Festival of the Sound 2018 # 10: Bach to the Basics

We're now into the full flow of the Festival, with the standard weekday schedule of 3 daily concerts:

[1]  Concert at 1:30 pm, 60-75 minutes.

[2]  Concert at 3:30 pm, 60-75 minutes.

[3]  Concert at 7:30 pm, 120-150 minutes with intermission.

Festival Artistic Director Jim Campbell has had another one of his programming inspirations, taking advantage of the presence this week of 3 cellists, to have each of the # 1 & 2 concerts on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday begin with one of the six Suites for Solo Cello by Johann Sebastian Bach.

So, on Wednesday we had # 1 in G Major played by Cameron Crozman, and # 2 in D Minor played by Rolf Gjelsten.  Thursday we heard # 3 in C Major played by Rolf Gjelsten, and # 4 in E-flat Major played by Rachel Mercer.  Then on Friday, the cycle wrapped up with # 5 in C Minor played by Rachel Mercer, and # 6 in D Major played by Cameron Crozman.

For many years, these pieces were regarded exclusively as study material for practice and technical perfection, not as public performance music.  However, once Pablo Casals completed his premiere recorded cycle in 1939, the suites became more and more a part of the performance repertoire, and now are among the best-known and best-loved of Bach's instrumental works.  They've also been transcribed by various composers and arrangers for a bewildering variety of other instruments -- to say nothing of the ongoing "authentic" arguments about which particular instrument was actually meant to be used for playing which suites.

One thing is certain: there is almost no limit to the possible interpretive directions performers could potentially take with these eternally fresh masterworks.  So here's the special fascination of this week's programming: the chance to hear three very different cellists, at three very different ages in their careers, each giving their own take on two of these suites.

All three, of course, played with great insight and character, and none of their interpretations were excessively wayward or eccentric.  Personal choice, then, would depend very much on a listener's reaction to the particular styles of playing.  I enjoyed all three of these interpreters, each for his/her own particular qualities.

Of the three, I felt that Cameron Crozman was the most precise and clear in playing all of the notes, especially when crossing the strings and double-stopping.  Rolf Gjelsten brought the largest degree of energy and passion, with some of the most forceful moments in his fast movements.  Rachel Mercer played with a wider dynamic range and more use of rubato, in a style that recalled memories of the more "romantic" Bach playing of my younger days without actually going clear back to that approach.

This division of the suites across three performers gave us a particularly fascinating journey through Bach's remarkable music.

The works that were partnered with the six suites also presented an intriguing cross-section of the chamber music repertoire: a Mozart piano quartet, Debussy's string quartet and cello sonata, Dvorak's wonderful string sextet, Schubert's Arpeggione Sonata in an arrangement for clarinet and string quartet, Schumann's fantasy in C major for piano, and the first piano quartet by Brahms.  Speaking of which....

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The Dvorak String Sextet, Op. 48, was a new find for me, and I instantly fell in love with it.  Mind you, I've always found Dvorak to be an easy composer to love.  I look forward to acquiring a good recording of this work, and getting to know it much better.

The final concert of these six, with the Piano Quartet in G Minor, Op. 25, by Brahms, brought a performance of this evergreen standard like none I have heard before.

This work, by the way, was my gateway to chamber music.  Starting with a broadcast of the Arnold Schoenberg orchestral arrangement, I worked through to the original Brahms text, and then branched out from there to listen to other Brahms chamber works with piano.  Then the Festival of the Sound popped above my mental horizon and, as the saying goes, the rest is history.

Every time I have heard this quartet played live, whether in Parry Sound, or Toronto, or on a video, it's always been a "pickup" ensemble.  I'm using that term to denote a group of players who do not habitually or regularly play music together.  Sometimes, these pickup performances can be among the most exciting at the Festival.

But this was a peculiar case, since the Ensemble Made in Canada is in fact a piano quartet.  This meant that their interpretation took on uncommon unity of direction.  More important than anything else, the balance was exemplary, and the three string parts were always audible through the heaviest piano writing.

