Jakub Kuszlik - Canadian Debut

As the cliché goes, life is indeed full of wonderful surprises. I thought I knew the works performed at last night’s recital backwards and forward, and then someone comes along playing these same pieces, and sweeps you off your feet and captures your heart.

 

Which was how it was with the Vancouver recital debut of pianist Jakub Kuszlik, in an all-Chopin recital. He commenced his performance with the three waltzes, Op. 34, a spritely performance of the Waltz in A-flat (No. 1), a deeply felt reading of the Waltz in A minor (No. 2), and a performance of the Waltz in F major (No. 3) that highlighted the rhythmic quirkiness of this very original work.

 

Perhaps more than any of his other creations, the mazurkas of Chopin most embody the element of zal, that almost untranslatable Polish word that contains a whole host of meanings, but can be generally described as a bittersweet melancholy. Kuszlik’s performance of the Four Mazurkas, Op. 30, captured the essence of this elusive quality. I was especially touched by his performance of the Mazurka in C-sharp minor, Op. 30, No. 4, with its combination of deep sadness, anguish, and defiance. 

 

Kuszlik’s beautifully played the Nocturne in E major, Op. 62, No. 2, with an almost cinematic unfolding of the evolving stream of consciousness, from the calm, stately opening, to the agitato middle section with its complex polyphony, and to the flowing cantabile of the closing.

 

The young artist gave a masterful performance of the Scherzo in C-sharp minor, Op. 39, immediately conveying the restless quality of the music in the opening bars, as well as highlighting the stark contrast between light and shadow throughout the work. Amazingly, Kuszlik shaded the chorale theme and made it different with each appearance. The rippling descending broken chords that follow the chorale theme were played with a beguiling lightness, like shafts of lights shining through the clouds. The tempestuous and fiercely difficult coda was absolutely thrillingly played.

 

The second half of Kuszlik’s recital began with the Fantasy in F minor, Op. 49, the only work of Chopin’s with this particular title. For me, a successful performance of this work has to have a storytelling quality, a feeling of, “Long ago, and far away…” To my ears, Kuszlik’s performance had this quality of a continuing narrative through the music many disparate episodes, but also a feeling of wholeness, or organic unity.

 

Kuszlik’s performance of the Sonata No. 3 in B minor, Op. 58 was simply masterly. It had nobility, beauty and a sense of freshness, of discovery, all the more remarkable given our familiarity with this music. In the first movement, the sense of urgency in the opening flowed very nicely into the beautiful D major theme. Indeed, he made the move from one of a wealth of melodic ideas to the next completely natural and logical, and gave the movement a sense of cohesiveness, rather than meandering from one beautiful idea to another. In the brief scherzo, the enharmonic change that marked the transition from E-flat major to B major was absolutely magical. Kuszlik made this short scherzosounded like a logical intermezzo that took us from the opening movement through to the Largo that follows. This Largo movement was played with much attention to detail, beauty of sound, but with a flowing quality that again took us through Chopin’s many melodic ideas. I was particularly taken with the pains Kuszlik took to highlight the beauty of the composer’s writing for the left hand. He gave the presto non tanto movement an incredible urgency (without any feeling of rushing), a relentless quality, with almost a feeling of desperation, all the way until the work’s cataclysmic ending.

 

At the conclusion of the sonata, the audience gave Mr. Kuszlik a rousing and well-deserved ovation, whereupon he granted us two encores – Brahms Rhapsody in E-flat major, Op. 119, No. 4, which he played with brimming enthusiasm, an infectious vigor and youthful ardour (different from my own view of this work), and the same composer’s Intermezzo in A minor, Op. 116, No. 2, highlight the grey-tinged autumnal colours of the work.

 

In additional to the many of the aforementioned musical qualities of Mr. Kuszlik’s performance, it was, above all, music-making that moves. There is a depth of quality as well as an emotive quality in Mr. Kuszlik’s playing that drew me into his, and Chopin’s, sound world – a rare gift indeed.

 

Illness prevented Rafal Blechacz from fulfilling his engagement in Vancouver, but The Vancouver Chopin Society scored a real coup here in having found Mr. Kuszlik. We look forward to being witnesses to the many subsequent chapters in his artistic journey.

 

 

Music of Exile

I returned to the Orpheum Theatre last night to hear cellist Mischa Maisky as guest soloist with the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra.

 

The originally scheduled conductor had to cancel in the very last moment because of a family emergency, and the orchestra was fortunate in having secured the services of Stefan Asbury, a highly experienced conductor.

