Festival of the Sound 2022 # 13: The Thunder Sounds Again

Friday brought just one performance at the Festival of the Sound, but it was one that brought the Festival to a powerful climax.

The Festival remounted its stunning 2018 premiere production of Sounding Thunder: The Song of Francis Pegahmagabow.

 

Francis Pegahmagabow is mainly renowned in non-native circles as the record-breaking sharpshooter sniper of the Canadian armed forces in World War One. In native communities, his significance is perhaps even greater as an early activist for native rights and equality, and a founder of the national native organizations which have growing influence over government policy today, and will have even more in the future.

 

As the struggle for truth and reconciliation continues, it's now evident indeed that Sounding Thunder is deeply relevant to that process, and will continue to be so, losing neither its power nor its timeliness.

Sounding Thunder is an impossible work to categorize. Musically and dramatically, it's neither opera nor musical theatre, although it draws somewhat from the latter tradition. Theatrically, it's not so much a play as a dramatization of vignettes from a man's life story -- yet it's much more than merely a documentary. The story unfolds like a ritual, and as in any ritual, there are ceremonial landmarks to highlight key points on the journey. And it is powerful, that power stretching far beyond my ability to tell it.

Was this performance the same as the original 2018 mounting of the production? No. For one thing, there was more use made of simple, stylized dramatization of moments that were previously only narrated. A good example was the scene, early in the production, where the Deer Woman Spirit offers to sacrifice herself so that Francis can feed his family. The simple staging culminated in an orchestrated pair of gunshots, and the actor portraying the Deer Woman Spirit (Jodi Baker Contin) flung up her hands and whirled around as if falling. I heard several audience members gasp.

I'm less sure on this point, but I think there was a more extensive use of both archival photos and art works as scene-setting projections on the large overhead screen.

 

Contin's performance in the central lament song had a raw power accentuated by her deep, rich voice, which brought tears to my eyes.

 

Keenan Keeshig in the role of Francis brought vivid visual sense to his momentary portrayals of key moments in the man's life, and his voice clearly projected all the emotions that Francis struggled to control and direct.

Brian D. McInnes, a great-grandson of Francis, gave again a clear and well-shaped reading of the principal narrations, which create the chain on which the episodes of the story are strung.

Larry Beckwith, also a veteran of the previous production, not only conducted the ensemble effectively but also brought a rich variety of shades of snottiness to his momentary portrayals of assorted military officers and Indian agents. 

 

The chamber orchestra of seven musicians all performed with skill and care in the uniquely crafted musical soundscape of composer Tim Corlis. Special mention here must go to percussionist Beverly Johnston, whose broad variety of sounds, including the evocative handpan, did so much to shape the overall atmosphere and impact of the score.

After the end of the performance, the three native performers (Contin, Keeshig, and McInnes) returned to the stage to host a Q & A session. I was grateful for the woman in the audience who asked about the creators of the native songs that bookended the entire show. Jodi Baker Contin herself wrote the first song, a song of thanks for the beauty of the land of Wasauksing on which the story occurs. Francis spent most of his life in Wasauksing, on what settlers call Parry Island, right across from Parry Sound.

And it was Contin who explained that the final song, the one in which all musicians and audience slowly join their voices together, is a traditional song of farewell for those who have left this life. Suddenly, that final moment, always emotional, took on even more resonance -- not only because of all who have lost their lives in the pandemic, but also for the lives of the children who died in the residential schools, a sad and shameful chapter of history which has been brought forcefully to light since 2018.

 

It was, therefore, with powerful and mixed emotions, that I and others not of native ancestry, accepted the invitation to linger outside after the performance, to accept a gift of tobacco, and to lay it on the ground with prayer and thought.

Festival of the Sound # 12: In Spain and Vienna

Thursday was another three-concert day at the Festival, and I'm sorry to say that my energy level ran out after the two afternoon concerts. What I missed was a multi-media performance with poetry of the two-piano version of The Planets by Gustav Holst. If I had to miss a concert, this was the one, since I have heard the work in piano reduction before and didn't enjoy it. Some pieces can be well-served by a skilled keyboard reduction but for me The Planets, with its extraordinarily imaginative orchestration, is not one of them.

That being said, the afternoon concerts brought ample delights and wonderful music making.

I:  Tapeo: The Sounds of Spain

Cameron Crozman delighted the audience with the third concert he curated, a wonderful analogy of music composed by Spanish artists, or composed in Spain, or inspired by Spain. That description covers a very broad range of possibilities indeed!

In his introductory remarks, Crozman gave us a good chuckle by explaining that "Tapeo" is the first-person singular of a very specifically Spanish verb -- it translates as  "I am going to eat tapas."

The concert involved a wide assortment of instrumental combinations out of a string quartet and two pianists. 

The first of Crozman's musical tapas was a delightful duet for cello and piano by Catalan cellist Gaspar Cassadó entitled Requiebros -- a word which means "compliments," but often with a strong subtext of "flirtations." It's a robust dance number and always great fun for the audience.

Next came Crozman's own arrangement for cello and piano of the famous Asturias (original title: Leyenda) by Isaac Albéniz. This work was originally written for solo piano, and in it the composer replicated the strumming of the guitar with an obsessively repeated pedal note D in the middle of the entwining melody. Guitarists immediately took it to their hearts because it's so easily transcribed for their instrument -- not surprisingly! Crozman's arrangement, for me, was a misfire. To be able to fit that D in, he had to resort to incessant high-speed crossing of the strings, and this both blurred out the sound of the pedal note and gave the music an undesirable frantic edge (ideally, the piece should sound a bit langorous -- easy on guitar, somewhat tougher on piano).

 

Next, we heard the Bergmann Duo in a group of works consisting of the two Spanish Dances from La vida breve by Manuel de Falla, the famous Malagueña by Cuban composer Ernesto Lecuona, and wrapping up with the brilliant and vivacious España by Emmanuel Chabrier. These works inspired by Spanish dance brought a wonderful lift and flair in the playing of both pianists.

Violinists Karl Stobbe and Emily Kruspe then took the stage with a delightful take on the Folies d'Espagne by French Baroque composer Jean-Pierre Guignon. This work joins the long, long list of works which used the Folies (a.k.a. La folia) bass as a foundation for variations -- a list which includes Vivaldi, Corelli, and Handel as only a few of the more famous names. After playing the theme complete to start, the two violinists traded increasingly complex variations on the simple tune and bass, with the bass line represented in each case by just a few notes sketched in here and there by one of the two. It's surprising how clearly you can pick up and "hear" the famous bass line of La folia when so few of the actual notes are being played! The entire set of variations was a complete joy to the ear.

 

Next we heard a String Trio in A Minor, Op. 14 No. 3 by Luigi Boccherini, an Italian composer who spent most of his adult years as composer and musician in the court of Spain. This trio was plainly court music of the same era as Haydn and showed no stylistic differences to speak of from the German or Austrian music of the same period -- perhaps because the Swiss-Austrian Habsburg family ruled in both areas. Like much of its creator's work, it makes for pleasant, easy listening, although not overtly Spanish in character (for that, you have to go to Boccherini's guitar quintets).

 

The concert wrapped up with the beautiful, evocative Oración del Torero, Op. 34 by Joaquin Turina, for string quartet. The title translates as The Bullfighter's Prayer, and the music is most definitely prayerful in character, without sounding especially church-like -- an interesting feature.

 

II:  Canadian Pianofest # 10:  Schubert and Mozart

 

 The second afternoon concert brought the tenth and last installment in this season's first part of the Canadian Pianofest (the series will continue next summer). Fittingly, then, this concert brought together two of the finest pianists we've heard: Janina Fialkowska (who curated the entire series) and Charles Richard-Hamelin. Before the concert, James Campbell (the Festival's Artistic Director) announced that this was the first occasion Janina Fialkowska had ever publicly played four hands or two pianos in her entire career. The event was certainly an auspicious debut, bringing together just two works: one of the great masterpieces for piano four hands with one of the great masterpieces for two pianos.

Franz Schubert's Fantasia in F Minor, D.940 opened the programme. It's all but a symphony for the piano, especially the final movement which, to me, cries out to be orchestrated. In four connected movements, lasting for about 20 minutes, the work moves through moods lyrical and agitated (first movement), turbulent and pastoral (second movement), lively and dancelike (third movement), before rounding off with a stern and powerful fugue, followed by a coda that ends quietly after one of the most remarkable cadences in all of music.

Fialkowska and Richard-Hamelin brought energy and poetry alike to this score, finding great power in the second movement's rigorous Largo and dancing the music away in the scherzo. The switches between power and inward reflection in the final pages rounded off a memorable performance, and the final cadence resounded in the memory.

After a short pause to rearrange the stage, the artists returned for Mozart's Sonata for Two Pianos in D Major, K.448. Unusually in my experience, the two pianos were here arranged facing the same way so that the two players were again seated side by side, but at different instruments.

This sonata was written by Mozart when he was 25, and the music retains a youthful energy and spring in its step, qualities which this performance shared in abundance. 