That's a huge bonus, since the piano parts in these earlier Brahms chamber works are heavily, densely written to the point that drowning out the string colleagues is the # 1 peril for the pianist.

So it was a real pleasure for once to hear all the inner voicings in the viola and cello parts, and all the little counterpoints from the violin.  Pianist Angela Park absolutely hit the sweet spot, where she was loud enough for the necessary impact but not enough to overwhelm the others.  For my money, that's a very tiny target point that most pianists end up missing at one time or another in the work.  But then, her three string colleagues played with great fervour and power -- the other half of the equation.

I would especially commend the Ensemble Made in Canada for the finale -- the famous Rondo alla zingarese or "gypsy rondo."  For once, the movement launched out at a tempo that was not overly fast.  It doesn't need to be; the music is quite exciting enough as it stands.  The payoff here came in the final coda where the performers had ample room to really rev up the engines in the exultant dash to the finish line.  At this point, again, the unanimity of the playing was striking.

Festival of the Sound 2018 # 9: Chopin With a Difference and Schumann With Impact

As Week One of the Festival has shifted into high gear, I find I've had to abandon my traditional one-post-per-day approach in favour of a more thematic take on the performances.

One of the highlights of this week -- and of the entire Festival, for me at least -- is a pair of evening concerts featuring the two famous Piano Concertos of Chopin, in a chamber music arrangement for piano and string quartet.

With almost any other composer, giving this kind of treatment to a concerto for piano and full orchestra would seem merely eccentric.  But there are three good reasons why Chopin's concertos deserve to be heard in this form:

[1]  The title pages of the first published editions authorize it by specifying "piano and orchestra or piano and strings."

[2]  Journals and letters verify that Chopin himself performed both works in a chamber format as well as his performances with orchestra.

[3]  The orchestration of the works is, for many people including myself, workmanlike rather than inspired, often thick and turgid, and may not even be Chopin's work at all but the work of his fellow composition students (although argument about that last point still rages among the Great Experts).

Now that I've heard two different artists perform the works live in chamber format, and heard two different recordings of two different chamber-ensemble arrangements, I come down firmly in favour of this stripped-down format for these two works.  I find that thinning the ensemble out to this size permits some of Chopin's truly lovely counter-melodies to come shining through in a way that the full orchestra version does not allow, and generally clarifies the orchestral parts immensely in their interaction with the piano when both are playing at once.

So, to this week's performances, featuring rising piano star Charles Richard-Hamelin together with different string groups in the two concerts.  

Richard-Hamelin shot to fame when he won recognition at the International Chopin Piano Competition in Warsaw, and his Chopin playing is indeed of a very special calibre, as I've heard on previous occasions.  He's preparing to record these two works with L'orchestre symphonique de Montreal, and on the strength of his performances this week I certainly plan to acquire that recording when it is released.

But therein lies the problem -- small but important.  Richard-Hamelin gave a stunning rendition of the solo parts, full of equal parts power and fantasy, and with immaculate touch and pedalling.  But he played as if he were performing with a full orchestra, and the members of the string quartet in Concerto # 1 had their work cut out for them just trying to remain audible in some of the bigger passages.  I think the problem really comes down to the immense growth and evolution in power of the piano since Chopin's day.  In Concerto # 2 a second cello part was used, often playing an octave lower, and this helped matters somewhat.

On a future occasion, I'd suggest using a string septet -- double the viola and cello and add a double bass, since the ensemble's sound, with only the cello as a bass line, lacked a firm foundation to match the piano's deeper bass tones.  With that larger body of players, I think balance would be improved while still allowing the clarity that this chamber approach makes possible.

And there were so many beauties in the playing of both works.  Especially lovely were the several counter-melodies assigned by the arranger of Concerto # 1 to the viola, an instrument that rarely gets its due in much of the chamber repertoire.  The dramatic first movement of Concerto # 1 sizzled with energy, while the slow movement was a gentle, lyrical delight from all the players.  In Concerto # 2 (actually the first written, but the second to be published), my favourite moments came in the slow movement, in which the cadenza passages for piano were played with the lightest touch you could ask for.  Then, the finale waltzed gracefully away to bring the work to a most satisfying end.  And let's not forget the viola's other moment of glory, substituting for the horn signal just before the final reiteration of the theme leading into the coda.

