Handel speaks from beyond the grave to remind musicians how he helps pay the rent in a meme.
Ballet companies owe Tchaikovsky a similar debt, when families flock to the theatre for The Nutcracker.
Popularity can be problematic when it comes to critics, but thank goodness the public don’t really care. We’ll go see La Boheme or Carmen at the opera, just as we’ll see Swan Lake or Nutcracker, or indeed the last 3 symphonies of Tchaikovsky, overflowing with passionate melodies.
Tonight the Toronto Symphony offered the first of four concerts featuring his 1st Piano Concerto and the Symphony No.6.
The well-known concerto was given a highly original reading by Sergei Babayan, our soloist. He has a remarkable dynamic range, playing many parts softer than I’ve heard them before yet boldly bringing out the passages with fast octaves that conclude the outer movements.
Pianist Sergei Babayan
Dalia Stasevska was the guest conductor of the TSO, leading a brilliant reading of the orchestral part, to match Babayan’s delicate playing.
Conductor Dalia Stasevska
We began with Paradisfaglar II (Birds of Paradise II), a shorter work by Andrea Tarrodi.
Composer Andrea Tarrodi (photo: Jonas Bilberg)
While sometimes one finds composers putting clever titles with no apparent connection to what we hear, that’s not what we experienced this time, both in the colours of the orchestra and the occasional solos from violin and cello that seem to imitate bird-song, somewhere in the middle ground between music and noise. Tarrodi’s short piece made a magical beginning to the concert.
It may be heresy but the Pathetique symphony always reminds me of Glenda Jackson in The Music Lovers.
Glenda Jackson in Ken Russell’s The Music Lovers
The film’s over-the-top style matches the emotions lurking in the music, sometimes exultant, sometimes darkly depressed. Stasevska led a very quick reading of the symphony that thrilled the audience even if it wasn’t entirely to my liking. The TSO play wonderfully well these days, undaunted by whatever a conductor asks of them, very impressive.
The first two movements were superb, but I found that the last two movements were too quick for my taste, leaving little space for the nuances one has in a slower more thoughtful interpretation. But it’s still very exciting, and the audience ate it up.
The program is repeated Thursday-Friday-Saturday November 24-25-26.
I had an epiphany watching today’s presentation of Lucio Silla from Opera in Concert in the St Lawrence Centre.
In my review of the opening night of Hannah Moscovitch’s Post-Democracy (that opened at the Tarragon Theatre last Thursday) I included reference to the series Succession, noticing how both the play and the tv shows take us into the creepy family politics of the rich & powerful.
It hit me that the next thing I saw is the 18th century’s version of the same story, even if we’d think of Lucio Silla as “Pre-Democracy” rather than “Post-.” Ditto for works such as Abduction from the Seraglio or La Clemenza di Tito, operas created for a wealthy class as though to reassure the public that tyranny isn’t really that bad.
The families in Moscovitch’s world or in Succession are truthful representations, which is to say, fraught with corruption. Now imagine if they were to emulate Giovanni de Gamerra, Mozart’s librettist: in crafting a happy ending. Of course theatre has become more sophisticated, audiences have stopped swallowing this idea that the aristocrats are really okay, that we just have to let them show us their soft fuzzy side. Daddy Warbucks too is a distant relative, a plutocrat created for and by another era. Now that the guillotines have been misplaced, the masses inured via social media, Donald Trump and the plutocrats don’t need to learn how to fake niceness.
So at least I must thank OIC for bringing this opera back to Toronto. I’m fortunate to have seen Opera Atelier’s production over six years ago, when I was blown away by the inventiveness of the 16 year old Mozart.
We may on occasion miss the sets and the costumes watching concert performances: but this wasn’t one of those times. Music Director Suzy Smith and Chorus Director Robert Cooper made sure that Mozart was well served. We heard some lovely piano elaborations during the recitatives, passages where the intensity can let down if one isn’t thorough. Smith was especially impressive in the last ten minutes of the opera, pages that seem to be ferociously difficult to play: but were executed flawlessly.
