SYO - The Masterworks

Last week I had the good fortune to attend Sydney Youth Orchestra’s third and final concert of the year, entitled The Masterworks, in Sydney Town Hall. As with the last concert, it was opened by the SYO Philharmonic presenting an overture by Wagner, this time the Rienzi. This was followed by Dvorak’s Cello Concerto in B minor and Brahms’ Fourth Symphony.

On the face of things, the Rienzi Overture is a curious choice for a concert called The Masterworks, as it comes from an early opera that is much less thought of than Wagner’s ‘masterpieces’. However, it is an impressive piece of work and bears all the traits that, to my mind, are characteristically Wagnerian. My own knowledge of the overture is interesting to note here too. In my late teens I bought many classical CDs sold in those wire bins department stores have for discount CDs and the like, including two collections of works by Wagner, who I then held as a favourite (blame Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd). I expected to have some overlap, probably from the Ring Cycle or Tannhäuser, but no, the only piece on both albums was the Rienzi Overture. So, even if the opera itself doesn’t do as well as Wagner’s later works, the overture remains a popular one for orchestras, and in the SYO Phil’s hands it was easy to see why.

Wagner is known for his use of themes, and for being grandiose, and the Rienzi Overture, in that sense, is very Wagnerian. The thing to remember is, for the grand moments to work, they must be balanced with sufficient pathos in between, and in those moments I think Wagner produced some of his best themes and thematic presentations. Working them in performance puts an orchestra to its limits, it must rise in subliminal glory, then sink back to gentle, without losing continuity or that Wagnerian vitality. The SYO Phil traversed the thematic shifts with aplomb, leaving us entranced and awed all at the right times. I always enjoy seeing the triangle come out in the percussion section, and I’m putting its role in this overture as the best triangle moment of the SYO’s concert year. That sounds trite, the triangle being the butt of so many jokes, but that’s why I love seeing it and hearing the extra effect it gives, which comes across more clearly in live performance.

Now, I’ve mentioned my love for Dvorak before, so I won’t go on about that here. The Cello Concerto was one of the first pieces of his I really knew – besides his ninth symphony of course – and his music’s place in my heart owes a lot to this. It was another of those discount albums that introduced it to me, I found it at the back of a Woolies in Bathurst … I know, weird, but clearly meant to be. It’s a very Bohemian work, not in the coloured skirts and crocheted ponchos sense you’ll find on Pinterest, but the style of classical music from Bohemia in the late 19^th century sense. Like Smetana’s Ma Vlast (My Country), there is a strong evocation of the natural landscape of Bohemia; soaring mountains and dark forests, matched with fields and friendly villages abound in my listening to much ‘Bohemian’ music. There are passages in the Cello Concerto which also remind me of Dvorak’s symphonic poems which tell of dark and tragic Bohemian folk stories, with wild and malevolent beings ruining people’s lives, but in such beautiful folkloric ways.

This performance captured all of that. This was no doubt helped, not only by the skill and passion of the soloist, Umberto Clerici, but also his obvious rapport with the orchestra. Between solo passages Clerici not infrequently looked at and to members of the string section with encouraging nods and appreciative smiles. And the orchestra clearly responded, as, with Clerici, they evoked the fantastic forests and mountains within my imagination and thrilled me with the highs, and made me swoon with the slower passages.

As an encore, Umberto Clerici performed a piece by Giovanni Sollima, who I believe he said he is friends with. It was a shortened version of the piece ‘Alone’ and it was truly electric. I mean that in the way it was alive, and energetic, and liable to jump like lightning arcs in unexpected but utterly spectacular and completely natural ways. Clerici apparently recorded it for an album produced by ABC Classics, I’ll let you know more when I’ve tracked that down.

The final piece is one I can claim no prior knowledge of, which is a terrible oversight on my part. One thing it definitely is, is a great work to end The Masterworks on. Aside from one slow movement, it is all Allegro. It is energetic and full of passion – indeed the final movement is Allegro energico e passionata – and the orchestra rose to meet the demands of this thrilling score. It also features a number of solo moments that allowed members of the orchestra to shine and all who were called on to do so, did so with appropriate verve and skill. It was a fitting finale to both a great concert and a wonderful year for the SYO, I’m honoured to have witnessed the concerts. 

Ambition and Virtuosity

Ambition and Virtuosity was an apt name for SYO’s latest concert as the pieces selected were certainly ambitious and all require their own virtuosic performances.