Even with the balance issue noted above, an absolutely delightful pair of performances!

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On Friday afternoon, Charles Richard-Hamelin presented a pendant to the concerto performances, in the form of a stunning rendition of Schumann's Fantaisie in C Major, Op. 17.  This 3-movement work, lasting for half an hour in performance, began life as a planned piano sonata but evolved into a much freer form.  In the process, it became both complex and virtuosic beyond the limits of all but a tiny handful of Chopin's works.

I've always found the first movement to be frankly unconvincing.  It comes across to me as a potpourri of unrelated themes and thematic fragments, played all the way through, and then played all the way through again with slight variations in register and key.  Almost like a collection of unused chips from the master's workbench.

The second and third movements, though, are a different story.  The powerful and energetic march which dominates the second movement, the fiendish high-speed coda, and then the almost hymn-like slow finale, all speak of structure carefully planned and as carefully worked out.

Having said that, I must admit that Richard-Hamelin came very close to making me forget about that wayward first movement's structural deficiencies.  His playing in the other two movements was simply beyond praise.

Festival of the Sound 2018 # 8: Youthful Hands Across the Water

For the first time in quite a few summers, the National Youth Orchestra of Canada is making one of its summer touring appearances at the Festival.

Although I may have missed one somewhere along the line (I always miss a few dates here every summer), the last time I remember the National Youth Orchestra appearing here was back in the days when evening concerts were held at the Parry Sound High School -- and that's many years ago now!

The NYOC is Canada's most comprehensive summer training institute for young orchestral players who show uncommon promise.  They work intensively under skilled mentors in a figurative "hothouse" environment, practising their skills in both chamber and orchestral work, before launching out on tour.

On this occasion, there were two concerts.  An afternoon free concert featured members of the orchestra in some of the chamber works they had been preparing.

A wind quintet gave a sprightly, light-hearted reading of Ibert's Trois pieces brèves.  Horn soloist Martin Mangrum, in Schumann's Adagio and Allegro, Op. 70, produced velvety tone in the adagio and tore through the gymnastics of the allegro with both spirit and precision.

After joining Mangrum in the Schumann, pianist Jonathan Mak then gave a powerhouse performance of the opening Maestoso-allegro con brio of Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 32, Op. 111, one of the greatest and toughest products of Beethoven's later years.  Two movements of the same master's String Quartet No. 10, Op. 74 followed, played with warmth, energy, and broad dynamic range.

The concert concluded with a large-scale, dramatic reading of the first movement of Franck's Piano Quintet, with the players relishing the huge contrasts between the big dramatic gestures and the shapely contrasting theme of rising and falling thirds.

The main evening concert is where this blog post's title really comes in.  The programme consisted of two American masterpieces, followed by a major English work so uncommon on this side of the ocean that I had never before heard it played live -- even though I've known and loved it for nearly 50 years.  Once the entire orchestra was in place (all 95 players), Jim Campbell was able to state with complete assurance that this was the largest number of feet the Festival had ever placed on the stage.

The concert opened with Catfish Row by George Gershwin, a 5-movement suite of orchestral excerpts drawn by the composer from the score of Porgy and Bess.  For many years, this landmark work was judged to be a musical theatre piece, but more recently has been frequently considered a fully-fledged opera.  The suite is dramatic indeed, powerful and dissonant in some parts, yet infused by the composer's signature jazz rhythms elsewhere.  It's interesting for another reason, in that the score contains some passages which the composer had cut out of the complete opera.

Then followed one of the most purely delightful works in the entire American repertoire, the Suite from "Appalachian Spring" by Aaron Copland. Copland was amused no end when people said he had depicted the Appalachians in this work, because the title was a late addition when the score was all but complete. Until then, he just called it "ballet for Martha" (referring to Martha Graham) -- and she had simply asked him for a ballet score with an American theme.

