queen of Spades by Tchaikovsky. His is a very secure baritone, and his stance was relaxed. The modulations Tchaikovsky has written make this quite a difficult aria, not to mention the language. Rayner did not seem totally at ease or in command, although his high notes were very fine. Perhaps a little more variety was needed in both dynamics and emotional passion.

A third male singer followed (apparently the order was arrived at by drawing lots, so this was complete chance): Thomas Barker. He was accompanied by Jonathan Berkahn, who began somewhat louder than Hugh McMillan had played, though he soon adjusted, but over-pedalled. This aria, “Within this frail crucible” from Benjamin Britten’s Lucretia was perhaps a little too low in the voice for Barker, but his high notes were gorgeous. His intonation suffered a couple of times, but the mood and character were communicated well.

Isabella Moore made a great job of Mimì’s famous aria from La Bohème by Puccini: “Si mi chiamino Mimì”. Her voice has a luscious quality over a wide range. She has an easy manner on stage, and communicates well with the audience. Her voice production appears effortless – a bonus for her hearers, who do not want to worry about how the singer is achieving her sounds. Her language was good; altogether an excellent performance.

After a short interval, the second round began, with quite a long aria from Imogen Thirlwell: Monica’s waltz from The Medium by Menotti. Thirwell told the story of Monica and Toby (in English) very effectively throughout quite a long aria. Her words were enunciated supremely well, which made me wonder if there should be an award for the best rendition of a song or aria sung in English, to match Jenny Wollerman’s award for the equivalent in French.

As Norina in Donizetti’s Don Pasquale, Bridget Costello was well cast. However, again there was far too much gesture. It should be primarily about singing and putting over a story, unless the performers are in a fully staged production. The aria was very skilfully sung – and accompanied. Characterisation and communication were very good; the voice is bright and flexible, and this was a difficult aria well executed.

Amelia Ryan sang the only item to have been repeated in the programme – Mimì’s aria that had already been sung by Isabella Moore. Amelia Ryan sang it very well, but like an opera singer, compared with the simpler style of Moore. However, her rendition contained a lot of subtleties, and she used the language well. Communication with the audience was exceptionally good.

Another aria in English was sung, by Rose Blake: the Embroidery aria from Peter Grimes, by Benjamin Britten. Her voice is pleasing, and her high notes were first-class. But her unsmiling arrival before the audience and deadpan presentation for most of the aria, until passion entered, plus her lack of stage presence or feeling of singing to an audience told against her. Yet I remember her excellent performance in Handel’s Semele a couple of years ago – so perhaps she needs an actual dramatic presentation to be able to communicate.

Daniela-Rosa Young gave us many beautiful notes in “Je marche” from Massenet’s Manon. There was subtlety and variety in this aria, which travels through a number of moods, all of which she realised well. One or two notes were little under pitch, but other technical demands were met extremely well, including trills.

Mozart did not seem to suit Thomas Atkins as well as the Italian aria had. His voice cracked a couple of times in “Un’ aura amorosa” from that composer’s Così fan Tutte. In my opinion, a smoother tone was needed.

Kieran Rayner provoked greater applause, vocal as well as manual, with his performance of Figaro’s well-known aria “Largo al factotum” from The Barber of Seville by Rossini. He entered, singing, from the back of the church, and acted out the part, even with a prop, while Hugh McMillan had, for the only time, to resort to a page-turner, such was the pace of this aria. It suited him much better than the Russian one in the first half. His fluency, diction and characterisation were superb, and his voice vibrant, compelling and euphonious. The great pace of the aria seemingly was not a problem for him. This performance was indeed hard to beat.

“O! vin, dissipe la tristesse” from Hamlet by Thomas, was Thomas Barker’s offering. He produced very fine singing with great resonance. His facial expressions were part of his good communication with the audience.

Finally, Isabella Moore sang again – “Come scoglio” from Così fan Tutte. Her full voice made the most of this superb aria, with its extensive range. Her singing was expressive, and very true; the words were splendid and although her breathing was sometimes a little noisy, this was a marvellous performance.

Now for the awards:

The judge agreed with me, and awarded the Dame Malvina Major Foundation Aria prize and Rosina Buckman Memorial Cup to Daniela Rosa-Young, who also won the Jenny Wollerman Award for a French aria. Runner-up to the main award was Kieran Rayner. Winner of the Robin Dumbell Memorial Cup ‘for the young entrant with the most potential’ went to Amelia Ryman, while the Rokfire Cup (spelt thus, not “Rockfire” as in the programme) for the most outstanding competitor (in all the senior vocal classes in the Hutt Valley Competitions, not only the aria contest) was won by Imogen Thirlwell. Congratulations to all; each competitor in the final received $100.

Here was another concert which suffered from insufficient audience, caused in part at least from a lack of advertising. I’m told that in Rotorua, the aria contest commands a full house. I’m sure the quality of the contestants’ performances was just as high in Wellington, and efforts should be made to reach the widest possible public. There was no advertising for this event in ‘Live Diary’ on Radio New Zealand Concert that day, for example.

This was an evening of superb singing. Yet barely 40 people came to hear it. A large proportion of them were fellow-students with the contestants; many others, their family members. There’s nothing wrong with that, but the quality on show here deserved many more hearers.

Wellington Orchestra’s unfinished business

Posted on by Peter Mechen

UNFINISHED SYMPHONIES – Schubert, Mozart, Berio

SCHUBERT – Symphony No.8 in B Minor D.759 “Unfinished”

MOZART – Piano Concerto No.24 in C Minor K.491

MOZART – Concert Aria “Ch’io mi scordi di te….Non temer, amato bene” K.505

BERIO – Rendering (1989)

Vector Wellington Orchestra / Marc Taddei (conductor)

with: Diedre Irons (piano) and Margaret Medlyn (soprano)

Wellington Town Hall

Saturday 23rd July 2011

This concert both played the game and bended the rules in the most interesting possible way – we had what’s become a common orchestral concert format of introductory work, concerto and symphony, but most interestingly constituted and creatively “placed”, so that the feeling of “the same old formula” was nicely avoided.

Basically, it was a Schubert/Mozart evening, but with a major contribution from a more-or-less contemporary voice. This was the Italian composer Luciano Berio, who in 1989 produced an orchestral work, Rendering, one which took the fragments of Schubert’s uncompleted work on a Tenth Symphony as the basis for a three-movement work. “Not a completion or a reconstruction” of the Symphony, declared Berio, but a “restoration” – and the work gave an uncanny feeling of two intensely creative impulses separated by two hundred years coming together for a kind of reawakening.

