Showing posts with label Thomas Gould. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thomas Gould. Show all posts

Sunday 22 March 2015

Thomas Gould ~ Tom Coult ~ Glenn Gould* : Part II

This is a review of a concert by Britten Sinfonia at Saffron Hall on 22 March 2015

More views of - or before - Cambridge Film Festival 2015 (3 to 13 September)
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22 March (24 March, image added)

This is Part II of a review of a concert given by Britten Sinfonia (@BrittenSinfonia) at Saffron Hall, Saffron Walden (@SaffronHallSW), on Sunday 22 March 2015 at 7.30 p.m. – Part I is here

The programme was directed by Thomas Gould (@ThomasGouldVLN) in Locatelli and Bach (arr. Sitkovetsky), and conducted by Carlos del Cueto in works by Tom Coult (@tomcoult) and Hans Abrahamsen



Known as The Goldberg Variations***, BWV 988 - Johann Sebastian Bach (1685–1750), arranged by Dmitry Sitkovetsky* (1954–)


Dmitry Sitkovetsky, conductor and violinist, is the uncle of British violinist Alexander Sitkovetsky (born in Moscow)

In 32 further paragraphs, an attempt to characterize Sitkovestsky’s arrangement and the performance, whose principal players, other than Thomas Gould himself (TG, associate leader of the Sinfonia), were (in order around the stage), Caroline Dearnley (CD, principal cello), Stephen Williams (SW, principal double-bass), Clare Finnimore (CF, principal viola), and Miranda Dale (MD, principal second violin) :

1. The aria à 5 for the principals – too early to say what Sitkovetsky has done ?

2. A cleanly executed bass-line, and, with orchestration as clear as Schoenberg’s of Brahms, this is going to be a pleasure !

3. Listening to the separation of the lines across the various string-groups…

4. A longer treatment of this variation, with a feel of a duet with TG, after CD has initially been to the fore (and in a style of voice that is reminiscent of the Cello Suites, BWV 1007–1012), and then with SW and MD joining in

5. Beautiful bass-lines, plus perfect tutti

6. Fun with fast writing for CD, playing with TG, who then duets with MD

7. A sensation as of swooning, to which touches from the double-basses are added, and then back as we were, before further slight touches, this time within the texture

8. The ambience passes to TG and CD again (and BWV 1007–1012 ?), with sympathetic accents from the former on what the latter is playing

9. An alternation between Lightly skating and Straight

10. A trio of TG, CD and MD, and with a gracious tone from him

11. We are passed from the desk of cellos to other desks, to bring out the line

12. CD duets with CF, with CD’s part, at first, complicated, till the complication moves to CF, and then TG enters, with a brief duet with CF

13. The mood that Sitkovetsky accesses is triumphant, but the tone and intensity ease off and back again, bringing out the detail in Bach’s writing

* 14. A scoring for obbligato violin (TG) and a small group (the violas and cellos)

15. A sense of energy, and Sitkovetsky identifies the tension, not least in the skittish cello-writing

16. Sparingly deploying the violas, against the brightness of the violins, then reducing to forces of TG’s heart-wrenching violin (with CD and CF), before going back up to full strength (minus double-basses), and back to trio mode – and are we not a little reminded of how BWV 1080 (Die Kunst der Fuge) seemingly ends mid air ?

17. An opening of flourishes, with first violins, cellos and double-basses, then to MD, across the stage from TG, and adding in CF and CD – an excitement to this, with the rare use of the basses

18. A variation for quartet, closing with a big smile from CD to TG

19. Restraint, and restrained elegance, which quietly come down

20. Pizzicato, played pp, to accompany the violas – the proverbial pin did not make its drop heard

21. With a pulse from the double-basses, a notion of tumbling, and with fast writing, alternating between TG and CF

* 22. The sadness is in the cellos, but moves to CD playing with CF, and with colour from TG blended in