None the less, this is vividly coloured, earthy music, and the orchestra captured all its contrasting moods and styles.  The key requirement here is the need to create a sense of country life in all its variety, in the age of the horse and buggy, the team plough and harvest scythe, the barn-raisings and the church picnics.  The performance certainly met the score's most sophisticated demands while still keeping the essentially folksy, down-home atmosphere.  

The major offering was the third of nine symphonies composed by Ralph Vaughan Williams, entitled simply A Pastoral Symphony.  There couldn't be a bigger contrast from Beethoven's work of similar title!  British musicologist Michael Kennedy, one of the foremost experts on this remarkable composer, affirmed his belief that the work was RVW's requiem for all  his friends and fellow artists who had died in combat in World War One (it was written in the years immediately after the war and first performed in 1922).

It's in four movements, and is predominantly quiet and slow-moving, but within that context are plenty of harmonically unsettling moments -- cleverly disguised by having colliding triads sounded by instruments with totally different sound qualities played in widely differing registers.  A cadenza in the second movement makes use of the natural harmonic series of the trumpet (and, later, the horn) with the flat seventh note that cannot be played on the equally tempered scale of the piano.  The lumbering scherzo has some tricky cross-rhythms, and a thistledown-light high-speed coda whose final notes have to drift across the ears at the lower end of audibility.  All in all, not a work to be taken lightly, nor one to readily yield its elusive magic to either performers or audiences.

From the very first notes, the music cast a spell on the audience.  The all-important string writing was given with beautiful legato tone.  Especially lovely was the frequently-reiterated string tag of a descending triplet, followed by a questioning figure from the oboe, in the first movement.  Solo parts for viola, violin, cor anglais, oboe, trumpet, and horn, all contributed to the unique atmosphere.

As I had expected, the finale opened not with the wordless soprano solo over a quiet drumroll but with the composer's sanctioned alternative of having that rapturous cadenza "sung" by a clarinet -- and it was beautifully done.  The main ascending theme of the movement was firmly and richly played by winds and brass before passing to the strings.  The fff climax of the movement, the unison rendition of the clarinet's solo line by all the violins and violas, was played with tremendous intensity and power.  As the music dwindled away, the clarinet returned with the cadenza, this time under a very quiet sustained high note, ppp, in the violins -- a note which faded away without precisely ending.  I think the composer would have approved.

Conductor Johnathan Darlington led the orchestra throughout the entire programme with great energy, and a strong sense of the line of the music at all times.  While I might have wished for a little bit more give and take in tempo in parts of the symphony, it was still a very fine performance.

Worth waiting half a century to hear?  Definitely.

Festival of the Sound 2018 # 6: Happy Birthday to Us!

This year, Canada's renowned Gryphon Trio celebrates its 25th anniversary.  Also this year, I celebrate my 25th year of attending the Festival of the Sound!  Great -- that means we're all the same youthful age!  

Yeah -- right.

Because the festival in Parry Sound exactly coincides with the Ottawa chamber music festival, of which the Gryphons' cellist Roman Borys is artistic director, we now get only one concert a year with this splendid ensemble.

This year, it came on Sunday afternoon, and consisted of two classical works -- a piano trio in G minor by Haydn and the famous B-flat major trio, Op. 97, The Archduke, by Beethoven.

One of the reasons I'm always ready to encounter works by Haydn which I do not already know is the amazing variety of musical ideas which this ever-productive composer generated.  Textbooks of musical form usually have to avoid using Haydn as their example, because he so rarely conforms to textbook notions of "good form."  Not only that, but he manages to find so many different and intriguing new forms of his own in so many of his works.

The opening movement of this trio, composed in 1793, is a perfect example of Haydn at his most inventive.  Generally it is agreed by the textbooks that a good 18th-19th century opening movement will be in sonata form, while the forms of theme and variations or rondo are most suited to a final movement.  

So what does Haydn do here?  He opens his trio with a rondo, which proves to be in fact a theme and variations type of movement with two themes, the main theme in G minor and the contrasting episode in G major, each subjected to variation treatment in alternating sections with the other.  Genius at play!

