On Thursday I was kindly invited by DD to the Bozar to attend a performance of the Mozart Requiem KV 626 by Anima Eterna Brugge and the Collegium Vocale Ghent, led by Jos van Immerseel.
The choir was was a mere 16 head strong and the orchestra’s 40-ish members were standing (but not the celli, of course). It took me some time to get used to the sight. But ostensibly the musicians weren’t bothered at all by this unusual practice. The Bozar hall was rather well filled and there hung a pleasing ambiente of attentiveness and awe over the audience.
Before the break the Grabmusik KV 42 was played, an Italianate, oratorio style composition that Mozart wrote at the tender age of 11. I don’t think I ever heard such a low Köchel numbered composition before, but it was against my expectations still rather interesting. I was particularly struck by the fresh voices of the American soprano Andrea-Lauren Brown and the German bass-baritone Thomas Bauer.
The Requiem was the obvious attraction of the evening. It’s a piece I used to listen to a lot in the early days of my musical explorations. The buzz surrounding the Amadeus movie and an excellent French-German TV series on Mozart I remember seeing certainly contributed to my attraction. In those days I also had a somewhat morbid fascination for that typically Viennese brand of death cult and necromancy. The mysterious circumstances in which the Requiem emerged fitted nicely with this. Apart from that it’s a masterpiece, of course, that hasn’t lost anything of its doom-laden freshness.
Despite the modest forces on stage, Van Immerseel presented us with a sternly monumental reading. Tempos were brisk, and the different movements crashed into one another as ice floes on an arctic sea. It was effectively Caspar David Friedrich’s glum painting of ‘Das Eismeer’ that constantly floated before my mind’s eye. It was all angular movement and tectonics, hardly any colour. No place for Biedermeier emotions here. But that doesn’t mean the music was devoid of life. It did breathe, in a clenched teeth sort of way. During the Dies Irae (‘quantus tremor est futurus’) I had to think how this piece was written at a time of momentous social change (the French Revolution) that in Europe would herald at least two centuries of almost uninterrupted carnage. Again Andrea-Lauren Brown provided some respite from the pervading rigour. This soprano comes with a lovely, lyrical but firm voice and a most endearing and poised stage presence. Also the other soloists proved their mettle. The Collegium Vocale, despite their modest forces, produced an piercingly powerful sound. As the piece progressed I was under the impression that van Immerseel was relaxing just a tad, allowing for a flourish and a splash of colour here and there. Or was he just spotlighting the stylistic differences of Süssmayer’s contribution? After the concert I briefly spoke with the maestro but he denied he wanted to put the different sources in relief. It couldn’t be done as there is no autograph to tell us where Mozart stopped and his colleague took over. The performance was met with a rapturous, grateful applause.
Posts tonen met het label Mozart. Alle posts tonen
Posts tonen met het label Mozart. Alle posts tonen
vrijdag 1 juni 2012
vrijdag 27 april 2012
Debussy: String Quartet - Shostakovich: String Quartet nr. 10 - Mozart: String Quartet KV 421
I still have to report on a live concert I attended last week at the Brussels conservatory. Thanks to CB for the kind invitation (once again!). The Jerusalem Quartet was visiting with a very interesting programme: Mozart's Quartet nr. 15, Shostakovich's Tenth Quartet and the Debussy Quartet. I had never heard this Israeli ensemble before. I was soon convinced that we were listening to a top class quartet which to my mind excelled with an exceedingly cultured and softly grained sound. In a way their playing, eschewing expressive idiosyncracies, felt very old style.
The Mozart quartet (1783) was an eye-opener (or rather an ear-opener). It's the second of the Haydn quartets and, as is the case with the KV 310 and KV 457 (1784) piano sonatas I listened to recently, the only work in the minor key in that particular collection. Clearly a work with heft and the Jerusalems played it poised and earnestly. They were not able, however, to impart a similar sense of inevitability to the Shostakovich quartet. The op. 110 is a late work, composed in 1964 and one of those wonderfully wry and luminous works of the ageing master. It's perhaps the most beautiful quartet of the whole set. I also like it a lot in Barshai's rendering for chamber ensemble. The Jerusalem Quartet's reading sounded a trifle self-conscious and manicured to my ears. As in many Shostakovich late works, there is this very characteristic mixture of childlike simplicity and violence. Despite the obvious care lavished on the performance, neither was brought off very convincingly. I also thought the long breaks between movements marred the flow of the music.
