We have decided to give more visibility to the reviews of concerts in the Tonbridge Music Club season by publishing it on the website
Reviews are an 'after the event' phenomenon. In earlier years they produced great literature. Why do we read them? To see if our opinion of the event is the same as someone else? To find out what we've missed? Whatever the reason, this could be YOUR opportunity to express an opinion. TMC is always interested in the views and wishes of its audience. Do you have a opinion you would like to express? If so e-mail
Let's hear from you.
Gaudier Ensemble - 4 October 2003
The Revolutionary, The Liberator, and the Musical Prodigy
A German revolutionary, a German liberator, and an Austrian musical prodigy of extraordinary imagination, provided the material for the Gaudier Ensemble's programme - the first concert in Tonbridge Music Club's 2003/4 season at West Kent College.
Beethoven the revolutionary, after whom music could never be the same, was not in particularly radical mood when he wrote the relatively rarely heard Sextet Op 81b for two horns and strings. Nothing particularly revolutionary about this except for the virtuoso writing for the two horns. A couple of tiny insecurities at the opening were undoubtedly down to the unusually cool, normally superheated, West College auditorium - cold lips and a cold mouthpiece do not make easy bedfellows - any more than do cold fingers on strings. As the players warmed up the work proved to be hugely enjoyable, the strings' accompanying role providing a perfect foil to the horn fanfares and scales, testing both the stamina of the players and compass of their instruments. A brilliant opener to this most entertaining of programmes.
Weber was the liberator, who freed opera from Italian influences, by developing Romantic opera. The Gaudier Ensemble played, appropriately, that most operatic of chamber works, the Clarinet Quintet. This lovely piece was given a performance of great subtlety, doing full justice to the dynamic contrasts and changes of mood, clarinettist Richard Hosford's pianissimi in the slow movement raised goosebumps. In his spoken introduction to the piece he referred to the ensemble as a group of friends who had known each other for years, and who got together every now and then to give concerts - a wonderful basis for chamber music playing. In this instance they had got together especially for this one concert - a mark of the esteem in which Tonbridge Music Club is held in professional musical circles.
Completing the triumvirate was Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart whose elegant Divertimento in E flat K 334 concluded the programme. The first Minuet of two, is one of those 'I know that tune, where on earth does it come from?' sort of pieces, and the remaining movements were delivered in a style entirely appropriate to a divertimento - an entertaining diversion - but this is Mozart, so the mood is not trivial. The Gaudier Ensemble's first violinist, Marieke Blankestijn, deserves special mention for her playing of the very demanding lead violin part, which was impeccable both tonally and technically. The remainder of the Ensemble, too numerous to mention individually all contributed to the atmosphere of music making among friends - particularly the interplay between all instruments during the fourth variation of the Mozart Divertimento, where the horns featured heavily again - stand up and take a bow, Jonathan Williams and Christiaan Boers.
Music in this galant idiom needs playing with style, in this case not just one style, but the ability to bring out the subtle differentiation between the forthrightness of Beethoven, the joie de vivre of Weber, and the cool elegance of Mozart. This the Gaudier Ensemble did to perfection. As one member of the audience was heard to say on the way out, 'That was just music, pure and simple. Wonderful!'
It is difficult to imagine a more entertaining season opener than this programme, although a glance at what Tonbridge MC have to offer for the remainder of the season suggests that the purchase of a season ticket might be a sensible thing to do. (David Inman)
Ilya Gringolts & Yevgeny Sudbin - 1 November 2003
21st century Bach
Pity the poor fiddler who plays unaccompanied Bach at 8 pm on an evening close to Bonfire night. This was the fate of 21-year-old Russian Ilya Gringolts, opening the November 1st concert, to the accompaniment of a random assortment of cracks, splutters and fairly serious bangs. Full marks for perseverance even if this Bach was not everyone's taste. This was Bach for the 21st century, deconstructed, informal, and almost improvisatory in nature. The five movements of the Second Partita are dance movements for Heaven's sake. God forbid that they should be delivered in metronomic style, but the Allemande, Courante, and Sarabande stopped and started in haphazard fashion with little sense of rhythmic pulse. The Giga had some sense of rhythm but was really too fast for the continuous semiquavers to register clearly. The great Chaconne brought some gravitas severely mitigated by the gap of several seconds with which Mr Gringolts chose to separate the minor and major episodes, thus considerably diminishing their dramatic effect. This was an unconventional view of Bach and, to be fair to Mr Gringolts, his view is consistent. The reviews of his recently issued CD of three Suites/Sonatas show the critics to be questioningly aware of his particular approach. Interpretation apart, the playing, intonation and tonal quality were impeccable.
In the Beethoven Sonata No 8 which followed, Mr Gringolts was joined by his duo partner and fellow Russian, 23-year-old Yevgeny Sudbin. This was a brilliant contrast to Bach. All the good humour and mercurial changes of mood and tempo were admirably conveyed. Mr Sudbin's playing was outstanding in bringing out the varying moods of the middle movement, and the bagpipe-like country-dance effects of the finale.
Prokofiev's Second Sonata followed the interval. The Tonbridge Music Club audience was fortunate. They would be lucky to hear a better performance of this lyrical and quirky work. Perhaps it was the fact that these two Russians were on home territory, but they exuded a memorable confidence and unanimity of attack.