Guillermo Silva-Marin, General Director of Voicebox Opera in Concert
I’m sad that it was just a single performance, wishing I could see and hear them again, grateful to OIC General Director Guillermo Silva-Marin for having assembled this remarkable cast. There are no small parts in this opera.
We began with Cecilio and his friend Cinna, sung by Holly Chaplin and Julia MacVicar, two coloraturas smoldering with dramatic intensity. Then we meet Celia and Giunia, sung by Vania Chan and Amy Moodie, also singing remarkable passages including more coloratura with Chan adding a comic dimension to the proceedings. Tenor Owen McCausland in the title role steps forward with enough testosterone to balance the four high voices, a dictator worthy of the name: even if he will abdicate at the end.
(morning after thoughts: Did this opera fail to catch on because it challenges so many singers? too many challenging coloratura voices at one time? or does it challenge the audience, failing to differentiate sufficiently, not enough variety? The performance was blissful for us, grateful to hear so many excellent voices)
The soloists, the chorus and the piano all sounded wonderful.
I dream of this work finding its way into the standard rep. At least we have OIC to remind us of the possibilities.
Theatre sometimes takes us into worlds we don’t like, showing us people we’d avoid, situations we might never encounter otherwise. In some respects theatre is like a conceptual hazmat suit, a way to taste poison without dying. We may cower before horrific headlines but drama lets us really see what’s involved.
Chantelle Han and Jesse LaVercombe (Photo: Mike Meehan)
Hannah Moscovitch’s Post-Democracy opened tonight in the Tarragon main space, putting four people onstage for an hour of sparring, groping, sniping, that sometimes got us to laugh when we were not cringing.
I read the playwright’s urgent words in the program, when she says
“We talk a lot about the 1% who hold and exert power in in our culture. We don’t get to meet them much. They are being helicoptered above us, or they have bought out a whole floor in a hotel we couldn’t afford, or they’re staying on a secluded “Jeffrey Epstein ” island offshore somewhere that they own. I hung around with the 1% for a while in my 20s. I listened to how they talk. I saw how they live. I want to show them to you.”
I think I’m as concerned about the world we live in as she is, upset to see our Premier building a highway for his pals, making new rules for governance to ignore the will of the people, while he and the mayors run everything via a few phonecalls. We’re on the cusp of a post-democratic world, under the thumb of corporations making enormous profits while the average person struggles.
I’m very impressed with the quality of the dialogue, with superb performances by four actors (Chantelle Han, Rachel Cairns, Jesse LaVercombe and Diego Matamoros) and with the sensitivity of director Mumbi Tindyebwa Otu. It’s an hour of well-crafted theatre.
Chantelle Han and Diego Matamoros (Photo: Mike Meehan)
Yet I wonder if the playwright has seen the series Succession, as what I saw onstage tonight seemed like an episode from that show. I won’t spoil anything by making comparisons except to say that I hope Moscovitch hasn’t seen the show and is merely coming up with parallel plot twists to the ones in the series. Perhaps that’s merely to be extrapolated from the corrupt dynamics of any rich family.
All the same, it’s very well done. Jesse LaVercombe is especially unsettling to watch, creating someone truly creepy so believably. It helps that his part is very well written. His relationships are well thought out, the timing of his behaviour very sensitively crafted.
There are some fascinating moral questions lurking in the text. It’s a short play, taking us into a dark place. It feels authentic throughout.
Post-Democracy runs until December 4th at Tarragon Theatre’s Mainspace.
It’s a funny week, even if nobody seems to remember what “funny” means anymore.
I didn’t laugh at Dave Chappelle’s SNL monologue. I walked out of the room during the big announcement the other night (one too many lies) even if I remember Trump’s presidency as a brief golden age for comics.
