The Electronic and The Contemporary at Sydney Festival

There was a welcome shift this year in programming for the Sydney Festival. Art Music made a comeback. Sure, there had been some inclusions in the recent past, but 2013 represented a significant change. For the better? Perhaps. Or for the worse.

Your correspondent sampled a number of contemporary offerings, with mixed personal responses. At the outset it is important to stress that all the performances warranted the effort, by audience, musicians and, to be sure, artistic director Lieven Bertels. What are festivals for if not to present the challenging and different. But sometimes, nonetheless, the fare is bitter.

Four performances presented real challenges: Ligetti Morphed, Sandglasses, Wreck and Chronometer. Some presenters delivered delightful examples of well designed music, intricately interwoven with theatre. The best examples of this were the active involvement of Solistenensemble Kaleidoscop in Semele Walk and the wonderful weaving of sound into the narrative of The Secret River. Less successful was the songwriting in Rape of Lucrece. Channelling Dylan and Cave in this instance produced rather bland music which added little to Shakespeare’s words. Kaleidoscop’s other interventions, as a chamber group at City Recital Hall, and the Art Gallery of New South Wales, presented a heady mix of baroque, contemporary and a wonderful Transylvanian folk piece, seemingly improvised but probably carefully rehearsed. yMusic may have had something to offer but time and financial constraint allowed your correspondent only a brief interface at AGNSW which suggested they were a lesser breed than their Berlin colleagues, Kaleidoscop. Those of us who pay our own way have our limits, so Sacre, Satie, and Symphony did not appear on the menu.

The challenging performances were, in many respects, the most striking. They begged the question: “What is music”. The outcome of the four experiences for your correspondent was clear: whatever your definition of music, it is imperative the listener can see a meaningful link between performer and the sound (noise) produced. The two worst examples of failure to demonstrate the links were some of Ensemble Offspring’s Ligetti Morphed pieces and Lithuanian import, Sandglasses. In both, the work of the “noisemaker” (for which, read person with computer) was so far removed from the players and hence the audience that there was little to elicit wonderment, emotion or any other feeling. In Sandglasses the fifth”player” morphing the sounds made by the four cellists enveloped in cylindrical light shows, was not even in evidence. So much for being part of the ensemble. Ligetti Morphed was, perhaps, an exercise in musicology. The average audience member was, however, left far behind in the mire of noise, wondering what the hell all this electronic manipulation was supposed to achieve. At least, in this case, the manipulating disc jockey was on stage. More conventional, at least in a contemporary sense, was a piece for two marimbas. A minimalist work, it brought back memories of Steve Reich’s Piano Phase, and reminded why there is so much respect for Claire Edwardes and her Ensemble Offspring.

In your correspondent’s defence it must be emphasised, he has spent time listening to the ABC’s “The Listening Room”. Audio files of sound shifts from distant stars have flowed, unemotionally, over his head. He has wondered at the early electronic work of the makers of the Dr Who theme, incredible and intensely moving, quite unlike the sound shifting vibrations from those distant stars. The Ron Grainer and Delia Derbyshire electronic work from 1963 has stood the test of time. Ligetti Morphed’s amplified resonances of two bass drums will not.

So why did ”Wreck”, involving a car body and a couple of percussionists (Jon Rose and Claire Edwardes) work, whereas Sandglasses did not? The difference was the abiilty to recognise the players’ influence on the sound produced. Hence a real transfer of emotions was possible. Who has not drummed their fingers, or a stick on an old beaten up can or found object? It is primeval. The audience sees the link and feels the involved. The visual elements certainly helped along the way, but here again they had context. Sandglasses, on the other hand, with the cellists in their psychedelic tubes, had visual impact too, but with out any possible discernible link between what the four musicians were doing, or what the light show was communicating. The audience was forced to wonder in silence what it could all be about. It was almost certainly not music. Only in the last few bars was it possible to work out some connection between the visible cellists and the invisible sound technician. Sadly it was too late to have any influence on audience reaction. The audience was simply not engaged.

The oldest electronic work presented at the Festival was Sir Harrison Birtwhistle’s Chronometer. To listen through this work was a remarkable experience. Sure, the location, with a view over the harbour, was ravishing, but the key was for the listener to have the knowledge that this was one of the earliest pieces of electronic music. Yet it had context and relevance sufficient to allow the intellect to gather it all up: the links between Big Ben and the sounds of London Town were subtle, but were clear enough to allow the emotions to respond. This perhaps is the clearest distinction your correspondent can make between music and noise. If the noise does not tap the emotions in some way or another, then it is surely not music. It may keep academics enthused and a few tech-heads excited, but know it for what it is: noise. Intellectual noise perhaps, but not music.

Safely Graze. Huntington Estate Music Festival 2012

It is not clear when the last locust plague hit Mudgee, site for the recently concluded Huntington Music Festival. But there is an unnerving similarity between festivalgoers and locusts as they mill around the platters of excellent pre-concert nibblies and devour everything in sight. All with a glass or two of wine, of course. But then the reasons for coming to festivals must vary. Is it for the music alone? Or perhaps the fellowship of a weekend away with a group of friends? What ever the reason, it is clear neither the music, food nor wine is incidental. So fail in any one of these departments and the organisers will be deluged with letters and emails from “Concerned of Vaucluse” and the like.