This most intelligently built programme concluded with three pieces by Pablo Sarasate. Mr Gringolts assumed the mantle of the Spanish virtuoso to the manner born. The well-known Zigeunerweisen followed two genre Spanish pieces. Playing with lots of lower string portamento and a wide vibrato the Russian Mr Gringolts reminded us that the roots of gypsy music lie in Eastern Europe. Dazzling stuff, dazzlingly delivered. Here the violinist was definitely the primus. The enthusiastic audience demanded an encore. They got more Sarasate; this time his Caprice Basque.
For many, Mr Sudbin was the star of this show. Playing with immense subtlety of touch and dynamic – a magical controlled diminuendo from huge fortissimo to absolute pianissimo in the middle of the Prokofiev comes to mind - he provided an absolutely secure partner, definitely the primus in primus inter pares. He should be invited back to play on his own. He was helped by having a quite exceptionally even-toned and well regulated Steinway piano on which to play. (David Inman)
Mark Padmore & Roger Vignoles - 6 December 2003
Stillness, Silence and Self-Effacement
When two of the world's finest lieder recitalists come to town it's reasonable to anticipate something special and that's just what Tonbridge Music Club got at their December concert.
Pianist Roger Vignoles and tenor Mark Padmore came to West Kent College to perform one of the great cornerstones of the lieder repertoire, Schubert's song cycle Die Schöne Müllerin, prefaced by six songs especially chosen to provide a complement to the main work.
If the title to this piece of comment seems a mite strange, it's no less than what the audience and the performers achieved - together. There was an absolute silence of concentrated listening on the part of the audience, and a compelling stillness from the performers. Self-effacement too, with no showy over-projection of the words, or platform dramatics on the singer's part; no exaggerated keyboard histrionics on the part of the pianist. Just two great artists putting themselves totally at the service of the music. The maximum of effect achieved with the minimum of effort. Therein lies great art. This degree of communication between performer and audience occurs but rarely, and those present were privileged to be a part of it.
Singing in a language that is not the singer's native tongue can too often lead to mannerism and exaggeration, not to mention a lack of engagement with the text. Here there was none of this, and the young miller's achingly tender emotions expressed by Mark Padmore were supported by some of the most perceptive piano playing this listener has ever heard. Every mood, from smiling innocence, through anger, jealousy and self-doubt, and finally to introversion and tragedy, were laid bare before the responsive audience.
The pacing of the entire recital was immaculate. In particular the narrative span of the Müllerin cycle. Here the piano postludes and carefully judged time gaps between the individual songs all provided an utterly compelling experience. Schubert's depiction of the poet Müller's tale of optimism leading to despair and death unfolded in one great arch from beginning to end. Felicities too numerous to catalogue abounded. Some that spring to mind include the sustained final note of the opening song's postlude leading directly into the second. The manner in which Mark Padmore coloured his voice for the half-tones in Die Götter Griechenlands; the stillness and silence in the auditorium at Der Neugeirige; the shocking bleakness in Die Böse Farbe and Trockne Blumen, the sudden anger on the word Augen in the penultimate song; the world of heartbreak in Roger Vignoles's closing bars of Tränenregen were the stuff of dreams. One could go on… It is this kind of experience that makes live music simply irreplaceable. Recorded reproduction, however good, can provide little more than basic information.
This was German–art song – a genre virtually invented by Schubert – at the highest level. Tonbridge Music Club has a habit of producing at least one very special evening in the course of their season. This was one such evening. (David Inman)
Correspondence
From Clifton Robinson
I would like to respond to your invitation to members to comment on programmes.
Your critic follows the common belief that Die Schöne Müllein ends in death and despair. Schubert's carefully chosen verses from William Muller's poems are products of nineteenth century Rationalism. Although Rationalists rejected Christian belief in life after death and substituted a vague, undefined hopefulness they certainly did not preach despair but the very opposite.
Die Schöne Müllein is the personalized millstream who, from the beginning, entices the young miller to her final embrace and to some inferred bliss. The Miller's beautiful daughter is merely a temporary distraction
Die Winterreise follows the same theme. The Wanderer finds no room at the inn - the cemetary is full. His mood begins to lighten and finally joins "Strange old man"whose esoteric purpose persists although he has bare feet on the ice, dogs worry him and no one puts money into his hat - but to where?- is the Rationalist's unanswerable question. Despite insufficiently considered interpretations one can still enjoy Schubert's wonderful music and many tanks to TMC for numberless years of enjoyment
A reply from David Inman
Thank you for your kind and thoughtful - not to say thought provoking! - letter dated 12th February.
I am not sure whether you refer to my programme notes for Die Schö Müllerin or to the Concert Comment piece in the programme for the following concert. As I was responsible for both however, I would like to say that my research threw up not one mention of Rationalism. Obviously I was aware of Müller's literary party games, and of the scope of the collection of the 'Travelling Horn-Player' poems that provided Schubert with the material for both the M&uump;llerin and Winterreise cycles. Clearly there is a subtext, but that subtext is not specifically linked to Rationalism in anything I have used, and I normally look for just such things, being interested in how the music or work came into being, and the thinking behind it.
Thank you for taking the trouble to write. Carolyn Vignoles tells me that your letter is being put on the TMC website.
Vanbrugh Quartet - 7th February 2004
Rich nut-brown tone without any suspicion of stridency; unanimity of musical expression; unexaggerated, forthright projection of the music; these were the abiding impressions left by the Vanbrugh Quartet's February 7th recital. One might add a compelling, imaginative and balanced programme that was eminently satisfying both intellectually and emotionally.
