tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1868736591225365182024-03-13T21:12:25.534+00:00Orchestra of the Swan’s blog<br>Behind the scenes with <b>Orchestra of the Swan</b> (OOTS) – featuring previews, interviews, & other orchestral insights – produced by <b>Stephen</b>, Writer-in-Residence.The Bard of Tysoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09091547499313505033noreply@blogger.comBlogger40125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-186873659122536518.post-80308778757428566102018-11-20T23:55:00.000+00:002018-12-26T10:26:32.064+00:00Michael Collins plays Mozart:Themes and variations<p><a href="https://orchestraoftheswan.org/events/michael-collins-plays-mozart-at-stratford-artshouse/" target="_blank">4 December 2018: Stratford Play House</a><br>
<a href="https://orchestraoftheswan.org/events/michael-collins-plays-mozart-at-the-royal-birmingham-conservatoire/" target="_blank">5 December 2018: Royal Birmingham Conservatoire</a></p>
<ul>
<li>Igor Stravinsky – Concerto in D for string orchestra ‘Basle’</li>
<li>Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Clarinet Concerto in A major, K.622</li>
<li>Igor Stravinsky – Concerto in E flat for chamber orchestra ‘Dumbarton Oaks’</li>
<li>Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Symphony No.40 in G minor ‘Great G minor Symphony’, K.550</li>
</ul>
<p>Today’s concert is a rich demonstration of just how broad the classification – and content – of ‘classical’ music can be. Stravinsky’s paired concertos are Neoclassical (1920-1950, or thereabouts); and their inspiration and form stem mainly from the Baroque period (approximately 1600-1750). Mozart (1756-1791), of course, is held up by many as the very model of a Classical (1750-1820 or so) composer; but – especially at the outset of his life and career – was, of course, <i>also</i> indebted to the works of Bach, Handel, Lully, etc..</p>
<p>However, it did not take long for young Wolfgang to stretch the categorization of his output and dig the foundations of what would become to be known as the Romantic (roughly 1780-1910) – despite Britten claiming that “A certain rot… set in with Beethoven”. Nor, listening to Bach’s <i>Goldberg Variations</i>, is it difficult to find such defining personal passion and self-centred sentiment within, or to be intensely moved by them. All of which only goes to show why the above numbers (apart from Mozart’s) <i>are</i> so very “thereabouts”, “approximately”, “or so”, and “roughly”; and may explain why Descartes once opined that “Perfect numbers like perfect men are very rare…” – although Hamlet’s written claim to Ophelia that “I am ill at these numbers” may be much more accurate!</p>
<p>The case I am trying to make is that Mozart – despite, to that “many”, being just the creator of memorable melodies (such as lies at the centre of today’s heartbreaking <i>Clarinet Concerto</i>) – not only crossed musical divides; but, in many cases, actually <i>invented</i> them. And the ‘Great G minor Symphony’, which closes the concert, is the perfect demonstration of that: evoking Classicism and Romanticism, and predicting Serialism, all in the space of around twenty-five minutes. In other words, his music is all his own; it defies (or at least pushes back at the boundaries of) classification… – although there is no doubt in my mind that his <i>œuvre</i> can be labelled that of a genuine genius.</p></br>
<p><i>PS: Even defining the overarching term ‘classical music’ can be laborious; but I am happy to accept Wikipedia’s – that it is “Art music produced or rooted in the traditions of Western culture, including both liturgical (religious) and secular music”. If you think you know, and/or can do better, <b>please email your suggestion to <a href="mailto:writer@orchestraoftheswan.org" target="_blank">writer@orchestraoftheswan.org</a> with the subject ‘Definition’</b>. The best entry will win two complimentary tickets for a concert of your choice, and will be published in the next programme.</i></p></br>The Bard of Tysoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09091547499313505033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-186873659122536518.post-62745266128075771002018-10-19T23:44:00.000+01:002018-11-29T23:48:08.942+00:00Tai Murray plays Mendelssohn:Themes and variations<p>2 November 2018: The Courtyard, Hereford<br>
6 November 2018: Stratford Play House<br>
7 November 2018: Royal Birmingham Conservatoire<br>
8 November 2018: Cheltenham Town Hall</p>
<ul>
<li>Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Overture, ‘The Marriage of Figaro’</li>
<li>Felix Mendelssohn – Violin Concerto in E minor, Op.64</li>
<li>Felix Mendelssohn – Sinfonia for Strings No.6 in E flat major</li>
<li>Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Symphony No.25 in G minor, K.183</li>
</ul>
<p>Reviewing a performance (by OOTS, of course) of “The six movements extracted from Mendelssohn’s version of <i>A Midsummer Night’s Dream</i>”, in May 2016, I contended that the composer I have subsequently named my cat after…</p>
<p><blockquote><i>…was an undoubted genius…. That he produced his first violin concerto – not the one [you will] be singing for the next week… – when still in shorts; followed it not much later with a string octet that has never been beaten; wrote some great oratorios; magnificent symphonies; and some of the best piano pieces I have ever managed, fumblingly, to play – all before dying at a stupidly young age (not much older than Mozart, indeed) – should be evidence enough. But anyone who can transform an orchestra into a braying donkey must rank amongst the very greatest composers of all time!</i></blockquote></p>
<p>Tonight’s <i>Sinfonia for Strings</i> – the sixth of a set of twelve, written between the astonishing ages of twelve and fourteen – can also be slotted easily into this prodigy’s long list of precocious masterworks: his command of the smaller orchestra (and particularly of strings) easily on a par with this concert’s other great <i>wunderkind</i>, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.</p>
<p>And, although the temptation is to dream of, say, Mendelssohn’s <i>Fifteenth Symphony</i>, or Mozart’s <i>Piano Concerto No.67</i> (alleging, perhaps, that “only the good die young”), I would prefer to concentrate on the incredibly long list of incredibly wonderful works that thankfully survive from their abbreviated existences (Mozart dying at thirty-five, Mendelssohn at thirty-eight) – both, like Schubert (dead at thirty-one), perhaps, compelled by some premonition to communicate as much of the beauty they found in and around themselves as frequently and urgently as possible.</p>
<p>Interestingly, the works before the interval are both from the composers’ later outputs; whereas those following are the earlier pieces. However, all four compositions are readily matched in style to their creators: their maturity having ripened – if not come <i>totally</i> to fruition – during their temperate teenage years.</p></br>The Bard of Tysoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09091547499313505033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-186873659122536518.post-27495880554566923052018-09-11T23:36:00.000+01:002018-11-29T23:37:33.509+00:00English Fantasies for String Orchestra:Themes and variations<p>25 September 2018: Holy Trinity Church, Stratford-upon-Avon</p>
<ul>
<li>Arcangelo Corelli – Concerto Grosso in F major, op6, no2</li>
<li>Michael Tippett – Fantasia Concertante on a theme of Corelli</li>
<li>Thomas Tallis – Spem in alium</li>
<li>Frank Bridge – Idyll for String Quartet, op6, no2</li>
<li>Benjamin Britten – Variations on a theme of Frank Bridge</li>
<li>Thomas Tallis – Why fum’th in fight: The Gentils spite</li>
<li>Ralph Vaughan Williams – Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis
</ul>
<p>As well as all of tonight’s instrumental pieces being written for various configurations of string orchestra, they also, I believe, have an intense and unremitting <i>spiritual</i> vein running through them – which is <i>more</i> than matched by the two choral works of Thomas Tallis. (I would like to cite this as proof that the English stiff upper lip is merely a nationalist and populist meme and myth: and that our hearts bleed, and our eyes weep, as instantaneously and copiously as any other nation’s – including Italy, of course: where Arcangelo Corelli generated some of the most expressive and captivating Baroque music still in existence.)</p>
<p>Such emotion, I know, is likely to be be amplified by tonight’s location – surely one of this country’s most famous and beautiful parish churches – especially its resonant acoustic. I therefore repeat the request I penned for the orchestra’s previous performance of Vaughan Williams’ <i>Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis</i> – but now ask it for <i>every single one</i> of tonight’s seven glorious masterpieces:</p>
<p><blockquote><i>…especially as this is one of the very few pieces of music in which we are privileged to hear (what sounds remarkably like) God sighing… – which is that, after that final, astonishing, numinous G-major chord has faded away, you would allow a few seconds to pass, please, before rewarding [Stacey] and the orchestra [or Suzzie and the choir] with the applause they will undoubtedly deserve.</i></blockquote></p>
<p>In other words, please give the ancient mortar and stones of this glorious building time to absorb yet more of the wondrous atmosphere they have indubitably experienced in their eight centuries of history; and – for those of us who will frequently be in need of a tissue of two, after “finding something in our eyes” – space in which to find ourselves, <i>and</i> our handkerchiefs. Thank you.</p></br>
<p><i>PS: Although Corelli’s and Bridge’s works were written two centuries apart, you may notice that they possess identical opus numbers. Surely this is a coincidence? [Thankfully, as far as I know, Tallis did not number or catalogue his huge output of mostly religious music. Not that I’m superstitious. (Touch wood.)]</i></p></br>The Bard of Tysoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09091547499313505033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-186873659122536518.post-58648662499908610532018-05-28T15:40:00.001+01:002018-05-28T15:47:52.961+01:00Latin America meets Classical:Themes and variations<p><a href="https://orchestraoftheswan.org/events/latin-america-meets-classical/">5 June 2018: Holy Trinity Church, Stratford-upon-Avon</a></p>
<ul>
<li>Aaron Copland – Three Latin American Sketches</li>
<li>Lucía Caruso – ‘Light and Wind’ piano concerto (world premiere)</li>
<li>Pedro H. da Silva – ‘Snow’, for Portuguese guitar and orchestra (world premiere)</li>
<li>Lucía Caruso and Pedro H. da Silva (orchestrated by Pedro H. da Silva) – ‘Folía’, for Portuguese guitar, piano, and orchestra</li>
<li>Aaron Copland – Appalachian Spring</li>
</ul>
<blockquote><i>In 1959 the Festival of Two Worlds in Spoleto, Italy, asked me to write a short work for orchestra. The ‘Paisaje Mexicano’ and ‘Danza de Jalisco’ were completed in time for performance in July of that year…. Both pieces were first performed in the United States under [my] baton at a private invitation concert given by the Pan American Union in 1965…. [However, I] decided not to release the two movements for general performance before adding a third section. This was accomplished in 1971 with the completion of ‘Estribillo’, based on Venezuelan popular materials…. In 1968, a two-piano arrangement of the ‘Danza de Jalisco’ was published, with some revisions of the original orchestral version. These changes were later incorporated in the completed three-movement work, and the whole given the title ‘Three Latin American Sketches’.</i></blockquote>
<p>Thus Aaron Copland introduced the first performance of his last composition for orchestra, by Andre Kostelanetz and the New York Philharmonic, on 7 June 1972. Lighter in nature than much of his earlier output – although he counselled that the <i>Sketches</i> are “not so light as to be pop-concert material” – they contain no hint of such finality.</p>
<p>As with many new works (even one with such a long gestation period), the handwritten, spiral-bound score used by Kostelanetz for the premiere (held online in the <a href="https://archives.nyphil.org/">NY Phil archives</a>) is brimming with last-minute amends and annotations; as well as details of what should appear in Boosey & Hawkes’ final printed version. Fascinating to follow for the purpose of penning a programme note; but – although it is apparent Kostelanetz knew Copland’s composition thoroughly – I would not have wished to conduct from it!</p>
<p>Leonard Bernstein’s marks on his score of <i>Appalachian Spring</i> are a little less dense. They reinforce, though, the almost incomprehensible amount of work that conductors must complete before they first stand in front of the orchestra: their understanding of what is now open before them on the podium exhaustive, but lacking one key ingredient: the similarly in-depth input and feedback which the other performers bring – and not just in rehearsal. One of the joys of live music is that no performance is ever fixed: a figurative hummingbird flapping its wings in the opening bars can bring happy innovation several pages later – and perhaps colour <i>all</i> that follows. So when you applaud Bruce, tonight: please do so with a little more awareness, perhaps; and even <i>greater</i> admiration!</br></br></p>The Bard of Tysoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09091547499313505033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-186873659122536518.post-69523369063633960072018-05-07T11:07:00.001+01:002018-05-07T11:07:22.100+01:00Beethoven’s Triple Concerto:Themes and variations<p><a href="https://orchestraoftheswan.org/events/beethovens-triple-concerto-2/">15 May 2018: Holy Trinity Church, Stratford-upon-Avon</a></br>