So what of the 2012 Huntington Estate Music Festival? Has a deluge of mail commenced? Who knows, but you correspondent suggests it to be unlikely that the whingeing from the 2011 festival will be repeated. The food, ranging from fresh oysters through home made pies, pates, pork and poached pears could not have evoked complaint. Nor the warm, sunny weather. The line up of outstanding talent could also have garnered nothing but praise, starting as it did with the gifted violinist Anthony Marwood, his brilliant pianist colleague Aleksander Madzar and an incredibly talented 20 year old clarinettist, Narek Arutyunian who astounded at every level of technical brilliance and musicianship.

So what of the programming? Were the issues which so disturbed some of the audience at last year’s festival in evidence? The answer is clearly no, although there was one bracket of cabaret songs from Fiona Campbell, included perhaps to cock a snook at those who complained last year. In a sense this was inspired programming, Fiona Campbell having such a glorious personality to match her voice. Equally inspired was to partner her with Andrea Lam, a wonderful classical pianist who was surely the Australian audience darling of the festival. In the event, though, Lam struggled a bit with the unusual task for her of playing with nightclub style. She acknowledged afterwards how hard it was to do all those things a classical pianist is trained not to do.

Artistic Director Carl Vine explained, perhaps for the first time, his model for Huntington programming. It is variety. There is no theme or direction either at the concert or festival level other than to have a series of works which contrast, the one with the other. This variety certainly provides an enjoyable concert experience: as Vine put it, two major works, themselves different in style, may be separated by an aural “amuse bouche”. This approach is probably appropriate for a general festival audience as there is definitely something for everybody.

Well, perhaps not everybody. The overall impression of the program was that is was designed to not offend. It was not in the least bit adventurous. There was no edge. Nothing to frighten the donkeys. No obeisance to Australian composers either, except for Carl Vine”s String Quartet No 4, the only 21st Century work in the whole festival. The cynics would suggest this inclusion was a deliberate marketing ploy to advertise Vine’s new collected string quartets album performed by the Goldner String Quartet. Be this as it may, your correspondent has a bit of a problem with artistic directors programming their own works unless there is some compelling artistic reason. Variety, given the extensive quartet repertoire, is not sufficient.

The most challenging work of the festival was, arguably, Peteris Vasks’ Violin Concerto, “Distant Light”. Vasks is not unknown to classical audiences here, having been an element of Australian Chamber Orchestra programming for some time. Indeed the ACO played “Distant Light” in 2005. The work was proposed, in this festival, by the soloist, Anthony Marwood, who says he was, as a violinist, significantly affected by the influence of Gidon Kremer whose autobiography was, in turn, a contributor to Vasks’ inspiration. Incredibly complex and moving, with indiscernible shifts in timing and mood, it was a credit to both Marwood’s skill and his confidence in the young players of the Chamber Orchestra of the Australian Academy of Music (ANAM) that the performance was undoubtedly the highlight of the festival: a remarkable and moving experience for all.

The festival opened with another highlight. Indeed in this case the whole first concert. The visiting American Enso Quartet provided a wonderful Haydn experience with a beautifully ornamented performance of the rarely heard Opus 20 No 2 quartet. This work was a game changer for the future of quartet writing. The unusual cello opening was delightfully played by the quartet’s New Zealand member, Richard Belcher, who produced a lovely tone throughout this and subsequent works on his Vuillaume cello. Following on was the first appearance of Fiona Campbell who won the audience’s heart with her rendition of Schumann’s moving “Frauenliebe und –leben”. Ian Munro provided sensitive accompaniment. The incredible theme restatement, on piano alone, which finishes this work was so movingly expressed that the audience seemed to gasp with emotion.

Clarinettist Narek Arutyunian’s first appearance was to give a sound and well phrased rendition of Brahms’ Sonata No 1. A serious young man he had at this first appearance not quite relaxed. But as he displayed his incredible dexterity and tonal colour in other, perhaps lesser, works such as the Sonata by Edison Denisov and a Spanish Caprice by Ivan Olenchik, he relaxed and was clearly another in the constellation of stars at the festival. His performance of the Poulenc Sonata was a dream come true. Ian Munro, who knows and loves the French idiom partnered in the Poulenc. His personal highlight was a remarkable performance of “Gaspard de la nuit”, Ravel’s tour de force that must make lesser pianists blanche. Munro also appeared in two duet works with Andrea Lam (Mozart Sonaata K521 and Dvorak’s Slavonic Dances). He is known to enjoy playing duets, but even had this not been the case, the chance to play with a pianist with Ms Lam’s many attributes, pianistic and in personality, must have given great pleasure. The third pianist to deliver the goods for all was Anthony Marwood’s recital partner through Musica Viva’s final international touring season. Whenever he appeared, alone (Ravel’s “Miroirs”), with others (Mozart K449 with the ANAM Chamber Orchestra) his performances were impeccable. His skill as a partner is outstanding and should be an example to all young pianists who may consider a chamber ensemble career. He never overpowers, even in the most intense and powerful moments. His performance of the Dvorak Piano Quintet with the Enso Quartet was masterly. Overall, this performance was one of the high points of the festival.