After the break there was the Debussy Quartet (1893) as 'plat de résistance'. A marvelous work that shows the young Debussy at his most accomplished. Despite the freedom of form, the piece sounds composed through and through. In its multifaceted sense of balance the quartet has jewel-like qualities. It strikes me as an undercover symphony in the garb of a chamber work. Indeed, I'm not surprised that the work has been re-orchestrated for larger ensemble (although it's not clear who the author of the adaptation is; this version certainly is not widely known). One thing that is hard to overlook, particularly in the slow movement, is the kinship with the music of Vaughan Williams. The latter studied with Ravel for a short while (in 1908) and in that short period he must have thoroughly have absorbed the French idiom. Anyway, Debussy's chamber music does not cease to amaze me and I'm putting it well ahead of his piano and orchestral works. The Jerusalem Quartet's performance was a cause for joy: lithe, fluid and strong. Their tone is full and has the patina of well worn beautiful objects. Debussy would have liked it, I'm sure. I've been listening in parallel to recordings with the Tokyo String Quartet and the Belcea Quartet, both of which are of very high quality. The Belcea performance strikes me as a tad more characterful and seems to thoroughly deserve its Gramophone award (in 2001).
The concert was concluded with a brief encore from one of the Haydn op. 20 quartets which reconfirmed the ensemble's mastery in the classical repertoire. Their performance captured the inimitable blend of simplicity and sublime sophistication that is so typical for Haydn to perfection. I'm certainly going to look out for other opportunities to listen to this quartet.
The Mozart quartet (1783) was an eye-opener (or rather an ear-opener). It's the second of the Haydn quartets and, as is the case with the KV 310 and KV 457 (1784) piano sonatas I listened to recently, the only work in the minor key in that particular collection. Clearly a work with heft and the Jerusalems played it poised and earnestly. They were not able, however, to impart a similar sense of inevitability to the Shostakovich quartet. The op. 110 is a late work, composed in 1964 and one of those wonderfully wry and luminous works of the ageing master. It's perhaps the most beautiful quartet of the whole set. I also like it a lot in Barshai's rendering for chamber ensemble. The Jerusalem Quartet's reading sounded a trifle self-conscious and manicured to my ears. As in many Shostakovich late works, there is this very characteristic mixture of childlike simplicity and violence. Despite the obvious care lavished on the performance, neither was brought off very convincingly. I also thought the long breaks between movements marred the flow of the music.
After the break there was the Debussy Quartet (1893) as 'plat de résistance'. A marvelous work that shows the young Debussy at his most accomplished. Despite the freedom of form, the piece sounds composed through and through. In its multifaceted sense of balance the quartet has jewel-like qualities. It strikes me as an undercover symphony in the garb of a chamber work. Indeed, I'm not surprised that the work has been re-orchestrated for larger ensemble (although it's not clear who the author of the adaptation is; this version certainly is not widely known). One thing that is hard to overlook, particularly in the slow movement, is the kinship with the music of Vaughan Williams. The latter studied with Ravel for a short while (in 1908) and in that short period he must have thoroughly have absorbed the French idiom. Anyway, Debussy's chamber music does not cease to amaze me and I'm putting it well ahead of his piano and orchestral works. The Jerusalem Quartet's performance was a cause for joy: lithe, fluid and strong. Their tone is full and has the patina of well worn beautiful objects. Debussy would have liked it, I'm sure. I've been listening in parallel to recordings with the Tokyo String Quartet and the Belcea Quartet, both of which are of very high quality. The Belcea performance strikes me as a tad more characterful and seems to thoroughly deserve its Gramophone award (in 2001).
