Okay, maybe I am reaching a bit with that title. But not too much. Friday saw the final appearances for this year's Festival of several key artists who have become integral parts of our Festival experience: the New Zealand String Quartet and cellist Yegor Dyachkov. Looking back at the wide assortment of music played during the last 7 days by these five artists is almost enough to make my head spin!
We found out it was time to say goodbye when the Quartet's violist, Gillian Ansell, announced the fact during the afternoon concert. And there were a lot of goodbyes being said out in the lobby afterwards. That informal front-of-house interaction between artists and audiences is one of the most endearing, and most unusual, features of this Festival.
At any rate, the farewell concert for these fine musicians consisted of two string sextets. The first, Haydn's Sinfonia Concertante in B Flat Major, Hob.I.105, was originally written in 1792 for an orchestra with a concertante group of four soloists: violin, cello, oboe and bassoon. We heard it on this occasion in an arrangement for string sextet by Mordecai Rechtman.
As with so many of the mature Haydn works, this one was full of high spirits and attractive melodies. It follows a standard three-movement (fast-slow-fast) plan, and the ensemble certainly paid due heed to the direction in the final movement: allegro con spirito. It was indeed a spirited performance, crisp, lively, and beautifully shaped with it.
The second work, coming from the same period, was entitled Grande Sestetto Concertante, K.364 and this proved to be a sextet arrangement of Mozart's well-loved Sinfonia Concertante for violin, viola, and orchestra. I didn't have time to check the details ahead of time, so I had the intriguing and amusing experience of hearing melodies which were definitely familiar, but didn't sound quite "right" somehow. In part, this is because the musical materials are divided evenly amongst the six players -- the "solo" distinction of violin and viola in the original is not used here. The arrangement was published in 1808, not long after Mozart's death, with no credit given to the arranger. Hmmm.
At any rate, aside from the familiarity factor (or lack thereof) the group gave a fine performance of this piece as well. I particularly admired the singing tone in the andante, while the presto finale demonstrated great energy without becoming overly hectic -- some performances make a bit too much of the presto direction and become breathless as a result.
The evening concert was entirely given over to a piano recital by Andre Laplante. As one of the most distinguished of Canadian pianists, Laplante has a sizable following among music lovers, and many people planned their visits to the Festival specifically around this concert. I'm sure none of them were disappointed in the slightest!
Laplante opened his program with Busoni's arrangement of Bach's Adagio in A Minor. This piece originated as the middle movement of the unusual Toccata, Adagio and Fugue, BWV 564 for organ. It's a stately, gravely beautiful procession in slow time, somewhat funereal in tone, with the bass line walking up and down through an endless chain of open octaves to set the slow walking tempo. Busoni's arrangement includes a definite danger point, which he inherited from Liszt: his tendency to include the fifth note of the chord in many of the bass octaves. This use of the tonic and dominant together, so low in the keyboard, can create a very congested sound. Laplante skilfully lightened the dominant note in each case so that it was audible, but only just, and the music then could continue to expand freely.
Laplante continued with Mozart's Sonata in B-Flat Major, K.281. There's an appropriate scale of tone for playing Mozart on a modern pianoforte, when his music was written for the much lighter-weight fortepiano of his own day. The possibilities range all the way from heavy-weight semi-Beethoven right down to what some reviewers refer to as "the gentle clink of Dresden china." I felt Laplante steered the middle course admirably, not avoiding a bigger sound when the music became lively, but also keeping restraint in the quieter passages. The central andante amoroso had a fine light touch, and the lively allegro finale took on a bigger tone as its more dramatic passages demanded.
We then were treated (and "treated" is indeed the right word) to the first three of the six Moments Musicaux, D.780 by Schubert. In these pieces, so close in character to the Mendelssohnian idea of "songs without words", a clear singing tone and almost vocal sense of communication is needed. This Laplante certainly gave us, without any undue emphasis or overdone "interpretation". It was lovely Schubertian playing of a high order.
Then came the Beethoven Sonata No. 26 in E-Flat Major, Op. 81a. This is the sonata usually known by the French subtitle les Adieux. The three movements, however, are titled in German Das Lebewohl, Die Abwesenheit, and Das Wiedersehen (respectively "The Farewell", "The Absence", and "The Return"). Laplante conveyed a real air of mystery in the slow introduction, and then launched with great energy into the turbulent first theme of the allegro. He then found a lovely contrasting tone for the more lyrical second theme. His portrayal of the somewhat gloomy slow movement and the joyfully exuberant finale were similarly noteworthy.
I particularly enjoyed Laplante's well-judged use of the sustaining pedal throughout this work. It was a pleasure to be able to hear all the notes, when so many pianists today seem to choose impossibly fast tempi in Beethoven and then make liberal use of the pedal to cover any consequent errors. Make no mistake, Laplante's Vivacissimamente in the finale was as fast as anyone could want, but completely crisp and clear at the same time.
All of that was only the first half of his generously full recital! The second half was given over to the Sonata in B Minor by Liszt, one of the greatest landmarks of the Romantic piano. Laplante took several minutes beforehand to talk about the unique structure of the work, and to briefly highlight the key musical motifs from the keyboard. This is certainly helpful for anyone not familiar with the Sonata, as the cyclical structure of the single extended movement is not easy to grasp at first hearing.
By the time of Liszt, of course, the grand piano (as we know it) was firmly ensconced in music, and so the use of a bigger, bolder tone and stronger attack is entirely to the point. Laplante's assertion that the work is in fact written in the spirit of Romantic opera plainly underlay every minute of his interpretation, which was formidable in every way. Never before have I felt the half-hour work to be coming to its end before I was ready for it to be over!
The intense fast passages roared with fury. The slower moments sang sweetly. Every element took its due place, and the whole came fully together as greater than the sum of its parts. The furious fugal passage near the end was a hair-raising highlight, and the succeeding long quiet epilogue was paced out with the greatest deliberation. Laplante made the conclusion both moving and inevitable, with the last rumbles of the rapid repeated notes quietly played -- as if in memory -- and the final beautiful chords of the gentle cadence as perfectly placed as the last single quiet bass note.
Laplante then treated us to a fine encore, unannounced. which (alas) was not familiar to me, but was just as significant and as well-played as all the rest of this remarkable recital. We certainly received full measure and the enthusiastic cheers and applause were proof of that.
And yet, just once, I found myself wishing that we might have suspended the custom of applause and cheers so that we could have left the hall, in silence, with those final breathtaking bars of the Sonata echoing in our ears and our memories.
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