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An intermission conversation at a concert–Christophe Coin playing “The Eloquent Cello”– made a natural lead-in to Thanksgiving weekend, a reminder of the things I love about Tafelmusik baroque orchestra, for which I should be grateful.   We were discussing things of which we weren’t sure, politely exchanging opinions on everything from the church, their repertoire choices to the instruments themselves.

It’s no contradiction that Tafelmusik regularly manage to show us something new even while delving deeper and deeper into the past, always addressing an audience who politely listen to things of which we aren’t sure, exploring the unfamiliar more often than more standard choices. At times as I listen to the conversations in the lobby it’s less like an orchestra and its public than a kind of ongoing colloquium, where the mutual support emboldens the band to experiment. That’s the Tafelmusik she knows and loves in the warmth of their home, a beautiful church. I whined a bit about my preference, that Tafelmusik should finally lay claim to the romantic period (Schubert, Mendelssohn, Schumann, Berlioz); while we have just seen the completion of their Beethoven cycle, there are still so many others still to explore. My friend’s admonitions –that the band stick to baroque rather than those popular composers Mozart & Beethoven—came on the right weekend, when we count our blessings, especially as some orchestras on either side of the border struggle to stay afloat. Tafelmusik don’t just survive, they prosper, and it’s because they clearly know themselves & their limits. And more importantly, they understand their audience, who are not just their community but dare I say it, family.

Last night’s concert was an apt time to ponder the instruments themselves, as we watched and listened to Christophe Coin playing baroque cello.

Christophe Coin (photo: Jean De La Tour), the photo alas cut-off, so you can’t see the way the cello floats in the air, without an endpin to touch the stage.

Yes I am again speaking of things of which we aren’t sure: something that I don’t fully understand. I saw that Coin plays without the characteristic endpin we usually expect, instead holding his instrument between his knees.  The sound coming out of his instrument was remarkable. I wonder – after briefly consulting a page about the baroque cello  found via the oracle according to google—whether this is a true “baroque cello” we’re hearing played? It’s hard to tell from a front-on view, and of course I only realized what I should be looking for long after the fact.

Listening to the way Coin plays, I have to wonder if it’s fair to compare, given the differences:

• Metal strings vs gut
• More vibrato vs a more direct attack

The tone is surprising, deep and soulful, to fully justify that “eloquent cello” slogan Tafelmusik used to promote this concert. I can’t help thinking that the way the modern cello is played, with much vibrato, is a way to compensate for what’s missing, to make the instrument seem more accurate than it really is. I wondered too whether the endpin actually deadens the sound, given the remarkable resonance coming from Coin’s cello. If you imagine the instrument resonating, then picture it touching the stage (through the endpin) that this might kill some of the overtones that are otherwise coming out.
Coin has a glorious flood of tone at his disposal when he wanted to seize the moment. Speaking of eloquent cello, what words can capture his celloquence? Perhaps if you imagine the contours of a wave of caramel or single malt scotch gushing from a big barrel? Words fail. At times Coin vanished into the ensemble sound, as though incognito. Each half of the concert asked him to take those dual roles, first as leader from the cello section, then as soloist. The first half gave us von Dittersdorf’s Symphony after Ovid’s Metamorphoses, a colourful piece, even if I felt no real connection to Ovid; we then heard Boccherini’s D Major cello concerto. The second half compositions – a symphony from CPE Bach and Haydn’s C major cello concerto were a bit of a love-fest, both from a rapturous audience, and onstage, between the artists. Half the fun of a concert like this is watching the eye-contact, the nods of heads (particularly in the big exchanges between sections in the Bach, including wonderful unison moments when the band played as though they were all of one mind), and that dreamy look from the players during Coin’s inspiring cadenzas. There were times that the music making swept me away so totally that I did wonder if maybe Tafelmusik might want Coin as their leader.

Ah but election fever from south of the border is influencing the way I watch concerts lately. I can’t deny I am already looking at Peter Oundjian, wondering about the TSO’s future, and recently it was Elisa Citterio as a possible candidate to lead Tafelmusik. I see echoes of the election in the selection, the politics and larger than life personalities. Whether Coin is a candidate or not, the concert was as much a study in leadership as it was an opportunity to enjoy those being led. As agile and nuanced as Coin was as a soloist, maybe it’s just that Tafelmusik manage to inspire every soloist who visits. I suspect Coin sounds better and plays better in the presence of a wonderful ensemble like this one.

I’m sorry I couldn’t write this sooner (car trouble last night meant I went to bed without publishing this), as this likely will be published too late to promote Christophe Coin’s baroque/classical cello masterclass from 1-3 pm today. As I type this, it’s less than an hour from now. The concert repeats tonight @ 8 and tomorrow at 3:30, Jeanne Lamon Hall in Trinity St Paul’s Centre.