<a href="https://orchestraoftheswan.org/events/beethovens-triple-concerto/">23 May 2018: Town Hall, Birmingham</a></br>
<a href="https://orchestraoftheswan.org/events/beethovens-triple-concerto-3/">25 May 2018: Town Hall, Cheltenham</a></p>
<ul>
<li>Ludwig van Beethoven – Overture, ‘Coriolan’, op62</li>
<li>Ludwig van Beethoven – Triple Concerto for Piano, Violin and Cello in C major, op56</li>
<li>Felix Mendelssohn – Symphony no4 ‘Italian’ in A major, op90</li>
</ul>
<p>When we are immersed in a great novel, we may wonder just how much of the author, or the author’s life, can be read within it. Likewise with poetry – although this does have an innate tendency to be autobiographical. But with music – unless we have documentary evidence; or the composer has also penned its lyrics – it is much harder to fathom. Many though have seen (or heard) tonight’s overture as a self-portrait: despite its front-and-centre reference to the Roman leader Caius Marcius Coriolanus (or ‘Coriolan’, in German). With its occasional thematic reminders of the Fifth Symphony, written in the same year, 1807, there is no doubt that the work musically encompasses some form of desperate mental struggle. Whether that fight involves Beethoven facing his deafness; or the semi-legendary patrician as he matures from brute to peace-monger (under the onslaught of his mother’s and wife’s entreaties), is, though, solely for the listener to determine.</p>
<p>Notwithstanding, Mendelssohn’s marvellous symphony is <em>definitely</em> autobiographical: as we know, not only from the many letters he wrote to family and friends, but from the fact that it follows his well-recorded ‘grand tour’ around Europe – which included a lengthy period in Italy (as well as Scotland, of course)! Although it eventually closes in a minor key, there is little doubt of the happiness this journey brought its composer. The joyful music he wrote in response is (hopefully) truly infectious!</p>
<p>It is doubtful whether anything other than Beethoven’s innate genius attaches to the <em>Triple Concerto</em>, however; although the short central movement <em>is</em> extremely moving. Following the examples of Haydn’s and Mozart’s <em>Sinfonia Concertantes</em> – for violin, cello, oboe and bassoon; and oboe, clarinet, bassoon and horn; respectively – both performed by OOTS, last season – it contains some of its composer’s most awe-inspiring and enjoyable music. (It is a shame, therefore, that all three of these great composers’ concertos share another trait – that of underperformance – especially when placed side-by-side with this concert’s celebrated overture and symphony.)</p>
<p>Indubitably, though, it is music’s effect on the <em>individual</em> that is most meaningful. There is nothing wrong, therefore, with being cheered by Coriolanus’ fate (killed by his erstwhile allies, according to Shakespeare; nobly dying on his own sword, according to Heinrich Joseph von Collin – who supposedly influenced Beethoven); or with sobbing at the <em>Saltarello</em> which concludes the concert.</br></br></p>The Bard of Tysoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09091547499313505033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-186873659122536518.post-10712242434289009992018-05-02T10:53:00.000+01:002018-05-02T11:12:46.441+01:00Italian Sunshine:Themes and variations<p><a href="https://orchestraoftheswan.org/events/italian-sunshine/">9 May 2018: Forum Theatre, Malvern Theatres</a></p>
<ul>
<li>Gioachino Rossini – Overture, ‘Italian Girl in Algiers’</li>
<li>Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Piano Concerto no21 in C major, K467</li>
<li>Felix Mendelssohn – Symphony no4 ‘Italian’ in A major, op90</li>
</ul>
<p>Sitting down to write this on the first steadfastly sunny day of Spring, just over a month ago, the blue sky seen through my window – punctuated with only the occasional faint ellipsis of cloud – proved too much of a temptation: and I ventured outside, leaving my labour behind. There, I soon discovered that Winter was still making itself all too present: with its icy winds nibbling at my face and fingers, and the sodden turf beneath my feet oozing with the evidence of March’s heavy downpours. The sap was rising, though (even if the mercury wasn’t): the hellebores, daffodils and hyacinths were in full flower; our oak tree laden with buds; the jackdaws cautiously collecting its discarded twigs to reinforce their distant nests; the blackbirds, robins and finches singing heartily. The only music which came to my mind, though, was Vaughan Williams’ <em><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sinfonia_antartica">Sinfonia antartica</a></em>.</p>
<p>Back at my desk, I heard the central heating – the thermostat having been tickled by those brumal breezes – clear its lungs, and creak into action (like myself) once more. What was needed, of course – to truly fulfil the new season’s potential (and to thaw out my nose) – was such warmth. Not artificially generated though; but that which naturally coexists with the azure above and below the Mediterranean horizon; that which is embedded in that region’s winds – the <em>zephyr</em>, <em>sirocco</em>, and fittingly-styled <em>maestro</em> – that which bursts forth from tonight’s balmy programme!</p>
<p>Thus we have a concert not only of “sunshine” (Italian, certainly; but with a gentle touch of the Viennese, by way of Sweden) – but also wit (combined with subtle feminism); beauty (paired with virtuosity); and radiant joy (contrasted with brief stateliness). Oh, and youth! (Although how many concerts have you been to where Mozart is the senior composer – at the grand old age of twenty-nine?!)</p>
<p>As Mendelssohn (twenty-four, when tonight’s symphony was first performed) once wrote:</p>
<blockquote><em>This is Italy! And now has begun what I have always thought… to be the supreme joy in life. And I am loving it. Today was so rich that now, in the evening, I must collect myself a little….</em></blockquote>
<p>Even if the weather outside is frightful, I guarantee you will leave the theatre fully prepared for its onslaught: with a smile on your face; a tune (or two) on your lips; and warm sunlight in your heart.</br></br></p>The Bard of Tysoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09091547499313505033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-186873659122536518.post-56496472914501474652018-04-04T12:48:00.000+01:002018-05-02T11:13:04.738+01:00Debussy and Rodrigo:Themes and variations<p><a href="https://orchestraoftheswan.org/events/debussy-and-rodrigo-2/">17 April 2018: Stratford ArtsHouse</a><br>
<a href="https://orchestraoftheswan.org/events/debussy-and-rodrigo/">18 April 2018: Town Hall, Birmingham</a></p>
<ul>
<li>Claude Debussy – Children’s Corner, L.113</li>
<li>Joaquín Rodrigo – Concierto de Aranjuez</li>
<li>Claude Debussy – Petite Suite, L.65</li>
<li>Georges Bizet – Symphony in C</li>
</ul>
<p>Today’s concert features two orchestral arrangements, that, on hearing – like Grieg’s <em>Holberg Suite</em>, <a href="https://orchestraoftheswan.blogspot.co.uk/p/t-2017-18.html#tamsin">played earlier in the season</a> – readily draw a very effective instrumental veil over their pianistic origins. As I wrote last November: “the effects [Grieg] conjures make it difficult to believe that this was originally composed for piano…! So reliant is the suite on the startling textures only strings can produce, that it feels utterly original.”</p>
<p>The difference, here, is that Debussy’s works were arranged by other musicians: each of whom, though, knew the composer, and his music, exceeding well. They therefore both succeed in exploring and exploiting the instrumental inferences the original compositions contain, whilst remaining sensitive to their quintessence: bringing further life and force to the stories held within. For instance, the mystical pipes and horns of the <em>Petite Suite’s</em> ‘Menuet’ are given wistful flesh by Henri Büsser, with his inspired utilization of the cor anglais; whilst ‘The little shepherd’ of <em>Children’s Corner</em> is blessed, by André Caplet, with his own sonorous flute (in the shape of an oboe…).</p>
<p>Büsser, by the way, was a quite remarkable man: living to the age of 101. In an interview given on his 100th birthday, in 1972, he recounted how he had approached his friend for permission to transcribe <em>Petite Suite</em> – “already having the orchestration in my head”. “Oh!” replied the composer, “you can’t know the joy you bring me; with my whole heart I authorize you to do this!” Indeed, Debussy conducted today’s arrangement many times: it being such a perfect example of the arranger’s skilful art.</p>
<p>Coincidentally, <em>Petite Suite</em> – like Rodrigo’s guitar concerto, which precedes it today – has also been arranged for brass band: in fact for the very same ensemble (the astounding Grimethorpe Colliery Band) that appears in the film <em><a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0115744/">Brassed Off</a></em> – and that so helped contribute to its well-deserved fame. No less valid, the result is proof that fresh truth and beauty can frequently be found when music is dressed in such different, but befitting, clothes.</p>
<p>In writing my programme notes for Debussy’s ravishing music, I have therefore listened to (and sometimes played through passages from) the original pieces, before absorbing myself in the orchestral arrangements: hoping to discover and describe (if not always explain) some of the magic that has been worked upon them.</br></br></p>The Bard of Tysoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09091547499313505033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-186873659122536518.post-71547215864598298702018-02-27T14:51:00.000+00:002018-02-27T14:51:33.352+00:00Peter Donohoe plays Shostakovich:Themes and variations<p><a href="https://orchestraoftheswan.org/events/peter-donohoe-plays-shostakovich-2/">13 March 2018: Stratford ArtsHouse</a><br>
<a href="https://orchestraoftheswan.org/events/peter-donohoe-plays-shostakovich/">14 March 2018: Town Hall, Birmingham</a></p>
<ul>
<li>Sergei Prokofiev – Symphony no1 ‘Classical’ in D major, op25</li>
<li>Dmitri Shostakovich – Piano Concerto no2 in F major, op102</li>
<li>Franz Schubert – Symphony no3 in D major, D200</li>
</ul>
<p>In the visual arts, <a href="http://www.tate.org.uk/art/art-terms/n/neoclassicism">according to the Tate</a>, “Neoclassicism was a particularly pure form of classicism that emerged from about 1750”; whilst the original ‘<a href="http://www.tate.org.uk/art/art-terms/c/classicism">classicism</a>’ was that which “made reference to ancient Greek or Roman style”. Confusingly, though, ‘classical’ music (see <em><a href="http://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/acref/9780199578108.001.0001/acref-9780199578108">The Oxford Dictionary of Music</a></em>, for example) is generally labelled as materializing around the same time (1750) – following the Baroque, and preceding the Romantic; “covering the development of the symphony and concerto” – with ‘neoclassical’ music then being produced between 1920 and 1950.</p>
<p>Settling on such precise dates is, of course, prone to spark dispute; and I, for one, would claim that Grieg’s spectacular <em>Holberg Suite</em> – from 1884; and <a href="https://orchestraoftheswan.blogspot.co.uk/p/t-2017-18.html#tamsin">performed by OOTS in November’s concert</a> – is <em>definitely</em> neoclassical: although not yet, as such an outlier, part of any definite trend. Today’s first work – formally christened by its composer as ‘Classical’ – was also produced outside those dates (during 1916-1917): and yet surely sets the standard for all that followed. (Unlike Stravinsky, though, who would return to earlier melodies and musical models frequently throughout his life, Prokofiev described this symphony’s composition as merely a “passing phase”!)</p>
<p>Whilst we all know, albeit vaguely, what classical music <em>sounds like</em> (and therefore, by extrapolation, its neoclassical offspring, as well); and recognize it when we hear it; it is harder to say exactly <em>what it is</em>. As with <a href="https://orchestraoftheswan.blogspot.co.uk/p/t-2017-18.html#roderick">last month’s programme</a>, I shall resort to quoting Michael Kennedy – as his pithy summary is surely as good as it gets!</p>
<blockquote>
<p><em>Music of an orderly nature, with qualities of clarity and balance, and emphasizing formal beauty rather than emotional expression (which is not to say that emotion is lacking); music generally regarded as having permanent rather than ephemeral value.</em></p>
</blockquote>
<p>Fortunately for us, ending as it does with Schubert’s Third Symphony, this concert provides us with the opportunity to compare structurally similar works from both the classical <em>and</em> neoclassical eras, and therefore draw our own conclusions. That these astonishing compositions are both in the same brilliant key of D major may also be to our advantage (although neither one remains in that key for very long). How we categorize Shostakovich’s exuberant concerto, which separates them, I do not know. It is so startlingly original – and so unlike most of his previous, Stalin-shadowed output – that it probably belongs in a class all of its own!</br></br></p>The Bard of Tysoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09091547499313505033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-186873659122536518.post-71551301942246542032018-02-26T11:21:00.000+00:002018-02-26T12:10:17.491+00:00Jennifer Pike plays Tchaikovsky:Themes and variations<p><strong><a href="https://orchestraoftheswan.org/events/jennifer-pike-plays-tchaikovsky/">12 March 2018: Forum Theatre, Malvern Theatres</a></strong></p>