Instead of an overture beginning the concert we had an intensely dramatic performance of Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony, which, together with Mozart’s C Minor Piano Concerto K.491, suggested a preponderance of seriousness throughout the concert’s first half, a state of things which didn’t eventuate to the expected degree, I thought, more of which anon. The second half was similarly innovative, beginning with Mozart’s best-known Concert Aria for soprano, Ch’io mi scordi di te…Non temer, amato bene K.505, and concluding with Berio’s Rendering.

So, our expectations were nicely-tempered by these prospects; and the concert got off to the best possible beginning with a performance of the eponymous “Unfinished” Symphony which seemed akin to giving an old masterpiece a restoration job of its own – Marc Taddei encouraged his orchestra to play out in all departments, less of a rounded “Germanic” sound and more a thrustful, characterfully Viennese texture, lean and detailed, the brass occasionally risking obtrusiveness but generally making their presence refreshingly felt. With several on-the-spot contributions from timpanist Stephen Bremner, and wonderfully soulful playing from the winds (magnificent individually and as a group throughout the concert), the work here “spoke” with a directness and candour which too many routine performances over the years in concert and on record have sadly blunted. I ought to mention the strings, too, characteristically playing well above their weight (those “slashing” off-beat chords just before the second subject had such ear-catching focus and determination), pulsating the first movement with energy and life throughout. And I’ve never experienced a sense of the abyss opening up so ominously at the beginning of the development section as in this performance – those lower strings evoked such darkly disturbing realms as to bring home in no uncertain terms the tragic subtext beneath the music’s surface energies.

Those energies enabled the musicians to make more of the contrasts between the movements, with the opening of the Andante measured, mellow and easeful. Apart from a slight hiccup with the final note of her “big tune”, Moira Hurst’s clarinet playing sounded as beautifully heartfelt as we’d come to expect, the phrases echoed as memorably by the other winds, before being savagely pirated by baleful brass,whose forceful chordings over the string figurations were a striking feature of this performance. Near the end of the movement Taddei conjured from his players some gorgeously-coloured modulations (what Schumann called “other realms”) before the music resignedly returned to its destiny. If a couple of pairs of applauding hands in the auditorium broke the spell at the work’s end somewhat abruptly, the impulses were sound and their intrusion forgivable – I thought this was, through-and-through, a magnificent performance.

Mozart’s C Minor Concerto K.491 promised more storms and stresses, though it was largely the orchestra that agitated the musical argument, Diedre Irons’ piano playing taking a more stoic, in places relatively circumspect manner and aspect. Though the tensions weren’t repeatedly screwed to their utmost by such an approach, there were compensations in Irons’ detailed and rhapsodic exposition of the music, alive to every nuance of sensitive expression, apart from a measure or two towards the end of the movement where a brief moment of piano-and-orchestra hesitancy seemed to slightly blur the lines of the argument for a couple of seconds. In certain places, Irons, Taddei and the players superbly realized the music’s power, those dark coruscations of interchange at the heart of the development dug into with a will, while elsewhere, such as in the orchestral lead-up to the first movement cadenza, there was drama and thrust aplenty, soloist and orchestra each taking it in turns to galvanize the other.

Pianist and conductor played each of the concerto’s movements more-or-less attacca, which worked well, and emphasized the symphonic character of the work’s overall mood. The slow movement stole upon us almost out of nowhere, Irons’s playing allowing the melody to speak directly and simply to the heart, adding the occasional decoration to phrase-ends when the melody is repeated. The orchestral winds really showed their mettle in this movement, Taddei encouraging plenty of urgency and dynamic variation from the players to contrast with the piano’s simplicity, making for some glorious, chamber-music-like moments of lyrical interaction. After this, the “coiled spring” opening of the finale was like an awakening from a dream, the urgencies taking different shapes and forms, until the winds adroitly turned the argument towards open spaces and festive activity for a few measures, valiantly but vainly attempting to elude the demons that continued to stalk the music right to the end, through the piano’s chromatic scamperings and the orchestra’s desperate concluding flourish. I could have imagined sterner, bigger-boned piano playing in this work, but Irons’ approach brought a degree of vulnerability to the musical discourse, one that could be readily applied to human experience.

After the interval more Mozart, but with a difference – the adorable Concert Aria written for one of the composer’s favorite singers, Nancy Storace (there’s conjecture as to whether she and Mozart were lovers for a brief period, though the supposition is based on conjecture rather than proof – Mozart wrote in his dedication of the work, “…for Mme Storace and me…”). The Aria, Ch’io mi scordi di te…Non temer, amato bene K.505 is notable not only for its intense operatic expression, but for its beautiful piano obbligato, which, in a real sense, is a “second voice”. Margaret Medlyn told us in a program note of her early involvement with the work, an experience which she says has never left her. There was no doubt as to her intense involvement with the emotional range and depth of the aria – Medlyn is always extremely satisfying as a performer on that score – and if the tessitura at the very end sounded a bit of an ungainly stretch (rather like an ocean liner trying to negotiate a treacherous piece of water) the visceral effect of the singer’s total involvement was thrilling. Diedre Irons, Marc Taddei and the players gave Medlyn all the support she needed, making for an uncommonly involving vignette of intense listening and feeling.

And so to Luciano Berio’s Rendering, which would, I think, have been an intriguing prospect for most listeners, myself included. I liked the concept (explained by Marc Taddei before the work began, using the analogy of paint that had fallen off an original work) of a “restoration” of Schubert’s original sketches for an unfinished – yes, ANOTHER one! – symphony (there are also piano sonatas…..but we won’t go into that). Berio himself explained that his work was like modern restorations of medieval paintings, such as frescoes, which aim at reviving the old colours within, but without trying to disguise the wear-and-tear of time – meaning that gaps would inevitably be left in the original (as with the famous Giotto frescoes in Assisi). Berio, however, interpolated other material into these gaps (bits of “other” Schubert and bits of Berio himself), colouring the sounds with that of a celeste (of the “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” fame), the delicate, rather disembodied effect imparting a somewhat “other-worldly” ambience to these passages, as if the composer’s shade was sifting through the assembled material, muttering his thoughts to himself.

The original material is very recognizably Schubert – the composer left a considerable amount of material (which was, for whatever reason, made public as recently as 1978 in Vienna, the date being the 150th anniversary of Schubert’s death). I scribbled down many impressions of the music, noting the reminiscences of works I knew – after the fanfare-like opening, near the beginning, there’s a lovely clarinet solo, reminiscent of the Third Symphony, for example – a bit later, the ‘cellos have a melody like that in the “other” Unfinished, to quote another example. But interspersed with these things, and the ghostly, celeste-led interludes, the music was quite forthright, even swashbuckling in places, and hardly, one would think, the utterances of somebody preparing for an early death.

