Thursday produced only two concerts, but both were of the memorable blockbuster variety that causes them to be remembered well into later years.
In the afternoon we had a stunning pair of string quartets from the Rolston Quartet, and in the evening the National Youth Orchestra scored a remarkable first: the debut on the Festival stage of the Symphony No. 5 by Gustav Mahler.
The afternoon concert opened with the String Quartet No. 19 in C Major, K.465 ("Dissonance") by Mozart. If you haven't heard the work, fear not -- the dissonance occurs only in the adagio introduction to the first movement. It always strikes me as Mozart's attempt to show cosmos evolving out of chaos, a subject which Haydn also tackled with strikingly different results in the orchestral introduction to his oratorio, The Creation. The Rolston ensemble played that searching chain of dissonances with great intensity, savouring the moment when dissonance finally elides into consonance, allowing the allegro movement to launch.
Their interpretation of the quartet as a whole was given on a broad scale of tone more evocative of Schubert than Mozart. The result wasn't perhaps the most authentic, and might not be considered a performance to live with on a recording by many music lovers, but I personally liked the go-for-it power of the music's louder moments, the sharply-pointed yet still big sforzandi, and the contrasting quiet intensity of the softer passages.
In a performance of this character, even the "cantabile" of the andante movement became the singing of a trumpeting opera ensemble rather than a lyrical melody. The emphatic chording of the minuet lent the music a distinctly rustic, earthy quality. The final allegro then wound the quartet up with plenty of fiery energy and dash to spare.
After a short pause the Quartet then played the String Quartet No. 14 in D Minor, D.810 ("Death and the Maiden") by Schubert. This searching work, more sustained in its intensity than almost any other music ever written, is as much a testing ground for a string quartet as anything Beethoven ever wrote. Indeed, it's not stretching a point to say that Schubert in this piece fully achieved his intention of becoming the next Beethoven.
It's no contradiction to say, in the same sentence or breath, that the Rolstons gave this quartet a totally stunning performance, but that they can and will do it better. All performing artists know that "Better" always lies somewhere beyond the level you presently are achieving. In this case, it lies further ahead in time.
The full emotional intensity of this quartet is difficult to unlock for someone who hasn't yet experienced some pretty severe shocks and heartbreaks at the hands of this merciless taskmaster we call "life." The real miracle of the music is the way that Schubert tapped into all of that emotional depth and intensity when he was not yet 30 years old. It will indeed be fascinating to hear what this ensemble, should it still be in existence, will make of this music in, say, 15 years' time.
What they made of it on this occasion was already memorable, to say the least. The first movement was full of fiery fury and anger, with phrase ends bitten off sharply, yet it was anger kept on a tight, controlled rein -- the sound remaining at all times musical, never allowed to grow raw around the edges. When played like this, the quartet can and does sound like a symphony in embryo. Given the headlong energy which the Rolstons brought to the music, skipping the exposition repeat made sense -- although I normally prefer to hear it played.
The heart and soul of the music are found in the second movement, the variations on the melody of Schubert's earlier lied which gives the quartet its nickname. While it's not a good idea to focus too much on the words of the song while playing the quartet, there's no denying that the generalized idea of death calling to us governs the theme, and thus the entire movement.
Taking the opening theme at a flowing tempo, the quartet then characterized each of the variations with a good mixture of boldness and sensitivity. The quieter variations featured more delicate playing to offset the emphatic crunch of the bows into the strings in the bigger sections. Particularly effective were the violin and cello melodic lines in the first two variations. The final coda of the song died away into nothing rather than clearly ending.
The brief third movement brought the greatest contrasts between the brawny playing of the "demonic" scherzo theme and the lyrically lilting trio.
If the final movement, a tarantella, is indeed a dance of death (as so many commentators have said) then the Rolston Quartet were definitely tempting fate, taking the main theme at a daringly fast pace that had many of us wondering where they were going to go in the prestissimo of the final coda. Where they went was to become faster still -- yet, incredibly, all the individual notes of that final frenetic page remained completely audible and distinct. A stunning performance, giving promise of much more to look forward to in future.
Best news of the day: James Campbell announced that he has already invited this gifted ensemble back for next season.