The concert was concluded with a brief encore from one of the Haydn op. 20 quartets which reconfirmed the ensemble's mastery in the classical repertoire. Their performance captured the inimitable blend of simplicity and sublime sophistication that is so typical for Haydn to perfection. I'm certainly going to look out for other opportunities to listen to this quartet.
dinsdag 3 april 2012
Anima Eterna - Symphonic Silver
A couple of weeks ago DD, a reader of this listening diary, sent me a complimentary LP, issued in a limited edition of 500 copies (mine is nr. 28) on the occasion of Anima Eterna Brugge's silver jubilee. The luxurious and lavishly decorated double sleeve album was personally signed by Jos van Immerseel, the orchestra's conductor and tireless 'animator'. A very friendly gesture of both sender and signer, for which many thanks! I must confess that Anima appeared on my radar only at a fairly late stage in their existence. It was their Beethoven set, recorded in 2005 for the Zig-Zag label that struck me more or less like a bolt from the blue. Up to that point I had been rather sceptical about the whole HIP movement, but van Immerseel with his Beethoven finally convinced me to embrace what period performance had to offer. That doesn't mean that I'm going along in their conception of 'authenticity' which, for me as a listener (and not as a music scholar), is largely besides the point. Being true to the spirit of the music is for me much more important than being true to the text. (Here I'm reminded again of that Debussy encore by Horowitz that I listened to last week. In his superslow rendering of the Serenade for the Doll, he must have taken terrific liberties with the score. And it was performed on a Steinway and not an Erard to boot. But who cares when this trifle nestles itself in your brain and mercilessly haunts you for a week on end!) It's an endless debate, of course, and we're not going to resolve it here. Suffice it to say that for me it is immaterial on which instrument a piece is played as long as it speaks to me as a human being. Or think about it this way: what a priceless legacy would we lose if everything that was recorded by traditionalists would simply be binned on the grounds that it didn't meet requisite criteria for 'authenticity'? That wouldn't make sense at all, wouldn't it?
van Immerseel's Beethoven was very good and his Berlioz Symphonie Fantastique was an utter revelation. I wrote a glowing Amazon review about this recording of which I'm still very fond. Sadly I have not yet been able to investigate other Anima Eterna recordings. I seem to remember that Robert Redford, in a column for Gramophone magazine, picked the orchestra's recording of Ravel's Boléro as his most treasured disc. I also would love to hear their Strauss, Liszt and Rimsky recordings. It will come, in due time. These days, Anima is touring with a Debussy programme which I sadly missed when they performed it in Brussels and Antwerp. Unfortunately there seem to be no plans to record it.
What I appreciate first and foremost in the van Immerseel/Anima Eterna recordings I know is a compelling view of 'the whole'. It's in my opinion a minimum requirement for any performance that aims for the status of greatness. If the overall architecture isn't right, then scrupulous attention to authentic detail won't save it (Debussy's music may be a terrific exception to this rule, as I tried to argue rather helplessly in my exchange with Mark DeVoto). And then there is the typical bonus that comes with period performance in the form of lean textures, crisp articulation and an overall more transparant sonic image. Luckily van Immerseel steers a middle course between the lushness of traditional performances and the brutish attacks of iconoclasts such as René Jacobs and Giovanni Antonini for whom textural ugliness seems to be a virtue. Anima Eterna produces a quite beautiful, sophisticated sound and there is a distinctive and beguiling earthiness to it that I'm not hearing anywhere else. This 'middle course', however, does not imply that van Immerseel's interpretations aim for a safe middle ground. I seem to notice that his recordings elicit very polarised reviews.The contrast between these two assessments of Anima's recent Poulenc disc is quite typical. I seem to think that van Immerseel is not too unhappy with this state of affairs.