The second movement, Andante, made a more sober impression, the oboe and bassoon playing adding plangent tones to the argument, the mood ennobled by a theme on the full orchestra, then suddenly taken to that “other world”, in this movement the sequences seeming to me in places to combine Schubert’s actual melodies with a counterpoint of Berio’s “renderings”, more so than in other parts of the work. A pizzicato chord sparking off furious activity suggested the finale’s beginning, featuring a tune with what sounded like a Scottish snap, and orchestral energies building up to the kind of joyous rhythmic repetition found in the finale of the Ninth Symphony. The “ghost music” and the composer’s more forthright original material vie for attention throughout, before the work ends with a big, muscular forte orchestral statement – emotional health in the midst of worldly privation!

What can one say to all of this, except Bravo! to Marc Taddei and the Vector Wellington Orchestra!

A popular lunchtime miscellany from three sopranos at Old St Paul’s

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Janet van Polanen, Hannah Catrin Jones and Lydia McDonnell –
sopranos

Love Songs: traditional and popular, and opera arias

Old St Paul’s, Mulgrave Street

Tuesday 19 July 12.15pm

Three sopranos whose taste and dispositions span the song repertoire from classical through the musical and film hits to old-fashioned ballads and folk songs took their turn at Old St Paul’s regular Tuesday lunchtime concerts.

The early part of the concert included a few opera arias.
None of the three singers would lay claim to polished operatic voices that would meet the expectations of the professional world of opera, though all have studied professionally, but they were nicely placed in a concert of this kind.

Lydia McDonnell sang Cherubino’s aria, ‘Voi che sapete’ from The Marriage of Figaro, charming, though it might not quite have caught the tone of that randy adolescent boy; later she sang most agreeably, Schubert’s Serenade (from his final song cycle, Swan Song).

Hannah Catrin Jones also sang a Mozart aria, Zerlina’s comforting song to Masetto, ‘Vedrai carino’, from Don Giovanni, offering him balm for the injuries the Don has inflicted, with a degree of the coy suggestiveness that the words make plain. Hannah’s second aria was from La Bohème – Musetta’s ‘Waltz Song’ – ‘Quando me’n vo’ which she sang nicely though she took it rather slowly and it was arch rather than simply flighty and self-admiring.

Janet van Polanen’s classical song was the evergreen 18th century aria, ‘Se tu m’ami’ by Alessandro Parisotti (which was one of the many pieces published under the more famous name Giovanni Pergolesi). Though her brief précis of the song was delivered too quietly for most of the audience to hear (the church’s acoustic is not generous for most speaking voices) she caught its sentiment very well.

Janet had opened the recital with a song that was more the predominant style – a charming and still popular song ‘Where do I begin?’, from a classic film of its kind – Love Story – with its soundtrack composed by Francis Lai: it was slightly uneasy, as an opening piece often is, but idiomatic. Later, Janet sang other songs in similar vein: ‘Out of my dreams’ from Oklahoma and Max Steiner’s ‘My own true love’ that became and remains a favourite after appearing in Gone with the Wind.

Hannah Catrin Jones opened her own contributions with Vaughan Williams’s setting of D G Rossetti’s ‘Silent Noon’ from his song cycle The House of Life. She at once displayed an attractive voice, confidently, though the acoustic again made her words a bit indistinct and a mishap with a page of music would have unsettled her.

In a charming, unaffected way Hannah sang At Dawning (‘I love you’), a song by Charles Cadman that became famous in the 1920s; Cadman’s early reputation derived from his interest in and promotion of American Indian music. And later, reflecting her Welsh ancestry, Hannah sang Joseph Parry’s ‘Myfanwy’, with her father Conrad McDonnell accompanying on the guitar: well done. All the other songs were sympathetically accompanied by David Trott at the piano.

After her Mozart and Schubert songs Lydia McDonnell’s later songs included Andrew Lloyd Webber’s ‘Love changes everything’, the best known number from his musical Aspects of Love, a sort of narrative song that she handled rather nicely. And then unaccompanied she sang with touching conviction her last solo – the traditional Irish song ‘My Lagan Love’ dating from the time of harsh English repression.

Together, the three gave the audience an agreeable, rather different experience, with the three voices blending interestingly: ‘Love can build a bridge’, a somewhat sentimental country ballad that had its hour of fame in the early 90s; then ‘Cockles and Mussels’ and finally ‘Pokarekare Ana’, which brought a well-planned and charmingly executed recital to an appropriate end.

Concours de la Chanson: second year of splendid initiative

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

French singing competition

Songs by Angelillo et Hamel, Satie, Brel, Berlioz, Duparc, Debussy, Poulenc, Fauré, Delibes

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

Sunday, 3 July 2011, 8pm

The commitment of the Alliance Française Wellington to providing a competition for singers continues; the first competition last year gave a platform for some splendid singing of French chanson and mélodie, and Sunday night’s final continued that.

There were fewer finalists in the Chanson Moderne section this year than last year, and of the four, two chose to sings songs by Jacques Brel.

First, we heard Estere Dalton sing Je veux te dire une chanson, by Angelillo et Hamel. Dalton is a confident singer who used a microphone, and was accompanied by Andrew Bruce on the piano. She sang with an Edith Piaf-type voice and delivery. The song included unusual tonalities, nevertheless I thought her intonation suspect at times. My searches on the internet have failed to uncover whether this is one composer or two, however I did discover that the first name is spelt as above, and not as on the printed programme.

Erik Satie’s cabaret song La diva de l’Empire was sung by Angelique McDonald, accompanied by Jonathan Berkahn on piano, but without microphone. This was an attractive voice, but projection was uneven between lower and upper registers. Some gesture was used, but as with the previous singer, it did not appear to have much point.

Daniela-Rosa Young (who, for the second year running, suffered incorrect printing of her name in the first half of the programme), sang Jacques Brel’s Ne me quitte pas most effectively. Her close use of the microphone was just right for this music. She had the style for this song, and created the atmosphere of French nostalgia and regret (despite the title of Edith Piaf’s famous song) right from the beginning. Her words were very good, and she used them, her breath and her face as part of the expression of the music. Sometimes she was sotto voce, at others full voice. A good voice it was, and she was given a very sympathetic accompaniment by Julie Coulson.

The last singer in this section was Kieran Rayner, now quite an experienced singer in a variety of styles. Jacques Brel was his composer of choice also, with the song Amsterdam. He was accompanied on the piano accordion by Jonathan Berkahn, to give that authentic Paris sound. However, either Berkahn was too quiet, or Rayner (with microphone) was too loud; certainly the balance was not right. Some gesture, stamping in time and a beautiful unaccompanied introductory passage all helped to give atmosphere, as did the singer’s spoken introduction to the piece, which was a confident communication compared with those of some of the other singers. I found it a little tiring to be harangued at the volume Rayner chose, but there was no doubt about his commitment to the song.

