At Lunch 3 : Flutter-notes, gong-sounds, and vigorous tremolo

This is a review of Britten Sinfonia in At Lunch 3 on 23 February 2016

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23 February

This is a review of At Lunch 3, given by Britten Sinfonia at West Road Concert Hall, Cambridge, on Tuesday 23 February 2016 at 1.00 p.m.

Debussy ~ Syrinx (1913)

Flautist Emer McDonough commenced the recital with this familiar work, (1) Syrinx, in the manner of an impromptu. It had two sections at the beginning that end with very quiet notes, and, with the impression and / or feeling of a dream, her playing luxuriated in the lugubrious passages in the lower register.

Afterwards, she said a few words about what a privilege it had been to prepare, and to be performing, this programme with Clare Finnimore and Lucy Wakeford.


Programme :

1. Claude Debussy (1862-1918) ~ Syrinx

2. Toru Takemitsu (1930-1996) ~ And then I knew ‘twas Wind

3. Daníel Bjarnson (1979-) ~ Parallel

4. Franco Donatoni (1927-2000) ~ Marches

5. Debussy ~ Sonata for Flute, Viola and Harp



Takemitsu ~ And then I knew ‘twas Wind (1992)

McDonough (the Sinfonia’s principal flautist) was joined by Clare Finnimore (principal violist), and, on pedal-harp, Lucy Wakeford (principal harpist) for (2) this composition for trio, which opens with harp.

One could easily enough identify Schoenbergian elements of flutter-notes on flute and vigorous tremolo on viola, but they were only means to an end (as when the tuning-block was used to give a steel-guitar effect on harp), even if they ineluctably summoned up a form of repertoire :

Playing as equal instruments in And then I knew ‘twas Wind (although it seemed to be the harp that introduced material, or made comments), they were required to be meditative on a 6- or 7-note theme, employing a variety of timbres and textures : for example, with Lucy Wakeford, on harp, changing attack and her techniques, and from sharp to light in a few notes.

As with Ligeti’s Continuum (which we heard Maggie Cole play in At Lunch 2), there was a danger here, in this pervasive and intense sound, of noticing too much, and so not noticing enough : almost just as faint stars can be seen best not by looking directly at them, but by letting oneself become aware of their presence in the periphery of one’s vision… ?



Bjarnson ~ Parallel (2016)

Different elements of the trio were in and out of being at rest in section I of (3) Parallel, with the casing of the harp being used, and with a sharp attack employed on viola and flute. Tonal, lyrical passages emerged, but we moved out to be quiet again in conclusion.

Section II initially had moving patterns for Wakeford over a sort of drone from viola and flute, which turned into an elegy for flute. Next, section III came straight in, with much – and more integrated – liveliness : very short, but full of energy.

Section IV opened with gong-like ‘clangs’ (claps ?) on solo harp, which became an ostinato over which the flute entered and floated, and the viola dipped in and out. With four long notes, the viola-writing became more expansive, and a coda had it to the fore (with quiet harp and flute), but we finished with soft flute and harp.



Donatoni ~ Marches (‘Steps’) (1979)

Lucy Wakeford introduced (4) this piece, which she played with inventiveness, and which has both a distinct sound and sound-world – often troubled in tone, and, with its obsessive material, producing anxiety (in this listener, at least).

The rhythmicity of Marches (‘Steps’) had the power to unsettle / disquiet [again, a point of comparison with the Ligeti from At Lunch 2], and could be considered to be expressing the content of dreams (or neuroses) that we struggle to wake from. At any rate, it caused Wakeford to be called back for applause at her virtuoso rendition.



Debussy ~ Sonata for Flute, Viola and Harp (1915)

1. Pastorale : Lento, dolce rubato
2. Interlude : Tempo di Minuetto
3. Finale : Allegro moderato ma risoluto


Clare Finnimore spoke briefly to introduce the (5) Sonata, and what it has meant to her in her time since she first played it (at music college ?). The opening Pastorale, as well as having, at the start, some well-known music in the vein of a Berceuse (to which some wish to go to sleep), had a real exuberance to it, and a fond feeling in the part for flute, which helped create an apparently care-free mood.