I especially enjoyed the wistful, almost reminiscent air which the Gryphons brought to this movement, since Haydn did not often employ minor keys for the same kinds of dramatic purposes as one often finds in Mozart or Beethoven.

The shorter second movement was solemn without becoming sombre, and the lively finale wrapped the work up satisfactorily with a rousing crescendo on the final cadential phrases.

Beethoven's Archduke Trio (so-called because of the dedication to his patron and composition student, the Archduke Rudolf) stands as one of the cornerstones of the piano trio repertoire.  It was written in 1811, at the same time that Beethoven was at work on his Symphony No. 7, but don't look for similarities.  This music is not a symphony in disguise, but is entirely apt to its medium.

It was incidentally, the final work Beethoven performed himself in public as his deafness overcame him.  

I mentioned the coincident timing of the symphony, because it would be all too easy to play the trio in a heavyweight manner.  The Gryphons tackled the score with ample energy, but kept at all times a light, clear, almost Haydnesque tone in their playing.  This brought the work firmly into line with its predecessor which we had already heard, and emphasized the tradition behind the score more than the innovation within it.

The singing tone which the players brought to the andante cantabile movement was a particular delight.  It all added up to a very fine performance of the trio, and a truly delightful afternoon with the classical masters.  Thank you, Gryphon Trio, for once again sharing your art with us.

PS  See you on our 30th?

Festival of the Sound 2018 # 7: Times of Trouble, Times of Joy

The title, Times of Trouble, Times of Joy, served both as a motto for the Festival's opening weekend and as a specific title for the Sunday night concert by the Elmer Iseler Singers.

The entire first half of the concert was given over to a contemporary work, The Little Match Girl Passion, by American composer David Lang.  Originally written for vocal quartet and percussion in 2007, it was expanded for chamber choir and percussion in 2009.

The title explains the work's dual roots.  The story comes from the eponymous children's tale by Hans Christian Andersen, while the structure of the libretto, written by Lang himself, takes its form from the great Passion settings of Bach.

As with Bach, the singers sometimes narrate, sometimes comment on the action, and sometimes meditate on its meaning for them -- and for us.

The resemblance stops there.

Lang's compositional language is uniquely contemporary in fusing together elements of several recent musical movements in new and sometimes unnerving ways.  Minimalism with its short, oft-repeated motifs certainly has a role, and the result is music which is highly constructed, one might almost say "manufactured."

Utterly missing is the profound emotionalism of Bach, which encourages and invites the audience to enter into the sufferings of the Saviour and experience them anew in ourselves. 

The musical language of Lang's work, then, reminds me of nothing so much as the Brechtian model of "epic theatre" which seeks to push us outside of the story, where we can't bring our emotions to bear and must instead respond thoughtfully and rationally to what we hear or see.

Different sections of the choir have their own short musical motifs, which are sung at different speeds to different versions of the text.  One will sing in whole sentences, another in partial phrases, while a third group may only repeat slowly a single key word.  Since the musical phrases often remain unchanged for many repetitions, the breaks between those phrases will sometimes fall right in the middle of a line or sentence, causing a break in the meaning.  

In this way, a short passage of text can be extended over a span of several minutes, with the ever-shifting kaleidoscopic textures continually pointing up new words for our attention.  By contrast, the narrative sections -- lengthy passages drawn from H. P. Paull's English translation of the original story -- are recited relatively quickly, again to repeated melodic motifs.

The score also calls for an assortment of percussion instruments, played (sparingly and always quietly) by four members of the choir. The crystalline glitter of many of these sounds gave all the colour needed to set the winter scene, while the quiet rumbling of the bass drum imparted an apt air of solemnity to the performance. As well, the four players had short solo parts, sung or spoken, at key moments in the story.

Explained this way, in dry, technical language, this may sound like a recipe for boredom.  In performance, it was anything but.

The slow opening section, Come, daughter, exactly analogous in purpose to the opening chorus of Bach's St. Matthew Passion, drew the audience in with the quiet, hypnotic repetitions of the key words "come" and "gone."