This was not a recital to send one out into the chilly evening air with a spring in one's step and a smile on one's face. Much of the music was introspective, tense and emotional, and the Vanbrugh Quartet is to be commended for not trying to overstate anything for effect.
Schubert's Quartetsatz - a tense dramatic piece if ever there was one - was given a forthright performance. It was the rich tone of Gregory Ellis's violin, opening the piece that caught one's ear, the dark tone being reinforced as the other instruments entered. A wonderful sense of ease was created as the second theme appeared, dolce (sweetly) as marked. The scurrying scale passages added to the dramatic tension, whilst the dynamic changes were all integrated without overstatement.
The Shostakovich Tenth Quartet, one of the least played of the composer's quartets, was, in a word, gripping. This predominantly low-key work - scherzo apart - was well suited to this ensemble's approach.
The rhapsodic and fragmented nature of the quiet opening movement contrasted well with the incessant jagged brutality of the scherzo. The slow movement provided a sweet change of pace and mood, with Christopher Marwood's wonderfully firm and tonally weighty cello being prominent. The slide into the last movement was beautifully executed, the audience holding their collective breath as Simon Aspell's viola led the wry dance, at a tempo precisely calculated to give a lift to the spirit; but not for too long, as the introspection crept back. Compelling and thought-provoking stuff.
As for the Brahms Op 67 that made up the second half of the programme, perhaps it might have smiled a little more openly. The most cheerful of the composer's three quartets, the Vanbrugh's approach meant that the carefree verve of the first movement's rhythmic teasing was a little muted. A little more unbuttoned humour would not have gone amiss. The Andante's F major song however, glowed with fervour, a true evocation of the composer's own assessment of the movement as 'the tenderest and most impassioned movement I have ever written'. In the final movement The Vanbrughs resisted the temptation to overemphasise the differences between the variations - Brahms marks no tempo or mood changes - and made no attempt, thank heaven, to turn the 6th variation, marked molto dolce into a kind of second slow movement. In this movement Simon Aspell's viola executed what is a kind of miniature viola concerto with a marvellous depth of tone, without any of the reedy whine that the viola can sometimes exhibit.
As a summary of this recital 'The Times' newspaper's quote in the programme, could hardly be bettered; '…technical security and a marvellous unity of intent, but also a remarkable insight into the music they play…' This was a programme of great musical subtlety and emotional tension. The Vanbrugh Quartet served it well.(David Inman)
The Parley of Instruments - 6th March 2004
'Music, the greatest good that mortals know, and all of heaven we have below.' So wrote Joseph Addison around 1700 - the period from which the music in this programme came. A century and a half later, Thomas Carlyle observed that 'Music is well said to be the speech of angels.' Both remarks could equally have applied to the recital given for Tonbridge Music Club in Tonbridge Parish Church, by Peter Holman's Parley of Instruments celebrating both their 25th anniversary year, and, in their programme, the 300th anniversary of the deaths of Heinrich Biber and Georg Muffat, contemporaries and colleagues at the Salzburg court around the end of the 17th century. Both composers were, in their own way, revolutionaries, although totally different in their approach.
Peter Holman's enlightened programming showed the two in contrast both to each other and their Italian contemporaries. These days, with the establishment of period instruments one has come to expect stylistic authority and expressive spontaneity, and that is exactly what the Music Club audience got in full measure.
It is always astonishing to this writer that music of limited instrumental resources - in this case harpsichord, two violins, two violas, one cello and an occasional trumpet- although that's perhaps not the way to describe that redoubtable virtuoso Crispian Steele-Perkins - and limited harmonic range, can be so wide-ranging in expression and colouring. Its vitality and power to move the listener gives the lie to those who consider Baroque music 'samey'.
Felicities too many to enumerate passed by. Among those particularly memorable were the afore-mentioned Mr Steele-Perkins, whose elegant and fluid playing lent an oboe-like quality to the Sonatas in which he was involved - and all done without valves of course. We are used to thinking of the trumpet as a ceremonial instrument. Here was a very different, gentle instrument.
Judy Tarling and Theresa Caudle had the audience - and themselves - smiling at Biber's mistuned violins, and Schmelzer's glorious imitation bagpipes - not forgetting Mark Caudle's cello providing a powerful drone accompaniment. In his unassuming and dry-witted introduction, Peter Holman drew attention to the differences between the music played inside the court and the rustic alternative to be found outside in the street; and how nice it is when the performers actually take the trouble to talk to their audience.
Two more memorable items come to mind. The Sonata a Quattro in F minor by Alessandro Scarlatti, was described by Peter Holman as possibly the first instance of music written for string quartet. The manuscripts direct that the music be played 'senza cembalo' (without keyboard). With two violins, viola and cello playing with baroque bows and gut strings, this was quite enchanting in its gentle sonorities. Surprising and unforgettable too was the incredibly forward -looking and complex harmonic structure of the Passacaglia from Muffat's G major Sonata with its weird modulations.