23. A sprightly variation, with tremulous / trilling string-dazzle

24. TG opens, links with CD, who passes to MD, and with colour from SW

25. The mood of dance, with a pulse of basses, and Sitkovetsky brings out the writing through the second violins, and with further trills, but not dazzlingly this time

* 26. CF (joined by the violas), to which CD (and the rest of the desk) adds, is heard under TG, playing feelingly, and with a slightly jazzily inflected tone – as the section recurs first, one is beyond grief, and then, the second time, TG renders it very finely and tenderly

27. A stately treatment, moving to fast writing for CD, then for CF

28. CF alternates with MD, joined by SW, and then their desks alternate, with the strength of both double-basses, until we end with TG and CF

29. The variation has a clear quality of sheen to its opening section, but it becomes somewhat spiky, with TG playing against pizzicato strings, before the sheen reverts (for a while)

30. CD was clearly enjoying the cello gestures at the start, and it then went back and forth from TG to CD to MD to CF

31. Low and slowly paced bass-notes grounded a sense of unity, and, in the tutti, the ensemble as a whole became softer, fractionally quieter

32. To close, we had the quartet of TG, CD, CF, MD (later joined, in the under-texture, by SW), and, as Gould played molto espressivo, there were beauty, and pathos, and tears in this aria


Inevitably, there have to be a few more words than the 32 paragraphs…

No one quite felt free to applaud afterwards, such was the impact of this tremendous performance – and in no way restrained by the performers.

For, in her programme-notes, Jo Kirkbride had written ‘As the listener is led back, after Variation 30, to the Aria once more, its simplicity shines anew, basking in the reflection of all that has come in between’. Yet, although we had probably been there countless times before, with different performers and versions (Keith Jarrett’s recording, for ECM, on harpsichord had accompanied the journey to the venue), nothing felt quite like this :

The pride at our Britten Sinfonia, with this insightful performance, and our pleasure in the players whom we have not only followed down the years, but also come to know and to trust their judgement and intuition.


Two jazzers, one Bach


And, as Kirkbride says, this arrangement has been lovingly and painstakingly done, which was originally for the 300th anniversary of Bach’s birth, but we can always say that this was for his 330th (his birthday was 21 March, after all) !


In the first half, were works by Locatelli and by composers now alive, Tom Coult and Hans Abrahamsen : reviewed here (as Part I)


End-notes

* Sitkovetsky dedicated his arrangement to Glenn Gould (no relation ?).

** As it stands, the account given is of this one work, in the second half of the concert – the rest of the review is a work in progress...

*** Printed, in 1641, as Clavier Ubung bestehend in einer ARIA mit verschiedenen Verænderungen vors Clavicimbal mit 2 Manualen




Unless stated otherwise, all films reviewed were screened at Festival Central (Arts Picturehouse, Cambridge)
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Wednesday 11 March 2015

Surrealism, The Orient, and Sollertinsky*

This is a review of At Lunch 4 from Britten Sinfonia on Tuesday 10 March 2015

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11 March

This is a review of At Lunch 4 from Britten Sinfonia (@BrittenSinfonia), as performed at West Road Concert Hall (@WestRoadCH), Cambridge, on Tuesday 10 March 2015


Piano Trio No. 2, Op. 67 (1944) ~ Dmitri Shostakovich (1906–1975)




1. Andante
2. Allegro con brio
3. Largo
4. Allegretto


The work begins with high, spidery writing for solo cello, scarcely the easiest place to have a performer be, quietly seeking these harmonic notes right at the top of the range, and probably keenly waiting for the violin part (from Thomas Gould, @ThomasGouldVLN) to come in underneath…

Yet, as throughout, this was playing of great poise from Caroline Dearnley in what, as the movement proceeded to rumination from Huw Watkins (@WatkinsHuw) on piano and ‘bounced’ notes from Gould and her, was really just the prelude to the Andante proper, which was a showcase for excellent communication, both between the three, and to us of their energy and rhythmicity in bringing us the wealth of material here.

