A Recital from Żelazowa Wola

I have been enjoying many of the recitals from Żelazowa Wola, Chopin’s idyllic birthplace outside Warsaw, which comes to us on Sunday afternoons. Today’s artist was the distinguished Polish pianist and pedagogue, Zbigniew Raubo.

 

The opening work, the Mazurka in A-flat major, Op. 50, No. 2 was played with a dignity, an elegance, richness of tone and depth of sound, as well as a complete identification with the style of this music. The rubato was natural and never sounding affected. In the Mazurka in C-sharp minor, Op. 50, No. 3, Chopin’s supreme masterpiece amongst all the mazurkas, Raubo effectively contrasted the range of moods laid out by the composer, taking us all through a panoramic sonic and emotional journey.

 

The artist continued his performance with the Ballade in F minor, Op. 52, playing the opening theme with simplicity, but a panoply of sound colours and tones. Raubo was in complete control of every element of this large work, clearly threading his way through the work’s complex polyphony, and imbuing the work with absolute organic unity, rather than merely a disparate series of beautiful moments. His playing here highlighted the otherworldly beauty of Chopin’s melodic invention, especially in the late works. The treacherously difficult coda was played with a resounding virtuosity and absolute confidence. I found his playing of this great late work of the composer supremely moving.

 

Raubo continued his recital with the Waltz in A-flat major, Op. 34, No. 1, playing this light-hearted work with an easy elegance and effectively conveying the high-spirits and overwhelming joyousness of this music. 

 

In the Nocturne in C minor, Op. 48, No. 1, Raubo’s playing brought across the gravity, high tragedy and utter seriousness of the music. The depth of sound and full tone in his playing served this work particularly well. In the middle chorale-like section, he voiced the chords beautifully, and effectively paced the build-up to the cataclysmic climax before the return of the opening theme, painting a picture of an utterly and completely desolate landscape. 

 

The sadness of the nocturne is immediately dispelled by the beautiful opening passage of the Andante Spianato and Grande Polonaise, Op. 22, for me one of Chopin’s most technically and musically demanding works. Raubo understood the bel canto nature of the Andante section completely, playing the Bellini-like melody with a beguiling beauty of sound. The transitional section was played with a complete identification with the rhythmic intricacies of the music, and transitioning into the brilliance of the Polonaise with complete logic. The Grande Polonaise was played with supreme elegance, as well as utter brilliance and resounding virtuosity.

 

How fortunate we are that even in this time of isolation and uncertainty, we can still enjoy the musical offerings from faraway places, thanks to the wonders of technology. I was thankful for Raubo for his memorable performance. This wonderful series of recitals has brought us performances by many highly gifted young performers. But Raubo’s playing demonstrated an artistry of a higher order, as well as an understanding of the composer’s aesthetics and musical invention that comes from a lifetime of study, practice and maturation. For me, this was and is an artist and musician that shows a complete identification with the music of Chopin. 

 

I had been saddened by news of the postponement of the International Chopin Competition in Warsaw, as I was looking forward to my first visit to Poland. I hope that medicine and science will give us the solution to overcome the Corona virus, so that I will have an opportunity to visit the fabled land of Chopin, Arthur Rubinstein and Saint John-Paul II.

 

 

 

 

 

An Online Musical Experience

Pianist Tomasz Ritter, winner of the 1^st International Chopin Competition for Period Instrument, gave an online all-Chopin recital under the auspices of The Vancouver Chopin Society and Early Music Vancouver. 

 

Even in an age where there are so many excellent, outstanding pianists, true Chopin interpreters are relatively rare. 

 

Tomasz Ritter is a true Chopin player.

 

Playing on an 1847 Broadwood piano – the same manufacturer of piano Chopin used for his final concert tour of England and Scotland – Ritter draws a rich sound and a diverse palette of colours from this instrument. Unlike modern instruments, period pianos call for an artist who knows how to work with the instrument.