Apart from their Haydn, the Enso Quartet also excelled in a highly disciplined, precise performance of Ginastera’s Quartet No 1. Taking much impetus from his native Argentina, Ginastera produced an intricate and sometimes explosive work reflecting many elements in the Argentinian makeup. It is clearly not an easy work to bring off, but bring it off the Enso did with commendable power and precision.

In the face of all this it would be easy to overlook the interventions of G3 (the Goldner Quartet less Dene Olding) and the Australian String Quartet. G3, together and individually as partners in various works, displayed their well respected skills. The work of Dimity Hall is of particular note. A fine violinist she displayed her skills admirably, bringing pleasure to those who see her more often in a subordinate role. (Yes, yes. Alright already. Your correspondent knows the second violin in a quartet is not “subordinate” in any way. As someone said: “they have to play everything the first violinist plays, and in a much more difficult register.”)

The Australian String Quartet delivered sound performances, particularly their Shostakovich Ninth Quartet. One year down the track their cohesion as a quartet is coming along nicely. First violinist Kristian Winther appears to have taken some stylistic decisions aimed at differentiating the new quartet from its predecessor. While this is admirable, there are some difficulties with a standing performance, particularly body movement which at times appears a bit incoherent. Similarly, a tendency to a bright, edgy, sometimes aggressive tone which lends itself to performances of contemporary works does not work well with romantic repertoire. This was particularly the case in a rather unsatisfying Schumann Piano Quintet performance, notwithstanding excellent piano work from Andrea Lam.

As suggested previously, the ANAM Chamber Orchestra deserves special mention. Mere students? Sure. Could they play? Sure. They had but a week rehearsal time with Anthony Marwood before taking on this professional gig. They delivered on every level. Their Vasks did not miss a beat (and believe your correspondent: beats are hard to find in “Distant Light”.) It was completely professional. Their tone in Tchaikovsky’s Serenade for Strings was rich and pure. Their Bartok divertimento was disciplined and delivered with panache. They displayed attack and passion which they, hopefully, will carry over into their individual solo performances at ANAM and beyond.

The big finish, always, no doubt, a difficult decision for an artistic director, was a bit of an anti-climax. At least it was not yet another performance of the overworked Mendelssohn Octet. But in the event, Danish romantic Niels Gade’s Octet was just a charming work with little bite. Perhaps this is the lot of the string octet. There are about thirteen of them in the repertoire. But let’s keep trying the others. Maybe there is another great work out there. Shostakovich perhaps. Keep Mendelssohn for the very special occasions.

The Huntington Estate Music Festival will next take place from 20-24 November 2013. It will be another great experience. Try it.

Good Vibes: Lunch with Claire Edwardes (@claireperc) and Jason Noble. City Recital Hall, 14 November 2012

One reason for the success of Kathryn Selby’s “A Little Lunch Music” series at Sydney’s City Recital Hall is the wonderful variety presented. Not, of course, to forget the consistently high quality of lunchtime fare.

Yesterday’s concert was no exception. Billed as Ensemble Offspring, the lunch menu offered just two of the ensemble’s core members, Claire Edwardes playing vibraphone and hi hat, with Jason Noble on clarinets. While this combination of instruments may have appeared odd to the almost full stalls, something more likely to be heard at The Basement or Bennet’s Lane, there is no doubt the enthusiastic audience were, by hour’s end, convinced otherwise. The timbre of all instruments blended impeccably well, underscoring the confidence of the composers, all contemporary, who wrote works included in the eclectic program. It might have been sub-billed as a degustation menu.

A bracket from Elena Kats-Chernin opened the concert: first a cheerful rag for solo clarinet, “Peggy’s Minute Rag”, designed no doubt to settle the audience. Noble’s skill and feel for the blues had more than a settling effect. Rather it seemed to heighten the audience’s receptivity. The rag segued smoothly into “Blue Silence”, a heart-warming and emotional duet for bass clarinet and vibraphone, written as a sort of donna nobis pacem for those suffering with or from mental illness. The atmospheric line evoked by Claire Edwardes skilful mallet work was noble work indeed. There is a special unity in the way Ms Edwardes plays her many instruments which belies the perception of a percussionist as one who belts things with sticks. Your correspondent has not seen her play the bass drum, but suspects it would evoke the same aural and visual image of beauty as presented yesterday with the vibraphone.

That a composer should dedicate some quality time to writing a solo for high hat beggars belief. That is until the reality of the percussionist’s lot is revealed. Try lugging ungainly marimbas, vibes and such around, all the while looking after a couple of tiny children. Matthew Shlomowitz answered the call with “Hi Hat and Me”, an amusing work for hi hat and voice, which clearly fitted not only the bill but probably fitted into the kids’ stroller as well.

