Author Archives: flutietoot

Legends by the Sea: Ashkenazy conducts Sibelius – Sydney Symphony Orchestra

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Friday 8th February

Vladimir Ashkenazy certainly knows how to choose ambitious and epic programs. The 2013 season opening, this concert focused almost exclusively on the orchestra, with only a small appearance by soprano Jacqueline Porter in Fauré’s Pelléas et Mélisande Suite rather than a full concerto. With the three works all hailing from the turn of the twentieth century, and all in some way programmatic, the focus of this performance was without a doubt the colour and variety of a modern orchestra.

The Lemminkäinen Suite, an early set of four tone poems by Finnish composer Jean Sibelius, is not often heard in full, with the lyrical Swan of Tuonela more often appearing alone. Here, the Swan poem was played second in the suite, though some conductors choose to start with it, as the musical material was originally drawn from the overture of an abandoned opera The Building of the Boat. This was very much a dramatic focus point of the performance, both for musical intention and execution. Cor anglais player Alexandre Oguey was lyrical and pensive, giving a feel of effortlessness and yet ever so slight yearning to the musical line. The other three poems – Lemminkäinen and the Maidens of Saari, Lemminkäinen in Tuonela and Lemminkäinen Returns – are trickier to digest thematically. Ashkenazy’s conducting showed that he had a clear direction for the music, but it didn’t always sound that way, and I’m inclined to feel that it is rather the musical material that feels somewhat disjointed. To be sure, there are moments of thrilling splendor; the rustic dance towards the end of the Maidens of Saari and the climax of Lemminkäinen Returns among them. But there were other points where musical cohesion was somewhat lacking and the whole thing felt rather muddy. Despite this, the orchestra played with energy and conviction. It was only a pity that the woodwinds (especially flute and piccolos) were for the most part lost in the texture, even at points of melodic importance. While the low strings’ start to Lemminkäinen in Tuonela was perhaps somewhat under-articulated, it nevertheless encapsulated the poem’s brooding atmosphere.

Gabriel Fauré’s Suite from Pelléas et Mélisande, by contrast, is strongly thematic without having to shout about it. Written in 1898 for the English production of Maurice Materlinck’s play, the five-movement suite calls for a soprano (Jacqueline Porter) for the penultimate movement Mélisande’s Song. Though the woodwinds remained on the quiet side, Ashkenazy’s exploration of colour here was stunning. The outer movements – somewhat weightier in scale – were well crafted, with sensitive interweaving of string lines. By far the most well known movement – the Sicilienne – was thoughtful and not too heavy, though principal flute Janet Webb could perhaps have varied her dark tone a little to explore the more playful side of the music. Jacqueline Porter’s singing was rich and expressive, capturing the folk-legend feel of this movement despite its brevity.

The choice to place Debussy’s La Mer at the end of this program (the Lemminkäinen Suite was originally destined for the ‘symphonic’ spot) was certainly a good one. Ashkenazy is totally at home in this music and the patchwork of colour it presents. Here, the three sketches made a wonderfully cohesive whole, with the orchestra tossing themes back and forth with seeming ease. This piece is very much about the idea of the sea rather than portraying any specific program, and it is clear that Ashkenazy felt the same way, striving for melody in its purest sense. The middle movement, Jeux de vagues (Play of Waves) was particularly impressive, with the interlocking rhythms coming together to give the performance a sense of gay abandon bordering with just the slightest touch of frivolity.

The Orchestra’s Choice

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‘Twas nine Monday morn, and in a big hall,
A symphony orchestra was not having a ball.

They rubbed their sore eyes, uttered whispers and moans,
“Why wake us so early?” came the disgruntled groans.

“Can’t you see that we’re artists? We must have our sleep!
Before ten o’clock, you really won’t get a peep.”

So they sat for a while, they whinged and they whined,
‘Til one of the admin to the podium climbed.

“I have an announcement,” she proclaimed with a stutter,
That failed to quash all the orchestra’s mutter.

“There will be a concert, a spectacle fine,
Everyone’s favourite piece, in just one week’s time.

It can be any piece, be it big, be it small.
We’ve got the conductor, we’ve booked out the hall!

But to pin down the piece, well, we thought on a ruse,
We could go for a change and let the orchestra choose.”

All jumped up at once, there was no hesitation,
For the room it was filled with a sort of elation.

The horns called for Mahler, the strings cried for Brahms,
“Stravinsky,” came one voice, “the one with the Psalms!”

The cellos for Dvorak put in a quick plea,
With which the cor anglais, for once, did agree.

The flautist threw in Afternoon of the Faun,
But the trumpeter answered to this with a yawn.

“Only ten minutes? We need something longer,
Where the mood it is dark and the meaning is stronger.”

“It should be Shostakovitch, I don’t care which one!”
But the piccolo’s squeak was not dwelt on for long.

The percussionists yearned for something modern and faster,
Scheherazade a clear favourite for the concertmaster.