<ul>
<li>Sergei Prokofiev – Symphony no1 ‘Classical’ in D major, op25</li>
<li>Franz Schubert – Symphony no3 in D major, D200</li>
<li>Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky – Violin Concerto in D major, op35</li>
</ul>
<p>Tonight’s concert begins and ends with bright, golden fireworks… – or <em>yellow</em> ones, at least: Russian composers Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov (1844-1908) and Alexander Scriabin (1872-1915) both agreeing (for once) that this was the characteristic colour, for them, of the key of D major. In his influential work of 1785, <em>Ideas Towards an Aesthetic of Music</em>, Christian Schubart (1739-1791) – summarizing the thoughts of many earlier musicians – described it as “The key of triumph, of Hallelujahs, of war-cries, of victory”; adding that “Thus, the inviting symphonies, the marches, holiday songs and heaven-rejoicing choruses are set in this key”. We are therefore in for an enjoyable evening of what philosopher (and composer) Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712-1778) called “gaiety or brilliance”: as not only do our wonderful first and last works start and finish in this flaxen key, but so does our enthralling central one!</p>
<p>Not that this means we are in for an evening of invariability: if anything, the music programmed tonight demonstrates just how spectacularly disparate orchestral ‘classical’ music can be. For example: a comparison of the two “inviting symphonies”, both fashioned to long-standing formal rules – particularly as regards structure – reveals many more differences than similarities. They both just happen to open and close with the same chord. (Although it then takes Prokofiev a mere eleven bars to change key completely: to the “innocent, simple, naïve” C major!) After all, the key which each revolves around, is only a starting-point: all it does is unlock the musical doorway through which we, and the players, ‘visit’ each composition.</p>
<p>As for Tchaikovsky’s miraculous work: the key of D major is a favourite one for violin concertos – think of Mozart’s second and fourth; of Beethoven’s, and of Brahms (also written in 1878); and even of Prokofiev’s first… – as the instrument’s open strings are particularly resonant in this key. (As, of course, are the orchestra’s! Indeed, the last chord we will hear tonight uses this characteristic to full effect: as the strings triple- or quadruple-stop – that is, play three, or all four strings, simultaneously – and, in this case, <em>fortissimo</em>…!)</p>
<p>You might think from the descriptors above that an evening packed full of what scholar Albert Lavignac (1846-1916) dubbed “joyful, brilliant, alert” D major might be too much of a good thing. I don’t believe it is; and I hope, at the end of the evening, as you call Jennifer back to the stage once more, that you won’t either!</br></br></p>The Bard of Tysoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09091547499313505033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-186873659122536518.post-11158516531610532762018-02-06T22:49:00.000+00:002018-11-29T23:21:09.959+00:00Roderick Williams and English Song:Themes and variations<p>13 February 2018: Stratford ArtsHouse<br>
14 February 2018: Town Hall, Birmingham<br>
<a href="https://orchestraoftheswan.org/events/roderick-williams-and-english-song-3/">6 April 2018: Worcester Cathedral</a></p>
<ul>
<li>Ralph Vaughan Williams – Five Variants of ‘Dives and Lazarus’</li>
<li>Ralph Vaughan Williams – Five Mystical Songs</li>
<li>Gerald Finzi – Let Us Garlands Bring, op18</li>
<li>Gerald Finzi – Romance for String Orchestra, op11</li>
<li>John Ireland – A Downland Suite</li>
</ul>
<p>Ralph Vaughan Williams first encountered the folk-song <em>Dives and Lazarus</em> in 1893, when he was twenty-one; and he later said that “I had the sense of recognition – here’s something which I have known all my life, only I <em>didn’t</em> know it!” Michael Kennedy characterized the tune as emanating “from the soil of England”; and one of the end results (RVW was quite addicted to using it), which opens today’s concert, sounds (nearly) as natural as the composer breathing.</p>
<p>But why does this music feel ‘English’? What makes it so? Is it just that we have become accustomed to its ‘shape’, its style; or is there truly an identifiable vernacular? (In other words: would we sense, somehow, that this concert’s musical origins were all so ‘local’, if we had not seen the programme and its title; nor heard these composers before?)</p>
<p>John Ireland – whose <em>A Downland Suite</em> completes the programme – said that “folk-song influenced Vaughan Williams, but I have been more influenced by plainsong”: despite Charles Stanford (one of the originators, with Parry, of the broad style which so influenced the young Elgar) accusing him of sounding “all Brahms and water”! And yet both composers – as well as sharing Stanford as a teacher (although RVW went on to study with Ravel) – share a certain audible <em>je ne sais quoi</em> – or at least my (admittedly capacious) taste easily encompasses both (as well as Holst, Finzi, and Walton; Britten, Tippett, and Maxwell Davies). They also move me in a way that is at odds with the emotions provoked by, say, Mozart, or Messiaen; they speak to a different part of my heart (although I must emphasize that there is no room in there for nationalism of any <em>political</em> piquancy).</p>
<p>I wonder, were I not born of “this sceptred isle”, if they would still affect me like this. Elgar said (to Ireland), referencing <em>The Dream of Gerontius</em> and Richard Strauss, that “No-one in this country took any notice of my music until a German told them it was good”. In other words: I really do not have answers (certainly not <em>simple</em> ones) to the questions I posed above; I simply do not know! But maybe <em>you</em> will come to a different conclusion: once impressed by five outstanding examples of twentieth-century <em>English</em> music.</p></br>The Bard of Tysoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09091547499313505033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-186873659122536518.post-37910920928198579342018-01-12T22:51:00.000+00:002018-11-29T23:19:55.921+00:00John Lill plays Beethoven:Themes and variations<p>19 January 2018: Forum Theatre, Malvern Theatres</p>
<ul>
<li>Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Overture ‘Don Giovanni’, K527</li>
<li>Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Symphony no41 ‘Jupiter’ in C major, K551</li>
<li>Ludwig van Beethoven – Piano Concerto no3 in C minor, op37</li>
</ul>
<p>This evening’s concert features – arguably – two of the greatest composers who ever lived: both with major works composed hastily during periods of significant trial and tribulation. Firstly, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – here in financial straits, after the failure of his latest opera; and possibly on the verge of depression – three years before his death and his final great outpourings. And then Ludwig van Beethoven, as he began to break free of his great idol’s influence to find his own voice: despite struggling to come to terms with the onset of deafness – especially the concomitant tinnitus.</p>
<p><em>Don Giovanni</em> had been hailed a palpable hit at its first performance in Prague, in October 1787; but, just over six months later, in Vienna, a revised version met with failure. Facing this setback head-on, Mozart immediately began composing his three final, miraculous, symphonies: managing somehow to complete them in successive summer months.</p>
<p>The last of these – our second work, tonight – even in the light of its two remarkable symphonic companions, K543 and K550 – is utterly astonishing. It simply does not matter whether you consider ‘Jupiter’ the greatest symphony ever written (as I do) – or merely(!) the greatest symphony of one of the “greatest composers who ever lived” – it will always stand as an imposing, sunlit monument to the man <em>and</em> the genre. (Sadly, it seems unlikely that it was ever performed in Mozart’s lifetime.)</p>
<p>It is difficult not to consider <em>Don Giovanni</em> his greatest <em>opera</em>, as well (although his later “great outpouring”, <em>Die Zauberflöte</em>, K620 – certainly more successful in his lifetime; and more frequently performed, today – must also be a contender). The overture is rumoured to have been composed on the day of its first performance (29 October 1787). However, Mozart records the completion of the opera as the day before! Whatever the case, as with the symphony, there are absolutely no audible signs of such alacrity.</p>
<p>Only music from the pen of a composer of Beethoven’s stature could succeed such masterpieces: with a work also premiered in Vienna (in April 1803, alongside his first two symphonies) – however, yet again, to mixed reviews. This time, though, the score had not even been finalized: the composer, as soloist, playing reportedly from “nothing but empty pages [with] a few Egyptian hieroglyphs… scribbled down to serve as clues”!</p></br>The Bard of Tysoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09091547499313505033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-186873659122536518.post-88233085186841381512017-12-02T22:53:00.000+00:002018-11-29T23:19:15.745+00:00Messiah:Themes and variations<p>9 December 2017: Holy Trinity Church, Stratford-upon-Avon</p>
<p>On 9 September 1742, George Frideric Handel wrote a letter to his close friend (and greatest fan), Charles Jennens, enclosing a glowing review – by “no less than the Bishop of Elphim (A Nobleman very learned in musick)” – of the extremely successful first performance of an oratorio in Dublin. This premiere had actually taken place five months earlier, on 13 April 1742: so it seems that Handel was perhaps a little tardy in informing Jennens just “how well Your Messiah was received”.</p>
<p>Yes… – “Your” <em>Messiah</em>. For it was Jennens who not only compiled the text; but also convinced Handel of the merits of such a work in the first place. It seems, as well, that the composer trusted his collaborator’s knowledge of music, and musical forms, well enough to have asked him for feedback on the final article: as later, he would write to Jennens, asking him to “point out these passages in the Messiah which you think require altering”.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, Jennens doesn’t appear to have considered <em>Messiah</em> one of Handel’s greatest hits (an opinion also held by the first London audiences for the work) – as he wrote to his friend Edward Holdsworth that…</p>
<blockquote>
<p><em>I shall show you a collection I gave Handel, called Messiah, which I value highly. He has made a fine entertainment of it, though not near so good as he might and ought to have done. I have with great difficulty made him correct some of the grossest faults in the composition; but he retained his overture obstinately, in which there are some passages far unworthy of Handel, but much more unworthy of the Messiah.</em></p>
</blockquote>
<p>There is no mention in either of my (extremely well-used) scores of <em>Messiah</em> of the librettist’s name; and it would be easy to dismiss – as many <em>have</em> done – its lyrical content as just a collection of random verses from the <em>Bible</em> loosely stitched together. Additionally – especially for those of us who need more than our hands and feet to count the number of performances we have either attended or taken part in – the words have become so utterly familiar, anyway, that we perhaps take little (if any) notice of their meaning – either as individual movements, or overall.</p>
<p>I would argue, though, that Jennens’ knowledge of scripture; his grasp of dramatic literature (he was the first person to produce scholarly editions of individual Shakespeare plays), and of dramatic music; all come together to produce a cohesive, intelligent, and, in many ways, a quite startling narrative. We have to remember that nothing like this had been produced before (excepting Jennens’ own text for Handel’s <em>Saul</em>, in 1739); and that the first edition of Alexander Cruden’s <em>Complete Concordance To the Old and New Testaments</em> had only just been published (in 1736). But, even then, it has to be acknowledged that Jennens must have known the 1611 King James Version of the <em>Bible</em> – and the versions of the psalms as printed in <em>The Book of Common Prayer</em> of 1662 – inside-out. Indeed, musicologist Watkins Shaw – in <em>The story of Handel's ‘Messiah’</em> – asserts that the libretto “amounts to little short of a work of genius”. As a writer, I have to agree!</p>
<p>The storyline that Jennens weaves can be seen in more than one light, too – hence its effectiveness. As religious propaganda, it reflects his own feelings concerning religion and society. In structure, it follows the liturgical year: <em>Part I</em> corresponding with Advent and Christmas; <em>Part II</em> with Lent, Easter, the Ascension, and Pentecost; and <em>Part III</em> with the year’s end (as well as ‘The End of Days’). Of course, its main thrust is the rehearsal of the life of Jesus: from Isaiah’s prophecies of a longed-for saviour – of his birth and death – to their fulfilment (in effect, from the First Coming to the Second). However, despite its title, this “life” is only ever really <em>implied</em> – apart from the appearance of the angels to the shepherds (in movements 13 to 17), events are written well and truly between the work’s lines.</p>