Continuing the light-hearted vein, “Bedtime Stories” from Tom Johnson blended a group of simple stories, spoken by Edwardes with a rather minimalist clarinet interjecting and responding. It reminded of a sort of modernist “Peter and the Wolf”, covering not one story but rather a range, from climbing trees to stock market investment.

Vintage Ross Edwards followed with “Binyang”, and “Interior”. Jason Noble played with clarity, bringing northern Australian spirits to Angel Place. Claire Edwardes accompanied on Aboriginal clapping sticks. Mark Pollard’s “Just a Moment” then continued the peaceful theme with an atmospheric vibraphone solo which again demonstrated Edwardes at her best.

A work by young composer, Melody Eotvos, called “Leafcutter” seemed a metaphor for a better human society, inspired, as the audience was enlightened, by leafcutter ants and their treatment of queen ants.

Dessert came in the form of a final bracket of works by Mark Glentworth (a vibraphone solo “Blues for Gilbert”), Lachlan Davidson (Autumn Cannon Ball for clarinet and high hat) and Andrew Ford (“Getting Blue”, for bass clarinet and vibraphone). Aside from reinforcing the vibraphone as a fine instrument for expressing the blues, the bracket proved yet again that a concert can indeed be ended with a satisfyingly quiet, if emotional, mood.

Ensemble Offspring can be heard next in “On Loop” at Carriageworks, Bay 20 on Saturday December 1 at 8.00pm. Details at ensembleoffspring.com

‘Petticoat Government’ – Light hearted input from R R Garran into the federal movement campaign. 1891

Celebrations are being held this week to commemorate 110 years of women’s suffrage in Australia. It seems the issue had come up in the arguments about federalism in the 1890s:

‘One man, one vote’ will not do here;
For shortly I presume an
Amending Act will make it clear
That ‘Man’ embraces ‘woman’.

Your mother-sisters-cousins-aunts-
The girl on whom you dote-
To satisfy their little wants
Are each to have a vote.

But that’s not all; once pass this Bill,
And more will be expected;
Once let your bride elect –she still
Will want to be elected.

But-happy thought! – their gentle ways
And pretty polished fashions
May wean the House from rude affrays,
And cool its angry passions.

Refining influence may yet
Save our M.P.’s from Hades;
A House of Lords we cannot get,
Lets have a House of Ladies.

That is, half ladies; let us do
As Noah did of old –
Draft male and female, two and two,
Into the sacred fold.

And single members – if not shy –
May then, in moderation,
Vary their heavy labours by
A little light flirtation.

And if the House should e’re incline
To weary of finance,
It can adjourn at half-past nine
To have a little dance.

We’ll read in the report next day,
Before we go to town,
That ‘White paired off with Mrs Gray,
And Black with sweet Miss Brown’.

Perhaps, indeed, – for who can say? –
In Houses so assorted,
Our legislators’ language may
Be fit to be reported.

The married member – oh! I grieve
To think how sad his fate;
His watchful wife will ne’er believe
Twas business kept him late.

She’ll scan division lists to see
If her dear spouse’s name
Appears in close proximity
To that of Mrs Flame.

She’ll ne’er admit his vote is wise,
Whichever way it goes;
She’ll take exception to his ‘Ayes’,
And criticise his ‘Noes’.

Late sittings you will have to leave,
And go home early, you men;
It isn’t easy to deceive
A lady of acumen.

R R Garran (February 1891)

Songs and Translations – The Translator’s Lot. Part 1

Could your correspondent claim to come from a line of fine wordsmiths? Perhaps yes. Great grandfather Andrew served with the Sydney Morning Herald from 1873 until retirement as Editor in Chief in 1885. His oevre can be found in the National Library, in the form of cutting books. Andrew also wrote under the pen-name Nova Cambria, with which pseudonym he covered philosophical, scientific and literary subjects. Grandfather Robert (whom I shall refer to as RRG) was an equally gifted writer, trained in Classics at Sydney University, this being the, then, way into the legal profession. A lover of poetry, he was awarded the English Verse University Prize in 1887, 1889 and 1890. He continued to write poetry throughout his life. His legal opinions, many of which are contained in Volume 2 of Opinions of Attorneys-General of the Commonwealth of Australia, had, according to that eminent jurist Sir Ninian Stephen, “an elegance and economy not all legal writing displays.” And lest anyone point to the size and length of that inestimable doorstop, The Annotated Constitution of the Commonwealth of Australia, let it be known that co-author Sir John Quick was known to lack skills of précis. Above all, RRG was a poet – one who could express music as well as ideas in words.

Sadly your correspondent acknowledges that reflected glory matters nought, and certainly brings with it no skills of erudition. But rather than wallow in the thoughts of an intellectual equivalent of “three generations clogs to clogs”, the idea occurred to allow something to be expressed, so to speak, from the grave.

This first “guest blog” expresses some ideas about that often vexed question: Should poetry and songs be translated into the tongues of other than the writers? This is RRG’s “Translator’s Preface” to “The Book of Songs” by Heinrich Heine, published by Edward A Vidler in Melbourne, 1924.