Tonight not only did I need to laugh, but I needed to feel okay about laughing. Thank God I got my fix, watching Gay for Pay with Blake and Clay, a gay for pay production in association with Crow’s Theatre: where tonight was opening night. It’s a Fringe Show getting a well-deserved revival, written by Daniel Krolik and Curtis Campbell starring Jonathan Wilson and Krolik, directed by Campbell.
Jonathan Wilson and Daniel Krolik
The premise is that we in the audience are a bunch of straight male actors, looking to get work in film or theatre, taking a training seminar with two gay actors showing us how to be gay. It’s not such a crazy premise when you recall that gender and modern life are totally performative nowadays.
One of the great things to notice about Gay for Pay with Blake and Clay is that, wow, being gay is so normal now that we can joke about it, about the sex, the body parts, the clichés.
Or so it seems.
But I’m looking through the filter of some of the other questions of representation that I’m thinking of lately. There’s Kent Monkman’s indigenous drag-queen persona, regularly confronting me with the question “is it okay to laugh at this”? On the weekend Dave Chappelle seemed to be an angry separatist uninterested in any kind of reconciliation.
Tonight’s show was magical, as we segue from this ongoing laughter, possibly improper and even sexist, to gradually noticing that there’s some very serious questions underlying the show. We get to have our cake (laughter) and eat it too (the serious politics underlying the show). No guilt.
Forgive me if I sound too serious in writing this. But I laughed through most of the show, while many around me laughed even more than I did. This is a show that deserves to be seen and heard. Opening night was made up of people who knew about the show and came ready to laugh.
If you need a laugh, if you want to feel okay about your laughter, or if you’re just an actor who wants to find out how to play a gay man? see Gay for Pay with Blake and Clay, at Crow’s until November 27th.
There’s a bonus if like me you’re hesitant about being in a theatre without a mask. This show requires the audience to wear masks.
Today I had the exquisite pleasure of a live encounter with the music of Robert Müller-Hartmann, through the ARC Ensemble at the Royal Conservatory of Music’s Mazzoleni Concert Hall, playing a program to be broadcast by CBC Radio 2. I’ve written recently about ARC Ensemble for their “Music in Exile” recordings for Chandos, such as their October release of “Chamber Works by Alberto Hemsi”, or the chamber works of Dmitri Klebanov in 2021.
As in my previous encounters with the repertoire recorded by the ARC Ensemble, I’m relying upon the excellent notes provided by Simon Wynberg, their Artistic Director. The notion of music in exile is simultaneously exhilarating when we discover someone unknown, yet very upsetting when we look at the life they led, and contemplate what might have been lost. Yes it’s a bitter-sweet experience to encounter the music of a composer whose work is mostly unknown, leading me to wonder (not for the first time) about the process whereby one becomes known, let alone popular.
Born in 1884, a noted composer and teacher, his professional life was disrupted by the arrival of the Nazi race laws in 1933. While Müller-Hartmann was able to get out of the country, settling in England and making some useful contacts including Ralph Vaughan-Williams, yet once the war began his work was again disrupted. In 1939 he and family were interned on the Isle of Man. Although RVW helped secure their release by 1940, he was still not permitted to work as a freelance music teacher until December 1943. In 1950 Müller-Hartmann died of a cerebral hemorrhage.
Some people manage to compose under the most adverse situations. One thinks of Hans Krása, or Viktor Ullmann, composers who accomplished amazing things under the adversity of a concentration camp. For whatever reason the works of Müller-Hartmann did not get much attention.
Today’s program: Two pieces for cello and piano Sonata for Two Violins, Op 32 (P) Sonata for Violin and Piano, Op 5 (P)
–intermission–
Three Intermezzi and Scherzo for piano Op 22 String Quartet No 2, Op 38
The “P” above signifies published pieces. The others only existed in manuscript form.