The allegro con spirito first movement was all of that: quick of foot, full of spirit, an exemplary burst of galant style, and an absolute joy to the listener. The andante second movement flowed easily and with great charm. The molto allegro final movement flew by in a whirl of rapid passagework and high spirits, with playing both accomplished and stylish from both artists.

I don't know if Fialkowska's plans for next year include such an idea, but I would be more than happy to hear another joint recital from these two wonderful pianists any time they choose to give one!

Festival of the Sound 2022 # 11: Pianos Galore

 

Wednesday at the Festival brought an intense round of three concerts, each of which featured the piano either totally, or in a fair degree. As a friend of mine who is not a pianist dryly observed, "By the end of the day, I will be all pianoed out." For those of us who are piano enthusiasts, it was a spectacular day.

I:  Canadian Pianofest # 8:  The Bergmann Piano Duo in Recital

Piano duo ensembles are definitely exotic fish in the musical world. To play a piece well, either on two pianos or four hands on one piano, requires a degree of mutual trust verging on insanity, combined with a willingness to take hair-raising chances and hope like mad that your duet partner agrees -- and picks up on -- with that little accelerando that you suddenly felt was appropriate. An added hazard in four-hand playing: colliding fingers and fingernails are de rigeur. Voice of experience.

 

Seriously, though, I can't think of any other form of music making that forces two musicians into such close physical proximity, nor of any other form in which mutual give and take between the musicians becomes so critical to the success of the performance.

 

An amusing side note: when playing on two pianos, the Bergmanns use the "married position" which, ironically for the name, places the two players a piano's length apart and facing each other by fitting the two instruments as closely together as possible, with the curved cases wrapping around each other.

 

The Bergmanns have been playing together as a married couple for many years, and like to assemble one of their typical programmes out of a very eclectic repertoire of original works and arrangements, ranging from the Baroque period right up into the twentieth century. 

 

This recital began with an arrangement of a Bach aria from the cantata Vergnügte Ruh. It's one of the master's lovely, lyrical melodies, but the arrangement for 2 pianos inevitably involved doubling and extra voices, leading to a much more congested sound -- somewhat reminiscent of Stokowski's Wagnerian Bach transcriptions for full orchestra.

 

The centrepiece of the recital consisted of movements 2-3-4 from Rachmaninoff's Suite No.1 in G Minor, Op. 5, "Fantaisie-Tableaux." It was a little difficult to enjoy this wonderful music as the Bergmanns were treating each dynamic indication as specific to their personal instrument, leading to a loud, clangorous sound which was hard on the ears. The intense energy of the performance was admirable, to be sure, but more restraint would give much better results. Many interpreters will treat the dynamic marks as relating to the music as a whole. Such an approach would yield far more sense of fantasy in La nuit... l'amour and Les larmes, as well as allowing a much greater contrast when the pianists appropriately cut loose in the final Pâques with its endless cascades of bell sounds.

Far more rewarding were the selections from Astor Piazzolla, Chick Corea, Pat Metheny, and Egberto Gismonti, which wrapped up the recital. Much as I hate to keep sounding negative, surely there must be other worthwhile and interesting pieces from Piazzolla than the ubiquitous (and now tedious) Oblivion and Libertango. I've heard so many arrangements of those two pieces from so many performers that I'm beginning to think of Piazzolla as a two-hit wonder, and I'm sure that's an unfair assessment.

II:  Originals

A second programme curated by Cameron Crozman consisted entirely of works composed by Festival artists. In all, four composers were represented, and the diversity of their efforts yielded fascinating results.

The first work was a two-movement piano quintet by Graham Campbell, the two movements being respectively entitled Between Breaths and Snow Rider. In fact, it was entirely possible to enjoy this melodious, mellifluous music without knowing the titles. Unusually among contemporary composers, Campbell doesn't shrink in holy horror from either clear rhythmic patterns or identifiable melodic lines, and his music is all the stronger for that than works from the Momentary Effects School of composition.

I was especially intrigued by the number of times that this or that harmonic progression took me for a few seconds back to the France of Debussy and Fauré

Marcel Bergmann contributed three works in all: Run Around, with violinist Karl Stobbe, Blue Autumn with cellist Cameron Crozman, and two movements from Urban Pulse with spouse and duet partner Elizabeth Bergmann. All three works featured ever denser keyboard writing, while still allowing the string soloists to be heard. In Urban Pulse, the densely dissonant writing for two pianos turned into a mass of sound from which only occasional melodic fragments emerged briefly.

Cameron Crozman presented his first composition, a cello solo called Falling Forward. The fragmentary nature of this music somewhat concealed the technical challenges of trying to wring many different kinds of melodic sound out of a cello without resorting to the "standard" full bow on the string technique. This piece intrigued mainly as a survey of those technical possibilities.

 

Finally, Ryan Davis gave three works in solo viola performances. The first was simply Davis and the viola. In the other two, he made use of the live looping technique to lay down multiple instrumental, percussion, even vocal tracks, before getting into his main live performance of the piece in question. 

 

Unlike the performance last week by FreePlay, Davis had all his technical equipment right on stage with him so we could watch him creating each track as he went along, drumming on a percussion pad, creating special sounds on his instrument, and so on. From a technical viewpoint, it was fascinating to get such a behind-the-scenes view of the artist at work. Musically, I enjoyed the strong rhythmic sense that pervaded Davis' music, even at moments when a percussion track wasn't playing. I also appreciated the odd and yet somehow intriguing sound combinations that he created.

 

 

III:  Canadian Pianofest # 9:  Charles Richard-Hamelin in Recital

 

For the third time in the Festivaal, we sat down to a performance by a pianist who truly ranks as one of Canada's greatest exponents of the instrument today.

Charles Richard-Hamelin emerged from obscurity to win the second prize at the Chopin International Competition in Warsaw in 2018, and his career since then on the world's stages has gone from strength to strength.

For this recital, Richard-Hamelin explained to the audience that, since each work led naturally into the next, he requested that applause be held until the end of each half of the programme.

 

The first half consisted of Two Nocturnes by Chopin, Op. 27 No. 1 in C sharp minor and Op. 27 No. 2 in D flat major -- a fascinating contrast of two impossibly near yet distant keys.

 

From the D flat piece, Richard-Hamelin moved smoothly onwards into the opening movement of the Piano Sonata No. 2 in B flat minor, Op. 35. His performance, which included the full exposition repeat, was notable for finding more light and shade in this movement than many artists. 

 

The scherzo was both fiery and precise in staccato, with maximum contrast as a result in the sweeping lyrical line of the trio. The final short-cut reminiscence of the trio at the end was a quiet moment of nostalgic reflection.

The massive chords of the famous funeral march were beautifully shaped to avoid mere thunderous noise, and allow inner voices to emerge. The pastoral contrasting section in the midst of the march emerged as a moment of peaceful freedom from turmoil.

Speaking of turmoil, the extraordinarily athematic and almost atonal finale flew by in a whirlwind of excited disconnection, a most remarkable anticipation of the musical world a century later.

In the second half of the recital, Richard-Hamelin turned to Maurice Ravel. He opened with the famous Pavane pour une infante defunte, followed by a brief Prelude which was among the composer's first attempts at writing music.

These two pieces led in the most natural way into the six-movement suite, Le tombeau de Couperin. The name signifies perhaps a tomb, although in this context it would be better to call it a "memorial." The tradition of the tombeau or memorial commemorative piece stretches as far back in French music as François Couperin himself.

The six movements were separately dedicated to six friends of Ravel who were killed in the First World War. If you didn't know that fact, you would never guess that association by listening to the music which is filled with light, life, and energy, all expressed with airy neoclassical clarity.

 

For those familiar only with Ravel's later orchestrated version, the original piano work takes the movements in a different order and includes two movements (Fugue and Toccata) which he omitted from the orchestration because they are so quintessentially pianistic in style.

Richard-Hamelin brought his signature lightness of touch on the keys to a piece which, more than any other, absolutely demands such skill. Right from the opening notes of the Prelude, it was clear that a master was at work here. The lovely dance rhythms and melodies of the Forlane, Rigaudon, and Menuet were an especial delight, while the rapid technical passagework of the Fugue and Toccata for once sounded like something much more than mere note-spinning.

A truly remarkable conclusion to a rewarding and involving recital.

Festival of the Sound 2022 # 10: Another Full Day

Tuesday was another full day at the Festival, with no less than three events. So, without further ado.... 

 

I:  Canadian Pianofest # 7:  Brahms and Dvořák

These two composers make a natural pair in recital, partly because of their near-identical lifetimes, partly because of the way in which Brahms, already well-known, promoted the music of Dvořák, and partly because of a good measure of stylistic similarity.

The concert opened with a late work by Brahms, the Sonata for Clarinet and Piano No. 1 in F Minor, Op. 120. As with some other late works of this master, the music can seem enigmatic to the unwary, especially so in the first two movements. The third and fourth movements, Allegretto grazioso and Vivace are much more straightforward and easily grasped at a first hearing, as well as displaying a strong sense of good spirits verging on out-and-out playfulness, which one does not often associate with Brahms. 