From that point, the performance continued with the utter concentration of the singers paralleled by an equally intense stillness among the listeners.  Guest director Mitchell Pady conducted in a spare, simple style appropriate to the nature of the work.  The singing, too, remained for the most part quiet, firm and clear, but rarely expressive.  The exception came with the chorus, Eli, Eli -- significantly, the one part of the text which was drawn directly from Bach.

It was significant, too, that Lang stopped his quotation of Christ's cry of anguish at that point -- "My God, My God" -- without continuing on to lama sabachthani -- "Why have you forsaken me?"

The choir's diction throughout was impeccable, an absolutely critical requirement in a work where the text is so thoroughly disassembled and reconstructed in so many different forms.

More than anything, I was struck by the fact that the performance left me, not with feelings of sympathy for the little girl, but with a profound sadness for a human race that claims to be "civilized" yet fails to prevent such things from continuing to happen  -- and they do continue, today.

The impact of The Little Match Girl Passion was such that I chose not to remain for the second half of the concert.  I truly needed time to ponder the power and meaning of what I had just heard, and I feared that the second half of the programme, representing the "times of joy", would cause me to lose my connection with the experience.

That second half, by the way, included many audience favourites such as a group of spirituals, Bach's famous chorale Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring, I Vow to Thee My Country, grandmother moon by Parry Sound-born Eleanor Daley, and ended with a rousing sing-along of Beethoven's immortal Ode to Joy.  I know that Music Director Lydia Adams would have directed all of this music with her customary skill, and I'm sure I would have enjoyed all of it -- but not on this particular occasion.

Festival of the Sound 2018 # 5: Cocktails at 5:30, Dinner to Follow.

Saturday of the opening weekend was given over to the annual fundraising gala dinner/concert, this year with a "Roaring 20s" theme.  I've never been much for playing dress-up except when I was acting in the theatre, but plenty of people did dig out appropriate hats, dresses, ties, jewellery, and fascinators for the occasion -- which gave the whole event a distinctly light-hearted and fun vibe.

The pre-dinner cash bar was accompanied by a generous spread of cheese, crackers, and fresh berries.  Some people lingered in the lobby area, while others sauntered out onto the broad deck to sit admiring the view of the Big Sound (always my choice).

Shortly before 6:30 the doors of the hall opened, and we began to be seated.  The Charles W. Stockey centre was designed so that all the theatre seating on the main floor could be folded or moved away, along with the supporting structure, leaving behind a flat-floored hall which can then be set with tables and chairs.  

The meal began with a generous salad, moved on to chicken a la king with vegetables and mashed potatoes, and ended with a mixed berry shortcake with a rich caramel sauce, and coffee or tea.

Unlike previous years, the entire meal was served before the performance began.

The concert carried through the fun vibe of the party.  The programme was made up mainly of works first performed in between 1918 and 1930, right through the years known to many as the "Jazz Age."  Much of the music we heard was either overtly classifiable as jazz, or at least influenced by the sounds and rhythms of jazz.

Composers represented ranged from Stravinsky, Martinu, and Ravel to Ellington, Gilliland, and Gershwin.

The eleven performers mixed and matched in all kinds of combinations, with a different ensemble for almost every piece on the programme.  It would be almost impossible to detail the special beauties and qualities of all the works, and I won't try.

But I will say that, unlike some previous special events, there was no overlap from programmes of the regular concerts.  I've sometimes felt annoyed in the past when I laid out extra dollars for one of these "specials" only to hear much of the same music that I will hear or have heard in other events.

This was, all in all, a delightful programme with much of the music well-judged to set toes tapping and put a smile on your face.  

Festival of the Sound 2018 # 4: Gala Opening Concert

I admit, it sounds odd to be covering the Gala Opening Concert of the 2018 Festival in my fourth Festival review of the year.  This is what comes of taking advantage of the pre-season offerings!

