Filed under: Reviews | Tags: Caccini, Grace Asquith, Karl Kroeger, Lotti, Maureen Sorensson, Mompou, Parisotti, William Kearns
In spite of what a lot of people think, it is not easy to write a review of a program or concert where there are two relatively mismatched performers. How does the reviewer know for sure whether one of the performers is simply having a bad night? That has happened to many performers, no matter what their stature. On the other hand, it is the reviewer’s duty to speak the truth about the performance and let the chips fall where they may. Such is the quandary that I am in concerning a song recital presented by Maureen Sorensson, soprano, and Grace Asquith, piano. This recital was performed Saturday, September 26, in the Broomfield Auditorium.
Grace Asquith is a fine pianist, and her playing throughout this performance was some of the best I have heard from her.
Unfortunately, the singing by Maureen Sorensson was not at the same level. Ms. Sorensson has much experience singing concert and opera repertoire, and she is a member of the Central City Opera Ensemble. Ms. Sorensson is also a member of the voice faculty at the University of Wyoming.
Sorensson opened program with three Italian songs that are familiar to anyone who has had voice lessons, for they are often used for pedagogical purposes. The first was Pur decesti, o bocca bella by Antonio Lotti. Lotti (1667-1740) was a Venetian composer who eventually became the organist and choir director at St. Mark’s Cathedral in Venice. It seemed difficult for Ms. Sorensson to sing with the same lightness of approach that Grace Asquith demonstrated at the keyboard. My problem with Ms. Sorensson’s singing is that every song on the program, with a few exceptions, was sung with the same inflection, phrasing, and very nearly the same dynamic level. And in addition to that, her voice exhibited a bleat at a medium dynamic level that was prevalent throughout the entire program. The only time the bleat (or warble) disappeared was when she sang full volume, and thus gave her voice more support. Her voice is certainly attractive, but it seemed as though the lack of support was also causing a few problems with pitch as well. The second of the opening Italian trio of songs was Amarilli, mia bella by Giulio Caccini. Caccini was a member of the Italian Camerata, a group of composers and poets who were instrumental in establishing the emergence of the Baroque style. All musicians, at some time or another, suffer from extreme nervousness, and it could be that the Sorensson was afflicted by this. The second song, while not badly sung, suffered from the same lack of support and inspiration. The third song of this Italian group is attributed Alessandro Parisotti. Parisotti (1853-1913) was a collector of Italian songs and arias which he published in a volume intended to be used by teachers of voice. He was, however, quite dishonest in this pursuit. Some of the songs he claimed as his own, and some were songs that he did write himself, but then passed them off as recently discovered works of past composers. Parisotti attributes Se tu m’ami, se tu sospiri, which Maureen Sorensson sung, to Giovanni Pergolesi, when in point of fact, Parisotti wrote this work himself. All very interesting!
There followed three songs by Federico Mompou, a Spanish composer who died in 1987. He is well-known for his piano works, and the three songs that Sorensson chose were quite delightful. There followed three French songs, all with Claire de lune in the title. CU Professor Elissa Guralnick gave a presentation before these French songs, enlightening the audience on Debussy’s, Faure’s, and Joseph Szulc concept of moonlight, which encompassed happy to sad. Even in the third and most sorrowful song by Szulc (1875-1956), Sorensson maintained a light and airy style, albeit softer, and seemed unable to communicate the sadness about which she was singing.
After the intermission, Ms. Sorensson sang three of Schubert’s most well-known songs, Heidenroslein, Du bist die ruh, and An Silvia. Grace Asquith made these songs quite enjoyable, demonstrating her ability to give Schubert life.