 

The Sonata was beautifully played with much subtlety by clarinetist and Artistic Director James Campbell and pianist Charles Richard-Hamelin. Occasionally, the piano managed to swamp the clarinet for a few seconds at a time -- a natural hazard of almost all Brahms chamber music for piano and solo instrument. Overall, Richard-Hamelin displayed great but not total awareness of this hazard. A rewarding performance of a work not often heard in many circles.

Dvořák's Piano Quartet No. 2 in E-Flat Major, Op. 87, made a fine partner for the Brahms. There's one curious feature of this work which I've often noticed, and at least one other musician in the audience shared my feelings here. The first movement, Allegro con fuoco, somehow always sounds like a finale! In part this arises from the fiery character of the main theme, but also a culprit is the end of the movement, in which Dvořák drops into a quiet, slow meditation of a kind found in the last bars of many of his later works.

The ensemble of Karl Stobbe (violin), Ryan Davis (viola), and Cameron Crozman (cello) together with Richard-Hamelin, gave the first "last" movement a rousing performance which emphasized the seeming finality of the last emphatic chords. No wonder some of the audience tried to applaud! The rest of the quartet unfolded with great character and individuality, among a flow of memorable melodic ideas which were one of the great specialties of this master. Particularly noteworthy was the clear articulation from all four players of the sweet little trilling theme in the third movement. The last (really the last) movement then followed in a powerhouse performance of considerable energy and force.

II:  Canadian Pianofest # 1:  Janina Fialkowska in Recital

No, that title isn't a misprint. Following on her sold-out performance last week, Janina Fialkowska graciously agreed to repeat the entire programme for a second audience. The only difference was that, on this occasion, she played the entire hour-long recital, including her encore, in one whole set without leaving the stage. I have no further comments to add about her magnificent playing after hearing the recital again, so here's the link backwards to my review of the original performance.

Routine But Never Routine

 

 

III:  The Elora Singers

 

The second choral concert of the Festival played to a sold-out hall on Tuesday night, with the chamber choir from the Elora Festival, under their Artistic Director, Mark Vuorinen, in a programme entitled "Baltic Twilight: Music From the Heart of Europe."

 

This programme almost entirely avoided the familiar. Many of the composers were not previously known to me, and the music as a whole was almost all unknown. 

Many of the modern choral works on offer remained firmly grounded in the "beautiful shimmering sounds" school of choral writing, so common today, in which the text often remains undistinguishable in a welter of lovely but complex choral tone. Nor is this solely an issue of language, although some texts were sung in the original languages set by the composers.

A striking exception was an intriguing work by Arvo Pärt, Which Was The Son, in which the composer set the entire lengthy passage of St. Luke's Gospel giving the complete genealogy of Jesus of Nazareth, all the way back to Adam. This piece adopted a striking variety of choral styles, shifting in clearly-delineated sections from one style to another while setting the text whose unvarying pattern contrasted sharply -- yet remained at all times clearly audible.

Another striking contrast came with two successive settings of If Ye Love Me, the first a sixteenth-century motet by Thomas Tallis, and the second a contemporary work inspired by that motet, composed by Frank Ferko. The cool serenity of Tallis, and the utter clarity of his word-setting, was notable in a field where a number of composers set those qualities at lower value.

For the final three works on the programme, the duo pianists Elizabeth and Marcel Bergmann took turns on the keyboard to accompany the choir. These pieces included Craig Hella Johnson's striking arrangement of What a Wonderful World and All of Us, a good marker for the overall character of the final set. 

Across the whole evening, the 24 singers of the choir -- many of whom took solo parts in one number or other -- created a flow of beautiful choral tone with fine balance and blend, while Vuorinen's clear, understated direction kept all the varied styles of music moving accurately along, as far as I could judge. A memorable evening. 

Festival of the Sound 2022 # 9: And Now For Something Completely Different

It was already a well-established tradition when I arrived at the Festival for the first time in a year which I'm pretty sure was 1994. During the weeks when the Festival is running, the Monday evenings see the Festival chartering the Island Queen V sightseeing cruise vessel for a musical cruise around the waterways of Parry Sound.

Over the years, these informal cruise concerts have ranged from classical to Celtic, from a cappella to jazz, from folk to blues to G&S to big band to... well, you get the idea. On a typical cruise, the musicians will play either two or three sets, depending on the length of the trip. The vessel's canteen on the lowest deck is open during the trip with hot dogs, pizza, packaged snacks, coffee, tea and more, and a bar on the middle deck serves wine, beer, and pre-mixed cocktails.

The performing space is at the front end of the largest indoor space on the lowest deck. The second deck has more indoor space, but also an outdoor seating area at the stern. The top deck is all outdoors. Both the second and third decks have outdoor viewing areas at the front end, overlooking the bow. Both of the upper decks also have excellent speaker systems so that everyone can hear the performances.

The routes have varied a bit over the years, but now the normal voyage takes you on a two-hour tour of the waterways and island channels along the north side of Parry Sound. . The ship returns to the dock in town at 8:00 pm on the regular Festival cruises. 

On Canada Day, there's a 7:00 pm "pre-Festival cruise" which lasts for three hours and goes right out to the edge of the outer islands where larger forested islands give way to the hundreds of islets and rock outcroppings that justify the name, "Thirty Thousand Islands." A highlight of the Canada Day cruise is the spectacular sunset you will likely see around this area of the trip. With the longer voyage comes more music, usually three sets. On Canada Day, the return to town is timed for the Island Queen V to lead the traditional parade of boats dressed in festive lights, before coming to a halt out in the harbour at a prime location to view a spectacular fireworks show. The vessel then returns to the dock at about 10:30pm. I was really sorry to miss the Canada Day event this year.

 

On this trip, we were treated to blues from a group called Jackson Delta. As the name of the band suggests, they gave us a down-south, down-home brand of blues, with a country-folk vibe, all set to the distinct sounds of  harmonica and washboard with a great lively beat. Just the thing for a sunny summer evening on the water!

There's one more cruise left in this year's shortened season, by the way -- next Sunday (not Monday) as Sunday, August 1 is the final day of the Festival. It's a jazz cruise with the Dave Young Quartet and the Island Queen V sails from the Town Dock at 6:00 pm sharp. See you there?

 

Festival of the Sound 2022 # 8: Opera Hidden and Forbidden

Of all the events that feature in every year's Festival of the Sound, the annual Opera Gala is the one that is hardest to replicate. You can certainly put on a fine recording at home of any of the chamber works produced at the Festival, but the Opera Gala is another matter altogether. 

 

The special chemistry of this event depends absolutely on the mix of personalities involved -- starting right away with the moving spirit of the whole evening, soprano Leslie Fagan. Right next to her you have to place pianist Guy Few, because the ready repartee and hilarious comic timing between Fagan and Few provides the energy that drives the entire show. Then add in mezzo-soprano Krisztina Szabo, tenor Colin Ainsworth, and baritone Samuel Chan -- all of whom fall in with the comic shtick with a will -- and the stage is set for comic mayhem and exquisite music, ham acting and dramatic intensity, fast-paced one-liners and intricate coloratura, all in perfect proportions.

 

This year, the pandemic experience of the last two summers has led naturally to the idea of the Gala being promoted as a "masked ball" of sorts. Just knowing that ahead of time led me to speculate about which operas would yield selections that fitted most readily into that theme -- Verdi's Un ballo in maschera and Johann Strauss Jr.'s Die Fledermaus being the most obvious ones. At the same time, I couldn't help wondering if the artists would also opt for Nielsen's relatively little-known (but delightful) Maskarade.

 

As it turned out, only Die Fledermaus made the cut, with the wonderful Champagne Quartet standing as the perfect grand finale of the evening. Before that, though, we had heard familiar and less-familiar selections from Handel, Mozart, Rossini, Verdi, Gounod, Puccini, and Offenbach.

Although the mask idea was suggested in the advance publicity, and some audience members went for it with a will, the title was actually explained as referring to the naughty secrets and deceptions that are part and parcel of just about every plot in the entire galaxy of thousands of operas over hundreds of years.

I could write nearly a book about the background of every number, but I'll confine detailed remarks to just a few highlights of an evening in which every performance was, at the very least, excellent.

Mozart was the most generously represented composer, and I for one didn't mind at all. It was in the excerpts from Don Giovanni that baritone Samuel Chan made his mark as the rakish reprobate Don, with his singing in Deh, vieni alla finestra and La ci darem la mano equally delightful and suggestive. Deh, vieni also brought a splendid turn from pianist, Guy Few, making a most convincing mandolin-like effect on the piano with feather-light touch and articulation of the notes.

 

Chan then brought a tear to my eyes with the beautiful hopeless love aria Questo amor, vergogna mia from Puccini's all-but-forgotten Edgar.