 

Perhaps it was Mr. Asbury’s experience that allowed him to put together this challenging programme in such short notice. Verdi’s I Vespri Siliani Overture and Beethoven’s Symphony No. 2 in D major were both well played by the orchestra. The Verdi was, however, curiously lacking in tension throughout, a “pleasant” reading rather than one that gets one’s pulse going. I had the same impression with the performance of the Beethoven, an interpretation that looks back at the genial music of Haydn rather than the revolutionary sounds of the Eroica; last night’s performance lacked a tautness in the musical fabric.

 

For the performance of Dvorak’s Cello Concerto in B minor, I have a feeling that the musicians of the orchestra were inspired, and really rose above themselves because of the presence of a great soloist. The missing musical tension in the first half of the concert was suddenly there, in spades.

 

Mr. Maisky gave a big, bold, heroic and ardent performance of the concerto, painting on an extremely large canvas. An experienced and avid chamber musician, he took pains to blend his own sound with that of the orchestral fabric, and conductor and soloist worked to make the work a symphonic experience. The range of sounds and colours he got from his instrument was nothing short of astounding. In the beautiful and soulful second theme, Maisky drew us into his emotional and sound world with playing that was both ardent and confiding. His playing of the second movement – music inspired by the illness of Dvorak’s sister-in-law and true love - was deeply heartfelt and overwhelmingly moving. In the third movement, he played with a rousing virtuosity that was breathtaking. 

 

Mr. Asbury should be given much credit for his role in the performance, for the Dvorak concerto is one that is littered with many potential ensemble pitfalls, all of which he and the orchestra deftly negotiated. He managed to give the work an organic whole. 

 

I was extremely touched by the entire performance, not only because of the great performance by this great musician. The Dvorak concerto is music of exile, as the composer had written it while living in America, far from his beloved Czech homeland. Throughout the work, there is a palpable sense of longing, a longing for home. 

 

Musical works created in exile and by exiles are often the most powerful – this would explain the power of the music of Chopin. 

 

In these last few years, when political persecution by ruthless dictatorships, and illegal war by a brutal dictator, had driven countless people from their homeland – in Hong Kong, in Syria, and of course Ukraine - last night’s performance of this Dvorak concerto became, for me, not only moving but extremely relevant. 

 

I do not know whether Mr. Maisky had any of these thoughts last night, but perhaps his choice of his only encore was telling – the Sarabande from Bach’s Cello Suite in C minor – a performance filled with dark colours and meaningful silences, one that had the audience holding their breath. Maisky, wisely, did not make any announcement or pronouncement, perhaps leaving it up to the imagination of the audience whom this mournful music was meant for.

 

All of a sudden, the world became a better place. 

Vancouver Recital Debut - Bruce (Xiaoyu) Liu

Bruce Liu, the young pianist from Montreal who captured the hearts of the Varsovian audience at the 18^th International Chopin Competition, made his Vancouver recital debut in two recitals this past weekend. Hearing the same programme two days in a row, in different venues, and with two beautiful but very different Steinway pianos, make for some interesting comparison.

 

The excellent acoustics of the Chan Centre for the Performing Arts gave great warmth to the sound of the piano. At the Orpheum Theatre, in spite of its size, the Steinway there had greater projection and a bigger sound, thereby allowing the music to create a greater visceral impact and giving it more clarity of texture. I am grateful to have heard this young artist twice in such different surroundings, and I wouldn’t want to have to choose one from the other.

 

It is evident from the first piece on the programme, Chopin’s ethereal Nocturne in C-sharp minor (Op. 27, No. 1) that Liu understands the shaping and projection of phrases in this difficult work. From the mysterious opening with the widely spaced broken chords of the left hand, to the high drama of the almost mazurka-like middle section, and back to the slightly unsettling beauty of the opening theme, Liu made the music float. Phrases melt from one to the next, and I was stunned by his ravishing pianissimos. 

 

In my conversation with him, Liu said that he is interested in playing some of the lesser played youthful works by Chopin. His affinity for the more overtly virtuosic early works of the composer was evident in his performance of the Rondo a la mazur in F major, Op. 5. His playing of this youthful work was utterly filled with charm as well as a youthful, carefree sense of playfulness. Moreover, he captured the elusive rhythmic hurdles of the mazurka, to the manner born, as the saying goes.