Next on the program were two sets of songs written by Karl Kroeger and William Kearns. Both of these gentlemen are now retired from teaching at the School of Music at the University of Colorado in Boulder. Both of them had quite distinguished careers. The Kroeger songs were really very traditional harmonically, but they were extremely expressive songs based on the poetry of Sara Teasdale. The three poems Kroger used were Beautiful, Proud Sea, Sand-Drift, and Blue Stargrass. Ms. Sorensson was considerably better in these songs and seemed to find it easier to give her voice more support so that the bleat disappeared. The Kearns songs were more avant-garde, and are to be performed by a reader with accompaniment on French horn. Grace Asquith was the reader and Dr. Kearns played the French horn. These songs were based on the poetry of Emily Dickinson: I’m Nobody!, Farewell, and Day’s Parlor. It was quite a comparison to hear Grace Asquith read the Kearns songs (it is hard to think of them as anything but songs) and to hear Sorensson sing the Kroeger songs. It underscored the fact that Sorensson could use some work on diction, and it emphasized that throughout the evening, I was having difficulty understanding her words.
After the songs by Kroeger and Kearns, Sorensson sang three well-known songs of Samuel Barber, Daisies, Sure On This Shining Night, and A Green Lowland of Pianos. Vocally, these were better than the first half of the program – she seemed to give her voice more support so that there was no warble. She ended the program with three humorous songs, Penguin Geometry, by John Duke; Love’s Riddle, by Elinor Remick Warren; and Sneezles, by Harold Fraser-Simson.
Maureen Sorensson, as I stated above, has a very nice voice to listen to. But for the warble and her on-again, off-again diction, I wouldn’t have found it such an exhausting program to listen to. Grace Asquith gave Sorensson many stylistic and interpretive cues through her excellent playing, but Sorensson seemed to sing every song in the same style, particularly on the first half of the program. On the second half of the program she did offer some dynamic variation. Sorensson has a good reputation as a singer, but I was nonplussed by this performance.
Filed under: Reviews | Tags: Chris Thile, Copland, Four Moments Musical, Gershwin, Jeffry Kahane, Mandolin Concerto, Rhapsody in Blue, William Hill
The matinee performance given by the Colorado Symphony Orchestra on Sunday, the 20th, was truly enjoyable. It was an all-American program featuring Aaron Copland’s Suite from Billy the Kid, Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue, Four Moments Musical, by Denver’s own William Hill, and a mandolin concerto entitled Ad astra per alas porci by Chris Thile.
The program opened with the Copland Suite, which was last performed by the CSO in 2002. Billy the Kid is infinitely more satisfying than Copland’s Rodeo, and in some ways more satisfying than Appalachian Spring, which is certainly his most popular piece. It was well received in Chicago when it was premiered in 1938, and Copland always seemed a little bit surprised that it remained a favorite of the concert going public for the rest of his life. Copeland uses almost sixty percent of the original score in his Suite and that is one of the reasons this piece is so popular when it is performed in a concert hall. It has been a long time since I have heard this piece performed with such vigor and enthusiasm. There are eight different sections which tell the story of Billy the Kid. Among them are the Open Prairie, a Street in a Frontier Town, in which Billy the Kid’s mother is killed by an outlaw, and leads us through a uncontrolled gun fight with its punctuations from the percussion. The seventh is Billy’s Death, and the eighth is the return of the Open Prairie theme. This was a fine performance of an underrated piece with some very difficult rhythms that each section of the orchestra must deal with, because Copland gave important solos to each section in a way that is reminiscent of Bartok’s Concerto for Orchestra.