Humour, wit, vigour, colour, a surprising range of dynamics, and huge enjoyment were the memories of this splendid recital, given in an entirely appropriate venue. Once again, the audience's engagement and enjoyment was enhanced by the evident pleasure on the faces of the performers making music together. (David Inman)
6 March 2004 Workshop Sessions
Parley of Instruments and Crispian Steele-Pperkins
On Saturday afternoon at Tonbridge School's Music School, 18 young musicians from Tonbridge schools were treated to two hours of top-class tuition from internationally acclaimed artists Crispian Steele-Perkins, trumpet, Peter Holman, keyboard and Judy Tarling, violin, prior to their Tonbridge Music Club concert with the Parley of Instruments. Crispian Steele-Perkins offered numerous technical and musical tricks of the trade to his young students, interspersing gems of advice with a fascinating demonstration of every possible form of trumpet from stone-age horn to the modern instrument. Judy Tarling and Peter Holman likewise shared their expertise in the field of Renaissance and Baroque violin and continuo playing.
String players who took part were violinists Christopher Parker and Dominik Burchette (The Judd School); string quartet Bethan Saunders, Lotte Andrews, Charlotte Andrew and Isabel Buckland (Tunbridge Wells Girls' Grammar School); and violinist Ebru Hack with pianist (Tonbridge Grammar School for Girls).
Brass players were Alex Smith, Berkin Hack, Maurice Holmes,Tim Fallow and Charles Gower Smith (Tonbridge School brass ensemble); Mike Collins, Adam Gillett and Nick Haslam (Tonbridge School); Richard Brightwell (The Judd School) and Sam Bull (Tunbridge Wells Grammar School for Boys.
Following the workshops most of the students were able to attend the superb concert given by Crispian Steele-Perkins and the Parley of Instruments that evening. All the students benefited hugely from this wonderful opportunity to 'meet the experts' and be coached by them. Congratulations to Tonbridge Music Club for arranging this exciting event. (Charles Vignoles)
Divertimenti - 8 May 2004
Delicate - and not so delicate - Dancing
If this seems a fanciful title for some comments on a concert, then consider a] what was the programme? And b] how it was performed. This comment piece is likely, for the most part, to be read at a distance of some five months, and should serve as a reminder of a marvellous evening's entertainment.
The concert was given by Divertimenti, a virtuoso string group led by violinist Paul Barritt, and including within its personnel such leading London professionals as cellist Sebastian Comberti, principal cello with both the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment and the London Mozart Players; Louise Williams, viola player with both the Endellion and Chilingirian Quartets and collaborator with the Lindsays, Coull, Sorrel and Takacs Quartets; Jonathan Barritt, sometime leader of the viola sections in the Philharmonia, London Symphony and BBC Symphony Orchestras.
The concert opened with that exercise in joyous and refined rapture, the Prelude to Richard Strauss's last opera, Capriccio. Acting as Prelude, not only to the opera, but also to this concert, Divertimenti admirably portrayed its cultured sensibilities, from Paul Barritt's violin quietly creeping in at the outset, through the more intense moments to its elegant conclusion. This was clearly going to be a performance to be reckoned with.
Next, Dvorak's String Sextet Op 48 was full of the open-air feel of rustic simplicity, and not- so-delicate country dancing. Divertimenti managed to tread to perfection the fine line between bucolic over-emphasis and a too refined understatement in this music so full of Dvorak's nationalistic fervour. The varied moods of the Dumka slow movement were drawn with admirable clarity, followed by a splendidly vigorous Furiant.
After the interval came a palate-cleansing sorbet in the form of four short pieces for four violins by the Polish composer Witold Lutoslawski. In contrast to the creamy richness of R Strauss and the Brahmsian textures of the Dvorak Sextet, these four short pieces, derived from folk melodies, provided a slightly acerbic harmonic flavour, yet full of humour. As leader Paul Barritt said when introducing them, it is not often that there are four violins available, so why not seize the opportunity to give them an airing. We were glad they did.
And so to the evening's centrepiece finale, the great Mendelssohn Octet. If ever there was a work that provided proof of the benefits of attending live music making, this is it. The piece is marvellous under any circumstances, but no amount of radio or recorded listening can ever take the place of seeing and hearing eight musicians working together, interacting and, in this work, clearly playing eight separate parts. One could see - and hear - two cellos, manifestly playing different parts 'against' each other. The sixteen-year-old Mendelssohn invented a new musical genre here, and his injunction that all parts should be played in symphonic style was perfectly executed by Divertimenti's members.
And the delicate dancing? Well, was there ever a more delicate gossamer dance than the Octet's Scherzo? The words from Goethe's Faust - which provided the inspiration for the movement, can not be bettered in describing it; 'Flite of clouds and trail of mist are lighted from above; A breeze in the leaves, a wind in the reeds, and all is blown away.'
And so to Sebastian Comberti's breakneck charge into the perpetuum mobile finale and the palpable and exultant energy of the eight musicians, the brief recollection of the scherzo until, at the end, all was indeed blown away. What a way to conclude a season! Thank you Divertimenti, for a wonderful evening. (David Inman)
The Lindsays - 9 October 2004
Playing The Music
Last month the Music Club audience were treated to an extraordinary demonstration of the art of string quartet playing. It was a special evening just for the fact that we shall not see/hear this remarkable quartet again. We were privileged to be included in their farewell season. Not that they are going to be idle, the sheer number of their projects is awesome, their diaries full; but no more quartet playing for us to be involved in. 'Involved', for any live music is a sum of the interaction between performer and audience, with The Lindsays more than most.
