Thursday 15 July 2010
Wednesday 21 April 2010
Bach and Beyond Review: Macarthur Chronicle
Although we are so often saturated with Bach in the aftermath of Easter, it is a great joy to bask in a musical offering this beautifully constructed.
In one of their more intriguing concert programm in recent memory, the Australian Chamber Orchestra under Richard Tognetti enrich and juxtapose their selection of Bach sacred vocal works with 20th century compositions laid at the altar of the master.
These were structured as an imaginary conversation between old and new expressions of spirituality through music, boldly interspersing movements of Bach’s Missa Brevis with pieces of striking contrast.
The densely complex G minor Gloria dissolves into the transcendent stillness of Arvo Part’s Summa in the same key, the latter played with the luminous calm so captivating in the Estonian composer’s style.
British composer Diana Burrell surely ought to be silenced in a conversation presided over by Bach. The prelude and fugue structure of Das Meer (The Sea) was lost in an indistinct mass of sound, while her gestural, aggressive string writing sounded little more than an oft-exploited bag of tricks.
Schoenbergs lush Litany, arranged for soprano and string orchestra, revealed Sara Macliver to be hair-raisingly good in expressionist repertoire, where her signature sparkling tone, so suited to early music, took on darker hues and even greater dramatic intensity.
As part of the concert’s vocal quartet, Macliver soared over the ACO in the compelling cantus firmus movement of the early cantata Wo gehest du hin?
The intimacy of Bach’s choral music performed with one singer per part (as some musicological research suggests is the approach Bach may have taken) provides an achingly beautiful counterpoint to the ACO’s intonation, playing as pristinely as if they were one instrument per part.
I always enjoy hearing Fiona Campbell and Sara Macliver together in Pinchgut Opera productions; here Campbell’s precision, flexibility and elegance shines throughout the cantata’s alto aria, in which singer and players laugh together in buoyant semiquaver passages. Visiting English tenor and baritone Andrew Staples and Matthew Brook complete a well-balanced ensemble.
This laughter lightened the largely somber sacred tone of the program, as did the Shostakovich Polka, the ACO’s pizzicato spring-loaded with wickedly sharp bite.
Melissa Lesnie | Macarthur Chronicle | 21 Apr 2010
In one of their more intriguing concert programm in recent memory, the Australian Chamber Orchestra under Richard Tognetti enrich and juxtapose their selection of Bach sacred vocal works with 20th century compositions laid at the altar of the master.
These were structured as an imaginary conversation between old and new expressions of spirituality through music, boldly interspersing movements of Bach’s Missa Brevis with pieces of striking contrast.
The densely complex G minor Gloria dissolves into the transcendent stillness of Arvo Part’s Summa in the same key, the latter played with the luminous calm so captivating in the Estonian composer’s style.
British composer Diana Burrell surely ought to be silenced in a conversation presided over by Bach. The prelude and fugue structure of Das Meer (The Sea) was lost in an indistinct mass of sound, while her gestural, aggressive string writing sounded little more than an oft-exploited bag of tricks.
Schoenbergs lush Litany, arranged for soprano and string orchestra, revealed Sara Macliver to be hair-raisingly good in expressionist repertoire, where her signature sparkling tone, so suited to early music, took on darker hues and even greater dramatic intensity.
As part of the concert’s vocal quartet, Macliver soared over the ACO in the compelling cantus firmus movement of the early cantata Wo gehest du hin?
The intimacy of Bach’s choral music performed with one singer per part (as some musicological research suggests is the approach Bach may have taken) provides an achingly beautiful counterpoint to the ACO’s intonation, playing as pristinely as if they were one instrument per part.
I always enjoy hearing Fiona Campbell and Sara Macliver together in Pinchgut Opera productions; here Campbell’s precision, flexibility and elegance shines throughout the cantata’s alto aria, in which singer and players laugh together in buoyant semiquaver passages. Visiting English tenor and baritone Andrew Staples and Matthew Brook complete a well-balanced ensemble.
This laughter lightened the largely somber sacred tone of the program, as did the Shostakovich Polka, the ACO’s pizzicato spring-loaded with wickedly sharp bite.
Melissa Lesnie | Macarthur Chronicle | 21 Apr 2010
Tuesday 20 April 2010
Musical roller-coaster ride with Mr Tognetti
You and I may not always approve of ACO supremo Richard Tognetti's programming choices, but we must agree that he usually makes us think as well as listen.
He interpolated movements by three 20th century composers into three works by the greatest composer who ever lived, the unfailingly inventive Johann Sebastian Bach.
Shostakovitch's sardonic, funny Polka and self-pitying Elegy, segued to JSB's Missa Brevis in G minor BWV 235. Hardly had we settled into wondering at the phenomenally well-matched vocal quartet of Sara Macliver, Fiona Campbell, Andrew Staples and Matthew Brook when in came Arvo Part's pretentiously titled, slow, same-noted Summa.
