Showing posts with label Classical. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Classical. Show all posts
Monday, 23 July 2018
Snowmelt - Zoe Keating's New EP - a review
The opening chords of Zoe Keating's new ep evoke a stark icy landscape. This rapidly is broken up by rocks, then the life beneath emerging in a spring thaw. And this is just the beginning. Snowmelt is Keating's first new music in a few years, and comes with the byline, four songs for the end of a long winter, and the winter is definitely more than seasonal.
Zoe has been to the barren frozen lands of grief, even without knowing about her life, the sorrows of Icefloe, the second track, can only be created by someone who has spent time there. The tracks don't try to brush this off; a stay in such a place leaves permanent marks, but the music is a journey back through the tundra to the forests where I met Zoe on her last solo album (Into the Trees, 2010).
Touched, remembering, but alive and ready to continue the adventure. This is very clear in the deep, beating rhythms of Possible, the third song, which has flights of beauty over the resonating pulse; it is possible to escape the desert. The final track, Nix, is the relief of the end of the journey, the moment of rest before the next chapter begins.
In all, Snowmelt is a stunningly beautiful set of songs that gives solace and invites hope.
I listened to it on Bandcamp, it's also available on Spotify and iTunes.
Labels:
album review,
Cello,
Classical,
contemporary classical,
solo,
Zoe Keating
Wednesday, 16 May 2018
Belated Synthesis Review - Sydney Opera House February 13, 2018
This review is very late, mostly because of an interstate move following hard on the heels of the concert, but also, as I discovered while writing it, sometimes it's hard to find the words to describe an amazing experience.
Rock bands
teaming up with orchestras is nothing new. Even The Wiggles have done it, and I
note Eskimo Joe is doing it later this year with the TSO, my new state
orchestra. However, Evanescence has done something a bit different. Synthesis
isn't a one-time collaboration with one orchestra, it is a Herculean tour where
the band liaises with a new orchestra in every city it goes to. The organisers, and touring conductor Susie Seiter, probably deserve some sort of medal.
It's also more personal than the usual, ‘won't this sound
good’ team-up. Amy Lee has revisited many of the band's songs and synthesised
them with orchestral arrangements. The name of the album is more than apt, it
is a literal description of itself. Old material in new ways, and new material
with the old. That Lee was up for the challenge was evident; Evanescence has
included string sections and choirs since its first album, and she has composed
music for film in collaboration with Dave Eggar, who I'll talk more about in a
moment.
Of course, every rock concert has a support act, and in this
case its the respective orchestra, so before discussing Evanescence’s set I'll
mention this. It was a smaller version of the SSO, with the
addition of Sally Whitwell on piano and Dave Eggar on cello, and it was great
to see them all having so much fun. The set opened with a little night music of
Mozart’s, followed by some Moonlight by Beethoven. The latter was performed
admirably by Sally Whitwell, with the orchestra, an unusual and novel treat for
this most famous of piano sonatas. The arrangement was by Georgi Cherkin, a Bulgarian concert pianist I'll have to investigate further. It was also
interesting to hear a version of Verdi’s Lacrymosa, from his Requiem, without a
choir. The Lacrymosa is a clear influence on Amy Lee who references it in the
front of her song of the same name. Indeed, the entire opening set was music Lee
has mentioned as having an influence on her work, which added another personal
dimension to the concert. The set concluded with Dave Eggar’s Rockstar cello
performance of Bach in Black, which was as fun to watch as to listen too.
Once Lee walked onto the stage, in a stunning green gown, it
was clear she had the presence to own the entire concert hall, but she never
claimed it. This was a collaboration and her very demeanour allowed for the
band and orchestra to share her spotlight. But when she sings, it’s a tricky
thing not to be enamoured. Evanescence’s first album helped me through some
dark times, and songs like Lithium from their second album did too. Part of the
reason for that is the emotional integrity behind the music; Lee doesn’t sing
of pain from some abstract idea or a desire to sound emo to be popular as a
musician. Nor does her music whinge like some popular balladists seem to do
these days. Her music is that of her soul, the pain is real, but she isn’t complaining,
merely singing through the darkness, often finding light through the music.
Hearing that, with orchestra, in person, was an experience I find difficult to
describe. Perhaps that is why this review has taken so long to be written. And
perhaps that’s why I have little more to say. In that concert hall with
hundreds of other people, Amy Lee sang my darkness, and called to my light.
Sounds ridiculous written like that, but it was a personal experience I can’t
describe any other way.