Mozart and Vivaldi, Schumann and the Bachs,
All were tossed back and forth with some cutting remarks.

But as the orchestra’s mood escalated to rage,
The contra-bassoonist climbed up on the stage.

He cleared his throat once (for luck) then began,
And the speech that then followed, like this it ran:

“My friends, each of these pieces is a glorious dream,
But yet in this room, we must work as a team.

If we continue to play out this musical fight,
I really do think we’ll be staying the night.”

(This comment attracted a flurry of nods,
On one point at least, there was no one at odds.)

“Rather than pieces that show off just one,
Let’s choose us a work that is weighty and long.

I propose we play Beethoven, symphony nine,
For surely, we must all agree it is fine.

It uses full orchestra, chorus as well,
And the final result, it will surely be swell.

What’s more, it is great, it has weight and yet class;
A symphony it would be hard to surpass.”

All stood stock still, not so enthusiastic,
Then the timpanist gave a great roar: “It’s fantastic!”

The orchestra cheered all as one, now on fire,
The harpsichordist, a smile, “I can sing in the choir!”

But back at his desk, the director he sighed,
To the unfortunate admin, he turned and he cried:

“They’ve chosen a piece that’s a nightmare to stage!
Of all things to forget, there was one final page!

For we had a shortlist, not a choice of just any,
The confines of our budget excluded so many.

We cannot perform this; we don’t have the time,
What’s worse, this conductor is not in his prime!”

But down from the hall, a sound it was ringing,
For the orchestra, well, Ode to Joy they were singing.

The director sat down held his head in his hand,
Against such uproar he could not take a stand.

The moral of this tale? Well there could be a few,
Like how best not to make one’s directing debut.

But I think, in the end, though it could well amuse,
It is wise not to let the orchestra choose!

Ian Bostridge Sings Mozart and Schubert – Melbourne Symphony Orchestra

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Friday 7th December

Despite my reservations about a program consisting mostly of Mozart in what has to be described as a very large concert hall, the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra’s collaboration with British tenor Ian Bostridge and conductor Bernard Labadie was highly enjoyable. Labadie’s reputation is for conducting Baroque and Classical repertoire, and it is because of this that the program had such a strong focus on the works of Mozart.

The selection of five Schubert songs was undoubtedly the highlight of the evening. Bostridge appeared totally at ease with the music, exploring the intricacies of colour and melody in Schubert’s writing. The orchestral accompaniment – arranged by Webern – augmented the possibilities of vocal shading while still maintaining the intimacy of piano writing. Though at moments the proximity of a chamber music venue would have better allowed for Bostridge’s subtleties of colour, the Hamer Hall acoustics delivered superbly, and a pleasing balance of instruments and voice seemed effortless on the part of the performers. The brooding Ihr Bild (Her Image) was particularly striking, and Bostridge’s upper register in these songs was outstanding.

The excerpts from Mozart’s opera Idomeneo which preceded the interval, while equally stunning technically,  felt somewhat out of place in the overall arc of the concert. Bostridge executed the arias with passion, ringing Italian, and particularly impressive cadenzas. However, the flow of this segment was unconvincing, with the music seeming to loose rather than gain momentum heading into the interval.

Framing the vocal works, Mozart’s symphonies no. 31 (Paris) and the famous no. 40 were played with buoyancy and delicacy. The opening movements of both works erred on the side of dainty when they could maybe have used a little more umph. It was clear that Bernard Labadie’s musical focus was with the minute gestures rather than the greater arc of the music, which gave the second movement of the Paris symphony in particular a dazzling clarity of sound and musical contour. Lower voices carried beautifully, with even the gentlest of cello pizzicatos clearly audible. It was maybe a little surprising, then, that the woodwind were not more present in the mixture, and that inner-voice melodies in the concluding symphony were occasionally unclear. Both works gained momentum heading into the final movements, with Labadie demanding crisp articulation and bubbling energy.

A concert on the light side thematically perhaps, but nevertheless performed with flair and sparkle.

Stop, repair, prepare…

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Allora & Calzadilla Kaldor Public Art Project

16th November – 6th December

Cowen Gallery, State Library of Victoria

http://www.slv.vic.gov.au/event/kaldor-public-art-project-26-allora-and-calzadilla

A pianist strikes the opening chords of Beethoven’s Ode to Joy, well-known to many but still stunning. More remarkable though, is that they aren’t seated at the  instrument. The piano for this public art installation has been transfigured, or should I say disfigured, to hold the player inside it.

The clever thing about this project is that there are many reasons that it is intriguing and catches the imagination of those passing through the state library’s gallery space. Visually, the whole concept is bizarre. The piano has a gaping hole right where many of the strings should be – complemented by one cut in the lid for visual effect. The player leans out over the keys, playing them backwards and upside-down to create a dazzling contortion of technique. Not only that, but the usually stationary instrument is dragged round the gallery while playing, with the pianist using their body weight to drive the instrument.