ARC Ensemble: Erika Raum and Marie Bérard (violins), Kevin Ahfat (piano), Steven Dann (viola), and Thomas Wiebe (cello). (photo: Suane Hupa)
On this occasion ARC Ensemble consists of Erika Raum and Marie Bérard, violins, Steven Dann, viola, Thomas Wiebe, cello and Kevin Ahfat piano. I say “on this occasion” because there have been other players joining this core group as recently as the Alberto Hemsi recording, released just last month.
When something is unique, it may be impossible to understand. Musicians have to learn new pieces, playing them in public only if and when they believe someone might want to hear them. Both of the published pieces (shown above with a ”p”) are fascinating works I’d like to hear again. I don’t know how difficult the string-players’ parts are, which is a possible factor in keeping something out of public view. The two violins are sometimes playing a game of cat & mouse, as though chasing one another, sometimes in imitation, sometimes almost like a challenge, as if to say “anything you can play I can play better”. Yet the two violins sometimes offer one another support. The sonata for Violin and Piano poignantly includes a dedication to “Artur Schnabel with sincere admiration”. I wonder, did Müller-Hartmann know the pianist (one of the great interpreters of his era) and perhaps sought his attention this way? The piece has a fabulous but challenging piano part that might remind you of Richard Strauss, or even Korngold. Pianist Kevin Ahfat was unfazed, playing with tremendous sensitivity to the dynamics, considering some of the immense effects in the score. It almost sounded like a violin concerto, where Ahfat was playing a reduction of an orchestral part. This isn’t to say it’s bad so much as to suggest that this too could be a factor in why Müller-Hartmann isn’t better known, having written something daunting to most chamber musicians: or so it would appear from where I sat.
Impressed as I was by Ahfat in the violin sonata, he came out after intermission to play four solo pieces, works that deserve to be known. The unpublished Three Intermezzi and Scherzo for piano Op 22 drew the biggest ovation of the afternoon, (my big mouth included).
The three intermezzi put me in mind of Brahms, tuneful pieces with conservative tonalities that wouldn’t trouble a listener in the 1880s (when Müller-Hartmann was born). Each one reminds me of a Brahms intermezzo, for example in swift fluid passages (#2) or a folk-tune melody (#3).
The scherzo began with something reminding me of Chopin’s 1st (toughest) scherzo, although this piece sounds even harder on its final insanely difficult pages. It’s like Siegfried’s climb of a mountain surrounded by fire, to step through the fiery curtain into the perfect tranquil calm where you kiss Brunnhilde to wake her up: or of course you crash and burn (figuratively or literally). Ahfat was fearless climbing this mountain.
The String Quartet that closed the program was another piece to puzzle the listener, an astonishing work deserving to be heard, played in a sterling account of music that’s new to everyone and therefore that much harder to articulate. ARC Ensemble gave us transparent performances, their dynamics and phrasing taking us deep into the score as though they were witnesses for the defense: of the composer. Arguably any performance is a proposition, demanding that we pay attention to what’s being played. I was persuaded
I was especially in tears listening to the last movement, which builds in frenetic passage work as though someone is fleeing for their life, as scary as anything I’ve heard in a terrifying film-score: and then suddenly we’re hearing a sweet simple tune as though a reminder of the old country or a former life that’s been snatched away. The combinations are unlike anything I’ve heard although this taste for pained ambivalence reminds me of Gustav Mahler, a juxtaposition of horror and sentiment.
And I was teary-eyed thinking of the composer whose life was disrupted.
The next ARC concert will be April 2nd 2023, playing the music of Alberto Hemsi.
How could it be otherwise? Peter Oundjian, the Toronto Symphony’s Conductor Emeritus, was greeted with a huge ovation when he came out at Roy Thomson Hall to begin tonight’s concert. We brought his wit to the microphone, cleverly mangling Shakespeare to say “if music be the love of food”, in reference to a bargain struck by Felix Mendelssohn that exchanged a composition for something delicious.