The concert in Sydney Town Hall (August 5) was opened by the Sydney Youth Orchestra Philharmonic under the guidance of Brian Buggy OAM. If the SYO was the Australian XI, the SYO Philharmonic is Australia A, but there was little to tell them apart in quality. Brian Buggy, in his stylish velvet jacket, leaned into the performance, moving his body as much as the baton, as he guided the young musicians through the Act I Prelude to Wagner’s Mastersingers of Nuremberg.

Any Wagnerian work is monumental and this overture is no exception. It isn’t as dark perhaps as some of his more overtly emotional pieces, but his thematic phrasing and orchestration are as expertly rendered here as in any of his most celebrated compositions. And none of the epic sound or drama was lost in this performance, an impressive feat for such a young orchestra.

But the star turn was next, the SYO with Naoko Keatley performing Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto. Naoko stood out boldly against the orchestra, partly because of her bright blue dress against the black of the ensemble, but mostly because of her playing. It is a tricky work, full of the sort of romantic passion Tchaikovsky is famous for, and completely demanding of virtuosity, and Naoko did not falter. Her bow flew, her fingers were a blur, and we were all held in awe. When it was the orchestra’s turn and she had a chance to rest, you could see her in the music. She didn’t appear to be just listening and waiting for her turn, she was feeling it flow around and through her. Then when her turn came, it continued to flow through her and into us, the lucky audience.

None of which is to suggest that the orchestra was remotely lacking, quite the opposite. Like most great concertos, Tchaikovsky’s demands as much of the orchestra as the soloist, and only if they succeed can the soloist truly shine. The SYO met the challenge. The music weaved its magic seamlessly; there were none of the little wavers I noted in their last concert, and they showed that with diligence and enthusiasm, youth is no barrier to great orchestral performance.

This was even more evident in the final piece of the night Dvorak’s Seventh Symphony. This was an ideal selection for a youth orchestra as it gives every section, and many individuals, a chance to shine. It also capped off the night well, all three works come from the late Romantic period, but carry their composers’ distinctive styles, all of which pack a punch. Dvorak is a personal favourite of mine, so I went into this concert with excitement and trepidation at hearing one of his symphonies. I need not have been concerned.

The seventh has all of Dvorak’s range of moods, even if they don’t reach the extremes of the transcendent ninth (my all-time favourite symphony), and this is expressed through the instrumentation, which is what made it such a good showcase work for this talented orchestra. Full professional orchestras may provide more polish, but they don’t have school to attend.

Their ambition was high, but they had the virtuosity to reach their goal. Bravo SYO!

Virtuosic Return

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart wrote his first symphony when he was eight. It’s still played by world-class orchestras today. Naoko Keatley did not write a symphony when she was eight. She did, however, play Bach’s Concerto for Two Violins in her debut with the Sydney Youth Orchestra. That’s no easy feat. To get some idea of how impressive that is, watch this clip of adults playing it. 

Before leaving the orchestra after completing school, Naoko also premiered the Matthew Hindson Violin Concerto, a very different but no less challenging piece of music. Clearly there was talent aplenty, and a passion to match in this young girl. The following is a recording of Naoko playing the first movement of the Hindson concerto with the New Zealand Orchestra under her maiden name (Miyamoto). 

Scintillating, right?

Her dedication remained and after studying at the National Conservatorium of Music she pursued her career in England, becoming a young member of the London Symphony Orchestra. She also performs in the Royal Opera House Orchestra, the Royal Philharmonic Concert Orchestra and a modern group, Riot Ensemble.

But Naoko hasn’t forgotten her roots and returns to Australia to perform in the Australian World Orchestra whenever she can. Now she returns to where it all started, and will be the soloist in the Sydney Youth Orchestra’s performance of Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto, part of their Ambition and Virtuosity concert. Having such a talented and successful alumni playing with the orchestra must be inspiring, and a good chance to learn from someone the young musicians can look up to, and relate with.

Tchaikovsky’s Concerto is a virtuosic piece, full of energy and verve, so Naoko will need all her talent, dedication and passion to master it. Somehow, I think she will. I look forward to finding out.

 

New Year, New Listening Project

I'm back. Thankfully the music never left.

I'm doing a new listening project and thought I'd write about it here. It's called Pieces I Must Heat at Least Once a Year. Describes itself really.