Next on the program, the CSO performed Rhapsody in Blue with Jeffrey Kahane as piano soloist, and conducting from the bench. The version chosen for performance was the arrangement by American composer Ferde Grofe, which he completed for Paul Whiteman’s orchestra in 1924. Kahane sat with his back toward the audience with the nose of the piano pointed into the orchestra. This is fairly common when conducting from the piano bench. This performance was full of life, full of energy, and was in many, many ways beyond compare. The tempos that were taken in some of the quicker sections were astoundingly fast, and therein lies the problem. You must understand that Jeffrey Kahane is one of the most gifted musicians to ever conduct the Colorado Symphony Orchestra. He is also a remarkably fine concert pianist. But, you must also understand how incredibly busy this man is with the orchestra and all of the responsibilities that he carries on his shoulders. I bring this up because on Sunday, at the performance that I attended, in the fast sections it sounded as though he simply had not the time to practice enough. Keep in mind that this is a very difficult piece, and there are many concert pianists who never perform it in their lifetime. I don’t doubt that Kahane has the ability to perform this entire piece as cleanly as most of it was played. Jeffrey Kahane has fingers of steel, but one must have the ability to focus on this piece with undivided attention prior to its performance. I’m relatively sure that he has performed this piece before, judging by the wonderful musicality that he imparted to this performance. But, there were some spots where the finger work lacked the articulation that the rest of the piece possessed. There is not one concert pianist alive who has had a mistake-free performance of any piece you care to mention, but their work does sound practiced. It did sound to me that some of the tempos that were taken were a little fast. Had he been responsible for only this one work, instead of conducting the entire concert, and had he a little more time for preparation, it would have been flawless.
After this performance, came three encores, richly deserved, with Jeffrey Kahane at the piano and Bil Jackson, the CSO’s preeminent first chair clarinetist, in an arrangement of Gershwin’s Three Preludes, originally written for piano but arranged in this case for clarinet and piano. Outstanding.
After the intermission, the CSO performed William Hill’s delightful piece entitled Four Moments Musical. This piece was last performed by the CSO in 2003. For those of you who do not follow the CSO, William Hill is the principal timpanist and an exceedingly underrated composer. This piece was premiered in 1995 by the Colorado Symphony Orchestra with Mr. Hill conducting. It is scored for brass, timpani, and percussion. There are four movements entitled Fanfare, Invention, Aire, and Dance of Ecstasy. It begins with a brass fanfare which is thoroughly invigorating. Some individuals that I have spoken with compare the fanfare with Copland’s Fanfare For the Common Man. Those individuals do not listen very closely to what they are hearing. It is very different. The second movement is an invention in the style of J.S. Bach, and it demonstrates, incredibly, how one skilled composer can begin an invention subject in the percussion and carry it around the ensemble which includes brass instruments (rhythm to sound). This invention is almost humorous, and it is totally delightful to listen to. It reminded me very much of one of John Cage’s Imaginary Landscapes (I think, Nr. 2). It had a very ambulatory sound, in which one could imagine bizarre machines moving and walking across a landscape. The third movement, Aire, was lyrical and honeyed with very subtle rhythmic jabs. It made great use of ninth and thirteenth chords. The fourth movement, Dance of Ecstasy, was energetic but flowing, and used to study ostinato in the bass drum and tuba. The rhythmic complexities were quite reminiscent of Stravinsky. I would love to hear this piece performed more often.
The last work on the program was a Mandolin Concerto by the young, but very gifted composer, Chris Thile. This young man is without a doubt the finest mandolin player I have ever heard. There is no question that he belongs in front of a concert audience. His concerto was excellent, especially considering it was his first work for a symphony orchestra. The first movement, a March, a Waltz, and a Jig, was a very complex work with very persistent rhythm and an astounding amount of very fast finger work, which must have been exhausting. There was excellent writing for the woodwind section. The Waltz truly exhibited what a mandolin in the right hands (no pun intended) is capable of. Thile made the instrument soar. It was very harp-like. The cadenza to this movement was breathtaking, because one could finally hear some solo work from the mandolin. I say “finally hear” because the mandolin is a relatively soft instrument, and all the detail work, and technical facility which this young man possesses, became very obvious – and that is what a cadenza is supposed to do. The second movement, Air on the F Train, was very lyrical and had a pleading quality that was almost mournful. The third movement, entitled The Fifth Glass, was full of drive and contrapuntal imitation. What was impressive was that this movement showed the depth of understanding of what a symphony orchestra is capable of, and that is unusual from a composer who has just written his first orchestral piece. I am convinced that we shall hear more of Chris Thile. There followed several encores which were truly earned.
