Concert review

Concert review, File Under?, jazz, Piano

Fred Hersch Trio Live at the Village Vanguard (concert review)

Fred Hersch Trio.
Photo: John Rogers.

Fred Hersch Trio

Village Vanguard

January 5, 2019

Sequenza 21

By Christian Carey

 

NEW YORK – Beginning the new year with a six-night long residency at the Village Vanguard, pianist Fred Hersch had a lot to celebrate. His current trio, in which he is joined by bassist John Hebert and drummer Kevin McPherson, has been together for a decade. They have received a Grammy nomination for their 2018 Palmetto Records CD Live in Europe. In December, Palmetto released another recording of Hersch in a trio setting, this one from 1997 with bassist Drew Gress and drummer Tom Rainey. 97 @ The Village Vanguard is the only live recording of this acclaimed ensemble. The CD also documents Hersch’s debut as a leader at the Village Vanguard.

 

Many celebrations include guests and Hersch’s residency was no exception. For the last three nights of shows, alto saxophonist Miguel Zenón, a Grammy nominee himself and a Guggenheim Fellow and MacArthur Award winner to boot, joined the trio. It proved to be a felicitous pairing. After the trio opened the set with Hersch’s meditative “Plainsong,” Zenón joined them on the pianist’s salsa original “Havana,” sending its sinuous melody soaring and building an exquisitely paced solo. Hebert and McPherson created a fulsome groove. McPherson’s ability to move from the pianissimo textural playing of “Plainsong” to the driving polyrhythms of “Havana” demonstrated versatility that turns on a dime. Hebert keenly targeted his playing too, moving between registers, engaging in melodic colloquy with Hersch, supporting the changes, and acting in concert with McPherson. All of this is even more noteworthy when one considers his uncanny ability to know exactly when and where to provide Hersch’s playing registral space.

 

Hersch’s music is often rhythmically intricate. In addition to the facility of the rhythm section, Zenón proved his mettle in the abstract phrasing and polyrhythmic environments of Hersch tunes “Snape Maltings” and “Skipping.” The latter tune elicited a verve-filled solo from Hersch. The pianist and saxophonist also made great foils for each other, one developing melodic breadcrumbs that the other had strewn in a previous solo. Zenón’s playing had a bite in the post-bop material, but was smooth and suave in the Lerner and Loewe’s “I’ve Grown Accustomed to Her Face.” Zenón’s composition “Temes” was an engaging part of the set, and it was fascinating to hear Hersch go to town on material new to him, displaying  a vivid imagination.

Hersch frequently writes compositions in homage to other jazz artists. “Lee’s Dream” is a contrafact tune, using the changes of Nacio Herb Brown’s “You Stepped Out of a Dream” with a new melody. It is dedicated to Lee Konitz. “Monk’s Dream” is dedicated to Thelonious Monk. During his set at the Vanguard, Hersch had Monk in mind. The closer was a one-two punch of the pianist’s harmonically inventive version of “Round Midnight,” followed by the group playing a rousing rendition of “Let’s Cool One.” Obliged by applause to share an encore, Hersch chose Billy Joel’s “And So it Goes,” starting in eloquent simplicity and then transforming the tune with intriguing modulations into a Chopin-esque reverie. The sold-out crowd seemed delighted to share in the celebrations.

 

by Christian Carey
Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Los Angeles, Percussion

WasteLAnd Concert at Art Share in Los Angeles

The latest wasteLAnd concert at Art Share in downtown Los Angeles was Friday, December 14, 2018 and drew a good sized crowd for five works featuring percussion and voice. Soprano Stephanie Aston and percussionists Dustin Donahue, Sean Dowgray and Ryan Nestor were on hand for a concert whose title, Capacity, was taken from the middle movement of a work by wasteLAnd featured composer Katherine Young.

The first piece on the program was Difficulties Putting it Into Practice, by Simon Steen-Andersen. Ryan Nestor and Sean Dowgray arrived on the stage and seated themselves at a table containing a number of paper sheets and cardboard scraps, along with two microphones. They each picked up a sheet of cardboard that had been cut with evenly-placed vertical slits and began blowing as they moved these back and forth horizontally. The result was something like a puffing steam engine, with intriguing variations arising from their relative synchronization and breathing patterns. Vocal tones were added, along with chattering teeth and occasional whistling or humming to create an amazingly varied assortment of sounds. All of this was accomplished with any common pulse or beat, although at times there seemed to be coordination while other stretches had a more random character. Towards the end Nestor and Dowgray were heard scribbling loudly on some sheets of paper, like office workers stuck behind their desks on a sunny day. Difficulties Putting it Into Practice is a marvelously resourceful work, conjuring all manner of sounds from simple materials, and performed with a convincing flair by Nestor and Dowgray.

Adiantum-Capillus Veneris, by Chaya Czernowin followed, a piece for solo voice performed Stephanie Aston. This began with slow, thin breaths of air streamed over the microphone, like the whisper of a breeze in some remote canyon. Soft rising tones were heard, and despite singing with her mouth closed, Ms. Aston produced a delicate and beautifully pure sound that added to the sense of isolation. A deep breath of air followed, then more high, thin tones sung faintly, but with flawless intonation and pitch control. Adiantum-Capillus Veneris invites close listening, and the audience was drawn willingly into its private spaces by Aston’s masterfully understated realization.

Next up was Urlicht, by Richard Barrett. Nestor and Dowgray were joined by fellow percussionist Dustin Donahue, all stationed behind vibraphones with assorted drums, cymbals and bells. Urlicht began with a short series of strong tutti chords on the vibraphones that clanged loudly like large bells before softly decaying into the silence. The vibraphone plates were then bowed at all three stations, creating a dreamy, mystical feel. The bowing continued, filling the air with a lovely, rarefied mist of sound. At one point some short, thin wires welded to what seemed to be an old trombone mute were also bowed, sending out a needle-sharp high note that soared satisfyingly to the top of the texture. The playing at low dynamic levels and the coordination between the players was superb.