 

Ritter’s playing captured my attention right from the first chords of the Nocturne in C-sharp minor, Op. Posth. I love his pacing of this intimate work, transitioning from the lyrical opening, to the more animated middle section, and returning to the opening theme. 

 

His playing of the opening of the Etude in E minor, Op. 25, No. 5 is a little more pedaled than I am used to hearing, thereby giving the music a slightly different, less scherzando-like character. The gorgeous middle section is played with a warm sound as well as an attention to details to the musical texture.

 

The pianist gives a deeply felt performance of the justly famous Etude in E major, Op. 10, No. 3. I have always found it interesting that Chopin originally indicated vivace (fast, lively) as a tempo marking for the work. Whether or not the composer was thinking of a very different character for the piece, or whether it was an error, we would never know. Perhaps the composer is warning future pianists not to “drag” the music, or to milk the beautiful melody for all that it is worth. I appreciate Ritter’s tempo choice in his performance. He brings out all the otherworldly beauty of the music, but keeps the horizontal flow of the musical line. 

 

Ritter’s keen sense of the musical line is again apparent in his performance of the Waltz in A minor, Op. 34, No. 2. Under the wrong hands, this music can end up sounding lugubrious. Not so under this young artist’s hands. He strikes a perfect balance between the melancholy colours of the music, but at the same time making the music float in air.

 

The Etude in C minor, Op. 10, No. 12 is given a highly dramatic reading. At the same time, no matter how heightened the drama may be, there is always an indelible sense of musicality in his sound.

 

His playing of the composer’s Nocturne in D-flat major, Op. 27, No. 2 captures my attention not only in the richness and beauty of sound, but with a palpable sense of flow and in maintaining the forward motion of the music. 

 

In the three larger scale works that follow, Ritter really makes full use of the power and projection of the instrument. He plays the opening of the relatively rarely played Polonaise in E-flat minor, Op. 26, No. 2, with tremendous energy and sweep, and also captures perfectly the unique rhythmic character of the dance form, especially in the somewhat quirky middle section. 

 

Tomasz Ritter plays the Ballade No. 3 in A-flat major, Op. 47 with a sense of buoyancy to the music, as well as with a sense of totality, not merely one episode after another of beautiful moments. He has an absolutely clear sense of the voice leading as well as the intricate counterpoint within the music. In the coda, he conveys the sense of an overflowing and overwhelming sense of joy.

 

In the Scherzo No. 1 in B minor, Op. 20, Ritter captures both the demonic as well as angelic qualities that Chopin set as stark contrasts against each other. In the dramatic opening section, he conveys the frightful, phantasmagoric quality of the piano writing. I was deeply moved by his playing of the beautiful middle section, based on the Polish Christmas carol, “Sleep, Little Jesus”, and completely drawn into this incredibly intimate moment, where the composer appears to be baring his soul. From the first notes, to the cataclysmic coda that ends the work, Ritter is in complete control of both the pianistic and musical elements of this complex work. 

 

Even though I am hearing the music with the limited fidelity of my computer speakers, Ritter’s obvious pianistic talents, as well as the maturity of his musical thoughts, come through loud and clear. He captures every facet of Chopin’s creative genius, the organic unity of each work rather than a series of beautiful but unrelated moments. He captures the sentiments of the music, but without sentimentality.

 

At this point, we do not yet know when live musical performances will return. But we can avail ourselves, through technology, of the seemingly limitless musical offerings that we can find in cyberspace. 

 

Tomasz Ritter is obviously a young musician to watch. I look forward to the day when he will be able to come over to these shores and share his talent with us in person.

 

 

 

Glenn Gould and the Art of Social Distancing

During this strange period of “social distancing”, the one person I think of immediately is Glenn Gould.