Filed under: Reviews | Tags: Aaron Janse, Alpenglow Festival, Chausson, Danielle Farina, Edward Aaron, Jesse Mills, Kyung Sun Lee, Mendelssohn, Rieko Aizawa, Turina
For 12 years, the Alpenglow Chamber Music Festival has been presented in Summit County, namely Silverthorne, Dillon, Frisco, and this year, Breckenridge. Their program book reads, and I quote, “In absolute terms, the Alpenglow Chamber Festival is one the best music festivals in America. If you haven’t yet attended this festival you are missing an extraordinary musical experience.” Those two sentences represent remarkable understatement. It is dumbfounding to me how such a remarkable group of musicians has escaped the notice of the press in Colorado, not to mention major recording companies.
The group is comprised of Artistic Director, Edward Aaron, who is the cellist and also the Artistic Director of the Metropolitan Museum Artists in Concert. The pianist is Rieko Aizawa, Jesse Mills, violin, Kyung Sun Lee, violin, Danielle Farina, viola, and Aaron Janse, viola and violin. All of these individuals have performed worldwide, had training at the world’s best musical institutions, and teach at fine schools. All of them are capable of performing chamber music that covers the entire repertoire of music history.
The program on Saturday, September 19, was performed at the new Colorado Mountain College campus just a mile or two north of Breckenridge. It opened with Joaquin Turina’s Scene Andalouse for Viola, Piano and String Quartet, Opus 7. Joaquin Turina (1882-1949) was born in Seville, and was trained at the Schola Cantorum in Paris. There, he studied with Vincent d’Indy. It was natural for Turina to be influenced and inspired by Spanish folk music, and he did have some contact with Manuel de Falla, though the strongest influence probably was Debussy. In this composition there are two movements depicting a scene that begins in the evening and ending with the movement entitled At The Window, which is a serenade to the beloved. Though the first movement opens with a piano solo, the viola is truly the solo instrument, for this work is really a concerto for viola and small chamber ensemble. Danielle Farina was the violist, and produced an absolutely lovely sound which was lush and warm. The tempo of the first movement is relatively rapid, but is interrupted by a habanera which is quite languorous. The second movement is reminiscent of a dialogue between two people – no doubt the lovers, one of whom is being serenaded. The second movement also repeats some of the themes from the first movement. Ms. Farina is such an accomplished musician that I will be forever spoiled hearing this work performed again. She was so mentally relaxed in her performance, and yet so musically attuned, that she easily brought the audience into the intimate surroundings that the composer created. I have heard this chamber group many times, and I am always impressed with the great ease with which they play together.
The second work on the program was Felix Mendelssohn’s String Quintet in A Major, Opus 18. As I have said before, when many people think of musical prodigies they always think of Mozart. But in many instances, I think Mendelssohn’s precociousness surpassed even Mozart’s. Mendelssohn was a virtuoso pianist, a virtuoso violinist, a virtuoso conductor, and a virtuoso composer. He was also a very fine painter and artist. He traveled often, and sent home illustrations to his family of the places he had visited and seen. They are most remarkable. This quintet was written when he was 17 years old in 1826, just a short time after he completed his famous Octet. Indeed, I am quite sure, though I have not closely examined the score, that there are melodic snippets that come from the Octet. This quintet is remarkably difficult, and it was abundantly clear throughout this work that the performers are virtuosos themselves. I do not say that lightly. The tempo of the first movement was perfect and the sound very well balanced. The ease with which these performers play together reminded me of the Budapest Quartet of years ago. Their entrances in the second movement, an expression of grief, were so smooth and so precise that it simply could not have been better. The pizzicatos at the end of the movement were absolutely together with no raggedness at all. Jesse Mills and Kyung Sun Lee were superb.