The LP features a potpourri of pieces, from the early baroque to the 20th century, to illustrate the orchestra's breadth of repertoire. Some are excerpts from albums that have been issued earlier on Channel Classics (Mozart's piano concertos) and Zig-Zag (the Beethoven symphonies, the Poulenc concerto for two pianos). But the LP includes two unreleased tracks: a live recording of De Falla's Fire Dance (from Amor Brujo) and the finale from Schubert's Second Symphony from an archived studio recording. What, surprisingly, struck me most from the pieces included is an excerpt (Klaglied) from an early (1994) recording of a Buxtehude cantata (Mit Fried und Freud, ich fahr dahin, Bux WV 76) with the Collegium Vocale Gent. Limpid, harmonically rich but most effective in its simplicity it touched a nerve. It went straight onto my wishlist. Beyond the Buxtehude there is much to enjoy. I liked the measured approach to the Fire Dance a lot (as I did appreciate the deceptively leisurely take on Berlioz' Marche au supplice). Anima turned it from just another orchestral spectacular into a compelling study in colours and rhythms. The fiery Schubert finale is another highlight. I'm not so sure what to think of the Larghetto taken from the Poulenc double concerto. The sonic signature is very different from other Anima recordings, with the orchestra and soloists recorded as if from a rather great distance. In combination with the 'watery' sound of the two Erard pianos this creates a dreamy atmosphere as if we are hearing the piece in half-sleep. Finally, I've never investigated van Immerseel's take on the Mozart piano concertos. This was the recording project that brought him and the orchestra an international audience. But judging from the Allegro from KV 450 I seem to understand better what all the fuss at the time was about. If Channel Classics could be persuaded to re-issue the full set at an affordable price, I'd jump on it.
The technical quality of the LP is very good. I did an A/B comparison with the CD recording of the Beethoven Prometheus overture and the LP seems marginally more lively. Again, thanks for this generous treat to 'symphonic silver'.
zondag 18 maart 2012
Mozart: Piano Sonatas nr. 8 (KV 310) and nr. 14 (KV 457), Fantasie KV 475
Pires’ take on the Allegro maestoso of KV 310 is brisk and finely chiseled. It lacks the weight and momentum of Sokolov’s reading but contains enough light and shade to keep the listener engaged. The Andante cantabile is presented in a wonderfully sensitive way. This is really a highlight. The Presto is deftly dispatched too. All in all this strikes me as a very mature reading that leaves little to be desired.
The other pieces in this collection are played at a similarly high level. The beautiful Fantasie KV 475 (1785) must be one of Mozart’s most darkly romantic inventions, almost Schubertian in its Weltschmerz. The other sonata included on this disc is KV 457, the only other one in a minor key (composed in 1784). It even surpasses nr. 8 in heft and dignity.
All in all a beautiful collection that is worth being rediscovered. The technical quality of the recording is fine, even if the piano sounds a tad dry.
Rameau: Suite en ré - Mozart: Sonata for Piano, KV 310 - Brahms: Händel Variations, 3 Intermezzi op. 117
Yesterday I was generously invited by HVC to a solo recital by the Russian pianist Grigory Sokolov. I've known Sokolov for a while and collected the few available recordings on the Naive label. I witnessed him live two years ago, with, amongst others Chopin's Etudes op. 25. He is likely not a household name, maybe not even for seasoned music lovers. This is due to his very limited discography and his seeming allergy to the traps of stardom. Interviews with him are few and far between. With his rather bulky posture he doesn't correspond to the aesthetic norms imposed by the contemporary music industry. And as far as I know he focuses to a large extent on the solo repertoire and plays only few concertos, eschewing the glamour of playing with a symphony orchestra. But for those in the know Sokolov is one of the most gifted pianists around. He is often mentioned as the natural heir to Sviatoslav Richter.
HVC thinks Sokolov is seeking out the extremes in his interpretations. I agree that there is something larger than life in his performances but it doesn't strike me as forced or recherché. He just happens to project the music on a grand scale, and he has the physical power and stamina to support this with a way of playing that in its granitic and sometimes volcanic qualities is fully commensurate with this panoramic vision. The grandeur is saved from bombast by Sokolov's remarkably poised tone. Yesterday again I've been marvelling at it. It's as if it is composed of a perfectly balanced mix of the four elements: earth, fire, water and air. It has depth and translucence, speed and liquidity all at the same time. Add to that his exceptional technical prowess which gives his playing an air of inevitability and you have to my mind a quite intoxicating mix.