Rossini's Contro un cor che accende amore from The Barber of Seville gave a splendid opportunity for mezzo-soprano Krisztina Szabo to display her skills, both vocally, with Rossini's vivid coloratura writing, and dramatically, with the quick-fire switches from knowing looks to innocent maiden modesty. She was also splendid in Puccini's Quando m'en vo from La bohème, a number punctuated by amusing comedic byplay from the other three at the café table.

Among his several wonderful performances through the evening, tenor Colin Ainsworth swept all before him with his ardent singing in Ange adorable from Gounod's Roméo et Juliette.

Although soprano Leslie Fagan gave a splendidly ornamented performance of Tornami a vagheggiar from Handel's epic Alcina, she completely brought the house down with her singing and acting in Les oiseaux dans la charmille from Offenbach's Les contes d'Hoffman. This aria demands a bit of explanation. In one act of the opera, the leading soprano plays the role of Olympia, a mechanical doll created by the inventors Coppélius and Spalanzani. In singing her aria, Fagan adopted automaton-like gestures and facial expressions most believably, and drew laughs with the fading falling scale as Olympia runs down and falls silent. At this point, the other singers rushed onto the stage in a panic while Few finally wound her up again with the mechanical key in her back.

 

From there, the only possible place the performance could go was to the Champagne Quartet, and this brought the show to a fizzing conclusion, with the audience shouting their appreciation for the vastly entertaining programme.

 

After the concert concluded, the artists came out to the lobby (a normal Festival tradition in Parry Sound), but this time for the express purpose of having their picture taken with the enthusiastic audience members who had appeared in evening wear and elaborate masks for the occasion.

Echo Chamber Toronto at Toronto Summer Music

On Thursday night, I interrupted my series at the Festival of the Sound to go to Toronto and view the latest production from Echo Chamber Toronto, a production which raised the bar yet again for this daring and unusual artistic venture, in which dancers and musicians exist and work in the same space, and interact with each other throughout the performance. This performance took place at the Isabel Bader Theatre in Victoria University, University of Toronto, as part of the Toronto Summer Music festival.

 

As usual, Echo Chamber's Artistic Director, Aaron Schwebel, has turned to a choreographer and dancers who are new to the Echo Chamber audience -- with startling and exciting results.

 

The dance aspect of the production was entrusted to veteran choreographer and multi-faceted theatre artist William Yong, and three dancers from his Zata Omm contemporary dance company: Anisa Tejpar, Jarrett Siddall. and Christian Lavigne.

 

The two works choreographed by Yong together amounted to some fifty minutes of intense dance from the three dance artists. As well, Yong was responsible for the complex and stunning lighting plot which greatly enhanced the emotional and visual impact of the performance. It's the first time I've seen Echo Chamber mount a show in a properly-equipped theatre, and the results were definitely worth the effort, in spades.

The other aspect which was new to Echo Chamber in this show, entitled Poetry in Motion, was the reading of the poetry which inspired or was relevant to each piece, as part of the performance. Readings were done by musicians before each musical selection.

The programme opened with the freely rhapsodic The Lake Ascending, by Ralph Vaughan Williams, in the original version for solo violin and piano. The soaring lines and cadenzas of this piece, which represent now the movement, now the song, of the lark, found a clear counterpart in the circular movements and continual reaching upwards towards the sky of the dancers, as they moved about the stage, circling around the violinist who was himself moving about the space. With the final quiet notes, they settled back into their original positions on the ground, as if resting for the morrow's flying. The music was beautifully and evocatively shaped by violinist Aaron Schwebel and pianist Philip Chiu.

 

The next three selections from the French repertoire were each prefaced by the proper poetry, but not danced. It greatly pleased me that the French poetry was spoken in the original, a wise choice since poetic French has a distinctive music all its own -- and an English translation would only have sounded brutally flat-footed by comparison.

The famous Clair de lune and La fille aux cheveux de lin by Debussy framed the mélodie Après un rêve by Fauré. All were beautifully played, with Chiu's very subtle pianississimo in Clair de lune a delight to the ears.

The major offering was the complete string sextet Verklärte Nacht, Op. 4 by Arnold Schoenberg, played with great passion and the widest range of tone colour by violins Aaron Schwebel and Sheila Jaffé, violas Keith Hamm and Rémi Pelletier, and cellos Leana Rutt and Julie Hereish. A bit of history, here: this work was previously staged by Echo Chamber in 2018, but with a different choreographer and different dancers. The 2018 version, while it remained somewhat abstract in tone, leaned towards a staged representation of the story in the inspiring poem by Richard Dehmel.

In this performance, Yong and his dancers worked towards an unveiling of the complex emotional currents rushing through the characters of the story. The musical work can be analyzed as having distinct sections which correspond to the sections of the poem, but this interpretation made no attempt to confine the different emotional visions to only one portion of the piece.

 

The musicians were seated in a broadly-spaced semi-circle which gave the dancers room to move around and between, as well as passing in front of and behind the strings.

One aspect which Yong's choreography uncovered for me was the strong tone of regret that suffuses the entire poem and indeed the music. Even when the tale moves towards emotional fulfilment at the end, the dancers continue to imply in their movements the "what ifs," the loose ends which are so intensely human, avoiding the unreal certainties of "they all lived happily ever after."

Powerful and emotionally penetrating, this interpretation of Verklärte Nacht couldn't possibly be more different from its predecessor of four years ago, yet both remain vibrantly compelling transfigurations of the music into dance. Which one was "better"? An unanswerable question -- although I found both versions to be visually and thoughtfully compelling.

 

Poetry in Motion through the length and scale of the performance, the quality of the staging and lighting, and the total amount of choreography created for it, has moved Echo Chamber Toronto to a new high level of artistic achievement. I'll be looking forward to more at the next staging of an Echo Chamber show.

 

 

Festival of the Sound 2022 # 7: Vocal Fun and Games

With the arrival of Saturday, things calm down a bit at the Festival with only one event for each of Saturday, Sunday, and Monday.

Exultant A Cappella With Freeplay

Inside the Stockey Centre, the energy level ramped up several hundred percent with the high-stakes live show presented by the duo FreePlay. It's an intriguing name for a duo that presents an entire evening of what can only be described as "accompanied a cappella music" in more styles than you can shake a stick at.

"Accompanied" a cappella? Yes, it sounds like a total oxymoron -- but it isn't. Dylan Bell and Suba Sankaran create the most intricate accompaniments for their songs by imitating instrumental sounds with their voices, using a computer to capture the sounds and repeat them in a technique known as "live looping." In some numbers, the duo laid down as many as three or four "accompaniment" tracks and/or vocal tracks in this way before beginning the actual song. All these tracks were laid down seamlessly, with no pauses or stop-starts, and all created live, in real time, right before our eyes. Ears. You get the meaning.

 

Of course, this live looping technique requires songs with a regular repeating pattern to them, but there's no shortage of such songs in the world's pop culture realms. FreePlay accordingly took us on a musical tour of the world, with English, American, Brazilian, Latin, Canadian, Bollywood, even classical European all represented. With a repertoire like that, the instrumental and vocal sounds alike had to cover an incredibly broad and diverse range. For these incredibly diverse and imaginative artists, no problem. 

 

It's hard to single out favourites in such a broad range of styles, but I found some numbers especially engaging -- Rockin' Robin, What's Going On, Sweet City Woman, Anitra's Dance, and River to name a few.

Judging by the enthusiastic applause, I wasn't the only person who found this entire show to be entertaining, indeed captivating. I'd be glad to hear FreePlay in live performance again any time!

 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *  

A footnote about the diversity of these artists: I've encountered their work before, in a context that could only be called -- to put it mildly -- wildly different. Here's a link to a review I published of a streamed concert in October 2020 which was curated by Sankaran and included music performed by her, and music composed by Bell. At the end of the review there is a link to the free concert video, which is still available to view.

Songs of Thanksgiving

 

 

 

Festival of the Sound 2022 # 6: Musical Joys and Thrills

Although Friday brought only two performances at the Festival, the day was filled to overflowing with musical riches.

 

I:  The Magic of Flute and Harp

The afternoon's concert was moved to St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church, and the lack of air-conditioning brought back memories of long-ago Festival concerts in "Festival Hall" (the euphemism for the high school gymnasium).

The move was an intentional one, allowing the beautiful sounds of the flute and harp duo of Suzanne Shulman and Erica Goodman to profit from the rich resonance of the church's eight-sided domed roof.

 

The major work on this recital was the world premiere of The Rings by noted Scottish composer Eric Robertson, with accompanying thematic poetry by Gary Michael Dault. This eight-movement suite was composed especially for Shulman and Goodman.

 

The poetry, which was published in the programme (eight short poems of no more than half a dozen lines each), comments on the symbolism of wedding rings at different times in the life of a couple.

 

The sometimes bardic, sometimes folklike sounds of Robertson's unique score were well served not only by the artistry of the musicians but also by the warm acoustic environment of the church. The bouncing flute lines in the opening movement, with its "scotch snap" rhythms set the stage for an enchanting work. Equally delightful were the cascading roulades of bells in the final movement, inspired by the traditional are of "ringing the changes" in a church equipped with multiple bells. Shulman and Goodman plainly enjoyed the experience of sharing this very attractive music with us.