The Allegro con brio has some gorgeous, idiomatic string-writing from the man who, although he composed his String Quartet No. 2 in 1944, the same year as this Piano Trio, was going to go on to write another thirteen, and here shows his forte. The players from Britten Sinfonia gave it to us with verve, skill, and endless enthusiasm, and, almost necessarily, with quite a different feel from the chorale-like opening from Watkins to the Largo.

This sets out, in essence, both the chord-structure and the pace behind the beautiful scoring for the string-voices, where we could hear, in the lovely tone of Gould and Dearnley (both separately and together), how the principal sense, again and again, is of falling intervals. In that pacing, there was also the awareness of a heart-beat, and, by the trio’s running the Largo on with the Allegretto, we suddenly had a faster one in the famous opening theme (from when Shostakovich revisited it**) :




The trio was immensely sensitive to adjusting its dynamic up and down to suit the ambience, and Dearnley and Gould also acted as a contrast to each other in the mood of their playing, so that the facets of the work were opened up. In this movement in particular, where so much emotion is concentrated by the composer, the ensemble was devastatingly effective, with Watkins bringing out the intensity and motivic qualities of the piano part, and leading into a passage that took him up and down the keyboard, at the same time as violin and cello tapped out the tell-tale heartbeat.

Although bringing back what some have characterized as a Dance of Death treatment of the initial Jewish theme, and also the high writing for cello and the chorale, Shostakovich actually takes this piano trio elsewhere to end, with a harp-like close. The result is a compelling composition, matched by a highly persuasive performance that the audience at West Road Concert Hall (@WestRoadCH) much appreciated.



The stage had been set, in a way, by two shorter pieces (amounting to the same overall length) by Lou Harrison (1917–2003) and Joey Roukens (1982–), the second of which is reviewed first


Lost in a surreal trip (2015) ~ Joey Roukens (1982–)




Reaching under the lid at the start of this piece, Watkins had to pluck some lower strings, but this never felt akin to John Cage’s approach to piano, but highly specified (with other strings to be played with a beater). Roukens, in writing a brief programme-note about the composition, says that :

Lost in a surreal trip evolves not unlike the experience of a ‘trip’



The feel of the opening keyboard-writing is that it is in and out of time-signatures, and never settling, which turned into a stretched-out section, where the piano played shorter note-values than everyone else. The fragmented opening then came back in a vigorous version, reaching a crescendo – with Owen Gunnell prominent on vibraphone – before the score turned to making minute interruptions to, or light accents on, the thematic material.

Next, recursive patterns gave rise to a sense of travel, of movement, and attention was then momentarily passed from vibes to the cello, and from piano to violin. Visually, and in terms of the emergent sound, Gunnell being asked to play certain cylinders of the vibes with a bow was strikingly different from what had gone before, and against which Roukens placed a quiet contribution from Gould, with Dearnley to the fore on cello.




Chimes of what can only be described as a ‘doomy’ character, accompanied pizzicato, heralded – for a very brief fraction – what closely resembled Bernard Herrmann’s principal theme from North by Northwest (1959) : it was no sooner heard than gone, and melded into a persistent scraping effect from Gould, and, with the alternating presence of snare- and bass-drum, a driving pace and mood was set :

Into it, after a caesura, both loud piano chords and a tam-tam crashed, but were straightaway stilled, and we were taken down to the sound of violin, and plangent, open tones from Watkins. Within several long bowing movements, Gould bent some notes against the sound of the vibes, a section that gave way to faint cello tones, and writing for violin that was almost ghostly.

Complemented by chords from Watkins, Gunnell picked out a theme on vibes, and, as the piano stated some new material, there was a strong sense of expectation in the air – but that was where the piece ended.


One was left, both by hearing it played and by a resultant appreciation of its scope, wanting to hear it again. For it offered such a richness, and one desired – although the title had suggested something rather limited and druggy – to go off with Roukens on an exploration of this cohering notion of the travelling in travel, and – telling words ! – of being 'lost in' a trip that was genuinely Surreal (since the word is much mis- and overused).