“To those who ask what need there is for yet another translation of Heine’s songs, I can only “stand mute”, and submit to the peine forte et dure of criticism.

But to those who take the uncompromising stand that the thing ought never to be done at all, I plead leave and license from the poet himself. In one of his letters to Alexander Dumas, Heine refers to Goethe’s complacent boast that “the Chinese paints, with trembling hand, Werther and Lotte on glass”, and claims that he, Heine can boast a more marvellous fame – he has been translated into Japanese! And Lord Houghton (I have read somewhere) has vouched for the fact that Heine once confided to a lady that he was “anxious beyond measure to be well translated into English”.

Well translated? There is the rub. Henly, in his essay on “The Villainy of Translation” says: “Heine had a light hand with the branding-iron, and marked his subjects not less neatly but indelibly. And really he alone were capable of dealing adequate vengeance upon his translators”.

That is not encouraging; and a translator stands in need of encouragement. The charm of poetry is elusive always, and is apt to vanish under his hand. And the strange beauty of Heine’s lyrics is specially hard to capture.

The very simplicity of the songs is the translator’s despair. If, to eke out the metre or the rhyme, he is driven to any awkward inversion, any elaboration, or worse still any “padding” – all is ruined. The least suggestion of affectation or preciousness – and goodbye to Heine!

This volume had its origin many years ago in an attempt to provide adequate English versions for a few of Schumann’s settings of Heine’s songs. The fascination of the task grew, until there came of it the ambition to make a complete version of the Book of Songs. And when the manuscript had been laid by for more than the nine years enjoined by Horace, the temptation to publish became irresistible.

I have omitted only a few early poems which, though they appear in his collected works, the poet’s maturer judgement excluded from the last separate editions of the Book of Songs revised by himself. And even of those I have restored a few lyrics which could ill be spared. The only other omission (one which goes without saying) is Heine’s own translation from his idol, Byron – for Heine also was among the translators.

I have had no theory of translation-except to be without one. The way of the translator is hard enough without that additional burden. What I have tried to do in the case of each individual poem is first to live familiarly with it in the original – to feel the whole of its charm before attempting to communicate it. And then the difficulties begin. Mere verbal equivalence, difficult as it often is to achieve, is very little; there are the harmonies of sound and form – the sly double meanings, sometimes quite untranslatable – the mysterious individuality of each song – and the easy swing of the free and often irregular rhythm. Perhaps, after all, the best that a translator of poems can hope is to give such an echo of his author as will send the reader back to the full enjoyment of the original.”

This, 1924, philosophy of translation developed, in later years, to be expressed in the Preface to “Schubert and Schumann – Songs and Translations”, published first in 1946 by Melbourne University Press (now Melbourne University Publishing). The preface begins: “These translations are primarily intended for singing…….”. Should the issue of singing in other that the tongue of the poet or librettist be of interest, your correspondent will oblige with Part 2 in due course.

Pure Pleasure: The Enigma Quartet at The Rocks Pop-up, 4 June 2012 (@EnigmaQuartet)

The overwhelming feeling, at the end of last night’s concert by the Enigma Quartet, was one of pure pleasure. Some blog readers may recall that this correspondent has been critical, in the past, of some groups selected by Musica Viva Australia for their Rising Stars program. This time MVA has got it right.

Sure, it wasn’t perfect. It was live, after all, with sirens and traffic noise from outside the otherwise intimate Rocks venue. But there was so much good about it: a concert containing three gems of the string quartet repertoire, played assuredly by a relatively new quartet made up of four mature musicians in an ensemble formed with what is reportedly a purposeful dedication to the genre. There was confident and precise violin playing, some lovely viola work and beautiful partnerships between viola and second violin. This was chamber music delivered in a fashion that any audience would enjoy.

The program opened with an excellent reading of Mozart’s “Dissonance” Quartet. Certainly it was a big rendition, but Mozart can take the solid approach. The Enigma’s sound is full and rich, an admirable quality, but one they may find on occasions also a difficult one to manage. That is not to say their dynamic range was limited. Far from it, and attention to the subtle emphases that are so important in this work were finely executed. But there were times an intense pianissimo may have added something. The ability to play really softly, yet with intensity, can add so much. But let that be the only quibble. There is much passing of phrases from instrument to instrument in this wonderfully constructed work and these were handled very well. First violinist Marianne Broadfoot’s playing of some of the intricacies of the first movement, as well as the violin sonata like parts of the final were delightful.

Peter Sculthorpe’s Quartet No 11 “Jabiru Dreaming” opened the second half. It was suitably mysterious and rhythmical, although the players did seem a tad tentative with the bird calls which conclude both movements. Perhaps a little more abandonment is called for in delivering this typically Sculthorpe effect.

The concluding rendition of Janacek’s “Kreutzer Sonata” (Quartet No 1) was appropriately impassioned, delivered by four women who may well have also been inspired not only by Tolstoy’s grim novella but also by the feminist instincts often ascribed to Janacek. There was no lack of abandonment here. Enigma’s great sound was very much to the fore in this work, so much so that at times it seemed the quartet built the intensity so quickly that there was nowhere to go even though the music could have demanded yet more.