His Brussels recital started with a long suite by Rameau, obviously intended for the harpsichord. Sokolov has a number of these pieces in his repertoire, including work by Couperin, Froberger and Byrd. I'm not at all sure that this is the kind of music that puts Sokolov's art in the best possible light. It seems to be much bound up with the instrument it was conceived for. So, particularly in the slow movements you get the impression of listening to quite simple, almost folkish pieces with elaborate right hand figurations pasted on top. The fast movements, however, had something of that irresistible energy, terraced dynamics and fluidity of line that Sokolov is able to infuse his music with. Then Mozart's serious Piano Sonata nr. 8, KV 310 (1778). Allegedly written in conjuction with his mother's death, it is one of only two Mozart sonatas in a minor key. The quasi monothematic first movement was played with tremendous panache. In its propulsive energy I was reminded of Gulda and maybe even Lipatti. The slow movement came across very well, with a marvelously introspective central section. A short Presto in rondo form brought the first part of the concert to an end.
After the break the programme was fully devoted to Brahms. First Sokolov played the Variations and Fugue on Theme by Händel, op. 24 (1861). It's not a piece I'm particularly fond of and Sokolov didn't change that. Many will disagree but to me the level of musical invention in this piece does not seem to be at a consistently high level. There are marvelous episodes, of course, not in the least the crowning fugue but perhaps the scope of the work exceeded Brahms capabilities who was after all not even 30 years old. Maybe I'm just talking nonsense here. Anyway, Sokolov sovereignly knows his way with piece, sculpting it as if it was out of marble, lending it an air of brazen monumentality. It's impressive how he is able to capture that archtypical Brahms sound, which is really undescribable. The final fugue, which transported us back to Bachian rather than Handelian roots, was an amazing feat which Sokolov offered with an almost orchestral splendor. And all of that dashed off with a surprising equanimity of the person behind the keyboard. The recital closed with the three Intermezzi, op. 117. A weird choice, as far as I'm concerned, to follow up the expansiveness of the Variations with these autumnal, brooding pieces (the famous 'lullabies' to Brahms' sorrows). At this stage I felt my mind wandering, saturated by all the felicities of the evening. The audience responded rapturously, seducing Sokolov (without relinquishing his totally uncommunicative mien) to play two encores: another Brahms piece (not sure what it was) and something I seemed to recognise as a short excerpt from Händel's Water Music.
This was a remarkable recital.
HVC thinks Sokolov is seeking out the extremes in his interpretations. I agree that there is something larger than life in his performances but it doesn't strike me as forced or recherché. He just happens to project the music on a grand scale, and he has the physical power and stamina to support this with a way of playing that in its granitic and sometimes volcanic qualities is fully commensurate with this panoramic vision. The grandeur is saved from bombast by Sokolov's remarkably poised tone. Yesterday again I've been marvelling at it. It's as if it is composed of a perfectly balanced mix of the four elements: earth, fire, water and air. It has depth and translucence, speed and liquidity all at the same time. Add to that his exceptional technical prowess which gives his playing an air of inevitability and you have to my mind a quite intoxicating mix.
His Brussels recital started with a long suite by Rameau, obviously intended for the harpsichord. Sokolov has a number of these pieces in his repertoire, including work by Couperin, Froberger and Byrd. I'm not at all sure that this is the kind of music that puts Sokolov's art in the best possible light. It seems to be much bound up with the instrument it was conceived for. So, particularly in the slow movements you get the impression of listening to quite simple, almost folkish pieces with elaborate right hand figurations pasted on top. The fast movements, however, had something of that irresistible energy, terraced dynamics and fluidity of line that Sokolov is able to infuse his music with. Then Mozart's serious Piano Sonata nr. 8, KV 310 (1778). Allegedly written in conjuction with his mother's death, it is one of only two Mozart sonatas in a minor key. The quasi monothematic first movement was played with tremendous panache. In its propulsive energy I was reminded of Gulda and maybe even Lipatti. The slow movement came across very well, with a marvelously introspective central section. A short Presto in rondo form brought the first part of the concert to an end.
