Diary December 2023

FESTIVAL GALA #3

Brisbane Music Festival

FourthWall Arts, 540 Queen St.

Monday December 4 at 7:30 pm

This isn’t the start of Alex Raineri‘s annual galaxy of recitals; they began last month but details came too late to be included in November’s Diary. However, there’s plenty to report for this month’s exercises, which have been condensed to a one-week span. We start with this triptych of stage works, opening with Menotti’s venerable The Telephone of 1947 with soprano Katie Stenzel and baritone Jon Maskell in the thankless role of the suitor trying to be heard by his mental rag-tag girlfriend. No orchestra, but two pianists accompanying in Francis Atkins and the omni-present Raineri. Poulenc rears his sixty-years-dead head with Le bal masque, a 1932 song cycle/cantata with a Stravinskyesque chamber accompaniment, here reduced to Raineri’s piano with baritone Jason Barry-Smith taking on the work’s vocal line. And for the third course we enjoy a new work: Staged, by Raineri and Finnian Idriss which involves soprano Ali McGregor, cellist Daniel Shearer, and Idriss manipulating electronics. Pace Poulenc, I think this last may be the most interesting element of the evening even if – as usual – contextual details are completely absent. Admission to all events in the Festival costs $25 a time; don’t know if any concessions are on offer or if a booking fee is added but I suspect this last is a reality because the handling agency, Humantix, is donating all such fees to disadvantaged children’s charities. Is that any excuse for charging such an impost anyway? Not in my book.

SCHUBERT’S LAST SONATA

Brisbane Music Festival

FourthWall Arts, 540 Queen St.

Tuesday December 5 at 7:30 pm

This is, of course, the big Sonata in B flat – well, some of it’s in that key. The work is substantial, even without observing the first movement repeat, and its repetitions and elongations can both inspire and irritate. Whatever you think, it’s a beast for any pianist; few of the great can offer a complete fabric in the outer movements but there’s always hope. I don’t know this evening’s executant, Laurence Matheson; at least, I can’t recall any of his Melbourne appearances. He put in his time at the Australian National Academy of Music, studying with the estimable Timothy Young, but whatever he played there passed me by. Still, he’s a young man and you might as well smash your aspirational head against this sonata as anything else. Which he is also doing by prefacing this Schubert with Chopin’s Grande valse brillante: a rather amorphous title, given that it could refer to the Op 18 or any one of the three Op. 34 compositions. As a gender differential, Matheson has inserted the middle one of Fanny Mendelssohn’s Funf Lieder Op. 10, which is called Abendbild and for which the pianist will doubtless incorporate the original’s vocal line to a text by Lenau. Tickets are $25 with a booking fee.

LIGHTS DOWN LOW # 2

Brisbane Music Festival

FourthWall Arts, 540 Queen St.

Tuesday December 5 at 9 pm

Put those lights down too low and everybody will go to sleep. At this recital – focused for some, diffuse for others – festival director Alex Raineri will perform Morton Feldman’s For Bunita Marcus of 1985 – all 75 uninterrupted minutes of it. The composer’s penultimate piano composition, the work hymns his pupil/colleague/partner Marcus while also being a tribute to his mother; as an insight into either woman, it serves as a voluminous veil. Nevertheless, these days few of us have the opportunity to hear a Feldman work live. I’ve heard a few from the Australian National Academy of Music performers of which little remains in the memory but gratified surprise that the experiences proved more incident-rich than I’d expected from a brief encounter with this standard-bearer of the American avant-garde in the 1960s. Full marks to Raineri for expounding this work that sounds so simple and yet keeps the performer on the edge of disaster with its constantly moving time-signature changes and seemingly endless transpositions of limited material. To get in, you pay $25 plus the usual extra fee for daring to exercise your state-given right to a credit card.

ANGELUS

Brisbane Music Festival

FourthWall Arts, 540 Queen St.

Wednesday December 6 at 7:30 pm

Four performers in four works, two of which enjoy their premieres in this country: exactly what you want from a chamber music festival offering a wide range of experiences. First up is the evening’s title work from approaching-Grand-Old-Woman-status Mary Finsterer; written in 2015, it was inspired by Millet’s painting of two field-workers pausing for the mid-day prayer and will involve the talents of clarinet Dario Scalabrini, cello Katherine Philp, and pianist Alex Raineri. An Australian writer working in London, Lisa Illean wrote fevrier to a commission for Radio France (hence, you suppose, the linguistic barrier-crashing title) and it involves the same instrumentation as the Finsterer composition. Next comes a world premiere from local jazz saxophonist Rafael Karlan; no details yet (isn’t that always the way with your true improvisation-wielding performer/composer?) but I’m almost certain it will involve the clarinet and piano. Finally, it’s just a local premiere for Irish writer Judith Ring. Her fine feathers far below the blue floor makes plenty of contemporary sounds and involves Scalabrini, Raineri and viola Nicole Greentree as well as the airing of a supportive tape. Tickets are $25, plus a booking fee of unknown proportions.

MAHLER 4

Brisbane Music Festival

FourthWall Arts, 540 Queen St.

Thursday December 7 at 7:30 pm

We’ve become habituated to Erwin Stein’s reduction of this symphony which omits the bassoon and horn lines but introduces piano and harmonium (shades of Herzgewachse). Nothing so flash here. The instrumental forces are reduced to two pianos – Laurence Matheson and Alex Raineri – with Katie Stenzel‘s soprano taking on that theologically glutinous finale. The arrangement is for two separate instruments by Jestin Pieper, an American organist, conductor and arranger who published this version in 2010. At least it’s not another version that I came across written for piano four-hands, which would have condensed the action to the point of claustrophobia. Still, not much is gained by Pieper’s reduction, least of all the variety of timbres that Mahler crafted, especially for his concertmaster in the second movement. But it will make the last movement lied all the more welcome and Stenzel will enjoy minimal dynamic competition. Then there’s the point of mounting this work in the first place, with its hints at the composer’s smaller-scale-than-most technical schemata and instrumental arrays. Anyway, good luck to all concerned with this slightly-less-than-an-hour complex; it will certainly be of interest to those who know the original well. Tickets are $25 each, with the usual handling fee superimposed.

DECLASSIFIED

Brisbane Music Festival

FourthWall Arts, 540 Queen St.

Friday December 8 at 7:30 pm

Adam Herd is an Australian musician, originally from Coffs Harbour, who is currently living and studying in Finland. Well, he’s not alone in following that path as the Helsinki-Australia connection seems to get stronger as the years pass. Today he is presenting a piano recital, one that will already have been performed at the Espoo Cultural Centre in Tapiola country on November 12. What do we and the more aesthetically aware Finns get? Herd begins with three of the 1984 Eight Concert Etudes by Russian writer Nikolai Kapustin: Pastorale, Intermezzo and Toccatina. This composer fused classical and jazz, they say, although that was probably a big deal in his country. We move to the politically polar opposite with some Earl Wild versions of Gershwin songs, now become 4 Virtuoso Etudes: Embraceable You, Fascinatin’ Rhythm, The Man I Love, I Got Rhythm. A bit of a Scandinavian detour gives us three pieces (all preludes) from Norwegian composer Trygve Madsen’s 24 Preludes and Fugues Op. 101. Back in Finland, Herd plays two folk-song arrangements by Oskar Merikanto: Jos voisin laulaa kuin lintu voi (If I could sing like a bird can), and Iso lintu merikotka (A big bird, the white-tailed eagle). Finishing off an avian trilogy comes the pianist’s own arrangement of McCartney/Lennon’s Blackbird from the 1968 White Album. All that certainly denotes declassification . . . unless Herd is simply asking us to detour into non-Classical zones. Admission is $25 plus the usual ticket tax.

POULENC TRIBUTE #2

Brisbane Music Festival

FourthWall Arts, 540 Queen St.

Saturday December 9 at 10:30 am

Good luck for the French composer who is being celebrated just on his own merits, not for any notable anniversary of birth, death or lifetime achievement. This program comprises works that I’ve never heard live – a situation that I believe may also be the case with other festival patrons. Cellist Daniel Shearer appears tonight in order to play the Cello Sonata with either Alex Raineri or Francis Atkins; the score occupied the composer off and on between 1940 and 1948 and the result is generally considered disappointing. One of the pianists (or perhaps they’ll divide the labour) will play two of the 15 Improvisations: No 7 in C Major and No 13 in A minor. Then one of them will outline the Soirees de Nazelles: eight variations and a cadence, surrounded by a prelude and a finale, all of which occupied Poulenc between 1930 and 1936 and comprise portraits of friends in the best Enigma mode. At night’s end, both pianists will be engaged in the Sonata for four hands of 1918, a three-movement and brief (6 minutes?) product of the composer’s late teens. That’s the point of a tribute, I suppose: you have to take the not-so-good as well as the outstanding – following our national trait of being all-inclusive as witnessed by the recent referendum. Tickets retail for $25 with an additional charge for having the cheek to buy them.

HELLISH CELLIST

Brisbane Music Festival

FourthWall Arts, 540 Queen St.

Saturday December 9 at 1 pm

What can we make of this? The cellist in question, Daniel Shearer, is taking, as the basis of his expedition, Bach’s Suite No. 1 in G. He is theatricalizing it, promising us a journey to emulate that of Virgil and Dante, while he himself (presumably: no other performers are cited) takes on an ‘unadulterated character’ – which throws up all sorts of questions, the chief one being: who says you were adulterated in the first place? Whatever shape the dramatic interpretation takes, the musical one is going to give Shearer a big problem in that the suite itself lasts about 20 minutes. As the recital is scheduled to stretch between 1 pm and 2 pm, is he going to work through it three times? Or will there be infernal interludes to illustrate the Nine Circles? That would be a big ask of a composer who was known to be Lutheran conservative, not given to Italianate excess. By the same token, Bach could arrive at gripping depictions of Hell’s menace (Sind Blitze, sind Donner, for instance) and the consequences of sin. All of this speculation does nothing to prepare us for the reality which could be truly disturbing; I hope so. If you want to see this, it will cost you $25, along with a booking fee for your impertinence.

NOTES FOR TOMORROW

Brisbane Music Festival

FourthWall Arts, 540 Queen St.

Saturday December 9 at 2:30 pm

In this recital, patrons are treated to three works of some relevance to the program’s title and one definite throwback in Poulenc’s aggressive Bagatelle in D minor of 1932 for violin and piano; in this performance, Courtenay Cleary and Alex Raineri respectively. As for the prospect of tomorrow, we’re greeted by Gerard Brophy‘s new score that gives the evening its title; this also involves Cleary and Raineri. Composed in 1995/6, Olga Neuwirth‘s Quasare/Pulsare also asks for violin and piano (prepared); there’s no hesitation in my mind at nominating Cleary and Raineri for the performance. Now, the odd one out is a song cycle by American writer/guitarist David Leisner. His Confiding for high voice and guitar, written during 1985-1986, sets ten poems ‘mostly Emily Dickinson and Emily Bronte’, that have to do with fluctuating relationships. In fact, Leisner sets four Dickinsons, four Brontes, and one each by Americans Elissa Ely and Gene Scaramellino. To handle this work, we’re to hear Blue Stockings – luckily, a voice-guitar duo comprising Alison Paris and Chloe Hasson. For this partly-futuristic cornucopia, you’ll be charged $25 admission, with an extra fee on top to show that – like the world to come – nothing is as it seems.

THE FIREBIRD

Brisbane Music Festival

FourthWall Arts, 540 Queen St.

