POULENC'S GLORIA AT LAST

Last Friday's concert was Poulenc and Mozart, the Gloria and Requiem respectively. The Mozart is always popping up one place or another, Mozart is like that, but sadly not Poulenc. The programme notes suggest the Gloria has had only one performance by the SSO and that was in 1979 which is hard to fathom or excuse. Anyway, I'm grateful for small mercies (now we're in the liturgical mood). This work, as they say, is very moi.

Exactly how I came by this work, and the world premier recording, way back when, I have no idea. It was probably for the more orgasmic Concerto for Organ that I bought my cherished vinyl (still with its outer cover, almost more cellophane than plastic) but it is the Gloria which I came to love.

The Gloria was commissioned by the Koussevitzky Foundation of the Library of Congress. Let's dwell here for a bit. Serge Koussevitzky (1874-1951) was music director on the Boston Symphony Orchestra from 1924 to 1949, and whereas that link (and who opens them?) behind the name leads you to more detail (although no mention of Poulenc and his Gloria), it is worth listing some things about this remarkable Russian born Jewish musician, composer, conductor, sponsor of fledgling artists and champion of contemporary music.

He played in the Bolshoi Theatre Orchestra having trained with the Moscow Philharmonia Society having received a scholarship having been baptised as Jews were then forbidden to live in Moscow.

He debuted as a conductor in Berlin in 1908 with Rachmaninoff playing his own second piano concerto.

He followed Pierre Monteux as chief conductor of the Boston Symphony Orchestra and eventually became an American citizen.

His Concerts Koussevitzky in Paris presented among other things new works by Stravinsky, Prokofiev and Ravel.

He was involved if not entirely instrumental (I can't find out specifics) in establishing the Tanglewood Summer Festival and shaping the BSO into America's then premier orchestra.

He created the Koussevitzky Music Foundation in honour of his deceased second wife, and would later marry her niece, wife three.

He sponsored young talent, finding Alfred Cocozza who would change his name to Mario Lanza, and guiding the early careers of Leonard Bernstein and Sarah Caldwall. (She was to remain closely bonded with Boston, and opera).

He was involved in sponsoring or encouraging one way or another Ravel's Piano Concerto in G; Ravel's arrangement of Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition; Prokofiev's 4th Symphony; Stravinsky's Symphony of Psalms; Peter Grimes; The Ballad of Baby Doe; Bartok's Concerto for Orchestra; Messiaen's Turangalila Symphony. And that's just for starters.

And in his memory the Foundation commissioned Poulenc's Gloria which premiered in Boston on January 20, 1961 with the European premiere in Paris on February 14 the same year. The first recording was made the following day with Poulenc supervising, with the Italian soprano Rosanna Carteri the soloist, and otherwise, very French.

Very Catholic though it undoubtably is, and reverent and adoring, there is a welcome lack of excessive chest beating guilt. There's no Kyrie (and therefore it is not a Mass per se) and though there is the appropriate 'miserere nobis' in the Domine deus, Agnus dei, it is, to me, a request for mercy infused with the certainty that forgiveness is a given, that the prayer is already received, with the ascending "suscipe", as steps climbed, becoming a wonderfully exotic swaying ascension to God. Rosanna Carteri is simply stunning. Perhaps contained by the great contemporaries Tebaldi and Callas, her career now looks restricted. It is a weighty voice, full of body and colour, and here considerable poignancy, and yet with a perfectly launched piercing top, with the cut of a sharp but never unpleasant edge. It's quite arresting, Startling actually. Poulence must have been well pleased.

David Zinman played it tightly, keeping the forces well balanced and the American soprano Jennifer Welch-Babidge in her debut here, made a strong impression. The 150 strong choir was again just fantastic, singing with haunting beauty, the diction crystal clear, with every word falling on every pair of ears. I suspect many if not most were hearing this live for the first time.

If anything I wished for a volume dial, just to crank it up a bit. And while I wouldn't have minded a bit more explosiveness in the declamations, a bit more jazzy swing and cut the some of the angular rhythms, the mystery and incense was all there.

Here is the soprano's second passage in the Domine Deus, Agnus dei, (with a lighter more silvery voice than Canteri) in a passage the record sleeve notes describes as 'a litany of beauty and humility impelled by a profound mysticism'.

Domine Deus, Agnus Dei                                    O Lord God, Lamb of God

Filius Patris, Rex coelestis,                                  Son of the Father, heavenly King,

Domine deus,                                                      O Lord God,

Qui tollis peccata mundi,                                    You take away the sins of the world,

misere nobis.                                                       have mercy on us.

