Second day of the six days I'm spending at the Festival. Of course, the music I heard today wasn't all virtuoso fireworks, but there were certainly some striking examples on the programme, as well as some well-loved romantic masterpieces.
The day actually began in the afternoon at the Cathedral with one of the latter. There's nothing wildly showy about Borodin's famous String Quartet No. 2. Anyone familiar with the Broadway musical Kismet will be on familiar ground here, especially in the famous Nocturne third movement. In a way, it's not at all surprising that Borodin's music with its lush and beautiful sound should have been adapted for such a purpose. The Goldner String Quartet did a fine job of bringing out the contrasts in the score. The long melodic lines of the first movement sang beautifully. The second movement Scherzo bubbled and fizzed almost like the best champagne of Offenbach, and the little pizzicato joke at the end was beautifully placed. The Nocturne had a lovely sense of ebb and flow to it, the gentle kind of breathing in the tempo that makes music come alive. The Goldners wound up the finale to a joyful conclusion in which the first violin has to sustain a high D while the others work out the final chords -- an almost operatic effect if you can imagine that violin as a high soprano instead!
The Goldner Quartet were then joined by clarinetist James Campbell for the Clarinet Quintet by Jean Françaix. Any encounter with this composer's music is apt to bring on some discussion of how the composer's name should be pronounced. Campbell certainly made the audience chuckle when he recounted a story of the composer saying, "It should be pronounced 'Frahn-sex' -- but with a smile."
This is first and foremost very witty music. It's the only word for it. Françaix lived from 1912 to 1997, but his music doesn't pay much attention to the surging currents of experimentation roaring through the musical world during those decades. It's eminently civilized, fun to listen to, and in many places definitely written with tongue in cheek. Purists and cutting-edge innovators would no doubt sneer, but I see no reason why we shouldn't relax and enjoy the fun!
This performance definitely was given in that spirit. Sound was balanced nicely among the five players, articulation was crisp and clear throughout, and the various solo highlights were all allowed to shine without overwhelming. The first movement in particular started out rather solemnly, but when the allegro suddenly took off the effect was very like the popping of a champagne cork. The scherzo followed with more bubbling, light-hearted music. The slow movement contrasted beautifully with the others, a moment more to relax and savour than to fire ahead -- and the finale did that soon enough anyway. Lest I give the impression that this is second-rate music, be assured that Campbell and the Goldners had to call on their considerable skills as musicians to bring it fully to life for us. The making of souffles and fine champagne requires great care and precision, and is not a task for unskilled amateurs!
For the evening concert, we moved to the Theatre Royal (my first visit). The move has upsides and downsides -- but the big # 1 downside is that the acoustics are inferior to the Cathedral. I was grateful to be seated in the front row where I could see and hear everything clearly.
The first work was a Canadian composition -- you get no bonus points for guessing which musician presented this one! Alexina Louie's Cadenzas II for clarinet and marimba was written in 1985. That date made my eyes pop a bit. I've become so used to Louie as a significant voice in the Canadian musical landscape that I'd forgotten just how long she has been composing!
The title intrigued me. The Italian word cadenza ("cadence") is usually used to describe a point in a concerto where the orchestra begins a cadence, then pauses and allows the soloist to improvise upon the themes until an agreed-upon signal gesture (usually a long trill) brings the orchestra back in to complete the cadence and carry the piece to its conclusion. While cadenzas may be written out, and sometimes are even by the composer him/herself, they always maintain that improvisatory quality.
Well, Louie's music certainly did that! Given the respective nature of the two instruments, it's not surprising that James Campbell on clarinet had the lion's share of the improvisatory melodic material. Ian Rosenbaum on marimbas (he used three instruments in all) was more often tasked with complex ostinato figures involving three- and four-note chords. But the marimba part, too, gets a share of the virtuoso acrobatics. And make no mistake, this is a virtuoso showpiece. It would be tedious to count up, but I'm willing to bet that Campbell played more notes in this than in all other pieces I've heard from him so far combined. And not just notes -- the lines often require the player to rocket up and down between the clarinet's high and low ranges. Rosenbaum was by no means left in the shade -- he used all the different shades of tone that he could command on his instruments, very tellingly.