The overall program gave everybody a chance to shine, with lovely performances by a group who certainly warrant their spell as Rising Stars. This was chamber music the way it should be delivered and the audience went home very happy. If you want to go home happy, you can catch a repeat of this program at Verbrugghen Hall, Sydney Conservatorium of Music, on Friday 20 July at 7.00pm.

Sonus Piano Quartet: The Independent Theatre, Sydney. Sunday 25 March 2012

Your correspondent might be excused for his admiration for pianist Brenda Jones. She is, without doubt, a fine performer, alone or as a chamber musician. She has, however, had some setbacks in getting together with a chamber ensemble with which to display her talents. First there was the Whitely trio with Sun Yi, a very fine violinist, and the redoubtable Patrick Murphy on cello. Their star shone briefly, when some health problems limited the commitment of Sun Yi. So, in a wise shift to a less well represented genre Ms Jones found herself with the Nexus Piano Quartet. This quartet was developing a sound following when the cellist, Patrick Murphy headed north to a job in Queensland and the violist, Jeremy Williams headed south to Tasmania. Cellist Tim Nankervis played with Nexus for a while but the group eventually folded.

Now, out of the blue, the Sonus Piano Quartet is born, with Aiko Goto playing violin, Jacqui Cronin, viola, Tim Nankervis, cello and the ubiquitous Brenda Jones on piano. The ensemble presented their debut performance at the Independent Theatre, North Sydney on Sunday last. For a Piano Quartet, the program was, um, interesting. The players actually presented two piano trios from the standard repertoire (Haydn Hob 15, 25 and Ravel) plus a relatively new work from Paul Stanhope (Agnus Dei – After the Fire). The only quartet work was the early Mahler movement from his never completed A Minor piano quartet.

Now, your correspondent could understand this programming conundrum: violist Jacqui Cronin had recently given birth and no doubt had a few issues with too hectic a rehearsal schedule. But the later programmed concerts do not feature a true emphasis on piano quartet repertoire until the third concert, when two works, Andrew Ford’s “Scattering of Light” and the mighty Brahms G Minor Quartet share the program with a string trio of Schubert. So, is this really Brenda Jones and Friends or a true, new Piano Quartet? Time alone will tell whether they are just a group who get together from time to time to play stuff. Ms Goto is of course busy with ACO and Nankervis holds down a job with the Sydney Symphony as well as playing with long established Seraphim Trio (with Anna Goldsworthy and Helen Ayres).

What, then, of the performance? Sunday’s opener, the wonderful Haydn “Gypsy Rondo” trio was carefully paced. Brenda Jones avoided the temptation to play the final movement at a breakneck speed, which so many of her virtuosic compatriots deliver. The result was a delightful and precise presentation in the way that Haydn trios should be played. Lightness, clarity and precision were the order. Brenda Jones played with all the subtlety and precision which Haydn requires. It was, therefore, a slight disappointment for your correspondent to find Ms Goto’s tone, particularly in the higher registers, to be rather over-bright, almost shrill. This detracted from any sense of true ensemble. The Gypsy Rondo was, however, played with panache in a true Hungarian spirit, with Aiko Goto displaying an ability to rouse the audience with gypsy spirit and movement. In the earlier movements, however, the trio worked a little less harmoniously than was ideal, suggesting insufficient time together, notwithstanding Ms Jones intense efforts to hold it all together.

Paul Stanhope’s “Agnus Dei” was perhaps the highlight of the afternoon. Alone with piano, Ms Goto’s tone did not, in this combination, detract from her performance. The work, opening with ethereal sounds, and glissandi on the piano strings, moves to a more intense period of catharsis before returning to an introspective mood. It evoked a true hymn to redemptions and hope, appropriate to the aftermath of devastation which had prompted its creation.

The Mahler quartet movement was a fun rendition of deep romanticism. Music for the body rather than the soul, but nonetheless most enjoyable.

To finish, the viola was again spared and the Ravel Piano Trio was presented. Your correspondent may be alone in believing this to be one of the most overworked masterpieces of the piano trio repertoire. Whether true or not, there is an absolute requirement that, if played, it should be impeccable, ethereal and pure in delivery. Regrettably, the light and sensitive touch of Brenda Jones was not matched by her colleagues. Again the obtrusive tone produced by Ms Goto detracted from the airy effects and the overall impression was one of insufficient time spent together to get the ensemble right. French composers are notoriously difficult to deliver.

All in all, your correspondent thinks Brenda Jones deserves better. All this group can offer is the potential to improve with her. Hopefully they will, indeed, grow with her. Otherwise she may be wise to seek yet another ensemble with whom to play. Players who can contribute more to the musical wonders her capabilities deserve.

Sydney Opera House: Can You Amplify This Please?

Last evening Flinders Quartet performed, together with jazz singer Vince Jones, at the Utzon Room, Sydney Opera House. Obviously, where an acoustic group such as a string quartet plays with an amplified voice, good handling of the sound is most important. Or so you would think.