As all this bowing continued, solitary mallet notes appeared, like welcoming streetlights in a thick fog. Stronger vibraphone tones followed, then some drumming and cymbal clashes. At one point, a long cardboard tube wrapped with twine was stroked with a stick, and this sent a series of short, sharp rattles into the air. The sounds gradually became more powerful and more fully percussive, with complex passages passed back and forth among the players. A huge crash was followed by a return to the quiet bowing of the vibraphone plates completing the piece. Urlicht is an exquisite showcase of vibraphone bowing and contrasting percussion, skillfully performed for this concert and enthusiastically received.

Releasing Bound Water from Green Material, by Katherine Young followed the intermission. Ms. Young is the wasteLAnd featured composer for this season and her three-movement piece included videos projected over a large array of gongs, vibraphones and other percussion pieces that crowded the stage. The opening movement, “Binding-Releasing I,” was accompanied by a blurry video of what seemed to be a turtle swimming in shallow water. The music coming from the percussion stations was spare and otherworldly, as if we were observing some alien habitat. Several ominously loud strikes on the gongs signaled the end of this movement, foreshadowing an unspecified peril to this innocent ecosystem.

“Capacity”, movement II, was even more unsettling. The video displayed a close-up of a bubbling cauldron full of unidentifiable clumps of matter and noxious vapors. Tones from the gongs increased independently, becoming more and more complex, adding to the sinister atmosphere. Powerful drum beats were heard and a sudden snare roll increased the tension. The fluid in the cauldron was now boiling off while the percussion sounds became more disconnected and intense. The final images of a barren, slag-filled surface seen through waves of shimmering heat was truly frightening and a metaphor for the dire predictions of climate change. The final movement “Binding-Releasing II” had a much quieter, almost desolate feel, full of soft atmospherics. The video was of a rotating machine with wooden gears, as if civilization had retreated to a primal technology. Releasing Bound Water from Green Material is a compelling premonition of our vulnerability in a problematic future.

The final piece in the concert program was Five Songs, by Andrew McIntosh, performed by the three percussionists and Ms. Aston. The five sections were short, just a few minutes each, but all were very expressive. The first opened with a strong chord from both vibraphones and a two-note soprano phrase that hovered lightly overhead. There was nothing loud or flashy in any of this, and the ensemble was informed with a pleasing restraint. Other sections, by turns, felt isolated, remote, questioning or mystical – but all were poised and balanced. The last section managed to be optimistic and comforting at the same time, especially in the spare soprano line and bowed vibraphone tones that quietly concluded this elegant collection of Five Songs.

The next wasteLAnd concert at Art Share LA will be Master of Disguises: Voices, instruments, love songs on February 16, 2019 at 8:00 PM.

by Paul Muller
Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Los Angeles

Scott Worthington, Hex Vocal Ensemble at Monk Space

The December Tuesdays@Monk Space concert was titled Grinding Sounds, Repeating Patterns and Sonorous Incantations and was curated to take advantage of the friendly acoustics of Monk Space for just such music. As Aron Kallay noted in the program notes: “Not every hall is good for every combination of instruments and in many ways Monk Space takes this to the extreme. Two things the space absolutely loves are low strings, and voice.” Accordingly, Scott Worthington was on hand with his electrified contrabass and the Hex Vocal Ensemble provided the sonorous incantations.

The first piece was I Feel Pretty, by David Lang, for acoustic or amplified double bass. Worthington’s bass was fitted with a pickup that fed directly into a PC. Sounds from the bass were recorded, processed and then broadcast from the speakers on-stage after a delay of a second or two. The opening double-stopped phrases were low, rough and gnarly as well as absent of melody. The speakers multiplied the deep texture so that it was almost as if the audience were confronted by a growling bear. At times the piece gathered itself into a nicely pulsating groove, and there were often intriguing harmonies that arose between the acoustic bass and the process electronics in the speaker. David Lang is generally known for his sensitive and empathetic music, but I Feel Pretty seemed to be joyfully the opposite. As expertly realized by Worthington, I Feel Pretty was a reminder that beauty need not be delicate to be appreciated.

Next up was Mint Conditioner by Alexandra Gardner, also for doublebass and accompanied by recorded samples from the speakers. This opened with a deep creaking sound, as if a large rope or cable were being drawn taut. This established a feeling of tension as Worthington’s acoustic bass entered with sustained low notes followed by rapid passages. The speakers then issued a series of otherworldly tones that were musically complimentary, but at the same time in stark contrast to the earthy timbre of the bass; it was an encounter of the primal with the far future. At times, the piece had a jazzy, African feel that developed a gentle groove, masterfully conjured by Worthington. Towards the end, the acoustic and recorded sounds blended together with a broad, soothing feel that turned just a bit sorrowful at the finish. Mint Conditioner skillfully blended recorded sounds with live acoustic playing, with the result often greater than the sum of its parts.

Home, by Jenny Olivia Johnson followed and this opened with slow, double-stopped tones. The electronics were configured to process the acoustic sounds, then loop them through the speakers with a one or two second delay. The low notes added an element of sadness while the electronics contributed a somewhat bleary sensibility. Various sounds followed, including some rough, sawing noises and a series very high pitches that stood out like screams from the otherwise dense texture. As the piece proceeded the drama increased, and a number of amazing effects were produced by Worthington and the computer. At the finish, high screaming tones dominated, a fitting climax to the ever-rising tension. Home is one long crescendo, artfully constructed and adroitly played. Worthington’s efforts were met with sustained applause.