Glenn Gould’s entire life was about self-isolation and social distancing, about being in the world and not of the world. He lived alone in one of his many abodes, and communicated with his friends and associates by letter, and – for those fortunate few – via telephone conversations lasting hours. Gould despised the idea of a live performance, the “non take-twoness” of a concert, and went through hell before each performance he had to give during his concert years. He thought of a live audience is “a force of evil”. He wrote an article entitled “Let’s Ban Applause”, and sincerely believed that recordings are the way of the future.

And of course there is his landmark and groundbreaking trilogy of radio documentaries, often referred to as the “solitude trilogy”. The first and arguably the most original, The Idea of North, reflects upon the idea of people who, for one reason or another, chose to live in the far north of Canada. The Latecomersaddresses the lives of people who live in Newfoundland out ports. Finally, The Quiet in the Land paints a portrait of Mennonite life in Red River, near Winnipeg, Manitoba. The “characters” in this final documentary talks about the influence of contemporary society on traditional Mennonite values.

In his own life, Gould was careful about whom he associated with. Even with his closest friends, there seemed to have been a bit of a barrier, a shield that prevented people from getting too close. Artist Cornelia Foss, wife of the great American musician Lukas Foss, who once left her husband, relocated to Toronto with her two children, and lived with Gould for years, until Gould’s later idiosyncrasies[1] made life with him impossible. I seriously doubt that Gould would have been capable of the routines involved in family life.

Even in his music making, there seems to be something aloof, something unreachable and otherworldly, about the beauty he created at the piano. Perhaps that is part of the appeal, what moves us so much about Gould’s playing. In the words of Yehudi Menuhin, “To contemplate Glenn is to ask why God had made the world, and why in just six days.”

I will forever remember the filmed performance of his final recording of the Goldberg Variations. At the end of the performance, we see Gould, alone in a darkened studio, slowly lifting his hands from the keyboard and then bowed his head as if in prayer. It is a supremely moving moment after a supremely moving performance, an artist alone in the world.

Gould would probably have been quite amused at people’s reaction to this enforced isolation, and wonder what the fuss is all about.

Perhaps we should heed Gould’s life and philosophy, and treasure this time of solitude as a time to think, to ponder, to pray.

Patrick May

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[1] Gould was infamous for multi-doctoring, and would get multiple and unnecessary prescriptions for tranquillizers and other medications that - we now know - have serious central nervous system side effects. The great artists purported idiosyncrasies in his later life would have been, at least partly, a result of a drug-induced alteration of his personality.

The Passenger

Last evening I had the privilege of attending the Canadian premiere of Mieczysław Weinberg’s opera Pasażerka (The Passenger), sung by the many talented students of the University of British Columbia’s (UBC’s) Opera School, the UBC Opera Ensemble, the Vancouver Opera Orchestra, and ably led by conductor David Agler.

According to the programme notes, the opera’s story is adapted from a 1962 radio play by Polish author and Auschwitz survivor, Zofia Posmysz, with libretto by Alexaner Medvedev. In another article, I discovered that Posmysz was arrested by the Germans in Krakow, sent to Auschwitz, but survived the experience because she was put to work in the kitchen, and subsequently became the book-keeper under SS Overseer Aufseherin Anneliese Franz, who became one of two main characters of the opera. Working as a journalist in Paris after the war, she overheard a woman whom she thought was Anneliese Franz. This sowed the seed for the story, as Posmysz imagined how she would react if she actually met Franz again.

The story started off as a radio play, and then a novel. In the novel, she reverses the situation to the form presented in the opera: Anneliese Franz was now married, and was traveling on a ship with her husband to take up a diplomatic post in Brazil. On the ship, she saw a young woman whom she knew well in Auschwitz, but thought had perished. The vision of this woman – indeed I wondered throughout the performance whether this “passenger” was real, or an extension of Franz’s guilty conscience – led her to confess her Nazi past to her surprised husband. The story of the opera then switches from present to past and back again.