 

Extreme contrast came immediately after with the cutting edge sounds of Narthex by Bernard Andrès, a work composed specifically for this combination of instruments in the 1970s. Here, as well as more "traditional" (?) techniques, we were treated to Shulman converting the extra head joint of a flute into a slide whistle, while Goodman tapped, scraped, and rattled the strings and sound box of her instrument with what appeared to be a tuning key. The piece, though, is not a mere curiosity or aimed only at shock value, and the artists made out a good case for it in a clear and thoughtful performance.

The rest of the programme consisted of better-known works: the Entr'acte by Jacques Ibert, the Pièce en forme de Habanera and Pavane pour une infante défunte by Maurice Ravel, and the Bordel 1900 movement from Astor Piazzolla's Histoire du tango. All were delightfully played, and the audience clearly loved them. Shulman recalled that Ravel gave the Pavane it's name solely because he like the combination of sounds in the words "infante défunte," and had wittily remarked that it was a Pavane for a Dead Princess and not a Dead Pavane for a Princess!

As an encore, Shulman and Goodman again played one of the movements of The Rings, and Shulman ended the recital on a touching note by blowing a kiss to her husband of over 50 years.

II:  Canadian Pianofest # 6:  National Academy Orchestra of Canada with David Jalbert

The Friday evening concert was in part a sombre one as we all recalled and remembered the late conductor, Boris Brott, founder of the National Academy Orchestra. The Orchestra was conducted on this occasion by Uri Mayer.

The programme opened with a late addition: Cradle Song by Boris Brott's father, Alexander Brott. This was a beautiful and heartfelt tone poem, opening a closing very quietly on a mere thread of sound from a solo violin, and passing through episodes of greater intensity.

The evening then moved directly on to the Piano Concerto # 5 in E-Flat Major, Op. 73 by Beethoven. This concerto has long been subtitled "the Emperor Concerto" in the English-speaking world, but that title certainly wasn't Beethoven's. I've always felt that the work's special quality is more Olympian than imperial, but it seems we're stuck with the name -- there's no tradition so stubborn as a bad tradition.

 

Soloist David Jalbert gave a memorable performance of the solo part, surpassing all of Beethoven's technical difficulties with apparent ease and power to spare. The lightness of touch that he brought to certain key moments in the first movement (the cascades of octaves in the development and the three quiet rising scales that landmark the key moments of the structure) was as delightful as his power in the bigger moments was impressive. With fine singing tone in the slow movement and a rollicking, rapid account of the finale, this was a Beethoven performance to remember.

Mayer led the orchestra with with a certainty of touch that brought out the best in the musicians, and there were many fine details that emerged beautifully -- especially in the wind parts -- that often go missing when the soloist is more heavy-handed.

After a short intermission, the concert concluded with the Variations on an Original Theme "Enigma", Op. 36 by Edward Elgar.

Elgar is a composer who often seems to have trouble making headway outside of England, but even listeners who think they "can't stand English music" should pay close attention to this work, which quickly received wide acclaim among many major musicians and composers in Europe when it was premiered.

The title refers to, in fact, two "enigmas." The first and easier one is the meaning of the names on each of the movements, since Elgar prefaced the score with this line, "Dedicated to my friends pictured therein."

The other is rather tougher. He said that the original theme could in fact "go perfectly" with another very well-known tune. To this day, no one can say for certain what that tune might be, although there have been no shortage of suggestions.

The orchestra under Mayer gave an excellent performance of this unique and intriguing music. Among the excellent touches were the swelling climax of C.A.E. (the composer's wife), the fierce slam at the end of Troyte, the gently hesitating winds in Dorabella, the barking bulldog in G.R.S., and the quiet timpani roll with snare-drum sticks in * * *, meant to evoke the sound of an ocean liner's engines. The grand finale of the work, E.D.U. (a self-portrait), was worked up to a splendid climax, with Mayer handling the accelerations and sudden stop-starts of the movement admirably.

Central to the whole performance, of course, was the noble beauty of Variation IX, Nimrod, announced beforehand as a tribute to the memory of Boris Brott, and appropriately followed by a brief pause.

 

The multiple little solo parts and moments scattered throughout the score gave ample chances for the leading members of the orchestra, and all did splendid work. 

 

I think Boris Brott would have been proud of the work of the orchestra which he founded throughout this entire evening.

 

Festival of the Sound 2022 # 5: Short Day Cut Shorter

 Day 5 of the Festival turned out to be the shortest day ever. First, the evening concert with Stewart Goodyear had to be cancelled.  I would have missed it anyway because of a quick side trip to Toronto. Then, the afternoon concert was slow getting started and I had to slip out of that one half way through.

So, here's my review of the one and only piece I heard.

 

I:  Canadian Pianofest # 4 -- Beethoven Concerto No.4

The afternoon concert began with Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 4 in G major, Op. 58, again in a chamber reduction for string quintet. I have to say up front that I found this procedure less defensible here than in the case of Chopin, for two reason: Chopin's work was published with the "or piano and strings" tag on the score, and the orchestral part in Chopin's case is both less significant and less well arranged than in Beethoven. 

 

However, if we're going to have chamber versions of well-known concerti, there's certainly less harm done by using this one than, say, the majestic fifth ("Emperor") concerto or either of the piano concerti of Brahms (God forbid!).

The beauties of Beethoven's fourth concerto are too well-known to require any comment from me, other than to say that it is my own personal favourite of the five. Janina Fialkowska sailed serenely into the opening solo phrase, but that proved to be a curtain-raiser to a performance which lacked for nothing in drama, colour, and tonal variety. 

 

Certainly, the first movement grew out of that opening into a finely detailed reading with a great deal of power. In the smaller space of the Stockey Centre, and with the smaller ensemble, I registered many fascinating details which might go unnoticed in a larger hall with a full orchestra. At the end of the movement, Fialkowska used a lengthy cadenza which was not familiar to me. I wonder whose hand set this down? Perhaps it was Fialkowska herself; many artists have composed their own cadenzas for this concerto. As it was, I felt it was altogether too much of a good thing and came perilously close to overshadowing the entire remainder of the movement (a purely subjective reaction, I hasten to add).

 

The dramatic exchanges of the slow movement were not impaired at all by having a much smaller body of string tone, as the quintet (the Rolston Quartet and Joel Quarrington) played with notable bite and precision, more clipped and staccato than one often hears from a large orchestra. Fialkowska's piano interpolations were appropriately gentle in a smooth legato.

 

The lively finale followed on, bursting with energy from start to finish. Fialkowska's gripping performance of the solo part reached an appropriate climax in the final brief cadenza and the rousing coda which follows on.

 

Canadian Pianofest # 5:  

 

Cancelled.  

Festival of the Sound 2022 # 4: Veterans and Rising Stars

Day 4 of the Festival promptly blew past the limits of the "routine" which I explained yesterday by including no less than four major events.

 

I:  Janina Fialkowska Master Class

The day began at 10:30 am with a unique master class experience. In a true example of "passing the torch," the veteran Chopin pianist Janina Fialkowska led a master class with rising star Bruce Liu, the Canadian pianist who recently shot into prominence on the world's musical scene by winning first place in the 18th Chopin International Piano Competition in Warsaw.

The music under consideration was the chamber version of Chopin's Piano Concerto No. 2 in F Minor, Op. 21, with Quatuor Despax and double bass Joel Quarrington performing the string reduction of the orchestral parts. 

Since Liu is preparing for performances with full orchestra in Europe, the time was certainly ripe for Fialkowska to assist him by sharing a lifetime of experience of the trouble spots which can arise in a performance with a conductor and full orchestra.

Helpful hints about how to cope with those tricky places formed a good portion of the wisdom passed along by Fialkowksa. She also offered a concept which I'd never heard articulated, the idea that there is too much sameness in always using the rubato prior to the first beat of the next bar. Fialkowka plainly stated the value of maintaining the element of surprise so the listener isn't always able to anticipate the next use of the rubato before the pianist gets to it.

 

She also praised Liu's lightness of tone, indicating that this is a rare quality indeed.

 

And who could forget that wonderful moment, as they worked through the mazurka finale, when she urged Liu that he had to "find your Polish soul."

The string players displayed considerable good humour on becoming the tail getting wagged by the dog for an hour, a role which the orchestra in any case has to maintain when playing Chopin's concertos. Fialkowska also raised a good laugh from the audience on warning Liu that the horn player will never play the little unaccompanied fanfare in the finale properly, but the pianist must never, ever laugh at the horn. Then the performance restarted, violist Maxime Despax promptly played the fanfare accurately and on cue, and Fialkowska jokingly added: "You will never hear the horn part played better than that!"