Saturday December 9 at 4 pm

Plainly, the high-point of this recital should/will be Stravinsky’s ballet suite. Actually, you won’t hear all of it: just the Infernal Dance, Berceuse and Finale in a colossal transcription by Guido Agosti which should test the recital’s executant, pianist/festival director Alex Raineri. Before entering this maelstrom, he’ll perform Rachmaninov’s Sonata No. 2 in one of its various incarnations; no matter which, this is a much-neglected marvel for the instrument that I must have heard only once live in a long span of concert/recital exposure. A few Poulenc gems are embedded as a continuation of the festival’s homage to the French writer; in this case, the Pastourelle of 1927 (the composer’s contribution to the ten-composer ballet, L’eventail de Jeanne), and the 1934 Humoresque in G Major – both brief and illustrative of the composer’s brilliant facility. To open his innings, Raineri will play the Australian premiere of Jakob Bragg‘s latest production for piano solo: Fourteen piano transcriptions from across the plane (plain). This was given its first outing during February of this year by Raineri in Huddersfield where the composer is writing his Ph. D. Bragg describes the work as ‘a surveying of the geography of the piano across a unique x-y axis notational model’; well, you can’t say fairer than that. You want in, it’ll cost you $25, as well as the usual churlish booking fee.

COURTENAY CLEARY IN RECITAL

Brisbane Music Festival

FourthWall Arts, 540 Queen St.

Saturday December 9 at 6:30 pm

The young violinist is expending her gifts on a solo program that stretches over a lot of ground. She begins with a formal flourish in Bach’s Sonata No. 1 in G minor BWV 1001: all four movements, including that well-used second movement Fuga. Leap forward 300 years and we come to local string teacher Stephen Chin‘s Three Capriccietti which I can’t find in the composer’s voluminous catalogue; perhaps it’s a score confided to Cleary alone. We move to a more senior Australian voice with Ross Edwards and one of the versions of his White Cockatoo Spirit Dance; in Cleary’s version on YouTube, she sets in train an electronic background of high twitters before she starts on the work itself. Anyway, this is familiar Edwards in Maninyas mode, the piece written in 1994. Back a bit to 1947 for Prokofiev’s much-decried Sonata in D Major; actually, I find it remarkably sunny and easy-going, particularly when you consider the constant menace facing the composer at this time. Now come forward two decades for French writer Eric Tanguy‘s Sonata breve in three movements across an 8-minute time-span. In the end, Cleary leaves unexplored the period between 1720 and the end of World War Two; well, it’s performer’s choice and this artist is playing to her strengths. You can hear her for $25, plus a charge for your charging it.

ROMANCE BY THE BOOK

Brisbane Music Festival

FourthWall Arts, 540 Queen St.

Sunday December 10 at 10:30 am

Here is one of the festival’s more well-organized song recitals in which soprano Katie Stenzel partners with pianist/festival director Alex Raineri. They are working through eleven songs in total, four from musicals/operetta, Britten’s four Cabaret Songs, and an art song each by Liszt, Debussy and (the inevitable) Poulenc. I know Glitter and be gay from Bernstein’s Candide because of the delight that every aspiring coloratura takes in yodeling through its arpeggiated arabesques. No big deal that I know Kern’s All the things you are which has been assaulted by everyone from Ella Fitzgerald to Carly Simon; a favourite of jazz combos for all its 7th chords, or so I’m told. As for Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 by Dave Malloy, it’s clearly a slab of Tolstoy’s novel and No One Else should be sung by Natasha rather than Pierre. Somehow, I’ve seen Into the Woods (Victorian Opera?) but have no memory of On the steps of the palace but, if it’s Sondheim, it’s more challenging than most in the genre. As for the Debussy, it will be C’est l’extase, one of the Ariettes oubliees; the Liszt is Oh! quand je dors; Poulenc’s submission takes the form of a sentimental waltz, Les chemins de l’amour. I’m not as enthusiastic these days about Britten’s Auden settings, probably because they try to hard to be louche and were published well past their relevance date (if there actually was one). But they please popularly – well, a good deal more than the Michelangelo or Donne Sonnets. And they slot in well with the Broadway material. You can have all this for $25, plus the added financial hurdle of a service fee.

CONCORD

Brisbane Music Festival

FourthWall Arts, 540 Queen St.

Sunday December 10 at 1 pm

Alex Raineri isn’t presenting a peace-inspiring program, filled with charitable wishes concerning conflicts in Gaza, Ukraine or anywhere more local – like Townsville. His Concord is the Massachusetts town, famous denizens of which place made source material for Ives’ massive Piano Sonata No. 2: Emerson, Hawthorne, the Alcotts, and Thoreau. I grew up with the recorded performance by Aloys Kontarsky which for me stands out for its authority and impetus amid a plethora of interpretations, from Ives himself to Phillip Bush. Raineri is serious about living up to the composer’s demands by employing the short-lived services of Tim Munro on flute for the Thoreau finale and a viola from Nicole Greentree for the briefest of appearances in the opening Emerson movement. The entire Concord is a draining experience for any listener, but festival director Raineri has added to our aural burden by giving the world premiere of Australian writer Lyle Chan‘s Sonate en forme de cri, which may also employ the services of Munro and/or Greentree (and/or Raineri, so non-existent is the information about this new composition by a writer who apparently delights in giving nothing away). As with several other programs in this second grouping, Concord is a splendid example of real festival fare. All you need to hear it is $25 and a strongly-exercised forbearance in tolerating the credit-card-use fee.

TEN OF SWORDS

Brisbane Music Festival

FourthWall Arts, 540 Queen St.

Sunday December 10 at 2:30 pm

The recital’s title puts us in in Tarot territory, this card signifying defeat or resignation to your lot – as well as the more optimistic reading (and there always is at least one) of recovering from disaster by pulling yourself together and striving against the world’s negativity. What any of this has to do with the afternoon’s music-making will become clear, I’m sure, as the program continues. To begin, the Blue Stockings duo of soprano Alison Paris and guitarist Chloe Hasson are presenting songs of their own creation. Whether these connect to the Major or Minor Arcana is anyone’s guess but it’s more probable that the Stockings are linking in with the mystical pack than anything that follows. Which showcases clarinet Dario Scalabrini and pianist Francis Atkins in three duets: Elena Kats-Chernin‘s Grand Rag of 2021 and nobody enters into the ragtime spirit with as much enthusiasm as this composer; Schumann’s Drei Fantastiestucke Op. 73, that multi-varied collection which can also be heard with violin or cello as the non-keyboard element; and a Fantasy on themes from La Traviata, Verdi transmogrified by Donato Lovreglio, a southern Italian flautist who arranged several Verdi-based fantasies – none more flashy than this one which treats Ah! fors e lui, the Libiamo with a Di quell’amor from Un di felice interlude, and a final flashy splurge on Sempre libera. In other words, Lovreglio didn’t get beyond Act 1; still, there’s plenty of lyrical matter there, God knows. To hear this split-level program, you pay $25 along with a ticket tax of still-unknown proportions.

JINGLE FINGERS

Brisbane Music Festival

FourthWall Arts, 540 Queen St.

Sunday December 10 at 4 pm

A Christmas concert of sorts, to give the festival an emphatically seasonal spirit, this program comprises works for two pianos, with artistic director Alex Raineri and Adam Herd taking us through the late afternoon. They begin with a work by the newly-discovered American composer Amy Beach who has been transformed into a significant figure in that country’s musical development by people who should – and probably do – know better. Here is her 1924 Suite for Two Pianos Founded upon Old Irish Melodies. Four movements – Prelude, Old-Time Peasant Dance, The Ancient Cabin, Finale – give you a virtuosic set of arrangements on some defenceless tunes that get subsumed in the composer’s generously applied decorations/ornamentations. Then comes the festival’s final Poulenc salute: the Sonata for Two Pianos of 1953. This is a solid, sometimes clangorous construction that raises for me the spartan concentration of the Dialogues of the Carmelites, begun in the same year. It certainly makes for a bracing contrast with the ephemeral nature of the other Poulenc pieces we’ve heard in this second tranche of the festival. To end, we are treated to traditional Christmas Carols arranged by pianist Herd; perhaps he’ll confine himself to Finnish ones, including (if the recital’s title is being taken into account) a Scandinavian equivalent to Jingle Bells. On the bright side, you can hope for a sing-along to really get you in the mood for the commercial orgy that is to come. All this is available to you for $25 plus a handling fee to Humanitix for charitable purposes – the only way to do business.

THE SOUND OF CHRISTMAS

The Queensland Choir

The Old Museum, Bowen Hills

Saturday December 16

You can’t purchase tickets for this event until December. I can understand such reticence; who would want to be organized too far ahead? A little more worrying is the lack of decision about a time of day. But, by means of intrepid research, I’ve concluded that this will have to be an afternoon concern because Josh Daveta and the Sequins are taking over the space at 7:30 pm. Also, the organization’s previous two concerts have been presented at 3 in the afternoon and I can read a pattern as closely as the next code analyst. Still in the guessing game, I’d propose that the conductor will be Kevin Power, since he’s one of the two choir personnel noted on the group’s website. By exactly the same token, the accompanist (no organ at the Old Museum, so it’ll most likely be piano) is Mark Connors. There’s no way of predicting what these office-bearers and their forces will consider to be Christmas sounds but the outcome will most likely be the usual collection of British standards with some forays into the American seasonal repertoire. All seems rather vague? Well, what I know, you know – and, at present, that’s all there is to know.

4MBS CHRISTMAS SPECTACULAR

Brisbane Chorale

Brisbane City Hall

Sunday December 17 at 3 pm

The Chorale is not alone at this concert but will be in collaboration with the Brisbane Symphony Orchestra under conductor Stefanie Smith. This afternoon’s soloist will be soprano Mirusia Louwerse, familiar to many from Andre Rieu’s extravaganzas. And what will patrons hear? As with The Queensland Choir above, details are lacking. Everything will fall under the generic heading of ‘Christmas Carols and other traditional Christmas fare’, which last seems to be a promise of food appropriate to the feast-day. At least this event has a definite time of day, unlike the concert listed above. But I note that this event isn’t listed online among the concert activities of the orchestra; either their contribution is too slight to bother mentioning, or perhaps their administration is unaware of the ensemble’s participation. However, counterweight that with the booking of the Town Hall – so they’re expected. Once again, I’m predicting the customary stolid British content that prevails during this country’s Christmases: comfortable, Anglican, spiritually numbing. Tickets are available for between $25 and $85; wherever you sit and whatever your concession/status, you attract a $1.25 tax that is just applied without explanation or justification.

Impressive Vine yield

MUSIC FROM THE NEW WORLD

Out West Piano Fest

Blackdown Farm, Bathurst

Friday October 27 at 4 pm

Andrey Gugnin

Yet another regional festival, this one dating as far back as 2022 and a treat, I’m sure, for the cultural habitues of Bathurst; just as the Organs of the Ballarat Goldfields week is for that city’s illuminati, and the Mornington Peninsula Summer events delight the effete palates of Melbourne’s beachside (ho ho) Prues and Trudes. For this second-time around at the same farm venue, the organizers have acquired the artistic direction of Andrey Gugnin, winner of the Sydney International Piano Competition (now becoming Piano+; move over, Elon Musk) in 2016. I’m not sure how the remaining events will go but this initial exhibition gave us observers on the Australian Digital Concert Hall site quite a bit of thick meat to digest.

Gugnin has put himself into the performing personnel, as you’d expect. He’s assembled a line-up of Sydney artists in Clemens Leske, Tamara-Anna Cislowska and Yanghee Kim (replacing the scheduled Sonya Lifschitz) and half of the program involved two-piano works, the afternoon ending with a barnstorming Rhapsody in Blue from Cislowska and Kim. Leske and Kim opened our new world ears once more to John Adams’ Hallelujah Junction; Gugnin and Cislowska worked through a pre-interval work billed as ‘from Bachianas Brasilieras No. 5’, but it was neither the Aria nor the Danca although the Latin-American inflexions came through clearly.