Next up was Beethoven's Sonata No. 3 for Cello and Piano in A Major, Op. 69. This is an energetic work, even boisterous at times, full of light and shade. It gives scant hint that the composer was going through the crisis in which his deafness was becoming increasingly profound.
The best evidence of any darkness in Beethoven's soul is found in the nasty technical trap which afflicts this cello sonata in particular. The cello part, especially in the first movement, is often written deep down for the instrument's lower strings. Well, what of it? Only this: that the piano part is often very heavily written, in a manner forecasting the dense piano writing of Brahms in much of his chamber music (coming up), and great care is needed to ensure that the cellist doesn't vanish altogether.
There are several ways to approach this problem. Cellist Matthew Barley chose to play those deep passages flat out, with an insistently savage attack that kept him fully in the bigger sound picture at all times. Pretty it was not, but definitely an exciting approach. It had the benefit of freeing pianist Dénes Varjon to lean right into Beethoven's writing without having to pull back noticeably. Result: a dynamic, thrilling performance which still found the contrasts of the quieter passages with clear, limpid lyricism.
After the intermission, Varjon joined with violinist Helene Pohl and cellist Rolf Gjelsten for the Piano Trio Op. 8 by Brahms. Again there is the balance issue to contend with, as the young, enthusiastic Brahms sometimes forgets his two string colleagues in the joy of writing his signature complex chords and polyphonic lines for his beloved piano. Another interesting detail is the very rare fact that this work, which begins in the major, ends in a minor key! Yet the ending is certainly not tragic -- we aren't yet looking at the final darkness of Tchaikovsky or Mahler! Rather, it is filled with all the drama of a stormy day.
No worries in this performance. This was a deeply-felt reading of Brahms' early masterpiece, and the balance and musicality throughout were equally impressive. Particularly gripping were the fire and propulsive quality of the Scherzo, a young Brahmsian giant. The slow movement followed on with serenity and poise from all. The darkly dramatic finale set the seal on a powerful performance of a powerful work, the final coda cranking up the intensity right to the final notes.
You know it's an impressive performance when the audience takes a moment to catch their breath before the cheers and applause erupt.
Next up was Beethoven's Sonata No. 3 for Cello and Piano in A Major, Op. 69. This is an energetic work, even boisterous at times, full of light and shade. It gives scant hint that the composer was going through the crisis in which his deafness was becoming increasingly profound.
The best evidence of any darkness in Beethoven's soul is found in the nasty technical trap which afflicts this cello sonata in particular. The cello part, especially in the first movement, is often written deep down for the instrument's lower strings. Well, what of it? Only this: that the piano part is often very heavily written, in a manner forecasting the dense piano writing of Brahms in much of his chamber music (coming up), and great care is needed to ensure that the cellist doesn't vanish altogether.
There are several ways to approach this problem. Cellist Matthew Barley chose to play those deep passages flat out, with an insistently savage attack that kept him fully in the bigger sound picture at all times. Pretty it was not, but definitely an exciting approach. It had the benefit of freeing pianist Dénes Varjon to lean right into Beethoven's writing without having to pull back noticeably. Result: a dynamic, thrilling performance which still found the contrasts of the quieter passages with clear, limpid lyricism.
After the intermission, Varjon joined with violinist Helene Pohl and cellist Rolf Gjelsten for the Piano Trio Op. 8 by Brahms. Again there is the balance issue to contend with, as the young, enthusiastic Brahms sometimes forgets his two string colleagues in the joy of writing his signature complex chords and polyphonic lines for his beloved piano. Another interesting detail is the very rare fact that this work, which begins in the major, ends in a minor key! Yet the ending is certainly not tragic -- we aren't yet looking at the final darkness of Tchaikovsky or Mahler! Rather, it is filled with all the drama of a stormy day.
No worries in this performance. This was a deeply-felt reading of Brahms' early masterpiece, and the balance and musicality throughout were equally impressive. Particularly gripping were the fire and propulsive quality of the Scherzo, a young Brahmsian giant. The slow movement followed on with serenity and poise from all. The darkly dramatic finale set the seal on a powerful performance of a powerful work, the final coda cranking up the intensity right to the final notes.
You know it's an impressive performance when the audience takes a moment to catch their breath before the cheers and applause erupt.
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