Tuesday 31 December 2013

Thoroughly Worthy Rattle

If it wasn't for TV series such as Leaving Home I wouldn't even have been aware of contemporary classical music.

Congratulations Sir Simon Rattle for getting the Order of Merit - hope you have many more years to come.

Saturday 30 November 2013

Remembering John Tavener

I went to a school where an atheist physics teacher expressed his enthusiasm for the work of John Tavener at a school assembly. It's no surprise that secularists are as enthused by the classical canon even if a large part of it was inspired by Judaeo-Christian scripture. What was surprising was that with much of Tavener's music, the religious connotations could not so easily be cleaved away. I had recently acquired Svyati on disc. The music was beautiful - but the constant references in pieces such as Eternal Memory to lost paradises left me cold.

And yet, even if I cannot be a part of a spiritual project, I admired Tavener for trying to create the transcendent. Tavener was not as backward looking as some of his detractors insisted. Late Carter and Webern were genuine enthusiasms. The drones and scales (Eastern and Western) that are the trademark of Tavener's music show a composer who was a true synthesist. The Indian elements to his music for a lay person such as myself seemed 'whole' rather superficial. The palindromes that pervade pieces such as The Hidden Treasure and Chant seem to exemplify the notion of beauty as the splendour of order (to paraphrase C.F. Ramuz on Stravinsky). Towards the end of Svyati the last note of the three-note minor scale motif played on the cello is raised by a semitone to A-natural. There is no resolution but an ascent towards silence.

The same three notes that conclude Svyati open the The Protecting Veil. Instead of a fading into silence the held A-natural seems to become ever more intense. It comforts but not because it is a relaxing piece. There is shade as well as light. In a secular age it is enough that Tavener achieved fame on his own terms and created a body of work distinctively his own.


Friday 25 October 2013

Review - Songs Without Words, Erik Bosgraaf, Mahan Esfahani, Anna Meredith, Aurora Orchestra, Kings Place, Saturday 19th October 2013

It is a truth partially acknowledged that the recorder is a victim of antipathy from two tribes. Musical philistines and sophisticates treat this instrument as a toy. For the rest of the public, their memories of the recorder are tainted by memories of sharp notes, spluttering and squeaks. It could be argued that the ubiquity of the recorder as a 'first instrument' in music education has worked against it.

But a renaissance has begun. Charlotte Barbour-Condini's success in 2012's BBC Young Musician Competition changed many people's perceptions. And Erik Bosgraaf's performance last Saturday will only continue this trend.

Berio's Gesti, composed for virtuoso and conductor Frans Brüggen, is full of the extended playing techniques adored by the post-war avant garde. Yes there was spluttering and squeaks - but this didn't deter the King's Place audience. The opening bars where the soloist just breathes into the recorder while rapidly tapping his fingers over the holes effectively turns the recorder into a percussion instrument. The lyrical is set alongside the rebarbative and multiple timbres inbetween. Bosgraaf held the audience's attention with a performance of agility and depth. It should come as no surprise that Pierre Boulez has given Bosgraaf permission to create a version of his 'Dialogue de l'ombre double'.

Even more successful was the seamless pairing of Bosgraaf's Bach arrangements with Berio's Lied. It was wise of the performers not to let clarinettist Thomas Lessels emerge from the back of the auditorium. Instead following the final bars of O Mensch bewein dein Sünde gross Bosgraaf and the string players of the Aurora Orchestra stood and payed attention to Lessels' playing. It forced the audience to concentrate on the lyrical beauty inherent in Berio's piece and Lessels' virtuosity. The fact that the recorder and the clarinet are part of the same woodwind family was made abundantly clear.

What all the Bach pieces and arrangements had in common was the element of improvisation. The score is more a recipe to be altered at will rather than an procedure to be rigidly followed. The absence of tempo markings in the opening movements of the Bach concertos remind us of the transient nature of these pieces as well as the uncertain nature of their composition. No two performances of the same piece even by the same performers will ever be the same. The performances here were not faithful to the text but faithful to the music's spirit.

Anna Meredith insisted Origami Songs is not a concerto for recorders and orchestra. Each movement is a miniature in which the recorder inhabits a particular musical world. Right from the opening Birds movement with Mahan Esfahani's rhythmic harpsichord playing there is a strong dance element throughout the piece. Meredith creates some wonderful textures and knows how to pair instruments. In Birds she paired a high register E-flat clarinet with a sopranino recorder. In a later movement she pulled off the improbable feat of having a bass recorder not just compete but sing with a muted trombone and (I think) a bass clarinet. In the absence of a conductor, the players took turns to conduct and give cues. Origami Songs is a theatrical piece that should appeal to any intelligent, open-minded listener. Not only should it be recorded but the score should be published as soon as possible.