We were well fed, tonight, in a tastefully varied program:
Rossini: overture to La gazza ladra Coleridge-Taylor: Ballade in A Minor Mendelssohn: Concert piece No 2
Intermission
The Planets
Given that the title of the concert, to be repeated November 10 and 12, is “Oundjian Conducts The Planets”, the other three pieces are a bonus.
Oundjian walked to the podium, and then to begin the Rossini did something I’ve seen him do before, that reminds me of a talk-show host (he seemed perplexed when I made the comparison a few years ago). He’s not a power-mad maestro, but rather an affable presence who happily lets a performer take charge when it’s suitable. And so the opening drum-roll was handled almost as a free-form cadenza rather than as a tightly scripted event.
While it’s not the same orchestra anymore, the relationships between the former music director and his players are still solid, a joy to behold. In the Rossini as in the Coleridge-Taylor, they responded eagerly. The flamboyant theatricality of the overture was followed by something much more emotional overflowing with an agitated passion.
And then came the unexpected fun of the Mendelssohn, a three movement duet for basset horn and clarinet accompanied by a small orchestra that overflows with humour and witty touches. Eric Abramovitz (clarinet) and Miles Jaques (basset horn) surpassed themselves in an unforgettable encore. I have no idea who wrote the piece, but promise you that if your applause is sufficient you’ll probably hear this amazing piece, whose punchline (when Jaques and Abramovitz play it) is a pregnant pause, then an actual exchange of instruments for the final bars of the piece. Brilliant and yes, very funny.
As I said, those were the bonus before the main event.
This past week I’ve heard parts of Oundjian’s TSO recording of The Planets three times on the radio, including Jupiter on Classical 96.3 as I drove to the concert. Mark Wigmore said “you’ll be hearing that tonight.” It’s familiar turf, arguably another signature piece for the TSO, and they played it with that kind of bold confidence. Mars went from softly brooding to big and brassy. Venus was gently murmuring, then Mercury couldn’t stop running past us. Jupiter was like a replay of what I heard earlier on the radio, although it’s so much more vivid live, watching all those players working in the panorama before us.
I was sad, noticing that in spite of the nice haircut, notwithstanding the energy of his conducting, the bringer of Old Age Saturn was conducted by someone whose hair is completely white.
TSO Conductor Emeritus Peter Oundjian (Photo: Jaime Hogge)
Uranus continues to be an amusing mix of rhythms and jagged phrases. And then we came to mysterious Neptune, complete with the team of Toronto Children’s Chorus and Toronto Youth Choir singing from offstage.
One of the great pleasures was watching the methodical acknowledgement Oundjian made of every contributor, generous as usual. It was a celebratory finish to a beautiful evening. And it’s great to have our Peter back.
The TSO repeat the program Thursday and Saturday. On Sunday afternoon at George Weston Recital Hall, in a program titled “Oundjian Conducts Mozart’s Jupiter”, the TSO substitute Mozart’s symphony for the Planets suite.
Tonight’s Scarborough Philharmonic Orchestra was my first live experience of the ensemble, a return to live in person appearances featuring pianist Lisa Tahara conducted by music director Ronald Royer.
It’s a pleasant change of pace to have a concert relatively close to my home in Scarborough. Their website says it succinctly, as “Downtown Sound. Uptown.”
Conductor and Music Director Ronald Royer
Although we were to hear two of my favorite compositions tonight, namely Saint-Saëns 2nd piano concerto and Schubert’s 9th Symphony I was a bit hesitant, knowing that the works are difficult, possibly beyond the capabilities of a community orchestra.
And to make matters even more challenging, the SPO played at the Scarborough Citadel of The Salvation Army, a space with a remarkably clear acoustic. I’d want to hear at least another concert, sitting somewhere else, but from where I sat the sound was pristeen but a bit dry, which makes it a bit unforgiving. It’s ideal for a conductor such as Royer who seeks to mentor, improve and perfect his youthful players, even if they may find it a little scary at times, leaving them nowhere to hide.