Not knowing the music beforehand, and not having the score with me, it is only possible for me to make generalized observations and comments. Given the composer’s closeness to Shostakovich, I was trying to detect influences of the great Soviet composer. Indeed, in some of the orchestration, as well as in the angular melodies of the lyrical passages, there are hints of some form of influence by Shostakovich, but Weinberg’s musical language is totally and absolutely his own. The music of the camp is dramatic, brutal, almost deliberately ugly, but the vocal writing of some of the lyrical scenes gave us not only emotional relief, a brief escape from the harsh reality of this hell on earth. In Act II, Scene III, when the SS guards suddenly burst into the women’s barrack, and one by one various passengers was taken away, the prisoners’ exhortation for the survivors never to forget these crimes, was extremely powerful and moving. In the same scene, one of the prisoners who was Russian, sang an unaccompanied solo song describing her country, the result was also chilling and emotional. In the epilogue of the opera, when the entire chorus once again exhorts all of us not to forget these crimes against humanity, it brought about not only a moving conclusion to the music, but an almost cathartic experience. 

The voices from last night’s cast were uniformly strong, Leila Kirves as Lisa (Anneliese Franz) and Catherine Thornsley as Marta the passenger, were outstanding. Thornsley’s sensitive and emotional singing really highlighted the compassion and humanity of Marta. It is credit to director (and head of the UBC Opera School) Nancy Hermiston that all of the roles were well cast. Kudos also to Professor Hermiston and the set designer for the simple but effective set - the choir loft of the Chan Centre became the deck of the ocean liner, while the main stage was set as the concentration camp - a highly imaginative use of a space that was not at all meant for opera!

The Vancouver Opera Orchestra rose to the technical and musical challenges of Weinberg’s writing, and the highly experienced Maestro David Agler guided the young singers with an able hand. 

On the whole, UBC Opera’s production of Pasażerka was a searing and moving theatrical experience. For me, it is not the kind of music one could merely listen to, but one that has to be experienced in toto. I feel that Weinberg’s music serves as a kind of catalyst to bring the drama alive. Judging from the silence of last night’s audience, I believe that all of us fortunate enough to have shared this experience would not easily forget it. Surely we could all be reminded not only of this ugly chapter in our recent history, but of the potential of man’s cruelty to his or her fellow human beings.

Patrick May

A Welcome Return

Maestro Jun Märkl’s now annual concert with the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra has become the highlight of my concert season in the city. On Saturday, the charming and energetic Märkl once again worked his magic and gave us a not-to-be-forgotten performance of works from the French orchestral repertoire.

Members of the orchestra, reduced to chamber music proportions, gave a sensitive reading of Pierre Boulez’s Memoriale…(…explosante-fixe…originel), with acting principal flute Chris James setting the tone with his evocative playing. The version played at the concert was part of a much larger work by the composer. Märkl and the musicians gave a performance that not so much exploited the resources of each instrument, but formed a collage of sound colours. Such a performance of a piece such as Boulez’s confirmed in my mind that dissonances – itself a relative term – can indeed be beautiful, albeit it perhaps a different kind of beauty.

The orchestra returned and Märkl led them through a beautifully balanced, impeccably paced performance of Maurice Ravel’s Pavane pour une infant defunte. Märkl brought out the beauty of Ravel’s orchestral colours in the strings, the French horn and the woodwinds. There was a souplesse, a subtlety in the sound of the orchestra, as well as a depth, or a sense of layers, in the sound of the strings. The performance of this intimate masterpiece had a glow in the sound, from first note to last. 

Cellist István Várdai joined Märkl and the orchestra in a dashing performance of Saint-Saëns’ Cello Concerto No. 1 in A minor, Op. 33. From his first entrance, Várdai captured my ears with his arresting sound and depth of tone. His playing of the lyrical transition to the second movement was not only beautiful, but also charged with meaning. In the second movement, Várdai played with an intimate, confiding tone that left the audience breathless, and in the third movement, soloist, conductor and orchestra squeezed out every ounce of this music’s Gallic charm. In his recording with pianist Ingrid Fliter (Chopin concerti) as well as last year’s performance with Yefim Bronfman (Brahms’ second piano concerto), Märkl proved himself not only a sensitive accompanist but also a gallant collaborator in concerti performances. He managed to direct our attention to the soloist, but he also lavished great attention to every detail in the score, and brought out every detail of Saint-Säens brilliant orchestration.