So we heard McDonough, with ‘jaunty’ writing for viola, and supported by the harp. At this point, the tone of the viola became full of earnestness, and, in its phrased line, perhaps we were reminded of a moment in Debussy's String Quartet (in G Minor, Op. 10) before the drowsy sensations accompanying the opening material recurred ?


The Interlude* will also be known to many outside of its context in the Sonata, and it represented a movement when the forces of the trio were in interchange : we heard the theme on the harp, then, when Finnimore’s viola joined in, glissandi, and material passing back and forth with the flute. When we heard the theme stated at the end, it was low on Emer McDonough’s instrument.


In the Finale, we had pizzicato writing and vigorous figures on the harp. There was much about this movement that was tempestuous and serious, as Finnimore had mentioned, with stern accents for viola. However, they fell away, and there was almost a touch of the comic, as Debussy eased off, closing in a different vein.


As, for its length, the work ‘claimed rank’ even on the Takemitsu, it was understandable that the Debussy received much applause : in a way, it was the work around which the whole programme had been built, and so, in bringing it full circle to Debussy, the acclaim was for all the moods that these principals of Britten Sinfonia (@BrittenSinfonia) had given us in this hour-long recital.


End-notes

* The word comes from mediaeval Latin interludium, from inter- ‘between’ + ludus ‘play’.


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

Catrin Finch at The Corn Exchange, Cambridge

This reviews European Union Chamber Orchestra with Catrin Finch / Fiona Slominska

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6 February

This review is from a concert given by The European Union Chamber Orchestra and with soloists Catrin Finch and Fiona Slominska, at The Corn Exchange, Cambridge, on Friday 5 February at 7.30 p.m.

Great pre-concert talk by @CatrinFinch @heffersbookshop before last night's @EUCO1 concert. Fantastic evening! pic.twitter.com/MQTdDy5qgL

— Camb Corn Exchange (@CambridgeCornEx) February 6, 2016

A nice talk by @CatrinFinch, with humour, candour and someone who really just knew, at five, what she wanted to be ! https://t.co/FuCq0NWDZC

— THE AGENT APSLEY (@THEAGENTAPSLEY) February 6, 2016

After the talk that Catrin Finch gave, which was in the basement of Heffer’s bookshop in Cambridge (with Ambrose Miller (Managing Director of The European Union Chamber Orchestra (EUCO / @EUCO1)), the first piece on the programme at The Corn Exchange (@CambridgeCornEx) was Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 (in G Major, BWV 1048).

For understandable reasons (because none of the other pieces required harpsichord¹), EUCO had omitted it from the ensemble. However, although the contribution that it makes to the continuo is perhaps subtle at times, it is still important in this third Brandenburg, otherwise Bach would have scored the work for just ten strings (we had nine, in the event, with just two cellos).

From the point of view of just being able to omit that instrument, only Brandenburg Concerto No. 4 might really have succeeded (and here, with very different scoring, would just have created a surfeit of recorder-players !). As it was, particularly at the tempo at which the first movement was taken, hearing the harpsichord amongst the strings, as Bach intended, would have enriched the texture, and opened up the scope for more-nuanced intonation.



Concerto for Flute and Harp in C Major, K. 299 ~ Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756–1791)

1. Allegro
2. Andantino
3. Allegro


Note on the cadenzas :
As would have been usual, we do not have any written-out cadenzas provided by Mozart (even if it was asserted that they did not survive). The usual choice is those by German pianist and composer Carl Reinecke, but André Previn (as well as various soloists) have written ones of their own.