What is the magic of The Lindsays? Several conversations both during and after the concert only served to confirm that there was indeed such a magic. Their appearance on stage is unremarkable, their demeanour low-key. There is no overt showmanship, no platform histrionics. Yet, from the first notes one is drawn in to their world; a totally compelling experience. There is an instinctive intimacy among the four who give the impression of being four old friends getting together to play some music. Not four big bow-wow stars giving a 'performance'. Their spontaneity and communicative power is borne out by the total silence of the audience sharing the experience. What is it that produces that sublime stillness in the slow movement of the Haydn? The endless horizontal line, stretched it seems for ever, as in the peerless fourth movement of the Bartok Sixth Quartet, which had this listener on the edge of his seat, with breath held - only realised at the end of the 20-plus seconds of silence until the players released the tension by lowering their bows. Or the magical - that word again! - sudden pianissimo pizzicatos in the closing bars of the Beethoven or the glee with which they were performed. Countless other such examples exist, too numerous to list. Interesting too, to note how much of this imaginatively planned programme took place at a piano dynamic level.
You don't actually have to like Bartok, or even to understand him, or Haydn or Beethoven, although it's a fair bet that more people last month felt less comfortable with the former than the latter two. The important thing is that they experienced the music at a live performance - a very different experience from any radio or recording. You'll never hear a better one. Different maybe, not better. In fact Bartok's musical language is deeply rooted in the gypsy and folk music of Eastern Europe which can sound more modern than much of today's music, yet has existed for centuries.
The 17th century instruments The Lindsays play on are in themselves important, two Stradivarius, an Amati, and a Ruggieri cello, astonishingly beautiful, almost unique in their blend of tone quality. But instruments alone do not an ensemble make. In a conversation later in the evening first violin Peter Cropper nailed the answer to the 'magic' question.
'We don't play the instruments.' he said, 'We play the music.' The penny dropped.
Quite a farewell. (David Inman)
Stephen Hough review - Tonbridge Music Club - 6 November 2004
There's fireworks; and then there's - fireworks!
Any Tonbridge Music Club performer occupying the November slot has to run the gauntlet of the annual bangfest. Last year, it was Ilya Gringolts's playing of unaccompanied Bach that suffered, while several others, including Mitsuko Uchida and Radu Lupu have, in recent years, been,to one extent or another, savaged by the goings-on outside the West Kent College auditorium. This year it was Stephen Hough, making his first visit to the Music Club, who was exposed to the perilous and unpredictable barrage.
Stephen Hough does 'delicate' supremely well, he also does piano and pianissimo. He does loud and complicated too. Come to think of it he does pretty well everything. He proved himself to be the Compleat Pianist, in a programme of wide contrasts in style and content, showing just why he has become one of today's leading international virtuoso pianists. His playing exhibited a delicacy of touch and sensitivity of expression, allied to a formidable dynamic range where called for.
The first half of his programme - 'the Viennese half' -as he so charmingly put it in his after-the-interval comments to the audience, contained pieces in two widely differing styles - Berg and Schubert - (cue audience laughter). The concise Sonata Op 1 by Alban Berg, sounded almost like Debussy in Stephen Hough's perceptive hands. This led this writer to consult (his own) programme notes to check the date of composition of the other pieces in the programme, only to discover that apart from the Schubert Sonata, all were composed in just over two decades between 1887 (Granados Valses Poéticos) and 1910 (Debussy La Sérenade Interrompue), the last two showpiece items being of indeterminate contemporaneous date.
If the Schubert was a little more forthright than might have been expected, then it was being played on a 2004 Steinway and not an 1826 Viennese fortepiano. The approach suited the large scale of the work, which, under Stephen Hough's direction, sang, danced, and smiled its way through the kaleidoscope of moods conjured up by Schubert's, (in Alfred Einstein's words), 'most perfect and individual sonata'.
The fireworks came in the form of excerpts from Iberia by Albéniz, Ravel's Alborada del Gracioso, and the concluding item in the programme, Moszkowski's dazzlingly virtuosic Caprice Espagnol, all requiring extreme technical ability. It's one thing to be able to play the notes, however difficult; entirely another to link them to an interpretative sensitivity, with time to do both. Then to contrast the technical extremes with the gentle Albéniz Tango in Godowsky's transcription, or the lilt of Debussy's Soirée dans Grenade, requires technical and intellectual ability of a high order. Clearly to have fun doing so, and to communicate that to the audience as well, makes for a very special kind of experience for all concerned. One other aspect of Stephen Hough's playing was his ability to conjure up a sense of spontaneous fantasy, particularly in the Debussy Sérenade and Soirée dans Grenade - a shadowy feeling growing from beautifully articulated half-tones fading away into silence.
And those delicious encores? The softly nostalgic first was Das Alte Lied, a song recorded by Richard Tauber, and composed by one Henry Love - a lady, and unfortunately not recorded by one Stephen Hough. The rumbustious second was one of Stephen's own compositions, Osmanthus Romp, the name being that of a fragrant Japanese shrub, the title's initials being those of a friend of the pianist. (David Inman)
Musicians of the Globe - 4 December 2004
Shakespeare's Musick
'If music be the food of love, play on,'… Yes, indeed! And had the self-obsessed Orsino been fortunate enough to have Philip Pickett's Musicians of the Globe on hand at court he would never have followed it with 'Enough, no more, 'tis not so sweet as 'twas before'. For 'sweet' and 'exquisite' are just the words to describe the delicate sound-world of voice, fiddle, recorder, cittern, lute, bandora and viol that so enraptured us last night. And yet, how tantalising such an experience is, since as Philip Pickett is first to admit, we have no certainty as to what might really have been heard in the first performances of Twelfth Night or Othello, or what ballads and dances might have been interpolated into the action. What does seem certain, however, is that Shakespeare, Burbage and Henslow would have never been able to call on a more skilled set of performers than Adrian Chandler (violin), Arngeir Hauksson (cittern), Elizabeth Pallett (lute and bandora) and Catherine Finnis (viol da gamba) or indeed Philip Pickett himself on recorder.
