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.
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