Wednesday of Week Three brought a tremendous diversity of musical styles, represented by a selection of composers covering seven different countries in all. Hence my title.
The afternoon opened with a recital of music for piano duo and two pianos, performed by the wife-and-husband Bergmann Duo from British Columbia.
They began with the splendid opening movement of the Grand Duo sonata in C major for piano duo (i.e. for 4 hands at 1 piano). In introducing it, Marcel Bergmann commented that the complete work would have taken up nearly the entire programme (true). That didn't stop me from wishing to hear it all anyway, and by the time the concert was done I wished doubly that they had done so.
Their playing in the Grand Duo embodied the best techniques of piano duet performance, a light touch and crisp articulation which ensure that all the musical ideas come out clearly without the sound becoming overwhelming.
Once the Bergmanns moved to 2 pianos, the sound did indeed become overwhelming, with their selection of works calling for far too much fortissimo playing from both pianists. Technically, the performances were a stunning tour de force, but musically left something to be desired.
A good example was Gershwin's symphonic poem, An American in Paris. Many of us know and love this music in its orchestral form, treasuring its piquant orchestration and perky, jazzy tone. Alas, in this 2-piano transcription, the chromatic harmonies become harsh and unappealing, and the heavy-weight playing only served to emphasize the harshness.
Ravel's transcription of the tone poem, Nuages, by Debussy (the first of his Trois Nocturnes), at least offered better odds but here again the playing was simply too heavy. The original work is written to be played very quietly -- judging by recordings I know, the music rarely if ever rises above a piano dynamic marking. In this performance, the dark clouds of sound kept threatening to turn into a major thunderstorm.
On the other hand, we all got a good laugh out of the sudden intrusion of two unexpected guests into the Bergmanns' encore, and the ensuing shenanigans.
Ravel's transcription of the tone poem, Nuages, by Debussy (the first of his Trois Nocturnes), at least offered better odds but here again the playing was simply too heavy. The original work is written to be played very quietly -- judging by recordings I know, the music rarely if ever rises above a piano dynamic marking. In this performance, the dark clouds of sound kept threatening to turn into a major thunderstorm.
On the other hand, we all got a good laugh out of the sudden intrusion of two unexpected guests into the Bergmanns' encore, and the ensuing shenanigans.
The second concert couldn't have offered a greater contrast, as the Cheng²Duo performed a selection of four works by four different Russian composers. I've heard them play all these works before, so in this article I will simply focus in on two notable areas of difference from the last occasion.
(You can read that previous review here: The Moscow Sound)
First up was the Pezzo Capriccioso by Tchaikovsky. Here, I felt that the faster sections had become more playful, with less tension, than at the previous hearing. Suddenly the title fitted the music better than I had remembered. The other noteworthy difference was in the Cello Sonata by Shostakovich. Here, we experienced a markedly deeper, more intense descent into the brooding melancholy of the slower pages -- an intensity that brought this piece fully into line with the darkest, most powerful moments in such later works as the first Violin Concerto or the Tenth Symphony. The Cheng²Duo's interpretation here has gained definite stature and power with time.
Which is not to say that the Rachmaninov Vocalise or Prokofiev Cello Sonata were in any way also-rans, just that differences in those works were less noticeable. The entire recital was as polished and as accomplished as we've come to expect from these artists.
The evening concert featured a programme which they can play for me in heaven, and all of the performances ranked at that standard too.
The Bergmann Duo led off with the overture to The Magic Flute by Mozart, in the arrangement for two pianos by Ferrucio Busoni. Was this really the same duo that had almost pounded the pianos into the floor in the afternoon? The playing was light, delicate, fantastic -- just the style demanded by this brilliantly sparkling music. Busoni's arrangement was excellent, sticking very close to the Mozartean original with only a few little pianistic flourishes added. A delightful curtain-raiser in every way.
Next we heard the Cheng²Duo with Jim Campbell on clarinet in Brahms' autumnal Clarinet Trio in A Minor, Op. 114. Of the three late Brahms masterpieces with clarinet, this trio remains my firm personal favourite, although the Clarinet Quintet ranks as one of the most-requested and most-performed works at the Festival.
Where the younger Brahms laid out his music with broad strokes and vivid colours, the older composer favoured a subtler style, with little details lightly touched in and more gradual tonal shadings. And subtlety was the keynote of this performance. Silvie Cheng on piano anchored the ensemble without ever overwhelming it, playing Brahms with an almost Mozartean lightness of touch. Bryan Cheng on cello traded musical lines with Jim Campbell with beautiful fluency and unity of mood.
