Hands down, one of the most unusual days of music I've ever experienced. This Festival actually assembled a team of no less than thirteen (count 'em!) cellos.
A shortage of cellists broke out all over New Zealand, as the players gathered up their instruments and flocked to Nelson for this unique event. (Okay, it wasn't really quite that bad!)
Ask music lovers to name a work written for large numbers of cellos, and most will probably mention the famous Bachianas Brasileiras No. 5 by Heitor Villa-Lobos, which was composed for soprano voice and an orchestra of eight cellos. Well, we certainly heard that, along with a great deal of music arranged for cello ensembles of varying sizes and even a couple of other works composed for cello orchestras.
All of this raises the question: why cellos? Why not -- well, name any instrument of your choice -- say, the piano? There certainly have been -- and are -- "monster piano concerts". The cello, though, is unique. Many people say that it is the closest sound any instrument can make to approximating the human voice (I have trouble making that connection myself). The instrument certainly does make a warm, user-friendly sound. And when played en masse, and legato, the warmth and comfort level of the sound gets multiplied by some quantum factor.
So, it was a pleasure to listen frequently through the day to works which made use of that warm, legato tone. The afternoon concert was formally entitled Cellissimo! This programme featured eleven of the cellists, but never more than five on the stage of the Cathedral at any one time. Some works ranged as low as two cellos. That variety of scale of tone certainly kept the day from becoming boring.
I apologize that I can't credit individual cellists with individual performances. I still haven't succeeded in sorting out who played what!
The Bach selections which opened the concert worked beautifully. Indeed, Bach's music often does make the transition very well from instrument to instrument, simply because the master of Leipzig was so often more preoccupied with composition than with instrumentation. That said, the sonata which was written originally for viola da gamba didn't have too far to jump since the viola da gamba was a stringed instrument played in a similar manner to a modern cello. The adagio movement from an organ toccata was a serene highlight of this first group.
Silent Woods by Dvorak is a long-time favourite of the cello repertoire, although written originally for piano 4-hands. The singing lyrical melodies certainly favour a string instrument. The use of a small ensemble of cellos to carry the accompaniment enhanced the melodic line beautifully. The piece ends with a short coda, and there was a special something in the playing of those final few notes that made my eyes suddenly moist.
Next up were Bartok's Rumanian Dances, originally also for piano. I've played a couple of these pieces in a violin/piano arrangement, and found the numerous discords painful indeed to the ears. Yet when the music transfers to an ensemble of cellos, the clashing notes are smoothed out by the less percussive quality of the sound, and the folk inspiration behind the six short pieces comes through far more clearly. This arrangement was definitely all gain, for me.
The afternoon concert concluded with Rachmaninoff's beautiful and tear-laden Vocalise. The cello ensemble certainly brought out the emotion behind this famous melody while keeping it from deteriorating into melodramatic schmaltz. A lovely balancing act on this final number.
The evening concert, Cellos by Candlelight, suffered from an element of uncertainty brought on by unclear programme information. As an example, the programme notes explained about the four sections that make up the Overture to "William Tell" by Rossini. The list of works simply said "William Tell". The ensemble played the slow dawn prelude which opens the overture, and then stopped -- so abruptly that even the leader appeared surprised. The audience, on the other hand, were all expecting the March of the Swiss Soldiers final section (which we all know from The Lone Ranger!), and many had no idea what they'd just heard.
Enough on that theme. The concert opened with the well-loved Canon by Pachelbel. Although this is usually played on three violins, it works very well with the cellos. One cellist played the all-important bass line (the foundation of the entire work) on the bow, another played the bass chords as arpeggios, pizzicato in the manner of Paillard's classic recording. The other three of course played the three intertwined melodic lines to beautiful effect.
The short-short version of William Tell followed, with beautiful, poetic sound in the dawn prelude.
The three movements of the Bachianas Brasileiras # 1, by turns lively, melodic, and ending with an energetic fugue, were probably new to most listeners and presented with plenty of energy.
Next came the slow, mournful Song of the Birds, a traditional Catalan song which Pablo Casals played for many years as an encore to protest the suppression of his homeland by dictator Franco. It opens with the twittering sound of birds played high up by several cellos, followed by the slow, sad melody, played with immense feeling. At the end, the bird songs are repeated twice, fading away into silence -- and my eyes started getting wet again. You didn't have to know any of the history behind this song to sense that you were hearing a lament transcending all time and all borders.
The first half then ended with Casals' own composition, Sardana, again inspired by a Catalan style of dance. This was another piece actually composed for an orchestra of cellos.
After the intermission came the piece for cellos that everyone knows. The ensemble of eight cellists were joined by soprano Jenny Wollerman. I've heard some very fine sopranos sing the Aria movement of the Bachianas Brasileiras # 5, and they've done very well indeed by the music. But never, never, have I heard it sung with such a clear, steady tone from start to finish -- and that includes the notorious and challenging humming reprise at the end. This is where many singers will start to exhibit a little bit of wobble but not a hint of that from Wollerman. The ensemble played crisply in the rapid pizzicato lines, and the melodic legato was also lovely. But why, why, WHY will no one ever go on to the lively Dança movement that ends the work? It's not only fun to listen to, but it also colours your feeling of the piece as a whole when the balancing conclusion is added. Sigh. If it weren't for that loss, I'd be calling this a "definitive" performance.