I was of course eagerly anticipating Märkl and the orchestra’s reading of Hector Berlioz’s revolutionary masterwork, Symphonie fantastique, Op. 14 – and Saturday’s performance confirmed in my mind that, indeed, after almost two hundred years, this music still sounds revolutionary on so many different levels.

The beauty of the playing conjured by Märkl captured my attention right from the opening triplets in the woodwinds. At measure 6, there was a stunningly beautifully-shaped two-note slur by the strings before the fermata – a small detail perhaps, but the devil, as they say, is in the detail. At measure 13, Märkl already made me aware of the many layers of sound colours in the score. At rehearsal 2, the strings played with a radiant beauty of tone. Obviously the conductor had thought carefully about voicing, and this showed even in the brief two measures before rehearsal 4. The first brief climax at rehearsal was paced such that this arrival had a real sense of occasion, of arrival, and of a sense of inevitability in the music. Roger Cole shone with his gorgeous playing of the brief oboe solo at rehearsal 16. In the movement’s coda, the delicate line for first violins was filled with an ardent feeling, and give feeling that the music was hanging by a thread. There was a true feeling of reverence (Berlioz’s marking at measure 513 was “Religiosamente”) in the beautifully voiced ending to the movement. In short, I have rarely heard this first movement played with such a sense of indescribable, hopeless yearning. 

Märkl evoked a magical atmosphere in the beginning of Un bal. The conductor really captured the feel of the waltz rhythms in this movement, and the orchestra’s playing here can be described, in every sense of the word, as suave. The appearance of the Idée fixe at measure 120 gave the feeling of an apparition, and the build-up to the ending of the movement literally took my breath away.

Again, the conductor immediately set the mood of the Scène aux champs, with the oboe and English horn echoing each other. There was such a hushed quality in the music, such a mood of emptiness, stillness, and perhaps desolation (I’m not sure if Märkl intended this) that reminded me of the opening of the third act of Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde. At measure 46, the orchestra played with an incredible elasticity in sound as well as with a velvety, rich tone. And at rehearsal 41, the celli and basses played with an indelible power and depth of sound. The violins played with a true pianississimo at rehearsal 43, providing a fabric of sound for the clarinet solo above the texture. The distant thunder at the end of the movement was truly vivid, and had almost a cinematic quality to it. 

In the dramatic opening to the fourth movement (Marche au supplice) the sound evoked by conductor and orchestra had a palpable eeriness and a feeling of malevolence. In this as well as the fifth movement, members of the orchestra played with inspiration and with a rousing virtuosity that wanted to make one stand up and cheer.  I would like to especially highlight the breathtaking and breath-stopping playing of the bassoonist Julia Lockhart in her extended solo at measure 50. The playing of this march had a real sense of direction, of forward motion, and the musicians gave us the feeling of witnessing an awesome spectacle. I loved Märkl’s dramatic pacing of the lead up to the great climax at measure 123. 

Märkl brought out the feeling of evil and decay in the opening of the Songe d’une nuit du sabbat. Even with this familiar music, Saturday’s performance conveyed an element of surprise in the many orchestral effects, as well as the inherent weirdness of the music, especially in the “corrupted” version of the Idée fixe at measure 46. As in the fourth movement, there was a palpable sense of inevitability in the forward motion of the music until the bright sound of the final chord.