The energy balloon was pricked, but immediately reinflated by the exuberant Gloria and the unalloyed delight of arias from bass Brook and mezzo Campbell. Schoenberg at his darkest in Litanei from String Quartet No 2 almost earned a place by virtue of Macliver's impassioned delivery of the soul in torment over love betrayed.
Back to the irresistible pleading of tenor Staples to have mercy on all us lowly sinners, enhanced by Shefali Pryor's ever-loving oboe, and the glorious melismas of the Missa's final chorus.
After interval, Bach's motet Lobet den Herrn BWV 230 was uninterrupted, one voice to a part, and heard with the clarity intended by its creator.
Acclaimed British composer Diana Burrell's tone poem Das Meer (1992) gave way to the Bach's Cantata Wo gehest du hin? BWV 166. From the opening query by eloquent bass Brook, it flowed, thankfully uninterrupted, through solos to the final chorale and prayer.
Although I did not approve of Tognetti's adventure, I will fight to the death for his right to take us along with him.
Elizabeth Silsbury | Adelaide Advertiser | 17 Apr 2010
He interpolated movements by three 20th century composers into three works by the greatest composer who ever lived, the unfailingly inventive Johann Sebastian Bach.
Shostakovitch's sardonic, funny Polka and self-pitying Elegy, segued to JSB's Missa Brevis in G minor BWV 235. Hardly had we settled into wondering at the phenomenally well-matched vocal quartet of Sara Macliver, Fiona Campbell, Andrew Staples and Matthew Brook when in came Arvo Part's pretentiously titled, slow, same-noted Summa.
The energy balloon was pricked, but immediately reinflated by the exuberant Gloria and the unalloyed delight of arias from bass Brook and mezzo Campbell. Schoenberg at his darkest in Litanei from String Quartet No 2 almost earned a place by virtue of Macliver's impassioned delivery of the soul in torment over love betrayed.
Back to the irresistible pleading of tenor Staples to have mercy on all us lowly sinners, enhanced by Shefali Pryor's ever-loving oboe, and the glorious melismas of the Missa's final chorus.
After interval, Bach's motet Lobet den Herrn BWV 230 was uninterrupted, one voice to a part, and heard with the clarity intended by its creator.
Acclaimed British composer Diana Burrell's tone poem Das Meer (1992) gave way to the Bach's Cantata Wo gehest du hin? BWV 166. From the opening query by eloquent bass Brook, it flowed, thankfully uninterrupted, through solos to the final chorale and prayer.
Although I did not approve of Tognetti's adventure, I will fight to the death for his right to take us along with him.
Elizabeth Silsbury | Adelaide Advertiser | 17 Apr 2010
Bach and Beyond Review - Australian Stage
What lyrical wax can one wipe on to the ACO that hasn't been already applied, not least by my good self? Quite simply, and unequivocally, it has to be one of the finest small orchestras on Earth, and I wouldn't be at all surprised, if one were to do a an exhaustive comparison, that the very same would prevail. ACO, ACO, ACO; oi, oi oi! but enough of my crass superlatives. Bach & Beyond is characteristic of the savvy of the ACO, in hooking their gentrified loyalist audience with Bach as bait, then slipping some challenging classical hardcore into the programme. In this way, without being in any way patronising, the ACO takes their disciples along with them, almost hanging on every note. They're intent on broadening our horizons, coaxing us out of our conservatism and complacency; qualities that tend to be, let's face it, endemic, if not epidemic. So, it's not just a good thing. It's a great thing.
And the ride is always thrilling. Indeed, it's the fact that the ACO itself seems so thrilled to be playing the work that makes it so for us. And it's not the instruments that make it so special, as special as the instruments (such as a 1759 Guadagnini violin) may be. It's the hands that play them. And the passion in the hearts that pump blood to those hands.
Just as we might hang on every note, the musicians watch intently for every gesture by their artistic director. These can be subtle, no doubt, as the maestro is so vigorously engaged in playing, himself. It lends a theatrical dimension to the performance. In the kind of slightly naughty, deliberately perverse, schoolboyish kind of way that's accounted for freaky haircuts and other small statements of individuality amongst the orchestra, Tognetti announced a programme deviation at the last-minute. 'Damn! Too late to cancel now.' So we get a little Shostakovich with our Bach.
Dmitri might have a rather more daunting surname than Johann, but he writes a mean Elegy. It is pregnant with melancholy, without ever succumbing to self-indulgent, unrelenting mournfulness; more a lament, perhaps, than anything else. I understand he composed it in a mere three days, whereas it sounds so hauntingly, achingly beautiful I would've easily believed three years. He wrote it, too, for string quartet, so this was a somewhat more expansive, spacious arrangement: eight violins, three violas, two oboes, bassoon, bass and three celli. It's in five movements, albeit continuous, and is in the minor key of C. In an orgy of personal plagiarism, he quotes liberally from earlier compositions, which has biographical significance, as these excerpts tend to refer to works which are very much markers for significant events in his life. This, of course, lends added poignancy. (By the way, the piece is also commonly known as Adagio, so don't be confused by any conflicting nomenclature.) Tognetti and co bring to it a tangible, almost prayerful respect, that truly evinces the very best from an exceptionally elegant, moving work.