The opening concert brought a long-planned and long-awaited world premiere of a commissioned work, Sounding Thunder: The Song of Francis Pegahmagabow.  This powerful new multi-disciplinary hybrid work revealed to the audience the remarkable triumphs and tragedies of a man whose history has until now existed largely as a footnote in military accounts of the First World War.  The Canada Council for the Arts certainly didn't put a foot wrong when they gave this project a grant under their New Chapter programme, one of 200 projects so funded.

* * * * *

That work came in the second half.  The first half opened with traditional Anishnaabe songs of welcome and recognition sung with drumming by the Wasauksing Little Spirit Singers, a group of children ranging in age from 5 to 20.  They were followed by an elder, John Rice, speaking traditional words of welcome.  Rice then explained for the audience the significance of the drumming as an expression of, and a means of seeking unity with, the heartbeat of Mother Earth.

Next we heard a suite of three excerpts from L'histoire du soldat by Stravinsky, a work which was first performed 100 years ago.  The importance of this selection became apparent later on.  All seven players relished the unique colours and effects of Stravinsky's writing for this unusual ensemble of violin, double bass, clarinet, bassoon, trumpet, trombone, and percussion.

The next work was a new suite of miniature chamber tone poems, Masques of Canada, by Glen Montgomery.  He's a long-time favourite of Festival audiences as a pianist who can, and apparently will, play absolutely anything and everything -- all in the same day -- but here took a bow as composer.  The opening Bear seemed a bit anonymous to me, but there was no mistaking the more rapid and playful scherzando manner of Skating with Mahovlich and Orr.  The austere and reflective Yukon Church then gave a moment of repose before the longest of the four movements, the lively and energetic Montreal Jazz.

* * * * *

After the intermission, it was time for the main work, Sounding Thunder.  This unique piece melded together aspects of opera, theatre, music, film, and traditional singing and drumming into a gripping artistic experience for which I cannot imagine a proper genre title.

The text, by poet Armand Garnet Ruffo, told the story in a mixture of narrations and spoken dialogue, all couched in language that captured in prose and poetry alike the mystery of ancient tradition.  The extensive musical score composed by Timothy Corlis couched this text in a shimmering soundscape of many colours, weaving an aura of theatrical magic.  Corlis deliberately used the same instrumental ensemble as Stravinsky 100 years earlier, in the hope that the two works might be presented together as a double bill in future.

The work was divided into three acts, each one with three scenes within it, although the whole work was played without any breaks.  The first act depicted the youth of Francis, his early immersion in the spiritual traditions of his people, and his growth to manhood.  Act 2 was devoted to his wartime experience as a remarkably accurate sniper.  The third act confronted us with the contradictions and roadblocks that beset his life after the war, living under the thumb of the all-powerful government Indian agents while struggling to help native peoples everywhere assert themselves and their treaty rights more forcefully.

The narration was given by Brian McInnes, great-grandson of Francis and author of a detailed and powerful book about the life of his remarkable forebear.  His voice, always strong and clear, guided us through a story which of necessity is told in short, almost cinematic, flashes of time.

Waawaate Fobister performed the role of Francis, his lighter, ringing tone contrasting effectively with the deeper voice of McInnes.  Even in a concert format which had him standing in one spot, the emotions and thoughts of the character were always crystal-clear.

Jennifer Kreisberg gave a truly haunting performance in both singing and speaking as the Deer-Woman Spirit, the guide and guardian of Francis.  Jodi Baker Contin joined with her in several parts of the work in traditional singing and drumming.

Lest any of my readers be concerned about possible issues of cultural appropriation, I can reassure you that all of the people I have named so far are members of various First Nations traditions except one -- and composer Corlis has been given a traditional name by one of the native communities of the west coast.  Also, the creators of the work consulted with other descendants of Francis Pegahmagabow in preparing the text and music.

In performance, Sounding Thunder had remarkable impact and power.  The music and text united in a flow of story which gained power and momentum as it proceeded.  The ensemble of seven musicians were guided by conductor Larry Beckwith in a pinpoint-sharp performance of a score with many momentary effects leaping out from the more general soundscape.

Especially notable was the performance of percussionist Beverley Johnston on a handpan, a special form of steel drum designed to be played with the hands rather than with sticks or mallets.  She conjured remarkably evocative sounds from this instrument, highly formative in the overall sound world of the music.