Qui tollis peccata mundi,                                    You take away the sins of the world,

suscipe deprecationem nostram;                         receive our prayer.

Domine Deus, Agnus Dei                                   O Lord God, Lamb of God,

Filius Patre                                                         Son of the Father,

Qui tollis peccata mundi ...                                 You take away the sins of the world ...

MORE ASM

I missed this interview (against fabulous rehearsal footage) at the time of the considerable buzz around Anne-Sophie Mutter's visit to Sydney. You will see here how close she stands to the conductor, sometimes too close!

With enormous charm and naturalness she speaks about the Beethoven Violin Concerto, Herbert von Karajan, the early years, the humility of honesty and self-awareness, and serving the music, the art and then nails it talking about 'the loss of musical innocence'. It is a great interview, really.

REICH IN RESIDENCE

If I don't write something now I risk losing track of this special concert. That is to say, not (lose track) of its importance, but of the format, and time and place. Much of what I jot down here, raves and the odd rant, are for my memory and memories. I find myself looking back, wondering who what when and where, and am often sobered by the lost details. I wonder if I'm running out of (organic) disk space and band width.

The justly famous Steve Reich, a man who 'altered the direction of musical history' (the Guardian), was in Sydney as Composer in Residence last week. Alex Ross says it all with worthy insight and clarity. I can't and wont try to do much more than document the concert called A Celebration. I went because I needed to know about this man and his music having been woefully underexposed for too long.

Margaret Throsby's interview was a good introduction and worth a listen. "Yes, she was good" he said when we had a little chat during the second interval. I came back into the house early only to find that baseball cap sitting 'right there', as Mr R was giving himself a break from the controller mixer not-so-comfortable seats and chose, foolishly for him, a seat next to me. I had to ask if I detected some Yiddish melody in the final section of Double Sextet. "Not conscious" he said before breaking into Hebrew (I think).

From 6 on Sunday evening till 10.20 a full house of an unexpectedly young (I mean lots and lots in their twenties, and younger) was enthralled by a riveting full-on Reich night, preceded by 'The Sound of Four Hands Clapping' (my nick), with Steve Baseball Cap Reich and Synergy's Timothy Constable and followed by a spontaneous and genuine standing ovation rarely seen down here. Everyone was up, literally and figuratively.

Drumming Part 1 (1971)
Mallet Quartet (2009)
Variations For Vibes Strings Piano (2005)
Interval
Four Organs (1970)
Vermont Counterpoint (1982)
Double Sextet (2007)
Interval
Music For 18 Musicians


Murray Black's rather cool assessment of the night doesn't really reflect the visceral effect this music had on the packed house and certainly on me.

Mr Reich, now 76 if the sums are right, was very present all night after a long week, a long day, and the long night. He dutifully signed CDs at the first interval ...

and as I mentioned was at the mixer throughout the concert.

I though it all just wonderful, this music and its almost primal rhythms derived from the very beat of existence, the life force pulse we first experience as embryos, the pulse of a mother's heart beat, the regular pacifying beat of footsteps of mothers carrying babies, the clickety-clack of child train travel from west to east, seven years worth say, and I wonder about the sounds we hear "not consciously" - the pulse of the subatomic particles, the pulse of the stars, the pulse of the cosmos. This was for me the true sound of the universe.

When you have a comfortably spare hour, be still and listen to this. While I suspect it will be only an approximation of the live experience, perhaps you may get a glimpse of the timelessness and spacelessness this work achieves. It was transcendental. When I would occasionally surface to self-awareness, and wonder whether we had been listening for 5 or 50 minutes, there was no answer, not the desire for it ever to end. But it had to.

LUCKY WASO

Oh, here's some news. West Australian Symphony Orchestra gets Asher Fisch for three years starting 2014. I'm madly envious for them, although surely we will get some benefits on the east coast. At the very least, I'd fly there to hear him, repertoire depending, in what is regarded as the best acoustic hall in the country. I was fortunate enough to experience his Adelaide Ring Cycle, hear him speak, and say hello at the lobby coffee shop.

Dare I say I wish he were at the helm of the Melbourne Ring 2013.

ONE BLUE SKY ABOVE US

                                 


Oslo. It's impossible to imagine how they feel. In case you haven't seen it ....






One blue sky above us
One ocean lapping all our shore
One earth so green and round
Who could ask for more
And because I love you
I'll give it one more try
To show my rainbow race
It's too soon to die.


My source and more details here.