 

In the larger works, like the Ballade in F major, Op. 38 and the Ballade in A-flat major, Op. 47, Liu was clearly at home with these larger-scale compositions of Chopin. In time, perhaps he will create greater contrast between the calm of the opening of the F major Ballade and the storm of the B section. For me, the highlight of the recital’s first half was the Ballade in A-flat major, where the sheer beauty of Liu’s sound on the Steinway was truly something to behold. He played this A-flat Ballade with breathtaking lightness and a disarming gracefulness. It was truly a remarkable achievement for so young an artist.

 

In Liu’s performance of the Sonata in B-flat minor, Op. 35, he brought to the work a sense of organic totality, from the high drama of the opening to the cataclysmic end of the final movement. In the Doppio movimento section of the first movement, there was a sense of desperation in Liu’s playing of the unsettling right-hand theme. Liu’s effortless virtuosity in the Scherzo was truly astounding. In the middle section of the Scherzo, he not only played the rocking theme with great beauty, but he made us aware of the intricacies of the composer’s writing for the left hand. The iconic funeral march was played with an overwhelming sense of stillness, making it truly a frighteningly relentless march of death. In the final movement, I “saw” with my ears the phantasmagoric and spookiness of the wind blowing across the deserted graveyard. A stunning performance indeed.

 

Liu’s ability to create a beautiful – not a superficial kind of beauty, but one with great substance – was evident in his playing of the Andante spianato, the last work on the official programme. It was utterly, meltingly beautiful, with one note dissolving into the next in the long-breathed melodic line. The fanfare that opens the Grande Polonaise was played with a great sense of occasion and rhythmic acuity. Because the theme of the Polonaise returns so often, this work can sometimes feel long, under the wrong hands. Not so with Bruce Liu, who managed to infused each return of the theme with different inflections and colours. His virtuosity towers over the blistering technical and musical demands laid down by the composer. 

 

In both recitals, the audience clamored for more at the end of Liu’s performance. The artist obliged with two encores on the first day, and three after his second recital – the Nocturne in C-sharp minor, Op. posth and the Etude in G-flat major, Op. 10, No. 5 (“Black key”), which he played on both days, and one of the three Ecossaises the composer wrote. I am certain the audience would have been happy with many more.

 

All in all, a highly successful debut by a major young artist at the beginning of what promises to be a brilliant career. At this time, I only wish him continuing artistic and musical development, and that he would successfully navigate through the challenges and temptations of sudden fame. It would now be very interesting to hear Bruce Liu in other repertoire. From the evidence of this weekend’s recital, there is no reason to doubt that this young man can become one of the great artists of the next generation. 

 

I wish him Godspeed in his artistic and musical journey.

 

 

Orchestral Debut - Charles Richard-Hamelin

I ventured into Vancouver’s Orpheum Theatre last Saturday for my first live Vancouver Symphony Orchestra concert in almost two years. In spite of being masked for an hour and a half, the concert turned out to be a more than worthwhile experience. The programme was tailored for a somewhat scaled-down orchestra because of our present social distancing requirements.

 

Music director Otto Tausk led the orchestra in a spirited reading of Joseph Bologne’s Overture to L’Amant anonyme. It was my first exposure to the music of this French classical composer, a contemporary of Mozart - Bologne was eleven years Mozart’s senior. Born in the West Indies to a planter and an African slave, Bologne was brought to France for education when he was seven. During his adult years, he was active not only as composer, violinist and conductor, but also as a champion fencer. The “overture”, in actuality a symphony in three movements, is composed in the gallant style, and contains a wealth of felicitous melodic materials. It is good that Bologne’s music is becoming better known and more often performed, as he is obviously a highly gifted composer. The orchestra more than rose to the challenges of the music, and Tausk lavished much care into preparing the ensemble in giving a polished performance.

 

The next item on the programme, much better known, was the Pelleas et Melissande Suite by Gabriel Faure. As in the Bologne, this performance was prepared and executed with much care. The justly famous Siciliano was played with great beauty by the flutist Chris James.

 

The great interest of the evening was of course Vancouver Symphony debut of Canadian Charles Richard-Hamelin, silver medalist of the 2015 International Chopin Competition. Hamelin had already given two outstanding solo recitals in Vancouver, but this was his long-awaited debut with the orchestra, one of the last major Canadian orchestras to feature him as concerto soloist. 

 

Appropriately, Hamelin’s choice for his orchestra debut was Chopin’s Piano Concerto No. 1 in E minor.

 

Since 2015, when he burst onto the international music scene with his win in Warsaw, Hamelin has matured both as an artist and musician. The freshness of his playing is still there, in spades, but add to that is now a maturity and depth in the music he plays. 