 

II:  Canadian Pianofest # 2 -- David Jalbert in Recital

At 1:30 pm the second concert of the day was a piano recital by David Jalbert, an artist who was acclaimed by the CBC as one of the greatest Canadian pianists of all time. I'm sure that there are many fine artists whose names could fittingly appear on such a list, but there's no denying that Jalbert's recital was replete with power, skill, and subtlety -- if not precisely the most rewarding programme for my own personal taste.

The concert opened with Kelly-Marie Murphy's Smoke Darkened Sky, a work which she composed for Jalbert in 2021. It was inspired by descriptions and images of the terrible clouds of smoke over all the funeral fires in India during the first wave of the pandemic. A Canadian composer of high reputation, Murphy often composes music of brilliantly illustrative inventiveness. In this case, the visual image didn't register from the music, although the intensity, anger, and (in the final pages) the otherworldliness of the sounds was unmistakable.

Then followed the Piano Sonata No. 30 in E Major, Op. 109 by Beethoven. This is the first of the final three monumental sonatas, and a frequent choice of many pianists. Particularly attractive here was Jalbert's adoption of a lighter range of tone, showing that late Beethoven, for all its power, is still the work of the same man who admired Haydn and Mozart in his young years. My reaction was that this intense sonata developed a good deal more light and shade with this variety of tone, compared to the more portentous effect when a pianist leans right into the keys throughout.

Jalbert next played two of Debussy's Images (not to be confused with the entirely different Images pour orchestre!). The bell sounds in Cloches à travers les feuilles were not overt, but nonetheless clear enough to the ear amid the rustling of leaves. Poissons d'or contrasted nicely the fast and slow textures which alternated through the piece.

The grand finale was Prokofiev's fierce and percussive Sonata No. 7 in B-Flat Major, Op. 83, the second of his three "war sonatas." Wartime it unmistakably was in Jalbert's powerhouse performance, and there's no denying that the score absolutely cries out for such treatment. Jalbert worked up the finale to an incredibly fierce peroration that pulled the audience right out of their seats. All very impressive, even if this music itself impresses me less and less on every hearing.

 

III:  Cameron's Choice

Cellist Cameron Crozman was invited back to the Festival this year as a Stockey Young Artist artistic director trainee, and was requested to curate a handful of concerts. His introductory remarks at the second afternoon concert explained succinctly the way that "choosing" a concert in this role is actually a process of contact and response, negotiation, offer and counter-offer, until finally you and your available artists get it all nailed down.  

The concert began with Beethoven's String Quartet No. 3 in D Major, Op. 18.  Despite the slightly misleading title and opus number, this is actually the first quartet Beethoven completed. It lives fully in the received tradition if the Viennese classical period, of Haydn and Mozart, and is a thoroughly charming, high-spirited piece, bubbling over with good humour. Quatuor Despax, a unique string quartet made up entirely of members of the Despax family, gave a lively performance which fully captured the joviality of this youthful work.

Crozman himself followed with a work he had commissioned from highly respected Canadian composer Alexina Louie, giving Parry Sound the honour of hearing the world premiere performance. The piece was entitled "Quasi Cadenza" for Solo Cello, and for once the title describes the music perfectly. This lengthy cadenza was imaginative, inventive, technically challenging, and written at a high level of virtuosity, and Crozman surmounted all the challenges with bold attack and technical flair to burn.

The programme concluded with the Sonata for Cello (Violin) and Piano No. 1 in D Major, Op. 78 by Brahms. This arrangement was attributed to Klengel in the programme, but another source indicates that Brahms himself produced the cello arrangement in D Major from the G Major violin original, and that cellist Janos Starker had claimed that the arrangement Klengel produced was for viola and piano. The key point to note (pun intended) is the change in key from G Major to D Major when the work was arranged.

Crozman, with David Jalbert at the piano, produced a reading of considerable subtlety, an interpretation which looked forward to the sparer, more thoughtful style of the composer's late period. While there was no shortage of energy, and no lack of characterization, this duo presented the sonata in a manner which made clear exactly why the work has long been known (unofficially) as the Regensonate or "Rain Sonata." The colours of the music were definitely the monochrome shades and effects of a rainy day, and none the less rewarding for that. 

 

IV:  Canadian Pianofest # 3 -- Chopin and Dvořák

The evening concert presented two contrasted major works of the Romantic era.

The first was the String Quintet No. 2 in D Major, Op. 77 by Dvořák. Although I've loved the music of this Bohemian master all my life, this was my first encounter with this particular work. My feeling was that this work was less overtly "national" than many of Dvořák's compositions, although the hints of the usual dance rhythms and signature unusual modulations were still there.

The Rolston String Quartet, joined by double bass Joel Quarrington, gave this work a strong and powerful performance. The high energy of the first movement, allegro con fuoco, and the Scherzo: allegro vivace was well balanced by the lovely singing tone which these artists brought to the trio of the scherzo and to the succeeding Poco andante slow movement. 

 

The final pages were then whipped up into a high-stakes reading of the final coda, a coda in which Dvořák contrives to keep returning with another afterthought each time you think he's ending. The players kept upping the stakes each time the music speeded up again, and the final pages rocketed right off the stage. The succeeding standing ovation was well merited indeed.

 

After a brief break to allow the stage to be reset, we then heard the Chopin Piano Concerto No. 2 in F Minor, Op. 21, with pianist Bruce Liu, Quatuor Despax, and Joel Quarrington. Like its companion, No. 1 in G Minor, this concerto (which was actually the first one written) was published as a concerto for piano and orchestra or piano and strings -- hence the artistic viability of such a reduced-scale performance.

 

Janina Fialkowska stepped up briefly beforehand to inform the audience that this was the first occasion on which Liu had ever played the concerto in public. Not that you would ever have guessed that from the actual performance. Unlike some artists I've heard playing this concerto with reduced forces, Liu truly scaled down the tone of his overall performance to remain in keeping with a chamber-sized "orchestra" in a chamber-sized hall. 

 

That lightness of touch which Fialkowska had praised in Liu in the morning asserted its presence again and again, continually giving an air of fantasy, even whimsy, to a work which can often seem heavy-handed and overly showy in character with stronger treatment. For once, the concerto registered as music rather than coming across merely as a vehicle for pianistic acrobatics. This was particularly true of the finale, a Polish mazurka, where the music constantly lifted and danced along in the most delightful way.

The string quintet of Quatuor Despax and Quarrington were far from also-rans, giving us much pleasing detail in their parts. I don't think I've ever registered so much of the drama in the strings' lengthy tremolando passage at the heart of the slow movement.

In the final pages of the work, the ensemble and soloist alike built the music up to a powerful peroration in which, for the moment, the strings sounded so strongly that you could easily believe their numbers had been momentarily doubled.

 

This was, for my money, the finest chamber performance of this concerto I have ever heard. The audience seemed to share my opinion, to judge by the massive applause and cheering.

 

 

Festival of the Sound 2022 # 3: Routine But Never Routine

With Tuesday's concerts, we settled into the usual routine for which the Festival's weekdays have become known: an afternoon concert at 1:30pm or 3:30pm (or two concerts using both times) and an evening concert at 7:30 pm. The schedule is routine; the actual concerts are anything but that -- a truth amply proven on Tuesday.

As well, there are some fascinating changes this year. The former house programme, a book the size of a short novel with all the information for the entire Festival, has been replaced with a daily single-sheet leaflet. The artist's cover-painting-of-the-year is still featured each day, followed by a simple listing of works to be performed at that day's concerts. A QR code directs your device to the Festival website where the customary detailed performer biographies are located.

This follows the similar lead of such leading arts organizations as the Toronto Symphony and the Stratford Festival in providing minimal programme information in printed form, with details housed on their websites.

The next big change is the highly significant land acknowledgement at the beginning of each concert, which now comes in the form of a breathtaking video taken on the ground and in the air of the Wausauksing First Nation, just across the harbour, with the acknowledgement spoken as a voice-over.

Beneath these changes, and others mentioned in previous reviews, the Festival of the Sound is still just that: festive, and full of the glorious sounds of great music.

I:  Brahms and Haydn

 

The Tuesday afternoon concert featured the Rolston String Quartet along with the Festival's Artistic Director (and senior resident clarinettist) James Campbell. The quartet opened with a piece guaranteed to put me into a truly good mood -- the String Quartet No. 5 in G Major, Op. 33 by Haydn. This can only be described as an exuberantly jolly piece. When the quartet opens with a final cadence before launching into the opening main theme, I can almost picture Haydn chortling to himself over his desk as he wrote those notes -- and that's only the first of several jokes in the score.

The Rolston Quartet gave us a reading full of energy, zip, and go. Violinist Luri Lee played the long solo song in the second movement with an impassioned air that would elude many players, and her colleagues filled in the accompaniment parts with equally appropriate accenting of key notes. 

The four savoured the jokey cross-rhythms of the Scherzo third movement, and then leaned with more weight and fire than some would use into the allegretto variations of the finale. All in all, an exciting and rewarding performance of a composer too rarely heard nowadays.