But, of course, Mr T tricked us and insisted on reversing the programmatic polarity, playing Shostakovich's curious Polka first; a piece bordering on sarcastic, of not downright so. What was the method in Shostakovich's madness and cynicism? Let's put it in context. The polka was from the second act of his most popular ballet, The Age Of Gold. The scene for which the polka was written depicts a meeting of the League Of Nations. Enough said. If your musical tastes are broad, and extend to the coarseness of pop, you might even know it as Once Upon A Time In Geneva. Clearly, it's intent isn't lost on the ACO, who tilt it steeply towards its comical dissonance and dissidence. It threatens to descend into anarchy and that very threat, of danger and menace, makes it all the more exhilirating. This is the art of the ACO: to capture and distil the essence of what the composer had in mind; thorough research and visceral playing gets them there.
After being jolted from any soporific, post-prandial stasis by the Polka, then seduced into sadness by the Elegy, we were rewarded with a rich rendition of Bach's short mass; in other words, Missa Brevis (G Minor). That a devout Lutheran should involve himself in a musical phenomenon so inextricable from the Roman church might seem remarkable but, apparently, and somewhat against the grain of conventional wisdom, the liturgical distinctions, at least at the time, weren't all that great. In any case, with this mass in particular, Bach really goes for it, showing the full extent of his vocabulary & breathtaking compositional dexterity. But it's more than purely a showcase for an incorrigible showoff. It's satisfying, in the substantial way of a hearty German meal. All the moreso, once again, when delivered by the ACO. I hardly need to labour the point, or elaborate on the ACO's capabilities when it comes to Bach, as Tognetti alone has been much-lauded in that respect. A shining sidelight to this selection is that it brings together a quartet of superlative singers: two from Australia and two from Britain.
Sara Macliver is God's, and Australia's, gift to baroque. She's an enthusiast and is everywhere, including, regularly, alongside all our symphony orchestras. Better yet, she's no stranger to Bach's masses, or anything else, for that matter. If JS himself had chosen a soprano, he couldn't have gone past her: her voice as crisp, clean, clear and pure as driven snow. Similarly, her countrywoman, Fiona Campbell, who fulfilled the roles of mezzo-soprano and alto, as required, never struggles to assert her strong, warm timbre over the instruments. She's a second jewel in the crown of Australian vocal performance and is also at home and adept with JSB's hits and masses.
The blokes (or chaps, given they hail from the mother country) were animated; especially Matthew Brook (bass), whose delivery is assertive; commanding, even. Andrew Staples, tenor, sang as a chorister in St. Pauls, before winning a scholarship to Kings College, and he still looks the part, with his wide-eyed, youthful innocence. With his bright, lively tone, his & Macliver's, particularly, was a vocal marriage made in heaven.
The singers were all the more impressive for the fact they were charged with the daunting task of singing music commonly assigned to a much larger choir. There was certainly no sense of missing parts; far from it, their individual and collective clarity and precision was most edifying.
As with Shostakovich (how this typist wish he had a nickname), Bach's mass reprises much of his earlier works, without the slightest apology or self-consciousness. In many ways, it accentuates and underscores his talents for composition and arrangement, in the reworking. The result is, in short, consummate; Calvin Bowman's organ contributing in no small measure (dare I say, he knows the composer Bach-to-front).
In the 'conversation', of which Tognetti made much in pre-concert remarks, the next bold stroke was to interpolate Estonian composer, Arvo Part, who was happy, it seems, to kiss the hem of Bach's garment. His Summa, apart from being mercifully compact and eloquent by classical standards, is the very quintessence of elegant minimalism: there is nothing extraneous, superfluous or needlessly ornamental in this profound and sublime piece, which the ACO honours with the urmost, restraint, integrity and dignity. Tognetti's apparent penchant for sostenuto & talent for intuiting as well as expressing, the arc and depth of emotion required, assisted greatly the reading and evocation of contemplative, mystical melody. I imagine it's the solemnity of the work which RT hears as paying homage to and being in reverent dialogue with Bach's religious music.
Schoenberg's Litany, the slow third movement from his second (of four) string quartet(s), was imbued, by the ACO & the shattering vocals of Macliver, with all the blueness the text ('deep is the sadness that gloomily comes over me') demands (Schoenberg seems as concerned with as any poet). The strings shone throughout, too. There was some notably invigorated playing from assistant leader, violinist Satu Vanska.