But they seem to love playing there, and the audience ate it up.
The concerto is a piece I love so much even though lately it hasn’t been programmed anywhere nearby.
Its three movements build in speed and energy as we go on, from a meditative first movement to a second movement scherzo and a crazed tarantella for the finale. It’s a challenging concerto that is so much more than just a showpiece for a soloist, possibly the best thing Saint-Saëns ever wrote.
Did I mention that I like it? The performance was a thrill.
Pianist Lisa Tahara
Programming a concerto is usually a great idea I’ve seen in other regional orchestras, whereby one foregrounds the virtuoso soloist while the orchestra hides, playing a part that may not be nearly as difficult as a symphony. But this concerto is tougher than that, as the SPO provided excellent support to Tahara, including some challenging passages for the horn player and the timpanist executed perfectly. Her Yamaha instrument was not an ideal vehicle, not as beautiful as her playing. While its tone is brilliant up top as one might expect of a Yamaha, it’s somewhat clunky in the lower registers, even though her phrasing was elegant, light in the scherzo, her quick octaves marvelous to watch. And I was lucky to be sitting really close! On a night when I can’t deny that I was attracted by the popular repertoire choices, it’s fitting that Tahara offered as an encore the piece that might be the most popular piano solo of all, namely Clair de lune, in a thoughtful reading.
For the Schubert 9th, also a favorite of mine, the SPO rose to the occasion. Royer has some excellent ideas on how to make the piece sound good, getting the best out of his ensemble. In the middle movements we were going at a very quick pace, the phrases understated and tending towards softer dynamics, in the interest of getting the notes right: which was a brilliant strategy. It meant that when we came to climaxes they were effective, and the players were able to get through this huge long work.
I’ve just noticed something concerning Gustav Holst’s Planets suite.
You’ve probably heard that Holst did not mean planets in the sense of astronomy but rather to be more of a meditation on the astrological significance of each planet. His seven part suite of music introduces us to Mars, the Bringer of War, Venus the Bringer of Peace, Mercury, the Winged Messenger, Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity, Saturn, the Bringer of Old Age, Uranus, the Magician and Neptune, the Mystic.
Yes we know that “Mars the Bringer of War” has been imitated by film composers such as John Williams in Star Wars and an even more blatant knock-off in the battle music from Gladiator, composed by Hans Zimmer. You may expect to hear the stirring melody during Jupiter (the same motif heard early in the movement played quickly, but now done in a more thoughtful fashion), “I vow to thee my country” sung for Remembrance Day.
And yet I never hear anyone mention the thing that I would say is the most important thing Holst sought to do with this suite.
It hit me today as I thought about the upcoming Toronto Symphony concert this week, to be led by their Conductor Emeritus Peter Oundjian, as I remembered the recent TSO concert in October, when Gustavo Gimeno conducted Ligeti’s Atmosphères (a work with its own planetary & inter-planetary associations via Kubrick and 2001: A Space Odyssey) followed by Wagner’s Prelude to Act I of Lohengrin.
It hit me suddenly as I wondered: what if instead of the Ligeti, Gimeno had juxtaposed Wagner with Holst? I was following the chain of association, whereby we think of that Ligeti piece leading us to Holst’s planets in space rather than in astrological charts.
But the Wagner and the Holst are both addressing spiritual concerns.
Perhaps it’s accidental, but I noticed a pattern in Holst’s Neptune that is such a close match to what we hear in the Lohengrin prelude as to resemble a parody. No I don’t mean to suggest that Holst is mocking Wagner. But in a sense he seems to be setting up the comparison with such a precise reboot of the template, perhaps inviting us to compare. That Holst only orchestrated the piece later might mean that the emulation of a pattern was not deliberate. And of course I’m likely reading something into it (perhaps after playing one too many hymns) rather than picking up something intentional.