After the intermission the Hex Vocal Ensemble took the stage to perform – a cappella – the Sonorous Incantations section of the program. Hex specializes in music from, and inspired by, Meredith Monk. Their first piece was After persimmons by Li-young Lee, composed by Carolyn Chen, which opened with long soprano phrases followed by the lower voices entering in counterpoint. At times, the soaring phrases by the soprano arced brilliantly overhead while the other voices continued with independent melodies. The interweaving of the various lines was precisely sung and resulted in an intriguing and constantly changing surface texture. After persimmons by Li-young Lee is beguiling music which took full advantage the vocal finesse of the Hex Ensemble.

Hee-oo-hm-ha, by Toby Twining was next, and this had a bright, up tempo and contemporary feel with vocalise in place of words. The strange syllables and phrases were crisply delivered and generally infectious. There were stretches of full harmony at times, but the sunny optimism and rhythmic groove of Hee-oo-hm-ha was pleasantly reminiscent of doo wop street singing. Strong applause followed this piece.

Dolmen Music, by Meredith Monk, followed with cellist Gina Kodel joining the singers on stage. Dolmen Music is normally learned and sung by rote, but the Hex Ensemble had notated the entire 25 minutes of vocal parts. High, thin pitches from the cello began the piece with a remote, windswept feeling as if we were in some distant and barren landscape. The higher voices entered with a sound like the far off howling of coyotes in the desert night and the lower voices answered with garbled phrases. There were no intelligible words in any of these passages and the Hex Ensemble convincingly created the sense that we were witnessing the primal incantations of an ancient culture. As the piece progressed, variations emerged in the vocal sounds including rhythmic syncopation, broad tutti stretches in full harmony, conversational passages between groups of voices and strong solos. The cello was often tacet, but deep double-stopped chords and extended techniques were regularly mixed into the vocal flow. The vocal lines were often independent and complex, but all were successfully navigated by the Hex Ensemble. At the finish, all were heard in full voice, creating a powerful climax. Dolmen Music and the Hex Ensemble delivered up a unique musical sound world, full of fundamental passion.

The final work in the program was Music for people who like the future, by Andrew Hamilton and this opened in a series of declarative passages with repeated words. It was a difficult to make out the text – it was part yelling, part cheering and part singing – all in a wonderful mix of sounds. A strong beat kept the piece on course, adding to an insistent and urgent feel. The tempo and volume increased towards the finish; a reminder that the future will not arrive quietly. Music for people who like the future brought a hopeful measure of confidence to what seems, these days, to be such a bleak uncertainty. The Hex Ensemble provided the needed flair and enthusiasm for this welcome message and sustained applause followed.

The next concert at Monk Space will be on January 8, 2019 and feature performances by the Grammy Award-winning ensemble PARTCH.

by Paul Muller
Composers, Concert review, File Under?, Minimalism, New York, Piano

Simone Dinnerstein in Recital at Miller Theatre

Photo: Lisa Marie Mazzucco.

 

Simone Dinnerstein in Recital

Miller Theatre – Columbia University

December 8, 2018

Published on Sequenza21.com

By Christian Carey

 

NEW YORK – On Saturday, December 8th, pianist Simone Dinnerstein made a return appearance to Miller Theatre to perform an intriguing and eclectic solo recital. The stage was set with subdued lighting, with electric “candles” placed throughout and, over the course of the evening, small shifts of color. Ms. Dinnerstein, dressed in elegant, flowing attire, created an atmosphere through her performance demeanor as well. The recital was announced with no intermission and the pianist paused from playing only once, midway through, to acknowledge applause and take a brief break. However, by otherwise starting each piece immediately after the final notes of the one it preceded, she communicated clearly that this was not to be an event in which musical continuity would be broken by applause between numbers. Thankfully the audience complied, mutually agreeing to allow the atmosphere to envelop them too.

 

Dinnerstein played two pieces by the Eighteenth century harpsichord composer Francois Couperin, one at the beginning and another right before the break. This is the first time she has programmed the composer. Her approach to Les Barriades mystérieueses was sonorous, eschewing ornamentation in favor of unadorned, shapely melodies. Like the Goldberg Variations, the second piece required interlacing the hands to play everything on the piano keyboard that would have required two manuals on the harpsichord. Le Tic-Toc-Choc, ou Les Mallotins featured motoric clockwork and brisk filigrees that were an excellent foil for the Philip Glass work that immediately preceded it.

 

Mad Rush (1979), one of Glass’s best known piano pieces, was first composed for the organ at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, where the composer performed it for an appearance by the Dalai Lama. Arranged for piano, the piece is forceful and filled with contrasts. Its delicate passages were played with a spacious sense of breath by Dinnerstein, while the more emphatic central section in piece’s the repeating loop was performed powerfully with fleet-fingered accuracy. Last year, Dinnerstein’s account of Glass’s Third Piano Concerto was impressive; here, she made a further case for a place in the pantheon of Glass pianists. Contrast played a large role in Dinnerstein’s rendition of Robert Schumann’s Arabesque. Once again, she emphasized the breath between phrases, allowing the audience a sense of deft transition between the various emotive sections as they unspun.

 

Erik Satie’s Gnossiene No. 3 received the mysterious performance its ambiguous markings and lack of bar-lines evokes. One part cafe music and another modal Impressionist excursion, the piece was rendered with an evasive, lilting quality.

The pianist, in general, avoids overt and flashy displays of hyper-virtuosity, preferring instead to pick distinct places in which she allows her playing to be unrestrained. Dinnerstein’s performance of Schumann’s Kreisleriana provided several excellent opportunities for effusive virtuosity, and they seemed all the more special for the way that the pianist set them in relief against the more contemplative portions of the work. Fleet arpeggiations flew and the fugal passage in the final movement was a brisk cannonade.