After that upbeat opening, Campbell joined the Rolstons for the autumnal Clarinet Quintet in B Minor, Op. 115, by Brahms. This work is perennially in demand at the Festival, probably in a dead heat for first place of Most Often Performed with the Schubert Trout Quintet.

 

The Rolstons brought a similar sizzling energy to the table here, which was nicely balanced off and shaped as needed by Campbell's mellow, thoughtful performance of the clarinet part. The result was a reading of this beautiful masterpiece which offered more tension and thrust than many, without getting out of scale with the fact that this is a mature man's composition, a work written in recognition of a whole lifetime of experiences of all kinds. 

 

Particularly treasurable was the ensemble's crystal-clear playing in the chattering presto of the third movement. The extra drive also resulted in a bigger, more striking contrast at the point where the fifth variation in the finale suddenly closes into a rescored reiteration of the Quintet's opening phrases. That moment suddenly felt more like a collapse than ever before, to me at least.

 

II:  Canadian Pianofest # 1:  Janina Fialkowska in Recital

With the name "Janina Fialkowska" and the description "all-Chopin recital," the audience knew that great things were in prospect for the evening -- and they were not disappointed. In a space of not much more than an hour, Fialkowska's programme ranged from the well-known to the rare, and covered most of the genres in which Chopin composed for the solo piano during his brief but impressive career. Only the Impromptus and Mazurkas, I think, were absent.

Among the rarities, particular mention is due for the Waltz in a minor, Op. posth. which was published from manuscript in 1955. It was my first chance to hear this piece played live.

Also noteworthy for me was the inclusion of both Polonaises of Op. 40. The first of the pair, the famous "Military" Polonaise is a true repertoire warhorse, but its companion in C minor, which has something of the character of a funeral oration, is less well-known, and more's the pity. Not for nothing did the great Artur Rubinstein remark that the first was the symbol of Poland's glory while the second represented Poland's downfall.

It's often been observed that Chopin was "the poet of the piano," but much less often acknowledged that his music, even in its most stormy and dramatic moods, remains unfailingly poetic none the less.

The key to Fialkowska's splendid interpretive gifts with this composer lies in the fact that her playing, too, is always poetic in character, whatever the mood. 

The fire and majesty of her playing in the Polonaises and in the Scherzo No. 3 in C-sharp Minor was as intense as her undulating accompaniment in the Berceuse was gentle and soft. 

The strong character of Fialkowksa's playing is such that even old chestnuts like the Waltz in E-flat Major, Op. 18, the Military Polonaise, and the three Preludes Nos. 4, 7, & 19 emerged freshly minted and with a strong feeling of new discovery.

 

Always impressive is Fialkowska's imaginative way with rubato, restrained in amount but carefully chosen for impact and for the total shape of each work.

Overall, an intensely rewarding recital, and the cheers and applause of the standing ovation were entirely merited.

Festival of the Sound 2022 # 2: The Second Half-Century

In case you're wondering about the title... No, the Festival hasn't hit the half-century mark yet, but the featured performers of the second night certainly have. Originally invited in 2000, to celebrate the ensemble's 50th anniversary, the Canadian Brass took the stage on Monday to celebrate what Festival Artistic Director James Campbell called their "fifty plus two anniversary."

 

We've come to take for granted the musical excellence and sheer entertainment value of every Canadian Brass performance. We really shouldn't. It takes many hours of practice to master some of the more complex bits of comic shtick, and the intricacy found in several of the musical selections also calls for regular practice to keep up to the mark. The there's the whole question of comic timing in the verbal interludes between musical numbers. 

In short, the Canadian Brass take some very highly skilled musical and theatrical work and make it all look as if they just tossed it over their shoulders on the way to the hall. That, in itself, is a considerable achievement. Nor is that all. These five skilled musicians also have an enviable ability to take some very old and familiar comical set pieces and give them a fresh spin in every performance.

The actual musical numbers performed ran the gamut in time from the baroque to the twentieth century, from Monteverdi to Piazzolla. Styles of music varied widely, too -- the high-energy trumpet acrobatics of Vivaldi were set in enormous contrast to a gently meditative portrayal of New York's Central Park in the early morning.

 

The comic bits included such classic favourites as the coy display of the Canadian Brass socks inside of white running shoes (the group's signature look), and the tuba player's 360-degree rotation of his instrument while playing.

 

That last-mentioned routine is a real showpiece for Charles Daellenbach, the one member of the original ensemble of five from 1970 who is still playing with the group 52 years later.  

Although the Festival of the Sound is selling the Stockey Centre well below capacity to reduce crowding in lobbies and public spaces, the available seats were all sold for this concert and the Canadian Brass gave full measure in quantity and quality to their enthusiastic audience.

Due to the popularity of this concert, the musicians agreed to have a one-time-only recorded video of the event shown over the internet. This will be streamed on Wednesday, August 3 at 7:30 pm. Tickets for the streaming of the video recording can be purchased in advance from the box office page at the Festival's website:

 

Festival of the Sound Tickets

 

 

Festival of the Sound 2022 # 1: The Songs Return!

The songs return!

 

And the soloists, the ensembles, the sunsets on the deck, the concerts on the Island Queen cruises. the old music, the new music, any music! Welcome back to the Festival of the Sound, for the first time since 2019!

 

It would be hard to overestimate the excitement and buzz in the lobby prior to the concert, even though capacity was still reduced and people were still urged to wear masks (out of an abundance of caution). It's been a long time indeed since we got to see some old friends.

The Grand Opening of this first Festival of the 2020s gives a welcome opportunity to hear, once again, the Elmer Iseler Singers, under the direction of Lydia Adams, a top-notch chamber choir which has been making regular appearances at the Festival for about as long as I can remember.

 

As usual, the programme opened with welcomes and tributes, primarily from Artistic Director James Campbell. Jim wanted to thank all the volunteers who had kept the fires burning during the two long years with no summer festival in the hall, and especially to thank Executive Director Michael Martyn who has led the team so effectively through all the many changes. Then Mayor Jamie McGarvey gave his customary welcome from the Town of Parry Sound, including some heartfelt words of welcome for the Ukrainians who have settled here. 

 

It was a natural lead-on to then begin the concert with two national anthems, the Canadian and Ukrainian, followed by Leon Dubinsky's We Rise Again, a number with obvious resonances both for the Festival and for the people of Ukraine.

 

Later in the concert, we heard mezzo-soprano Andrea Ludwig as the soloist along with the choir in the Melodia by Ukrainian composer Myroslav Skoryk, a wordless vocalise of heart-tugging beauty.

 

Overall, the Iseler Singers presented a broad array of music of many types, from the robust Scottish folk tunes of the Celtic Suite to the serene, soaring lines of Healey Willan's Three Lady Motets, and the evocative harmonies of Eleanor Daley's Songs of Light: Stars and Moon to the shimmering soundscapes of Nur: Reflections on Light by Hussein Janmohamed.

In all these varying works, the Iseler Singers brought all their customary security of tone and blend of the individual voices into a single whole, a hallmark of their every performance. 

The concert concluded with Srul Irving Glick's The Hour Has Come. Originally composed as a stand-alone number, it was later incorporated by Glick as the finale of a ten-movement choral symphony of the same title. The poem, by Carole Leckner, draws an important message of the need for humanity to rise above and beyond war, and Glick's music uses evocative melodic lines and harmonies to build the piece towards a resounding climax on the final line, "the hour has come to love." Pianist Shawn Grenke provided power and flair aplenty in the orchestral accompaniment, and the choir rose splendidly to the final lines, with such immense strength that for the moment it sounded like the 20 singers had just been joined by 20 more!

 

Thanks to the Elmer Iseler Singers, this year's Festival is off to a resounding start!

 

 

Stratford Festival 2022 # 2: O Fortuna

It's all right, folks, the Stratford Festival isn't going whole-hog into classical music! It's just intriguing that on Saturday afternoon, for the second time in 24 hours, I was forcibly reminded of the famous opening chorus of Carmina Burana by Carl Orff while watching a play at Stratford. The text of that piece describes Fortune, Empress of the World, seated in the midst of her ever-turning wheel which elevates one person to the heights as it casts another down into the depths.

 

The first time I recalled it was at the performance of Chicago, when first Velma and then Roxie found that their starring moments of fame and notoriety were over and done as the press moved on to the next "big story." 

Yesterday, it was Shakespeare's "history" of Richard III, and the words that came so strongly to my mind as Richard's fall from the throne ended with his death were the final lines of the chorus:

Nam sub axe legimus Hecubam reginam.

"For beneath the wheel we read that Hecuba is queen"

The reference is to the legendary queen of mighty Troy who ended her life as a slave of the Greeks.

With all of Shakespeare's history cycle, it is important to remember that each of these plays was written in part to curry favour with mighty Elizabeth Tudor by demonstrating the legitimacy of her claim to the throne, a claim still disputed to this day in some quarters. None, though, is so blatant a piece of political propaganda as Richard III, the first of the cycle to be completed.