 

From the first chords of his entry in the first movement, it is easy to see why this young Canadian captured the hearts of the Varsovians and the ears of the jury members, for he demonstrated a complete identification with the Chopin idiom, as well as the logic of the composer’s melodic invention. Even with the large number of pianists who make Chopin a major part of their repertoire, there is only really a handful of true Chopinist in every generation. Charles Richard-Hamelin obviously belongs to this very small and select group. 

 

Hamelin played this work with a large palette of tone colours. His sound is always round and beautiful, and never forced. The shaping of each melodic idea was obviously well thought out, but without sacrificing the feeling of freshness and spontaneity. Every inflection was beautiful and poetic. In the second movement, Hamelin drew us into the very intimate sound world of the composer, and highlighted the great inner beauty inherent in the music. There was a hushed quality in his playing of this music, and the audience responded with the greatest compliment that can be afforded to any artist – silence. The Krakowiak rhythm of the third-movement, a stumbling block for many pianists, was brought to life under Hamelin’s hands. 

 

Chopin’s writing for the orchestra has been the subject of much derision. But if one were to examine the score carefully, one can see that the composer’s orchestration is not only highly sensitive in highlighting the solo part, but offers much beauty in itself, especially in the writing for the woodwinds. Tausk and the orchestra acquitted themselves admirably in playing this difficult score, sensitively supporting Hamelin from first note to last. 

 

The years following the winning of a major competition can be difficult ones for a young artist. After the initial buzz and attention of the musical press (and critical opinion can turn without a moment’s notice), a musician can continue to grow and develop into musical maturity, or an initially promising career can fizzle out if he or she merely keeps riding on the initial sensation. It is apparent that Charles Richard-Hamelin has now firmly established himself as a seasoned and mature artist, and we, the listeners, look forward to the coming chapters of his musical and artistic journey.

 

 

 

Performer as Re-creator

 Federico Colli made his rescheduled Vancouver recital debut under the auspices of The Vancouver Chopin Society yesterday. It was an astounding musical experience, a stunning display of much more than pianism and virtuosity – although they were there, in spades - but musical sensitivity, original thinking, and an acute awareness of the infinite palate of colours afforded by the piano.

 

Colli began his recital with a group of seven Scarlatti sonatas, playing them as a group without interruption. The young artist has been much praised for his interpretations of Scarlatti, and reason was immediately apparent. Right from the first note, he sets an almost religious atmosphere with his unbelievably beautiful sound and his wonderfully leggieroplaying. I do not think I remember hearing such pianissimos – it was otherworldly – he drew the enthralled audience into his magical sound world. 

 

For the next work on the programme – Mozart’s Sonata in B-flat major, K. 333 – I found myself almost more fascinated by Colli’s ideas than the composer’s design.  Although the composer is very sparing in dynamic and articulation markings throughout the score (the composer was a little bit more specific with dynamics in the third movement), Colli’s interpretation nevertheless gave us some very new and fresh insights different from what we often hear. From first note to last, it was not a performance of great drama and contrast, but rather like a meditation on the score. Like a master curator, Colli illuminated this great work with new insights and invited us to behold this masterpiece in an entirely new light.

 

After intermission, the pianist gave us the Canadian premiere of Maria Gringber’s arrangement of Schubert’s chamber music masterwork, the Fantasy in F minor, originally written for piano, four hands, written in the incredible fertile annus mirabilis of the composer’s last year. What is remarkable about this arrangement is that none of the details in the original musical texture is lost in the transcription, which means that the arrangement requires a performer of transcendental pianism, of which Colli is one. Under his hands, it really did at times sound like there were not one but two artists playing this work. 

 

The final work of the afternoon’s concert, Busoni’s reworking of Bach’s monumental Chaconne in D minor, from the second partita for solo violin. In our age of obsessiveness with performance practice, this work could seem like something from a different age, which I suppose it is. That said, Colli’s playing of it compelled us to listen to it as a great piano work from the romantic age of pianism, not as a mere transcription. In this performance, he once again demonstrated his superhuman command of every facet of piano playing, as well as an uncanny awareness of and sensitivity to the infinite dynamics and colours he commanded from the Steinway.

 

As an encore, the mood lightened considerably as Colli took a delightful romp through Turkish pianist Fazil Say’s arrangement of Mozart’s Rondo alla Turca, bringing the audience to its feet one final time before the young artist had to rush to the airport to continue on the next leg of his musical journey.