For solo work, Cislowska gave us a rich reading of Ginastera’s Suite de danzas criollas (five of them, with an incomprehensibly separated Coda), and Carl Vine represented us splendidly with half of his Piano Sonata No. 1 from Leske (the Leggiero e legato second movement), while Gugnin swept all before him with the complete Sonata No. 2 – a gripping interpretation that almost eliminated from one’s consciousness the work’s indulgent working-out in the later pages of the second movement that begins Legato, senza pedale but takes us well away from that on a virtuosic odyssey.

Like the afore-mentioned Victorian festivals, the clientele for this exercise looked elderly – as far as you could tell from the ADCH cameras. In fact, the youngest person in the place seemed to be Gugnin himself. I don’t see that this sort of enterprise is in any way calculated to bring in young people, particularly as the concert manager and Gugnin himself (during a post-recital address in limited English) kept on referring to pre-event drinks and post-event dining which, from my vast experience, don’t hold much interest for the new puritans.

The Adams work divides into three sections on paper but it sounds like an amalgam of several more elements than that. The composer’s inter-phase/out-of-phase technique is apparent at the opening but dissipates as the work progresses. Its initial percussiveness rouses interest but there’s not much subtlety to be heard; each player simply has to keep his/her end up in a tightly argued onslaught. Mind you, when the dynamic weight increases, you can feel your involvement fading, particularly in those frequent pointillistic chord stabs. Kim had the right idea, using a note-pad, while Leske encountered several moments of discomfort handling his printed score, opting not to involve a page-turner at this point.

True to its school, this score puts you into a mesmerised state as you move in and out of half-connections, the players seeming to enter a compact of rhythm and dynamic only to either drift through or hammer out of it. But, the longer the work goes, the more you wonder where those initial interface passages went – until, suddenly, they re-surface and your logic is engaged once more. For all that, I can’t find any link between the score’s title and the truck-stop of that name on the border of California and Nevada; the composer points to ‘junctions’ in the piano writing and rhythms based on the word ‘hallelujah’ but, while there’s no doubting the first rationale, the second is much harder to follow.

In any case, both performers weltered their paths to a congruence. Cislowska’s solo followed, showing a deft hand with the second Allegro rustico dance, especially the Ivesian 8-note right-hand clusters – all 33 of them. While the slower pieces wafted past pleasantly enough, especially the Bartok-reminiscent No. 4, Calmo e poetico, the aggressive, Panambi-suggestive faster ones proved more entertaining. I would have been happier with the No. 5 Scherzando if it hadn’t been missing about 20 bars of its second page (in my Boosey & Hawkes edition). But Cislowska continued the pattern established by her predecessors of showing the contemporary bent for sonic onslaught (albeit the Adams comes from 1996, the dances between 1946 and their revision in 1956).

Vine’s Sonata No. 1 movement presents as a toccata for both hands in tandem at the start: same notes, different registers over an 4-bar loop, the left hand persisting with the semiquaver-pattern while the treble becomes concerned with melody/cell work. Compared to the only other interpretation of this work I’ve heard (Michael Kieran Harvey, its dedicatee and initial performer), this version tended to become blurred later after the initial dry semi-staccato attack. Also, the onward rush was momentarily interrupted at bar 227. Still, Vine changes tack in the movement’s centre for La cathedrale engloutie atmospherics, albeit with plenty of added notes to complicate any harmonic predictability.

In this more leisurely phase, Leske produced a full-bodied and resonant wash of sound, giving us a fabric that displays Vine’s post-Romantic sympathies – before a return to the opening toccata busyness and the run of repeated figures that eventually dies out for a placid conclusion. A respectable interpretation, then, if not as nervously exciting as Harvey’s efforts. This was followed after interval by Gugnin’s realization of the composer’s second essay in the form (from 1997, seven years after the Sonata No. 1). During his upcoming recitals in Melbourne’s Recital Centre and Sydney’s Angel Place Recital Hall, Gugnin will repeat the work, and patrons will get a rare opportunity to hear this substantial product from a now-venerable Australian composer/pianist.

At the opening, Gugnin approached the stentorian double-octave chords calmly, giving them resonance room; then, keeping an easy hand or two on the rhapsodic rush of arpeggios that obtain from bar 9 on . Towards the movement’s middle, the pianist showed a relish for the lush writing that once again suggested submerged cathedrals, even girls with flaxen hair – the former in a solid meditation at the latter end of the movement. For all that, Vine extends his score for a fair while, happy to repeat his colours (rich as these are) and patterns, if not accomplishing much by way of formal complexity.

We switch to an irregular jazz-inflected atmosphere in the following legato, senza pedale where a loud bass ostinato supports treble clef block-chord spits. You can see why Harvey (again, its dedicatee and first interpreter) would have delighted in this sort of pianism – for its rapidity, bounding across the instrument’s compass, and its clarity of texture. Gugnin brings a similar authoritativeness to these pages, responsive to the Ondine washes that precede the climactic hymn preceding a final gallop to the work’s quadruple forte final smash-and-grab.

This is a remarkable testament to Gugnin’s dedication to some Australian music, never forgetting that among the works he performed in the Sydney 2016 Competition was one of Harvey’s 48 Fugues for Frank. Yes, he used the score of Vine’s sonata – but then, so did Leske. It would be well worth hearing his reading live in either Sydney or Melbourne particularly when considering the odd Grieg/Tchaikovsky/Silvestrov/Stravinsky amalgam that surrounds it; you’ll be treated to an unusual exhibition of mastery from a young artist who deserves all the plaudits he’s amassed so far.

As I’ve reported, the program ended with Gershwin’s sprawling rhapsody in an arrangement I don’t know; it’s not Gershwin’s own, as far as I can tell. To a certain extent Cislowska and Kim shared solo duties, although the former enjoyed what I saw as the lion’s share. You’d be too kind to call this performance a perfectly congruent one: it wasn’t, even if nothing disastrous took place although the final cakewalk revealed some slips. Yet every so often the players complemented each other very well; for example, their role-sharing at Number 22 (in the two-piano score put out by T. B. Harms in 1924) where the main theme is restated in C Major at a Piu mosso section; and the huge mash-up at the D flat Major splurge five bars after Number 26 in the middle of the work’s central cadenza.

Cislowska was left alone with the next big cadenza at Number 32, Kim only entering with those lolloping left-hand chords eight bars before Number 33 (the Leggiero call-to-arms). But the rabble-rousing double glissando interpolated before Number 37’s fussy build-up to the work’s climax struck me as vulgar and unnecessary. Not that such a flourish was too out-of-place in this knock-’em-down, drag-’em-out version of this jazz/classic warhorse which was big and blowsy, without any Bernstein-style sophistication. If nothing else, the recital’s start and end gave us sterling examples of compositions from America that reveal the national psyche more faithfully than anything out of Nashville or Graceland. And we were lucky enough to hear some Australian work that, in its ambition and elevated spirit, negated the reduction to cretinism exemplified by Dutton’s gaggle of nay-sayers, just as the United States shows at its wild and wooly best in Gershwin’s amalgam rather than at a Trump-led MAGA rally of the red-necked and scrofulous.

Illuminated, elucidated Brahms

OVER UNDER

Luke Severn, Evan Fein

Move Records MCD 611

This disc comes out of a long-term, long-distance relationship between Australian cellist/conductor Severn and American pianist/composer Fein. A marriage of two aesthetics has apparently come about here and the musicians have a fairly well-established performance history (USA in 2019, Australia in 2022) from which comes one of the two works recorded here: Brahms’ Cello Sonata No. 1 in E minor. Following the California/New York accounts of Fein’s first Cello Sonata, they’ve set down here the other constituent of their Melbourne/Bendigo/Frankston recitals: Fein’s second essay in the form.

And that’s all there is: 28′ 55″ for the Fein, 28′ 34″ for the Brahms; near-equivalent in temporal terms. But, while you can admire the American’s work for its coherence and bursts of brilliant writing, its thunder is stolen by the Brahms reading which is distinctive in its vision and delivery. Which is the chief problem with this pairing: much as you’d like to find high merit in the Fein, the other outclasses it, to the extent that you wonder why the composer didn’t think to give his work a less striking companion.

The modern work is in four movements: Serene, warm; Redemptive, resonant; Molto scherzando; Lively, playful. It begins with a simple rising two-note cell in the cello that expands on itself. Straight away we’re in a benign atmosphere of something approaching hymn music, broadening to a firm declamation couched in a harmony that Brahms would have found comfortable, if eccentric. Then the work seems to meander into an episode rich in piano triplets, shared with the cello, and a development that moves into new material, both instruments in a close interface.

Once again, the declamation arises and we’re in late Romantic territory – both firmly assertive and ruminative as the opening cell recurs and the exposition’s processes are revisited. This is a music of alternating moods which, near the end, seems to see the triumph of the serene. But not so: Fein ends with a presto flourish for both players; it’s almost as though he’s providing a contrast with the placid rhythmic tenor of his movement’s procedure up till now.

When it comes to redemptive music, I’m not sure what to expect; it could be anything from the Dies irae to L’Ascension, and a world or six of religious music in between. Here, we have a slow sequence of repeated chords in the keyboard under the cello outlining a well-woven melody that stretches for some length towards a climax, that breaks off and then resumes its path with cello and piano more synchronised in their thinking, although the keyboard’s initial repetitions seem to be the spur to action. We are led to a consoling stretch of diatonic affirmation that ends up resembling a Bloch cantillation.

A sequence of common chords leads back to the opening repeated chords under the meandering string line; the same crisis, with the keyboard sustaining its support for a final mellifluously brooding semi-cadence. In these pages, the emphasis for me fell more on the resonant, the performers reaching two points of impressive suspense, as well as a brace of powerful statements that emphasized the possibilities for broad statements. For all that, the harmonic language is, in the main, orthodox; we just have to accept this mode of contemporary composition that is content with titillating the past, not building on it.

The following scherzo strikes me as far from molto, possibly hampered by a rhythmic irregularity/juxtaposition that obtains from the opening but gives way to a smooth body of play across the movement’s centre before returning to round out this simple ternary structure. The instruments are busy with some clever canonic scale descents that inevitably bring Shostakovich to mind, if without that composer’s verve and ferocity. Still, I did like the cello’s final ‘bent’-note slight portamento.

Further reminiscences come bursting in at the finale’s opening, chiefly of Saint-Saens’ Carnival of the animals with the piano’s high-register tinkling while the string line follows its restrained jollity before swinging into an amiable, crowd-pleasing melody. Much of what follows appear to be variants on these two elements with some late attempts at post-impressionist harmonic adventurousness. But Fein doesn’t stray too far from well-trodden paths; just when you think he’s heading in a dissonant direction with an unexpected modulation, he hauls us back to the plain-speaking path of diatonicism. Listen to the final minute or so which is an excellent example of leading towards calm acceptance before a semi-aggressive, if defiantly positive, resolution.

I need hardly record the players’ obvious intensity and painstaking care with Fein’s score. Is either of them taxed by this music-making? Not that much, although some parts of the last two movements have their pressure-points. Yet the sonata presents as rather lightweight, for all the grandiose passages in the opening movements. Certainly, Fein has produced a highly competent work yet it doesn’t hold much that could be termed striking or original. Even its passion is tautly leashed and its appurtenances fail to catch this listener’s interest.

What follows – the Brahms sonata elucidation – is quite remarkable. In the CD liner notes, Fein observes that ‘we dare to hope that some of our bolder musical decisions allow audiences to enjoy this beloved sonata in a new light’. Well, to those of us with a long-standing affection for the piece (many thanks, Daniel Horrigan, for those hours of tolerant rehearsal), this reading offers many insights. The duo takes the first movement’s ma non troppo direction seriously; this is a stately progress through the first subject, its only defect coming through an over-amplification of the cello line. But Severn and Fein have a fine eye for the work’s inner accelerations and dynamic contrasts which make this allegro an absorbing experience, with a good deal of the commonly accepted bravado muted into the composer’s inimitable introspection. Only an odd misfired cello A in bar 18 disturbs the exposition’s accuracy, which is flawless on the repeat.