Another glass of wine at interval, and we were launched into a fugal Bach motet; Lobet den Herrn. Since the ACO had employed, whether for fiscal or musical reasons, the smallest possible, one-voice-per-part, SATB choir, the very appearance of this work on the programme rekindles a now decades-old debate: how many voices were their in Bach's choir? Whatever the correct answer, this ensemble proved they had it covered with, I'd venture to reflect, the Aussie sheilas outshining and overpowering the Brit blokes. Not that it's a competition, but if there were orchestral ashes, we might well claim those, too.
Diana Burrell's 'Das Meer' needs no translation. From its first bars, one can hear the thundering roar and unforgiving tempest of the ocean. As with the preceding motet, it takes a (prelude and) fugal form; this, from a Norwich-born composer. And, as with the earlier mass, it borrows, textually, from the Lutheran bible. As much a musical painting as anything else, it ebbs, flows and swells as does the tide, in lunar servitude, mimicking the servitude of man, to God, as in Bach's momentous, ordered genuflection. The ACO embraces Burrell's accentuated dynamics with gusto, rising to the very considerable challenge of this 'players' music. All seafaring creatures great and small, flotillas of notes, danger and principal cellist, Timo, seemed utterly immersed. Stupendous!
The comfort and familiarity of JSB's Cantata posed the eternal, existential, almost unanswerable question, 'where are you going?'. It might have been written by Jean-Paul Sartre, if it hadn't been by an unknown poet, long before. It turns the reported words of Jesus on their head: a surprisingly radical move by the cantor of St. Thomas (Bach), in Leipzig, in the first quarter of the 18th-century. The opening bass aria drives home the brevity of the libretto brilliantly.
Obviously, Bach was, and is, the robust backbone of this tour. But Bach would be the backbone of any tour on which he appears. Bach has bite. But the programme was, as is typical of ACO determinations, made vital, interesting, even confronting, with the likes of Shostakovich, Part, Schoenberg and Burrell, whose music is deserving of more attention. And there's no small orchestral outfit better-prepared, equipped, or endowed, to bring it to our attention. Bach & potent text are the pervasive themes of this tour. Textual healing, perhaps?
Lloyd Bradford Syke | Australian Stage | 19 Apr 2010
And the ride is always thrilling. Indeed, it's the fact that the ACO itself seems so thrilled to be playing the work that makes it so for us. And it's not the instruments that make it so special, as special as the instruments (such as a 1759 Guadagnini violin) may be. It's the hands that play them. And the passion in the hearts that pump blood to those hands.
Just as we might hang on every note, the musicians watch intently for every gesture by their artistic director. These can be subtle, no doubt, as the maestro is so vigorously engaged in playing, himself. It lends a theatrical dimension to the performance. In the kind of slightly naughty, deliberately perverse, schoolboyish kind of way that's accounted for freaky haircuts and other small statements of individuality amongst the orchestra, Tognetti announced a programme deviation at the last-minute. 'Damn! Too late to cancel now.' So we get a little Shostakovich with our Bach.
Dmitri might have a rather more daunting surname than Johann, but he writes a mean Elegy. It is pregnant with melancholy, without ever succumbing to self-indulgent, unrelenting mournfulness; more a lament, perhaps, than anything else. I understand he composed it in a mere three days, whereas it sounds so hauntingly, achingly beautiful I would've easily believed three years. He wrote it, too, for string quartet, so this was a somewhat more expansive, spacious arrangement: eight violins, three violas, two oboes, bassoon, bass and three celli. It's in five movements, albeit continuous, and is in the minor key of C. In an orgy of personal plagiarism, he quotes liberally from earlier compositions, which has biographical significance, as these excerpts tend to refer to works which are very much markers for significant events in his life. This, of course, lends added poignancy. (By the way, the piece is also commonly known as Adagio, so don't be confused by any conflicting nomenclature.) Tognetti and co bring to it a tangible, almost prayerful respect, that truly evinces the very best from an exceptionally elegant, moving work.
But, of course, Mr T tricked us and insisted on reversing the programmatic polarity, playing Shostakovich's curious Polka first; a piece bordering on sarcastic, of not downright so. What was the method in Shostakovich's madness and cynicism? Let's put it in context. The polka was from the second act of his most popular ballet, The Age Of Gold. The scene for which the polka was written depicts a meeting of the League Of Nations. Enough said. If your musical tastes are broad, and extend to the coarseness of pop, you might even know it as Once Upon A Time In Geneva. Clearly, it's intent isn't lost on the ACO, who tilt it steeply towards its comical dissonance and dissidence. It threatens to descend into anarchy and that very threat, of danger and menace, makes it all the more exhilirating. This is the art of the ACO: to capture and distil the essence of what the composer had in mind; thorough research and visceral playing gets them there.