A CHANGE OF SEASON

                         

Easter rushed up and flew past with that huge creamy moon watching it all. I thought there would be time for stillness and thought, and gardening and musing, and reading and listening. There was a little of each but the days got lost somewhere. We did have a big lunch on Easter Sunday. I cooked and I think it went well. The house was dressed and I lit candles. Just had to.

Growing up at this time of year I remember quite fondly, with blind belief in the Christian spin that was put on what is really an ancient reawakening celebration. Our family was serious about the Christ and the resurrection, and the Easter services in the (fabulous now I look back on it) Spanish revival Catholic Church on the hill were exciting. There was the bleak sombre guilt trip of Good Friday, all the statues draped in black, and then the thrill of staying up late on Saturday for the 11pm service, where outside the doors to the church a big 44 gallon drum was filled with burning wood, and we would light candles and walk solemnly into the darkened church, in readiness for midnight when the celebrants would walk in, more candles, lights turned on, flowers revealed, statues uncovered again in all their gaudy plaster glory, incense, bells, and a choir and organ and singing. I didn't think too much to about it all really, except that it was now Sunday, and Lent was over and feasting was on. Mum cooked and Dad hid eggs in the garden.

That was a long time ago. In just about every respect you can possibly think of.

It wasn't till a bitterly ear-achingly cold Easter in New York that I came to appreciate what this time was all about. After all, it was Autumn where I'd grown up. Awakening wasn't on the agenda. The bulbs and the blossons were bursting in Central Park, where we rode with a blanket over our knees, pulled by a fine horse called Speedo. The Dogwoods were blooming down in the village (we stay at Washington Square), and a new beginning was starting to make sense.

All of which leads, if obliquely, to something that has long fascinated me and what this time of year (and the overcoming of the forces of darkness) is all about - the (wait for it) - placebo effect. Bet you didn't expect that!

From an informal interview with psychologist and Emeritus Professor Nicholas Humphrey, with Richard Dawkins asking the questions, here's something to ponder. (I don't necessarily endorse, especially some of the specifics, of this, the first of a series of four)

More reading here.

ASM

ASM ... Anne-Sophie Mutter ... Anne-Sophie Mutter

See that photo (from the Sydney Morning Herald)? See that dress (gasps as she walked on)? Well that's what we heard. A perfectly fitting golden performance of glittering perfection and decorative brilliance all supported by the strength, and sensuality, of this most wonderful German violinist.

Rather than persist with my incoherent gushing about her and the Beethoven Violin Concerto (Kreisler cadenzas), better that you read Peter McCallum's SMH review - 'Prodigious talent meets profound musical maturity' . And now the Australian (I thought skewing towards the strings in the Shostakovich was what helped make it so brilliant). And again from McCallum. It was a concert for which all the clichés were written - like hearing a new work, time stood still, you know the ones. For example, there were sections (Larghetto becomes Largo-ish) of such slow controlled elegant playing, of hushed reverence, by she of the infinite bow and endless delicacy, that the notes seemed to linger around her, each one added to by the next, till she was the centre of an aura of musical beauty and stillness the like of which I know I'll never experience again. It was something to do with hearing this exquisite playing for the first time. Nothing prepared me.

The relationship with Mr Ashkenazy (with whom she seemed especially close on the night) was significant not only in getting her here, at last, but also in the absolutely stunningly good performance by the orchestra. Talk about cranking it up a notch. It was European playing of the very best kind. It makes one wonder if all the kvetching about the acoustics might better be directed at the ensemble. It seems they can do it. I could go on and on just about the pizzicato, the horns, the winds ... what a great concert, and all the more special for no recording. Contractual issues no doubt.

And thanks to her son whose thoughts on Australia for his gap year may have been the clincher in her Oz debut. May he come, may he stay, may she visit often.

(That's Osawa, not Masur, obviously.)

More? Start here. This is not a pretense; you don't need any German.

The Shostakovich 5 followed. I love it, for its accessibility, its complexity, its profoundity, and its 'best ever' ending! They continued to play brilliantly. My only reservation was it was a pity Richard Miller on tympani didn't get a solo bow. Mr Ashkenazy is good with Russian. He knows. From the programme notes, his thoughts (as a student he met Shostakovich) are:

If you could describe Shostakovich's attitude and what he tried to express in his music, it's simply the tragedy of an individual in impossible circumstances. But we know what he wanted to say because we felt the same as he did, and we somehow deciphered it emotionally and spiritually. We were looking into a mirror of our existence. That's what it was like. It's reality. But reality can be exposed only by genius, in musical terms.

Addit - this interview around which I've now made a separate post needs to slot in here as well: