Contrast is the name of the game at this Festival, and Friday's two concerts provided a particularly notable example. Here was a day that ranged from outright laughter to the most moving solemnity and the grandest rejoicing.
In the afternoon, a mixed group of four quite different works. First up was a work for chamber ensemble with guitar composed (and led in performance) by Graham Campbell, called Devil's Avocado. Campbell stated that the title arose from an auto-correct-gone-wrong in a text message, which I can certainly relate to! What exactly this intriguing title had to do with the music wasn't apparent, but it was an interesting piece with enough quirky little twists and turns, and enough spice of unusual harmonies, to make me want to hear it again!
Pianist Glen Montgomery has appeared at the Festival many times. I always think of him as the versatile musician par excellence because he can, and apparently will, play anything and everything you ask of him. But now for something completely different. After playing in Graham Campbell's work, he stepped forward in a new role, as composer, to introduce the world premiere of a suite for chamber ensemble, Masques of Canada.
Montgomery's music was a mixture of different styles, as suited by the different musical portraits he was trying to paint in sound. His music was both intriguing and enjoyable, and two movements in particular -- Skating With Mahovlich and Orr and Montreal Jazz -- brought a definite smile to my face with the infusion of wit into the mixture. It's just a pity that, due to time constraints, we were only given five of the eight movements. I certainly hope to hear the work again, and hear it complete as it deserves.
The third work was a suite for solo marimba entitled The Spirit and the Dust, but Canadian composer Dinuk Wijeratne. Percussionist Beverley Johnston, introducing the performance, made me chuckle when she referred to the scarcity of works written for solo marimba. There were three people in the hall, myself and Jim and Carol Campbell, who heard a great deal of marimba music in February since that was a focus instrument of this year's Adam Chamber Music Festival in New Zealand which we all attended (and, in Jim's case, performed at).
I had some pretty strong negative reactions to some of the music presented there, and my feelings were reinforced by Wijeratne's beautiful work. I think he has more composition in his little finger than several other composers have in their entire bodies, and I sat through enough music by those "others" in February to be able to tell the difference. Johnston's choices of which hammers to use in which movements intrigued me, as she selected a firmer mallet with a sharper sound for the final movement, a piece which I might otherwise have thought needed a softer-edged quality. Just one of the many subtleties you encounter in what many people wrongly see as the very un-subtle percussion department.
The afternoon concert concluded with another work by Richard Mascall, Singing Beaver on Water (we heard some of his music in the opening concert of the entire Festival). This was the tale of Nanabush and the Giant Beaver, a traditional Ojibway tale. A tale of course needs a tale-teller, and that was John Rice, a well-respected teacher and elder of the Anishinabe Nation. His retelling of the story was very clear at all times, with plenty of expression and a wry sense of humour that totally suited the tale. Mascall's music accompanied some parts of the story, and was interspersed with other parts as interludes. Some sections were simple lyrical melodies to evoke mood, while others were more dramatic music intended to illustrate the events.
Any piece that combines music with speaking is apt to be a bit iffy for balance, but every word and every note remained clearly audible, and the audience was both involved and entertained by the tale as Rice unfolded it for us. It's just a pity that the original billing of "Painted Sound" wasn't followed through. (The Festival uses this title for concerts which combine projections of artworks on the screen with musical performance.)
In the evening, it was time for the annual visit of the Elmer Iseler Singers, always a highlight for me and certainly for many others -- as attested by the near sell-out audience. The concert was entitled Hallelujah!, and incorporated several different settings although one of my favourites -- the austerely beautiful Randall Thompson a cappella motet -- was replaced. The choir was accompanied throughout by the Festival Ensemble, or on piano by Guy Few.
Normally the choir is led by its music director, Dr. Lydia Adams, but she was unable to travel. Long-time accompanist Shawn Grenke, himself an experienced choral conductor, led the ensemble throughout the evening with certainty and clarity as great as if he had taken them through the entire rehearsal process.
The final chorus of Christ on the Mount of Olives by Beethoven led off the hallelujahs of the second half in resounding style, although I'm sorry to have to say it's an impostor. Search as you will, you won't find any of the variant spellings of "hallelujah" in the original German text. It's a choice of the writer of the English text, and it does fit naturally to the rhythm of the notes. The English version otherwise adheres closely to the meaning of the German original.
There was a lovely extended motet movement by Bach, with piano and cello (Guy Few and Roman Borys) providing continuo accompaniment, and a more recent Hallelujah by Eric Whitacre.
In the evening, it was time for the annual visit of the Elmer Iseler Singers, always a highlight for me and certainly for many others -- as attested by the near sell-out audience. The concert was entitled Hallelujah!, and incorporated several different settings although one of my favourites -- the austerely beautiful Randall Thompson a cappella motet -- was replaced. The choir was accompanied throughout by the Festival Ensemble, or on piano by Guy Few.
Normally the choir is led by its music director, Dr. Lydia Adams, but she was unable to travel. Long-time accompanist Shawn Grenke, himself an experienced choral conductor, led the ensemble throughout the evening with certainty and clarity as great as if he had taken them through the entire rehearsal process.
The final chorus of Christ on the Mount of Olives by Beethoven led off the hallelujahs of the second half in resounding style, although I'm sorry to have to say it's an impostor. Search as you will, you won't find any of the variant spellings of "hallelujah" in the original German text. It's a choice of the writer of the English text, and it does fit naturally to the rhythm of the notes. The English version otherwise adheres closely to the meaning of the German original.
There was a lovely extended motet movement by Bach, with piano and cello (Guy Few and Roman Borys) providing continuo accompaniment, and a more recent Hallelujah by Eric Whitacre.
After a short work by Parry Sound composer Eleanor Daley, whose title I did not catch, we then got a choral version of the famed song Hallelujah by the late Canadian iconic musician and poet, Leonard Cohen. A beautifully-arranged accompaniment for the ensemble by Graham Campbell set the seal on this piece. Somehow, though, I keep wondering what Cohen would think of the process of deification that's overtaken his song since his passing last year.
The program wound up with Handel (who else?) and here the audience were encouraged to sing right along. Many did. It's a good way to find out where the experienced choristers are hiding out in the crowd (that would include me). It was great fun, and put a rousing finale to the concert!
But for me, the highlight came in the first half with an extended new work by Canadian composer David Braid, entitled Corona Divinae Misericordiae. It's an extended setting of a prayer cycle created in Poland the year before the outbreak of World War Two. The actual prayers involved, of course, are for the most part far older. The work is constructed in five main movements, linked together by four instrumental cadenzas. These were played by (in order) clarinetist James Campbell, violinist Annalee Patipatanakoon, and bassoonist James McKay. The fourth cadenza, for percussion, was led by percussionist Beverley Johnston but involved all the performers, with multiple bells, drums, and the like, while the remainder clapped their hands.
That last cadenza was the most overt way Braid found to underline his incorporation of music from many different spiritual traditions and times into his work. He used elements of the western tradition from plainsong chant to elaborate polyphony and more contemporary harmony, elements of Indian music, jazz, and (with the percussion) reaching backwards to the very beginnings of both music and worship.
The astonishing result nonetheless demonstrates a very clear and individual style by the composer, one that I certainly hope he will continue to develop and extend over time. If nothing else, David Braid certainly has the gift of writing, with understanding and love, for the human voice.
Each of the five choral sections was led off by an extended solo for mezzo-soprano, here sung by Andrea Ludwig. It was a kind of paradox that the solo voice, which might become the most immediate and personal element of the work, instead seemed to me the most remote, timeless, and filled with mystery. Not that the choir's singing lacked any of those qualities -- most certainly not! Some choral sections were marked by shorter solos from baritone Graham Robinson.
This entire complex plan cohered magnificently together, with the whole definitely exceeding the sum of its parts. It's a work which I very much hope to hear performed again, and soon!
The program wound up with Handel (who else?) and here the audience were encouraged to sing right along. Many did. It's a good way to find out where the experienced choristers are hiding out in the crowd (that would include me). It was great fun, and put a rousing finale to the concert!
But for me, the highlight came in the first half with an extended new work by Canadian composer David Braid, entitled Corona Divinae Misericordiae. It's an extended setting of a prayer cycle created in Poland the year before the outbreak of World War Two. The actual prayers involved, of course, are for the most part far older. The work is constructed in five main movements, linked together by four instrumental cadenzas. These were played by (in order) clarinetist James Campbell, violinist Annalee Patipatanakoon, and bassoonist James McKay. The fourth cadenza, for percussion, was led by percussionist Beverley Johnston but involved all the performers, with multiple bells, drums, and the like, while the remainder clapped their hands.
That last cadenza was the most overt way Braid found to underline his incorporation of music from many different spiritual traditions and times into his work. He used elements of the western tradition from plainsong chant to elaborate polyphony and more contemporary harmony, elements of Indian music, jazz, and (with the percussion) reaching backwards to the very beginnings of both music and worship.
The astonishing result nonetheless demonstrates a very clear and individual style by the composer, one that I certainly hope he will continue to develop and extend over time. If nothing else, David Braid certainly has the gift of writing, with understanding and love, for the human voice.
Each of the five choral sections was led off by an extended solo for mezzo-soprano, here sung by Andrea Ludwig. It was a kind of paradox that the solo voice, which might become the most immediate and personal element of the work, instead seemed to me the most remote, timeless, and filled with mystery. Not that the choir's singing lacked any of those qualities -- most certainly not! Some choral sections were marked by shorter solos from baritone Graham Robinson.
This entire complex plan cohered magnificently together, with the whole definitely exceeding the sum of its parts. It's a work which I very much hope to hear performed again, and soon!
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