All this is clever, and certainly draws an audience, but I think that if this was simply a visual spectacle with little-known music it would be less effective. The power of the project comes from the use of Ode to Joy – indeed the pianist is playing the whole 4th movement of Beethoven’s 9th symphony – a piece that is almost universally known and loved. The listener is drawn into the musical and physical struggle of the performer as they do battle with their constricting position. Even those who had no musical training, it seemed, had some idea of what came next, of the magnitude of the music being performed. And, I think, this is one of the reasons they stayed.

Just as the instrument is incomplete, so is the music. Drawing on the idea of a ‘prepared’ piano with nuts and bolts inserted, the piece makes full use of the instrument’s percussive nature. The central two octaves – with strings removed – are nevertheless explored, adding thuds and taps where one would except Beethoven’s melody to continue. The performer also plucks strings – why not, they’re right there? – and even the sound of the instrument moving round becomes an eerie accompaniment to the music. The pianist seems utterly compelled to make this music, otherwise the physical constraints of the upside-down piano would render it impossible.

Audience reactions to this are incredible and diverse. Of course, many film it on iphones, wanting to share the bizarre nature of the performance. Some follow the piano as it moves round the room, others feel that they should stay still and appreciate the piano from a single angle only. Still some whistle or hum along, caught up in the drama of the music.

Stop, repair, prepare is only on until Thursday 6th December at the State Library of Victoria. If you can go, go! Bizarre, indescribable, this is also deeply touching and a reflection on the power that music has on us both as a listener and a performer.

A Sunday Afternoon Concert – South Melbourne Symphony Orchestra

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Sunday 25th November

There is no denying it, community orchestras are tricky. Tricky because they are at once one of the most important ways of nurturing classical music in the community, and one of the most varied groups of musical individuals one will ever meet. And while Lynette Bridglands is doing a lot of great things with the South Melbourne Symphony Orchestra, as shown by their final concert for 2012, choosing an appropriate program for such an ensemble is challenging.

Rossini’s Overture to The Italian Girl in Algiers got the concert off to a good start, with oboist Sophie Johnson playing the opening solos expressively and with a stunning tone. She just needed to do it louder! Woodwinds lines were well-played, with good intonation and sense of ensemble, but the strings – in particular the first violins – were somewhat lacking in both dynamics and conviction. This, I feel, is one of the first golden rules of community orchestra playing: the concertmaster really must be a charismatic and musical leader capable of injecting some umph into their fellow musicians. Concertmaster David Chan, while clearly very capable technically, didn’t give this, and as a result many of the string players erred on the side of playing a little quietly and with a little less enthusiasm so that they wouldn’t be caught making a dreaded mistake. As a result, upper strings melodies were rather lost, and the sections that were played somewhat under tempo really felt like it.

Elgar’s Sea Pictures was without a doubt the highlight of the concert. Mezzo-contralto (though with an impressive high register too) Helen Hill was splendid both in her interpretation of the music and her presence on stage. The orchestra handled Elgar’s writing well despite any technical difficulties, as they were able to take the lead from both conductor and soloist in terms of colour and musical intention. An encore of Land of Hope and Glory was fitting and fun, leading all buoyantly into the interval with a tune to hum.

The second half presented two very challenging works, though each for its own reasons. Here, I wonder whether it would have been prudent to reduce the program length a little (or maybe even adding a slightly easier second Pomp and Circumstance March to the first half) than attempt to tackle the weight of both Strauss’s Der Rosenkavalier Concert Suite and a Mozart Symphony.

It was clear here that most members of the orchestra are at a high technical standard on their instrument. However, I think that one of the most important considerations of community orchestra programming (and also for youth orchestras, but for slightly different reasons) is recognising the difference between what the ensemble can play in terms of notes, and what they are capable of playing well in concert. Der Rosenkavalier, in particular, was challenging in this respect, and the resulting impression was that most players were still getting to grips with their own parts and not listening terribly much to the ensemble as a whole. Lines were muddy, and at times a central melody was difficult to pick, although the piece picked up momentum as it moved into the waltz.

Mozart’s Symphony No. 35, the Haffner, is challenging for another reason – it needs incredible finesse. Here, the orchestra were clearly enjoying themselves, and the result was a light, buoyant reading, though a little under-tempo. It felt that this would have been just that bit more polished – especially in terms of the strings’ commitment to some of their more challenging lines – had the group spent just a little more time on each of the movements.

Conductor Lynette Bridgland is an enthusiastic and skilled musician, and has clearly put a lot of work into the South Melbourne Symphony Orchestra. However, if community orchestras are to continue to attract audiences and players, I feel that they need to balance their programs a little better. Pick a handful of pieces that are that bit easier, and play them with real conviction and umph, adding a single challenging work that really has a lot of time spent on it. Maybe this will upset a few of the more highly skilled players in the ensemble, but orchestras are a team, and the greatest skill of being an orchestral musician is that of being a team player.