The most obvious of those interpolated accelerandi comes at bar 50 in the vehement build-up to the B minor explosion of bars 57-8. What follows is a masterful depiction of the descent to gloom across bars 74 to 77. Later, in the development, a gradual increase in tension starting at about bar 102 is accomplished by a simple consensus of dynamic heft working towards the fortissimo F minor resolution of bar 126. Further re-acquaintance with the artists’ approach comes in the recapitulation which follows a similar pattern of subtle speed and dynamic increases and subtractions, highpoints the cello’s vital high in bar 222, determines a dark-shaded coda approach from bar 235 on, and culminates in a moving processional across the movement’s final 20 bars.

Severn and Fein hit on the ideal approach to Brahms’ Allegretto. It is given a minuet’s lilt in the outer sections, Fein picking and choosing which staccato directions he’ll observe (all of them in the opening bars, more selective in the left hand of the second half in this section [bars 16 to 27]). Adding to this excellent clarity of delivery, the central trio from Fein is clog-free with a welcome lack of glutinous pedaling, despite the direction to sustain from bar 79 in my old Breitkopf & Hartel edition. This helps give the movement a kind of unity, ensuring a continuity of output, even if the minuet’s return still piques because of the absence of its trio’s continuous two-semiquaver-plus-quaver pattern from the keyboard and a reversion to ye old-fashioned rustic courtliness.

To end, Brahms starts out a fugue, but it doesn’t sustain its formal characteristics. Fein states the subject with plenty of detached notes; not quite abrupt enough to come under a staccato heading and still maintaining a melodic contour. And the first climacteric at bars 24 to 25 is a true Brahmsian welter, if one where the instruments maintain audibility and their lines carry distinctly right through the interleaving of lines up to bar 53’s light relief and the rubato brought into play at bar 61 where dance wins out; the same gentle hesitation that the duo employed in the previous movement’s trio. I was struck by an odd tuning error from Severn on the B in bar 72, and a Fein slip in the C minor triad of bar 93. But almost immediately, the lack of brutal teeth-marks in the closely-argued mesh from bars 115 to 123 merits strong approval for its communication of polyphonic stress rather than instrumental effort.

If Severn and Fein come close to your traditional Brahms thickness round the waist, it’s in the final pages from bar 152 and through the coda Piu presto which is, compared to the rest of the interpretation, thunderous and virtuosic in the best sense of serving the score through craft. It brings this reading to a highly satisfying consummation. In the end, it realizes that declared intention of shedding ‘a new light’ on the score which here takes on an unexpected transparency in its instrumental interplay and a welcome immediacy due to an enlightened approach to dynamic levels and care in sound production.

Diary November 2023

SONATA PROJECT 1

Yundi Li

Concert Hall, Queensland Performing Arts Centre

Wednesday November 1 at 7:30 pm

Yundi Li, laureate in 2000 at the Chopin Competition in Warsaw and the youngest performer to win that distinguished event, began a world tour in 2019. In that year, he presented sonatas by Schubert, Chopin and Rachmaninov. He’s back again with a new, all-Mozart program: the K. 331 in A Major with the Rondo alla turca finale; the just-as-popular K. 310 in A minor; and the K. 457 in C minor which prefigures Beethoven’s Pathetique, they say. These latter two exhaust Mozart’s output of keyboard sonatas in minor keys. As well, Li will give us the hefty Fantasia in C minor K 475 which was published simultaneously with the K. 457 work. That’s quite a solid night, exhibiting the kind of concentration that most artists avoid, and it’s particularly interesting coming from an artist not known for his Mozart. Li has recorded the delectable K. 330 Sonata in C Major and he played the A Major Concerto K. 488 with the Staatskapelle Dresden during a 2017 tour of Germany and China. But his most sustained efforts have gone into Chopin with a little spattering of Liszt. Tickets range from $59 to $179; mind you, I tried booking just now and was met with an ‘error’ message every time I followed directions to make a reservation. Nevertheless, what I do know is that QPAC will still charge its disproportionate booking fee, no matter where your seat is.

INAUGURAL PADEREWSKI TOUR

Friends of Chopin

Old Museum, Bowen Hills

Saturday November 4 at 7 pm

A group that’s new to me, the Friends are commemorating (a bit early) the Australian 1904 tour by Paderewski, the famous pianist/composer/prime minister of Poland who was the most famous of the post-Liszt virtuosi who came to this country to be met with a wave of riotous enthusiasm. As with most events presented at the Old Museum, details are there on the website, but scant. For example, participants in this recital will be the Orava Quartet – expert and amiable locals – alongside pianist Aleksandra Swigut whose main claim to fame in the Chopin stakes is her experience on historical instruments. Hard to tell what she’ll be using for this exercise but I’m pretty sure it won’t be a Pleyel, Broadwood or Erard. Now, what are these musicians playing? Two of the names are familiar: Chopin and Penderecki; Swigut will be exercising her gifts on the former, the Oravas on the latter – in fact, the third (2008) one of Penderecki’s four quartets. The third composer is Wojciech Kilar, once a part of the New Polish School along with Penderecki and Gorecki, but turning his back on all that to write your normal harmonically conservative, sometimes folksong-inflected compositions including a string orchestral work, Orawa, which ties in neatly with our string quartet. As for Swigut’s contribution, that will consist of the Piano Concerto No. 1 in E minor, probably with the orchestra reduced to the available four strings. Tickets move between $40 concession (with a $3.35 fee for nothing) and $70 full (shackled to a $4. 86 fee – the $30 difference in price makes such a difference in handling?).

SPOTLIGHT ON THE DOUBLE BASS

Brisbane Symphony Orchestra

Brisbane City Hall

Sunday November 5 at 3 pm

Billed as this orchestra’s final concert for the year, the BSO takes over the Town Hall for this program that highlights Queensland Symphony Orchestra principal double bass Phoebe Russell taking on the solo part in Bottesini’s Double Bass Concerto No. 2 in B minor of 1853. Not that anybody should have anything against the bass but this piece is interesting mainly for its relationship to the cello concertos of its time and a little later; from the first solo notes (and they come pretty quickly), we’re in the Romantic world of quiet complaint and melancholy, which obtains through a substantial slow movement, changing to something more aggressive for a polonaise-rich finale. Still, it’s great to hear this instrument treated as a lyrical voice, for once (no, Mahler: you don’t count). As far as I can tell, only the first movement was scored for full orchestra (11 wind plus strings) and most through-performances feature string accompaniment only. Conductor Paul Dean finishes the afternoon with Sibelius’ Symphony No 5: an unadulterated joy from first to last of its three movements, with an unforgettably sprawling conclusion: Finland at its most triumphant. The event will probably begin with James Ledger‘s Signal Lost, commissioned by the Tasmanian Symphony Orchestra for a premiere in June this year and here enjoying its Queensland debut. It sprang from considerations of Beethoven’s deafness coming on him about the time of the Eroica, and a parallel loss of communication outlets for us all during the COVID crisis. From the composer’s notes, cantus firmus/passacaglia/ground bass (to repeat myself) seems to be the main operating fulcrum. This piece asks for the largest orchestral forces among the scores being essayed. Tickets range from $20 to $40 with no credit-charge-managing fee, as far as I can tell.

ORGAN RECITAL

Simon Nieminski

St. John’s Anglican Cathedral

Thursday November 9 at 7 pm

In a building of this type, you’re bound to have a few recitals for this Norman and Beard/Hill, Norman and Beard/Simon Pierce instrument, if only to expose its extensive four-manual range. This time round, we have Nieminski visiting from St. Mary’s Cathedral in Sydney where he is assistant director of music, working under the newly-appointed Daniel Justin, one presumes. As far as I can see, the recital consists of one work: Rachmaninov’s Symphony No. 2 in E minor, as transcribed by this performer. Well, that’s a 50-minute extravaganza, well-known to Melbourne Symphony Orchestra patrons of a certain age because of Hiroyuki Iwaki’s enthusiasm for it. You’d have to suppose that Nieminski will enjoy himself finding the variety of colours needed to animate this sometimes voluptuously expansive score; I’m thinking of that broad-beamed A Major Adagio and the ejaculation-rich E Major finale. Good luck to him; as far as I can find, nobody else has made another such transliteration of this score. Tickets range from $20 concession to $35, school students admitted free; there’s a 50-cents booking fee, which sounds about right, if you have to charge such a thing at all.

CHOPIN & THE MENDELSSOHNS

Australian Chamber Orchestra

Concert Hall, Queensland Performing Arts Centre

Monday November 13 at 7 pm

Rounding out our Chopin piano concerto experience for this month, here comes Polina Leschenko with the No. 2 in F minor, also in an arrangement for string support only. There’s precedent for this, with an arrangement for string quintet being published by Breitkopf und Hartel in 1836; added to which, the composer has suffered from being faulted as an orchestrator for nearly two centuries. As for the Mendelssohns, we first get to enjoy Fanny’s String Quartet in E flat Major of 1834, a work her brother disapproved of for its formal eccentricity (what a Victorian prude he was) but of which she changed not a note. We’ll be hearing a string orchestra transcription but so far I can’t find a name behind this expansion of forces. To end, we have Richard Tognetti, the ACO’s artistic director, collaborating with Leschenko in Felix’s Concerto for Violin and Piano in D minor. This will be the original version with string accompaniment only, as distinct from the later orchestration involving winds and timpani. Mind you, this work was a product of the composer aged 14, so don’t expect too much; it’s sturdy enough but, to my ears, completely unmemorable. Seats are priced between $59 and $149 with an astonishing $8.50 ‘handling fee’, which sounds like an extra service from a brothel, although there you get value for money.

MICRO-MASTERPIECES

Queensland Symphony Orchestra

Concert Hall, Queensland Performing Arts Centre

Friday November 17 at 11:30 am

To kill off the year in its regular venue (as opposed to the Lyric Theatre where the players will congregate for three rounds of the Wagner Ring in December), the QSO is being controlled by chief conductor Umberto Clerici. As part of an unremarkable observance that takes in the last three Mozart symphonies over three years (really?), the program glories in the Symphony No. 39 in E flat which may see the repeats observed in its finale. Clerici begins with Rossini’s Overture to The Barber of Seville – a joy in any context, even this specious one: the Italian is his country’s answer to Mozart. Also in this collection of small chefs d’oeuvre we find Prokofiev’s Symphony No. 1, called Classical. More Haydn than Mozart, this score is a diatonic marvel which demonstrates the composer’s melodic felicity and brilliantly appropriate orchestrational skill. In his QSO website puff-piece, Clerici talks about the Schubert Symphony No. 5 and this composer’s admiration for Mozart; but the work is not included in the program list below these prefatory remarks. If it were, the program would blow out from about 50 minutes’ worth to over 77 – improbable as the event is scheduled to take 65 minutes without interval. Tickets move between $45 for a student to $130 full price, both despoiled by the $7.20 hyper-charge for employing the only currency available: credit card.

This program will be repeated on Saturday November 18 at 7:30 pm.

A JOYFUL NOISE

Brisbane Chorale

Brisbane City Hall

Sunday November 19 at 3 pm

For this afternoon, patrons can be assured of two works, the first being Vaughan Williams’ Five Mystical Songs. I’m assuming the version being offered is that for baritone solo (and who would that be?) with SATB choir and orchestra. For this afternoon, the only musicians mentioned are the John Coulton Brass Ensemble and organist Christopher Wrench – along with regular conductor Emily Cox. I’m sure something practicable will be cobbled together, if stretching the sources specified by the composer. As well, we’re to hear John Rutter’s Gloria for choir, brass, percussion and organ (or orchestra if there’s one lying around). which has for me reminiscences of Belshazzar’s Feast, if not as dramatic or daring. Both these add up to about 40 minutes of listening experience, but the promotional material offers ‘ . . . and more!’ Such a prospect dizzies with its suggestiveness and I question what could cap these two British choral gems but more of the same? You can buy tickets for between $15 and $60, with a ‘Fees & Charges’ tax of $1.25; I suppose this is small enough, especially when compared to other organizations’ unreasonable levies, but why have it at all?