 

Dinnerstein’s aforementioned penchant for allowing the music to breathe, as well as the atmosphere she created for her performance, encouraged a normally bustling New York audience to truly slow down and breathe themselves: a welcome respite during the busy holiday season. When the encore she favored them with was not some barnstormer but instead a reprise of Les Barriades, allowing the program to come full circle, it seemed entirely appropriate.

 

by Christian Carey
Composers, Concert review, Opera, Premieres

György Kurtág’s “Samuel Beckett: Fin de partie” at La Scala

[Ed. note: Former S21 contributor, member, and friend David Salvage has in the last couple years pulled up his U.S. tent pegs and landed in Italy. He’s offered up his review of the latest György Kurtág premiere last month at La Scala.]
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After decades of prodding, false starts, intense study, delays, and, finally, seven years of composing, György Kurtág, at age ninety-two, has written his first opera. For its subject matter, he has chosen Samuel Beckett’s Endgame, a play he saw during its initial run in Paris in 1957 and has loved ever since. World premieres don’t get any more hotly anticipated than this, and it was a privilege to be in attendance for the opera’s final performance at the Teatro alla Scala in Milan.

Endgame takes place on one of the last days of an imperious invalid named Hamm. As he sits in his wheelchair, he gives his servant, Clov, half-pointless tasks to do, like reporting on what’s outside the windows or pushing him around the room. Stuck in the same space are Hamm’s parents, Nagg and Nell, who live in two trashcans, having lost their legs years earlier in a biking accident. There is little food left for the four of them, and outside lies a bleak landscape of post-apocalyptic desolation.

While Kurtág’s work will inevitably be referred to simply as Fin de partie, its complete title is worth keeping in mind. The opera is actually called Samuel Beckett: Fin de partie and bears the subtitle “scenes and monologues, opera in one act.” By including Beckett’s name in the title, Kurtág connects the work with his earlier Beckett setting, Samuel Beckett: What is the Word; with the subtitle, he suggests that the present is something formally more open than a traditional opera.

The result bears out both title and subtitle. The original version of What is the Word is for singer and piano, and the piano doubles the singer note for note without contributing additional harmony or counterpoint. A similar closeness marks Kurtág’s approach to the singers and orchestra in Fin de partie: while the orchestration is vast and colorful and adds harmony to the vocal lines, emphasis to the stage action, and commentary on the text, principally, the instruments serve to double the vocal lines, making for an almost monadic work that is intensely expressive. Indeed, this is the miracle of Fin de partie: Beckett’s play is quirky, intimate, and subtle—in other words, not material readily suitable for operatic adaptation. And yet Kurtág’s music captures the text’s many mercurial shifts in tone while remaining nothing if not coherent and compelling. As much as any opera in history, Fin de partie finds that magical ground where song, speech, and tone are united. Rather than an end of anything, I found it to be a beginning, an opera rich in new possibilities for composers to come.

It is with the opera’s subtitle, however, where Kurtág seems less surefooted. In creating a libretto of an appropriate length, he has very significantly reduced the role of Clov. By doing so, Kurtág has weakened the play’s dramatic heart: the complex interdependence of a master and his servant. These cuts make some important moments in the opera’s second half come out awkwardly. When Hamm laments that a stuffed dog is not in fact real, the statement is a bit baffling because Kurtág has the cut the play’s sad and comical stuffed-dog scene (which involves Clov).  When Hamm thanks Clov for all he has done for him, we might be similarly puzzled, since in the opera he does little for his master (crucial scenes mentioned above involving the windows and the wheelchair ride are also cut). Strangely, Kurtág also omits the parts where Hamm asks Clov whether it’s time for his painkiller; in the play, Clov always says that it’s not time; at the end, he finally reveals to Hamm that there is no more painkiller left. In the opera, we only get this final exchange: the result is a sudden outburst that lacks catharsis. And in the opera, Clov’s long concluding monologue (prompted by Hamm to say something “from the heart”) seems more like a set-piece than the expression of things long unspoken.

By attenuating the play’s central conflict, Kurtág’s Fin de partie becomes less unified—more “open”—than Beckett’s original. As a result, it prioritizes the expression of inwardness over the realization of drama. As the opera goes on, the monologues take over, and the drama becomes more and more suspended. Of course, monologues can heighten drama; but this depends on the characters’ being insightful about themselves, others, or their situations. Beckett’s aren’t, and he wisely never lets their stories, musings, or ramblings dominate for too long in the play.

While I loved every note of Fin de partie and found the music’s force such that I’ve had trouble composing ever since seeing it, I remain puzzled as to what was gained by the approach Kurtág took: reducing Clov cuts into the play’s very core, and giving the monologues free reign is the wrong approach for this material. (I have some speculations about this, but I’ll save them for the comments section.)

Meanwhile, what remains is a grand achievement—a new opera at an extraordinarily high level. Those who stuck their necks out to make Fin de partie happen—Alexander Pereira, sovrintendente of La Scala, perhaps foremost among them—deserve our respect and gratitude. However problematic it might be, this is a work that bestows honor on any institution who decides to mount it or any musician who participates in its performance.

by David Salvage
Choral Music, Commissions, Concert review, Contemporary Classical, early music, File Under?, New York

Tallis Scholars Premiere Nico Muhly in Midtown

Tallis Scholars. Photo: Nick Rutter.

Tallis Scholars: A Renaissance Christmas

Miller Theatre Early Music Series

Church of St. Mary the Virgin

December 1, 2018

Published on Sequenza 21

By Christian Carey

 

NEW YORK – The Tallis Scholars, directed by Peter Phillips, made their annual appearance in New York as part of Miller Theatre’s Early Music series at the Church of St. Mary the Virgin in Midtown. The program was billed as a dual celebration — the 45th anniversary of the Tallis Scholars and Miller Theatre’s 30th anniversary season.