This co-commission by the Sinfonia and the Wigmore Hall (@wigmore_hall) was very ably brought to a Cambridge lunch-time recital by these players, as to sense and sound : Maybe not, in fact, the graphic dislocation of tiny figures struggling for life against the backdrop of the huge carvings of Mount Rushmore, but entering into the dream-worlds of Catalan artists Dalí or Miró, or of the Belgians Paul Delvaux and René Magritte… ?


Varied Trio for violin, piano and percussion (1987) ~ Lou Harrison (1917–2003)


1. Gending
2. Bowl Bells
3. Elegy
4. Rondeau in Honor of Fragonard
5. Dance


Going back to before Caroline Dearnley and her cello graced the stage at West Road, we had a trio of violin, piano, and percussion.

Reaching under the lid at the start of this piece, Watkins had to pluck some lower strings, but this never felt akin to John Cage’s approach to piano, but highly specified (with other strings played with a beater). Gending began, thus, moodily and quietly, and with piano and vibes. Yet it was really as the sub-text to elegiac writing for violin (and taps on a gong), ending, as we began, with Watkins sounding a low bass-note, which was allowed to fade.

Bowl Bells (which we later saw emptied of the water that gave them their pitch) began with a sort of ostinato, and with Watkins tapping the case of the Steinway with a beater, as Gould gave us a light pizzicato. This was a movement that revolved around repetitive patterns and rhythmic structures, but which eased off and ended quietly, with Gunnell holding his chopstick-beaters aloft.

It was in Elegy, which linked thematically to the first movement (which, with Bowl Bells, served as a frame for it), that we first had less sense of the oriental, in the writing for violin, and through Gould’s playing, both being more elegiac in a western style. The mood of the ensemble was chromatic, but not dissonant, and one could imagine the marking being espressivo. It concluded quietly, with chimes from Gunnell on vibes.

The Rondeau in Honor of Fragonard opened with ostentatious deployment of, now, a pentatonic scale in the string-writing. However, operating in sonata form, Harrison next gave us, for piano, what sounded like pastiche in the French style : a juxtaposition that, as both moods felt like stereotyped fakes, seemed neither quite a yoking, nor yet pointing up differences. In retrospect, it seemed a little as if it were a foil for the concluding Dance (just as the first two movements had been for the third) :

The restrained feel to the start was not at the expense of a very definite rhythmic quality, which accentuated the writing’s extreme oriental character. The noise of cooking-pans being struck was as of thunder, and Messiaen’s Quatuor pour la fin du temps, with its ‘Danse de la fureur, pour les sept trompettes’ as its sixth movement, was strongly evoked in the writing. The piece as a whole, though, ended with a simple rising cadence (up a third, then a fifth).

Well-executed though the work was, one could not imagine that revisiting it was likely to reward in the way that would the compositions by Roukens, and certainly Shostakovich. By being, even so, an introduction to those other works, it set up points of contrast, which was hardly an unworthy role to have played.


End-notes

* Shostakovich had Ivan Ivanovich Sollertinsky, his 'closest friend', on his mind at the time of writing his Piano Trio No. 2, Op. 67, as we read (in Jo Kirkbride's helpful programme-note) in a letter to Sollertinsky's widow from February 1944.

** In 1960, with his Opus 110, the celebrated String Quartet No. 8, which Shostakovich wrote in just three days (12 to 14 July) when visiting Dresden.




Unless stated otherwise, all films reviewed were screened at Festival Central (Arts Picturehouse, Cambridge)
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Tuesday 4 March 2014

Patricia Kopatchinskaja directs

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4 March

A review of a concert given at West Road Concert Hall (@WestRoadCH), Cambridge, by Patricia Kopatchinskaja, directing Britten Sinfonia on Monday 3 March




From the pre-concert talk, where Patricia Kopatchinskaya (@PatKopViolin) was interviewed by the chief executive of Britten Sinfonia (@BrittenSinfonia), David Butcher, it seemed that she might have curated this concert with the ensemble’s strings. Certainly, she was keen that we should hear the work by Armenian composer Tigran Mansurian (Concerto for Violin and String Orchestra No. 2, Four Serious Songs), and, when asked what he hoped that we would take away, that we should listen with the heart.