WILDSCHUT & BRAUSS

Musica Viva Australia

Conservatorium Theatre, Griffith University

Wednesday November 23 at 7 pm

This violin/piano duo is here at the half-way point of a national tour. As far as I can see, Noa Wildschut (violin) and Elisabeth Brauss (piano) have no long-standing relationship, if you judge by their published schedules. Following the practice of many another Musica Viva guest ensemble,, they are presenting two programs, although there’s only one major difference between them. Common elements are Schumann’s Violin Sonata No. 1 in A minor, Messiaen’s early Theme et variations, Debussy’s late (final) G minor Violin Sonata, and an Australian novelty in May Lyons’ Forces of Nature, commissioned for this tour (as is Musica Viva’s wont). The point of difference is that half of the recitals will hear Enescu’s folklore-infused Violin Sonata No. 3 in A minor; the other half (including Brisbane) have to settle for that welcome war-horse, Franck’s A Major (eventually) Violin Sonata. Well, these artists may not meet again after this set of recitals, but at least they’ll always have Australia. Tickets move between $15 and $109; I don’t think there are any extra charges.

HANDEL’S MESSIAH

Oriana Choir

Brisbane City Hall

Sunday November 26 at 3 pm

Thank God: for a moment I thought the barbarians had taken over and our annual Christmas dose of Handel’s oratorio wasn’t going to be spooned out. But here it is, presented by a near-20-years-old Sunshine Coast organization. Oriana has again gained the services of Andrew Wailes, long-time director of Melbourne’s Royal Philharmonic Choir and a consistent presence in a remarkable number of other choral bodies; in my experience, he has directed several outstanding performances of choral+orchestral music. He also has the outstanding quality among musicians of not measuring out his friendship in proportion to favourable reviews. His soloists are soprano Elisabeth Wallace Gaedtke, contralto Anne Fulton, tenor Tobias Merz, and bass Jason Barry-Smith – locals all, these days. But the bulk of the work falls to the chorus which, from its websites, sounds ultra-enthusiastic. The Sinfonia of St. Andrew’s will provide the instrumental support and this performance will follow an out-pf-town reading on the preceding night in Buderim. You can hear the Brisbane performance for between $15 and $55, with that usual added surcharge of $1,25 that seems to be peculiar to Brisbane Town (city) Hall presentations.

ZEPHYR: VOICE WITH WINDS

Brisbane Chamber Choir

St. John’s Anglican Cathedral

Sunday November 26 at 3 pm

This body is singing on its home turf in St. John’s where it is chamber choir in residence, but it also has strong affiliations with the University of Queensland School of Music with which it is affiliated. Its conductor is (and has always been) Graeme Morton, who is an eminence at both the cathedral and university. Alongside the singers we’ll hear a double wind quintet from the UQ School of Music, cellist Patrick Murphy, soprano saxophone Diana Tolmie, and organist Andrej Kouznetsov who is Morton’s assistant at the cathedral. As to what is on the program, details are scanty. Front and centre will be Stravinsky’s Mass for Mixed Chorus and Double Wind Quintet, the latter comprising two oboes, cor anglais, two bassoons, two trumpets and three trombones. All well and good; I’ve not heard this score in live performance and would appreciate the opportunity. But it lasts – at best – 20 minutes. Now we’re promised other music that puts voices and winds together but no details are available. Still, if you put your trust in these performers, you’ll give them the benefit of a fairly solid doubt. And, who knows? Perhaps the other works might explain the event’s title. Admission falls between $20 and $50 with a 50 cent booking fee per seat – which is cheap but irrational.

An amiable window into the Baroque

BACH PIANO 2

Judith Lambden

Move Records MCD 653

For the first of her Bach CDs for Move, released in 2021, Lambden presented four of the toccatas, the Italian Concerto, and the Chromatic Fantasia and Fugue: a deft combination of the present-but-unexplored alongside two familiar scores. Something of the same combination obtains in this latest offering which comprises five works. Those that have general currency are the French Overture BWV 831 and the Capriccio on the departure of a beloved brother BWV 992. As for the arcana – well, I have barely encountered them – they begin with the Overture in F Major BWV 820, move to the Aria variata alla maniera italiana BWV 989, and wind up in the perplexing Fantasia and Fugue in A minor BWV 944.

Unlike a few recent publications on this label, Lambden’s CD runs a substantial length at 76 minutes (actually, adding up the individual tracks, I believe that it comes in closer to 79); nearly 33 of these are taken up with the first eight tracks: the French Overture, or Overture in the French style which is the longest suite in Bach’s keyboard catalogue. Immediately, you can see that this offering is a continuation of the pianist’s 2021 disc; there’s an authority at work but the performance is not a perfectly bland surface with everything in its allotted place. You can hear patches – no, seconds – of unevenness: glossed over notes in brief runs during the Ouverture‘s stately preamble (e.g., second time through, last three right-hand notes of bar 14), a slight slowing down as the voices accrete in the 6/8 fugal-gigue that follows.

And there are also interpolated passages of play that deliberately slow down the rhythmic inevitability beloved of contemporary performers who operate their Bach craft with metronomic regularity. You can hear plenty of examples in Lambden’s progress through this marvel, as at halfway through bar 85 when she simply changes gears, or the slight accelerations that push the envelope, like in bar 115 and beyond. The return of the stately opening impresses as more individual and imaginative with a more free approach to metrical regularity. I don’t want to complain too much but the executant refrains from repeating bars 20 to 163; yes, it’s exhausting for the pianist but there are so many linear delights to be savoured in these pages.

Still, this suit-yourself approach is everywhere in the following Courante which is packed with small pauses throughout, in both hands. The fluency is hard to cotton on to until the first half’s repeat where you learn to make adjustments for the piece’s occasionally fitful outline. During the Gavotte I‘s left-hand semiquaver groupings, you can detect some notes being articulated unevenly the first time round. on the return, nothing is out of place, each group sounding true and clear. Lambden treats the pair of Passepieds with a similar studied nonchalance which results in a certain amount of latitude with ornaments, as the start of bar 28 on each of its three appearances.

But there’s something to be said for this room-space. For sure, when the musician is taking time to insert acciaccature, mordents and appoggiature, you won’t be able to dance this suite with absolute certainty; but is Bach writing for potential footloose and fancy-free Leipzigers, or just using the form? The latter, of course., so Lambden is quite at liberty to pause where she sees a hiatus point, or – consoling the dodgy pianists among us – where the going gets a tad tough. I’ve got nothing but praise for the mobile Sarabande which is given without exaggerated gravity, notably in the thick (relatively) chords of bars 24 and 25.

The Bourrees enjoy direct treatment, especially the first where the opening detached note approach rouses us from a bucolic torpor. Still, there is the occasional missed (or misfired, probably) note and the slight ritardandi in Bourree II puzzle more than please. The Gigue that follows is handled with excellent calm; nothing is hammered in this chaste framework and the outlook is almost placid, even if a few (two?) notes go missing in the little bursts of semi-scalar fioriture/demi-semiquavers. Finally, the Echo swaggers past amiably, my only problem Lambden’s lengthening some of the bass quavers (bars 22 to 25, then bars 54 to 57) which brings to mind, in a small way, Busoni’s Bach transcription exaggerations.

This large-scale work is followed by a small relative in the BWV 820. Its short Ouverture is packed with ornaments in its opening 13 bars, a few of them wisely omitted here. Then the 3/8 burst into fugato energy comes across with quiet security that is rarely ruffled – although I’m coming round to thinking that those short breathing-spaces (scarcely that, in fact) are Lambden’s system of punctuating the work’s thrust, avoiding the Tic-toc-choc metallic assembly-line approach. In the Entree, this player introduces a great many more dotted quaver-semiquaver patterns than occur in my admittedly antique Breitkopf und Hartel score. Nevertheless, here the slow march holds the right Charpentier strut in its slight two-part sinews.

Not much to report about the Menuet-plus-Trio, Bourree or Gigue. As with the post-Ouverture dances in the BWV 831, Lambden observes every repeat faithfully, offering a piano repeat on the odd occasion but for the most part retaining those ornaments that she introduces first time through. Mind you, these three dance movements are brief and lacking in digital complications; Lambden’s slight rhythmic relaxations prove handy enough in adding some quirkiness to what are simple and internally repetitive structures.

Some desperates have been pointing to the Capriccio as one of the first examples of tone-poem narrative in Western music. Not really: it had plenty of choral and instrumental antecedents. But its brief pages hold some moving emotional content, especially in the Friends, Dangers, Lament and Farewell segments, Lambden making affecting work of the first, third and fourth of these scenes while somehow suggesting the Goldbergs‘ penultimate Quodlibet in the angular second. Especially honest is the melancholy character realized in the Lament mini-passacaglia, and the well-there-he-goes stolidity of the brief Abschied.

About the two concluding Postilion movements, I’m not so sure. There’s nothing urgent about the Aria which doesn’t propose a speedy journey but more of a leisurely jog as the octave jumps that are intended to imitate the driver’s instrument have no bite or energy. The Fugue would have gained from a more rapid tempo and a good deal more energy in the thicker meshes (bars 27 to 38, for example; even bars 45 to 47). Still, Lambden works through this last with careful craft, making as much as possible from one of the least satisfying final bars in the composer’s output.

Once again, the performer indulges in more hesitations and pauses while she works through the Aria variata’s unremarkable arches, laden on during the repeats with ornaments delineated in my edition. It sets up a ruminative atmosphere which is probably for the best with this undistinguished material. The trouble is that few of the following 10 variations have much to delight in them, but more an unusual number of disappointments, like Variation 2 with its going-nowhere triplets (bars 5 and 6); ditto Variation 3‘s bar 7; the aimless right-hand repetitions of shape and actual notes across Variation 5. In fact, it seems that inspiration flagged pretty consistently in the third bar of each variation’s second part. So much so, that it’s a relief to get back to the Aria‘s paraphrase in the final Variation 10.

It seems to me that Lambden is not really challenged by this work, its twists and turns rarely unpredictable – on a par with the preceding Capriccio. But her reading is composed and undemonstrative, the strands well balanced and distinctive, if some of the phrasing shapes sound a tad contrived and the short suspension of action for the sake of a grace note starts to grate in the repeats. Speaking of which, the second part of Variation 9 is not played again: a shock in continuity as every other part of this work is given a second run-through.

To end, we are offered the BWV 944, which opens with a fantasia that you improvise yourself on a series of 18-and-a-half chords, with the between-staves interpolation ‘Arpeggio’. Some publications spell it out with arpeggios travelling from one hand to the other; Lambden goes the same route but arpeggiates in contrary motion simultaneously. Nothing unusual in that, although it’s a rather ordinary way of negotiating the problem. Still, you can go a long way before you find somebody with an original take on these 10 bars, e.g. not just splaying out the chords or maintaining their written range.

The fugue opens bravely and confidently but the arrival of the third voice in bar 18 sees some initial fumbling and, by the time we get all bass-operative at bar 38, the pace has slowed, only to pick up a little further on. Also, the executant seems to slow down to accommodate a cadential trill too often for comfort. She finds the going tough from about bar 106 on to the bass pedal B that lasts for 4-and-two-third bars at the work’s centre; the polyphonic interplay here sounds laboured – which it is but it shouldn’t come across that way.

Near the end, the spirit of Liszt/Busoni takes over and there is a pronounced acceleration from about 19 bars before the conclusion, the dynamic level moves into a near fortissimo level, and the approach to the fugue’s concluding bars smacks of the grandiose. Mind you, the player can hardly be blamed for a touch of triumphalism after this active, long web of fabric. It makes for an unexpectedly assertive last word to this disc that is for the greater part characterized by restraint and a pliant, relaxed approach to rhythmic regularity. These offerings bring together an interesting range of works – from the highly demanding to the simple – and reinforce Lambden’s standing as a sincere and informed interpreter of Bach’s keyboard catalogue.