 

In honor of the occasion, Miller Theatre commissioned a new piece for the Tallis Scholars by composer Nico Muhly. Muhly has, of late, garnered a great deal of attention for two Metropolitan Opera commissions  — Two Boys and Marnie — but he often talks about his first love being choral music (he began his musical career as a chorister). Muhly’s choral works are exquisitely crafted and texturally luminous. Rough Notes (2018), his new piece for the concert at St. Mary’s, took its texts from two diary entries by Robert Falcon Scott, written near the end of his ill-fated voyage to Antarctica. The first excerpt describes the aurora australis, providing words such as “arches, bands, and curtains”  that are ripe for colorful musical setting. The second was Scott’s stoic expression of confidence in his team’s ability to accept their impending deaths with dignity. Muhly’s use of lush cluster chords in the first section gave way to more sharply etched, but still glinting, harmonies in the second, as well as poignantly arcing melodies. The divided choir of ten voices was skilfully overlapped to sound like many times that number. It is always fascinating to hear the Tallis Scholars switch centuries, and thus style, to perform contemporary repertoire; for instance, their CD of Arvo Pärt’s music is a treasure. One hopes that they might collaborate on a recording with Muhly in the future.

 

The rest of the program was of considerably earlier music, but ranged widely in chronology. The earliest piece was an elegant and under-heralded Magnificat setting by John Nesbett from the late Fifteenth century that is found in the Eton Choirbook. Chant passages give way to various fragments of the ensemble that pit low register vs. high for much of the piece. It culminates by finally bringing all the voices together in a rousing climax. The Tallis Scholars has, of yet, not recorded Nesbett, but Peter Phillips has committed the Magnificat to disc in an inspired performance with the Choir of Merton College, Oxford (The Marian Collection, Delphian, 2014).  

 

Palestrina’s motet Hodie Christus natus est, and the eponymous parody mass which uses this as its source material, were the centerpiece of the concert. The motet was performed jubilantly and with abundant clarity. The mass is one of Palestrina’s finest. He took the natural zest of its source material, added plenty of contrapuntal elaborations, and made subtle shifts to supply a thoughtful rendition of the text. Although we are, in terms of the liturgical calendar, in the midst of the reflective period of Advent, being propelled forward to the midst of some of the most ebullient yet substantial Christmas music of the Renaissance was a welcome inauguration of the season.

 

The two works that concluded the concert dealt with different aspects of the Christmas story. William Byrd’s Lullaby is actually quite an unsettling piece; its text deals with the Slaughter of the Innocents as ordered by Herod. One is left to imagine the infant Jesus being consoled by Mary and Joseph in the midst of their flight from persecution. Byrd composed it in the Sixteenth century (it was published in 1588), but Lullaby was the piece on the concert most tailored to this moment, evoking concerns of our time: the plight of refugees, the slaughter of innocent bystanders by acts of senseless aggression: particularly the vulnerability of children to indiscriminate bombing abroad and the epidemic of gun violence in our own country.

 

The last piece returned to a festive spirit and brought the Tallis Scholars to the cusp of the Baroque with Hieronymus Praetorius’s Magnificat V with interpolations of two carols: Joseph lieber, Joseph mein and In dulci jubilo. During the Christmas season, interspersing carols and sections of the Magnificat was a standard practice in Baroque-era Lutheran churches; J.S. Bach might even have done so in the services he led at St. Thomas Church in Leipzig. Praetorius plus two carols gave the Tallis Scholars an opportunity to share three of their most-performed Christmas pieces. From seemingly effortless floating high notes to sonorous bass singing, with tons of deftly rendered imitative passages in the inner voices, the group made a glorious sound. One eagerly awaits their return to New York during their 46th season.

 

by Christian Carey
Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Los Angeles

Garlands for Steven Stucky in Santa Monica

The Soundwaves new music series and Piano Spheres teamed up to present Garlands for Steven Stucky, a concert of piano music performed by Gloria Cheng. Steven Stucky was a long-time composer in residence at the Los Angeles Philharmonic, and his untimely death in 2016 touched his many friends here deeply. Garlands for Steven Stucky is a memorial tribute in the form of a CD album of short piano pieces contributed by no less than 32 students and musical colleagues. Each piece is short – just two or three minutes – and this concert at the Santa Monica Public Library offered a preview prior to a full concert scheduled for Zipper Hall on November 27.

A short video was shown prior to the concert describing Stucky’s academic career and residency at the LA Phil. Esa-Pekka Salonen and Deborah Borda spoke highly of his accomplishments and the warm personal connections he enjoyed with his colleagues. The video also outlined the Steven Stucky Composer Fellowship Fund, intended to help composition students who are just beginning their study. Proceeds from the Garlands for Steven Stucky CD will benefit this fund.

Gloria Cheng then introduced the music of Steven Stucky by way of playing movement 1 of Album Leaves (2002), a series short piano pieces he described as “ … in the nineteenth-century mold of Schumann, Chopin, or Brahms.” This opened with a simple five-note melody that seemed to hang mysteriously in the air, followed by more complex passages that fluttered like a flock of restless birds. A series of darker, enigmatic passages in the lower register added to the magical atmosphere just prior to a quiet ending. This short piece set the tone for the sampler of musical memorials that comprised the balance of the concert.

Two former students of Steven Stucky, now UCLA Music Dept faculty and in attendance, were asked to describe his influence as well as their contributions to the album. Kay Rhie, a student of Stucky while at Cornell, spoke of his generosity, curiosity and wide-ranging interests outside the arts. Ms. Cheng played Rhie’s Interlude, which bore some resemblance to the Album Leaves piece, sharing its subdued and enigmatic character. David S. Lefkowitz described his piece, In Memorium, as a soggetto cavato – or carved signature – using the letters in Steven Stucky’s name to determine the opening notes. This resulted in a simple, declarative melody of strong notes that seemed freighted with sorrow. Complex variations followed in the lower registers, which turned dramatic prior to the repeat of the opening melody, and a quiet fade-out. Both pieces were suffused with veneration and genuine affection.