There was a story about conductor Arthur Nikish arriving for a rehearsal of Tchaikovsky’s fifth symphony to a group of tired, sullen musicians. Within a few minutes, Nikish whipped the musicians into such a frenzy of excitement that they were playing like fiends! Indeed, a major aspect of the art of conducting is psychological. On Saturday, it was obvious that every member of the ensemble wanted to be there, and wanted to play well. On top of his obviously impeccable musicianship, I believe Märkl has this great indescribable gift of inspiring his fellow musicians to give their utmost. The smiles on the musicians’ faces were a welcomed sight. Once again, the concert confirmed my impression, formed after his first appearance in Vancouver, that this is a great conductor and musician.

So, once again, welcome back to Vancouver, Maestro Jun Märkl. We hope to have you back every season, and more!

Patrick May

Zubin Mehta and Mahler's "Resurrrection"

Conductor Zubin Mehta returned to “his” orchestra in Los Angeles for a series of concerts to begin the New Year. In the 1960’s and 1970’s, the names “Zubin Mehta and the Los Angeles Philharmonic” were synonymous, and it was this musical marriage that put the orchestra on the musical map, dispelling the idea of the “big five” American orchestras worthy of mention. Since then, the orchestra had had a number of fine music directors, and Mehta had also been at the helm of many orchestras and opera companies. Even so, there is something special when the conductor returns to make music with the orchestra of the city that he still considers one of his homes.

I was fortunate to have been in Los Angeles this past weekend, and was therefore in the orchestra’s beautiful home of the Walt Disney Concert Hall for Mehta’s stunning reading of Mahler’s Symphony No. 2 in C minor, more commonly known as “Resurrection”. The performing forces for this massive work also included soprano Chen Reiss, mezzo-soprano Mihoko Fujimura, as well as the Los Angeles Master Chorale (under the expert direction of Grant Gershon).

Mehta has always been a champion of this work, and his early recording of it with the Vienna Philharmonic is still in the catalogue, a remarkable achievement given the number of recordings available. Since then, his interpretation has matured, and Friday night’s performance positively glowed with a beautiful burnished quality in the sound of the orchestra. Indeed the hallmark of any performance by Zubin Mehta is the beauty of the sound he elicits from whichever orchestra he is leading.

I wasn’t quite prepared for the energy with which Mehta and the orchestra tore into the opening of the first movement. Mehta effectively observed Mahler’s accelerando marking for the C minor scale at m. 4, giving the music a real sense of direction and drive. The Los Angeles cellists and double bassists played with the requisite thickness and pesante quality the music calls for. The violins played the rising motif at rehearsal 3 with great warmth and tenderness, giving real contrast and a sudden shift of mood from the storminess of the opening. Mehta conjured up a truly awesome apocalyptic vision at the orchestra outburst at rehearsal 15 (schnell), and the brief passage of triplet figures at rehearsal 20 (Molto pesante) was played with an incredible sense of urgency. The descending scale that ends the movement (rehearsal 27), with its lengthened silence (Mahler indicated a ritenuto marking over the rests – before the two final C’s), left the audience truly breathless. 

In this opening movement, Mehta highlighted for me, perhaps for the first time, the startling "weirdness" inherent in Mahler's orchestral writing.

The Ländler that makes up the second movement betrayed Mehta’s Viennese upbringing, and the music overflowed with warmth and abundant emotion. The musicians certainly rose to Mahler’s indication of Sehr germächlich. Conductor and musicians played the music with an overwhelming sense of flow, making the music sound like it was drawn from a single breath from beginning to end. Even the dramatic outburst at rehearsal 6 (Energisch bewegt) could not dispel the overall mood. The quiet transition back to the Ländler at rehearsal 12 was simply magical, and the arrival of the beautiful legato theme by the violins had a real feeling of inevitability to it. Mehta’s timing of the ending of the movement was done to perfection. 

Mahler took us out of our brief reverie with two arresting notes by the timpani, launching us into the Scherzo. Mehta expertly guided the musicians through the many shifting moods of this movement, inviting rather than commanding the orchestra as they traverse the musical landscape. This movement, more than others, is a real showcase for the solo wind and brass players, and the virtuosi of the Los Angeles Philharmonic rose to Mahler’s challenge with aplomb and with flair.