The first piece I listened to for it was Elgar's Cello Concerto because I heard a little bit of it on the radio and just wanted to listen to it in full. It's a piece I discovered on a whim. I was looking at a sales page on the ABC Shop online and there it was on an album by the Adelaide Symphony Orchestra. I knew I liked cello concertos and I didn't have much Elgar at the time so I thought, 'why not?'

The disc arrived, I ripped it (I wasn't listening to many CDs at the time) and put it on my mp3 player to listen to at work. So I was sitting at my desk, earphones in, and I hit play. Those first notes knocked me off my perch, then there was that falling phrase ... I was hooked.

The rest of the concerto, to me, is a journey away from and returning to that opening section. I couldn't say much about it to be honest. It's good, very good in fact, but that opening ... blows me away every time.

I think I bought the album the same year as the Classic 100 Music of the 20th Century on ABC Classic FM, so naturally I voted for the concerto among other things. At the time I thought I'd be helping push it up the rankings a bit - my ignorance apparently. It was a clear winner of the whole countdown and hardly in need of my help. I shouldn't have been surprised, it is a remarkable piece of work and that opening phrase does speak loudly of some of the pathos and melancholy of last century.

If you've not heard it, here is what many consider the best rendition of it (first movement anyway) by Jacqueline du Pre. It's amazing just to watch her.

Baroque Composers V - Tartini

Giuseppe Tartini (1692-1770) was an Italian composer and violinist just like Corelli and Locatelli before him. It appears however that music was not necessarily his first choice for a career. While he likely had basic music instruction in his youth it’s possible he only took up the violin when he was forced to flee Padua and seek protection in a Franciscan monastery.

The reason for this sudden departure was his marriage to a young woman, technically below his station, but a favourite of the local cardinal who promptly accused him of abduction. At least that’s what Wikipedia says, so it must at least be a story associated with him. Another is that after hearing a violin virtuoso he became so inspired to improve his own playing he fled the town he was in, where he had a job in the opera orchestra, to practice more freely.

The biggest legends around Tartini however are related to his most famous composition, the ‘Devil’s Trill’ Sonata. Its use of double-stop trills make it difficult to play even on modern instruments. Legend has it he wrote it after hearing the Devil play it at the end of his bed in a dream. A 19th century legend had it that he could play it because he had six fingers. I'm actually somewhat ambivalent towards it to be honest. The opening movement is slow and full of longing, then it launches into the virtuosity and it's just a nice bit of violin playing for a while, then some more longing with notes that hold you as they stretch and fade. I don't really get it as a whole piece.

I do enjoy his violin concertos though. Particularly this one in A, D96 which is here performed by Accademia Bizantina on period instruments. with Carlo Chiarappa on violin and conducting. It's not as showy as many concertos and mostly just a nice piece of music, but the second movement is a gorgeous adagio rather reminiscent of a leaf floating on a sunlit river if you go for such imagery.

The legends are fun but the music is better and well worth exploring - get listening!

Baroque Composers IV - Corelli and Locatelli

Arcangelo Corelli (1653-1713) was an Italian composer and violinist whose style of playing greatly influenced the performance of the instrument for years to come. He was born into a wealthy family and raised by his mother – since his father died a few weeks before he was born. Much of his life is confused by legend and anecdotes that have no evidence to back them up. We know he was in Rome by 1675 and there built an impressive career as a highly respected violinist. Interestingly however he didn’t like the high register and refused to play it.

Finding that out explains a fair bit about his Violin Sonatas, Op 5 which I recently bought the second half thereof from Classicsonline (it’s a set of 12 so there are two volumes). While demonstrating virtuosic elements throughout, they are much lower in tone than most violin pieces, which I find quite refreshing to be honest. The most famous part of them is No 12, which is known as La Folia, it is a one movement but as long as the others and it explores as much ground – if not more. It is a truly remarkable piece.

The lower register of the works also makes the slow movements that much more beautiful to my mind. He works the violin gently over the accompanying continuo or harpsichord to create a real sense of swoon (if you take my meaning). He even has a Sarabanda Largo; sarabandes are usually dances so this slow version is quite remarkable. It sounds at times like the violin part is being broken over the knee of the harpsichord, only gently.