 

Bravo Federico, and kudos to The Vancouver Chopin Society for arranging this major debut, I think we can safely say, one of today’s outstanding musical “stars”. Come back soon!

 

 

 

 

Adieu, Mr. Bond

Be warned of spoiler alert here. Read no further if you have not seen the latest James Bond film…

I was seven years old when my mother took me to my first James Bond film. It was You Only Live Twice, and it was terrific. Of course, as a boy, you only notice the cars, the guns (many of them), and the high adventure. I of course missed all of the double entendre, and I don’t think I even noticed that there were beautiful women in the film. 

That was the start of a once every two-year ritual, which has been about the frequency that a new Bond film would appear. Naturally, even with the formulaic plot, some Bond films are better than others. There are a few of the movies from the franchise I can no longer watch without cringing. But by-and-large, watching a Bond film has always been something of a mindless entertainment, escapism at its best.

Ever since Daniel Craig took over the role of Bond, there has been a new depth to the storybook character, a new angst. Casino Royale, the first of Craig’s Bond films, which happens to also be Ian Fleming’s first Bond novel, deals with his first outing as a “double-O”, and his betrayal by a woman he loved. Quantum of Solace, probably one of Fleming’s most heartfelt and interesting short stories, was a dud. Skyfall was brilliant and touching – for more than one reason one of the most Catholic of all the Bond films - and Spectre was not bad. Unlike the older films, there had been, through the five films with Craig in the title role, a thread in the development of the character. 

With No Time to Die, Craig’s last outing as the debonair British spy, we come not only to the end of the current story line, but the end of an era. Don’t worry, there is still plenty of spectacular locations, action, fast cars (not one but two Aston Martins), guns, and beautiful women. But there is more to this particular Bond film that any of the others.

In this film, Bond is reunited with Madeleine Swann, his love interest from Spectre. As it turned out, he fathered a child with her, as we find out at the end of the film (“She has your eyes,” Swann says.) Faced with an impossible, no-win scenario after the final battle, Bond sacrifices himself for his family, and saves the world one last time. Cliché, you say? Perhaps, but Craig’s masterful performance this time around makes this powerful ending a moving cinematic experience.

Even without knowing this ending of the story, I did feel that there is an elegiac quality to the film throughout. This is also conveyed in Craig’s brilliant acting in the role. He has really brought a depth to this formerly rather two-dimensional character. There is, in his acting, a sadness to the character, something like Lohengrin or The Flying Dutchman, doomed to be forever denied happiness, especially when it is just within reach. There is also something very Judeo-Christian about Bond’s final sacrifice. We mustn’t forget that Ian Fleming was acquainted with the work and the philosophy of British Catholic mystic, philosopher and writer, Caryll Houselander, whose one-time fiancé Sidney Reilly (“Ace of Spies”) was the inspiration for Fleming’s Bond character. 

There are many references to former Bond films, probably only noticeable to long-time fans. The obvious ones are of course the character Blofeld and the criminal organization Spectre. More oblique references include quotes from On Her Majesty’s Secret Service – “We have all the time in the world” – Bond’s exit line in the film immediately after his just-married wife was assassinated, was referenced in the opening and at the end of the current film. On Her Majesty’s Secret Service was the only other Bond film where the hardened spy actually falls in love with a woman. At the end of the film, when Madeleine says to him that they need more time, Bond responds, “You have all the time in the world,” foreshadowing his own demise. The title song from the older Bond film, “We have all the time in the world”, sung by Louis Armstrong in his unique and inimitable style, is used as the music for the final credits. A nice touch, I thought.

With the current political climate, it is difficult to tell whether there will be another reboot of the Bond story. For me, I wouldn’t watch another Bond film unless the character remains British, and male. Surely, it would be difficult for anyone to top this performance by Craig. With Bond’s death in No Time to Die, I realized with great sadness that a part of my childhood is gone forever, when one could count on one’s hero to be invincible, always returning to slay the powerful dragon, or the evil communists.

And so, Bond is dead. Long live James Bond.

 

 

 

 

 

Resumption of Concert Life

It was with a tremendous feeling of excitement as I attended the first concerts in Vancouver since the pandemic. Even the smaller audiences and socially distanced seating could not detract from the experience of feeling the music as it was being made, without the aid of audio-visual equipment or computer screens.

 

I headed to Christ Church Cathedral to attend the Vancouver Cantata Singers’ concert entitled Silence and Music: Moving Stories and Remembrance, their post-COVID version of their annual Remembrance Day concert. Music Director Paula Kremer returned to lead this outstanding choir in a programme highlighting the emotions of loss and remembrance. 