Conductor Beckwith also presented the spoken parts of a shaman and the various non-native characters in the story: a general in the war, a reporter, and the obstructive Indian agent.  No mean feat to utter these lines while still guiding the ensemble through some of the trickiest passages in the music!  Personally, though, I felt the drama would be better served by having an actor who could differentiate between these diverse characters more, bringing a greater impact to these moments by focusing solely on the text.

It's unfortunate that the programme leaflet didn't credit the creator of the video backdrop. This montage of archival photos combined with artworks did so much to create the atmosphere of the various rapid scenes in the story as we heard it unfolding.

The final scene of the work depicted Francis passing from this life to the next, in a dream in which he relived his earliest encounter with the Deer-Woman Spirit.  The music flowed directly then into a closing traditional song in which all four of the native performers joined in singing and drumming as the instrumental ensemble first fell silent, then stood up to join them in the singing.

And here a remarkable thing happened.  Slowly, in twos and threes, the audience began rising to their feet and joining in the song until almost the entire assembly of hundreds were on their feet.  I felt an enormous lump in my throat at this communal affirmation of the significance of all that we had seen and heard that night, a true time of reconciliation.

Sounding Thunder gave its audience a powerful and much-needed gift -- something to think deeply about outside, under the stars, as we made our way back to our homes.

Festival of the Sound 2018 # 3: Water and Fireworks Music

Hard to believe that I'm already reviewing my third event of my favourite annual music festival, which hasn't even officially opened!

And just in case you're wondering, this review has nothing whatsoever to do with Handel.

Every year, the Festival of the Sound sponsors a Canada Day cruise concert on the Island Queen V tour boat out of Parry Sound.  Even though I'm heading into my 25th annual season attending the Festival, this year's event was the first Canada Day cruise I had ever attended.

The 3½-hour Canada Day cruise sails from the town dock at 7:00pm, and in just a few minutes the music gets fired up.  This year the entertainment was provided by "End of the Road," a great example of a traditional down-east band.  

They played three sets during the cruise, with a lively mix of toe-tapping folk songs and dances, traditional songs, Maritime and Newfoundland standards and not-so-standards, and more.  Easy to listen to, easy to set the toes and fingers going, and even got a few people up and dancing -- more power to them!  The singing and playing were both excellent and engaging.

The performance on these cruises always takes place on the lowest deck of the ship, which has the largest enclosed space and the most seats.  An excellent sound system relays the music vividly and clearly to the middle enclosed deck and the open-air top deck.  The ship cruises along the winding channels between mainland shore and islands, or between islands and islands, while the sun slowly descends into the western horizon.

And on a very hot weekend, such as we've had this year, there's no better place to be for some moving air and fresh breeze.  

The scenic highlight comes in the post-twilight sunset glow as the ship navigates the narrow, rock-walled channel called The Hole in the Wall, separating Wall Island from Huckleberry Island.  

With perfect timing essential, the Island Queen V approaches the harbour just a few minutes before 10:00 pm, to be joined in a parade by several of the smaller sightseeing vessels, and the OPP patrol boat.  Inside the harbour are dozens -- probably hundreds -- of smaller private boats, many decked with multi-coloured lights.  The ship's speed drops to dead slow.

At 10:00 on the dot the first fireworks rocket upwards from a barge on the east side of the harbour.  The real bonus value of the cruise becomes apparent at this moment.  The top deck of the Island Queen V is the highest thing afloat in Parry Sound harbour, and has a perfect and completely unobstructed view of the entire spectacle.  The show carried on for fifteen minutes, full of colour and drama, and ending with what I can only call a fusillade of about 20 set piece fireworks going off at 1 and 2 second intervals, all in a string.

The end of the show is greeted with cheering, applause, and boat and ship horns from all corners of the harbour -- and then the ship makes its way slowly to the dock, arriving at 10:30 pm.

I don't know why it's taken me so long to get around to taking this special cruise, but I certainly plan on returning next year!