To finish I’ll mention one other thing. It was great to see
in this huge, rock meets classical event, three strong women in the key
positions on the stage. Amy Lee, of course, Susie Seiter conducting the whole affair with
aplomb, and Sally Whitwell, first as soloist in the orchestra’s set then playing
piano in places where Lee usually does herself in performances without
orchestra.
If a chance comes by to go to Synthesis, go – I realise that’s
not likely any more. Give the album a whirl though. And go to live music
events, there really is a difference to hearing recorded stuff. And keep
exploring.
Labels:
Classical,
David Eggar,
Evanescence,
Reviews,
Rock,
Sally Whitwell,
Sydney Symphony Orchestra,
Synthesis
Tuesday, 10 January 2017
Joy of Russian Piano II - A Modernist and a Classicist
Continuing from yesterday, today I listened to two 'Russian' (more accurately Soviet) composers who I haven't heard much of before. The first one, Galina Ustvolskaya, I'd never heard of before, but she was under 'Related Artists' on Spotify's page for Shostakovich, of whom she was a student and who defended her music when it was attacked for its modernism (see Spotify's page About Galina Ustvolskaya). I listened to her 12 Preludes but I must admit they didn't capture me entirely, although at times they were quite moving. I can understand why she was attacked for 'modernism', but I don't think that's a bad thing, you just have to be in the mood for the discord.
Going back, I found Reinhold Gliere, who's name I knew but nothing else. There's a collection of his piano music performed by Anthony Goldstone and you can hear it on Spotify here. Gliere's music is much less 'modern' and is really quite charming. It's well worth listening to, even if few of the pieces stand out. I added the first of his 25 Preludes and the second of the 3 Mazurkas to my new Dancing Piano playlist, (which will continue to grow), but the rest blend into a delightful background piano set. There is more emotion in the 12 Esquisses, particularly the Agitato, but again there's nothing that really grabbed me.
As the music continued beyond that album however I accidentally discovered his 8 Pieces, Op 39, for violin and cello. These are beautiful short pieces in a number of styles. The cello provides a deep base over which the violin skates and twirls. The Gavotte in particular took me off to that lovely space where there is only music and the light of your own stilled thoughts. If you take nothing else from this blog, follow this link to the album. It also has pieces for cello and for two cellos. The Ballad, Opus 4, is like a mini cello sonata and quite beautiful, while the 10 Duos (for two cellos) range from sweeping slow movements to rapid pieces. The slow movements are the best in my opinion, particularly the Andante, as they have more emotion than the others. Finally, the 12 Pieces, for Cello and Piano, are sumptuous works that highlight the emotional power of the two instruments together, a wonderful collection.
Keep exploring!
Going back, I found Reinhold Gliere, who's name I knew but nothing else. There's a collection of his piano music performed by Anthony Goldstone and you can hear it on Spotify here. Gliere's music is much less 'modern' and is really quite charming. It's well worth listening to, even if few of the pieces stand out. I added the first of his 25 Preludes and the second of the 3 Mazurkas to my new Dancing Piano playlist, (which will continue to grow), but the rest blend into a delightful background piano set. There is more emotion in the 12 Esquisses, particularly the Agitato, but again there's nothing that really grabbed me.
As the music continued beyond that album however I accidentally discovered his 8 Pieces, Op 39, for violin and cello. These are beautiful short pieces in a number of styles. The cello provides a deep base over which the violin skates and twirls. The Gavotte in particular took me off to that lovely space where there is only music and the light of your own stilled thoughts. If you take nothing else from this blog, follow this link to the album. It also has pieces for cello and for two cellos. The Ballad, Opus 4, is like a mini cello sonata and quite beautiful, while the 10 Duos (for two cellos) range from sweeping slow movements to rapid pieces. The slow movements are the best in my opinion, particularly the Andante, as they have more emotion than the others. Finally, the 12 Pieces, for Cello and Piano, are sumptuous works that highlight the emotional power of the two instruments together, a wonderful collection.
Keep exploring!
Labels:
20th Century Masters,
Cello,
Classical,
Galina Ustvolskaya,
Pianists,
Preludes,
Reinhold Gliere,
Russian music,
Spotify
Monday, 9 January 2017
The Joy of Russian Piano Music - At least sometimes
I'm kicking off my classical music listening this year with some Russian piano music from last century. I started with Prokofiev's Piano Sonatas 2 and 9 performed by Ilya Yakushev in a new recording only released this year. You can find it on Spotify here.
