Vancouver Debut - Tomasz Ritter, Fortepianist

Tomasz Ritter, the distinguished young Polish pianist, winner of the 1^st International Chopin Competition on Period Instruments, made his Vancouver and Canadian recital debut yesterday, under the auspices of The Vancouver Chopin Society, celebrating its 25^th Anniversary season. Ritter performed on an 1819 Conrad Graf fortepiano, built by Paul McNulty, and I am as fascinated by the sonorities evoked by Ritter on the instrument as I am by his interpretation of the music.

 

In the two Chopin Nocturnes (Op. 15, No. 1 and Op. 9, No. 1), one is struck by the beauty and absolute softness of the piano’s sonority. Unlike a modern concert grand, the sound does not “hit” you like an arrow out of a bow. Rather, the sound of the instrument draws one in and compels one to really listen intently. With an artist who knows how to exploit – in the best sense of the word – the instrument, Chopin’s ppp markings, in, for instance measures 24 and 61 of the B-flat minor Nocturne (Op. 9, No. 1), were truly realized. In the beginning of the same Nocturne, as well as when the main theme returns at measure 70, the sound drifts in as if from nowhere, creating a magical effect. That said, this is not to say that the instrument is incapable of power, but the power of the sound comes not from volume, but from the contrast in the sound, as was fully evident in the stormy middle section of the F Major Nocturne (Op. 15, No. 1).

 

Beethoven’s Sonata in E Major, Op. 109 was another wonderful demonstration of the capabilities of the Graf fortepiano, and the gently rippling opening theme of the 1^st movement never sounded more tender and loving than it did yesterday under Ritter’s hands. I appreciated the sense of totality with which Ritter handled the theme and variations of the 3^rdmovement. In the same movement, I was astounded by the clarity of texture in the many layers of sound in especially the 4^th, 5^th and 6^th variations. As well, Ritter fully evoked the other-worldly beauty of the theme of the 3^rd movement, both in its initial appearance as well as in its heartbreakingly poignant return at the end. 

 

For me, the highlight of the afternoon was Ritter’s tour-de-force performance of Brahms’ transcription of Bach’s monumental Chaconne. This was a masterful reading of this challenging work, but our young artist rose far above Bach and Brahms’ musical and technical challenges. It was a perfect balance between clarity of the vertical texture and a sense of horizontal forward motion. The performance was so compelling that one almost doesn’t miss Busoni’s more well-known technicolour transcription. In fact, under Ritter’s hands, Brahms’ more austere transcription comes much closer to the spirit of Bach’s original.

 

After the interval, Ritter delivered a compelling performance Mozart’s great Fantasie in C minor, K. 475, taking us on a journey through the work’s kaleidoscopic range of colours and emotions. In the forte-piano contrast at the very beginning of the piece again took on a sense of light and shadow. Ritter conveyed the angst-ridden Allegro section (m. 42) by exploiting the different colours of the Graf. As well, he highlighted a contrasting sense of repose in the Andantino section (m. 91). On the instrument, the descending octave scale at m. 90 had a lightness one does not always hear on a modern piano. 

 

Likewise, Schubert’s Sonata in A minor, D. 784, highlighted both Ritter’s musical gifts as well as the beauty of the instrument. The hushed quality with which Ritter played opening pianissimo unison theme captured my attention right from the first notes. Even with the relatively softer sounds of the Graf, the fortissimo passages, like the octave restatement of the opening theme, were no less powerful. The chords of the E Major second theme took on a magical floating quality, with a sound that seemed to have come from nowhere. In the slow movement, Schubert’s indications of both ppp as well as sordini (m. 4, 15, 18, 34, 38 and finally 59) really became possible. In the final movement, Ritter really highlighted the feeling of a chase between the two hands in the opening measures. This feeling of restlessness effectively contrasted with the relative sense of repose in the second theme (m. 51). All in all, it was a very convincing, and absolutely committed, interpretation of this great work. 

 

Ritter chose, appropriately, to end the afternoon’s performance with Chopin as his encore – the now very popular Nocturne in C-sharp minor, Op. posth. Surely, a highly successful debut by one of today’s most distinguished exponents of the period piano. With the second edition of the International Chopin Competition for Period Instruments coming up this October, we can perhaps expect more performance on historic instruments in Vancouver? 

As much as I love the Steinway piano, Sunday’s performance certainly gave us a different and unique perspective on music that we all love and know so well. For that we can be grateful to Mr. Ritter’s visit to our city.

Glenn Gould - Selected Letters

Glenn Gould was an inveterate letter writer. Throughout his short life, he wrote letters to his parents, friends, colleagues, lawyers and mangers, specialists in various fields who contributed to his various projects, and fans.