<p>As you listen to Handel’s glorious music, tonight, please, therefore, pay attention to those wonderful words, as well as – perhaps more than you would normally – to their meaning, their significance and power. And remember that, to all intents and purposes, without Jennens, there would be no music to hear. Without Charles Jennens, there would be no <em>Messiah</em>.</p></br>The Bard of Tysoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09091547499313505033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-186873659122536518.post-34313188822719362942017-11-28T22:54:00.000+00:002018-11-29T23:18:14.412+00:00New York comes to Stratford:Themes and variations<p>5 December 2017: Stratford ArtsHouse</p>
<ul>
<li>Aaron Copland – Music for Movies</li>
<li>Pedro H da Silva – Portuguese Guitar Concerto [world premiere]</li>
<li>Lucía Caruso – ‘Clouds’, for piano and orchestra</li>
<li>Aaron Copland – Music for the Theatre</li>
</ul>
<p>Both George Gershwin and Aaron Copland were born in Brooklyn, New York: Gershwin in September 1898; Copland in November 1900. Having both played the piano from an early age, both went on to study composition with Rubin Goldmark – who had once been a pupil of Antonín Dvořák. However, whilst Gershwin remained in America (producing, among other things, a string of successful musicals), in 1920 Copland moved to France, to study with Nadia Boulanger. While there, he was introduced to many European composers – including Igor Stravinsky – and began to realize that, whereas he could easily identify music as, say, ‘French’, or ‘Russian’, there was no immediately recognizable ‘American’ style.</p>
<p>He therefore set out to deliberately create such a language (and “purge” his music of its European influences). Thus, when he returned to the US in 1924 (the year of <em>Rhapsody in Blue</em>), he looked to jazz as a key ingredient. It certainly permeates (if not dominates) this concert’s <em>Music for the Theatre</em> (strangely, Copland preferred the British spelling) – and is the first piece to sound so obviously ‘by Copland’ (as we now know him). “I was anxious to write a work that would immediately be recognized as American in character,” he later recollected. While no particular dramatic device was involved, Copland said that he chose the title because “the music seemed to suggest a certain theatrical atmosphere”. Labelled a “suite in five parts for small orchestra” (not to mention an expansive percussion section!), it received its first performance by the Boston Symphony Orchestra on 20 November 1925.</p>
<p>But there is a great deal more to Copland’s music than ‘all that jazz’. Indeed, that genre’s influence dissipated soon afterwards; and other constituents – especially those derived from American ‘folk’ and ‘popular’ music – started to come to the fore. These can clearly be heard in later masterpieces such as <em>Rodeo</em>, <em>Billy the Kid</em>, and <em>Appalachian Spring</em> – music which is readily identifiable as both Copland’s, <em>and</em>, therefore, as ‘American’.</p>
<p>Although Stateside ‘classical’ music has also moved on – think of John Adams or Milton Babbitt – it could be suggested that Copland was, perhaps, <em>too</em> successful in propagating his national idiom. Nearly a century later, and so many film scores still owe him their existence. Thankfully, his own <em>Music for Movies</em> – which opens this concert – stands head and shoulders above those who try to mimic his matchless style.</p></br>The Bard of Tysoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09091547499313505033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-186873659122536518.post-42311354517216402322017-11-14T22:56:00.000+00:002018-11-29T23:17:05.259+00:00Tamsin Waley-Cohen plays Mozart:Themes and variations<p>21 November 2017: Stratford ArtsHouse<br>
22 November 2017: Town Hall, Birmingham</p>
<ul>
<li>Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Symphony no15 in G major, K124</li>
<li>Edvard Grieg – Holberg Suite, op40</li>
<li>Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Violin Concerto no4 in D major, K218</li>
<li>Joseph Haydn – Symphony no22 ‘The Philosopher’ in E-flat major, Hob.I:22</li>
</ul>
<p>In different ways, all three of today’s composers (and all four of today’s works) can be seen as reflecting on their compositional inheritance – or even looking back at it deliberately, with unfeigned affection – especially in the use of earlier dance-forms. In doing so, they each not only shine a new light on such musical history and tradition, but also breathe fresh energy into its utilization.</p>
<p>Fifteen, when he wrote his Fifteenth Symphony, and only eighteen or nineteen when he wrote his five violin concertos, Mozart’s style, here, is not yet <em>fully</em> mature, of course: and he is therefore still audibly influenced by that of his predecessors and elders – including his father, Leopold; as well as JC Bach and Michael Haydn. Nevertheless, the obvious musical growth demonstrated by this concert’s two compositions is quite astounding. And it is in the later work’s final movement – the Violin Concerto’s explicitly French-style <em>Rondeau</em> (Italian: <em>rondó</em>; ‘round’) – that Mozart’s retrospection takes its most concrete form. (As with its predecessor, K216, though, this movement stops and starts, and veers off in all sorts of ‘modern’ and ‘humorous’ directions!)</p>
<p>Additionally, until supplanted by the Beethovenian <em>scherzo</em> (Italian for ‘jest’ or ‘joke’), the minuet (Italian: <em>minuetto</em>; German: <em>Menuett</em>; French: <em>menuet</em>) was a recognizable, characteristic part of most classical symphonies: and thus features in both of today’s, along with its typical, central <em>trio</em> (so-called because, initially, this was in three-part harmony: as with the minor-key sections of sixteenth-century masses). Originally a rustic French dance, the <em>menuetto</em> (a neologism frequently used by both Mozart and Beethoven) is always in triple time – its epithet deriving from its distinctive dainty step: that is, from the French <em>menu</em>, for ‘small’.</p>
<p>As well as including such a <em>Menuet e Trio</em>, the overall <em>structure</em> of Haydn’s symphony also references the past: its slow-fast-slow-fast sequence of movements being more typical of the Baroque-era (roughly 1600 to 1750) <em>sonata da chiesa</em> (‘church sonata’). Its instrumentation, though, is both unique <em>and</em> groundbreaking.</p>
<p>However, it is in Grieg’s <em>Holberg Suite</em> that we find bygone styles evoked most knowingly – the deliberate call to earlier forms and styles (as with Warlock’s <em>Capriol Suite</em> and Prokofiev’s <em>Classical</em> Symphony) coloured with, and seen from, a more distant remove; as well as treated with a more modern discernment. Proof indeed that looking back is no hindrance to looking – and moving – forward.</p></br>The Bard of Tysoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09091547499313505033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-186873659122536518.post-80928123572134477942017-10-18T22:57:00.000+01:002018-11-29T23:15:49.997+00:00Julian Bliss plays Weber:Themes and variations<p>25 October 2017: Town Hall, Birmingham</p>
<ul>
<li>Gioachino Rossini – Overture, ‘The Barber of Seville’</li>
<li>Carl Maria von Weber – Clarinet Concerto no2 in E-flat major, op74 (J114)</li>
<li>Ludwig van Beethoven – Symphony no8 in F major, op93</li>
</ul>
<p>All of this afternoon’s works were composed within three years of each other – Weber’s concerto first, in 1811; Rossini’s overture last, in 1813 (albeit originally for his earlier opera, <em>Aureliano in Palmira</em>) – and yet, stylistically, apart from their Classical structures, they have little in common. What they <em>do</em> share are a contagious <em>joie de vivre</em> and characteristic confidence: all three composers at the top of their game – which, considering Rossini was only twenty-one, and Weber twenty-four, demonstrates just how rapidly their brilliance ripened. All three composers knew of each other, too: Rossini and Weber both meeting Beethoven in Vienna, in 1822 and 1823, respectively (around the time he was completing his <em>Missa Solemnis</em> and the Choral Symphony).</p>
<p>Both of the younger composers were much saddened at seeing their idol so isolated by his deafness; but it seems Beethoven’s wicked sense of humour (so apparent in today’s symphony) was still to the fore. He said to Rossini – a backhanded compliment, if ever there was one – that <em>The Barber of Seville</em> was “an excellent <em>opera buffa</em>”; but that Rossini should “never try to do anything other than comic operas – to want to succeed in another style would force your nature”! (This was despite the success of ‘serious’ operas such as <em>Tancredi</em>, <em>Otello</em>, and <em>Mosè in Egitto</em>.) His final words, repeated as he saw Rossini out of his “dirty and frightfully disorderly attic”, being: “Above all, you must make more <em>Barbers</em>.”</p>
<p>Weber was perhaps more fortunate – “You’re a devil of a fellow!” – even though he had been publicly critical of some of Beethoven’s earlier compositions, including the Fourth Symphony. Beethoven had been deeply impressed by <em>Der Freischütz</em>, and was so astonished at its originality that – according to Weber’s son, Max – he struck the score with his hand, and exclaimed “I never would have thought it of the gentle little man”. When they parted, Beethoven – having “served [him] at table as if I had been his lady” – embraced and kissed him several times and cried: “Good luck to the new opera [<em>Euryanthe</em>]; if I can, I’ll come to the first performance!”</p>
<p>Although this afternoon’s music is still essentially Classical in nature – Beethoven resolutely recalling its glory years – all three are now seen as the founding fathers, or architects, of Romanticism (despite Rossini describing himself as “the last of the Classicists”). What a joy it is to have them all in the same room!</p></br>The Bard of Tysoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09091547499313505033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-186873659122536518.post-80604816590678218892017-06-13T22:21:00.000+01:002018-11-29T23:14:49.698+00:00Viola and double-bass take centre stage!Themes and variations<p>20 June 2017: Stratford ArtsHouse</p>
<ul>
<li>Carl Ditters von Dittersdorf – Sinfonia Concertante for Double-Bass and Viola in D major, Kr.127</li>
<li>Julian Philips – Ballades Concertantes [world premiere]</li>
<li>Joseph Haydn – Symphony no49 ‘La Passione’ in F minor, Hob.I:49</li>
</ul>
<p>Most – if not all – concertos are composed with specific performers in mind. Sometimes, they are written to showcase the composer’s own skills (think Mozart, Liszt, Rachmaninoff, etc.). Many times, they are written for a restricted number of instruments – particularly, it seems, violin and piano.</p>
<p>At the time of writing, IMSLP – the International Music Score Library Project: “Sharing the world’s public domain music” – holds 119,774 works, by 15,188 composers. Of these, 4,136 are labelled as concertos: 1,081 including ‘violin’ in their title (26.1%); and 471 containing the word ‘piano’ (11.4%). There are nearly as many concertos written for oboe (238) as there are cello (257); but only 117 for my favourite instrument, the bassoon… – and only one (yes, one!) for the glorious cor anglais (a very recent work, by Simon Laumer). Even the tuba has more written for it: with seven!</p>
<p>Tonight’s soloists – Virginia and Stacey – have, respectively 99 (viola) and 27 (double-bass) to choose from. But it is only when you type in ‘Dittersdorf’ or ‘Symphony Concertante’ that tonight’s first ‘double concerto’ is revealed – which, I’m afraid, only goes to show that all the above numbers should be treated (like opinion polls) as <em>reasonably</em> indicative (especially as contemporary composers seem to be much more inventive in their solo works: there already being two concertos listed for ‘electric bass’).</p>
<p>The point I’m trying to make is that such instruments are very rarely brought forward from their places in the orchestra… – and yet, when they are, we realize just how unfair this is: both the viola and double-bass being capable (as you will hear) of sonorous lyricism and striking virtuosity so different from their smaller cousins, the violin and cello. I accept that there are fewer players (certainly fewer <em>solo</em> players) of these instruments; and that surrounding such lower voices with orchestral timbres that do not overpower them may present more complex challenges… – although Tchaikovsky, Dvořák and Elgar met these head-on in creating glorious works for cello, of course!</p>
<p>We should therefore be immensely grateful to Carl Ditters von Dittersdorf and to <a href="https://orchestraoftheswan.blogspot.co.uk/2017/06/an-old-friend-of-oots.html">Julian Philips</a>, for creating pieces that, although around 250 years apart, demonstrate what we have been missing. In their extremely different ways, not only do they give us the full range of these wonderful instruments’ capabilities, whilst producing music that captivates; but they demonstrate – as the Dalai Lama said – that “if you listen, you may learn something new”.</p></br>The Bard of Tysoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09091547499313505033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-186873659122536518.post-28312277690273919762017-06-06T16:33:00.001+01:002017-06-06T17:05:18.145+01:00An old friend of OOTS…<p><b>Whilst writing the programme notes for the last concert to contain a <a href="https://orchestraoftheswan.blogspot.co.uk/2017/02/commissions-accomplished.html">commission written for OOTS’ 21st Anniversary season</a> – <em><a href="http://www.orchestraoftheswan.org/event/viola-and-double-bass-take-centre-stage/">Viola and Double-Bass Take Centre Stage!</a></em> – I had a brief email conversation with composer <a href="http://www.roh.org.uk/news/the-inventive-and-beguiling-world-of-julian-philips">Julian Philips</a>: who has produced an immensely beautiful work, <em>Ballades Concertantes</em>, for solo viola, double-bass and chamber orchestra, as a companion piece to Carl Ditters von Dittersdorf’s <em>Sinfonia Concertante for Double-Bass and Viola</em>.</b></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsFlO8wPafTrJ8NwPWqvkga6uQ9lV8MpqCGcDuWusX73eOgviUOirodjLFU1ZjV571myjCCJb95VKBD1UcouFnt-g_fc0lscGr2Gs_Z6Dd4iA1LVBJKANxamUMFkoHty1aH__rd08OOrQ/s1600/IMG_0176.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsFlO8wPafTrJ8NwPWqvkga6uQ9lV8MpqCGcDuWusX73eOgviUOirodjLFU1ZjV571myjCCJb95VKBD1UcouFnt-g_fc0lscGr2Gs_Z6Dd4iA1LVBJKANxamUMFkoHty1aH__rd08OOrQ/s400/IMG_0176.JPG" width="400" height="400" data-original-width="500" data-original-height="500" /></a></div>