No problem. The Opera House is Australia’s premier performance venue. Except that when Flinders arrived on Sunday afternoon for a warm up and sound check there was no equipment to be seen. The Opera House staff response was: “Oh, you didn’t order any”. Really? The booking confirmation sheet soon clarified that. So, equipment was hurriedly organised and someone to “do” the sound was found.

Unfortunately that left virtually no time for a sound check. The result was that the audio was seriously unbalanced, the mike placement inconvenient for the performer and the sound guy was so far off to the side he had no idea what most of the audience was hearing (or not hearing). The whole thing detracted from an otherwise lovely performance of works (by Elvis Costello –The Juliette Letters, and Calvin Bowman’s new creation, Curly Pyjama Letters) with words that demanded they be heard.

There will not be the same problem tonight at Melbourne’s Elisabeth Murdoch Hall in the Melbourne Recital Centre. They do their sound properly there.

So, is this just an isolated incident? Well, no. The sound arrangements were pretty ordinary for I Musici a couple of weeks ago on the Bennelong Lawn. Two concerts on the same day both revealed poor audio performance. This means no-one at the morning performance was listening with a view to achieving an optimum output in the evening. Those who attend the Utzon Room Series (I Musici) and concerts put on in the Utzon Room by lesser promoters than the Opera House (Flinders Quartet et al.) deserve better.

How about it, Yarmilla Alfonzetti? As Classical Music Producer at the House it warrants serious attention.

Erica Kennedy and Massimo Scattolin at the Salon, Melbourne Recital Centre, February 13.

Valentine’s Day eve in Melbourne brought an opportunity. The beautiful thing about opportunity is that it often appears unannounced and then dances before you, transforming from an anticipated formality into something more grand. And so it was on Valentine’s Day eve: a concert of violin and guitar music in the Salon of the Melbourne Recital Centre. The anticipation was pleasant and unremarkable. A concert billed as a CD launch.

Should have been smarter. The focus was Paganini and Piazzolla. When Paganini was not writing showy caprices and the like he, like many of his contemporaries, wrote joyful, melodious, romantic stuff. The sort of music the you and I of the period would have gladly played at home for family and, sometimes, friends. Piazzolla too. Not always the in your face dance style tango, but mostly introspective and reflective.

Your correspondent admits to being a romantic at heart. It did not take more than a few bars for it to become clear: this was a program for lovers. More than just “salon music”, something to carry forward into Valentine’s Day. An aural red rose.

The program was presented with spoken introductions rather than programs and notes. This was most appropriate for the style of the evening (although your correspondent did hear one or two patrons, clearly older than he, grumbling about being hard of hearing). The prefaces revealed the concert’s genesis at the Ballarat Organs of the Goldfields Festival that has been run successfully for many years by Stefano de Pieri. It was there Italian guitarist Massimo Scattolin first played with violinist Erica Kennedy. And an artIstic love affair was born. (Well, that is your correspondent’s view: a relationship based on musical trust, unanimity of purpose and enjoyment in playing together.)

The core composers’ works were split by two outliers; one of Scatolin’s own compositions, a delightful, elegiac work from a collection of four influenced by the natural and ever changing beauty of his native Italy, and a more traditional Malagan Dance work, both for guitar solo.

Not having attended lots of James Crabb concerts, your correspondent did not know that the tango had been banned by the Catholic Church (kill joys that they are, even to this day) nor the nature of the transition from bordello music to cafes, then nightclubs and into the main stream. Piazzolla was apparently taken, as a youth, to the Cotton Club in New York’s Harlem, from whence he derived many influences in his contemporary tango works. And so his evocative Histoire du Tango completed the evening, displaying in a delightful way how Piazolla was indeed a worthy successor to his antecedent Nicolo Paganini. They both knew something of love and the romantic.

Almost as a nod to the absence of anything too flamboyant in the main program, Scattolin and Kennedy delivered, by way of encore, a rousing performance of the Czardas of Vittorio Monti. The rendition was more Melbourne Recital Centre than Hungarian Tavern, but then this, sadly, reflected the audience, most of whom, it is to be feared, would not have received a Valentine’s Card the next day. Perhaps if they had let their hair down, stamped their feet, clapped and cheered they may have done better on the fourteenth of February, if not in other departments, at least in terms of flowers and chocolates.

Your correspondent will not disclose what this delightful entree brought to his Valentine’s Day, but if you should wish to embrace the opportunity and buy a copy of the CD ($30 ea. plus postage) email your request to erica@ericakennedy.com.au

Works on the CD are:

Paganini – Cantone di Sonate for violin and guitar

Paganini – Cantabile Op 17 for violin and guitar

Paganini – Sonata Concertata in A major for violin and guitar

Scattolin – Autumn from Four Songs for the Seasons for guitar solo

Piazzolla – Histoire du Tango (Bordel; Cafe; Nightclub; Concert d’aujourd’hui) for violon and guitar

A Guadagnini Mystery: South Australia’s is in the good hands of Sophie Rowell. But who is to manage the asset?