Brahms (1833–1897) (arr. Angerer (b. 1927))
In any case, as one would expect from a Sinfonia concert, sensitive programming was by no means the least part of the evening, which opened with a group of pieces (a selection from Brahms’ Choral Preludes, Op. 122 (from 1896), as arranged by Paul Angerer) that spoke with direct, condensed spirituality, but in a variety of moods. The first, O Gott, du frommer Gott, had a very full string sound, and it was only gradually that it became apparent that there was a presence of a voice amongst the texture because a few players, such as leader Thomas Gould, were actually holding their instruments and vocalizing – a very subtle and aetherial effect, which was used in one other of the preludes.

In Herzlich tut mich erfreuen, a prelude that opened with viola and cello, there was an impression of disembodied spirits swaying, whereas, in Herzliebster Jesu, was hast du verbrochen, there was a more weighty feel, as of a force that is in a flow, but resisting it. With Mein Jesu, der du mich, the writing seemed fugal, but lighter in quality, until, that is, the final entry of the basses, which felt to be sounding the depths – a haunting number, which had a relatively sudden end. The final prelude, O Welt, ich muss dich lassen, alternated tutti with a small group of the principals, and had the air, if not the exact theme, of Bach’s St Matthew passion, closing with a heartfelt pianissimo, one of the Sinfonia’s specialities.


Tigran Mansurian (b. 1939)
The link with Brahms was that, in the form of his Four Serious Songs, he gave rise to Tigran Mansurian’s Concerto for Violin and String Orchestra No. 2 – their texts and spirit provided the genesis for a new work, from 2006, which opens with an Andante con moto and the use of harmonics in its introduction, and a slide-effect that resembled keening. In the solo part, where Kopatchinskaja was sometimes dramatically left as an extremely chromatic lone voice and with material that revolved around various types of scale and silence, she played with great expressiveness.

Perhaps significantly, the movement closed following a prominent rising scale, given that texts from Brahms’ original settings ranged from the Book of Ecclesiastes to the celebrated passages in the first letter to the Corinthians, which ends the greatest of these is love. It was followed by another movement marked Andante, but this time qualified by mosso agitato, which was evidenced in some tempestuous currents, which then died away and led to a hesitant solo. When the orchestra re-entered and combined with the lyricism of the solo part, it felt like a prayer. Tension then built dramatically, as a piano passage crescendoed, culminating in an abrupt gesture, after which what seemed like a pianissimo possibile was highly effective : the violin sounded like a pleading voice, and the writing again made use of a scale. Reminiscent of the words in the Book of Isaiah, a smoldering wick he will not quench, the movement closed like a faltering flame.

Next came an Allegro vivace, which had a vivid melody, but with interruptions, and then gave way to another version, this time with harmonics, before resuming. A piece of simple gestures, and again exploiting the quality of being very quiet. To conclude, a movement marked Con moto, molto semplice, which, although coming last, felt like the heart of the work in the form of a culmination, and started with a rocking theme, as of a lullaby, but leading to some very violent writing for the cello section. In the solo part, the material seemed very embellished, and the movement continued with outbursts, before drawing to a close in what seemed an organic way. Though not a work that was necessarily easy on a first hearing, it clearly spoke to the Cambridge audience, as mediated by Kopatchinskaja, and was well received.


Bartók (1881–1945)
In the final work of the first half, the Bartók Romanian Folk Dances from 1915, Kopatchinskaja did not exactly take liberties with what typical recordings do with them*, but she made them feel as a musician in the folk tradition might treat them, fitting the rendition / performance to the occasion, and alive to how it is being received. In the few minutes that the group of dances last, we ran a whole gamut from vigorous playing and slide-notes, performed with feeling, to a sense of restraint, coupled with squeaks and teasing from the soloist. There was also a gypsy strain to the solo violin early on, and, later, a very idiomatic quality to the violin, with the set of dances being brought to a close with immense energy and a strong sensation of joy, evidently conveyed to those present, to judge from the applause.