<p><b>The words which follow are all Julian’s; the musical excerpts are the first lines of each of the four Machaut <em>Ballades</em> that inspired him.</b></p>
<p><em>Ballades Concertantes</em> developed out of an engagement with two different historical traditions – the late-fourteenth-century <em>Ballade</em> of Guillaume de Machaut, and the later eighteenth-century <em>sinfonia concertante</em>, as developed by Haydn, Mozart or Dittersdorf. Machaut, because my recent opera <em><a href="http://www.rdmr.co.uk/uploads/2/0/9/2/20924198/final_the_tale_of_januarie_press_release.pdf">The Tale of Januarie</a></em> – based on Chaucer’s <em>The Merchant’s Tale</em> – had engaged with late medieval music; and the music of Machaut – who was the great figure of his day, and very much known to Chaucer – was still in the air. The <em>sinfonia concertante</em>, because David and the orchestra were keen to celebrate their twenty-first anniversary by reviving a form which gives solo spots to individual orchestral players. In this case, the viola and double-bass.</p>
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<p>The piece thus presents four creative transcriptions of Machaut <em>Ballades</em> filtered through both my own imagination and the formal premise of the <em>sinfonia concertante</em>. From the <em>sinfonia concertante</em> comes an orchestral texture in which the solo viola and double-bass are embedded; and also the four-movement <em>sinfonia</em> design, with a <em>scherzo</em> (movement 2), slow movement (movement 3), and almost a <em>rondo</em> finale. From the Machaut comes not only a particular sensibility about modal harmony, but also some of the plangent lyricism that fills his <em>Ballades</em> – which were, after all, songs of courtly love and amorous desire.</p>
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<p>All four movements preserve the formal shape of the Machaut <em>Ballades</em> – two sections, the first repeated, the second longer, with certain phrases recurring like refrains. Movements 1 and 3 enrich, embellish and transform their <em>Ballade</em> sources, preserving their design quite closely. Movements 2 and 4 are a little freer – the second movement’s <em>Ballade</em>, <em>Je ne cuit pas</em>, is an unusual canon (or <em>Chasse</em>), and this is plundered for scraps of motivic material, which are developed in fragments.</p>
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<p>There <em>are</em> moments where the original Machaut <em>Ballades</em> appear as from behind a curtain – most poetically I guess in movement 3: where I kept his beautiful cadential patterns. In movement 2, we do get a complete statement of the original <em>Ballade</em> melody – albeit magnified in my own canon: which is exploded across perfect fifths. But this movement retains the most explicit link to the original. Movement 4 celebrates the beautiful melody of Machaut’s <em>Dame, se vous m’estes lonteinne</em>, with paraphrases first for double-bass and then for viola: which are then combined with a complete statement of the original melody ringing out in the horns at the end.</p>
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<p><em>Ballades Concertantes</em> is dedicated to my friend and colleague, the composer and conductor <a href="http://jamesweeks.org">James Weeks</a>: as a ‘thank-you present’ for his time at Guildhall (he is soon moving to Durham University). James is a great enthusiast for new music <em>and</em> for ancient music: and so the piece is very much a tribute.</br></br></p>The Bard of Tysoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09091547499313505033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-186873659122536518.post-34770597938248409222017-05-09T22:23:00.000+01:002018-11-29T23:13:30.404+00:00Jennifer Pike plays Mozart:Themes and variations<p>16 May 2017: Forum Theatre, Malvern Theatres</p>
<ul>
<li>Michael Haydn – Symphony no25 ‘Mozart’s 37th’ in G major, MH334</li>
<li>Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Violin Concerto no3 ‘Strassburg’ in G major, K216</li>
<li>Franz Schubert – Symphony no5 in B-flat major, D485</li>
</ul>
<p>Three months before he composed the symphony which closes this concert, nineteen-year-old Franz Peter Schubert wrote in his diary: “O Mozart! immortal Mozart! what countless impressions of a brighter, better life hast thou stamped up our souls!” – and it comes as no surprise, therefore, that the ensuing work owes a major debt to his idol (particularly his 40th Symphony).</p>
<p>In some ways, all <em>three</em> of today’s works are Mozartian – either by attachment (or attribution), authorship, or afflation (or such divine inspiration as Schubert would perhaps claim). In fact, until 1907, Michael Haydn’s vibrant 25th, which opens proceedings, was believed to be Mozart’s 37th (K444) – although it is difficult to accept, upon hearing it, that anyone could have really considered it the sequel to the miraculous <em>Linz Symphony</em> (K425): written – in four days – in late 1783. Despite it being composed in the same year, it is more representative of a previous era: when young Wolfgang was still striving to find his own voice. Having said that, today’s violin concerto was composed eight years earlier – when Mozart, like Schubert, was only nineteen – and yet his distinct, rapidly-burgeoning genius really shines through.</p>
<p>There is little doubt that Mozart thought a great deal of the older composer; and they were indeed good friends – influence therefore flowing in both directions. So, when Mozart was commissioned to write his great <em>Requiem</em>, it is likely that he used Michael Haydn’s C minor mass (MH155) as a model. (Coincidentally, Haydn wrote forty-one symphonies – his last being composed one year after Mozart’s stupendous <em>Jupiter Symphony</em>.)</p>
<p>Sadly, we hear very little of the younger Haydn’s music nowadays. It is his big brother, Franz Joseph, we look to as Mozart’s mentor; and Mozart’s influence we hear propelling later composers. It is well-known that Tchaikovsky idolized him – his <em>Rococo Variations</em> the most direct tribute – and Ravel stated that he was similarly inspired when composing the <em>Adagio assai</em> of his G major piano concerto.</p>
<p>No-one else, though, has ever quite recaptured that melodic ease, or fleetness of composition (although Schubert comes exceeding close). As Ravel said of <em>his</em> Mozartian theme: “That flowing phrase! How I worked over it bar by bar! It nearly killed me!” However, Brahms expresses it best, in a letter to Clara Schumann: “But how happy is the man who, like Mozart…, arrives at a pub in the evening and writes new music. Creating is simply his life, but he does what he wants. What a man.”</p></br>The Bard of Tysoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09091547499313505033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-186873659122536518.post-68381394516820736962017-04-06T22:26:00.000+01:002018-11-29T23:12:34.468+00:00Emma Johnson plays Mozart:Themes and variations<p>13 April 2017: Forum Theatre, Malvern Theatres</p>
<ul>
<li>Joseph Haydn – Concerto for Two Flutes in C Major, Hob.VIIh:1</li>
<li>Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Clarinet Concerto in A major, K622</li>
<li>Christoph Willibald Gluck – Dance of the Blessed Spirits</li>
<li>Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Symphony no40 in G minor, K550</li>
</ul>
<p>Tonight’s concert should probably be dedicated to Calliope, the Muse of epic poetry: who not only inspired Homer’s <em>Odyssey</em> and Virgil’s <em>Aeneid</em> – but whose name means ‘beautiful voiced’.</p>
<p>Moreover, there is a keyboard instrument <em>called</em> a calliope: which features a set of pipes usually powered by steam; and which is not <em>that</em> far removed from the <em>lira organizzata</em> – a fascinating Italian gizmo that is half hurdy-gurdy, half chamber organ. This ‘organ-ized lyre’ was the favourite instrument of King Ferdinand IV of Naples: who was one of the original soloists (along with his teacher) in tonight’s <em>Concerto for Two Flutes</em> – originally, the first of Haydn’s <em>Concertos for Two Lire Organizzate</em> – pieces which work equally well when played not only on flutes, but also oboes and recorders.</p>
<p>Furthermore, the “beautiful voices” of solo woodwind are at the heart of three of this concert’s works – an extremely unusual occurrence indeed: seeing that, as <a href="https://orchestraoftheswan.blogspot.co.uk/2017/03/the-greatest-and-most-satisfying.html">Emma Johnson</a> recently pointed out, when I interviewed her, “The solo repertoire for violin and for piano is far larger than that of <em>any</em> of the woodwind instruments.”</p>
<p>And, finally, it is Calliope’s son Orpheus (or Orfeo) – who the goddess “taught verses for singing” – and his attempt to rescue his wife Eurydice (Euridice) from the Underworld – that inspired the opera from which our third work is taken: Gluck’s ravishing <em>Dance of the Blessed Spirits</em> (which, in placing Elysium, the world of the blessed, <em>within</em> the Underworld, also follows strongly in the Homeric tradition).</p>
<p>Overall, though, it is <em>melody</em> which unites these four late 18th Century works: built, as they are, around some of the most beautiful <em>and</em> memorable tunes ever written. My personal favourite is that which gently opens the <em>Adagio</em> of Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto: which Emma described as “one of those examples of pure beauty in art” – one which I find incredibly moving. She confirmed that even for her, as soloist, “it is an emotional experience to play… and if the performer <em>doesn’t</em> feel that, then neither will the audience…. Like an actor,” she added, “you have to learn to manipulate your emotions so they express the work of art you are performing.”</p>
<p>I will leave the last word to Irving Berlin, though: who – with Mozart’s fireworks still ringing in your ears, as you head safely homewards… – probably expresses that enduring property of the greatest tunes better than anyone else: “The song is ended But the melody lingers on.”</p></br>The Bard of Tysoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09091547499313505033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-186873659122536518.post-58345460004780845862017-04-04T22:28:00.000+01:002018-11-29T23:11:44.495+00:00Laura van der Heijden plays Tchaikovsky:Themes and variations<p>11 April 2017: Stratford ArtsHouse<br>
12 April 2017: Town Hall, Birmingham</p>
<ul>
<li>Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Eine kleine Nachtmusik, K525</li>
<li>Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (edited by W Fitzenhagen) – Variations on a Rococo Theme, op33</li>
<li>Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Symphony no40 in G minor, K550</li>
</ul>
<p>Why are variations on a theme such a popular art-form – for <em>composers</em>, at least? Elgar famously used them, in his <em>Enigma Variations</em>, to paint portraits of his closest friends. Bach wrote the incomparable <em>Goldberg Variations</em> to assuage insomnia. And some – including Czerny, Brahms and Britten – composed a collection to pay tribute to those that have inspired or tutored them (respectively: Beethoven, Schumann and Bridge – but not exclusively).</p>
<p>The variation is one of the oldest musical forms: even being found within the keyboard works of William Byrd (c1540-1623). Its development is also intimately linked with that of the concerto: from the earliest <em>concerti grossi</em>, through Handel and JC Bach, to Franck’s <em>Variations symphoniques</em> for piano and orchestra – and, of course, this concert’s <em>Rococo Variations</em>.</p>
<p>Its possibilities are inexhaustible. If you require proof: one of the most popular themes used for ‘alteration’ is that of Paganini’s <em>Caprice no24 in A minor</em> for violin. Not only does this prototype itself include eleven variations; but many, many musicians – including Brahms, Lutosławski, and, most notably, Rachmaninoff – have created wonderfully transformative sequences of their own.</p>
<p><a href="https://orchestraoftheswan.blogspot.co.uk/2017/03/weaver-of-moonbeams.html">Julian Lloyd Webber</a>, our conductor today, has also recorded an album, simply entitled <em>Variations</em>, based on this theme: written for him by his brother, Andrew. I therefore wondered if <em>he</em> might have an answer. <em>Why</em>…?</p>
<blockquote>
<p><em>Because, for a composer, it’s a big challenge: to be able to write a set of variations on one particular theme;</em> and <em>come up with very different ideas. Some of the ideas are</em> so <em>good… – you hear these Paganini variations: the way different composers approach them – it’s fascinating. For instance, Rachmaninoff turning the tune around and making an absolutely beautiful melody – that’s very, very clever! I do think Andrew was quite brave to choose that tune: because so many other famous pieces had come out of it. But he’s never shirked a challenge!</em></p>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<p><em>And so I think it works both ways: for the composer to demonstrate his technique, and what he can actually do with imagination and a simple theme; and also for the audience, who get to follow the changes through a theme that they hear many times during a piece of music.</em></p>