They had what I consider Prokofiev's typical joy, with the appropriate jarring qualities for such a figure. Both sonatas were full of life and rollicked along under Yakushev's expert fingers. Prokofiev may knock you from your comfortable listening position to sit up and take notice, but he certainly never bores you.
Following that I went for some Shostakovich and found Volume 2 of the complete music for piano duo or duet. First up on the album the piano duet version of his Piano Concerto No 2. This was an upbeat piece for Shostakovich, also full of life and not without its listening challenges, but it is much smoother than Prokofiev's works. The second piece is an arrangement of Shostakovich's Symphony No 15 for piano duet. It's as monumental as that suggests, with intricate sections of what must be highly fiddly finger work and grand moments of high playing. And of course some of Shostakovich's humour comes through as the opening movement has the galop from Rossini's William Tell Overture as a recurrent theme. The second movement throws a much darker mood out, reminding us of the difficulties both these composers faced in their lives. The pianists on the recording are Min Kyong Kim and Hyung Jin Moon, and they are faultless in both the virtuosity and the emotion of the works. You can find that one on Spotify here.
After my long absence I hope to present little blogs like this more often this year, but there are no promises. Either way, remember to keep exploring the wonderful world of music as much as possible.
They had what I consider Prokofiev's typical joy, with the appropriate jarring qualities for such a figure. Both sonatas were full of life and rollicked along under Yakushev's expert fingers. Prokofiev may knock you from your comfortable listening position to sit up and take notice, but he certainly never bores you.
Following that I went for some Shostakovich and found Volume 2 of the complete music for piano duo or duet. First up on the album the piano duet version of his Piano Concerto No 2. This was an upbeat piece for Shostakovich, also full of life and not without its listening challenges, but it is much smoother than Prokofiev's works. The second piece is an arrangement of Shostakovich's Symphony No 15 for piano duet. It's as monumental as that suggests, with intricate sections of what must be highly fiddly finger work and grand moments of high playing. And of course some of Shostakovich's humour comes through as the opening movement has the galop from Rossini's William Tell Overture as a recurrent theme. The second movement throws a much darker mood out, reminding us of the difficulties both these composers faced in their lives. The pianists on the recording are Min Kyong Kim and Hyung Jin Moon, and they are faultless in both the virtuosity and the emotion of the works. You can find that one on Spotify here.
After my long absence I hope to present little blogs like this more often this year, but there are no promises. Either way, remember to keep exploring the wonderful world of music as much as possible.
Labels:
20th Century Masters,
Classical,
Pianists,
Piano Concerto,
Piano Sonatas,
Prokofiev,
Russian music,
Shostakovich,
Spotify
Thursday, 8 May 2014
Voting is Open
Well, the final voting list is up and voting has commenced. I totally missed the nomination period so I can’t complain about any absences I would have liked to see on there but it’s a big selection, quite varied and presents some areas for me to explore, which is always exciting.
I have to admit, as a pedant who obsesses over lists I do have some issues with the list. Some of them are true pedantry as some entries are in different formats than others. One puzzling entry is Louis Couperin’s Pieces de Clavecine…. The subeditor in me (that’s my paying job) reviles the fourth dot in the ellipsis, the rest of me just wonders what the ellipsis means. A quick look on Wikipedia tells me his works weren’t published in his lifetime but he wrote a lot of music for the harpsichord. It appears that perhaps the ellipsis means the entry is for the sum total of his keyboard compositions, which seems somewhat strange.
In a roundabout way that brings me to my main issue with the list, some entries are for huge swathes of composition while others are for succinct pieces. If for example we can vote for Louis Couperin’s entire solo harpsichord output as one thing, why must we vote for specific Keyboard Sonatas by Scarlatti, none of which is longer than three minutes? Of course, there is no grouping of Scarlatti’s sonatas like Francois Couperin’s ‘Books’, but there isn’t for Louis’ either beyond collecting them all under one title.
Perhaps the most obvious example for me is that the Brandenburg Concertos are all listed separately yet everywhere else such groups are listed as one piece. Handel’s Concerto Grossi Op 6 No 1-12 for instance and his three Water Music Suites which are simply listed as Water Music (that’s the pedant in me I know). Even worse would be Rameau’s Pieces de clavecin en concert, which are unrelated works written over a number of years that just happen to be, essentially, harpsichord concertos. Why would such distinct works be listed as one when the Brandenburgs are six?
On another point of pure pedantry, the Pieces de clavecin en concert are listed as ‘Solo instrument’ despite being concertos.