Esa-Pekka Salonen contributed Iscrizione and this opened with a spare line of single notes that unfolded into more complex passages, tinged with a sense of anguish and loss. A deep rumble in the bottom registers added a sense of sadness, followed by a quietly moving farewell at the finish. Capriccio by Julian Anderson followed, and Ms. Cheng explained that Anderson’s intention was simply to write something that Steven Stucky might have enjoyed. Accordingly, this piece was more optimistic with light, rapid strings of notes that bubbled upward. Skittering sounds followed, both charming and delightful, as if a mouse was scampering about on the keyboard. The dynamics and tempo increased until a dramatic crash of chords at the finish slowly dissipated into the air.

Four other piano pieces were performed by Ms. Cheng to close out the concert. Steven Mackey contributed A Few Things (in memory of Steve), a lighthearted interchange between quick, bright phrases as if holding a conversation with pleasant company. Inscription, by Pierre Jalbert followed with complex and fast passage work, a fond remembrance of the Stucky wit. Judith Weir’s Chorale, for Steve was perhaps the closest to church music, full of airy introspection at the opening and ending with the power and simplicity of a simple hymn. The final piece was Glas by Daniel S. Godfrey, opening with great booming chords that brought to mind cathedral bells, then continuing with a series of quietly thoughtful stretches full of grandeur and grace.  Glas was the perfect piece to close out the concert.

Garlands for Steven Stucky is a powerful testimony to the esteem and affection held for Steven Stucky by all those who contributed to this remarkable album. Ms. Cheng has done a great service to organize and flawlessly perform all 32 works for the CD. This preview concert was an opportunity to appreciate how much Steven Stucky has meant to our musical community and how much he will be missed.

Garlands for Steven Stucky is available from Amazon and iTunes.

 

by Paul Muller
Choral Music, Concert review, early music, File Under?

Stile Antico at St. Mary’s (concert review)

Stile Antico
Photo: Marco Borggreve

Stile Antico in Concert

October 13, 2018 Church of St. Mary the Virgin

By Christian Carey

 

NEW YORK – The first concert in Miller Theatre’s 2018-19 Early Music Series, given in midtown at the Church of St. Mary the Virgin, presented the acclaimed choral group Stile Antico from the UK. They have made regular appearances on the Miller series. As is their custom, Stile Antico sang without a conductor in a semicircle facing front. The occasional setup change consists of singers changing formation and, in pieces in which the full ensemble isn’t required, “extra” singers sit down.

 

They sing vibrantly and expressively with a sumptuous sound. The concert program, titled “Elizabeth I, Queen of Muses,” brought together masterworks of Tudor era polyphony and continental repertoire that had passed through the monarch’s orbit. Several of the latter group of works were taken from a gift from one of the Queen’s suitors, Erik XIV of Sweden: a partbook that included pieces by Lassus, Willaert, and Sandrin. The latter’s chanson Doulce Memoire was particularly fetching, performed with gentle grace. The group also sang three solemn and stolid penitential psalm settings by Alfonso Ferrabosco the Elder, an Italian composer who was a member of the Elizabeth’s court, paid a handsome salary for music and, some say, espionage.

 

English music formed the bulk of the program. It included a piece from early in the sixteenth century, Tavener’s  Christe Jesu Bone Pastor, filled with brightly articulate slices of homophony and soaring passages of imitation. From the other end of the chronological spectrum, early in the seventeenth century, Stile Antico offered jaunty renditions of two of John Dowland’s best known ayres: “Now, O now I needs must part” and “Can She Excuse my Wrongs.”

 

The choir is one of the best on the planet for works by Tallis and Byrd. Several of these were performed, capturing a gamut of emotions. Byrd’s “This sweet and merry month of May” is a jubilant madrigal greeting to Elizabeth, while his Attolite porta is a richly attired setting of Psalm 23. “O Lord Make thy servant Elizabeth” is an extraordinary piece, and Stile Antico rendered its elaborate Amen cadence with fulsome power and beauty. Ne irascaris is another facet of Byrd’s art. A recusant Catholic, he composed a collection of motets with texts both coded and charged with defiance. Clearly Byrd was graced with Elizabeth’s favor, otherwise he would have been unlikely to get away with daring pieces like Ne irascaris. The Tallis selection on the program was his worshipful, declamatory Abserge Domine. I could have done with three more Tudor motets and no Ferrabosco, but that’s quibbling.

 

The concert concluded with a group of madrigals written in honor of Elizabeth, taken from “The Triumphs of Oriana,” a collection of 25 madrigals by 23 composers. After sterling renderings of “The lady Oriana” by John Wilbye (Oriana is a poetic title for Elizabeth) and “Fair Nymphs I heard one telling, the last, “As Vesta was, from Latmos hill descending,” by Thomas Weelkes, displayed the group’s vocal prowess at its finest, with high-ranging lines and overlapping melismatic passages converging to thrilling effect. Stile Antico’s annual visits to New York could easily be double or trebled: they have developed a strong following here and the reasons for this were amply demonstrated on 13 October at St. Mary’s.

 

  • Christian Carey writes regularly for Tempo, Musical America, and Sequenza 21.
by Christian Carey
Chamber Music, Classical Music, Composers, Concert review, Concerts, Contemporary Classical, Seattle

Abrahamsen’s Schnee at Seattle Symphony’s [untitled]

Thomas Dausgaard conducting members of Seattle Symphony in Abrahamsen: Schnee (photo: James Holt/Seattle Symphony)

[untitled] is the moniker given by Seattle Symphony to its thrice-annual Friday night new music events. Staged in the lobby of Benaroya Hall, it’s a semi-formal atmosphere in which the Symphony can deploy its musicians in smaller groupings better suited to the exigencies of postmodern music. The first [untitled] concert of the new season took place on October 12, and featured the regional premiere of Hans Abrahamsen’s Schnee, offering listeners in the Pacific Northwest an opportunity to judge how well this work has earned the considerable attention it has received in its brief ten-year lifetime.