His most famous composition however is his Concerto Grossi, a set of 12 concerto grossi which influenced a number of composers including Handel who wrote his own set instead of following the more modern (at the time) Venetian concerto popularised by Vivaldi. They’re best known because of the so-called Christmas concerto which is brilliant but the rest of them work equally as well. Here’s No 1 from the set. It opens with all the regal pomp you could expect of the age but soon goes into a questioning yet spritely phase that loses nothing of the ornamental beauty but is rich in feeling, if not deep emotion.

Pietro Locatelli (1695-1764) was another Italian violinist and composer who possibly studied under Corelli for a very short time just before Corelli’s death. He spent his early career in Rome , then spent five years travelling Italy and Germany before settling in Amsterdam for the last 30 odd years of his life. Strangely most of his compositions are from his travelling years; in Amsterdam he worked mostly as a teacher and performed publically and privately. In a nice quirk, he never allowed professional musicians into his performances lest they learn too much from him.

There aren’t a whole lot of works by Locatelli and they’re certainly not widely known these days. His Violin Sonatas and Concertos were virtuosic standards in Europe at the time however and he was quite famous as a consequence. I haven't heard much of them to be honest. This concerto (Op 3, No 12) is certainly very nice to begin with, then a couple of minutes in the violin begins some very interesting playing, quite unlike anything else I can think of in the Baroque/Classical repertoire. If that's typical of his works there's much to be explored here.

The first work I knew of his was actually his Opus 1, 12 Concerti Grossi. Of course, this was based on Corelli’s Concerto Grosso but there is a difference. Locatelli makes great use of the violin and string section, usually underpinned by harpsichord. There’s at least one movement where the organ and violin swim together through some beautiful refrains.

Both these composers are very Baroque, with precise playing and rich ornamentation. Corelli does evoke some emotions, particularly in his slower movements, but don’t have the depth shown in later periods. But the music is undeniably beautiful and rich. Well worth taking the time to explore, they also inspire me to find out more about similar composer/violinists of their day like Geminani, Torelli and Tartini who’s my next profile.

Baroque Composers III - Pergolesi

Giovanni Battista Pergolesi (1710-36) was an organist like my first two surveyed composers but also a celebrated violinist. Also unlike those two he didn’t work as an organist but mostly at the behest of aristocratic patrons. More tragically, he didn’t live very long, his ill-health led to an early death at only 26.

Despite that, Pergolesi is considered by some to be the ‘father of comic opera’, which may be a stretch but he was very successful with them and brought them further into the public domain to contend with opera seria. But his most famous work is his setting of the Stabat Mater, which is one of the best known, loved and influential versions of the work.

Listening to it is a special experience and if you haven't you should set some time aside to really let it carry you away. This performance by the Ricercar Consort is just under 40 minutes. From the opening chords it sets a not quite melancholic tone which transported me to a quiet river where willows weep. When the voices start I was catapulted into the exquisite sorrow of Mary. It really is a powerful work and it isn't all slow and melancholic, which only deepens the effect. Check the lyrics, this is a depressing hymn and Pergolesi captures the mood without throwing us down the well with it.

Of course he wrote much more than that. Being a violinist himself it's little wonder he wrote a fine violin concerto but perhaps a little surprising he wrote this lilting flute concerto which reminds me somewhat of Mozart's.

I'll finish this brief survey with a live performance of his Salve Regina by Accademia degli Astrusi with contralto Sara Mingardo. It's another powerful and moving piece, so give yourself a quarter of an hour to really enjoy it.

For someone who died so young, Pergolesi gave us some rich musical works, let's embrace them so his legacy continues to live centuries after him.

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!

Bach's Birthday

The Bach family was huge and there are plenty of composers bearing the name, but if we ever hear the name referred to by itself we all know which Bach we’re talking about, Johann Sebastian. An undeniable genius in his craft and one of the foundation stones of Western music. And it’s his birthday, so to celebrate here’s a YouTube clip of three of my favourite pieces by the man himself, starting with what must be one of the most dramatic and iconic of all solo organ pieces, the Toccata and Fugue in D minor. This often reminds me of the image of the austere and mysterious hermit who plays the organ in passion while hatching his mad schemes of revenge or world domination.

Next, the opening of the fourth Brandenburg Concerto. One of my earliest albums – a cassette – was of these concertos and they remain, in my mind, one of the greatest of all orchestral works.

Finally, what would the world be with JS Bach’s Cello Suites? Considerably poorer I believe and that much less peace. Here’s the prelude to No 1.