They don’t forget; nor will you

VISION STRING QUARTET

Musica Viva Australia

Conservatorium Theatre, Griffith University, South Bank

Tuesday September 26, 2023

(L to R) Daniel Stoll, Florian Willeitner, Sander Stuart, Leonard Disselhorst

These latest guests for Musica Viva were here on the fourth leg of their national tour after performing in Newcastle, Melbourne and Hobart, from which last they were lucky to escape after sharing the national problem of flight delays/cancellations. Anyway, they got here with a couple of hours to spare and the experience didn’t seem to do them any harm, if you judge the situation by their extraordinary exhibition on Tuesday evening.

The big feature about the Visions is that they play from memory; not all the time, apparently, but all the way on this, their first Australian appearance. It seems that the German ensemble is presenting one program only as they move through all the state and territory capitals except Darwin. They begin with a brief Bloch Prelude, subtitled Receuillement in the best Baudelairean tradition: a five-minute effusion of mild passion. They end with Dvorak No 13 in G Major which celebrates – at length – being back home in Bohemia’s woods and fields after the composer’s mixed American experiences.

But what astounds is their reading from memory of Bartok No. 4, allegedly in C minor. This is a tour de force, not only of the obvious – learning the complex by heart – but also in the energetic certainty of the group’s interpretation. Here, what you are invited into is a radically new way of listening where the performers don’t focus on the printed notes but have internalized them so that their linear relationships aren’t just cerebral but totally physical. No screening from music stands or occasional eye-flicks: these four musicians focus on their collegiality where each knows exactly where and what his contribution is.

The result is that this searing music gains immeasurably, being presented as an unmediated entity and appearing (even though this cannot possibly be true) like a colossal exercise in shared improvisation. Of course, it isn’t: Bartok’s score is a solid object and the Visions work through it like so many quartets have done since March 1929. The difference is that these players have internalized every scrap and prepared it so thoroughly that you feel unshakeable confidence in their work. In the opening Allegro, the shared demi-semiquaver shakes that start at bar 58 have never sounded as uniform; each canonic pattern took on a cutting edge, e.g. the non-fugato from bar 104. Then there was that breath-taking escalation of tension that breaks out at the bar 126 Piu mosso where the action is too swift to imbibe.

Speaking of which, the Lyric Suite-indebted Prestissimo showed the benefits of knowing your place in an organism because it’s in your brain, rather than using the score as an aide-memoire. Here again, the interdependence proved absolute and justified, the ensemble grouping closely around the fulcrum of cellist Leonard Disselhorst as the motivic wisps swelled and faded before that startling burst of glissandi at bar 136, almost the dead-centre of this movement.

Disselhorst set the running for the work’s centre with a highly expressive account of the exposed solo from bar 6 to bar 34, first violin Florian Willeitner then taking over for the tinnitus-like portion of this night-music lento. What struck me here was the apparent freedom available to both players, pitching and weaving their lines with the assurance that their partners knew what they were up to and how they were working through their responsibilities before the meat of these pages emerged in bar 50’s poco allargando. As for the following all-pizzicato Allegro, we were treated to that rarity: exemplary dynamic gradations and contrasts, as in the abrupt forte arpeggiations of bar 63 preceding the triple-piano susurrus of bar 65 and the consequent catch-and-release processes in play up to bar 88’s Un poco piu mosso.

But there were so many other facets to this interpretation that deserve praise. The various pairings came over as razor-sharp in their clarity, rather than slightly sharp-discrepant, as witnessed by the outline of the final Allegretto‘s main theme (beginning at bar 15) by Willeitner and fellow violinist Daniel Stoll. Later, your spirits were elevated by the determination of Bartok’s frequent fierce canons, like that between the violins against Disselhorst and viola Sander Stuart beginning at bars 249/50, then 284/5. And I can’t recall being as struck at percussive simultaneity as in the col legno-punctuated stretch beginning at bar 329: a gripping uniformity of attack lasting till bar 340.

After interval, the Visions worked through the Dvorak work with just the same sweeping stamina, perfectly comfortable with the composer’s sonorous landscape of benevolent contentment. I watched this from the back of the Conservatorium hall which gave an opportunity to relish the group’s timbral warmth, particularly welcome during the Adagio second movement’s progress from that throbbing sul G/sul D initial strophe from Willeitner to the weltering grandioso C Major statement just before the key signature reversion back to E flat Major. In these hands, even that self-indulgently lengthy Allegro con fuoco finale maintained its grip as the group seemed to knot even tighter together while the episodes swept past, including that odd prefiguration of Harry Belafonte at the piu mosso 19 bars after Number 5 in the Eulenberg edition of (about) 1910.

You can argue that this group has numerous advantages not available to others. Three of them have been in the Vision configuration since 2012 – long enough to know each other’s musicianship and still tolerant enough to endure those personality quirks that have driven asunder other ensembles. Willeitner replaced Jakob Encke in 2021 but his slightly-less-than-two-years Vision experience clearly doesn’t tell against him. These musicians still have the heightened perceptions of youth on their side, all being in their very early 30s and I’d suggest at their prime level of physical reactiveness: they move remarkably quickly and with admirable discipline.

Best of all, as their Bartok reading shows, they have no fears of the difficult but show willing to master music that is still taxing after nearly a century since its publication. This readiness to enter fully into their work gives you hope for their future, although it’s probably expecting too much to expect that they will eventually be able to give a complete Bartok cycle from memory, for example. Despite that, I’m afraid that the Visions have spoiled us; from now on, I’ll be remembering their confidence and ensemble virtuosity when faced with any normal string quartet complete with music stands, no matter how essential these may be. Irrational, I know, but this group has set a remarkable precedent, regardless of what follows from them or anybody else.

Enthusiasm limited by naivete

TANGO FANTASY

Ken Herrera

Move Records MCD 649

The composer/pianist presents four of his works on this disc: two short isolated pieces, and a pair of collections, finishing with the five-movement, 33-minute-long Tango Fantasy. Herrera studied piano at the Tasmanian Conservatorium of Music, then moved into composition. He appears to be self-taught in this latter field and – unfortunately – it shows. You’re not getting many contemporary sounds here; Herrera is content to manipulate a harmonic vocabulary of rudimentary proportions and his professed devotion to the tango is not persuasive when it comes to putting that particular dance into his own language,

For instance, the opening Tango Waltz begins with some flourishes that might suggest a tango but, 30 seconds in, the piece has settled into a 3/4 rhythm. Following this straightforward move to waltz-time, Herrera doesn’t move out of it. Furthermore, the melodic content is rather wayward; sure, there are repetitions of his basic tune, punctuated by episodes that have little relation to anything but themselves. Apart from a well-pedalled scale eruption about two-thirds of the way through, there’s not much here to raise expectations of virtuosity; some flourishes are welcome but the 2018 piece is couched in a pre-Nino Rota/Fellini atmospheric without the original’s spartan melancholy.

Pairing up with this waltz is the album’s other brevity, Herrera’s Third Nocturne from 2012 which aims to suggest a Latin American night spot complete with its atmosphere-establishing piano in a blending of bossa nova and blues. Well, you get the first-mentioned’s rhythm, all right – it obtains throughout – but the blues consists of some predictable chords and not much besides. Our nocturne isn’t in the Field/Chopin line but more along the lines of something you might hear at a cocktail bar; sadly, not one where you’re tempted to tip the pianist. As with the waltz, the piece sounds aimless in its right hand which wanders at its own sweet will in a chain of 7th chords and tinklings.

Herrera’s first major construct is a Suite dating from 2013. The inspiration comes from Bach – a laudable aspiration, although the shape of the collection puts it closer to Grieg’s Holberg or even the Karelia of Sibelius although its four elements are given non-suggestive tempo titles: Allegro, Allegro, Andantino, Presto. The first is proposed as an introductory toccata but the only shadow of that form comes close to the end in a quasi-improvisatory passage that recalls some of the foibles of Sweelinck. For the most part, it proceeds like a fitful study with left-hand cross-overs for excitement, building to a loud highpoint rather early in proceedings but, like a Buxtehude toccata,. owning several sections.

At the end of this opening, you’re also left with several questions about the movement’s harmonic shape which tends to follow a predictable path, if sometimes an ungainly one because it veers off from its own patterns more than little self-consciously. We’re in much more solid Bach territory with the second Allegro which begins like one of the Inventions but lacks the rigour to follow a simple contrapuntal matrix, the left-hand settling into a bass role where you expected a mirroring of the initial statement. Progress is sometimes quirky, but not in an adventurous way – for instance, a sequential pattern is held up for a moment when a repetition is interpolated so that you’re left feeling unbalanced when the sequence is resumed. Later, when the left hand gets hold of the initial line, the treble provides a functional harmonic accompaniment rather than a complement. At about the 1’30” point, we enter a new world of repeated chords for a moment, returning almost instantly to the suggested/unrealized linear interplay of the opening.

Herrera sees this as a lively dance movement; to me, it’s more in the nature of a march in that I can’t see any potential choreography beyond a military stamp. When it comes to the obligatory slow movement, we are offered an Andantino that opens with a simple old-fashioned melody, followed by a series of episodes that numb with their predictability in terms of shape and modulations. Added to which, the composer reaches some points where inspiration is at a premium and we experience a good deal of repetition and note-spinning, e.g. at about the 3′ 50″ mark and at 5′ 00″. An abruptly determined conclusion sits at odds with the placid opening; it’s as though the writer has turned semi-aggressive and avoided a tempering of his mood.

When we reach the Presto, Herrera points to the gigue conclusions to Bach keyboard suites and proposes a further historical reach by wanting to summon up the Irish jig spirit as well. He opens bravely, with a flourish that hints at Litolff’s Concerto Symphonique No. 4 Scherzo before we reach a melody peppered with hemiolas. Before long, the jig has turned into a momentary waltz, then coming back to jig with some slight suggestions of a blues chord or two. A descent to the bass register moves us back into the land of the totally expectable, followed by a rise in alt – and we’re back to Litolff, albeit rather laboured. A chromatic rise brings us to a reprise of the opening material, and a soft-dynamic ending with preparatory booming bass and ornamental sextuplets on top.

This is the most effective of the suite’s movements, mainly because of its energy and occasional charm, yet it still leaves an impression of beating the bounds through interludes – to the point where the exercise sounds like a disjunct rondo.

But there’s more. Herrera’s final offering is the 2016 Tango Fantasy in five movements that begins with a solid AndanteAllegroAllegrettoPresto sequence. The opening is a sort of recitative, beginning with a single line that acquires another as well as some gruff bass burps before reaching for some chord chains that would have satisfied more if the composer had been more severely self-critical, giving coherence to his modulations and animating the piece by using his instrument’s outer reaches with some purpose.

The remaining three sections are all tangos, taken at various speeds, the fourth being something of a recapitulation of the second although the pace doesn’t justify the Presto label. I found it difficult to detect how the Allegretto was related to anything else, although it opened in a quasi-improvisatory manner that suggested the piece’s first pages/bars. But a great deal of territory is covered by the fantasy nomenclature, so – as with Chopin and Schumann – you just have to go with the prevailing flow. We now come to a Vals – Allegro vivo which follows a similar Rota-type insouciance as we heard in the opening Tango Waltz; the main tune opens deftly enough but fails to live up to its promise with a rather aimless consequent to its initial statement. Here the intention is clearly to spike up the piece’s orthodox harmonic scheme with some wrong-note interpolations. That might have come off if the overwhelming tenor of the movement was not so traditional at its many harmonic fulcrum points. Added to this, some of the movement’ phrases didn’t balance; and you’d be working hard to find much vivo in these pages.