After a short interval, we heard the classical items. These were French mélodie written in the nineteenth century or since. All were attractive songs, some familiar and some not, but all worth hearing.

The only singer in the finals of both sections was Daniela-Rosa Young, who sang Berlioz’s L’Île Inconnue. While her announcement was a little too quiet, her fine voice was well-produced, and her French enunciation and pronunciation were good. Gestures were rather meaningless, but she did put the meaning into the music and the words to an extent. Julie Coulson was her excellent accompanist, and to all the other singers except one.

Isabella Moore sang the gorgeous L’invitation au voyage by Henri Duparc. It was pleasing to hear her include in her introduction the name of the poet: Baudelaire, and an explanation of the meaning of the poem. Her voice is smooth and she gave good delivery of the words, but there was not enough variation in dynamics in her performance. Although she explained that the word ‘luxury’ featured in the poem, her voice did not convey that feeling when it came.

Bianca Andrew, who was the winner of the chanson section last year, performed De Soir, the fourth song in Debussy’s Proses Lyrique; the composer wrote the poem. Andrew gave a confident, fluent, indeed enthusiastic introduction which sounded spontaneous. She used both words and music well to characterise the meaning of the song. Some meaningful head movements conveyed more than vague hand gestures would have. There was good variety of tone; this was an excellent performance, including Julie Coulson’s playing of a very busy accompaniment.

Mon cadavre est doux comme un gant (My cadaver is as soft as a glove) sounds a pretty macabre title – but then, Poulenc was given to irony and wit. Imogen Thirlwall’s rich, mature voice, after a good spoken introduction, led us into the song, which she invested with meaning. This was a consummate performance.

Next was Bridget Costello with C, a 1943 song setting a poem by Aragon. After a rather formal introduction. which was nevertheless done well, Costello revealed a strong voice with quite a lot of natural vibrato. This was not a particularly demanding song, but it was well sung.

Thomas Atkins followed, with Adieu by Fauré. After a good introduction, Atkins sang most appealingly. He has a lovely voice, and varied it more than did some of the other contestants, doing something with every note and syllable. His French was admirable, but the song was rather a short one.

A song by Delibes followed: Les filles de Cadix, sung by Rose Blake. This was a saucy song. Rose Blake put over both her humorous introduction and the song in a confident, self-possessed manner accompanied by Claire ? Her lively rendition incorporated quite a lot of gesture (meaningful this time). Blake had a pleasing tone; her voice was strong and well produced. The whole was performed with considerable aplomb.

The last performer was Fredi Jones, who sang Fauré’s charming Aprés un Rêve. Following a very good introduction, his singing demonstrated a very effective use of the language, and a light voice, reminiscent of the late great Gérard Souzay. Although he started very well, I felt that further on he could have varied the voice a little more, and lingered more over the ornaments in the melody; they seemed rushed.

There was a good selection of songs from a cross-section of composers. All the songs presented some difficulties. All the contestants had a good command of French pronunciation, and put the words over well.

The prizes offered were the same for each category, i.e. a first, a second and a third prize in each. The first prizes were $2000, plus a master-class at the Conservatoire Musique de Nouvelle Calédonie; second, $500 and one term of free French lessons at the Alliance Française; third, $250 and one term of free lessons at the Alliance. There were a number of sponsors for the Concours, including the French Embassy; the Ambassador spoke briefly at the prize-giving part of the evening.

Judges were experienced New Zealand singer Catherine Pierard, and M. Bruno Zanchetta, Deputy Director of the Conservatoire de Musique de Nouvelle-Calédonie, whose first words were to praise the excellence of Julie Coulson as accompanist.

The placings were: Chanson: 1st Kieran Rayner, 2nd Daniela-Rosa Young, 3rd Estere Dalton; Mélodie: 1st Bianca Andrew, 2nd Rose Blake, 3rd Fredi Jones.

Medlyn and Greager Liederabend at St Andrew’s

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Liederabend: A recital of Schubert, Wolf and Strauss

Margaret Medlyn and Richard Greager, accompanied by Bruce Greenfield

Hunter Council Chamber, Victoria University

Thursday, 23 June 2011, 7.30pm

An enthusiastic and appreciative, though not large, audience greeted these three very experienced and accomplished musicians.  It was a treat to have a substantial lieder recital like this – and only a day after senior students of the New Zealand School of Music performed lieder at St. Andrew’s on The Terrace.

The programme began with Richard Greager and Bruce Greenfield performing six of Schubert’s songs: some well-known, such as the opening An Sylvia and others less familiar.

In the carpeted Hunter Council Chamber, and with such experienced performers, the piano could be played with the lid on the long stick, in contrast to the different situation at St. Andrew’s on The
Terrace the previous day.

Greager sang An Sylvia apparently effortlessly, in most a musical performance, though perhaps lacking a little subtlety in this German translation of Shakespeare’s incomparable words.

The next song, Lied eines Schiffers an die Dioskuren (Boatman’s song to the Dioscuri) featured the lovely darker colours of Richard Greager’s lower notes, while Greenfield brought out much in the marvellous accompaniment.  It was interesting that this and three others of the six songs featured water, a point of comment in regarding the Schubert , the previous day.

Im Frühling sounded a little prosaic – as if the singer had seen many springs.  In contrast, I found latter part of the performance a little too operatic at times for an innocent song such as this.  Nevertheless, Greager demonstrated amply how to use words as part of the musical expression, yet not interfere with the flow of the music.

Fischerweise (Fisherman’s ditty) had both performers (Greager and Greenfield) giving a thorough exposition of the words, as set by Schubert, of another watery song – in subject, not in presentation.

Auf Der Bruck (At Bruck), being about a ride on a horse, naturally had the clip-clop of horses’ hooves in the accompaniment.  It was a strong and vigorous interpretation of this demanding song, from both musicians, who reached a considerable volume, compared with some of the more contemplative songs, such as the final Schubert one, Der Jüngling an der Quelle (The youth by the spring).  This was a real contrast.  Although the tenor’s voice is perhaps not what it was, the song was performed with real artistry.  The accompaniment, as elsewhere, was very descriptive and quite beautiful, though apparently simple.

After the break we moved to Hugo Wolf’s settings of Eduard Mörike’s poems.  Wolf was far from being the only composer to set his perceptive and sensitive poetry. The music entailed a considerable change of character from that of Schubert.  Expressiveness poured from every syllable of Margaret Medlyn’s performance of Der Genesene an die Hoffunung (A convalescent’s address to hope). The clarity of the piano part was particularly notable.  Medlyn employs more facial expression and gesture than does Greager, and it seemed to me that this did not suit the songs well, nor did these songs suit her as well as did the later Strauss lieder. Richard Greager sang the following
Auf eine Wanderung (On a walk) with great liveliness.  The modulations in the piano part were largely responsible for making this a very varied song.  It was a wonderful, accompaniment,
walking quickly along with the singer; both introduced a variety of different colours.