For the evening concert, the Festival welcomed the return of the National Youth Orchestra, Canada's pre-eminent orchestral training workshop ensemble. The concert opened with Johan Halvorsen's violin/cello duet arrangement of a Handel passacaglia, showcasing the talents of the concertmaster and principal cellist. The programme concluded, according to tradition, with the entire orchestra converting into a beautiful choir and singing two harmonized songs, one in French and one in English.
The principal business of the evening, though, was a single large work: Gustav Mahler's Symphony No. 5.
This is undoubtedly the loudest piece of classical music ever performed in the Charles W. Stockey Centre, and quite likely the first complete performance of a Mahler symphony ever given in Parry Sound.
For this reason, I want to start with a bit of a programme note, since the Festival programme has no room for such material.
This symphony was the first Mahler ever wrote without having recourse to some kind of written programme, narrative, or movement titles. Yet it still follows the composer's famous dictum that a symphony must encompass the whole world, and it has a narrative, albeit not an overt one.
This symphony displays a remarkable new attitude to tonality. Instead of following classical practice and having the symphony end in the same key as it began, or a related key, Mahler opens this work in a tortured C sharp minor and ends the final movement in a radiant, grandiose D major.
The work has a fascinating symmetrical structure, highlighted by the composer when he divided the work into three parts. Part One comprises the first two movements: a towering funeral march with an angry allegro section embedded, and a fiery, furious allegro with another, quite different funeral march at its heart. It's no wonder that most commentators see these two movements as being in fact a single unity.
Part Two contains only the third movement, an example of the slow Austrian triple-time dance called the ländler. Mahler was inordinately fond of this country dance, and examples of it crop up at all stages of his career, and in the majority of his symphonies. This is by far the longest movement, so its place at the centre of the work stamps it as the symphony's focal point. It's interesting, then, that in a work with so much sound and fury, the first theme of this centrepiece is slow, gracious, a bit indolent, even seductive to a degree. But the movement often gets beyond that territory and is full of sudden, dramatic key changes, stops and starts, changes of tempo, and the like. It finishes in a mood of raucous celebration.
Part Three begins with the sombrely luminous Adagietto, which is far better known than the symphony as a whole, thanks to its use in film, television, and even in commercials. Sombre because of the frequent playing on the low strings of the violins, luminous because of the liquid harp arpeggios which lighten the mood throughout, the Adagietto is undoubtedly a love song -- and as certainly addressed to Mahler's wife, Alma. The soaring climaxes of the music make it easy to overlook the multiple changes of time signature in this piece, sometimes shifting from 3 to 5 to 2 to 4 and back to 3 beats in just a few bars. it gives the melody lines an appealing feeling of flexibility, of twin souls breathing.
The final fading note of the violins carries quietly over into the opening of the finale, a brisk, bright rondo where the orchestral textures are dominated by counterpoint, the interaction of melodic lines to create the musical texture, rather than writing the music by chords. The sudden stops and starts return, along with frequent changes of orchestration. The music's raucous character is emphasized by Mahler's oft-repeated direction that the horns, clarinets, and oboes should forcefully play with the bell of the instrument held up high -- thus creating a bright, glaring quality to the sound. While this technique is used in all his symphonies, it probably gets more use in the Fifth than in any of the others. The final movement eventually builds up an unstoppable head of speed. After a glorious, triumphant, chorale-like episode in D major dominated by the brass choir (briefly foreshadowed at the end of the second movement), the orchestra launches into a frantically celebratory coda, spinning faster and faster until, with one final pause on an unexpected note, a last downwards plunge ends the entire work on three emphatic chords.
Under the direction of Michael Francis, the orchestra gave this massive, complex work a performance which could stand comparison with any other I have heard. As examples of the sophistication of this reading, take the clear distinction between 3-note and 4-note figures in the string writing of the first movement, or the crisp staccato of the horns in the second. The gentle ebb and flow of the ländler tempo in the third movement found the whole ensemble speeding up and slowing down in virtually perfect unity. The Adagietto featured some beautifully underplayed portamento from the violins, a tricky effect to bring off without being glaringly obvious. In the finale, all the complex lines of the counterpoint came through crystal-clear, so that the alert listener could pick out any one line and follow it with no trouble.