The sophistication and versatility of the composers of Elizabethan and Jacobean times is well-known, composers such as Thomas Morley switching effortlessly from keyboard to consort to madrigals and songs, intended sometimes for performance by cultivated amateurs at home or by the highly-trained musicians at court. Pickett's ensemble treated us to several pieces from Morley's Consort Lessons. These dance movements, including the well-known La Volt, which might well have found a place as part of an evening's theatrical entertainment, were performed not just with panache and style but with immense artistry. As always with musicians of this quality, the ease with which the ensemble danced through Morley's intricate complexities of cross-rhythm and ornamentation left one gasping with awe and delight.
If Orsino would have been delighted to have Pickett's 'heavenly musick' at his court then Shakespeare would surely have died for the voice and presence of Joanna Lunn in the roles of Ophelia and Desdemona. For this listener, at least, the most moving moments of the evening were Joanna's singing of How should I your true love know (sung by Ophelia in her distraught grief at the death of her brother), and The poor soul sat sighing (the Willow Song sung by Desdemona moments before her death). Out of context, yes, but these most simple of ballad melodies, probably traditional, which may well have been sung in performances of Shakespeare's day, were delivered to perfection - absolute beauty and clarity of tone, exquisite (that word again!) enunciation and an unerring sense of the profound feeling of the text. We were spell-bound.
Yet not all was tragedy - comedy was lurking in the wings and sometimes centre stage, whether in the bawdy ballad Mother Watkin's Ale, sung with immense aplomb and a very wicked twinkle in the eye (quite another side to this exceptionally talented singer!) or in the person of Master of the Elizabethan Stage, John Ballanger. For this was not to be just a series of tantalising snippets of music of the time but an ingeniously shaped programme linking music and the theatre on several levels. While Pickett's consort entertained us with music from court and playhouse John Ballanger held the evening together with mime, jesting, conjuring, (we winced at those knives!) and comic routines reminding us that there is an unbroken thread of comic genius running through the English theatre from Tarleton (Queen Elizabeth's favourite jester) to Will Kemp who played the clown roles in Shakespeare's early plays, to Robert Armin who probably created the roles of Feste, Touchstone and Lear's fool, and on even to our own Mr Bean!
So as the final fizzing verse of Morley's madrigal 'Now is the Month of Maying' (forget for ever those stuttering school performances) came to a glorious conclusion it was wholly appropriate that it fell to our Master of the Elizabethan Stage John Ballanger to close the evening with a reminder of the one element missing in this most delightful and educative performance. As Macbeth's soliloquy 'Out, out, brief candle' rang out and the lights dimmed, we were brought to silence. It was a compelling moment and a touch of inspiration to hear Shakespeare's true music in the spoken word - words which conjured up the whole vast world of tragedy and comedy that lay behind our evening's entertainment.
Finally, a postscript. The theatrical nature of this event reminds us how lucky TMC is this season to have available the services of our lighting technician John Castle, who as a graduate student approaches his task at each concert with imagination and flair, never more so than for this evening's event.(Charles Vignoles)
Leopold String Trio - 7 May 2005
Farewell, West Kent College - and a missing Russian
The Leopold String Trio returned to Tonbridge after an absence of four years, bringing with them a greatly enhanced international reputation both as individuals and as a group, together with some Beethoven, Mozart and - well it should have been Taneyev; in the event it turned out to be David Matthews.
The change of programme was necessitated by the non-availability of the music for the Taneyev Trio and was notified to the Club just twenty-four hours before the concert. A little more notice would have been nice! As it was, the change was announced, in a barely audible manner, from the platform by one of the players. 'Nuff said. Unprofessional conduct: all the more disappointing in view of the stature of the artists.
Opening with the second of Beethoven's Op 9 Trios the listener was immediately struck by the satisfyingly rich sound produced by the Leopolds. Individually their tone qualities were rich and big-boned, Kate Gould's cello giving the firmest of foundations, Lawrence Power's wonderfully nutty viola sound filling the middle ground, with Marianne Thorsen's silky violin decorating or delineating the top line most beautifully. The result was a depth and weight of tone that belied the fact that there were only three participants.
This was followed by the substitute piece, the Second Trio by David Matthews, written just a year ago and based on the formalities of North Indian classical music. Perhaps the best summary was that of a regular member of the Club audience, an enlightened and knowledgeable music-lover, who commented, 'If I'd come across it on the radio I'd have turned it off. As it was, I was glad to hear - and see - it live'. The Indian content was perhaps mitigated by being played - albeit skilfully - on conventional instruments. Most of the effects came off, and, at twelve minutes in duration, the piece did not outstay its welcome.
Mozart's great Divertimento in E flat K 563 was the real centrepiece of the Leopolds' programme. All their strengths were put at the service of this wonderful work. Felicities abounded: Kate Gould's playing of the upward arpeggios at the opening of the Adagio, every note perfectly placed and centred, and with that gloriously singing tone that distinguished all her contributions; the hugely rich, seemingly endless viola tone produced by Lawrence Power when the tonality returned to the major in the Andante's endlessly complex variations; and finally, Marianne Thorsen's silvery filigree at speed in the same section. This was truly a performance to savour, distinguished by a wonderfully sustained sense of line, and - that elusive talent - the ability to fill the space between the notes. It almost made up for the loss of the Taneyev.