Pedantic asides aside, I do find some of those listings annoyingly inconsistent. It’s not going to hugely detract from the experience and I’m definitely enjoying exploring the music and pondering my voting options. And I look forward to the final countdown with proverbial bate all over my breath. But the consistency would be nice.
As to what I’ll be voting for, the shortlist is still forming but there are some early favourites. I’m somewhat torn when it comes to JS Bach; I want to spread the love among composers again and only vote for one piece each, but that leaves me with deciding between his Cello Suite No 1 and Toccata and Fugue in D minor. The latter has been with me since before I can remember, but the former is breathtakingly beautiful.
Handel is somewhat easier for me. There are parts of two of his oratorios I’d possibly vote for by themselves, but I don’t want to vote for the whole works so they’re out. Which leaves me with his Concerto Grossi Op 6 and Music for Royal Fireworks to decide between.
Vivaldi is another problem; I love The Four Seasons but they’re surely going to do fine as they are – although I predict his Gloria will be his top ranked piece. That leaves me with choosing one of his other pieces, almost certainly a concerto but which one?
Other frontrunners are Corelli’s Concerto Grossi, although I’ve recently discovered his Violin Sonatas and they’re wonderful so there’s another choice. Tartini’s Violin Concerto in G is another recent discovery I’m enjoying immensely.
Hmm. There’s a lot more to be considered. I’ll keep you informed.
Keep exploring!
I have to admit, as a pedant who obsesses over lists I do have some issues with the list. Some of them are true pedantry as some entries are in different formats than others. One puzzling entry is Louis Couperin’s Pieces de Clavecine…. The subeditor in me (that’s my paying job) reviles the fourth dot in the ellipsis, the rest of me just wonders what the ellipsis means. A quick look on Wikipedia tells me his works weren’t published in his lifetime but he wrote a lot of music for the harpsichord. It appears that perhaps the ellipsis means the entry is for the sum total of his keyboard compositions, which seems somewhat strange.
In a roundabout way that brings me to my main issue with the list, some entries are for huge swathes of composition while others are for succinct pieces. If for example we can vote for Louis Couperin’s entire solo harpsichord output as one thing, why must we vote for specific Keyboard Sonatas by Scarlatti, none of which is longer than three minutes? Of course, there is no grouping of Scarlatti’s sonatas like Francois Couperin’s ‘Books’, but there isn’t for Louis’ either beyond collecting them all under one title.
Perhaps the most obvious example for me is that the Brandenburg Concertos are all listed separately yet everywhere else such groups are listed as one piece. Handel’s Concerto Grossi Op 6 No 1-12 for instance and his three Water Music Suites which are simply listed as Water Music (that’s the pedant in me I know). Even worse would be Rameau’s Pieces de clavecin en concert, which are unrelated works written over a number of years that just happen to be, essentially, harpsichord concertos. Why would such distinct works be listed as one when the Brandenburgs are six?
On another point of pure pedantry, the Pieces de clavecin en concert are listed as ‘Solo instrument’ despite being concertos.
Pedantic asides aside, I do find some of those listings annoyingly inconsistent. It’s not going to hugely detract from the experience and I’m definitely enjoying exploring the music and pondering my voting options. And I look forward to the final countdown with proverbial bate all over my breath. But the consistency would be nice.
As to what I’ll be voting for, the shortlist is still forming but there are some early favourites. I’m somewhat torn when it comes to JS Bach; I want to spread the love among composers again and only vote for one piece each, but that leaves me with deciding between his Cello Suite No 1 and Toccata and Fugue in D minor. The latter has been with me since before I can remember, but the former is breathtakingly beautiful.
Handel is somewhat easier for me. There are parts of two of his oratorios I’d possibly vote for by themselves, but I don’t want to vote for the whole works so they’re out. Which leaves me with his Concerto Grossi Op 6 and Music for Royal Fireworks to decide between.
Vivaldi is another problem; I love The Four Seasons but they’re surely going to do fine as they are – although I predict his Gloria will be his top ranked piece. That leaves me with choosing one of his other pieces, almost certainly a concerto but which one?
Other frontrunners are Corelli’s Concerto Grossi, although I’ve recently discovered his Violin Sonatas and they’re wonderful so there’s another choice. Tartini’s Violin Concerto in G is another recent discovery I’m enjoying immensely.
Hmm. There’s a lot more to be considered. I’ll keep you informed.
Keep exploring!