Strads are in the news again.
Testing shows modern violins are better. Or does it? Luthiers get excited. Isserlis gets hot under the collar. Goetz Richter writes to the Sydney Morning Herald. The Economist runs the story. Limelight Newsletter runs the story, and will have a Stradivarius History in its February edition. This is Silly Season stuff, of course. Truth is, the market is always right (well, nearly always). And anyway you’ll never get to play on a Strad, unless you find yourself an extremely wealthy patron.

In the midst of all this chatter, a quiet development has happened in the Australian world of fine string instruments, without, it seems, anyone having picked up the story. This time it is a Guadagnini, not a Stradivarius, story.

Astute students of the fine violin world in Australia will be aware that, back in 1955 the people of South Australia bought a 1751 Guadagnini violin for South Australian violinist Carmel Hakendorf, who, along with Beryl Kimber, had been selected by Sir John Barbirolli for special attention. Why Hakendorf was bought a violin but not Ms Kimber is not known, at least to this correspondent. Perhaps Beryl Kimber already had the Stradivarius she played in Europe a few years later. (What, it is reasonable to ask, happened to that Strad? If you know, please tell.) Whatever the reason, Carmel Hakendorf was the first to receive, on loan, the South Australian Guadagnini. Later, violinists to enjoy the privilege included William Hennessy, Jane Peters and finally Sophie Rowell when she returned to Adelaide in the role of first violinist of the Australian String Quartet.

Sophie Rowell played the Guadagnini until a fairy godmother appeared for the Australian String Quartet in the person of Ms Ulrike Klein, founder of the Jurlique skin care products company. Ms Klein had a dream of the Australian String Quartet playing on a quartet of Guadagnini instruments and set about finding investors to join her in a trust to fulfil her dream. Two violins and a viola have now been with the ASQ for some time, and it seems a cello will join the quartet shortly. When Sophie Rowell was offered the “Jurlique” Guadagnini made in 1784 in Turin, she gave up her previous violin, which then went into storage.

To leave a fine violin in storage seems odd. The S A Guadagnini Trust, set up by the South Australian Government to own the Hakendorf instrument has, apparently, a very rigid trust deed. Its trustees are whoever hold the positions of Elder Professor of Music at the Elder Conservatorium, head of the ABC office in South Australia and the regional boss of the ANZ Bank in Adelaide. It also appears that the bureaucrats who set up the trust made a fundamental error: all the money was spent on the violin and nothing was left for care and insurance. This was fine in days of easy money, ArtsSA having funded the insurance over the years, but clearly the lack of a maintenance fund was a problem, meaning the 1751 Guadagnini lay in the ANZ’s vaults for some time.

Then two things happened. First, Sophie Rowell decided to leave the Australian String Quartet, with the consequence that, from end 2011, she would have to give up the fine Guadagnini she had been playing in the quartet. Also, some time during 2011, Ms Rowell paid for essential maintenance work on the South Australian Guadagnini Trust instrument. Nothing was announced to the ultimate owners, the people of South Australia. The trustees, it seems were in lock down. Something was, however, afoot. It is not clear whether Ms Rowel approached the trustees to seek a new long-term loan, or whether the trustees approached her with a proposition. Whatever the case, it is clear that transparency was not high on the trustees’ agenda. What does the trust deed say? Is who gets the violin at the total discretion of the trustees? Is there a requirement for an association with South Australia to be considered? Perhaps the trustees considered other worthy recipients. Perhaps they sought applications. Who could know. Whatever the process, the decision was clear by November last: Ms Rowell would, once again, receive the Guadagnini on loan.

Now it is important your correspondent affirms his belief that Sophie Rowell is a worthy recipient of this instrument. She is undoubtedly one of the finest violinists in Australia. It will be a pleasure to hear her play the instrument, even if it is not as good as the Guadagnini purchased by Ms Ulrike Klein’s trust.

But the strange secrecy of the S A Guadagnini Trust is odd. The South Australian people paid for the violin. Surely they have a right to know what is going on.

What is going on seems to be a merger. Whether a take over (friendly or unfriendly) or a merger is not clear. But it seems moves are in place to subsume the S A Guadagnini Trust into the more flexible trust that holds the “Jurlique” instruments. Such a move apparently will require an approach to the South Australian Supreme Court. Trust deeds are not easy to amend. What prompted this development? Is this a positive move? What are the pros and cons? Will the South Australians who paid for the instrument be asked their views? Should a publicly held instrument be passed into the hands of a privately held trust? And why would a trust established to provide four instruments to a string quartet wish to control a fifth? Do they plan to become an instrument bank?

Someone should be asking these questions. ArtsSA and the trustees of both trusts should be giving the answers. Australia is blessed with very few old instruments. The management and control of those we have will mostly lie in the hands of private, wealthy individuals or corporations. Where the public has some ownership we should guard it well. Otherwise there may be a repeat of the Australia Council debacle with their Guarneri cello, sold in the 1990s.

Perhaps no one cares. If so that would be sad. A new, future generation of South Australian violinists deserves the opportunity to play the state’s Guadagnini. How is it planned to manage this peoples’ asset in the future?