 

To begin with, Shakespeare committed, as most (but not all) historians today will agree, what amounted to a complete slander of Richard's reputation by portraying him as an outright melodramatic villain of totally sleazy and sickeningly immoral behaviour. The play then ends with his death at the hands of Henry Tudor, Earl of Richmond, who accepts the crown as King Henry VII -- and who was Elizabeth's grandfather. His final panegyric to the peaceful and powerful future of England is as plain a forecast of her greatness as the Archbishop's final speech about her at her christening scene in the Bard's last history play, Henry VIII.

 

How, then, does Stratford justify producing such a piece of theatre with such dubious historical credentials? Simply put, Richard III is first-rate theatre, with a fascinating cast of characters which includes, unusually for Shakespeare's histories, some truly powerful parts for women. Yes, there are the usual assortment of largely interchangeable nobles and churchmen whose names would have meant far more to an Elizabethan audience than they do to us today. Overall, though, the story of Richard III does have a very theatrical outline -- a plot in which the Duke of Gloucester, with immense pride and ambition, schemes and manipulates in order to remove all rival claimants to the throne, in order to solidify his own claim. 

 

To put it in terms of the symbolic figure of Fortune, Richard tried too hard to jog the lady's elbow and wring favour from her hands by force, and his downfall became all the more terrible when the wheel kept turning as it must. It's the classic fate of the tragically flawed hero, brought low by his own pride, but with the hero recast as the villain of the piece in an unusual reversal of the standard formula.

This year marks the 70th season of the Stratford Festival, and the Festival chose Richard III, which was the first of two plays in the inaugural 1953 season, to celebrate the long-delayed opening of the splendid new Tom Patterson Theatre. They've also celebrated the anniversary by indulging in a veritable cascade of luxury casting for this show.

Start with Colm Feore in the role of Richard himself. Feore, one of the most respected theatrical actors in Canada today, here gives one of the finest performances of his career. This is a role often played by a younger actor, as the historical Richard died when he was only 33. Despite being much older, Feore gives a most convincing portrayal of the energy of youth, combined with a heart-stopping assumption of the twisted and deformed physical shape which Shakespeare imposed upon the man. I wonder if Feore has to be thoroughly straightened out by backstage therapy after each performance?

Even more striking is the way that Feore so closely adheres to a hail-fellow-well-met tone as Richard, thoroughly disarming all critics with his geniality and winning the doubtful with his apparent sincerity, strongly tinged with self-mockery. This accords very well with the script, but I've never seen another actor make so much of it. The icy coldness which succeeds it in his private moments, and later in the play, is made doubly chilling as a result.

 

The luxury casting continues with the key women in the play. There are four key female roles in the play, and all were powerfully presented by some of Canadian classical theatre's brightest lights.  Jessica B. Hill as Lady Anne gives a performance of iron strength in the scene in which Richard woos her over the casket of the dead King Henry VI (whom he murdered). Ideally, perhaps, we should see more signs of wavering in Hill before the moment when Lady Anne accepts Richard's suit.

 

Lucy Peacock appears as Queen Elizabeth, the wife (and then the widow) of Edward IV, Richard's oldest brother. Peacock here tames the querulous note sometimes apt to appear in her voice and gives a performance of strength and resolution, showing by far the most regal disposition of anyone on the stage. The scene in which she successfully withstands Richard's blandishments when he asks to marry her daughter becomes, in Peacock's hands, the climactic turning point of the entire drama.

 

The role of the formidable Queen Margaret, widow of Henry VI, comes to powerful life in the voice and presence of Seana McKenna. Margaret can easily become the most melodramatic element of the play, yet McKenna makes her an intimidating presence, a voice of fate not easily ignored as she curses one and all in enigmatic terms which the rest of the play brings to fulfilment. McKenna makes Margaret truly the personification of Fortune, Empress of the World, as she foresees and predicts the fates of all the others.

 

Finally, in opposition to Margaret, comes the ageing and world-weary Duchess of York, Richard's mother, played with a true air of fatigue by Diana Leblanc. Her most memorable moment comes at the point where she laments that she had ever given birth to Richard. The scene, late in the play, in which these women come together on stage, practically remakes them into a chorus of despair, a striking parallel to the classical Greek tragedy The Trojan Women.

Another striking role, that of Tyrrell who murders the young princes in the tower, is here taken unusually by a woman. Hilary McCormack presents a formidable ice block of a woman, determined and unswayed by any emotion as she undertakes Richard's commission to murder two children. It's a brief but none the less chilling character portrait.

Some very strong actors with certified star credentials at Stratford have taken on a number of the roles of royals and nobles in the play. Michael Blake gives a convincing portrayal of Richard's good-hearted older brother, the Duke of Clarence, who right to the last remains convinced that Richard would never turn against him. His very nature betrays him.

Wayne Best makes much of his brief appearance as the aged and sick King Edward IV, creating a powerful effect with his voice even as he is bedridden, in a scene which has the advantage of being played out on the stage's flexible balcony level.

Ben Carlson presents a signature clear-spoken performance as Lord William Hastings. David Collins came across equally clearly as Lord Stanley.

Among these multiple noble lords, pride of place definitely must be given to Andre Sills, whose Duke of Buckingham gave Feore a real run for his money as the dominating presence on the stage. Not that it's a competition between actors in the way it would have been in the 1800s or earlier, but I'm convinced that these two could have switched roles with equally powerful results.

Finally, late in the day, comes the Earl of Richmond, Henry Tudor. Jamie Mac presented the man in all his morally-upright-justice-crusader splendour, the final speech a stunning conclusion to the play (especially as underlined by Berthold Carriere's powerful arrangement of Hubert Parry's Jerusalem, a kind of unofficial second national anthem of England). It's worthwhile to add here that this portrait in Shakespeare's script is every bit as fraudulent as the portrayal of Richard.

Most of these actors also double up as walk-ons in the crowd scenes. Even with that doubling, this Richard III still requires a company of 35 actors. 

Designer Francesca Callow has made ample use of light in her intriguing designs for this production. The balcony platform can be extended outwards to half the length of the stage, and this happens more than once. A long narrow central rectangle running for much of the stage floor's length could be illuminated from beneath by a pattern of stained-glass windows. From my seat near the stage end, I couldn't clearly discern if the intricate designs and figures of the "windows" made any comment on the action of the play, but it wouldn't surprise me if they did. 

Also able to be illuminated, from within, were the pillars supporting the balcony, and a number of the set pieces which were wheeled on and off -- a dining table and chairs, the casket of Henry VI, the bed where the princes in the tower were murdered, and more. These set items were clearly not in period, being mostly simply Cubist in design. The internal lighting of these set pieces was universally cold and white.

A striking addition to the play, and strikingly played out behind white cotton draperies on which lights cast the shadows of figures within, was the opening sequence in which Richard's grave was discovered beneath a car park in Leicester in 2012. The draperies were used again, very powerfully, to partially conceal the climactic scene of the Battle of Bosworth Field and the death of Richard.

Costumes ranged from the detailed (the royal garb of Queen Elizabeth and of Edward IV or the robes and mitre of the Bishop of Ely) to the merely suggestive (the mourning clothes of the four royal women in the last act), while remaining clearly in period.

Michael Walton's lighting designs vividly created the worlds of the play, with precise area lighting. The most notable examples were the carefully judged mood lighting of the murder scenes and the dynamic and unsettling lighting of the final battle.

Director Antoni Cimolino, Artistic Director of Stratford, has here crafted an uncommonly clear Richard III, thoughtfully staged and with the script thoughtfully pruned to bring as much clarity as possible for an audience not familiar with all the details of the history which the play purports to present.

For the most part, Cimolino and company have avoided the twisting back and forth to face the audience on three sides which sometimes afflicts actors in this space (one or two scenes still suffered from it). Throughout the show, the stage pictures created both clarity and drama to enhance the vocal work of the actors. The entire show -- long as it is (just shy of 3 hours with 1 intermission) -- still moved along at a brisk clip from start to finish. 

This Richard III is a worthy successor to all previous Stratford stagings of the play which I have seen, a memorably staged, designed, and performed production which has highlighted, in no uncertain terms, the greatest strengths of this company. 

******************** 

A quick note about the brand-new Tom Patterson Theatre. As we all expected and hoped, this splendid new facility has retained the traditional sightlines and dimensions of its curling-rink predecessor of the same name, while enclosing the auditorium with the largest and most architecturally dramatic lobby spaces of any theatre I've ever seen in Canada (undersized lobbies are the bane of the Festival's other three theatres). It is, by any standards, a stunning achievement.

 

The technical standards of the new house are also vastly improved over the previous one.

 

Note to those buying tickets: in a 180-degree reversal of the old Tom Patterson Theatre, you now enter the auditorium at the top row and walk down the stairs to the lower rows. 

Sadly, the beautiful and comfortable new seats are confined to spaces just as limited as their stacking chair ancestors in the curling rink. This means that the new theatre is just as cramped and uncomfortable as the old one for people with long legs, or people with knee or ankle problems. That became clear when I tried to stand up at the end of the 100-minute first act.