Mezzo-soprano Mihoko Fujimura sang the otherworldly “Urlicht” with great depth of feeling, Mehta and the orchestra supported her with a beautiful cushion of sound. The feeling and mood conjured by Fujimura were matched by the orchestra’s horns and trumpets. Here, Mehta conjured up not just beauty but an incredible depth in the sound, giving the music a truly innigkeit quality.

I remember one critic writing of Mehta’s recording of Mahler’s 3^rd symphony, that he really had a special way with Mahler finales. This was evident in how conductor and orchestra played this vast movement with a sense of inevitability and of organic unity. The incredible opening of the movement was not merely dramatic, but awe-inspiring, as if the heavens were really opening. In the grosse Appell section, the music took on a very spacious quality, and Mehta and the orchestra painted a bleak sonic landscape. The brief flute solo was hauntingly played.

Is there any symphonic work that rouses our emotions like the finale of this work? Mehta gauged the many levels of sound carefully, and expertly built the music to its emotional peak. Unlike so many “star” conductors, he did not try to pack a punch and knock us out with maximum volume, but always kept the beauty of both the instrumental and vocal sounds. No matter how shattering the climaxes were – and there were many – there was always the feeling of something in reserve.  The result was a performance that did not seek to “impress”, but rather served as an invitation for everyone to share in communion with both the beauty of the music and the emotion it conveys. 

Friday’s night performance was one where all the elements came together. Perhaps because of Mehta’s preeminence, particular in Los Angeles, it felt that every single member of the orchestra and chorus wanted to give their all. I felt extremely privileged to have experienced this stupendous musical experience. Mr. Mehta seemed to have been much more physically robust than I have seen him in a long time. All we could wish for is many more years of good health, so that he could give us many more memorable performances like the one we witnessed. 

Patrick May

A Glorious "Messiah"

Early Music Vancouver’s presentation of Handel’s Messiah was probably the most overwhelmingly spiritual, emotional, and musical experience in all my years of encountering this familiar work. Last Saturday, details I had never heard leapt out from the score under the imaginative and inspiring direction of conductor Ivars Taurins. The Pacific Baroque Orchestra joined forces with the Vancouver Cantata Singers (sounding great under their director Paula Kremer) and four outstanding soloists who delivered a truly indelible and moving musical experience.

The opening Sinfony was played with great energy and a wonderful sense of occasion. When the A section was repeated, rather than merely playing it softer, as is the usual custom, Taurins varied the dynamics and colours a great deal more in the repeat.

I have rarely heard a performance where there was such a merging of the words being sung and the orchestral colours. In “Comfort ye”, tenor Thomas Hobbs mellifluous voice was resting on a sort of cushion of string sound. I liked the conductor’s tempo choice in the aria, “O thou that tellest good tidings to Zion”, giving the music a wonderful sense of movement. In the brief prestissimo introduction and the accompaniment to “For he is like a refiner’s fire”, conductor and string players conjured up with those rapid 16^th-notes an effect like flickering flame. In the recitativo accompagnato and aria that follows, the string colours and the way the musicians played those two-note slurs matched perfectly bass Peter Harvey deeply-felt singing of “For behold, darkness shall cover the earth” and “The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light”. 

In the aria, “He shall feed his flock like a shepherd”, the tempo set by Taurins and the way the strings were coloured created a real sense of repose. As well, the brief postlude was truly beautifully played, and echoed the emotions of the words just being sung. In the aria, “He was despised”, the strings played the descending figures with a sense of real sorrow and vulnerability, matching perfectly the strikingly poignant singing of alto Krisztina Szabó. For me, the feeling of the aria was even more deeply felt in the repeat of the A section. There was an incredibly hushed quality in the music at the words, “A man of sorrows and acquainted with grief”. With the words “He gave his back to the smiters”, the attack of the dotted-rhythmic figures made a sound like hitting, evoking the image of Christ’s scourging. Then in the introduction to the bass aria, “Why do the nations so furiously rage together”, Taurins whipped up a real sense of urgency in the orchestral playing. 