</blockquote>
<p>Tchaikovsky, of course, opted to write his own theme. He may claim it as ‘Rococo’; but, in reality, it has more to do with his role model – the man he called his “musical Christ” – Mozart: whose inspirational works also begin and end today’s proceedings.</p></br>The Bard of Tysoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09091547499313505033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-186873659122536518.post-65321595661955805972017-03-22T15:02:00.001+00:002017-04-15T17:21:48.664+01:00Weaver of moonbeams…<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zhSTkN7A9TE/WPI-EAXaCGI/AAAAAAAAHpQ/qOKIkyxTS0Ee0yvYmWSX71sQDHm0oD3LwCPcB/s1600/IMG_0152.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zhSTkN7A9TE/WPI-EAXaCGI/AAAAAAAAHpQ/qOKIkyxTS0Ee0yvYmWSX71sQDHm0oD3LwCPcB/s400/IMG_0152.JPG" width="267" height="400" /></a></div>
<p>Ahead of his two concerts – in <a href="http://www.orchestraoftheswan.org/event/laura-van-der-heijden-plays-tchaikovsky-stratford/">Stratford-upon-Avon</a> and <a href="http://www.orchestraoftheswan.org/event/laura-van-der-heijden-plays-tchaikovsky-birmingham/">Birmingham</a>, conducting Orchestra of the Swan with this year’s Associate Artist, cellist <a href="https://orchestraoftheswan.blogspot.co.uk/2016/09/its-all-in-playing.html">Laura van der Heijden</a> – I went to meet Julian Lloyd Webber: now <a href="http://www.bcu.ac.uk/conservatoire/about-us/welcome/english">Principal</a> of <a href="http://www.bcu.ac.uk/conservatoire">Birmingham Conservatoire</a>, and steering it through some exciting times as it prepares to move into its <a href="http://bcu.ac.uk/conservatoire/about-us/news/a-new-conservatoire-for-birmingham">purpose-designed new home</a>. </p>
<p>Entering his office in the <a href="https://bcu.ac.uk/conservatoire/about-us/parking-and-directions">old building</a> – sadly nearing the end of its productive life, in the centre of the city – one cannot fail to be reminded, though, of <a href="http://www.orchestraoftheswan.org/project/julian-lloyd-webber-cello/">his previous career</a> as one of his (and my) generation’s greatest, and most successful, solo cellists: with posters of some of his most memorable achievements scattered throughout the room. Indeed, above his desk – in pride of place, perhaps – he points out a large framed copy of the cover of the CD I am nervously clutching between my fingers: a recording which confirmed his status of hero for me, <em>and</em> for many others. But more of that later: because, as he welcomes me in, and shakes my hand, there could not be a more genial and gracious interviewee. (As I am rapidly learning – as my first year of being OOTS’ Writer-in-Residence comes to a close – the majority of classical musicians are incredibly generous people: open, willing to chat, to treat you as an equal, to spend time with you… – they just happen to be <a href="https://tysoebard.blogspot.com/2016/09/super-but-nothing-superfluous.html">incredibly talented</a>, too – although no mention of this will ever pass their lips.)</p>
<a name='more'></a><p>Once seated, Julian expresses astonishment at the Lilliputian <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Recorder-Dictaphone-High-quality-linearity-recording/dp/B01LLOHYZ2">digital voice recorder</a> sitting on the table between us – an enthusiasm, delight and attentiveness that never wanes in the thirty minutes we’re together. I ask him if it’s okay to talk about his ‘<a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/music/classicalmusic/10817986/Julian-Lloyd-Webber-I-cried-on-stage.-Im-not-sure-I-will-play-again.html">enforced retirement</a>’ from solo cello playing – and, of course, he says, immediately, with complete relaxation, “Yeah: it’s fine”. Part of my interest is personal, though: as I, too, had to retire because of structural problems with my neck – although I <em>did</em> have <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/music/classicalmusic/10817986/Julian-Lloyd-Webber-I-cried-on-stage.-Im-not-sure-I-will-play-again.html">the operation he simply could not risk</a>.</p>
<p>“Did you have a lot of pain?” he asks. I nod. “Because I didn’t, you see. That’s why they didn’t want to do it. Because they said, well, we really only operate, do this, for pain. We’re not sure it’s going to work…. So how bad <em>was</em> it for you?”</p>
<p>“I lost my left arm completely – all the feeling; all the control,” I reply; a little stunned that he should care. But people who know him tell me that he <em>always</em> cares. “And this was because of the neck?” “Yes. But I was told that the op <em>wouldn’t</em> take away the pain; but that it would give me control of my left arm back; give me the <em>movement</em> back; and stop me losing my left leg in the same way. Which it did.”</p>
<p>“That’s amazing. But you’re still in pain…? Did it leave a scar?” I nod again; and show him the short, faint white line at the base of the front of my neck. This wasn’t quite how I’d intended the interview to go. But I now have even more respect for this humane gentle giant sitting opposite me. I stare at the list of questions on my iPad: wondering how to gently nudge things along, without wanting to spoil the moment.</p>
<p>“Actually… they thought the nerve was probably already damaged,” he says, pensively. “It <em>might</em> have worked…. How long did it take you to get over it?” “Oh, instantly,” I reply, a little stunned. “Fantastic! With the use of everything back?” “Yes. I woke up from the operation with an almighty migraine, but my arm was there, moving in front of me…. But don’t have it done just because it worked on me!” We both laugh – albeit a little reticently. But then Julian says, as if laying down the law: “If you’re in that kind of pain, and you can’t use your arm, then you get it done.” And he’s right – although it was a decision that, at the time, took a lot of time to make. “I wasn’t,” he adds. “So that was it….”</p>
<p>“Anyway,” finally drawing a line under a diversion that I think has been enlightening for both of us… he grins: “I’m interviewing <em>you…</em>!” Those lustrous blue eyes sparkle. And we get back on topic. (Not that we’d ever really left it, I think.)</p>
<p>¶</p>
<p><strong>Is it especially difficult conducting a work you know – and played – very, very well; being on the other side of the podium?</strong><br/>
No! I think it makes it a lot easier. In fact, I haven’t been doing a huge amount of conducting. I made a conscious decision to go into music education, rather than conducting – although I enjoy doing that, and it’s still a wonderful way for me to make music. But, the thing I discovered is that I really like <em>accompanying</em> – conducting my wife in the Haydn C major concerto, as well as the <a href="https://cbso.co.uk/event/mozart-haydn-and-beethoven">principal cello of the CBSO</a> – and, because I know it so well, I conducted it from memory! So it is a huge help to know it from the soloist’s point of view; and actually know how you can help while you’re conducting. So I’m really looking forward to doing the <em>Rococo</em> with Laura – a player I’ve admired from afar for many years. In fact, I’m looking forward to the whole concert: because I love Mozart, but have never had the chance to do any, because he didn’t write any solo pieces for cello. So this is a wonderful opportunity for me to perform one of my very favourite composers: particularly when it comes to a serious, great masterpiece like the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Symphony_No._40_(Mozart)">G minor symphony</a>.</p>
<p><strong>You said, <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p009mtxn">many years ago</a>, that you admired both <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arturo_Toscanini">Toscanini</a> and <a href="https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wilhelm_Furtwängler">Furtwängler</a>: because – although contrasting in style – they were “conductors who put their ideas over with tremendous clarity”. Are there any contemporary conductors that you find so inspiring; or that you have enjoyed working with? And if I don’t get you to mention David Curtis, I think there may be some sort of forfeit involved!</strong><br/>
I very much enjoyed working with David: because, again, he’s a string player, viola player, who understands what kind of back-up a soloist needs. Sometimes, the big ‘starry name’ conductors can get in the way of a soloist, by doing too much; and I always liked the way that David let things happen naturally. I did many different concertos with David: I did the <em>Rococo</em>; I did the Shostakovich first – which is perhaps my favourite, because I love the work… – I did the Delius concerto with him. We <em>must</em> have done Elgar, I’m sure… – in fact, we definitely did. I did four or five concertos with David: and always enjoyed them thoroughly.<br/>
I was very fortunate to work with some absolutely great names, who are sadly no longer with us: like Menuhin, Neville Marriner; and I really enjoyed working with Richard Hickox. These were people who knew how to accompany…. I can tell you that I admire the younger generation: for example, Mirga [<a href="https://cbso.co.uk/who-we-are/our-conductors/mirga-grazinyte-tyla">Gražinytė-Tyla</a>] is going to be phenomenal. She’s barely thirty, and has <em>tremendous</em> interpretive gifts. She does not deliver a dull performance. She’s very clear with her intentions; and has rather a unique conducting style. That is the kind of music-making I like: it’s always alive and always inquisitive.</p>
<p><strong>A bit of a nerdy question – but I also have to write the programme notes…! I presume, since you recorded it with Maxim Shostakovich in 1991, that you’ll be doing <a href="http://en.tchaikovsky-research.net/pages/Variations_on_a_Rococo_Theme#Movements_and_Duration">Tchaikovsky’s <em>original</em> version</a> of the <em>Rococo Variations…</em>?</strong><br/>
No, we won’t! But, you see, Laura plays the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Variations_on_a_Rococo_Theme#Tchaikovsky_versus_Fitzenhagen">Fitzenhagen version</a>: and so that’s the one we’ll be doing… – which <em>threatens</em> to be confusing, <em>if</em> I don’t do my homework! I love the <em>Rococo</em>, and have played it many times <em>in</em> the Fitzenhagen version. It was only later that I started playing the <em>original</em> version. They both have their strengths, though. The Fitzenhagen is, on the face of it, more audience-friendly: because it is a very well-constructed piece. Rostropovich, for example, wouldn’t play the original: he believed the Fitzenhagen was better…. But they’re <em>both</em> good!</p>
<p><strong>Is there any reason you grew to prefer Tchaikovsky’s original version?</strong><br/>
I don’t feel incredibly strongly about it; but it’s what he wrote. It’s what, I believe, Tchaikovsky approved to be published. And there’s more <em>music</em> in the original version: especially as Fitzenhagen cut out all of the last variation. I just felt that it was a more substantial piece for cello. I couldn’t see a reason to go on doing the Fitzenhagen – except that it <em>is</em> a very effective concert piece.</p>
<p><em>It turns out that Julian has an encyclopaedic memory (hinted at above) containing every single one of his performances – and at this point we reminisce about a performance of the Fitzenhagen version of the variations he gave at the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Free_Trade_Hall">Free Trade Hall</a>, in Manchester, “years and years ago”, with Martyn Brabbins conducting – “now he’s a</em> very <em>good accompanist…” – in fact, when I was still a student in the very early 1980s. But then I ask the question my initial request – with regards to his retirement from playing – concerned. I could not have wished for a better answer.</em></p>
<p><strong>What sort of emotions – if it’s not too personal a question… – do you think it will bring back conducting the <em>Rococo Variations</em> with the Orchestra of the Swan: when this was not only the last piece of music you played with the orchestra; but also in the same venues: Stratford ArtsHouse, and the <a href="http://livebrum.co.uk/town-hall/2012/02/22/julian-lloyd-webber-and-orchestra-of-the-swan">Town Hall</a>, just across the road…?</strong><br/>
I played at both Stratford <em>and</em> the Town Hall many times with the Orchestra of the Swan: and a lot of players will be the same… and it’s great! I’m making music with people still; and it’s a great <em>joy</em> to be able to do that… when I’ve had to stop playing. I can still make music with these people: many of whom have become my friends. It will be great to see them again; work with them; make music with them again. And, actually, Laura’s got a tough job with the <em>Rococo</em> – so I’m quite relieved to be just conducting!</p>
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<p><strong>Turning to education, and particularly what you do here…. In the <em><a href="https://www.theguardian.com/music/2017/mar/05/julian-lloyd-webber-music-school-birmingham">Observer</a></em>, at the beginning of March, you said that: “It is our job to plug the gaps, as the government continues to pull back on providing music education in schools.”</strong><br/>
We have to try. And if we can help introduce music to children who wouldn’t otherwise have had the chance, then we must do it. In a sense, it can only be a drop in the ocean. But it’s a <em>splash</em> in the ocean that we’re trying to make here, with our outreach work.