Both pieces seem to be about the spirit, the deepest meanings of life. Lohengrin is an allegory about faith. A woman’s predicament –slandered by evil rivals—is that she can be saved by the perfect knight of her dream, provided that she doesn’t know his name. It’s a metaphor for Christian faith itself, that she is saved provided that she doesn’t demand proof of her saviour’s existence. And once she asks the fatal question in the story (asking his identity), her faith is now problematic and he will answer her question before leaving her, because she has doubted.
In the Lohengrin prelude we hear a perfect little tone-poem depicting the descent of grace in the vessel of the grail, coming down gradually from above. It’s first in the highest octaves, then restated lower, and finally given a big climactic statement by the full orchestra. Then we hear the theme associated with the tragic knowledge of Lohengrin’s identity: which is why he must leave.
Neptune is a different kind of tone-poem. Where Lohengrin tells a tale of certainty, Neptune is the mystic, the one asking questions. We begin both pieces with soft woodwinds. But where the angelic host in Lohengrin comes down softly but with no ambiguities, Neptune seems to be questioning, the harmony wandering as though unable to decide between adjacent tonalities, and in an irregular time-signature as well. The phrase is soft and delicate but harmonically ambiguous. As with Lohengrin’s main theme, Holst gives it to us three times, each time a bit bigger in volume and orchestration.
Instead of the doubting theme in Lohengrin, Neptune includes a transition introducing a wordless chorus sung by high voices. And now, in this movement featuring a tone of questioning, I think it’s appropriate to wonder, to question who or what the voices signify. Where Lohengrin is a closed tale with a precise ending of punishments and rewards, Neptune is the questioning mystic, presented to us in an atmosphere of wonderment.
I associate those voices with spirit itself, with life. We may be coming to the end of our lives with Saturn the Bringer of Old Age, terrified by Uranus, the Magician, but the gentle questioning of Neptune brings us into the presence of life itself. While the piece fades away, the voices go on. Is that bad? I don’t think so. I believe the voices going on and on are like spirit, a suggestion of eternal life. There is no closure as we get in Lohengrin, but it’s wonderfully ambiguous.
I’m looking forward to hearing it again at the TSO, who will play it November 9, 10 and 12.
ARC Ensemble are the Artists of the Royal Conservatory of Music in Toronto. They are superb players but they’re also important because of the work they do. For example, their new recording Chamber Works by Alberto Hemsi, that was just released this past October 14, is the first commercial release devoted to the composer’s unique and extraordinary works, as part of their “Music in Exile” series from Chandos Records.
When we listen to chamber music we’re often hearing classics from long ago, not newly discovered music from the past.
Here’s the description from the ARC Ensemble’s press release accompanying this their latest. “It is ironic that composer Alberto Hemsi, who spent much of his life rescuing music that faced extinction, should have his own brilliantly original works threatened with a similar fate. As part of its mission to research and recover 20th century music suppressed or marginalized by repressive regimes, war, and exile, Canada’s acclaimed ARC Ensemble focuses its sixth Chandos recording on this overlooked and prodigious talent.”
You may wonder about Alberto Hemsi and what his music sounds like. Alberto Hemsi, composer and ethnomusicologist, was born in 1898 in Anatolia, then part of the Ottoman Empire and now Turkey. He died in 1975 in Paris.
He’s best known for his work capturing traditional Sephardic melodies in arrangements such as his Coplas Sephardies, songs that include piano arrangements. Here’s an example of one of them.
The notes to the CD compare them “to the path that Béla Bartók followed in reviving Hungarian folk music, Hemsi attempted to “recreate with them the traditional spirit of the people in the manner I thought was most favorable and appropriate to the song’s mood.” He saw this as “rescuing work in a triple process: reproduction, reconstruction, and recreation.”
But that’s the Hemsi who is known. ARC Ensemble are also probing scores that haven’t been heard before.
Hemsi is an original, “very different from what anyone else was doing at the time,” says Simon Wynberg, Artistic Director of the ARC Ensemble. “Hemsi worked outside the European mainstream, using fairly simple Sephardic melodies as the building blocks for extended and sometimes quite complex concert works.”