The solo voices were uniformly excellent. Joanne Lunn’s singing of the recitatives conveyed a sense of wonder that I found incredibly moving: 

And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them… / And the angel said unto them: Fear not, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy… / And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host.

Her singing of the aria, “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion” was exhilarating in its lightness as well as its sense of musical pulse. Lunn’s singing of the aria’s many melisma passages was breathtaking. In the aria, “How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel of peace”, Lunn handsomely handled the subtle shift from G minor to B-flat major in the opening phrases. Kirsztina Szabó’s singing of “He shall feed His flock like a shepherd” truly brought across the overwhelming compassion of the words. Tenor Thomas Hobbs has an acute sense of the timing of the music. In the brief recitative, “He that dwelleth in heaven shall laugh them to scorn; the Lord shall have them in derision”, he delivered the lines with an incredible sense of urgency. Peter Harvey sang the aria, “Why do the nations so furiously rage together” with wonderful energy and a resounding virtuosity. In “The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light”, he sang this great bass aria with real drama, making use of the brief eighth-note rests (for instance, at four measures after B) to great effect. Yet, in the recitative, “Behold I tell you a mystery” was sung with a confiding tone. 

The players of the Pacific Baroque Orchestra played with their usual high standard. In “The trumpets shall sound”, solo trumpet Alexis Basque shone with his beautiful shaping of phrases as well as its musicality. Having the two trumpets playing from the side of the choral loft during “Glory to God” was an inspired idea - Handel’s instructions are for the trumpeters to play “from a distance and rather softly.”

Last month’s Remembrance Day concert confirmed the Vancouver Cantata Singers’ status as one of the city’s finest choral groups. In that concert as well as for this past weekend’s Messiah performance, the group sang with their usual musicality, but also with intelligence and imagination. The singers responded to the lively tempo in “And the glory the glory of the Lord” and sang with amazing lightness and agility. In “And He shall purify” and in “All we like sheep”, the melismata were sung with a silken smoothness. In “And He shall purify”, there was a purity of sound and a lightness of texture.  There was a genuine feeling of exhilaration in “For unto us a Child is born”. The chorus “Surely, surely He hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows” was delivered with great energy and power. In “And with His stripes we are healed” the choir sang the music with varied, almost instrument-like, articulation, and a wonderful flexibility. There was an appropriately mocking quality and a suitable disjointedness in the vocal line, in their singing of “He trusted in God that He would deliver Him”. This disjointed quality of the vocal line also worked to wonderfully dramatic effect in “Let us break their bonds asunder”.  

The justly famous “Hallelujah” chorus was sung with a real sense of occasion, and certainly with the requisite majesty and grandeur. The varied dynamics in the phrase, “King of Kings, and Lord of Lords” added to the drama of the music. The choir sang the opening of “Since by man came death” (Grave) with beautiful blending, an organic wholeness, and gorgeous tone quality. I loved the slight decrescendo at the ending (Adagio) of “But thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ”. The singers acquitted themselves admirably in the very exposed opening of “Blessings and honour, glory and pow’r be unto Him”. The great “Amen” was sung with great depth of feeling, giving this already memorable evening a real sense of communion.

I believe it is no exaggeration to say that we live in a post-Christian age. That said, the fact that people flock year after year to performances of Handel’s Messiah tells me that we, all of us, no matter what we profess to believe (or not), are in search of something beyond our everyday existence, something transcendent. For me, this performance of Handel’s masterwork had truly brought these divinely inspired work alive. 

Wishing everyone a joyous Christmas and a new year that will bring a return to peace for so many parts of the world.

                                                                                                            Patrick May