Now attention turns to the Milonga, the tango’s precursor; this movement is also set up as a Presto, which it isn’t. Here is a harmonically orthodox dance with some traces of the habanera’s triplets and at least four passages of fortissimo writing that come straight from the Lisztian handbook of virtuosity if not as dynamically sustained or as digitally taxing as in the Hungarian master’s workplace. An Andantino opens questioningly but follows an inchoate path, taking its time before settling into a languorous tango, then seeming to doodle a melodic path leading in no particular direction. In fact, this whole movement struck me as aimless if centred on a minor tonality (G?) – as is so much of the music on this CD – before a concluding over-emphasized tierce de Picardie.

at the start of the concluding Presto, Herrera introduces a key motif of five consecutive semiquavers rattled out like automatic fire before moving into a Piazzolla-reminiscent melody that gives a format to this rondo-tango which comes equipped with a substantial coda. Again, I’d question the tempo direction which, to my ear, sounds in actuality more like a tempo di marcia. But the real problem comes not from the piece’s impetus, which is well-sustained, but from the diffuse nature of its harmonic ramblings which lead into some thorny thickets before moving back into diatonic safety.

Nothing wrong with being a tango tragic. Never forget that splendid man-of-letters Clive James and his installation of a special room in which he could practise this specific dance: that’s enthusiasm. But, for a composer, you have to add something original to a field that boasts the riches of Albeniz in D, Por una cabeza, La Cumparsita, Besame mucho, and even Libertango. This CD is the work of a talent that appears devoted to this specific form but his output needs more focus, not to mention more sophistication.

Three sonatas from a new/old voice

TREING TO REMEMBER WHAT I CHOSE TO FORGET

Trish Dean, Graeme Jennings, Alex Raineri

Move Records MCD 642

Yet another compositional voice that has passed me by, Millward is best known for his collaborations with film makers and stage artists, although chamber music is a respectable element in his catalogued output. His language runs to the jazz/popular/sonic art vocabularies and his performances seem to tend to pre-recorded. In fact, much of his work has been recorded on three CDs, including a piano works collection by Sally Mays. Matters are further complicated by several works being sub-sets or spin-offs from larger constructs; it’s an instance of cross-transference, something like trying to chart Sculthorpe’s string quartets.

Still, this recording is Millward’s first for Move Records and it features three exceptional musicians. Despite the suggestive titles – Trying to Remember What I Chose to Forget; Contact – Connect – Tracer; Sadness to Madness – all three of the works presented are good old-fashioned duo sonatas. Pianist Alex Raineri is the constant thread in all three works; violinist Graeme Jennings performs the 2019 violin sonata (Trying to Remember . . . ), then tries his viola hand at the second (Connect etc.), written in 2021; Ensemble Q’s Trish Dean manages the two-movement cello sonata which came to fruition last year.

To begin, I’m having trouble with the composer’s CD title which applies not just to the violin sonata but also to the other two works. In essence, Millward is facing us with sounds that he has in his memory as well as sounds that he has chosen to obliterate from his memory – which is a mental tour de force that you confront at your peril. What is being proposed is a scouring confrontation with the self where you easily take into account the positive facets of your personality/identity, at the same time as facing up to events or characteristics that cast you in a less-than-flattering light. Further, Millward proposes that this admission of the traits we decide to eliminate isn’t just a personal failure but a cultural one.

I don’t think any of us would have an argument with this last projection. You only have to look at any arguments against the Voice to encounter a world of unconscious admissions of cultural failure – obvious time-honoured maltreatment dismissed in favour of self-righteousness, led by a character who seizes on Farnham’s words, ‘try and understand it’ while missing the relevance, inherited from his former career, of the lines, ‘How long can we look at each other/Down the barrel of a gun?’ So Millward has concerns with an unassailable truth: we do choose to forget – what we find uncomfortable, unpleasant, unconscionable.

How this translates into his music remains a mystery that could only be solved by a psychological journey into his compositional practice, an analysis separating the wheat from the one-time tares. But then you’re faced with discerning what the composer wants to use as material, has always wanted to use, and presents – but alongside or in between other compositional matter that has been ignored quite consciously and can now be recalled! It’s an intriguing double-take but I fear many of us won’t rise to Millward’s expectations, content in our intellectual sloth to take his work as a composite – that is, if we aren’t being confronted by an entire creative swathe that involves the formerly-repressed rising to the surface intact: not alongside, but instead of the consciously accepted inspiration for the composer’s products.

The CD’s title work opens with Partial Reflection in which Raineri’s part dominates for its block chords while Jennings presents a Hindemith-like strong, if meandering line. The contrapuntal interplay between both instruments is occasionally intense in its tautness but then gives place to some lyrically soaring flights for the string player, especially towards the movement’s conclusion while Raineri proposes an atmospherically varied backdrop. A meditative break follows in Memoire Omissions where an unhappy nocturne finds cells repeated, extended, varied, shared with sudden patches of orthodox harmony penetrating the atonal texture that dominates proceedings. A sudden burst into action from both players heightens the outward tension before a return to the opening’s melancholy reserve and a few aggressive concluding bars.

Which take us through an attacca into the final Tangled Tango. About a minute of violin cadenza reminiscent of Tzigane precedes Raineri’s entry into the partnership before the work’s progress becomes a sort of tango, if one that you wouldn’t have much luck dancing. After a dynamic climax/collapse, the players move into a tranquil zone that eventually takes up the tango rhythm en clair about 2/3rds of the way through before becoming a rather strident exercise in opposing and complementary ejaculations. A return to the tango prefaces a menacing conclusion on a looped phrase that suddenly cuts itself short. For sure, the tango (which bears an odd similarity to a polonaise at certain spots) is a miscellany of sectionalized inventiveness; as with its predecessors, I find it hard to trace the elements or to appreciate what Millward is doing with them. Adding to the unsettling character of this work, Jennings sounds under-miked in the opening movement, a second-stringer to the piano’s aggression.

On to the slightly longer (9 seconds) viola sonata and we seem to have landed in more immediately digestible territory with Raineri outlining a steady quaver pattern rather like an Alberti bass, the viola giving us a lean, meandering melodic line. Both instruments work into an angular duet that follows a steady pulse and into a well-integrated partnership. A change of mood actually means a change of output and emotional prospects with some savage double-stopping for the viola and a willful piano percussive exhibition. The closely-argued relationship of the first section is here a more frantic creature: the quaver pattern persists but much more explosively and fiercely. There is no relief: the pressure is maintained and the movement ends abruptly.

So why call it Contact? Possibly because of the duelling brought into play, both instruments intertwining but also exploding against each other’s activity. Further, the juxtaposition of moderate and rapid tempi exposes a dual arena of sorts in which the tactile scenario is pursued consistently, if under two different guises. It’s a more placid scene in the following Connect, the amiable soundscape a throwback to English impressionism. Where the viola weaves another generously lyrical line, the keyboard ranges across its compass in support as well as shifting backgrounds. The whole piece reminds me of Cyril Scott’s Lotus Land – which is probably being a bit unfair to both writers. But they share a kind of directed languor, relieved by an occasional spurt of temperament.

As for the concluding Tracer pages, I can only conclude that this refers to one instrument following the other’s path. From the opening, Raineri sets the pace while Jennings punctuates with decorative interpolations that distract from the somewhat steady keyboard progress. Then the roles are reversed and the movement soldiers on, like a hard-worked sample of kammermusik. Eventually, the moto perpetuo aspect dies off for a terse viola cadenza, before we return to the same patterns as the opening and the sonata ends on a question mark, like Petrushka.

Mind you, I could have this all wrong and Millward could be following a quasi-military inspiration; the contact-connect-tracer sequence might have something to do with warfare. But I doubt it; whatever the tracer suggestion, I don’t think it refers to bullets. Without a score, it’s impossible to discern the parallel contours (if there are any) of both instrumental lines and, while there is plenty of mimesis, it’s hard to see a continuous layering of timbres and melodies. Still, the performance is assured and clean, Jennings’ pitch invariably true and Raineri giving his part a welcome clarity, especially in the outer movements.

The cello sonata’s two movements are called, rather obviously, Sad and Mad. In the first, both performers seem to be goading each other into depression, Dean’s cello leading the way into an emphatically dour emotional landscape. Indeed, it’s a rare moment when the string voice isn’t clearly in the ascendant. A brief outburst of staccato high notes for Raineri is one of the few points of piano exposure, even if the instrument’s timbre is used deftly at either end of this movement to reinforce the cello’s low moans.

Another attacca launches us into new territory, the piano rumbling in its lowest register against a striving cello circling on itself. And suddenly we emerge into the relative light of a partnership that follows a coherent path for a few measures, only to lapse into a downward cello solo. The music takes a turn for the manic, the piano producing a chain of hand-muffled notes; followed eventually by eruptions, a high tinkling/near-harmonic that suggests mental disarrangement, if not an absence of mental control. But this is followed by a quietly balanced cello lyric, sensitively carried forward by piano chords, before the final ascent to a high sustained note that wavers (intentionally, you’d hope) into something like those woodwind multiphonics that were so popular in the 1960s.

Is this all intended to depict a crazed state with occasional facets of crisis and release? I suppose so and it’s effective in its chameleonic shifts from one phase to another and back. Certainly, it’s a fine demonstration of performance involvement from both executants who appear to be comfortable with Millward’s language and technical demands. The cello and violin sonatas share common ground, in particular a mobile dissonance that impresses for its clear sense of purpose, as opposed to the relative sweetness of the work for viola and piano. Nevertheless, the composer’s triple offering here is challenging and he is content to offer a fairly abstract set of observations to explain his field of operations; hence the diffidence of the observations above . Not a new voice, then, given the composer’s substantial academic and professional career, but one well worth knowing.

Diary October 2023

A QUEER ROMANCE

Michael Honeyman and Sally Whitwell

Opera Queensland Studio, 149 Grey St. South Bank

Friday October 6 at 7 pm

As for picking lyrical products for this song recital, I don’t think baritone Honeyman and his accompanist will have much success – that’s if the adjective ‘queer’ relates to sexuality and isn’t just used as a general term for off-centre or outre. You could go for the Michelangelo Sonnets of Britten – no: they’re written for tenor. What about Poulenc’s songs for Bernac? Fine, but you look for sub-texts in vain across the work of this repressed writer. You might have better luck with Ravel’s L’indifferent or Debussy’s Chansons de Bilitis although both are heard more often/successfully from female singers. But an actual romance along LGBTQI lines expressed in unambiguous music is pretty hard to come across; lots of hints and possibilities, very little that’s explicit . . . or maybe I haven’t heard of it yet. As for Honeyman, my experience has been limited to his Opera Australia appearances, best exemplified in a towering King Roger that threw the rest of that particular Melbourne season (2017?) into the shade. Whitwell I know nothing about, but she’s a Sydney musician and that city’s musical life hasn’t impinged on my consciousness for over 60 years. The recital is sponsored by Opera Queensland. Tickets range between $77 and $85; I don’t think there’s any credit-card gouging.

This program will be repeated on Saturday October 7 at 2 pm.

NOCTURNE

Orava Quartet

The Edge Auditorium, State Library of Queensland

Saturday October 7 at 7 pm

The city’s favourite ensemble of this shape is offering a delectable 90-minute program in a string quartet-favouring location, with a close acoustic from memory. The players – violins Daniel Kowalik and David Dalseno, viola Thomas Chawner, cello Karol Kowalik – open with Borodin No. 2 which features a slow-movement Notturno familiar to all lovers of the musical Kismet, not forgetting the Scherzo which, with its second theme, gave us Baubles, Bangles and Beads. But it’s a satisfying work in its own right, making me wonder yet again: why don’t we ever hear its predecessor based on a theme from a late Beethoven quartet? Then come the Five Pieces by Erwin Schulhoff of 1923 which show a facility that this composer possessed when pushing beyond Les Six. Finally, the Oravas offer us Sculthorpe’s String Quartet No. 9. Commissioned in 1975 by Musica Viva Australia, it’s a work I’ve not heard for many years. But you could say the same about most of the Australian writer’s output in this form, all of it very approachable. This occasion also marks the launch of the ensemble’s second album, for which no details are available. Tickets range from $25 to $69, organized through Eventbrite who will probably charge you for their services, limited as they are.