The third movement of this quintet is a fugue where Mendelssohn indicates: Scherzo: Allegro di Molto. The tempo that these chamber players took was unbelievable. I have heard lesser chamber groups attempt this piece, and the problem is that many times two individuals are clearly superior to the rest of the group. Since this movement is a fugue, those exceptional players have to make adjustments for the other three, and sometimes it is obvious that the other three are struggling. That simply did not happen with the Alpenglow Chamber Players. I meant what I said above, that these individuals are all equal and all virtuosos. When it came time for the next fugal entrance, they just smiled at each other and got to work, and, I might add, they got to work with incredible joy. It has been a very long time since I have seen a chamber group have such a good time performing with each other, in spite of the fact that they were playing their brains out. The fourth movement has a certain inevitable and irrevocable feel about it: as if one stood in the way, it would run them down. Even at the age of 17, Mendelssohn had to have been smiling with satisfaction as he wrote the final measure of this movement. I can guarantee you that this group made his music smile.
After the intermission, the Alpenglow Chamber Players performed the Concerto in D Major for Violin, Piano and String Quartet, Opus 21, by Ernest Chausson. Many critics have worried themselves to death trying to classify this piece of chamber music. It is unusual, but I have never understood why people don’t just accept what Chausson says and be done with it. The work does call for two violins, so in this instance, the superb Aaron Janse but his viola aside and became the second violinist in this piece. It is a beautiful work with a very declamatory opening of three big octaves which the work is based on and which reappear in the final movement. The introduction is lengthy but out of it grows the ethereal first theme. Jesse Mills was the soloist in this work (and by the way, he is married to the pianist of the group, Rieko Aizawa), and the tone of his violin was something to hear. It really was both ethereal and wraithlike, while the piano has arpeggio after arpeggio. The second movement is a sicilienne which is a flowing dance movement from the Baroque. Mills gave the piece and uncommon grace and mellifluousness. The third movement was very emotional and had some perfect double stops. The last movement is absolutely playful, and I have to say that Rieko Aizawa gave this movement the same kind of gracefulness and ease that I have long associated with Menahem Pressler. Jesse Mills exhibited the same virtuosity in this movement as he did in the Mendelssohn.
I realize that many readers will say, cynically, that the performance had to have some problems, so I will introduce two to keep those individuals happy. The piano could have been voiced – the upper register was too bright and sounded a little like breaking glass. Also, the programs could have been more carefully proofread.
All through this article I have referred to this group as the Alpenglow Chamber Players. The problem is, even though I have heard this group several times, I do not know if that is their official name. My point is this: they should decide on a name, and I think Alpenglow Chamber Players is a fine one, and then pursue recordings and more performances wherever they can find them. This group performs so well together, and they are clearly having such a wonderful time doing it, that they truly could become as well-known as the aforementioned Budapest Quartet, the old Juilliard Quartet, or the Beaux-Arts Trio. If anyone out there thinks that this is an exaggeration, come to the Alpenglow Festival, buy their recordings, and just listen and listen and listen. You will be amazed.
Filed under: Commentary | Tags: Alfred Einstein, Copland, David Mullikin, Debussy, Luis Gonzalez, Schoenberg, Stravinsky, William Hill
Quite often I have students ask me why serious music is not being written today. They are very surprised when I tell them that there are many composers throughout the entire world who write serious music all the time, and I try to explain to them that serious music today is in a sorry state of affairs. I have written about this many times before not only on this blog site, but also in previous articles for various news publications.
Part of the issue lies with composers themselves, because after the turn of the 20th century, many composers retreated to universities where they composed and taught composition. Their “retreat” was principally caused by three phenomena. Throughout history, composers have existed on commissions. While composers still depend on commissions, none of them receive commissions to the extent which composers received before 1900 or even 1880. Today it is virtually impossible for a composer to exist solely on commissions. The second phenomenon is the almost obligatory subservience of orchestra conductors, certainly in the United States, to their boards. Orchestra boards are aware, even subconsciously, that new music often will not sell. Therefore they are afraid to allow their conductors to program new music for fear the public will not buy tickets. The third phenomenon is conservative critics who are journalists (and not musicians) that have too much influence and are therefore believed by the public.