Then, in the finale, the unexpected mood shift found all three bouncing through the lively dance-like music with a real burst of energy, while still maintaining that balance and unity. This would most definitely have been a performance to live with on record.
The concert concluded with the all-too-rare String Quintet in C Minor, D.956 by Schubert. This work is one of three late Schubert works which signpost the road not taken, since almost no other composers ever followed Schubert's lead in his instrumentation of this quintet, the Trout Quintet, or the Octet. As a footnote, it's worth recalling that Brahms did cast his first quintet essay as a string quintet with 2 cellos before recomposing it as a sonata for 2 pianos (Op. 34b), and then at last as the famous Piano Quintet in F Minor, Op. 34a.
This Quintet is Schubert's final completed chamber work. At its heart is the unearthly beauty of the adagio second movement, one of the very few true adagios Schubert composed. So slowly does time move in eternity that this long-breathed, serene musical stillness, which can easily last for 3 or 4 minutes, occupies a mere 6 lines of score.
This quintet, unlike all other string quintets of Brahms, Mozart, Dvorak and the rest, adds a second cello instead of a second viola -- giving the music a rich, dark warmth of tone. More than this, the Quintet brims over with some of the most obstinately memorable earworms Schubert ever composed -- memorable, but in a completely different, almost otherworldly mode compared to the rustic-folk inspiration of the Trout. The only other work to which I can distantly compare it is the String Quartet No. 2 by Anton Arensky, a memorial tribute to Tchaikovsky which uses violin, viola, and 2 cellos.
It's been a long time since I heard this magnificent Schubert masterpiece in live concert, and the Tiberius Quartet joined with cellist Bryan Cheng in a performance that fully transported us into those other worlds which Schubert envisaged.
The gentleness of playing in the first movement was exemplary, with the first appearance of the singing second theme on the 2 cellos a highlight.
The stillness and calm in the second movement had me holding my breath in for fear of breaking the spell -- exactly the needed effect on the audience. Then the vehement interlude erupted with a bold savagery that maximized the contrast. The lead-back to the serene opening unfolded with a perfect sense of inevitability. Then the reprise of that heavenly stillness was touched in with the lightest of tone by the gentle arabesques of Cheng and violinist Tibor Molnár.
In the scherzo, the earthy folk-dance hit us with a force that suggested a dance of giants. That's largely a result of the 9-part writing, with double stops in every instrument except the first violin, and with the cellos playing heavily on open strings. I've always felt that this movement as much as the scherzo of the Great C Major Symphony (#9) points the way forward to the gigantic scherzo movements of Bruckner, and here the players generated an almost Brucknerian power and force in the music. Then, again with a huge contrast, the quiet trio looked backwards to the serenity and quiet of the first two movements.
The finale, allegretto, is punctuated by frequently repeated staccato upbeat notes that lead off each rendition of the main theme. The effect is again not unlike a folk dance, and in this performance each upbeat was marked by an ever-so-slight hesitation in the rhythm before the downbeat landed with especial emphasis -- this underlined the folk-like character of the music. The players built the movement along a clear line leading up to the furious coda, in which the music keeps getting faster and faster -- piu allegro followed a few lines later by piu presto -- and ripped the final notes off with great élan. A spectacular ending to a truly rewarding concert.
First up was the Pezzo Capriccioso by Tchaikovsky. Here, I felt that the faster sections had become more playful, with less tension, than at the previous hearing. Suddenly the title fitted the music better than I had remembered. The other noteworthy difference was in the Cello Sonata by Shostakovich. Here, we experienced a markedly deeper, more intense descent into the brooding melancholy of the slower pages -- an intensity that brought this piece fully into line with the darkest, most powerful moments in such later works as the first Violin Concerto or the Tenth Symphony. The Cheng²Duo's interpretation here has gained definite stature and power with time.
Which is not to say that the Rachmaninov Vocalise or Prokofiev Cello Sonata were in any way also-rans, just that differences in those works were less noticeable. The entire recital was as polished and as accomplished as we've come to expect from these artists.
The evening concert featured a programme which they can play for me in heaven, and all of the performances ranked at that standard too.