Scored for two piano quartets (one conventional, the other with woodwinds instead of strings) flanking a central percussionist, this hour-long piece is officially a chain of ten canons conceived in pairs. But don’t bother looking for Row, Row, Row Your Boat-style rounds. Abrahamsen’s vision of musical canons ranges from relatively straightforward imitation between two voices in stretto…

From Canon 2b (other instruments omitted)

…to rhythm-only canons, to cases where the only trace of a traditional canon is the successive entries of similar lines:

(click to enlarge)

It’s probably easiest to think of the canons as a set of ten segued movements in which each instrumental group stays within a tight-knit band of musical material. An important structural characteristic of the piece is that these canons get progressively shorter, starting with 8–9 minutes allotted to the distended Canons 1a and 1b, and ending with the fleeting Canons 5a and 5b, lasting a minute apiece (audio links and the YouTube embed above are from the work’s only commercial recording, by ensemble recherche).

Accompanying this process of diminution is a corresponding process of detuning where the string instruments, then the woodwinds, shift their intonation downwards by 1/6 and 1/3 tones so that they gradually go out of tune with the pianos. Mikhail Shmidt, violinist for the [untitled] performance, likens the effect to melting. Such a reliance on “dirty” intonational clashs—most prominent in Canons 5a/5b—reflects the influence of Abrahamsen’s teacher, Ligeti. In a particularly imaginative stroke, three Interludes are inserted as composed tuning breaks to allow the musicians to effect the retuning without a break:

Ritual orchestral tuning is often satirized, and audiences will occasionally mistake tuning for an actual piece, but there is little precedent for written-out retuning occurring in the middle of a composition.

Schnee of course means snow in German (curiously favored by this Danish teutophile over his native sne), and this hour-long work is a suitably frosty and brittle affair. It begins and ends in the extreme treble register, and its overall sound world is dominated by white noise effects suggested by the title’s initial consonant. The score calls for scratchy bow noises, the application of Blu Tack to muffle piano strings, and frequent “half-breath” effects on the woodwind instruments (which in the case of the contralto flute and bass clarinet seem to have been specifically chosen for their breathy quality). The percussionist’s job mainly alternates between rubbing writing paper on a smooth surface and rubbing wax paper on a rough surface, the task broken up only by the use of sleigh bells in Canons 4a/4b and a single tamtam stroke at the end of Canon 3b. Other noise effects show the influence of Lachenmann, most notably his piece Guero, whose technique of gliding fingernails across the piano keyboards is directly borrowed in Schnee.

The very first canon fulfils the evocative trajectory of the title, beginning on a repeated violin harmonic on an A♮ that’s so high, you mainly hear bowing noise (the score says “like an icy whisper”, though North American listeners might find it inadvertently reminiscent of a certain cinematic shower scene). Pentatonic white note tinkerings in the 1st Piano’s top octave soon enter (E-A-F-D-E is a prominent pattern), and one might wonder if this will be a characteristically long and static exposition of European postminimalism. But the complexity increases as the canons proceed, reaching an apogee in the third canon pair where the harmonies are atonal, the rhythms unmetered, and the pitch range fully extended to the bass register (intensified by tuning the cello’s lowest string from C down to G). The process then reverses in the last two canon pairs, and we eventually revert to the white note pentatonicism of the opening. It’s the simultaneous revelation of both arch-like vectors (range and complexity) and straight-line vectors (length and detuning) as the work progresses that gives Schnee such dramatic impact.

The influence of Feldman is often close at hand in Abrahamsen’s music, and it’s quite obvious in Schnee’s Canon 3b. But a different parallel can be found with Feldman’s Three Voices, a unique and uncharacteristically texted and beat-driven work from 1982 that in its repetitions, quirky metricality, overall length and architecture based on concurrent unfolding of both linear and arch-shaped processes, is a tantalizing predecessor to Schnee. It even features as its sole lyric this most apropos poetic snippet by Frank O’Hara:

                      Who’d have thought
                                                                         that snow falls

Schnee is the kind of piece that can die in a too-dry space, but [untitled]’s idiosyncratic venue is just live enough to avoid this pitfall. Being designed as an entry and reception point rather than as a performance space though, it does come at the cost of an omnipresent background rumble from the building’s HVAC system. This often overwhelmed the subtle piano resonance effects and smeared the rhythmic definition of the percussionist’s paper shuffling (both prominent in Canon 3b). But the piece would have gotten lost in either of the two conventional concert spaces at Benaroya Hall, and the capable ensemble, drawn from regular Seattle Symphony musicians with frequent adjuncts Cristina Valdés and Oksana Ezhokina handling the piano parts, managed to traverse the work’s rhythmic complexities with no trace of strain or sloppiness.

They also did something perhaps more remarkable: avoiding the temptation, especially in the excitement of live performance, to play this music too loudly, too quickly and too brashly. Abrahamsen’s bleak snowscapes, like Varèse’s deserts, are those of the mind as much as of nature. What this piece needs is not so much the brisk extroversion of Ludovic Morlot, but a healthy dose of Scandinavian reserve, which it received under the conducting of Thomas Dausgaard, who will assume Morlot’s role as Music Director next season. In this performance, the first of this piece for any of the evening’s musicians (including Dausgaard), we perhaps have a glimpse of the direction that the Symphony’s programming will take under Dausgaard’s leadership.