The musical arts have always been the slowest to change. I have no good explanation for that, but every time a new style or technique of composition emerges, it is often shunned by the public (and some musicians) for several years. Sometimes, the premiere of a new work causes a violent reaction. Witness the premiere of Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring and Debussy’s Jeux and the famous riot that ensued. And of course, the reaction against Arnold Schoenberg and his 12 tone scale. Even some super conservative composers (Webster Young comes to mind) still think that its atonality can be compared to abstractionism in art, and therefore since abstract art has no meaning (!), atonal music has no meaning. In fact, there are many composers who blame the atonality of the 12 tone scale for the lack of audiences at concerts whenever a new piece of music is performed.
It is certainly true that in the 20th century, composers began exploring all kinds of new music because there had been 400 years of major and minor scales and they wanted something new. In addition, they thought major and minor was used up. It is very similar to the situation at the end of the Renaissance and the beginning of the Baroque, when major and minor emerged from the church modes. Many composers at that time rebelled against the new. And of course, newspaper critics have always had a very strong influence on the course an orchestra may take, what a composer writes, and the critic’s strong statement of how he thinks the public should react, rather than allowing the public to react without his influence. One of the best examples of this is the book written by music critic Henry Pleasants entitled The Agony of Modern Music. In it, Pleasants says that because composers today are not following old traditions, but instead striking out for new material, that Western music has come to an end. Pleasants blames composers (and some conservative composers have agreed with him) for becoming individuals and without a general movement to fall back on, their iconoclastic styles have destroyed the art.
It certainly is true that there are many styles of music existing today. Even in 1941, the musicologist, Alfred Einstein (not Albert Einstein), in his book, Greatness in Music, blames the multiplicity of styles for the lack of a single composer that can be called “great.” Einstein says that modern music has no commonality of practice and because of that lack, there is no technique for composers to refine in the way that Mozart refined the Sonata form, for example. He completely ignores the fact that composers can refine their own style, and that composers are not obligated to refine or follow each other’s style or innovation. Einstein strongly implies that composers can only become great if they have reached a zenith that is the culmination of a style that has been created before them. Apparently, Einstein, and many critics of today think that composers cannot create something that is entirely new, and then be called great.
There are many critics, and composers alike, who seem alarmed that no single composer (maybe two?) has emerged from the multitude who can be called great. I, for one, see no problem with this at all. Every serious musician has his own way of defining what is great, and it is wrong headed of critics and the most conservative composers to arrive at hard and fast rules for the definition of great. In that regard, critics have too great an influence on the public. In the last twenty years, the public has been so poorly educated on the subject of music that it has become fearful of even understanding it.
I have never understood why critics, and some musicians, and some super conservative composers have decried the abandonment of the past musical practices – they call it destruction – in modern music. One would think that their understanding of the fact that Classical period (1750-1810) forms were radically changed or abandoned in the Romantic period (1800-1900) would influence their outlook on music of the 20th century. And I would think that their realization, for example, that Beethoven’s influence on music and its style was so individual, that it is not a stretch to say that he was an iconoclast. Today, there are many people who do not care for the exploratory music of John Cage. That’s okay, but no one can deny that he has had a profound effect on the music and composers of the 20th Century.
In the Boulder/Denver area, there are three composers that stand far above the rest. They are David Mullikin, who I would classify as fairly conservative, Luis Jorge Gonzalez, who is moderate, and William Hill, who I would classify as cutting edge. All three of these composers have a great deal to say as composers, and I admire their music very much. They rely on the past only because they understand it so very well, and that understanding guides and drives them to something new. It is a terrible shame that so many orchestras and the concert going public make it so difficult for their music to be heard. I find it very disturbing that articles such as this still need to be written.
***
P.S. In the September 18, 2009, edition of the Denver Post, Kyle MacMillan has proven his incompetency as a music reviewer by not discussing two works performed by the Colorado Symphony Orchestra in the concert that he is writing about. First, was a piece by William Hill entitled Four Moments Musical, and second, Aaron Copland’s suite from Billy the Kid. It is clear that he does not know how important these pieces are, and that he does not possess the ability to write about them, nor does he realize the disservice done to the composers. This is a frighteningly good example of the above paragraphs.