Fiona Slominska :

http://www.maneffa77.pwp.blueyonder.co.uk/Fiona/biography.html

The introductory bars of the Allegro, with two horns and two oboes, had poise and grandeur. Flute and harp were co-introduced, and were sharing thematic material², and with the flute seeming to give answers or replies to the harp – on occasion, the latter’s part seemed to be that of beautifying the role of the flute. However, at many others, it also had significant chords and closures, and Catrin Finch was obviously into the work from the start, feeling the way in relation to and working with her fellow soloist Fiona Slominska’s playing, and, as the movement proceeded, there were was greater interplay between the instrumentalists. In the cadenza, before a close per tutti, the flute gave the impression of wanting to say something, but of failing, in the end, to do so.


Andantino is an unusual marking, in that it can ambiguously mean a little slower or a little faster than Andante. With its opening, for strings, it similarly seemed more than a distant relative to Mozartian theme familiar from elsewhere. The version of the theme that we heard on the flute was passed to the harp, which now had more scope to be eloquently expressive, and there was a synergy with Slominska, as we saw Finch carefully listening to what the flute was doing, and which then caused the synergy to work even more closely :

If we were to want to ascribe moods or characters to the soloists’ parts, that of the flute weightily feels something emotional, and has a sympathetic response from the harp. The cadenza began in a standard way, but again with the sense of the flute searching, and, in that search, of becoming even more of a duo with the harp. In the refinement at the end of the movement, the motif from the cadenza continues to be shared between them, but in the company of the strings.

Catrin Finch

Away from this feeling of intimacy (not uncommon with Mozart’s slow, inner movements) was the effect of the almost boisterous and rather ‘straight’ opening to the Allegro, complete, at points, with horns and oboes. For a while, harp was to the fore, before passing over to flute, when Catrin Finch could be seen, with her head cocked, listening to Slominska’s intonation and interpretation, in and out of passages with orchestra : the more that one tries to write about musical performance, the more that one finds oneself watching the communication involved in how soloists and other fellow musicians seek to hear and align themselves with what is being played. Briefly, harp and the two oboes were the most prominent players, and with matter that, when handed to the flute and supported by the harp, formulates the concerto’s path ahead.

In that, Finch had definite and clear statements to make (at one moment, with forceful repetitions), and one was in no doubt about her energy or her enjoyment of her role in the work : she imbued it with the spirit of making utterances, but all the while heeding the flute as a commentator who could influence the direction of her own playing. Come the cadenza - with Slominska holding the note that leads into it, as the ensemble expectantly withdraws - the instruments were as equals, and, when Finch broke off with the melody, it oscillated between them before they played together. In lively and positive mood, the Concerto completed with cadences and two full final chords, and to much appreciation for harpist Catrin Finch, and flautist Fiona Slominska.


* * * * *



Danse sacrée et danse profane³, L. 103 ~ Claude Debussy (1862-1918)

Beforehand, after the intervening interval, Catrin Finch needed to check being in tune, with scales and swirls. To the first dance’s relatively sombre opening (the Danses sacrée), she brought lightness of touch from the harp, and a definite feeling that she was in command : in that sound, one could almost sense what it had been, hearing Marisa Robles play, that had captivated a girl of five with the wish to be able to conjure such sounds into existence. When the strings played pizzicati, her tone was authoritative, and the restatement of the theme was made with restraint.

The tone and theme of Danse profane, begun by the harp and then in relaxed synchrony with the strings, are arguably more familiar. As it developed, Finch brought to it playing that was first luminous, but, soon after, deliberately resembled brittleness. When Debussy started anew with his material, she gave us an evocation of a rêverie, and then a mood that seemed decisive, which, when it led to one of action, was marked by tautness. A glissando, and a few quiet touches, brought the piece to a finish.

Catrin Finch ~ www.catrinfinch.com

Catrin Finch was again greeted with much enthusiasm for her thoughtful playing, and some flowers from the wings.


After the Debussy, we heard Haydn’s Symphony No. 55 in E Flat Major (Hob. I:55), with the finale of his better-known and recently performed Symphony No. 49 (in F Minor, La passione (Hob. I:49)), as an encore.

It brought out the orchestra’s enthusiasm, although they had done their best to be inspired with playing the preceding symphony : read around it only a little, though, and no one seems to consider it other than highly conservative in approach, etc. Failing a better choice from Haydn's many other symphonies, we might (despite issues of balance) have been better ending with the Debussy… ?