The words of Gesang Weylas (Weyla’s song) spoke of radiance. Medlyn’s voice summoned that radiance as much as the arpeggio accompaniment did. Greager sang Der Tambour (The drummer boy); a highly wrought song that made me wonder if Wolf did not rather over-modulate, creating a fevered effect.  Greager sang the words so meaningfully that the audience was drawn in – a sign perhaps of his long experience as an opera singer.  He continued with Gebet (Prayer), which created a wonderful atmosphere through its solemnity, stillness, and four-part harmonies.

Margaret Medlyn returned with An den Schlaf (To sleep), in which the accompaniment pointed up the ambiguity of the words about sleep, dying and living.  She followed this with Elfenlied (Elf song), which featured rapid elfin-like steps in the piano part, requiring a lot of rapid finger-work.  Medlyn made the humour of the song very clear: the elf’s foolish mistakes because he had not had enough sleep.

Richard Greager’s Neue liebe (New love) in its contemplation of a relationship with God, I found rather too loud in the relatively small auditorium.

A very dramatic presentation by Margaret Medlyn of Erstes Liebeslied eines Mädchens (A girl’s first love song) seemed rather too biting for a first love song; I thought it should have been rather more innocent.  Granted, it had a startling accompaniment. Questioning innocence in both the
accompaniment and in Richard Greager’s eyes featured in Peregrina I, while in Peregrina II, there was the same questing figure in the dreamy accompaniment.  The singer used his breath as an expressive device to good effect.

The final song, Im Frühling (In the Spring) had an interesting piano part, easily as important as the voice’s music.  Medlyn was in great vocal form, the subtlety of her singing matching the
subtlety of the words and music.

Now for something completely different: Richard Strauss songs, all sung by Margaret Medlyn.  As her programme note pointed out, the piano parts seemed to be ‘conceived with an orchestral palette in mind.’  Who better than Bruce Greenfield, accustomed over many years to playing orchestral reductions of operas, to be the accompanist? Befreit (Release) had the singer carry the lines forward most beautifully.  The third verse, about being freed from sorrow at the death of the spouse, was very emotional, and very well sung.  The next was a more straightforward song: Gefunden (Found).  Like the other Strauss songs, this suited Medlyn.  This one gave lovely opportunity for her to journey through her vocal range.

In Blindenklage (Blind man’s lament) a dramatic song, I found Medlyn’s acting out the drama with gesture a little hard to watch; I would have preferred less gesture.  Greenfield displayed masterful playing of these difficult Strauss scores.

Mit deinen blauen Augen (With your blue eyes) was sung quite beautifully, and was a welcome pause between the two highly dramatic and fervent songs around it.  It was much simpler melodically and in the piano part, but quite delightful.  As elsewhere, Medlyn sang with emotional generosity.

Finally, we had Frühlinsfeier (Spring celebration).   The conflicting emotions portrayed were emphasised with switches between major and minor tonalities.  This made for complicated music, and operatic-style anguish.  The final sensational lines on the death of Adonis was an appropriate point of finality at which to end the recital.

This was a beautifully put-together programme of contrasting composers’ settings of fine poetry.  The singers used the printed scores for the most part.  But this in no way inhibited their fine performances.  The printed programmes contained translations of all the songs – and it was good to see the translators credited as well as the poets. 

The singers had also provided interesting notes about each of the three composers and their songs.  Illustrations comprised portraits of the three composers, and two apt paintings by Caspar Friedrich (1774-1840).  The recital represented  a tour de force on the part of accompanist par excellence, Bruce Greenfield.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Talented students in wonderful Lieder recital

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Lunchtime Lieder : a concert of German Romantic songs by Mendelssohn, Schubert, Brahms

Bridget Costello and Amelia Ryman (sopranos), Kieran Rayner and Thomas Barker (baritones), Martin Ryman (piano)

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday, 22 June 2011, 12.15pm

With an interesting programme, this concert had added appeal for the opportunity to hear and see students from the New Zealand School of Music performing lieder.

So much the better that the singers were accompanied by an accompanist marked by sensitive and musical playing; the piano lid being on the short stick seemed just right when the accompanying was in the hands of Martin Ryman.

A first impression from the opening Mendelssohn duet, ‘Gruss’, sung by the two women, was the good projection of the voices and the excellent German words. I have an old and treasured, recording of Victoria de los Angeles and Elisabeth Schwarzkopf singing this duet with Gerald Moore accompanying. It would be hard to say that these young women were inferior!

The men sang ‘Wasserfahrt’ by the same composer as their duet. This introduced the subject of water, which was the theme of about half the songs on the programme. Rayner and Barker both have robust, well-produced voices. They made both these songs really alive.

We then turned to Schubert, beginning with the well-known ’Wohin?’ (surely ‘Whither?’ is a more poetic, if slightly archaic, translation than ‘Where to?’?). Kieran Rayner’s excellent diction and projection were complemented by lovely dynamic shading. A couple of times he sang a tiny bit sharp, but overall it was a great performance; he could teach some more experienced singers about enunciation.

I was pleased to find such an emphasis on getting the words over, and providing the meaning to the audience from very good programme notes, written by the performers. Some lieder singers (and audiences) think it’s all about music and melody, whereas lieder is a marriage between poetry and music. The music conveys the meaning of the words; it is not there just to make a lovely sound. Hence my dislike of being plunged into the dark, or semi-dark at some concerts, so that the words or the programme notes cannot be read. It would have been great to have had the words printed in full, but good programme notes are the next best thing.

‘Am Feierabend’ (not ‘Fierabend’ as in the programme) was Rayner’s next song. He characterised well the young apprentice lad, and then changed his tone and mode of delivery to be the master miller, most effectively.

Amelia Ryman sang ‘Im Frühling’ very feelingly. She has a clear voice and varies her expressiveness appropriately.

Thomas Barker followed with ‘Der Schiffer’ (The Boatn’), with great vigour. This was the only song where the performer had to rely to some extent on the printed music. Martin Ryman brought out the busy accompaniment superbly, as elsewhere.

Bridget Costello returned to sing the beautiful ‘Auf dem Wasser zu singen’. This was not quite so satisfactory. The note couplets were frequently rushed, and not made distinct as in the accompaniment. It’s great to get the consonants over clearly, but they should not cut up the legato of a song as they did here.

‘Am bach im Frühling’ was given very characterful singing by Thomas Barker, and his German pronunciation was excellent. Consonants were given their place, but they were not overdone.