An ensemble of five cellos next played Manuel de Falla's Popular Spanish Songs. We're more accustomed nowadays to hear these given by a soprano with piano or ensemble, but for years they were played on cello by Jacqueline du Pre. The movements were divided up so that each of the five cellists, in turn, acted as the "singer" for one or more numbers. The contrast in tone colour and playing style among the five was such that I really didn't miss the human voice at all.
After some concentrated stage re-setting, the entire ensemble of thirteen cellists took the stage all at once for three final pieces. These were a lively arrangement of the world-famous Libertango by Astor Piazzola, followed by his more langorous Oblivion, and finally Klengel's Hymnus for 12 cellos, composed in 1920. The tangos were strongly contrasted but both living firmly in the rhythmic world of tango. The Hymnus, although beautifully played, was composed in the very height of post-Romantic fervour and could be not be prevented by the players from descending into schmaltz -- all the way.
I can understand that the 12 cellos all at once made a celebratory end to an event which really did carry a Festival air -- bringing together as it did cellists from all over New Zealand. But if it were up to me, I'd probably want to wrap the concert up with the Bachianas Brasileiras # 5, followed by that haunting lament in the Song of the Birds.
***********************
It seems unfair to confine this event to a P.S., but it simply doesn't fit into the main theme of my post.
One of the features of this Festival is the presence of the Troubadours, a standard string quartet of skilled young musicians just starting out on their careers. That name refers to the way they've been giving little "pop-up" concerts in various locations around the community during the last week and a half. Last night, they gave their own performance in the Cathedral an hour before the main concert.
They performed one of my all-time favourites, the beautiful String Quartet in A Minor, D.804 by Schubert. Among Schubert's late masterpieces for the string quartet, the "Great Three", this one is pre-eminently the melodic quartet. Drama is not entirely avoided, as the A minor key suggests, but always yields place fairly quickly to the next outpouring of beautiful melody -- a Schubert specialty.
These young musicians won my heart by playing the quartet for its melodic value. They certainly didn't fall into the trap of overloading the music with dramatic Sturm und drang. Even in the final movement where a more dramatic style does appear, the impulse to over-characterize it was well controlled. The first violinist, Arna Morton, had a lot to do with that as she has to carry the lion's share of the melodic lines, especially in the first two movements. The quartet as a whole presented the work with a certain air of serenity, with phrasing beautifully shaped, and dynamics curving in the most organic way from soft to loud and back again. All four seemed very much at home with the lyricism Schubert brought to bear on this beautiful creation.
Heartfelt thanks to Morton, and to violinist Rebecca Wang, violist Elyse Dalabakis, and cellist Anna-Marie Alloway, for this fine performance of one of chamber music's greatest inspirations.
So, it was a pleasure to listen frequently through the day to works which made use of that warm, legato tone. The afternoon concert was formally entitled Cellissimo! This programme featured eleven of the cellists, but never more than five on the stage of the Cathedral at any one time. Some works ranged as low as two cellos. That variety of scale of tone certainly kept the day from becoming boring.
I apologize that I can't credit individual cellists with individual performances. I still haven't succeeded in sorting out who played what!
The Bach selections which opened the concert worked beautifully. Indeed, Bach's music often does make the transition very well from instrument to instrument, simply because the master of Leipzig was so often more preoccupied with composition than with instrumentation. That said, the sonata which was written originally for viola da gamba didn't have too far to jump since the viola da gamba was a stringed instrument played in a similar manner to a modern cello. The adagio movement from an organ toccata was a serene highlight of this first group.
Silent Woods by Dvorak is a long-time favourite of the cello repertoire, although written originally for piano 4-hands. The singing lyrical melodies certainly favour a string instrument. The use of a small ensemble of cellos to carry the accompaniment enhanced the melodic line beautifully. The piece ends with a short coda, and there was a special something in the playing of those final few notes that made my eyes suddenly moist.
Next up were Bartok's Rumanian Dances, originally also for piano. I've played a couple of these pieces in a violin/piano arrangement, and found the numerous discords painful indeed to the ears. Yet when the music transfers to an ensemble of cellos, the clashing notes are smoothed out by the less percussive quality of the sound, and the folk inspiration behind the six short pieces comes through far more clearly. This arrangement was definitely all gain, for me.
The afternoon concert concluded with Rachmaninoff's beautiful and tear-laden Vocalise. The cello ensemble certainly brought out the emotion behind this famous melody while keeping it from deteriorating into melodramatic schmaltz. A lovely balancing act on this final number.