All of this comes down, as much as anything, to the impressive balances achieved by Maestro Francis. Without careful attention to balance, it's all too easy to make any Mahler score deteriorate into noisy mush. I was particularly impressed because my seat, right under the elbows of the back desks of first violins, still allowed me to hear any and every aspect of the complex orchestration throughout the entire symphony.
Not the least impressive was the tremendous energy, zest, fire, which these players brought to the score. It's that immense passion for the music, more than any other single quality, which ideally fits this orchestra to tackle the passionate music of Mahler. This concert was memorable!
In a performance of this character, even the "cantabile" of the andante movement became the singing of a trumpeting opera ensemble rather than a lyrical melody. The emphatic chording of the minuet lent the music a distinctly rustic, earthy quality. The final allegro then wound the quartet up with plenty of fiery energy and dash to spare.
After a short pause the Quartet then played the String Quartet No. 14 in D Minor, D.810 ("Death and the Maiden") by Schubert. This searching work, more sustained in its intensity than almost any other music ever written, is as much a testing ground for a string quartet as anything Beethoven ever wrote. Indeed, it's not stretching a point to say that Schubert in this piece fully achieved his intention of becoming the next Beethoven.
It's no contradiction to say, in the same sentence or breath, that the Rolstons gave this quartet a totally stunning performance, but that they can and will do it better. All performing artists know that "Better" always lies somewhere beyond the level you presently are achieving. In this case, it lies further ahead in time.
The full emotional intensity of this quartet is difficult to unlock for someone who hasn't yet experienced some pretty severe shocks and heartbreaks at the hands of this merciless taskmaster we call "life." The real miracle of the music is the way that Schubert tapped into all of that emotional depth and intensity when he was not yet 30 years old. It will indeed be fascinating to hear what this ensemble, should it still be in existence, will make of this music in, say, 15 years' time.
What they made of it on this occasion was already memorable, to say the least. The first movement was full of fiery fury and anger, with phrase ends bitten off sharply, yet it was anger kept on a tight, controlled rein -- the sound remaining at all times musical, never allowed to grow raw around the edges. When played like this, the quartet can and does sound like a symphony in embryo. Given the headlong energy which the Rolstons brought to the music, skipping the exposition repeat made sense -- although I normally prefer to hear it played.
The heart and soul of the music are found in the second movement, the variations on the melody of Schubert's earlier lied which gives the quartet its nickname. While it's not a good idea to focus too much on the words of the song while playing the quartet, there's no denying that the generalized idea of death calling to us governs the theme, and thus the entire movement.
Taking the opening theme at a flowing tempo, the quartet then characterized each of the variations with a good mixture of boldness and sensitivity. The quieter variations featured more delicate playing to offset the emphatic crunch of the bows into the strings in the bigger sections. Particularly effective were the violin and cello melodic lines in the first two variations. The final coda of the song died away into nothing rather than clearly ending.
The brief third movement brought the greatest contrasts between the brawny playing of the "demonic" scherzo theme and the lyrically lilting trio.
If the final movement, a tarantella, is indeed a dance of death (as so many commentators have said) then the Rolston Quartet were definitely tempting fate, taking the main theme at a daringly fast pace that had many of us wondering where they were going to go in the prestissimo of the final coda. Where they went was to become faster still -- yet, incredibly, all the individual notes of that final frenetic page remained completely audible and distinct. A stunning performance, giving promise of much more to look forward to in future.
Best news of the day: James Campbell announced that he has already invited this gifted ensemble back for next season.
For the evening concert, the Festival welcomed the return of the National Youth Orchestra, Canada's pre-eminent orchestral training workshop ensemble. The concert opened with Johan Halvorsen's violin/cello duet arrangement of a Handel passacaglia, showcasing the talents of the concertmaster and principal cellist. The programme concluded, according to tradition, with the entire orchestra converting into a beautiful choir and singing two harmonized songs, one in French and one in English.
The principal business of the evening, though, was a single large work: Gustav Mahler's Symphony No. 5.
This is undoubtedly the loudest piece of classical music ever performed in the Charles W. Stockey Centre, and quite likely the first complete performance of a Mahler symphony ever given in Parry Sound.