So, farewell West Kent College - the end of a season and of an era, for this listener an unlikely venue that really works: the wrong shape, the wrong materials, the wrong temperature (?!), but it manages to communicate music in all its wide variety. Let's see what 2007 (?) brings, when hopefully the Club can return to new and improved surroundings.
The concert was dedicated to the memory of Bernard Wheeler, who died on 9th April. Bernard was a long-time member and former Treasurer of the Club, as well as being a talented viola and keyboard player.(David Inman)
Škampa Quartet with Martin Roscoe
MUSICAL TRUTH
Making their long-awaited first appearance in Tonbridge - may it not be their last, please! - the four young musicians of the Škampa Quartet with pianist Martin Roscoe, gave an object lesson in ensemble playing that was a joy to hear, at the opening concert of the Club's 2005/6 season.
And what an intelligent piece of programme building: the elegance and polish of mature Mozart, the folk-inspired romanticism of Dvorák, followed by the acerbic wit and melancholy of middle period Shostakovitch. Both the latter two works were Music Club 'firsts', making a musical repast that would have been worthy of hearing in the context of any performance. These performers raised the standard of excellence to a rare high.
The Škampas play absolutely as one, with a quite extraordinary unanimity of attack and tonal quality. Two of their instruments coming from the same maker may have something to do with this, also that they opt to play standing is undoubtedly a factor. There is abundant pictorial evidence showing groups and ensembles of various sizes from the eighteenth century onwards, if not earlier, who play standing. There are many ensembles today, particularly in the period instrument field - Monica Huggett for instance - who prefer to play standing up. Such a position makes it easier for the group members to hear and see each other, gives many options for the ensemble to modify balance and colour while playing - for instance the viola turned towards the audience when playing the leading role in the Dvorák 'American' Quartet. Perhaps most of all, the players can position themselves closer to each other, resulting - in the Škampa's case - in an uncanny security and unanimity of phrasing, the result of eye contact, breathing, and body language.
Memorable moments there were aplenty: - the breathtaking pianissimi, barely audible, yet full-toned, and the sheer joyous ebullience of the Mozart's 6/8 final movement. The opening of Dvorák's first movement was, for once, not rushed, but taken fairly broadly, allowing ample time for the rich sound of Radim Sedmidubský's viola to make its full effect. There was a magical stillness in the slower passages of the Lento, and the natural way in which the chorale theme crept into the finale was mesmerising.
And so to the great Shostakovitch Piano Quintet, when Martin Roscoe, who gave a delightfully unstuffy introduction to the piece, joined the quartet. All of the work's shifting moods and colours were clearly delineated. The utter, mind-numbing bleakness of the muted violin's opening of the fugal second movement will stay in the mind for a long time, as will the sustained wistfulness of the Intermezzo, with its 'walking' pizzicato cello line following straight on from the ribaldry of the Scherzo - repeated at the work's first performance, as it was on this occasion, as a richly deserved encore.
A capacity audience clearly revelled in the experience. More please! (David Inman)
Amsterdam Loeki Stardust Quartet - 29 October 2005
Suites and Sweets
Just how many recorders can a group of four players play in an evening's recital? Ten? Fifteen? Twenty? When the Dutch virtuoso recorder group Amsterdam Loeki Stardust Quartet made a return visit to Tonbridge after nine years it was actually over thirty instruments of all shapes, sizes and colours from a sopranino just a few inches long, to a giant standing over six feet high. As their name suggests the group is not given to playing just consort music from earlier centuries, but is actually involved in the further development of the recorder as an instrument, and in broadening the repertoire, as their enterprising and entertaining programme showed - hence the title.
The first item was a Suite of four movements by Matthew Locke, starting with a single note, soon sliding into four-part harmony. Curious isn't it, how easily we are transported to the courts and palaces of the seventeenth century by just a few notes and a particular tone colour. Aural cues arising from our musical experience. And this raised one of the more interesting aspects of the whole evening. Would a naïf listener be transported in the same way? Four recorder players blowing into pipes of varying lengths is never going to involve much variation in tone colour. Recorders do not have reeds to buzz or modify what is essentially a smooth sound. Only the harmony and pitch is going to change. And yet, from the resonances of Locke's seventeenth century, minutes later we were plunged into a different world of twentieth century minimalism with Fulvio Caldini's Clockwork - Game. The precision playing - at speed - is, to say the least, breathtaking - pun intended! They topped that piece in the second half of the programme with 'Moondust' by the American Pete Rose. This was a real bebop 'chase' piece for three tenor recorders over a walking bass line, demanding control of absolutely the highest order. Anyone familiar with the classic Charlie Parker album Jazz at Massey Hall will know where that piece was coming from!
Purcell - the great Chaconne - and Handel put in an appearance, as did several other more modern composers, all given the same mind-boggling precision of thought and action on the part of these players who seemed to operate on some kind of ESP. Not the least fascinating aspect of the evening was watching the players picking and choosing the instrument for the next piece What are they going to play next?
The memorable organ-like sonorities of the Schubert song transcription played on what were the four lowest-pitched instruments stick in the mind. Incredibly difficult to play, this slow sustained music required barely credible breath control to maintain a big column of air resonating without variation.