But I’m so against this <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/English_Baccalaureate">EBacc</a>: taking music – taking <em>all</em> art subjects – out of the school curriculum. I think it’s very short-sighted. I think it’s very narrow. And I don’t think it’s <em>fair</em> on our children: who should be able to experience these things without having rich parents who can afford to pay for instruments and lessons.<br/>
I’m really passionate about it. It follows through from my whole approach to classical music. I’ve always believed it’s for everyone – and right through my whole career – from when I started playing music; from the inspiration I took from <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mstislav_Rostropovich">Rostropovich</a>: who always played the cello as if it was to every single person in the concert hall…. And I’ve always believed that music <em>can</em> reach everyone; and that people have the right to <em>decide</em> whether they like it, whether it’s for them.<br/>
And, at the moment, a great deal of the population aren’t even getting that opportunity. And I feel very strongly about that. I’ve always tried to bring music to people. So this job to me, as a music educator, is very natural; and I want this conservatoire to be for everyone. I want it to be for the public. I want the public – not just students – coming through those doors; and for us to be part of the community.<br/>
Birmingham City University is an <em>urban</em> university. It’s <em>not</em> in leafy Edgbaston – like the University of Birmingham! And therefore we have a certain role to fulfil in this community. For example, we are going to be doing concerts with the Indian composer, <a href="https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nitin_Sawhney">Nitin Sawhney</a>; and a Polish festival with <a href="https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nigel_Kennedy">Nigel Kennedy</a>.</p>
<p><strong>As well as being keen to get out there, and get ‘out there’ to come in; you once <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p009mtxn">said</a> that it is “very important that musicians are aware of what’s going on in other fields”. You obviously have led by example throughout your career: with not only <em><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Variations_(Andrew_Lloyd_Webber_album)">Variations</a></em>, but the <em><a href="https://www.discogs.com/Peter-Skellern-Julian-Lloyd-Webber-Mary-Hopkin-Bill-Lovelady-Mitch-Dalton-Oasis/release/3653208">Oasis</a></em> album – and the conservatoire is obviously continuing to do so. Are there other ways the staff here instil this in the students; or do they arrive already ‘multifaceted’ (for want of a better word)?</strong><br/>
I think this conservatoire is very open-minded. One of our most famous alumni is <a href="https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laura_Mvula">Laura Mvula</a>: who came through the composition department; and has always credited us for introducing her to all kinds of different music. And I think her classical training has been a big help to her. A lot of conservatoires wouldn’t have accepted what she was doing. If we have a good singer-songwriter who wants to study here, we will help them. You will not find the composition department here saying you have to write in one style. If they see talent in any particular direction, they <em>will</em> try to help.<br/>
We also have a fantastic jazz department; and have had for a long time. And we’re going to have the first dedicated jazz club in Birmingham for a decade in the new building – which will be open every night.</p>
<p><strong>To finish… You chose <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Elgar-Violin-Concerto-Cello/dp/B00000DOJP">Beatrice Harrison’s recording of the Elgar concerto</a> – with Elgar conducting – as your ‘<a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p009mtxn">Desert Island Disc</a>’: because, you said, she “follows Elgar’s markings”. Four years later, you recorded it, with Yehudi Menuhin [chosen as the <a href="http://www.julianlloydwebber.com/bbc_9_92.asp">finest ever version</a> by <em>BBC Music Magazine</em>], and <em>you</em> followed Elgar’s markings. In fact, the reason I brought it with me for you to sign was that you were the first contemporary cellist not to do a Jacqueline du Pré… – which I found utterly refreshing.</strong><br/>
That’s why I had the confidence to record it. We all know about <a href="https://www.discogs.com/Elgar-Jacqueline-du-Pré-Sir-John-Barbirolli-London-Symphony-Orchestra-Janet-Baker-Cello-Concerto-Se/release/4381366">the Jacqueline du Pré recording</a>… – but there were two reasons for my confidence. Firstly, I knew I played it completely differently: so there’s no point of comparison. Second, there was having <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yehudi_Menuhin">Menuhin</a> as conductor: who was <em>completely</em> my idea. The record company wanted some <em>younger</em> names: who, though so not well-known now, were very trendy at the time! The record company’s objection was that “Menuhin doesn’t really conduct”. But I said: “<a href="http://www.classicfm.com/music-news/pictures/history-hmv-pictures/elgar-menuhin/">he worked with Elgar</a>; Menuhin knows this music…” – and I was completely right: he was <em>wonderful</em> to work with!<br/>
Those two things made me really want to do it. Also, I love the concerto; and I don’t think it’s healthy for a piece of music to just depend on one performer – which it was beginning to, dangerously so.<br/>
I don’t want to criticize Jacqueline du Pré. It’s the last thing I want to do. But hers is a very <em>personal</em> interpretation; and a lot of the time it <em>does</em> depart from the score. And that’s fair enough. But… there is an argument for saying that Elgar marked his scores and his music probably in more detail than any other composer. It’s absolutely marked… what he wanted. So, therefore, there must be an argument for following that. He was very clear in what he wanted.<br/>
There was a kind of ‘elastic’ way in which Elgar conducted, though… – and Menuhin has got that; and he would have learned that <a href="https://www.discogs.com/Elgar-Yehudi-Menuhin-London-Symphony-Orchestra-Violin-Concerto-In-B-Minor-Op-61/release/2201662">from Elgar himself</a>. That ‘elasticity’ is key – one which is still faithful to the markings and the score. And I think it’s very important for that tradition to survive.</p>
<p><em>In the middle of all this, I try to convey how Laura’s approach to the work is, in some ways, similar… – although, like his,</em> completely individual <em>– and certainly astounding for one so young. An <a href="https://tysoebard.blogspot.com/2016/07/the-jest-ill-show-you-here.html">online review</a> captures it: “Although, thank goodness – unlike so many other performers… – and this was evident even during rehearsal – Laura’s interpretation of this masterpiece is definitely all her own. (As conductor David Curtis said, so perspicaciously, in his pre-concert talk: she has made it so by first, wisely, returning to the source material – interrogating and understanding Elgar’s clear, precise, multifarious directions – rather than simply aping what has gone before.)”</em><br/>
<em>I tell Julian that, one day, I hope Laura records it – with him at the helm. He listens intently; and perhaps it prompts that last line…? Regardless, I will now prize my battered <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Elgar-Cello-Concerto-Enigma-Variations/dp/B00000E354">1985 recording of the Elgar concerto</a> even more.</em><br/><br/></p>The Bard of Tysoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09091547499313505033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-186873659122536518.post-86527985674865557152017-03-20T12:11:00.001+00:002017-04-15T17:21:58.330+01:00The greatest and most satisfying manifestations of human expression…<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u4CCZuBwQ6s/WPJC9Yi8qHI/AAAAAAAAHrc/HJwddLxooYoIQvHXwJJWCo7BtYrbyyHCQCPcB/s1600/IMG_0006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u4CCZuBwQ6s/WPJC9Yi8qHI/AAAAAAAAHrc/HJwddLxooYoIQvHXwJJWCo7BtYrbyyHCQCPcB/s400/IMG_0006.JPG" width="267" height="400" /></a></div>
<p>On Thursday, 13 April 2017, “internationally acclaimed clarinettist, recitalist, chamber musician, recording artist and lecturer” <a href="http://www.emmajohnson.co.uk/biography/">Emma Johnson</a> will be joining OOTS for <a href="http://www.orchestraoftheswan.org/event/emma-johnson-plays-mozart/">an evening of sublime 18th century music</a> in the Forum Theatre, Malvern. Although in the middle of a busy concert schedule, Emma was kind enough to carry out the following interview, via email. </p>
<p><strong>There don’t appear to be many famous classical clarinettists in the world (indeed, at any one point in time). Is this because of the lack of <a href="https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clarinet_concerto">mainstream repertoire</a> – especially, say, compared to that for the piano or violin?</strong><br/>
The solo repertoire for violin and for piano is far larger than that of <em>any</em> of the woodwind instruments, and that is why the clarinet is usually considered an orchestral instrument. When you are nine years old and picking an instrument to play, you don’t know these things. But once it became clear I wanted to be a musician, it was naturally assumed I would try to play in an orchestra.<br/>
However, I gradually discovered that the solo clarinet repertoire is richer than people realize: spanning from Mozart, Weber, Brahms and Schumann, to Finzi, Poulenc, Copland and <em>many</em> modernists; as well as playing a pivotal role in jazz. There is, in fact, <em>ample</em> material for a clarinet soloist; and I have expanded the repertoire, too: by making arrangements and transcriptions, and commissioning new pieces.<br/>
In addition, <a href="https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=6tU6B_L6YWoC&pg=PA5&lpg=PA5&dq=emma+johnson+bbc+young+musician&source=bl&ots=XOufmBXe8x&sig=SVD6ATd7XqpzjMTxcEmawi3_uqY&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwiZzujH8eLSAhUN8GMKHcT4Dw84KBDoAQhFMA4#v=onepage&q=emma%20johnson%20bbc%20young%20musician&f=false">winning BBC Young Musician at the age of 17</a> allowed me to think differently, and to develop my clarinet playing so that it had the variety and range of a solo recitalist. Because of the opportunities the competition opened up to play solo, it enabled me to realize a vision I had of how a solo clarinettist could be.</p>
<a name='more'></a><p><strong>A few months ago, <a href="https://orchestraoftheswan.blogspot.co.uk/2016/09/its-all-in-playing.html">I interviewed Laura van der Heijden</a>, who won BBC Young Musician of the Year in 2012: and wondered – looking back at your career, so far – how important you think <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emma_Johnson_(clarinettist)">winning that competition was <em>for you</em>, in 1984</a>? Do you think talent will out; or that such competitions <em>are necessary</em> in establishing yourself as as soloist?</strong><br/>
<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/music/2006/may/19/classicalmusicandopera">Winning BBC Young Musician was <em>vital</em></a>: because it enabled me to follow a more soloistic path with the clarinet, rather than a more conventional orchestral career. It is possible that this might have happened <em>without</em> the competition; but I am not naturally a very pushy person, so it might easily <em>not</em> have happened!<br/>
I think such competitions <em>are</em> necessary in the process of finding soloists: because they can favour those who are not already well-connected.</p>
<p><strong>You’re playing <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clarinet_Concerto_(Mozart)">Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto</a> with the orchestra. This work must be the foundation of <em>any</em> classical clarinettist’s career, I suppose. Do you think you will <em>ever</em> get tired of playing it? (I never get tired of <em>listening</em> to it!)<br/>
And, staying with the Mozart: there are some slow movements – that of <a href="https://tysoebard.blogspot.co.uk/2016/04/then-all-colours-will-bleed-into-one.html">Bach’s Double Violin Concerto</a>; the famous <em><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piano_Concerto_No._2_(Rachmaninoff)#Adagio_sostenuto_.E2.80.93_Pi.C3.B9_animato_.E2.80.93_Tempo_I:_C_minor_.E2.86.92_E_major">Adagio sostenuto</a></em> of Rachmaninoff’s Second Piano Concerto, for instance – but especially the <em>Adagio</em> of Mozart’s concerto, being composed so close to his death – that I find so moving – that I struggle to understand how the performers reach the end without turning into quivering wrecks. Just how <em>do</em> you keep your composure?</strong><br/>
It <em>is</em> an emotional experience to play the slow movement of the Mozart concerto; and if the performer <em>doesn’t</em> feel that, then neither will the audience. The lively music of the third movement then snaps you out of that sadness; and, like an actor, you have to learn to manipulate your emotions so they express the work of art you are performing. I sometimes draw upon life experiences, such as bereavements, or I conjure up mental pictures, to help access the right mood for a given passage of music.<br/>
You are right that one never tires of the Mozart: because it is one of those examples of pure beauty in art. In some ways, because it <em>is</em> so venerated, it feels quite a responsibility to play it for people. Interestingly, it wasn’t <em>always</em> revered – when it was first played with the Hallé Orchestra in the 19th century, people found it overly long and repetitive!</p>
<p><strong>Will you be playing with your standard <a href="http://www.eatonclarinets.com/emma.html">Peter Eaton</a> ‘A’ clarinet, or the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Basset_clarinet">basset clarinet</a> you had made, I think, especially for <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Mozart-Album-Emma-Johnson/dp/B000AJIGB6">a recording of the work</a>? (Listening to your recordings side-by-side, the basset clarinet, to me, has a much warmer, expressive – even more human, ‘singing’ – sound; with a much ‘grittier’ <em><a href="http://www.clarinet-now.com/clarinet-range.html">chalumeau</a></em>.)</strong><br/>
I shall be playing the normal ‘A’ clarinet: because I find it makes a bigger sound than the basset – which will suit the big hall at Malvern. Unfortunately, the original manuscript of the Mozart concerto is lost, anyway (the dedicatee, Stadler, is said to have pawned it!) – so, although we know the piece would, in the first few performances, have been played on a basset, there is no definitive, authoritative text showing exactly how the version for basset clarinet worked. The most authoritative text is the first printed edition: which was already written out only for the standard clarinet.</p>
<p><strong>How do you find working with the Orchestra of the Swan – who you’ve <a href="https://www.thsh.co.uk/news/rookie-review-orchestra-of-the-swan-2015-16-emma-johnson-mozarts-clarinet-concerto">performed the Mozart with before</a>?</strong><br/>
I love to work with the Orchestra of the Swan: because they play with such intelligence and spirit. We played the Finzi concerto not too long ago: and the string playing was the best I have ever heard in that piece.</p>
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<p><strong><a href="http://odz.hu/en/zeneszek/mate-hamori/">Máté Hámori</a> (the conductor for the concert) is a new name to me. How do you approach working with new conductors – especially when you’re performing a work <em>you</em> know so well?</strong><br/>
Each conductor is different; and you have to see how they want to rehearse. Sometimes, they only allow time for a basic run-through of the concerto. Other times, they are very keen to rehearse details. The soloist must be very flexible! In the case of the Mozart, it is very much like chamber music: and how the orchestral players respond directly to the sound of the clarinet is very important, too.<br/>
As I have played the Mozart with OOTS a number of times, the piece will come together very quickly; and then it is a question of deciding how we want it to go on this particular occasion: i.e. choosing tempi that will work in the acoustic, and working out how to get the range of moods to come across optimally in those surroundings.</p>