For this reason, I want to start with a bit of a programme note, since the Festival programme has no room for such material.
This symphony was the first Mahler ever wrote without having recourse to some kind of written programme, narrative, or movement titles. Yet it still follows the composer's famous dictum that a symphony must encompass the whole world, and it has a narrative, albeit not an overt one.
This symphony displays a remarkable new attitude to tonality. Instead of following classical practice and having the symphony end in the same key as it began, or a related key, Mahler opens this work in a tortured C sharp minor and ends the final movement in a radiant, grandiose D major.
The work has a fascinating symmetrical structure, highlighted by the composer when he divided the work into three parts. Part One comprises the first two movements: a towering funeral march with an angry allegro section embedded, and a fiery, furious allegro with another, quite different funeral march at its heart. It's no wonder that most commentators see these two movements as being in fact a single unity.
Part Two contains only the third movement, an example of the slow Austrian triple-time dance called the ländler. Mahler was inordinately fond of this country dance, and examples of it crop up at all stages of his career, and in the majority of his symphonies. This is by far the longest movement, so its place at the centre of the work stamps it as the symphony's focal point. It's interesting, then, that in a work with so much sound and fury, the first theme of this centrepiece is slow, gracious, a bit indolent, even seductive to a degree. But the movement often gets beyond that territory and is full of sudden, dramatic key changes, stops and starts, changes of tempo, and the like. It finishes in a mood of raucous celebration.
Part Three begins with the sombrely luminous Adagietto, which is far better known than the symphony as a whole, thanks to its use in film, television, and even in commercials. Sombre because of the frequent playing on the low strings of the violins, luminous because of the liquid harp arpeggios which lighten the mood throughout, the Adagietto is undoubtedly a love song -- and as certainly addressed to Mahler's wife, Alma. The soaring climaxes of the music make it easy to overlook the multiple changes of time signature in this piece, sometimes shifting from 3 to 5 to 2 to 4 and back to 3 beats in just a few bars. it gives the melody lines an appealing feeling of flexibility, of twin souls breathing.
The final fading note of the violins carries quietly over into the opening of the finale, a brisk, bright rondo where the orchestral textures are dominated by counterpoint, the interaction of melodic lines to create the musical texture, rather than writing the music by chords. The sudden stops and starts return, along with frequent changes of orchestration. The music's raucous character is emphasized by Mahler's oft-repeated direction that the horns, clarinets, and oboes should forcefully play with the bell of the instrument held up high -- thus creating a bright, glaring quality to the sound. While this technique is used in all his symphonies, it probably gets more use in the Fifth than in any of the others. The final movement eventually builds up an unstoppable head of speed. After a glorious, triumphant, chorale-like episode in D major dominated by the brass choir (briefly foreshadowed at the end of the second movement), the orchestra launches into a frantically celebratory coda, spinning faster and faster until, with one final pause on an unexpected note, a last downwards plunge ends the entire work on three emphatic chords.
Under the direction of Michael Francis, the orchestra gave this massive, complex work a performance which could stand comparison with any other I have heard. As examples of the sophistication of this reading, take the clear distinction between 3-note and 4-note figures in the string writing of the first movement, or the crisp staccato of the horns in the second. The gentle ebb and flow of the ländler tempo in the third movement found the whole ensemble speeding up and slowing down in virtually perfect unity. The Adagietto featured some beautifully underplayed portamento from the violins, a tricky effect to bring off without being glaringly obvious. In the finale, all the complex lines of the counterpoint came through crystal-clear, so that the alert listener could pick out any one line and follow it with no trouble.
All of this comes down, as much as anything, to the impressive balances achieved by Maestro Francis. Without careful attention to balance, it's all too easy to make any Mahler score deteriorate into noisy mush. I was particularly impressed because my seat, right under the elbows of the back desks of first violins, still allowed me to hear any and every aspect of the complex orchestration throughout the entire symphony.
Not the least impressive was the tremendous energy, zest, fire, which these players brought to the score. It's that immense passion for the music, more than any other single quality, which ideally fits this orchestra to tackle the passionate music of Mahler. This concert was memorable!
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