THE DINNER PARTY

Ensemble Q

Concert Hall, Queensland Performing Arts Centre

Sunday October 8 at 3 pm

The Ensemble is celebrating a famous dinner on the night of Strauss’s Salome premiere in Graz. Those present included Schonberg, his students Berg and Webern, his brother-in-law Zemlinsky, his idol Mahler, as well as Strauss himself and Puccini (in town for the spectacle). By some clever programmatic variety, we will hear Schonberg’s Six Little Piano Pieces of 1913, Berg’s Four Pieces for Clarinet and Piano from the same year, and Webern’s Three Little Pieces for Cello and Piano from the following year. Puccini is represented by his string quartet lament Crisantemi, composed way back in 1890 between Edgar and Manon Lescaut. Zemlinsky produced his 4-minute Humoreske for wind quintet in 1939 after escaping the Nazis. A neat confederation comes in Schoenberg’s 1920 arrangement of Mahler’s 1885 Songs of a Wayfarer for flute, clarinet, string quartet plus double bass, piano, harmonium, triangle and glockenspiel. Then, the night’s second half is all-Strauss: the Piano Quartet Op. 13, contemporaneous with Mahler’s song-cycle; and Till Eulenspiegel – einmal anders! in which the Austrian academic Franz Hasenohrl in 1954 reappraised the 1895 tone poem by reducing its content by about half and cut the orchestral forces to a violin-double bass-clarinet-bassoon-horn quintet. Don’t know who’s participating in any of the above except for baritone Shaun Brown who sings Mahler/Schoenberg’s four lieder. It’s at QPAC, so the tickets range from $55 concession to $75 full, with the gross impost of $7.20 as a penalty for giving up your Sunday afternoon.

EUROPEAN MASTERS

Academy of St. Martin in the FieldsAcademy of St Martin in the Fields Academy of St Martin in the Fields with Joshua Bell

Concert Hall, Queensland Performing Arts Centre

Wednesday October 11 at 7 pm

This famous British ensemble has allied with super-duper American violinist Bell, currently the Academy’s music director, for a tour that involves three nights in Melbourne’s Recital Centre (audience limited to 1,000), three nights in Sydney’s Opera House (God knows how many it holds after the latest re-configuration) and two nights in Brisbane; blessed be the east coast. I’ve heard them once at home and once in Melbourne; no question but that this group is top-notch with a burnished output that has been delighting us for 65+ years. The European writers that they’re presenting begin with Prokofiev’s Symphony No. 1, yclept Classical because it offers a modern-day (1916-17) Haydn flavour. It’s fine as long as it isn’t turned into a rapid-fire onslaught in the outer movements. I believe Bell will be front man for Bach’s A minor Violin Concerto BWV 1041; you see, this night’s work is emphatically popular and such a warhorse should go down a treat. The director will also probably take prime position for Saint-Saens’ Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso, in which I can already hear the sparks flying in the concluding Piu allegro. To end, Mendelssohn’s Scottish Symphony – his last in the form (probably because it took him so long to finish) and notable for its absence of breaths between movements and the snappy Scots references in the scherzo and finale. Tickets range from $89 to $199 (no concessions); well, they all need recompense for coming so far, don’t they? While splurging on this, never forget QPAC’s extra impost of $7.20 on any order.

CLASSIC GRANDEUR

Academy of St. Martin in the Fields with Joshua Bell

Concert Hall, Queensland Performing Arts Centre

Thursday October 12 at 7 pm

Following its array of popular favourites from last night, the Academy and its music director go straight for that old-time religion with a program that could have come from the 1930s. We are beginning with Mozart’s Overture to The Marriage of Figaro and it’s almost a certainty that Bell and his forces will spring no surprises with this brief burst of brilliance but will mount a crisp presentation; mind you, what else can you do? Bell steps forward for the Beethoven Violin Concerto which will be punctuated by the soloist’s own cadenzas; fair enough, as the composer didn’t supply any himself and who needs Kreisler’s any more? I can remember Nigel Kennedy playing them with timpani support on one of his visits here – probably taken from Beethoven’s own arrangement of the work for piano and orchestra. In any case, Bell’s cadenzas have been around for a while without causing controversy. And we return to Mozart for the Symphony No. 40 in G minor: the most popular of the set and a challenging task for any group of players faced with its inspired bravery and emotional conviction. Tickets cost the same as at last night’s event – $89 to $199, with the same booking-fee exaction of $7.20. Perhaps it’s worth the expense to see these fine flowers from Britain’s musical garden on display.

HEARTLAND CLASSICS

Queensland Symphony Orchestra

Concert Hall Queensland Performing Arts Centre

Friday October 13 7:30 pm

The orchestra’s one city concert for this month does come from the centre of Europe, beginning with the Hungarian frolic of Kodaly’s Dances of Galanta from 1933, oozing national colour and verbunkos format. It’s a friendly suite with some flattering orchestral work, particularly for clarinet which will give Irit Silver plenty of scope to exercise her skills. An Armenian guest then comes forward: violinist Sergey Khachatryan. This youngish (38) musician will take the solo line for Mendelssohn in E minor, which is about as close to music’s early Romantic heartland as you can get and the acme of the composer’s achievement in the concerto format. After this German effusion, we’ll hear Dvorak’s Symphony No. 7 in D minor from 1885 which certain commentators put at the forefront of the Czech composer’s output, despite the prevalence of the New World on every major orchestra’s annual schedule as the years roll on. I’ve a sneaking affection for this score as I first encountered it at the Melbourne Conservatorium where Noel Nickson conducted it in the early 1960s while I sat at the back of the violins and heard student tentativeness in full cry for the first (but not the last) time. Anyway, the conductor here is Otto Tausk from the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra. Tickets full-price fall between $90 and $130, but concessions are available; still, you can’t avoid that swingeing booking fee, no matter where you sit or what price reduction you manage to acquire.

This program will be repeated on Saturday October 14 at 1:30 pm

FLORESCENCE

Australian String Quartet

Ithaca Auditorium, Brisbane City Hall

Thursday October 19 at 7 pm

Here’s a fairly well-travelled group. Not that Brisbane is a constant on its touring schedule these days but, unlike quite a few other string quartets on the national scene, the ASQ doesn’t neglect us entirely. The ensemble – violins Dale Barltrop and Francesca Hiew, viola Christopher Cartlidge, cello Michael Dahlenberg – has survived the Great Interruption and comprises the same personnel format as when I heard the group some years ago. As for what they’re playing in this well-polished, atmospherically cold space, it starts with a Movement for String Quartet, written in 2020 by Justin Williams, associate principal viola with the Sydney Symphony Orchestra and a founding member of the Tinalley Quartet (although that ensemble hasn’t been heard of for some time now). This brevity (the composer’s first creative gambit) is followed by Haydn in B minor, first of the six in the Op. 33 set and the only one of them not in a major key (although the composer has his little ambisexual harmonic jest at the start). I assume there’s an interval break (after about 36 minutes’ playing) before we jump back to Purcell’s Fantasia No 6 in F which is a substantial work, considering most of its companions. To end, we have Dvorak No. 14 in A flat, the last of the composer’s output in this form and nowhere nearly as well-known (or performed) as No 12, the American (once called the Nigger, especially in slavery-enriched England). That’s a very original program with nothing familiar about it – and so to be highly commended. Tickets? $33 to $78 with no apparent extra charge: another cause for commendation.

THE NEW WORLD

Southern Cross Soloists

Concert Hall, Queensland Performing Arts Centre

Sunday October 22 at 3 pm

The Soloists are going all-American in this all-things-to-all-men compendium which begins with Caroline Shaw’s Entr’acte, last heard here from the Australian Chamber Orchestra on August 7; this time, in its string quartet format. Then we are treated to a bit of ersatz Americana in the Largo from Dvorak’s New World Symphony, Goin’ Home; presumably being sung to words provided by the composer’s American pupil, William Arm Fisher . . . otherwise, why not just stick with the piece’s original title? Then comes Artie Shaw’s Clarinet Concerto of 1940 which makes hay with the composer’s big band sunshine. The ensemble hits the inspirational if imaginary national vein with Three Scenes from Aaron Copland’s Rodeo ballet – which is odd as the usual collation features four of the work’s original five scenes. Konstantin Shamray will play his reading of Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue; presumably as a piano solo, but you can’t tell with the Soloists. The final essay is a Piazzolla (well, he lived in the USA for 10 or 11 years): Fuga y misterio which comes from the composer’s opera Maria de Buenos Aires. It’s a frustrated tango, or so it seems to me, despite its formal qualities that sound as natural as the instrumental section to Bernstein’s Cool. In the program’s centre is an as-yet unnamed new work/collaboration between guitarist John Jorgenson (of Elton John band fame) and Chris Williams, the Soloists’ Didgeridoo Soloist in Residence. You’d suppose that the work will feature both composers as executants but – apart from Shamray – other participants on the night remain anonymous. Tickets are from $35 (student) to $85; it’s QPAC-sponsored, so have your extra $7.20 ready.

SONGBIRDS

Ensemble Offspring

Brisbane City Hall

Saturday October 28 at 7:30 pm

Is this group in a state of constant expansion or contraction? Last time I looked, it appeared to be a mixed trio; from its website, you’d think it was a sextet. For this particular program, three sound-sources are nominated: flute, clarinet and percussion. This last is certainly the ensemble’s founder/artistic director Claire Edwardes whose name is well-established among adherents of Australia’s contemporary music activity. The flautist will be Lamorna Nightingale, the clarinets negotiated by Jason Noble; these musicians have participated in Offspring recitals earlier this year. Three composers are singled out for mention on one particular informational platform: Gerard Brophy, Fiona Loader, and Nardi Simpson All three will be represented by some ‘beloved’ works. We know that they’ll be Australian birds – Brophy’s 2019 Beautiful birds, Loader’s Lorikeet Corroboree of 2015, perhaps Simpson’s Of Stars and Birds (which you can see the Offspringers play on YouTube). And then we move away from the avian and more to the environment with two Hollis Taylor/Jon Rose collaborations in N’Dhala Gorge @ Ross River and Bitter Springs Creek 2014, alongside Brenda Gifford‘s Mungala (Clouds), Ella MacensFalling Embers, Alice HumphriesThe Visitor (Sorry, I can’t stay), and Bridget Bourne‘s Wood Grooves – all written between 2018 and 2022. Tickets aren’t yet on sale.

KINGS AND CASTLES

South East Queensland Symphonic Winds

Old Museum, Bowen Hills

Sunday October 29 at 2:30 pm

A few unusual features about this event, which is the only one in October’s calendar for the Old Museum that appeals. First, it’s a dress-up event: you come attired as a king (or queen) and you could win a prize – an initiative that would spark up many a more grave event at QPAC. Second, the program is remarkably broad – and vague. The 60-piece ensemble (that’s a massive lot of winds) under Adam Pittard is promising a feast of music from around the globe – royalty of all types and times. We will hear musical insurrections (Khovanshchina? Va, pensiero?) and Holy Grail quests (Parsifal? or more likely Indiana Jones?). Geographical locations move between Ancient Persia – we could all do with a dash of Ketelbey, or a few selections from Kismet – and the Kingdom of Siam, which for many of us is forever associated with Rodgers and Hammerstein’s The King and I. The Winds choose their repertoire from light classical, Broadway musicals, movie themes and original compositions; some of my suggestions above might obtain, although perhaps not the Wagner and Mussorgsky operas. Tickets fall between $19 and $24, a dollar extra if you buy at the door. And there’s a 2% credit card fee – a matter of cents, I suppose, but necessary?