One by-product of the ALSQ's visit was a most successful afternoon workshop for recorder soloists and groups from local schools. This was attended by more than thirty such groups and individuals and was immaculately organised by TMC Committee member Amanda Bull to whom thanks go from everyone involved, including the Amsterdammers, who enjoyed their visit thoroughly. (David Inman)
The Cardinall's Musick -3 December 2005
Sometimes timing is all, and the choice of The Cardinall's Musick to give TMC's third concert on a wet December evening at the start of Advent turned out to be a winner. Here were eight - or rather nine, since conductor Andrew Carwood both sang and directed - superb professional singers drawn from that elite group of specialists who sing in this and other such illustrious ensembles as The Tallis Scholars and The Sixteen.
In the first half of Andrew Carwood's brilliantly constructed programme, aptly titled 'Angels and Archangels', Victoria's sumptuous Advent Mass Missa Alma redemptoris mater was interwoven with the Gregorian chants from which much of the music for the Mass is derived. In this wonderful sequence The Cardinall's Musick created an extraordinary sense of atmosphere and period. Shut your eyes and you were instantly transported to one of Spain's great cathedrals. Open them and you were astonished to discover that Victoria's opulent eight-part setting was being sung by just eight solo voices, a capella. With flawless tuning and ensemble, and apparently effortlessly sustained legato phrasing, the individual lines of the polyphony could be heard with absolute clarity, to stunning effect. Victoria's music, deceptively simple on the page, carries a powerful emotional impact and this fine performance did it full justice.
The second half of the programme developed the 'Angels and Archangels' theme more widely. With Andrew Carwood's witty and informative introductions to help us on our way we were led from the Salutation Carol of the 15th century to one of the highlights of the evening, two works by the young composer Matthew Martin, happily present in the audience. Here, and in the extremely difficult setting of Plebs Angelica by Michael Tippett, Carwood's singers showed their complete technical mastery. Martin's pieces were a delight, the first, Ecce Concipies, conveying in staccato, breathless phrases, the Virgin Mary's sense of unease at Gabriel's alarming message, and the second, O magnum mysterium, creating a true sense of awe and wonder. But it was in their return to the Renaissance music at which this ensemble excels that The Cardinall's Musick once again showed their true mettle. Richard Dering's 16th-century motet Factum est silentium, in the 'stile concitato' style (agitated style, familiar to lovers of Monteverdi) pictured the calm before the storm of a war in Heaven (again, with just eight voices, such clarity!). Finally a starkly projected unison Litany reminded us of our sinful state before The Cardinall's Musick ended the programme with Heinrich Isaac's monumental six-voice motet, Angeli, Archangeli.
Ended? Well not quite, since the applause rightly demanded more and Andrew Carwood had the perfect encore to hand - Pettman's magical setting of the Basque carol 'The Angel Gabriel from Heaven came'. Here the qualities of this outstanding group were once more evident: superb voices, blended to perfection, capable of extraordinary flexibility, with consummate musicianship and ensemble only to be equalled by the finest string quartets - an angelic visitation indeed. Those who were unable - or possibly even reluctant? - to come to this concert of comparatively unfamiliar music missed a rare treat. (Charles Vignoles)
Adrian Brendel & Tim Horton - 11 February 2006
For music lovers, be they players or just listeners, there are few pleasures in life greater than sharing or making music with a friend or friends.
Adrian Brendel and Tim Horton, clearly good friends themselves, achieved just that in Big School on February 11th with a group of friends - around three hundred of them! These two young men have that priceless gift of drawing their audience in to their music making. This is a quality that TMC has always placed high on its list of priorities. The degree of communication between platform and audience is a critical factor in the (paying) audience's enjoyment of the event. Basically, if the players are having a good time, then the audience is that much more likely to as well. These two young men exhibited a unanimity of phasing and dynamic that makes for rewarding duo playing. There was naturalness and effortlessness about their phrasing that was a joy to hear. As one overheard comment put it, 'They were really together'.
The Debussy Sonata is one of those works that needs to be heard live. Its enigmatic content and unusual sound world was given a mesmerising reading by both players. Adrian Brendel's characterisation of the contrasting florid arabesques, and the extended range, both up and downward that Debussy asks for was the stuff of imagination.
Making a convincing case for this enigmatic music is not easy. The Brendel/Horton pair led us through the fragments with sure hands, always knowing where the music was going.
Adrian Brendel's cello-playing throughout the evening never drew attention to itself by any overt gesture that might have seemed exaggerated or out of place. He plays with a fine sweep of rich resonant tone, capable of being fined down to a whisper without ever becoming thin: technique and intellect always at the service of the music. In this he is very much his father's son.
Tim Horton is a fine and, when needed, powerful, pianist. His exposition of melodic lines is of exemplary clarity and phrasing as in the opening bars of the big Chopin G minor sonata, the centrepiece of the programme. One was glad of the opportunity to hear this big muscular work. The duo managed to encompass all its moods, from the stormy first movement, yet with that small still second subject episode making one hold one's breath. The intermezzo-like second movement led to a most beautifully poised rendering of the exquisite Largo before launching into the finale.
The Mendelssohn Sonata which opened their recital, and the frankly show-off Chopin salon piece which closed it were despatched with similar qualities to the centrepieces, the Polonaise brillante making a superb, balanced and satisfying finish.
Adrian Brendel and Tim Horton are a duo very much greater than the sum of their parts who, with intelligent programming, gave the Club yet another memorable evening's music. (David Inman)