Labels:
ABC,
ABC Classics,
Baroque,
Classic 100,
Classical,
concerto,
Corelli,
Francois Couperin,
Handel,
Harpsichord,
JS Bach,
Louis Couperin,
Rameau,
Vivaldi
Monday, 21 October 2013
Beethoven Sonata Course in Reflection
The course on Beethoven’s Piano Sonatas finished up recently. It was a fun and insightful series of lectures and if it runs again I recommend doing it. Aside from learning about Beethoven and his music you get to listen to snippets of works played by Jonathon Biss and that’s well worth it too (here's a sample).
So what did I learn? Quite a bit to be honest and I’m not going to go into all the detail and everything here. What I want to talk about is how the course helped shape something of my idea of the history of music because I’ve come to see Beethoven as a pivotal figure in ways I didn’t understand previously.
I studied a course on the Ancient Greeks at the same time as this one and in it was discussed that history works out in big forces and movements – migrations, economic upheavals etc, etc – but there are also certain individuals who manage to alter the course of history through sheer force of will or some similar manifestation of their brilliance. Alexander the Great was one standout example.
From what I learned in the Sonata course this is also very much the case. There were big movements taking place during Beethoven’s lifetime, but his talent and his unrelenting personality played their own role in shaping music’s path heading into the 19th century.
At the beginning of his lifetime music was still largely a court affair. Joseph Haydn spent most of his career in the employ of one such court; he wrote what his employer wanted, he managed the court’s musicians etc. Late in his life his employer did give him incredible freedom and allowed him to write what he wanted instead. Mozart, unable to cope with the strictures of being a court composer tried his hand as a freelancer but with variable success.
The way was becoming clear however and courts were no longer the bastions of classical music. If we consider the social and political upheavals that were happening at this time, it’s little wonder Beethoven never had to consider being employed as a court musician. He was free from the beginning to do his own thing. The individual was free.
And free from such constraints, Beethoven’s talent and strong personality led him to explore musical forms in all new ways. He took the sonata form, perfected it, toyed with it to test its limits, then tore it apart and reshaped it in his own way. He broke all the rules and paved the way for further experimentation down the track. And he allowed music to truly ambitious and completely about self-expression. He could paint emotional landscapes freely in ways previous composers could not and in so doing he set the Romantics up to do what they did.
So while history’s big movements were most certainly in play – it’s one of the most dramatic shifts in Western history in all fields of endeavour – Beethoven’s individuality and precocious talent shifted the history music very much to follow his footsteps and no-one else’s.
So what did I learn? Quite a bit to be honest and I’m not going to go into all the detail and everything here. What I want to talk about is how the course helped shape something of my idea of the history of music because I’ve come to see Beethoven as a pivotal figure in ways I didn’t understand previously.
I studied a course on the Ancient Greeks at the same time as this one and in it was discussed that history works out in big forces and movements – migrations, economic upheavals etc, etc – but there are also certain individuals who manage to alter the course of history through sheer force of will or some similar manifestation of their brilliance. Alexander the Great was one standout example.
From what I learned in the Sonata course this is also very much the case. There were big movements taking place during Beethoven’s lifetime, but his talent and his unrelenting personality played their own role in shaping music’s path heading into the 19th century.
At the beginning of his lifetime music was still largely a court affair. Joseph Haydn spent most of his career in the employ of one such court; he wrote what his employer wanted, he managed the court’s musicians etc. Late in his life his employer did give him incredible freedom and allowed him to write what he wanted instead. Mozart, unable to cope with the strictures of being a court composer tried his hand as a freelancer but with variable success.
The way was becoming clear however and courts were no longer the bastions of classical music. If we consider the social and political upheavals that were happening at this time, it’s little wonder Beethoven never had to consider being employed as a court musician. He was free from the beginning to do his own thing. The individual was free.
And free from such constraints, Beethoven’s talent and strong personality led him to explore musical forms in all new ways. He took the sonata form, perfected it, toyed with it to test its limits, then tore it apart and reshaped it in his own way. He broke all the rules and paved the way for further experimentation down the track. And he allowed music to truly ambitious and completely about self-expression. He could paint emotional landscapes freely in ways previous composers could not and in so doing he set the Romantics up to do what they did.
So while history’s big movements were most certainly in play – it’s one of the most dramatic shifts in Western history in all fields of endeavour – Beethoven’s individuality and precocious talent shifted the history music very much to follow his footsteps and no-one else’s.
Labels:
Beethoven,
Classical,
Coursera,
Haydn,
Jonathon Biss,
Musical History,
Piano Sonatas,
Romantic,
Study
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