End-notes

¹ That said, a soloist may commonly play an instrument (such as a piano) that will not appear in the rest of the concert, quite apart from some members of the orchestra.

² Did the principal theme seem to resemble one from Mozart’s Concerto for Flute and Orchestra in G Major, K. 313 ?

³ The piece itself, consisting of two movements (respectively, the sacred and profane), is relatively straightforward (or so familiar as to seem so ?). However, sometimes the separate titles get confused, as Danses sacrée et profane, which means not only that it appears that more than one dance is being referred to as both sacred and profane at the same time, but also, for anyone who knows about adjectival agreement in French, some scratching of the head as to why this is not in the plural throughout, i.e. Danses sacrées et profanes.

(For those who prefer, there appears to be this alternative title : Deux danses pour Harpe (ou Harpe chromatique ou piano) avec accompagnement d'orchestre d'instruments à cordes.)


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

Pleasantry at The Pheasantry

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5 November


This is a review of Edana Minghella’s quartet gig on 2 November at Pizza Express’ jazz club in The Kings Road, The Pheasantry, with personnel Sarah Bolter (tenor and (curved) soprano sax, flute), Pete Maxfield (double bass), and Mick Smith (piano)


Declaration of interest : Trust me that I am being impartial, though Edana and I Follow each other on Twitter (as a consequence of having made the connection that I was at university with one of her sisters). However, this means that I cannot – because it does not sound right – adopt my usual approach and call her Minghella…


How can one capture a gig ? Go through the set-list, number by number, commenting on each ? Maybe, but, not that a review should document as such, here is the set-list for the gig (provided, complete with attributions, at lightning speed by Edana):


1. Bring a little water, Sylvie (Traditional, this version attributed to Leadbelly, aka Huddie Ledbetter)

2. Teach me to-night (Gene De Paul & Sammy Cahn)

3. Speak low (Kurt Weill, lyrics Ogden Nash)

4. Catch the wind (Donovan)

5. Who can I turn to? (Leslie Bricusse & Anthony Newley)

6. A little sugar in my bowl (originally as sung by Bessie Smith, written by Clarence Williams, J. Tim Brymn, Dally Small; this version reworked by Nina Simone)

7. All or nothing at all (Arthur Altman, Lyrics by Jack Lawrence)


8. With Guillermo Rozenthuler : Corcovado in medley with Vivo Sonhando (both by Antonio Carlos Jobim)

9. With Guillermo Rozenthuler : You and the night and the music (Arthur Schwartz, lyrics by Howard Dietz)


10. The King of Rome (David Sudbury)

11. Down with love (Harold Arlen, lyrics by E Y Harburg)


Encore : Don’t look back in anger (Noel Gallagher)



If we want to talk about Edana’s voice, it takes some courage – voices and nerves being what they are – to open one’s set a capella (1) and in a very unadorned, unaccented way (joined later by understated tenor), and it was not the only point at which we saw such fortitude.

The actual quality of Edana’s voice I describe as like silk, with honeyed tones, and sometimes lightly breathy. Less nasal than Stacey Kent (and with more of a range ?), Edana’s vocal quality reminded me of her, though their approach to phrasing, and to swinging a tune, is quite different.

However, you can judge for yourself, by going to her web-site, and having a listen to a couple of tracks from her CD Still on my Feet (you have to sign up to some innocuous application – at least, it seemed benign when I did so).

Back at the gig, we had a standard next (2), which I have certainly heard Stacey Kent perform. Edana used rubato to give the impression that the number was fighting to get off the leash, and that, at any moment, the tenor would rock it up. It was a teasing exercise in restraint, and she introduced minute hesitations to bring out the thrill in the words :

Should / the teacher / stand

By now, all members of the trio had joined in, and they next (3) gave us the repetitive irregular pattern of what I identified with as a rumba, piano and bass a solid rhythm section, with repeated spread chords from the former. (Yes, it is Kurt Weill, and I do not know what the arrangement was.) I believe that Edana let that accentuation speak for itself, but allowed the bar-lines to be flexible to do so, and was joined, in a neat matching of register, on soprano sax.