<p><strong>Did you have any musical heroes or idols, growing up, who inspired you? I must admit, that, until the cassette finally snapped, I used to carry a recording of the <a href="http://www.allmusic.com/album/mozart-clarinet-concerto-clarinet-quintet-mw0001395741">Mozart concerto and quintet</a> played by <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/news/2003/sep/18/guardianobituaries.artsobituaries">Jack Brymer</a> everywhere! You studied with him, I believe, whilst at Cambridge?</strong><br/>
Yes, Jack Brymer was an inspirational figure. I was fortunate to have lessons with him: and he was a very natural player, so I learnt a lot from hearing him play, as well as from things he said. I have always been keen to carry on the English tradition he was part of: involving a very vocal way of clarinet playing, that is akin to singing, where notes are voiced in different parts of the head and chest.<br/>
I also admired recordings of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Benny_Goodman">Benny Goodman,</a> when I was growing up – in both classical <em>and</em> jazz. I was amazed, when, in 1986, a message came via my record company that Goodman would like to meet me on his forthcoming tour to the UK. Very sadly, he died just before the tour took place.</p>
<p><strong>Are there any works that you would love to perform publicly, that you’ve never had the chance to; or any composers you would like the chance to commission?</strong><br/>
One of the most skilful composers of our age is the film composer, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Williams">John Williams</a>. It would be great if he wrote a clarinet piece! I have just made <a href="https://www.gramophone.co.uk/review/an-english-fantasy">a recording of concertos written for me</a> by four wonderful composers: Will Todd, John Dankworth, Paul Reade and Patrick Hawes. All are great additions to the repertoire.<br/>
I hope to persuade more orchestras to take on more unfamiliar repertoire that I know the audience will respond to. It would be nice to regain the audience’s trust in new music.</p>
<p><strong>Was there ever any other instrument in your life; or that you wished you could play – and for any specific reason (or piece of music)?</strong><br/>
I love to play Bach on the piano. The clarinet hadn’t been invented, yet, when he was alive. But playing the piano is my favourite way to start my clarinet practice sessions!</p>
<p><strong>Finally – and I admit that venues such as Malvern on a Thursday evening can exaggerate this – with classical music audiences often appearing a sea of grey heads from the stage (often including mine). What do you see as its future? Is there any one thing that will ensure its healthy survival long into the future?</strong><br/>
Yes, there <em>has</em> been a contraction of audiences: because people are not educated about classical music at school, and by the media, in the same way that they once were. But I feel sure that there will always be a hard core of supporters for this artform: which represents some of the greatest and most satisfying manifestations of human expression.</br></br></p>The Bard of Tysoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09091547499313505033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-186873659122536518.post-67013430586406276122017-03-07T22:31:00.000+00:002018-11-29T23:10:19.832+00:00Orchestra of the Swan’s 21st Anniversary Concert – The English Genius:Themes and variations<p>14 March 2017: Stratford ArtsHouse</p>
<ul>
<li>Gustav Holst – St Paul’s Suite</li>
<li>Ralph Vaughan Williams – Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis</li>
<li>Ralph Vaughan Williams – Symphony no5 in D major</li>
</ul>
<p>With the first classical symphonies (as we might recognize them today) emerging from around Lombardy in the 1730s, it seems awfully bad form that the earliest <em>English</em> masterpiece of the genre didn’t arrive until 1908: with Elgar’s magnificent opus 55. To make up for its tardiness, though, that work <em>was</em> performed one hundred times in just over a year – in cities as far apart as Manchester and Saint Petersburg.</p>
<p>And, of course, it wasn’t long before other composers took up the baton. So – even though many pundits repeatedly (and fatuously) declared the form dead (globally) during the 20th Century – suddenly, like buses, whole hosts of English symphonic works arrived together! Names that spring to mind as Elgar’s natural heirs include those born ‘just up the road’ in Northampton – William Alwyn, Malcolm Arnold, and Edmund Rubbra: who wrote twenty-five between them. <em>Down</em> the road was Humphrey Searle – born in Oxford – with five. And then, looking south, towards the village (and glorious hymn-tune) of Down Ampney, in Gloucestershire, there emerged probably the country’s greatest symphonic composer to date: Ralph Vaughan Williams, with his traditional sequence of nine.</p>
<p>It never ceases to amaze me just how distinctive in disposition these creations are – and yet all are instantly identifiable as the man’s own. But the Fifth – which closes this 21st Anniversary Concert – is the one which many claim to be his greatest (and I could not disagree).</p>
<p>Ostensibly romantic and beautiful, it <em>should</em> offer respite from the explicit violence of its predecessor; and yet it overflows with ambiguity: inciting doubt, rather than imparting belief. It could, in its own keep-calm-and-carry-on fashion, be seen as a stereotypically English response to the global destruction enveloping its arrival; and yet its heartfelt desolation lies barely beneath its composer’s not-quite-so-stiff upper lip – so does not take much unearthing. It is thus, I contend, the most ‘mortal’ of his symphonies. Indeed, as their creator once stated: “The principles which govern the composition of music… are not the tricks of the trade or even the mysteries of the craft, they are founded on the very nature of human beings.”</p>
<p>110 years after its prodigious birth, the English symphony endures. A wonderful recent example is Peter Maxwell Davies’ <em>Symphony No.10</em>. And we also have the English Symphony Orchestra’s extensive <em>21st Century Symphony Project</em> – led by OOTS’ former guest conductor Kenneth Woods – launching in a fortnight. Long may it prevail!</p></br>The Bard of Tysoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09091547499313505033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-186873659122536518.post-32844399223020802652017-02-16T22:33:00.000+00:002018-11-29T23:09:27.994+00:00Guy Johnston plays Haydn:Themes and variations<p>23 February 2017: Forum Theatre, Malvern Theatres</p>
<ul>
<li>Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Sinfonia Concertante for Four Winds in E-flat major, K297b</li>
<li>Joseph Haydn – Concerto No.2 in D Major for cello and orchestra, Hob.VIIB:2</li>
<li>Joseph Haydn – Symphony no59 ‘Feuer’ in A major, Hob.I:59</li>
</ul>
<p>My dictionary tells me that the simple word ‘fire’ embraces many more meanings than I had rashly assumed: from “the heat and light of burning” through “ardour” and “passion” to “spirited vigour or animation” – and I think those properties can be found in <em>all three</em> of tonight’s works: warming the chill February air equally; but in diverse ways. The compositions are also linked by their instrumentation: the addition of oboes and horns to OOTS’ core strings reinforcing their quintessential translucent, intimate chamber feel – yet producing extended and contrasting variations in both texture and effect.</p>
<p>All written within a period of fifteen years, it would be easy to lump the three pieces in with the contemporary <em>Sturm und Drang</em> movement, as well. However, Mozart’s <em>Sinfonia Concertante</em>, which begins the concert, is lit mainly by the qualities of ardour and passion – especially in its first two movements. Its finale, though, is full of quasi-Haydnesque wit; as well as a great deal of spirited vigour <em>and</em> animation.</p>
<p>The concerto builds on this fervour. Although technically challenging – the fiery, almost explosive, finger-work is as <em>visual</em> a delight as it is an <em>aural</em> one… – Haydn’s writing exploits the timbre of the cello to the full (as well as its range and volume): making it <em>sing</em>. I thus believe it to be one of the greatest works ever composed for the instrument. That it demonstrated (and extended) its expansive capabilities so early on in its history, is, to me, a manifestation of the great composer’s continual willingness to acquire skill and knowledge, to experiment, to stretch… – indeed, a manifestation of his genius.</p>
<p>It differs from his 59th Symphony in many ways – time and experience encouraging complexity, perhaps… – and yet this earlier work still demonstrates Haydn’s lifelong propensity to push at boundaries; as well as his ability to quickly move not only from the ‘stormy’ to the ‘driven’, but the sublime to the, er, humorous (and back again)! In some ways – especially with its opening <em>Presto</em> – it does encapsulate the artistic trend which pivoted around it. And yet, in its finale, the composer – in stamping his mark on the work – almost produces its antithesis: realizing one last definition of its slightly circuitous sobriquet – “refraction of light in a gemstone”. It truly sparkles!</p><br>The Bard of Tysoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09091547499313505033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-186873659122536518.post-53922069609118353742017-02-12T17:05:00.001+00:002017-04-15T17:22:06.848+01:00Commissions accomplished…!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pwGbt0OSQVw/WPJFWc2Y0ZI/AAAAAAAAIAA/4NTdqf71pQ4TfWTd5WTno0EP1fLlJY-UwCPcB/s1600/IMG_1250.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pwGbt0OSQVw/WPJFWc2Y0ZI/AAAAAAAAIAA/4NTdqf71pQ4TfWTd5WTno0EP1fLlJY-UwCPcB/s400/IMG_1250.JPG" width="266" height="400" /></a></div>
<p>As part of OOTS’ 21st Anniversary season, four composers, who have all worked with the orchestra before, were invited to write “companion pieces” to classical ‘concertante’ works – which they would then be premièred alongside – an idea conjured up by orchestra trustee Tim Richards. As David points out, “this gives our principals the opportunity to shine, as well as thanking them for their commitment”; adding that pairing music in this way “gives the orchestra, soloists, audience and composer both context <em>and</em> inspiration”.</p>
<p>Last year’s commissions – Douglas J Cuomo’s <em><a href="https://orchestraoftheswan.blogspot.co.uk/2016/11/the-leaves-bow-themselves-to-ground.html">Objects in Mirror</a></em> and Paul Moravec’s <em><a href="https://orchestraoftheswan.blogspot.co.uk/2016/11/what-harmony-is-this-my-good-friends.html">Nocturne</a></em> – were both instant hits. (In fact, <a href="https://tysoebard.blogspot.co.uk/2016/11/our-fleeting-bach-is-under-sail.html">I described the Cuomo</a> as “a cracking work: the perfect foil to the Bach that inspired it”; and <a href="https://tysoebard.blogspot.co.uk/2016/12/from-sublime-to-cuniculus-and-back-again.html">reported that Moravec’s</a> “left me with a mammoth lump in my throat, and several large somethings in both eyes”.) I am therefore certain that <em>this</em> year’s will follow in their winning footsteps.</p>
<p>Julian Philips’ composition (<a href="http://www.orchestraoftheswan.org/event/viola-and-double-bass-take-centre-stage/">to be premièred in June</a>) is for viola and double-bass. David commented that “Julian is an old friend of OOTS, and I expect something slightly more ‘traditional’. Because he knows us so well, I’m sure he will want to capitalize on our distinctive string sound.”</p>
<p>¶</p>
<p>Asked about Joanna Lee – whose <em>Blue Blaze – Dance Suite</em> will be performed this month – David explained that “Joanna is relatively young: and OOTS believes in championing emerging talent.” He went on to say: “I have always been struck by her inventiveness and highly individual voice: so her work is likely to be quite challenging for audience <em>and</em> players – fully exploiting the characteristics of the solo instruments – but also very witty and light-hearted!”</p>
<a name='more'></a><p>I passed these comments by Joanna – which, perhaps, was a little cheeky of me… – but OOTS is, after all, one big happy family: and such remarks are always taken at face-value! “I chuckled – and, to be honest, was a little unnerved – when I read that David said that my piece would be ‘challenging’,” she replied; but added that “I imagine it would be for <em>any</em> audience. It’s a curious situation, though. I do recognize that many listeners find elements like atonality – not that my music <em>is</em> atonal – bizarre, or sometimes even offensive; but having been exposed to it for many years, <em>my</em> ears hear atonality as tonal and clear! It’s familiarity, I suppose; but still a curious occurrence. I do worry, though, that listeners may think that composers are just being awkward on purpose to pursue such things. And I suppose some <em>may</em> be…. But <em>my</em> approach isn’t founded in that <em>at all…</em>!</p>
<p>¶</p>
<p>The three commissions produced so far have all been refreshingly different in response: e.g. form, style, and nature: so I asked Joanna what had prompted her to produce a ‘dance suite‘. And – apart from sharing the solo instrumentation with the Mozart <em>Sinfonia Concertante for Four Winds</em> – if there were any other connections to its progenitor. (I also gave her the chance to explain her “approach”!)</p>
<p>“I always take account, albeit loosely, of <em>all</em> the companion pieces in the programme – namely whether this is a more traditional or contemporary concert; what the inspiration was for those pieces; as well as their genre. I then endeavour to place <em>my</em> piece within that framework to as much an extent as I can. For example, the use of the words ‘dance suite’ in my title – it’s a standard title for the Classical era; and the four movements of my piece are all inspired by some form of dance. However, this <em>might</em> be where the comparisons to the other pieces end!</p>
<p>“I do find it daunting, though, to be placed alongside such icons of music as Mozart and Haydn. They found perfection in their own voices – so I feel I would only set myself up for failure if I tried to mimic their music in any way. Therefore, I have to confess to also <em>ignoring</em> the other works in the programme to a degree! </p>
<p>“I know I have a slight rebellious streak. Playing the piano throughout my childhood, I wasn’t so much interested in perfecting a piece, but re-arranging it: even if it simply meant playing it (usually considerably) faster, or an octave higher. This is why I became a composer: I preferred pushing boundaries and trying new things. I played plenty of Mozart’s piano pieces, and I enjoyed his playful style; but I found greater affinity for composers like Debussy and Stravinsky. Indeed, upon being asked what ‘rules’ he followed, Debussy answered “<i>mon plaisir</i>”, or “whatever I please”. This approach went much further than following the experiments of the 1950s/60s <em>avant-garde</em> composers: who threw all rules out of the window! So I think you cannot pigeon-hole the styles of composers today, as their music is so varied… – but this sense of adventure, of finding your own voice and new possibilities remains.</p>
<p>“So, returning to what David said: I am conscious that this approach, and the musical style that it produces, may <em>seem</em> challenging – arrogant, even. But, actually, it simply stems from a desire to try new things, rather than something that has already been fully explored and perfected. Why rewrite what has already been done so well?”</p>
<p><strong>Notes</strong><br/>
* <em>Blue Blaze – Dance Suite</em> will be premièred at <a href="http://www.orchestraoftheswan.org/event/mozart-meet-joanna-lee-stratford/">Stratford ArtsHouse</a>, at 19:30, on Tuesday, 14 February 2017; and repeated at <a href="http://www.orchestraoftheswan.org/event/mozart-meet-joanna-lee-birmingham/">Town Hall, Birmingham</a>, at 14:30, on Wednesday, 22 February 2017.<br/>
* You can read more of Joanna’s words on Fran Wilson’s wonderful <em><a href="http://meettheartist.site/2017/02/04/joanna-lee-composer/">Meet the Artist</a></em> website.<br/>
* Joanna’s own website can be found <a href="http://www.joannalee.co.uk/index.html">here</a>.<br><br></p>The Bard of Tysoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09091547499313505033noreply@blogger.com0