After the break the programme was fully devoted to Brahms. First Sokolov played the Variations and Fugue on Theme by Händel, op. 24 (1861). It's not a piece I'm particularly fond of and Sokolov didn't change that. Many will disagree but to me the level of musical invention in this piece does not seem to be at a consistently high level. There are marvelous episodes, of course, not in the least the crowning fugue but perhaps the scope of the work exceeded Brahms capabilities who was after all not even 30 years old. Maybe I'm just talking nonsense here. Anyway, Sokolov sovereignly knows his way with piece, sculpting it as if it was out of marble, lending it an air of brazen monumentality. It's impressive how he is able to capture that archtypical Brahms sound, which is really undescribable. The final fugue, which transported us back to Bachian rather than Handelian roots, was an amazing feat which Sokolov offered with an almost orchestral splendor. And all of that dashed off with a surprising equanimity of the person behind the keyboard. The recital closed with the three Intermezzi, op. 117. A weird choice, as far as I'm concerned, to follow up the expansiveness of the Variations with these autumnal, brooding pieces (the famous 'lullabies' to Brahms' sorrows). At this stage I felt my mind wandering, saturated by all the felicities of the evening. The audience responded rapturously, seducing Sokolov (without relinquishing his totally uncommunicative mien) to play two encores: another Brahms piece (not sure what it was) and something I seemed to recognise as a short excerpt from Händel's Water Music.
This was a remarkable recital.
zondag 28 augustus 2011
Mixed Arias by Mozart, Bizet and Verdi - Gershwin and jazz standards
Dutch Radio 4's Concerthuis has been another splendid discovery. I have listened to two full concerts via my iPad connected to the hifi setup. One was a gala concert from May this year with the soprano Anna Caterina Antonacci and the Rotterdam Philharmonic led by Christoph Ulrich Meier. I was browsing the composer list looking for something short and familiar to listen to. Hitting Bizet brought me to this concert. The soloist wasn't familiar at all. A short snippet from Carmen, however, revealed a quite interesting voice, somewhere in between the soprano and mezzo range. I looked a few things up which revealed an artist with an unconventional career, spanning very different repertoires (from Renaissance to contemporary) and spending very little time in the recording studio (so small wonder I'd never heard of her). So I listened on, particularly enjoyed the Carmen pieces and the beautiful concluding aria from Verdi's Don Carlos. The RPO played very well, the sound from De Doelen concert hall was very good and the audience was disciplined but enthusiastic. Altogether an enjoyable listening experience, in its vibrant live ambience quite different from an average studio recording.
The other concert was even to a greater extent a case of serendipity. I wanted to check what was available under 'Bartok', but my finger selected 'Basie' instead. So I ended up with a performance of the Jazz Orchestra of the Concertgebouw, with pieces by Basie, Ellington and Gershwin, as well as a transcription of Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker Suite for large jazz ensemble. Same pattern here: I checked one of the shorter pieces and was sucked right in. Wow, this was a fantastic occasion with the orchestra playing their butts off. The Tchaikovsky was a good curtain raiser. Rudolf Brautigam was on the piano in a swinging version of Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue. I was captivated by the Basie and Ellington standards. Gershwin's I Got Rhtyhm was a rousing finale, with the orchestra under full steam. The sound from the Concertgebouw was astonishingly good, with the brass section cutting like laser beam through the musical fabric. It was a real treat. Clearly, the Concerthuis has a lot to offer.
The other concert was even to a greater extent a case of serendipity. I wanted to check what was available under 'Bartok', but my finger selected 'Basie' instead. So I ended up with a performance of the Jazz Orchestra of the Concertgebouw, with pieces by Basie, Ellington and Gershwin, as well as a transcription of Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker Suite for large jazz ensemble. Same pattern here: I checked one of the shorter pieces and was sucked right in. Wow, this was a fantastic occasion with the orchestra playing their butts off. The Tchaikovsky was a good curtain raiser. Rudolf Brautigam was on the piano in a swinging version of Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue. I was captivated by the Basie and Ellington standards. Gershwin's I Got Rhtyhm was a rousing finale, with the orchestra under full steam. The sound from the Concertgebouw was astonishingly good, with the brass section cutting like laser beam through the musical fabric. It was a real treat. Clearly, the Concerthuis has a lot to offer.
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