The evening concert, Cellos by Candlelight, suffered from an element of uncertainty brought on by unclear programme information. As an example, the programme notes explained about the four sections that make up the Overture to "William Tell" by Rossini. The list of works simply said "William Tell". The ensemble played the slow dawn prelude which opens the overture, and then stopped -- so abruptly that even the leader appeared surprised. The audience, on the other hand, were all expecting the March of the Swiss Soldiers final section (which we all know from The Lone Ranger!), and many had no idea what they'd just heard.
Enough on that theme. The concert opened with the well-loved Canon by Pachelbel. Although this is usually played on three violins, it works very well with the cellos. One cellist played the all-important bass line (the foundation of the entire work) on the bow, another played the bass chords as arpeggios, pizzicato in the manner of Paillard's classic recording. The other three of course played the three intertwined melodic lines to beautiful effect.
The short-short version of William Tell followed, with beautiful, poetic sound in the dawn prelude.
The three movements of the Bachianas Brasileiras # 1, by turns lively, melodic, and ending with an energetic fugue, were probably new to most listeners and presented with plenty of energy.
Next came the slow, mournful Song of the Birds, a traditional Catalan song which Pablo Casals played for many years as an encore to protest the suppression of his homeland by dictator Franco. It opens with the twittering sound of birds played high up by several cellos, followed by the slow, sad melody, played with immense feeling. At the end, the bird songs are repeated twice, fading away into silence -- and my eyes started getting wet again. You didn't have to know any of the history behind this song to sense that you were hearing a lament transcending all time and all borders.
The first half then ended with Casals' own composition, Sardana, again inspired by a Catalan style of dance. This was another piece actually composed for an orchestra of cellos.
After the intermission came the piece for cellos that everyone knows. The ensemble of eight cellists were joined by soprano Jenny Wollerman. I've heard some very fine sopranos sing the Aria movement of the Bachianas Brasileiras # 5, and they've done very well indeed by the music. But never, never, have I heard it sung with such a clear, steady tone from start to finish -- and that includes the notorious and challenging humming reprise at the end. This is where many singers will start to exhibit a little bit of wobble but not a hint of that from Wollerman. The ensemble played crisply in the rapid pizzicato lines, and the melodic legato was also lovely. But why, why, WHY will no one ever go on to the lively Dança movement that ends the work? It's not only fun to listen to, but it also colours your feeling of the piece as a whole when the balancing conclusion is added. Sigh. If it weren't for that loss, I'd be calling this a "definitive" performance.
An ensemble of five cellos next played Manuel de Falla's Popular Spanish Songs. We're more accustomed nowadays to hear these given by a soprano with piano or ensemble, but for years they were played on cello by Jacqueline du Pre. The movements were divided up so that each of the five cellists, in turn, acted as the "singer" for one or more numbers. The contrast in tone colour and playing style among the five was such that I really didn't miss the human voice at all.
After some concentrated stage re-setting, the entire ensemble of thirteen cellists took the stage all at once for three final pieces. These were a lively arrangement of the world-famous Libertango by Astor Piazzola, followed by his more langorous Oblivion, and finally Klengel's Hymnus for 12 cellos, composed in 1920. The tangos were strongly contrasted but both living firmly in the rhythmic world of tango. The Hymnus, although beautifully played, was composed in the very height of post-Romantic fervour and could be not be prevented by the players from descending into schmaltz -- all the way.
I can understand that the 12 cellos all at once made a celebratory end to an event which really did carry a Festival air -- bringing together as it did cellists from all over New Zealand. But if it were up to me, I'd probably want to wrap the concert up with the Bachianas Brasileiras # 5, followed by that haunting lament in the Song of the Birds.
***********************
It seems unfair to confine this event to a P.S., but it simply doesn't fit into the main theme of my post.
One of the features of this Festival is the presence of the Troubadours, a standard string quartet of skilled young musicians just starting out on their careers. That name refers to the way they've been giving little "pop-up" concerts in various locations around the community during the last week and a half. Last night, they gave their own performance in the Cathedral an hour before the main concert.
They performed one of my all-time favourites, the beautiful String Quartet in A Minor, D.804 by Schubert. Among Schubert's late masterpieces for the string quartet, the "Great Three", this one is pre-eminently the melodic quartet. Drama is not entirely avoided, as the A minor key suggests, but always yields place fairly quickly to the next outpouring of beautiful melody -- a Schubert specialty.
These young musicians won my heart by playing the quartet for its melodic value. They certainly didn't fall into the trap of overloading the music with dramatic Sturm und drang. Even in the final movement where a more dramatic style does appear, the impulse to over-characterize it was well controlled. The first violinist, Arna Morton, had a lot to do with that as she has to carry the lion's share of the melodic lines, especially in the first two movements. The quartet as a whole presented the work with a certain air of serenity, with phrasing beautifully shaped, and dynamics curving in the most organic way from soft to loud and back again. All four seemed very much at home with the lyricism Schubert brought to bear on this beautiful creation.
Heartfelt thanks to Morton, and to violinist Rebecca Wang, violist Elyse Dalabakis, and cellist Anna-Marie Alloway, for this fine performance of one of chamber music's greatest inspirations.
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