 

From the opening In Memoriam by Ruth Watson Henderson, the singing of this choir never fails to move one’s senses. Anton Bruckner’s Ave Maria was equally affecting, as was Vaughan Williams’ Silence and Music, with the composer’s unique blend of dissonance. Observing this season of remembrance, the choir performed two perennial favourites – Dave Rosborough’s arrangement of In Flander’s Fields and William Henry Monk’s Abide with Me, as arranged by Leighton, Worthington, Kremer and Rosborough. Soloists Emily Cheung and Sarah McGrath shone in Eriks Esenvalds’ O Salutaris hostia. As always, the acoustics of Christ Church Cathedral lends itself well to the sound of this choir.

 

Certainly, an auspicious beginning to the year’s concert season.

 

Then it was off to the Orpheum Theatre for a piano recital by Behzod Abduraimov, under the auspices of the Vancouver Recital Society. Things got off to a very promising start with two contrasting Scarlatti sonatas, B minor (K. 27) and D major (K. 96), highlighting Abduraimov’s beautiful sound and touch. The D major sonata was particularly effectively realized, evoking almost the sights and sounds of the changing of the guards at the royal palace in Madrid. I wasn’t sure if the repeats for each section was really needed, as the repetition did not really bring new ideas to what had already been so wonderfully played the first time around. 

 

Abduraimov launched into Schumann’s Kreisleriana (Op. 16) with a whirlwind of a tempo, but I was uncertain if that really added to the tension called for with composer’s instruction of Äuberst bewegt. Moreover, the opening tempo made it almost impossible to really observe Schumann’s Etwas bewegter in the Intermezzo II. For me, it was in the more intimate sections of the work, for instance, movement 2, 4, and 6. Paradoxically, the pianist’s facility at the piano took away some of the contrast and tension of the stormier sections of the work. It was a reading of Schumann’s luminous score that underscores the artist’s pianism and beauty of sound rather than the kaleidoscopic colours as well as the shifting between light and shadow that make this music so moving, or taking us into the composer’s inner world.

 

Abduraimov’s rendition of Mussorgski’s Bilder einer Ausstellung (Pictures at an Exhibition) was spectacular, stunning and superhuman, harking back to the interpretations of Horowitz and Richter. This young man is born to play this work. Although it is now difficult to erase from one’s mind the sounds of Ravel’s masterful orchestration, but the young artist somehow made the score almost more colourful than it would have been possible with an entire orchestra. Even with the number of outstanding pianists today, Abduraimov’s virtuosity is nothing less than astounding. In Bydlo, he achieved an incredible buildup and excitement, that the climax was simply overwhelming. But it was more than virtuoso playing, but his ability to bring out the unique character of each “picture” that made his performance so memorable. I would, however, have loved to ask the artist why he skipped the Promenade immediately before Limoges. His playing of Catabombae and Con mortuis in lingua mortua was positively spooky. The sound he got out of the beautiful Steinway (courtesy of the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra) toward the end of Das Bogatyr-Tor filled the cavernous space of the Orpheum, no small achievement indeed. This was certainly a performance of Pictures at an Exhibition that would be difficult to top. 

 

The afternoon of Sunday, November 14^th brought us a very different kind of recital – guitarist Milos and mandolinist Avi Avital gave a joint recital on the stage of the Vancouver Playhouse. The unlikely combination of the two instruments made for a very effective and sometimes moving performance. I found that Avital’s mandolin playing had greater projection and musicality than Milos’. The pieces by Bach and Philip Glass worked particularly well for the two instruments. Giovanni Sollima’s rhapsodic Prelude for Mandolin Solo sounded soulful and moving under Avital’s hands. Indeed, it was a masterful performance of this relatively new work. I did, however, find Milos’ playing of Albeniz’s justly famous Asturiassomewhat dry and lacking in passion and projection. The real highlight of the afternoon was the premiere of Mathias Duplessy’s three-movement Sonata for Guitar and Mandolin, giving equal prominence to both instruments. The slow middle movement was particularly engaging. A very enjoyable reprieve from the rainy Vancouver afternoon.

 

Although I did have my share of concert at the just-concluded Chopin Competition in Warsaw, it is certainly a good feeling to be able to attend live musical performances in one’s hometown. This weekend’s (sold out) Vancouver debut recital by pianist Federico Colli, presented by The Vancouver Chopin Society, promises to be equally memorable. Looks like the concert season is off to a very healthy start in Vancouver.