There are weeks when the ensembles in town confuse and confound us with their crossover efforts, doing things we might not expect.  This is supposedly a good thing, when historically informed players with their lovely old instruments venture into a more recent century, or when the modern instruments play sometimes older than usual. This week, though, everyone seemed intent on staying close to home while offering up performances that almost declare their identity. Last night I was marveling at Tafelmusik’s mastery of Bach, Rameau and Handel: core baroque repertoire.

Tonight it was the Toronto Symphony’s turn, playing works from the past hundred years or so (give or take a decade). While the TSO can probably play just about anything, there are some works that won’t be performed by any other professional band in this town. I like Roy Thomson Hall best when the music we’re hearing is big and bold, filling the space with sound. Today and tomorrow, the TSO programmed works perfectly suited to the space and their talents, a signature offering that I would recommend without reservation, music that likely will only improve in its second performance as the orchestra gets even more comfortable with these challenging pieces:

• Randolph Peters’ Butterfly Wings and Tropical Storms
• Jean Sibelius’ Violin Concerto, with a colossal bonus, in violinist Henning Kraggerud’s five minute “Variation Suite for cello & violin, played by Kraggerud & cellist Joseph Johnson (make sure you clap though! it’s an encore)
• Sergei Rachmaninoff’s 2nd Symphony

Let me repeat, if you’re not busy tomorrow, go get a ticket to hear this concert. The hall was not completely full, possibly because people wanted to watch the Blue Jays beat up on the Yankees. While the empty seats are unfortunate for a concert of such excellence, they probably helped the acoustic, and bode well for anyone seeking a last minute ticket.

While the official beginning to the TSO season was Wednesday night’s Renée Fleming concert (that I missed because I was teaching) for me this is the real beginning. Yes Fleming has shown herself to be a virtuoso in some repertoire, but her Wednesday concert verged on pops with its Broadway numbers sung with a microphone, for which the orchestra was more of a glorified accompanist to a famous diva. But tonight? the orchestra had a chance to show us what they can do, flexing their muscles. That all three pieces show off the orchestra’s own virtuosi in thrilling solos made this a really wonderful opportunity to get the season off to a good start.

You may recall Peters as the composer of The Golden Ass¸ an opera with libretto by Robertson Davies that the Canadian Opera Company staged in the late 1990s. The score we heard tonight might be called impressionistic for its vivid colours, sometimes solidly grounded above square tonal chords that sound as though Peters composed at the piano (with more than a hint of the blues), before venturing into layers of busy textures frothing and bubbling.

The Sibelius Concerto again demonstrates for me that Peter Oundjian is perhaps best when leading the orchestra in a concerto, especially a violin concerto.

Violinist Henning Kraggerud with the Toronto Symphony Orchestra led by Peter Oundjian (Jag Photography)

I’ve seen this concerto done before, and it can be daunting because it’s so unique, with cadenzas and solos in unexpected places, big moments for soloist and orchestra but not matching the template we see from most other composers. In this case the composer’s originality isn’t bad, but can trip up the best of them. I heard something that felt fresh from Oundjian, who kept the big orchestra at bay throughout so that I could easily hear Kraggerud, whose brusque attacks and angular interpretation made Sibelius sound especially fresh as if newly conceived. While we heard plenty of the lyrical, this was a reading that was unafraid of the darkness in this work, that didn’t overdo the saccharine or the artificial sweetness that some violinists offer up.

As an encore Kraggerud and cellist Joseph Johnson gave a delicious performance of the violinist’s own “Variation Suite” for cello & violin. If you listen to this youtube performance, imagine it now played to perfection in the clever rhetoric of a witty give and take before us, Johnson standing tall (or more accurately sitting tall) in this unheralded moment of great beauty.

And then we came to the place where the headline really makes sense, the 2nd Symphony of Rachmaninoff. I find Oundjian especially comfortable with Russian repertoire, as some of my fondest memories of him with the TSO revolve around Russian composers, including Rimsky-Korsakov in Florida and on their CD, Tchaikovsky’s 6th for the Maestro’s birthday celebration last year, and now this spectacular kickoff to the new season.

I believe Rachmaninoff languishes under the weight of the same disrespect accorded to Puccini & Richard Strauss, to name two early 20th century composers known for their beautiful melodies and financial success. Can you say “popular”? It’s a troubling phenomenon, that music of great beauty is denigrated for the very thing many of us want most from music.  This piece should be better known, programmed more often. Starving artists are valorized even when their music is less attractive. But Rachmaninoff isn’t some conservative clinging to the past. His sonorities in this symphony anticipate what we’d hear from the film-scores of later decades, whether in their lush melodies or the swash-buckling energy of the brassy last movement. There are a ton of wonderful solos, including Jonathan Crow’s violin, Neil Deland’s horn, and stunning playing from the brass choir that offers up a motto in each movement. The brass in this symphony crushes you in the gut like guitars at a heavy metal concert, a visceral sensation bordering on the sexual, and in case you can’t tell, yes I liked it a lot. OMFG

They’re back with the same program Saturday night. Catch it if you can.