After being jolted from any soporific, post-prandial stasis by the Polka, then seduced into sadness by the Elegy, we were rewarded with a rich rendition of Bach's short mass; in other words, Missa Brevis (G Minor). That a devout Lutheran should involve himself in a musical phenomenon so inextricable from the Roman church might seem remarkable but, apparently, and somewhat against the grain of conventional wisdom, the liturgical distinctions, at least at the time, weren't all that great. In any case, with this mass in particular, Bach really goes for it, showing the full extent of his vocabulary & breathtaking compositional dexterity. But it's more than purely a showcase for an incorrigible showoff. It's satisfying, in the substantial way of a hearty German meal. All the moreso, once again, when delivered by the ACO. I hardly need to labour the point, or elaborate on the ACO's capabilities when it comes to Bach, as Tognetti alone has been much-lauded in that respect. A shining sidelight to this selection is that it brings together a quartet of superlative singers: two from Australia and two from Britain.
Sara Macliver is God's, and Australia's, gift to baroque. She's an enthusiast and is everywhere, including, regularly, alongside all our symphony orchestras. Better yet, she's no stranger to Bach's masses, or anything else, for that matter. If JS himself had chosen a soprano, he couldn't have gone past her: her voice as crisp, clean, clear and pure as driven snow. Similarly, her countrywoman, Fiona Campbell, who fulfilled the roles of mezzo-soprano and alto, as required, never struggles to assert her strong, warm timbre over the instruments. She's a second jewel in the crown of Australian vocal performance and is also at home and adept with JSB's hits and masses.
The blokes (or chaps, given they hail from the mother country) were animated; especially Matthew Brook (bass), whose delivery is assertive; commanding, even. Andrew Staples, tenor, sang as a chorister in St. Pauls, before winning a scholarship to Kings College, and he still looks the part, with his wide-eyed, youthful innocence. With his bright, lively tone, his & Macliver's, particularly, was a vocal marriage made in heaven.
The singers were all the more impressive for the fact they were charged with the daunting task of singing music commonly assigned to a much larger choir. There was certainly no sense of missing parts; far from it, their individual and collective clarity and precision was most edifying.
As with Shostakovich (how this typist wish he had a nickname), Bach's mass reprises much of his earlier works, without the slightest apology or self-consciousness. In many ways, it accentuates and underscores his talents for composition and arrangement, in the reworking. The result is, in short, consummate; Calvin Bowman's organ contributing in no small measure (dare I say, he knows the composer Bach-to-front).
In the 'conversation', of which Tognetti made much in pre-concert remarks, the next bold stroke was to interpolate Estonian composer, Arvo Part, who was happy, it seems, to kiss the hem of Bach's garment. His Summa, apart from being mercifully compact and eloquent by classical standards, is the very quintessence of elegant minimalism: there is nothing extraneous, superfluous or needlessly ornamental in this profound and sublime piece, which the ACO honours with the urmost, restraint, integrity and dignity. Tognetti's apparent penchant for sostenuto & talent for intuiting as well as expressing, the arc and depth of emotion required, assisted greatly the reading and evocation of contemplative, mystical melody. I imagine it's the solemnity of the work which RT hears as paying homage to and being in reverent dialogue with Bach's religious music.
Schoenberg's Litany, the slow third movement from his second (of four) string quartet(s), was imbued, by the ACO & the shattering vocals of Macliver, with all the blueness the text ('deep is the sadness that gloomily comes over me') demands (Schoenberg seems as concerned with as any poet). The strings shone throughout, too. There was some notably invigorated playing from assistant leader, violinist Satu Vanska.
Another glass of wine at interval, and we were launched into a fugal Bach motet; Lobet den Herrn. Since the ACO had employed, whether for fiscal or musical reasons, the smallest possible, one-voice-per-part, SATB choir, the very appearance of this work on the programme rekindles a now decades-old debate: how many voices were their in Bach's choir? Whatever the correct answer, this ensemble proved they had it covered with, I'd venture to reflect, the Aussie sheilas outshining and overpowering the Brit blokes. Not that it's a competition, but if there were orchestral ashes, we might well claim those, too.
Diana Burrell's 'Das Meer' needs no translation. From its first bars, one can hear the thundering roar and unforgiving tempest of the ocean. As with the preceding motet, it takes a (prelude and) fugal form; this, from a Norwich-born composer. And, as with the earlier mass, it borrows, textually, from the Lutheran bible. As much a musical painting as anything else, it ebbs, flows and swells as does the tide, in lunar servitude, mimicking the servitude of man, to God, as in Bach's momentous, ordered genuflection. The ACO embraces Burrell's accentuated dynamics with gusto, rising to the very considerable challenge of this 'players' music. All seafaring creatures great and small, flotillas of notes, danger and principal cellist, Timo, seemed utterly immersed. Stupendous!
The comfort and familiarity of JSB's Cantata posed the eternal, existential, almost unanswerable question, 'where are you going?'. It might have been written by Jean-Paul Sartre, if it hadn't been by an unknown poet, long before. It turns the reported words of Jesus on their head: a surprisingly radical move by the cantor of St. Thomas (Bach), in Leipzig, in the first quarter of the 18th-century. The opening bass aria drives home the brevity of the libretto brilliantly.
Obviously, Bach was, and is, the robust backbone of this tour. But Bach would be the backbone of any tour on which he appears. Bach has bite. But the programme was, as is typical of ACO determinations, made vital, interesting, even confronting, with the likes of Shostakovich, Part, Schoenberg and Burrell, whose music is deserving of more attention. And there's no small orchestral outfit better-prepared, equipped, or endowed, to bring it to our attention. Bach & potent text are the pervasive themes of this tour. Textual healing, perhaps?
Lloyd Bradford Syke | Australian Stage | 19 Apr 2010
Monday 19 April 2010
ACO avoids pitfalls in opening out Bach splendour - Sydney Morning Herald Review
A recent approach to concert programming that has gained some traction is to interleave the movements or sections of a canonical work by an established composer with something contemporary or relatively unknown. The theory is you strike sparks through incongruities and unlikely connections: the practice is that you sometimes violate an old art work while placing the new ones in an unfavourable context.
By intermixing Bach's Missa Brevis, BWV 235, with music by Arvo Part and Arnold Schoenberg, the Australian Chamber Orchestra avoided the pitfalls. The original context of Bach's liturgical works is strongly bound to his particular devotional mindset and historical situation and always needs some opening out in a modern concert setting and, on balance, the imported works experienced neither net gain or loss.
Setting off Part's spare, minimalist spirituality with the glorious complexity of Bach's counterpoint slightly deprived Part's textures of the stillness they seem to seek, but made a point about the range of spirituality nevertheless. While it was jarring to detach the third movement of Schoenberg's String Quartet No.2, with soprano soloist, Litany, from its original four-movement narrative context, the intensity and expressive range of Sara Macliver's searing performance of the soprano part gave this moment expressive weight. Macliver was so good in this repertoire one hopes the ACO returns to the complete quartet with her at some stage.
As for the Bach, the four excellent soloists, Macliver, Fiona Campbell, Andrew Staples and Matthew Brook, who sang both choruses and solos, brought thrilling limpid clarity to Bach's miraculously crafted textures, never more joyously than in the closing chorus, Cum Sancto Spiritu. After the interval, between Bach's Motet Lobet den Herrn and the Cantata, Wo gehest du hin?, BWV 166, came a strongly willed work by the British composer Diana Burrell, Das Meer, das so gross und weit ist, da wimmelt's ohne Zahl, und klein Tiere.
Inspired by the rhythm of tidal movements, the piece is framed with vigorous untamed rhythmic gestures, with a more static central section though still interlaced with smartingly astringent highly pitched chords.
The concert began with a Polka and Elegy by Shostakovich.
Peter McCallum | Sydney Morning Herald | 19 April 2010
By intermixing Bach's Missa Brevis, BWV 235, with music by Arvo Part and Arnold Schoenberg, the Australian Chamber Orchestra avoided the pitfalls. The original context of Bach's liturgical works is strongly bound to his particular devotional mindset and historical situation and always needs some opening out in a modern concert setting and, on balance, the imported works experienced neither net gain or loss.
Setting off Part's spare, minimalist spirituality with the glorious complexity of Bach's counterpoint slightly deprived Part's textures of the stillness they seem to seek, but made a point about the range of spirituality nevertheless. While it was jarring to detach the third movement of Schoenberg's String Quartet No.2, with soprano soloist, Litany, from its original four-movement narrative context, the intensity and expressive range of Sara Macliver's searing performance of the soprano part gave this moment expressive weight. Macliver was so good in this repertoire one hopes the ACO returns to the complete quartet with her at some stage.
As for the Bach, the four excellent soloists, Macliver, Fiona Campbell, Andrew Staples and Matthew Brook, who sang both choruses and solos, brought thrilling limpid clarity to Bach's miraculously crafted textures, never more joyously than in the closing chorus, Cum Sancto Spiritu. After the interval, between Bach's Motet Lobet den Herrn and the Cantata, Wo gehest du hin?, BWV 166, came a strongly willed work by the British composer Diana Burrell, Das Meer, das so gross und weit ist, da wimmelt's ohne Zahl, und klein Tiere.
Inspired by the rhythm of tidal movements, the piece is framed with vigorous untamed rhythmic gestures, with a more static central section though still interlaced with smartingly astringent highly pitched chords.
The concert began with a Polka and Elegy by Shostakovich.
Peter McCallum | Sydney Morning Herald | 19 April 2010
Friday 16 April 2010
Bach and Beyond Review - The West Australian
This concert, part of the Australian Chamber Orchestra's latest national tour Bach and Beyond, was remarkable for the "conversational" structure of the program, a consequence of artistic director Richard Tognetti's hitting "Shuffle" on his intellectual iPod; the use of four singers for works more often performed by a full choir; and the superlative quality of the performances.
Tognetti began by reversing the order of Shostakovich's Elegy and Polka, the former movement reaching across the centuries to form a prelude to J. S. Bach's Missa Brevis in G. After the Kyrie movement, Arvo Part's Summa for string orchestra, itself an arrangement of the composer's Credo from the Latin Mass, took the place of the Credo Bach has omitted.
The first section of the Gloria was followed by Schoenberg's hyper-romantic Litany from his String Quartet No. 2, here arranged for soprano and string orchestra; the remainder of Bach's Gloria was uninterrupted.
The second half of the concert separated Bach's motet Lobet den Herrn (Praise the Lord) and the composer's cantata Wo gehest du hin? (Where are you going?) with Diana Burrell's 1991 work for string orchestra, Das Meer, das so gross und weit ist, da wimmelt's ohne Zahl, grosse und kleine Tiere (This great and wide sea, wherein are things creeping innumerable, both small and great beasts.).
Tenor Andrew Staples and bass-baritone Matthew Brook, both from the UK, joined soprano Sara Macliver and mezzo Fiona Campbell to form a tiny SATB choir for the Bach works, and also acting as soloists.
The idea isn't new; since the 1980s, there's been fierce debate about how Bach's choir was constituted, some favouring one voice per part, others doubling. Both camps, however, agree that soloists were probably drawn from the ranks of the choir.
But minimalist performances are still few and far between. Which is a pity, as the resulting intimacy of sound and clarity of texture make both the meaning of the text and Bach's often complex polyphony less opaque.
As it did on this occasion, with Macliver and Campbell's clean phrasing, pure tone and minimal use of vibrato complementing the perhaps more extrovert yet equally historically aware approach of Staples and Brook.
This was very fine Bach singing indeed - yes, coming from a very specific performing tradition, but affecting enough to win over even the staunchest sceptics.
The ACO, enhanced in the Bach by chamber organ, oboes and bassoon, was equally convincing, Tognetti connecting with strong rhythmic elements while maintaining a flexible line and a finely nuanced sense of orchestral balance throughout.
William Yeoman | The West Australian | 16 Apr 2010
Tognetti began by reversing the order of Shostakovich's Elegy and Polka, the former movement reaching across the centuries to form a prelude to J. S. Bach's Missa Brevis in G. After the Kyrie movement, Arvo Part's Summa for string orchestra, itself an arrangement of the composer's Credo from the Latin Mass, took the place of the Credo Bach has omitted.
The first section of the Gloria was followed by Schoenberg's hyper-romantic Litany from his String Quartet No. 2, here arranged for soprano and string orchestra; the remainder of Bach's Gloria was uninterrupted.
The second half of the concert separated Bach's motet Lobet den Herrn (Praise the Lord) and the composer's cantata Wo gehest du hin? (Where are you going?) with Diana Burrell's 1991 work for string orchestra, Das Meer, das so gross und weit ist, da wimmelt's ohne Zahl, grosse und kleine Tiere (This great and wide sea, wherein are things creeping innumerable, both small and great beasts.).
Tenor Andrew Staples and bass-baritone Matthew Brook, both from the UK, joined soprano Sara Macliver and mezzo Fiona Campbell to form a tiny SATB choir for the Bach works, and also acting as soloists.
The idea isn't new; since the 1980s, there's been fierce debate about how Bach's choir was constituted, some favouring one voice per part, others doubling. Both camps, however, agree that soloists were probably drawn from the ranks of the choir.
But minimalist performances are still few and far between. Which is a pity, as the resulting intimacy of sound and clarity of texture make both the meaning of the text and Bach's often complex polyphony less opaque.
As it did on this occasion, with Macliver and Campbell's clean phrasing, pure tone and minimal use of vibrato complementing the perhaps more extrovert yet equally historically aware approach of Staples and Brook.
This was very fine Bach singing indeed - yes, coming from a very specific performing tradition, but affecting enough to win over even the staunchest sceptics.
The ACO, enhanced in the Bach by chamber organ, oboes and bassoon, was equally convincing, Tognetti connecting with strong rhythmic elements while maintaining a flexible line and a finely nuanced sense of orchestral balance throughout.
William Yeoman | The West Australian | 16 Apr 2010
Thursday 15 April 2010
Unforgettable musical power - Canberra Times review
Saturday night's concert was deeply satisfying musically, intellectually and spiritually. A number of conventions were challenged in the presentation of Shostakovich's Polka and Elegy; Arvo Part's Summa and Schoenberg's Litany from String QuartetNo.2, incorporated as part of Bach's Missa Brevis in G Minor BWV 235.