Janáček (1854–1928) (arr. Tognetti (b. 1965))
Returned from the interval, the audience was in the world of Janáček's String Quartet No. 1 from 1923 (nicknamed or subtitled The Kreutzer Sonata). (There was a fascinating note about the composer's struggle for recognition in the (ever useful) Sinfonia programme.) This time, however, it was the quartet as interpreted for string ensemble by Richard Tognetti. Without in any way disputing the choice of repertoire from a couple of seasons ago, this was, unlike Mahler’s of Schubert’s String Quartet No. 14 in D Minor (alias Death and the Maiden), an arrangement that really added to one’s appreciation of the original, rather than merely having it writ large :

It felt unforced throughout, and not like those orchestrations that try to change the scale of a work. In the opening Adagio, the strings had a luminosity to them, striving, as the movement developed, to achieve serenity from a sense of anxiety. Then, in the first of three movements marked Con moto, a suspenseful atmosphere, where things felt sharp, and, although broken by an edgily sunny interlude, one that intensified. Under Kopatchinskaja, the Sinfonia played with immense delicacy and poise, with a delicious bass and a figure that kept repeating, as if unable not to.

The very familiar third movement, with its vivid change of tempi, communicated one central message amidst its reference to Beethoven’s sonata and sometimes wistful, sometimes agitated beauty, that of a gesture of trying to erase something – as of Lady Macbeth compulsively washing her hands, over and again. In the finale, with phrasing that felt like a bird trying to fly, despite some ensnarement, the musicality of Kopatchinskaja was supremely evident. Heightened tension in the pizzicato passages and a racing movement in the cello section seemed to lead inevitably to the turbulent close of this work, with what came across as a mood of resignation. All in all, a lovely way to hear this music, which has thankfully become better known in the last decade or so.


Mendelssohn (1809–1847)
Finally, a youthful work from Mendelssohn for violin and strings, which Kopatchinskaja had told us that she likes better than his famous concerto. In three movements, it began with an Allegro, and we were soon brought to the tender heart of the theme. From there, the soloist was called upon to execute a series of runs, and then a moment of stasis, with a sustained note, became the springboard for yet more – the writing and playing were both virtuosic, and the latter brought freedom to the former, with Kopatchinskaja giving the impression of improvising cadenzas.

In that part of the concerto, Mendelssohn seemed to be enjoying himself with a recurrent motif, whereas, in the central Andante, he brought us an exquisitely beautiful theme, which Kopatchinskaja made soar and sway with ease – it seemed almost to have the sweetness of birdsong, with the Sinfonia’s ensemble sensitive to the mood, and the movement closed quiescently. With a lively dance tune in the Allegro finale, Kopatchinskaja and Mendelssohn’s sense of playfulness were in their element, and brought the programme to a triumphant finish.


Ligeti (1923–2006)
Not quite, though, for leader Thomas Gould and Kopatchinskaja gave a duo of Ligeti as an encore : the Ballade had the feeling of a Gaelic air, as against the boisterously spirited Danse, and were much appreciated as a closing gesture.




Judge for yourself : here is Hewitt's review...


All in all, a very pleasurable chance to hear this artist, and this Tweet may sum up many a reaction :



Asked what longer work she would bring if she came back, she had said that, depending on with whom else she was playing, she would choose :

* One of the Sonatas for Violin and Piano

* The Sonata for Solo Violin

* The Violin Concerto No. 2, or one of the Rhapsodies



End-notes

* It had been quite clear from what she said in the pre-concert talk that she had been most reluctantly persuaded of the importance to developing her career of making CDs, which she had rebelled against because their unfree nature, as fixed in and for all time, which goes quite counter to her spirit of intuition and innovation.




Unless stated otherwise, all films reviewed were screened at Festival Central (Arts Picturehouse, Cambridge)
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