Hans Abrahamsen (photo: Lars Skaaning)

Abrahamsen, born in 1952, presents an unusual musical example of a late career breakthrough. He started out as a Danish representative of New Simplicity, but much of his music from that period now seems rather…simplistic. After a Schoenbergian decade of relative silence, Abrahamsen reemerged with a more synthetic style that elevated his international profile to the degree that he can now be reasonably considered the most prominent living Danish composer other than the venerable Per Nørgård (1932–).

The best survey of Abrahamsen’s career arc is the Arditti Quartet’s recording of his String Quartets 1–4, whose dates range from 1973 to 2012 (this album was one of my favorites of 2017). His recent hits include some orchestral songs for Barbara Hannigan and a concerto for piano left hand, but these works seem less distinguished to me measured against the formidable European corpus of modernist orchestral music. It’s Schnee, completed in 2008, that continues to stand as Abrahamsen’s masterpiece, comparable in scope and ambition to Haas’ In Vain, and likewise exemplifying the alloy of exploration and consolidation that characterizes the most accomplished of contemporary European art music. Its reputation as one of the classics of the young 21st century (advanced by the likes of Paul Griffiths, who chose it to conclude the current version of his book Modern Music and After), was given powerful witness by Dausgaard and the Seattle Symphony musicians.

The score to Schnee is available online here.

by Michael Schell
Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Los Angeles, Women composers

wasteLAnd Opens Season Six in Los Angeles

Season six of the wasteLAnd new music concert series began on Friday, October 5, 2018 at Art Share LA in downtown Los Angeles. Katherine Young is the featured composer this season and her work was front and center in a program consisting of three of her pieces, including a world premiere. Ms. Young stated in the liner notes that “…each of these pieces to different degrees and in different ways blur out of linear ‘musical’ forms and into sonic meditations through the use of drone, saturating textures, and/or spatialization.” The ample Art Share space was filled to capacity with an expectant audience, despite the brutal Friday night traffic.

Ms. Young’s first piece was Earhart & the Queen of Spades, performed by Nicholas Deyoe on electric guitar. Deyoe was surrounded by an imposing array of foot pedals, cables, assorted amplifiers and a table full of found objects, including several small personal fans. As the piece began, Deyoe switched on the fans and when they were held near the guitar pickup, a soft, thin whine could be detected. The flexible rotating fan blades were next applied directly to the guitar strings and this produced a powerful roaring, much like a motorcycle revving up. These sounds were looped, processed and piled one on another until a great sonic mountain seemed to fill the performance space. A steel slide was used on the strings to change the pitch of the roaring, and Deyoe’s deft control of the intonation was notable. All of this proceeded without a steady pulse or beat as more objects were applied to the guitar. A broad plastic card produced some especially powerful riffs and a pearl necklace was pulled across the guitar strings, yielding a series of distinctively ragged pulses. The wide variety of sounds was unexpected and surprisingly intense; Deyoe was all over the instrument and his feet were in constant motion pressing foot pedals with a masterful choreography. Earhart & the Queen of Spades ended quietly with a return to the buzzing fan blades held just off the guitar pickup, and switched off one by one. Cheering and a loud ovation ensued for a fine performance.

Underworld (Dancing) followed, and this featured Matt Barbier on euphonium and Wells Leng playing a rare Wurlitzer on loan from Tim Clark. Underworld (Dancing) began with a series of long, mournful growls in the euphonium accompanied by soft tones in the Wurlitzer. The extremely low register was expertly negotiated by Barbier, especially given that the piece was originally scored for tuba. The two parts were mostly unconnected, allowing for ample improvisational freedom, and the result was an intriguing mixture of timbres and tones. At times the Wurlitzer broke into brief snatches of melody that approximated a dance tune while the deep rumbling in the euphonium provided a solid, visceral punch. The low, dark tones suggested a large, powerful animal and the Fafnir dragon leitmotif from Wagner’s Ring Cycle came briefly to mind. Underworld (Dancing) conjured much imagery from just two instruments, and evoked a convincingly exotic world in sound.

After the intermission the concert concluded with the world premiere of Biomes 1.0. Matt Barbier returned with his euphonium,  accompanied by Weston Olencki on trombone. The composer also joined in, playing bassoon. The piece involved a full compliment of electronics and lights so that the stage was covered with various boxes, keyboards and tangles of cable. Biomes 1.0 began with a loud rushing sound in the electronics and bright lights flooding the performance space. The instruments produced clusters of uninhibited grunts and growls, adding to a dynamic atmosphere, as if deep in a forest habitat. The lights were suddenly extinguished, and as the space plunged into darkness,  soft tones floated quietly out of the euphonium and electronics. This understated feel made for a stark contrast with the first section and suggested an almost liquid environment. The deep, languid sounds were perfectly realized in the low registers of each instrument. The lights returned, accompanied by more electronic scratching sounds, along with some amazing tones from the horns. As the piece proceeded, the stage was alternately lit and darkened and the sounds changed accordingly. At one point, colored lights pulsed separately in each corner of the stage. In another section, a chain was slowly lowered on to a snare drum head, adding an intriguingly subtle percussive element. Perhaps the most impressive stretches consisted of long, low tones coming from the horns and bassoon. Ms. Young has a fine sense of what works in these lower ranges – each part was well-placed and balanced nicely against the electronics. There were some beautiful mixtures and timbres heard, also a credit to the solid sense of ensemble. A long, low crescendo followed by a soft fade-away concluded the piece. Biomes 1.0 is an impressive composition of lights, electronics and instruments that captivates with beauty and by the masterful use of the very lowest tones. A long and enthusiastic ovation followed.

The fund raising efforts at wasteLAnd have proven successful enough to make admission to the first three concerts of the new season free of charge. Their goal is to extend this for the balance of the season and those willing to donate are encouraged to contact them via their website.

The next wasteLAnd concert at Art Share LA will be on November 16, 2018 and will feature Ashley Walters and the Arperture Duo.

by Paul Muller