Some of you, my regular readers, will recognize that title as a take-off of my own blog about rare or unusual classical music. Well, in several concerts this week the Festival of the Sound has gone off its own usual turf of "classical chamber music" in several directions. It just makes me sad that these unusual events are not terribly well attended because those who have stayed away have missed some beautiful music and some truly amazing performances!
The first one to mention (or repeat) was the performance of Shostakovich's Hamlet music with text sections from the play performed by actor Jeffrey Wetsch. This was covered in my Festival blog # 2 a few days ago.
This was one of several concerts dominated by music of the twentieth century, and that label alone is enough to persuade many people to steer clear. But it needs to be repeated, loudly: "twentieth century" in music is not, repeat NOT a synonym for acerbic, acidic, discordant noise! Actually, many composers of the twentieth century quite successfully wrote music of high beauty, consonance, and -- dare I say it? -- lasting audience appeal.
One of my favourites was Ralph Vaughan Williams, and although his name did not appear on any programme this week, his spirit seemed to be in the air with several works more or less inspired by folk music (a field which RVW worked very successfully and to beautiful effect throughout his career).
One such work was An-Lun Huang's Capriccio for Clarinet and String Quartet, Op. 41, which was played on Thursday with the composer present. The inspiration here was drawn from Chinese folk music but the net result was decidedly beautiful and didn't sound (to these ears) especially "foreign".
This concert also featured Maples and the Stream by Vince Ho, a setting of poetry by Lien Chao for violin, piano, and speaker. The poetry is full of elusive yet strongly visual imagery. Ho's music was often fragmentary, cryptic, a few notes trying to say a great deal. It was well rendered by Duo Concertante (pianist Timothy Steeves and violinist Nancy Dahn). The reciter was Evelyn Hart, long famed as prima ballerina for the Royal Winnipeg Ballet. Needless to say, such an artist does not just stand and talk. She moved around different areas of the stage, using a few simple props, and occasionally executing a dance-like flourish. Just as every word of the poetry is meaningful, so too with Hart -- her every step and movement, to the slightest tilt of the head, was imbued with poetic insight. Sad to say, then, but nonetheless true, it was not always easy to hear the words. When the spoken word has to compete with music, the word can come off second best, even when (as here) amplification is used.
The same team returned on Friday to perform a work written decades ago on commission for the Festival and not heard again since: Exiles by Godfrey Ridout. When that I was and a little tiny lad, not quite so far back as the dawn of the Old Stone Age, Godfrey Ridout was considered one of the leading Canadian composers. Some musicians today make uncomplimentary noises when they hear his name. This is very short-sighted of them! Ridout deliberately eschewed the more abrasive aspects of the now dated avant-garde, preferring to compose music that would interest and involve audiences. In the process, I feel that he also composed music of lasting value and quality. So, call me an old fogey if you like!
Exiles is a setting of excerpts from Susanna Moodie's famous journal of pioneering in Ontario, Roughing it in the Bush. Again, we had the work given by violin, piano and speaker. Ridout wisely adopted a tone of voice in tune with the era in which this diary was written, and thus much of the music had a very folk-like cast not necessarily typical of his work as a whole (that Vaughan Williams sound again). This time, the moments when Evelyn Hart had to speak through the music were much rarer, with the players acting more as commentators in between the segments of her reminiscences. Again, simple but effective props and furnishing were used, with Hart clothed in appropriate period clothing. She even performed a joyful dance with a broom which brought smiles from many of the audience.
As well, in this concert Duo Concertante played a very amusing suite of Newfoundland folk tunes written for them by Clifford Crawley, Eneffelldy -- Old Lost Sea. (pronounce it out loud to get the joke!). This work reminded me very much of a remark made by one of my favourite music commentators, Sir Donald Tovey, about another composition: "The melody is clearly in C Major, but that is the one key where its harmonies definitely are not." It was great fun picking out the tune of a well-known folksong from a mass of harmony in a quite different key!
On Friday afternoon, the Festival moved "off-campus" (executive director Jen McGillivray's expression for it) to St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church. This church is built in the shape of an octagon, a style much favoured by the Church of Scotland both at home and abroad. The interior is very tall in relation to its floor area, and has a very warm acoustic environment. Here the Festival also moved much earlier than its usual time period by welcoming the Toronto Consort for a performance of their program, Shakespeare's Songbook.
This show was a delight from start to finish! Witty commentaries from music director David Fallis set us up for each number, and the constantly changing assortment of voices and instruments was carefully calculated to banish any hint of monotony. The words did the rest. Some, of course, are familiar from the texts of the Bard's plays, but in other cases the playwright simply indicated that such-and-such a song would be sung. Many of these popular ballads and such were funny, suggestive, even downright raunchy, and the tunes were always catchy and memorable. Great contrast was shown with the use of two songs of definitely tragic import, Bonny Sweet Robin and The Willow Song. With each of these two numbers the audience remained silent for several seconds before applauding, such was the power of the interpretation. The concluding Now Is The Month of Maying, a lively madrigal, involved the entire ensemble of nine for the first and only time and made a fine energetic conclusion!
I also have to mention, just in passing, that this was the first time I have ever witnessed somebody actually playing a hurdy-gurdy, although I have heard them used on several recordings.
I always love these times when the Festival goes out of its familiar turf and starts to experiment with giving us "something different"!
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