In introducing the next item (4), an audience request from Lesley, Edana dedicated it to anyone who had the experience of having walked along the sand with someone who is no longer there, and it was a beautiful, reflective number, called Catch the wind – a number that had a distinctive run of three notes before a rise, then, after a pause, repeating that note twice and descending, evocative, perhaps, of currents of air. It was given a straight run-through, with Edana’s voice floating above the accompanying forces.


Which brings me to a brief interude, on jazz-singers and their bands. As important as knowing one’s personnel is, what matters more is rapport and responsiveness – I recall one saxophonist, playing with eyes closed (and maybe thinking that he was Coltrane), distending a solo beyond the comfort of the singer, given that it was desired to resume the mood established for the lyric. ‘In proportion’ is another phrase that springs to mind, and that is what the dynamics of Edana with her trio seemed to be.

Examples have already been given where voice matched instrument(s), and, although it is always impressive when a pianist can go off on an impassioned train of thought or a sax-player go through some runs and riffs, a reliable group of musicians, in sympathy with the approach to the song, counts for a lot more. So, although Mick Smith took a solo in (5), it was clear that this is not his thing, but creating texture.

That song, which Edana introduced by quoting the lines ‘Who can I turn to when nobody needs me ?’, began with just piano and bass, and led to a balanced sax solo. Edana’s singing was with love, and projecting through the accompaniment as the words unfolded. Then Edana completely changed the mood (6) with a bluesy Bessie Smith number (though not trying to imitate her gravelly attack), where she brought out phrases such as ‘Wanna little sweetness down in my soul’, and let these suggestive appeals to ‘Daddy’ speak for themselves, so that the well-delivered lyric did the work for her : some singers can tend to suggest insufficient faith in the words, and the music that supports them, and so more can become less.

In the next song (7), Edana drew out the phrase ‘Half a love never appealed to me’, and was just backed by the bass, who gave us some slapped notes (and some harmonies that sounded a bit like the James Bond theme). Unlike Claire Martin’s recorded version, she chose to understate the impact, so that we could just concentrate on the duo, the melody against the chords in the bass.


The next two numbers (8, 9) were duets with Guillermo Rozenthuler, who had performed the shorter first set (and had had Edana as a guest for a song), the first ‘a sort of’ medley, where they felt very assured in each other’s vocal company, and then the team work of a song where they sang to and with each other. Both had solos, and Guillermo dazzled with his, in true scat style.

What I would draw from this is that it takes real class to be able to invite another performer to the stage and to fit into his or her style – it was clear from the anecdote told after the first song, about Edana visiting him for a singing lesson (and which unintentionally developed in a chaotically humorous way – the anecdote, that is), that the two know each other well, but that is not the point.

The proof was in the song that Edana said that June Tabor, heard live and recorded, had inspired her to sing (10), in which, after the liveliness of what had preceded, she was confident in respecting the feel of this simple song in the folk idiom. Sparsely accompanied by piano, and latterly by a tremulous flute, Edana gave the lyric its full meaning and weight, in an adept transition from the numbers with Guillermo.

The final song of the set (11) began with a slow introduction, where, with her strong diction, Edana was projecting the key notes, and developed into the more complicated rhythms of patter, which seemed all the faster for the held-back opening, and which she handled with assurance. Any slips in that sort of material are unforgiving, but there were none.

As an encore, Oasis, but in disguise, so the words ‘take that look from off your face’ took me unawares. At first, there were some Basseyesque qualities in Edana’s singing, and she was splitting notes across neighbouring ones for emphasis. Once I realized what the song was, it had a meditative quality in this arrangement (with tenor filling in the texture), and at this tempo, which made a good number on which to finish.


A thoroughly enjoyable and versatile set from a singer who has the ability and personality to go far.


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