The singers took a break while Martin Ryman played Brahms’s Intermezzo Op.118 no.2. It was delightful to hear one of these shorter piano pieces – and one of such charm; piano recitals tend to be made up of more substantial works.

Now we were in Brahms territory, and Bridget Costello was next up, to sing his Lament ‘Ach mir fehlt’. Consonants were not a problem this time. Some movement of the arms and legs seemed unnecessary to me (I known there are more than one school of thought about this semi-acting of lieder.) Altogether, the song was tellingly performed.

Now for a really humorous song, which could take its little bit of acting from Amelia Ryman: ‘Vergebliches Ständchen’, translated here as ‘The vain suit’. Nevertheless, most of the meaning and characterisation came through the voice. There was occasional variability of intonation, but it was slight, and the voice itself was very secure.

The concert ended with a quartet by Schubert: ‘Der Tanz’. It was a vigorous finale to a wonderful programme.

The voice students of the New Zealand School of Music seem to get better and better each year. They obviously have talent and work hard, and show what first-class teaching they receive.

The good attendance demonstrates that audiences want to hear lieder – many of the people were not St. Andrew’s ‘regulars’. Let’s have more!

Elixir of soprano, clarinet and piano

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Music by Dankworth, Spohr, Bartók, Vaughan Williams, Britten, Schubert, Liszt, Bliss, John McCabe, and Estonian Songs

Elixir: Kate Lineham (soprano), Rachel Thomson (piano), Moira Hurst (clarinet)

Sacred Heart Cathedral, Hill Street

Sunday 29 May 2011, 3pm

Despite the beautifully calm, sunny day, and the lack of advertising on Radio New Zealand concert earlier in the day, a good-sized audience came to hear this rather unusual ensemble perform a novel and varied programme.

However, the opening item was not a good start. The song ‘Thieving Boy’ sat too low in the voice for Kate Lineham. The lower notes did not come over to the audience in this venue.

That very morning I heard William Dart on Radio New Zealand Concert in his talk on Reynaldo Hahn, quote someone saying that classical singers should go to cabaret to learn how to deliver words. Lineham’s words when heard, were very clear.

However, much of the time, as elsewhere in the programme, the clarinet was too loud, and it was a struggle to hear the voice because of it. For the second half of the programme, I removed to the cushion-less rear of the church, and found the sound and the balance much better. I have traditionally sat in this position at Sacred Heart, for enhanced seeing and hearing, but of late have been seduced by the beautiful new seat cushions. Sunday’s experience taught me that beauty is to be preferred over comfort – even if I could not now always hear the informal spoken introductions, which were sometimes far too long and discursive, and at times repeated what was in the programme notes.

Things picked up with the gorgeous Spohr songs. We do not hear enough of this composer who, although he lived longer, was a contemporary of Beethoven, and famous in his time. Presumably the clarinet of his day was a quieter instrument than today’s model; likewise the piano. Perhaps the latter’s lid could have been on the short stick rather than fully open. The acoustic of the church is very lively, but tends to amplify the instruments more than the voice. Nevertheless, the four songs from the composer’s Six German Songs were beautifully sung, but at times it seemed like an unsuccessful fight with the instruments.

The voice needs to be the pre-eminent part, because it is delivering the words and thus the meaning of the songs, and the basis for their interpretation. There were excellent programme notes, but it would have been an added bonus to have had the full texts of the poems.

The Three Hungarian Folk Songs from Csík were in fact piano pieces based on folk songs collected by the composer. These were delightful short pieces, played with taste and subtlety. In the third, Poco vivo, there was a loud section; which again, reverberated rather too much in this building.

Next up were Three Vocalises by Vaughan Williams, composed in the last year of his life. It is interesting to consider how to perform songs with no words, as Moira Hurst said in her introduction – what is being expressed? There was magnificent interweaving between voice and clarinet; the composition of these pieces was deft indeed. As with the Spohr, these were pieces I had not heard before, yet were well worth hearing. The balance seemed better in these items – and one was not having to try to hear words.

The final of the three, ‘Quasi menuetto’, contained bird-like passages; perhaps not unexpected from the composer of The Lark Ascending.

Britten’s Four Cabaret Songs to words by W.H. Auden I had heard before, a number of times. While it is only fair to point out that the other singers I have heard perform them live were older and more experienced, I did feel that though the songs are brilliant and the singing was lovely, with great facial characterisation, the je ne sais quoi of cabaret was missing. The venues of the former hearings may have been a little (but not much) more conducive to that atmosphere.

The well-known ‘Tell me the truth about love’ earned its own applause which was then provided for each song in the group), though I found it over-pedalled in the piano part; the piano should surely echo the sparkle of the voice.

I felt ‘Johnny’ needed even more vocal contrast between the excited and the doleful verses, not only a dynamic contrast. This factor improved as the song went along – perhaps that was deliberate, to gradually change and deepen the realisation that Johnny was not going to stay around. Lineham has a pretty voice, but it is not especially powerful, except at the top. Again, words were very clear – but is this voice really right for cabaret songs?

The accompaniments were beautifully handled. Since the clarinet was not involved, Moira Hurst revealed the variety of her wind instrument accomplishments by playing a whistle, acting as the station-master at the conclusion the last song, Calypso, which uses train noises. She dashed through the audience while blowing, wearing an appropriate peaked cap.

After interval, we were treated to what is probably the most famous song for this combination, Schubert’s lovely Der Hirt auf dem Felsen (The Shepherd on the Rock). The balance and ensemble seemed to be a lot better – or was it because of my new position towards the rear of the church? A few small intonation wobbles couldn’t detract from a very accomplished rendition of this extended song with its ravishing melodies for both singer and clarinet.

Liszt’s Petrarch sonnet no. 123 is a very contemplative piano piece, yet has a passionate middle section, and was played with feeling; the pianissimo ending was exquisite. Again, there was too much pedal for my taste, but otherwise the work was attractively played. The programme note told us that ‘…[the] poetry is essential to understanding the music’, so why was the sonnet not printed for the audience’s added understanding?

Sir Arthur Bliss was represented by Two Nursery Rhymes, settings of ‘The Ragwort’ and ‘The Dandelion’ by Frances Cornford. Featuring quirky clarinet and piano writing, these were fun. Apparently the clarinet was being a seagull in the first song, and, more obviously, a donkey in the second. These songs suited Lineham’s voice and style very well.

A group of Estonian songs were preceded by the story of how the trio obtained these songs; a piece of real New Zealand networking and ‘who knows whom’. They proved to be very pleasing songs, though again, the lower register of the voice employed in the first song could not be heard well. The second, The Singer’s Childhood began with a very lovely unaccompanied first verse; then the clarinet joined in. It was an attractive song, the singer expressing its nostalgia feelingly.