Another departure from Bach's customary setting was the decision to allocate one part to one voice in the vocal lines. These innovations stimulated an original way of listening to these musical offerings. The reverence with which both singers and instrumentalists approached the repertoire elevated the performance to a unique dimension of musical communication. In a recent interview with Rachel Kohn, Richard Tognetti confided that whenever he heard discussions searching for religious answers he would like to press a button and play the music of Bach as the best guidance for living.
In the opening Polka composed in 1931 by Shostakovich, Tognetti recreated a world in social and political upheaval, the distorted dance careering in and out of the traditional structure. The following Elegy underpinned by the exquisite trio of the second violin, viola and cello sounded as a cry of anguish. In a perfect answer to the predicament of the tortured soul, Bach's Eyrie from the Missa Brevis swept in with a chorus of comforting grace and beauty. The skill with which each singer made their entries in response to the other parts and the apparent ease with which they managed the challenge of breathing in such an exposed setting was breathtaking These four superb voices worked together spectacularly in this and the following Bach Motet: Lobet den Herren BWV230; and the Cantata, Wo gehest du hin? BWV 166.
Matthew Brooke's bass arias were sung with conviction and endearing warmth. Fiona Campbell's vocal agility and command of the melismatic passages in the alto part were united with her radiant stage presence to draw the audience into the inner layers of the vocal writing. Campbell's skill was matched by tenor Andrew Staples, weaving the subtle web of Bach's contrapuntal writing that seems to me to re-establish divine order when it is sung in such a manner.
Sara Macliver's celestially pure soprano voice explored tragic depths in the Schoenberg Litany from String Quartet No 2, which Tognetti placed before the tenor aria in the Mass. This placement was enlightened, inviting new assessment of Schoenberg's writing through comparison with the equanimity of Bach's compositional style. In an extraordinarily powerful gesture, the harrowing appeal voiced in Macliver's performance was answered by the tenor aria, Qui tollis peccata mundi, and the emotional exploration into the dark caverns of despair brought to a resolution with the final chorus.
Adding Diana Burrell's wonderful piece of writing for strings, Das Meer, das gross und weit ist, provided "vocal lines" for the instrumentalists developing musical textures to recreate a soundscape of the natural elements harmonising in worship. In the juxtaposition of 17th and 20th century settings, Richard Tognetti provided us with new and unforgettable experiences of contemplating the relationship between musical and spiritual order.
Jennifer Gall | Canberra Times | 14 Apr 2010
Another departure from Bach's customary setting was the decision to allocate one part to one voice in the vocal lines. These innovations stimulated an original way of listening to these musical offerings. The reverence with which both singers and instrumentalists approached the repertoire elevated the performance to a unique dimension of musical communication. In a recent interview with Rachel Kohn, Richard Tognetti confided that whenever he heard discussions searching for religious answers he would like to press a button and play the music of Bach as the best guidance for living.
In the opening Polka composed in 1931 by Shostakovich, Tognetti recreated a world in social and political upheaval, the distorted dance careering in and out of the traditional structure. The following Elegy underpinned by the exquisite trio of the second violin, viola and cello sounded as a cry of anguish. In a perfect answer to the predicament of the tortured soul, Bach's Eyrie from the Missa Brevis swept in with a chorus of comforting grace and beauty. The skill with which each singer made their entries in response to the other parts and the apparent ease with which they managed the challenge of breathing in such an exposed setting was breathtaking These four superb voices worked together spectacularly in this and the following Bach Motet: Lobet den Herren BWV230; and the Cantata, Wo gehest du hin? BWV 166.
Matthew Brooke's bass arias were sung with conviction and endearing warmth. Fiona Campbell's vocal agility and command of the melismatic passages in the alto part were united with her radiant stage presence to draw the audience into the inner layers of the vocal writing. Campbell's skill was matched by tenor Andrew Staples, weaving the subtle web of Bach's contrapuntal writing that seems to me to re-establish divine order when it is sung in such a manner.
Sara Macliver's celestially pure soprano voice explored tragic depths in the Schoenberg Litany from String Quartet No 2, which Tognetti placed before the tenor aria in the Mass. This placement was enlightened, inviting new assessment of Schoenberg's writing through comparison with the equanimity of Bach's compositional style. In an extraordinarily powerful gesture, the harrowing appeal voiced in Macliver's performance was answered by the tenor aria, Qui tollis peccata mundi, and the emotional exploration into the dark caverns of despair brought to a resolution with the final chorus.
Adding Diana Burrell's wonderful piece of writing for strings, Das Meer, das gross und weit ist, provided "vocal lines" for the instrumentalists developing musical textures to recreate a soundscape of the natural elements harmonising in worship. In the juxtaposition of 17th and 20th century settings, Richard Tognetti provided us with new and unforgettable experiences of contemplating the relationship between musical and spiritual order.
Jennifer Gall | Canberra Times | 14 Apr 2010
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