I’m trying to find a proper analogy to what I hear on the CD, but it’s truly unique. Because Hemsi represents a sort of creative cul de sac, being mostly unknown and unheard, he was able to boldly make his own original voice. There’s no pressure from the conservatory powers to conform to movements or styles. Instead he’s happily capturing something of his ethnicity but mixed into a modern texture free of the need to be atonal or dissonant.
The recording features four multi-movement works, plus a single movement work. Here are the tracks: 1-3: Danze nuziali greche Op 37 (1956) for cello and piano 4-6: Tre arie antiche (dalle “Collas Sefardies”) Op 30 (c. 1945) for string quartet 7-9: Pilpúl Sonata Op27 (1942) for Violin and piano 10-13: Quintet Op 28 (c.1943) 14: Meditation, Op 16 (before 1931)
The Danze nuziali greche (Greek nuptial dances) don’t sound Greek to me, but rather more in keeping with Hemsi’s Jewish roots, as you can hear in this example (but what do I know).
The cello is melodic, the piano sometimes wonderfully percussive, rhythmic, yet simple and direct. Throughout this album I’m amazed at how much drama Hemsi gets out of two instruments, particularly in the mature works, simply by repeating patterns and phrases. You’ll notice that the track sequence begins with the latest works, delving further into Hemsi’s past with each track.
The Tre arie antiche are melodies from the Collas Sefardies arranged for string quartet, brilliant use of the instruments in ways to illuminate tunes without getting bogged down in games of virtuosity for its own sake. The melodies get handed around the ensemble yet they’re always transparent. I’m struck by how Hemsi’s music at its most elaborate still seems closer to something popular like Gershwin or even folk music rather than anything from a conservatory artist.
The Pilpúl Sonata for violin reminded me at times of Stravinsky’s ragtime or Ravel’s jazz, or perhaps a bit like Debussy. The piano is elegant and clean, moody yet seeming to come from a different place in Europe, as though we found a new late violin sonata from Debussy or Ravel. But wait, in the music he’s showing us that he was actually Jewish. There are repeated phrases that sound like prayers.
The quintet (for a string quartet with an additional viola) is perhaps the least Jewish sounding of the works, featuring a more typically modernist texture of the mid-century, while still being completely tonal and melodic. Its ambiguities are not troubling but merely procedural games, going in circles like a child playing with a pet or a toy. While this four-movement work comes almost as the climax of the album it needs to be said that this is Hemsi’s earlier voice. As he gets older (at least in the earlier tracks I heard on the CD) he seems reconciled to his ethnicity and increasingly welcomes and even foregrounds that in his work. I can’t help wondering what kind of dialogues (whether internal or with colleagues) underlie his choices and creative pathways.
The Meditation “in Armenian style” is a lovely work. Cellist Tom Wiebe doesn’t overdo the schmaltz, his understated playing offering a superb calling card for the composer both in this (his earliest example on the recording) as well as the late Danze nuziali greche.
The ARC Ensemble album features violinists Marie Bérard, Erika Raum, and Emily Kruspe (Pilpul Sonata), violists Steven Dann and Julien Altmann, cellist Tom Wiebe, and pianist Kevin Ahfat.
The ARC Ensemble will be performing in Toronto November 13th playing music of Robert Müller-Hartmann. Further information
The ARC Ensemble will be playing on November 13th at Mazzoleni Hall at the Royal Conservatory, in a program featuring the music of Robert Müller-Hartmann, Sunday 13 November 2022 at 2:00 pm.
This text is from the RCM website for the concert:
Müller-Hartmann left Hamburg for London in 1937 and died in Dorking, Surrey in 1950. WWII, internment and the economic hardship that followed his move to England, meant that he had little time or opportunity to re-establish his career. None of the works on this program have been heard in 80-plus years.
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