The final song, Shepherd’s Song, with piano and clarinet, was brief and touching.

The programme ended with Three Folk Songs by John McCabe. These were settings of traditional songs: ‘Johnny has gone for a soldier’, ‘Hush-a-ba birdie’ and ‘John Peel’. All three perfomed well in these attractive songs, that gave both clarinet and voice plenty of melody, with lively, even humorous writing.

For an encore, the trio performed very effectively Stephen Sondheim’s well-known ‘Send in the Clowns’, but again the low pitch of the opening mitigated against a thoroughly satisfying performance from the singer, though the instruments gave a fine rendition.

I was a little surprised that the singer used the sheet music for all her items (as did the pianist for her solos) even following an extensive tour for Chamber Music New Zealand, during which, presumably, much the same music was performed; communication between singer and audience was good, but would have been even better without that barrier between.

Nevertheless, this concert gave its audience an interesting programme of pleasing and mainly unfamiliar songs, and demonstrated that here we have three very competent musicians.

NZSQ and Wollerman reveal beauties in Schoenberg, and others

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

New Zealand String Quartet and Jenny Wollerman (soprano)

Beethoven: String Quartet in A, Op 18 No 5; Schoenberg: String Quartet No 2 in F sharp minor, Op 10; Smetana: String Quartet No 1 in E minor ‘From my life’

Wellington Town Hall

Tuesday 3 May 7.30pm

I suspect that few musical performances in Wellington have done as much, as quickly, as this to overturn long-held attitudes about a composer. Often without really putting it to the test, many ordinary music lovers have accepted that, apart from Verklärte Nacht, Schoenberg’s music was and has remained cacophonous and unlistenable. The composer himself complained quite early that the problem was poor performance: nothing difficult about his music!

All that was needed then was the phantom arrival of a New Zealand String Quartet and a Jenny Wollerman to illuminate what Schoenberg had created; for no one I spoke to at the interval did not exclaim at the transformational performance by both string quartet and soprano.

Even though for perhaps many, this might have been a first hearing, and the splintered character of the lyricism and the unpredictability of the music from minute to minute and still surprise, there was an unmistakable feeling that real music was present, of beauty and natural human impulse.

If this concert had been heard through radio or recording, it might not have had the effect it did, for the impact of watching these players, so profoundly engrossed and so whole-heartedly enraptured in their performance, was a most persuasive aspect. One felt as if each player relished opportunities to sing, to prove that they were playing genuine music, not some intellectual contrivance, even though the shapes of the songs were unusual. The first movement is simply a restless, soulful meditation of great beauty; the mood overall not very different from the nocturnal strangeness of Verklärte Nacht. After moving passages from first violin, then viola, Rolf Gjelsten seemed transported as he played cello phrases that expressed alternating grief and resolve.

The second movement changes the mood entirely, skittering violin over abrupt cello notes, with its use of the German folk song ‘Ach, du lieber Augustin’, mocked and tortured. Perhaps it was the only way for the composer to handle the traumatic loss of his wife to his painting teacher, though we must not imagine the music to be any kind of direct account of that. The playing was remarkable in its quixotic, kaleidoscopic impulsiveness, and the notes of the song are broken, dissected. Another frenzied passage closed the movement,

What disconcerted its first Viennese audiences lay in the next two movements – the arrival of a soprano to sing two poems – how outrageous for a voice to invade the sacred world of chamber music! It’s a setting of Stefan George, a poet who is compared to the French Parnassiens and symbolists. (One noticed that the programme notes observed the poet’s Cummings-like capital letters fetish in the German texts: nouns not capitalized).

The first, Litanei, with lines like “… Grant some peace to my faltering steps … extinguish all hope, send out [better perhaps, ‘dispatch’] your light …Kill the longing, close the wounds…”. Jenny Wollerman’s voice proved a quite exquisite vehicle for the poem and its music taxing a voice with its fragments of melody that are determined to give no comfort; projected strongly, accurately, with emotional intensity. Though the score was before her, she appeared to have every word and every note utterly secure.

The last movement used the poem Entrückung (approximately ‘rapture’) and it expressed that, in the uneasy quiet of the opening, depending heavily on the cello, curling and twisting in preparation for the voice’s entry. In the movement’s ten minutes or so, there was time for the listener to begin to find melody in the spectral cirrus, and with the compelling performances by all five, we were left with a sense of music of the greatest beauty.

Though I’ve paid much attention to the Schoenberg, the other pieces were played with no less power, subtlety, and beauty of tone and expression.

The happiest of Beethoven’s first published set of quartets opened with an almost droll, whimsical air, an ethereal dance, set among scintillating flashes from Helene Pohl’s brilliant violin, all brought to its senses with some sombre phrases from the cello. The Menuetto was a particularly sensuous Viennese affair, its swaying rhythm set charmingly against the warm romantic tune of the Trio. The Andante cantabile with its variations and sometimes fugal passages found Beethoven and the players in a jovial mood, smiles flickering across their faces, responding to comic effects. The movement ends with a sudden subsiding to a minor tonality that stilled the audience utterly – apart from a solitary cough – in the pause before the Finale.

The Schoenberg was followed by Smetana’s autobiographical piece: a life that allowed much variety, Gillian Ansell’s viola played a significant role at many points, passionate and rich in the opening movement. She underpinned the dance in the second, along with particular rhythmic energy from Beilman’s violin; they relished the almost saccharine sentiment of the third movement, without embarrassment.

There was a somewhat smaller audience than usual at this very fine concert. Are our chamber music audiences still subject to the blinkered attitudes that Schoenberg faced in Vienna a century ago?

Voice students of NZSM in excellent recital at St Andrew’s

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

New Zealand School of Music – Voice students, accompanied by Mark Dorrell

Emily Simcox, Angelique Macdonald, Simon Harnden, Isabella Moore, Thomas Barker, Amelia Ryman, Thomas O’Brien

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday 6 April, 12.15pm

Second and third year voice students at the New Zealand School of Music, tutored by Richard Greager, Margaret Medlyn, Jenny Wollerman and Emily Mair, gave a varied and excellent demonstration of both their own talents and the quality of their teaching.

The recital was interestingly planned, starting with four arias from Mozart operas. The first two were from The Marriage of Figaro: Emily Simcox opened with ‘Voi che sapete’, an attractive, guileless performance, her voice displaying quite a ring, and a polished legato style; another soubrette role from Figaro – Barbarina’s ‘L’ho perduta, me meschina’, quite short but quite charming.

Bass Simon Harnden sang Sarastro’s aria, ‘O Isis und Osiris’. He has a naturally attractive low voice though at this stage his voice seems invested with little colour and his German pronunciation was iffy.