The Bergmann Duo led off with the overture to The Magic Flute by Mozart, in the arrangement for two pianos by Ferrucio Busoni. Was this really the same duo that had almost pounded the pianos into the floor in the afternoon? The playing was light, delicate, fantastic -- just the style demanded by this brilliantly sparkling music. Busoni's arrangement was excellent, sticking very close to the Mozartean original with only a few little pianistic flourishes added. A delightful curtain-raiser in every way.
Next we heard the Cheng²Duo with Jim Campbell on clarinet in Brahms' autumnal Clarinet Trio in A Minor, Op. 114. Of the three late Brahms masterpieces with clarinet, this trio remains my firm personal favourite, although the Clarinet Quintet ranks as one of the most-requested and most-performed works at the Festival.
Where the younger Brahms laid out his music with broad strokes and vivid colours, the older composer favoured a subtler style, with little details lightly touched in and more gradual tonal shadings. And subtlety was the keynote of this performance. Silvie Cheng on piano anchored the ensemble without ever overwhelming it, playing Brahms with an almost Mozartean lightness of touch. Bryan Cheng on cello traded musical lines with Jim Campbell with beautiful fluency and unity of mood.
Then, in the finale, the unexpected mood shift found all three bouncing through the lively dance-like music with a real burst of energy, while still maintaining that balance and unity. This would most definitely have been a performance to live with on record.
The concert concluded with the all-too-rare String Quintet in C Minor, D.956 by Schubert. This work is one of three late Schubert works which signpost the road not taken, since almost no other composers ever followed Schubert's lead in his instrumentation of this quintet, the Trout Quintet, or the Octet. As a footnote, it's worth recalling that Brahms did cast his first quintet essay as a string quintet with 2 cellos before recomposing it as a sonata for 2 pianos (Op. 34b), and then at last as the famous Piano Quintet in F Minor, Op. 34a.
This Quintet is Schubert's final completed chamber work. At its heart is the unearthly beauty of the adagio second movement, one of the very few true adagios Schubert composed. So slowly does time move in eternity that this long-breathed, serene musical stillness, which can easily last for 3 or 4 minutes, occupies a mere 6 lines of score.
This quintet, unlike all other string quintets of Brahms, Mozart, Dvorak and the rest, adds a second cello instead of a second viola -- giving the music a rich, dark warmth of tone. More than this, the Quintet brims over with some of the most obstinately memorable earworms Schubert ever composed -- memorable, but in a completely different, almost otherworldly mode compared to the rustic-folk inspiration of the Trout. The only other work to which I can distantly compare it is the String Quartet No. 2 by Anton Arensky, a memorial tribute to Tchaikovsky which uses violin, viola, and 2 cellos.
It's been a long time since I heard this magnificent Schubert masterpiece in live concert, and the Tiberius Quartet joined with cellist Bryan Cheng in a performance that fully transported us into those other worlds which Schubert envisaged.
The gentleness of playing in the first movement was exemplary, with the first appearance of the singing second theme on the 2 cellos a highlight.
The stillness and calm in the second movement had me holding my breath in for fear of breaking the spell -- exactly the needed effect on the audience. Then the vehement interlude erupted with a bold savagery that maximized the contrast. The lead-back to the serene opening unfolded with a perfect sense of inevitability. Then the reprise of that heavenly stillness was touched in with the lightest of tone by the gentle arabesques of Cheng and violinist Tibor Molnár.
In the scherzo, the earthy folk-dance hit us with a force that suggested a dance of giants. That's largely a result of the 9-part writing, with double stops in every instrument except the first violin, and with the cellos playing heavily on open strings. I've always felt that this movement as much as the scherzo of the Great C Major Symphony (#9) points the way forward to the gigantic scherzo movements of Bruckner, and here the players generated an almost Brucknerian power and force in the music. Then, again with a huge contrast, the quiet trio looked backwards to the serenity and quiet of the first two movements.
The finale, allegretto, is punctuated by frequently repeated staccato upbeat notes that lead off each rendition of the main theme. The effect is again not unlike a folk dance, and in this performance each upbeat was marked by an ever-so-slight hesitation in the rhythm before the downbeat landed with especial emphasis -- this underlined the folk-like character of the music. The players built the movement along a clear line leading up to the furious coda, in which the music keeps getting faster and faster -- piu allegro followed a few lines later by piu presto -- and ripped the final notes off with great élan. A spectacular ending to a truly rewarding concert.
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