Then Isabella Moore finished the Mozart group with Fiordiligi’s ‘Come scoglio’ from Così fan tutte; she too will learn how to colour her singing more interestingly, but her strong voice projected well, her breath control was good and she handled the large intervals skillfully.

Then came two arias that show how interest in exploring neglected areas of the opera repertoire has grown in recent years; arias from Ambroise Thomas’s best-known operas, Hamlet and Mignon, were chosen by the next two singers. Thomas Barker, baritone, sang Hamlet’s (non-Shakespearean) apostrophe to wine, ‘O vin, dissipe la tristesse’, offering appropriate gestures, and singing with an attractive swagger. From Mignon, Emily Simcox sang the gavotte (which used to be found in most piano albums) that Thomas wrote when a contralto sang Frédéric as a trouser role: ‘Me voici dans son boudoir’. Speaking of which, Mark Dorrell’s piano accompaniments, in this, and throughout, were admirable in their lively and dramatic support.

The programme then passed to the next generation of French opera composers – to Massenet. Amelia Ryman, as Manon, sang quite movingly the sentimental farewell to the little table where she and Des Grieux have lived; we are beguiled by her charming fickleness.

A less familiar opera is Hérodiade – the story of Salome, though her aria ‘Il est doux, il est bon’ is familiar. It depicts Salome very differently from the Oscar Wilde-Strauss version of 25 years later: something approaching love between John the Baptist and Salome who tries to intercede and even seeks to be killed alongside John. Isabella Moore used her strong, sometimes rather too big, voice to great effect.

Thomas O’Brien’s voice is soft and he sang Fauré’s ‘Après un rêve’ with nicely controlled dynamics and expressive gestures.

There followed two German pieces: Angelique Macdonald returned to sing what is known as Marietta’s Lied from Korngold’s Die tote Stadt, with a voice of considerable delicacy and tonal purity. And Thomas Barker capped his fine performance of the Hamlet aria with the song to the Evening Star from Tannhäuser ; his tone is even, he knows how to control it without pushing to gain louder of higher notes. One of Elgar’s Sea Pictures was chosen by Emily Simcox – ‘In Haven’ – a moment of calm in the otherwise restless cycle; she captured it well with phrasing that was flowing and legato.

Three English songs, by Thomas Quilter, ended the programme. Amelia Ryman who had sung the Manon aria with such clarity, brought that care with diction to ‘Come away Death’ from Twelfth Night; Thomas O’Brien sang ‘Go, lovely Rose’ and then Shelley’s ‘Love’s Philosophy’; the first, restrained, delicate if not very strong, the second evincing the same sweetness of tone, and more liveliness.

The recital was not interrupted by singers’ commentaries on their pieces (each singer had written short notes in the programme) or pauses between each performance, and so audience interest was maintained very well; it was one of the most enjoyable student voice recitals I’ve heard in a long time.

Aivale Cole with splendid Lieder for the St Andrew’s series

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Schumann: Frauenliebe und -leben
Duparc: L’Invitation au voyage, Chanson
Triste Tosti: Quattro Canzoni d’Amaranta
John Carter: Cantata

Aivale Cole, soprano, Sharolyn Kimmorley, piano

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

Saturday, 12 March 2011, 7.30pm

It was delightful to hear Aivale Cole singing lieder and other songs, but it was a great pity that so few thought so. Insufficient advertising may be partly to blame, since I have discovered that several people I thought would be interested in these artists and the programme were unaware of the performance. Certainly the Schumann song cycle was heard recently, sung by Joanna Heslop, at the National Portrait Gallery, but such a wonderful sequence of songs is worth hearing again, especially when sung by a singer with such a different style of voice.

I regretted the advertised Debussy and Hahn songs were no longer on the programme. Duparc was certainly an ample substitute.

One of the great things about this recital was that there were brief programme notes, and all the words were printed (including the words of a verse in the sixth song that Schumann did not set – he may have felt too embarrassed to set words about pregnancy that translate as ‘About the signs I have already asked Mother; my good mother has told me everything… she has assured me that by all appearances, soon a cradle will be needed.’)

Again, we had a superb accompanist who produced no clatter from the St. Andrew’s platform floor.

Aivale Cole’s voice and presentation were warm and lovely, with beautiful nuances. Early on, breathing was a little noisy at times, but this was overcome. She produced an exemplary precision with words, and lots of expression, but neither detracted from the flow or the tone. Consonants fitted in their place, but were never over-emphasised. She was never too hurried; always the words and mood came across without fuss. Cole used the scores for most of the music, except the Carter, but was never tied to them.

The performers were thoroughly rhythmic; the rhythm was not too strict, but always illuminated Schumann’s gorgeous music and the poet’s romantic words.

The beautiful piano postlude to the work was played in a restrained manner, more quietly than usual, portraying perhaps the resignation of the protagonist following the death of her husband – conveying the final words ‘I withdraw silently into myself, the veil falls, there I have thee and my lost happiness, O thou my world!’

It was a delight to hear two of Duparc’s incomparable songs. These were beautifully sung, but not quite as expressively as I have heard them. In the first, ‘L’invitation au voyage’ there was not the sense of delighted surprise that is represented in the words. Cole’s French pronunciation was as good as her German.

In the languorous ‘Chanson Triste’, the singer caressed the sensuous words beautifully (though ‘genoux’ did not come out quite right). I could happily have listened to more Duparc, or Fauré, or Debussy, but we turned now to Italian, and Tosti.

The four songs were new to me. Aivale Cole’s thrilling tone and delivery made them very effective, if sentimental. I found the postlude to the songs a little over-pedalled, especially through the rests, for my taste, as indeed was the Schumann postlude. Sharolyn Kimmorley is a very still pianist, and turns all the pages herself.

John Carter’s cantata brings together four Negro spirituals: “Peter, Go ring o’ dem bells”, “Sometimes I feel like a motherless child”, “Let us break bread together”, “Ride on King Jesus”. These settings were very lively, and set in different ways. The first was imaginative, but contained a lot of repetition. There was a magical sustained top note. The second was set, and sung, with much feeling, while the fourth was very jazzy with a very fast and complicated accompaniment. It made for a dramatic ending to the recital, in English, the fourth language to be used.

The range of the programme was good, and the execution superb.

My friend and I left the church well satisfied. What was our surprise to hear someone calling ‘Excuse me!’, and to find running after us along the footpath Aivale Cole (in mufti now), who thanked us for attending, and said she wanted to speak to everyone! She told us that she is off to London next month. We wished her the very best for this venture, and hope that she will get the opportunities she so richly deserves in what is now a difficult economic environment, with opera houses closing, contracts not being fulfilled, and fees dropping rather than increasing.

Go well, Aivale!