 

In 1992, Oxford University Press published Glenn Gould – Selected Letters, a book that I treasure, and have read and reread, prompting me to write down these brief thoughts. 

In the National Library of Canada, the Gould collection includes 2030 letters written by the pianist, and 184 were chosen by the editors to be included in this volume. These letters shed light not only into Gould’s life – a life that is endlessly fascinating to his fans, even these many years after his death – but also his personality. 

 

The earliest letter (c1940) included in this volume is a Valentine poem Gould wrote for his mother, one that already demonstrates Gould’s early penchant for word play. 

 

Dear Mistress

Sometimes I’m as bad can be,

I run away quite often;

But when I give you my sad look

I know your heart will soften.

 

And so it begins…

 

The last letter in the book, and the last letter in the National Library’s collection, is one that he wrote to Teresa Ximenes of the Toronto Humane Society, granting permission for them to use one of his recordings in what I assume to be a promotional film. Gould was a great animal-lover, and the Toronto Humane Society was one of the major beneficiaries in his will. In his own words, “(A)nimal welfare is one of the great passions of my life, and if you’d asked to use my entire recorded output, in support of such a cause, I couldn’t possibly have refused.”

 

Many of the letters reveal Gould’s irrepressible sense of humour, another aspect of his personality that he carried to elaborate lengths, sometimes to the consternation of his friends and colleagues. In a letter to his lawyer, Stephen Posen, Gould humorously went on (and on) to question a discrepancy in one of Posen’s invoices, to the amount of $2.35, citing a fictional precedent of the case of “Lin vs. Lum” from the County Court, Bangkok (Judge Lae Chin-Ho presiding). In another, to his close friend John Roberts, Gould introduced himself as an unknown young harpsichordist, with a facetious proposal of a project for the C.B.C.’s “Celebrity Recitals” series, saying that a “recording is a pale and artificial memento of the concert experience”, which of course is the exact opposite of Gould’s view.

 

A couple of letters struck me as unintentionally funny. One is his reply to Virginia Katims, wife of Milton Katims, music director of the Seattle Symphony Orchestra, about her request for him to contribute to a recipe book she was compiling. Another is his response to the CBC for his favourite eating spots in Toronto. Gould was almost totally indifferent to food, and his diet consisted of scrambled eggs, arrowroot cookies, or some such unremarkable culinary delicacies. In Gould’s own words in his reply, that. “(A)s such time as the entire experience of nourishment-taking can be synthesized by a convenient table, I’ll be the very first to avoid all restaurants like the plague.”

 

His letters to producers and managers discussing repertoire choice, or details about his radio documentaries or other projects, reveal a highly organized mind, a far cry from the absentminded artist that he has been often portrayed as. 

 

Some of the recipients of Gould’s letters are very much in the “A list” of musicians – Leonard Bernstein, Leon Fleisher, Leonard Rose, Yehudi Menuhin, Leopold Stokowski, Lukas Foss and Rudolf Serkin; others include notable figures like Yousuf Karsh, Marshall McLuhan, Willi Reich, Madame Pablo Casals, John Cage, and Barbara Tuchman, among others. Then there are letters to managers, film, television and record producers, figures like Walter Homburger, Ronald Wilfred, Schuyler Chapin, Humphrey Burton, Goddard Lieberson, Paul Myers, and Andrew Kazdin. Whether Gould was writing to a world-famous celebrity or a young fan, he was always unfailingly courteous and kind. 

 

The most impressive, and sometimes moving letters, are the letters he took time to write to fans. From those writing to ask his opinion, or engage in a most serious discussion on his views of certain musical subject, to a little girl asking if Bach were his favourite composer, Gould would take the time to serious consider what was being asked of him, and answered accordingly. In fact, the recurrent tone of Gould’s letter is one of kindness and gentleness. The statement of conductor Erich Leinsdorf, who called Gould “perhaps one of the all-time greatest (and in my view perhaps also the kindest and gentlest) artists”, is certain borne out in these letters. 

 

In an interview on the CBC, Gould was asked to describe in one word what it was that attracted him to the music of Bach. His answer, “Compassion”. Indeed, compassion seems to have been the motto of Gould’s personal and artistic life, as he saw art as a moral force, an instrument of salvation. His favourite prayer was, “Lord, grant us the peace the world cannot give.” This can perhaps explain Gould’s seeming detachment from the world, to live life completely on his own terms, interacting with the outside world by means of technology. It is a tantalizing thought to consider what Gould would have done with the Internet, emails, and today’s cybertechnology.

 

In an age when great art and music are often used to further one’s “career” or to enhance one’s self-importance, Gould, even after all these years, still stands alone as an artist who went his own way, and struck out a path that remain an ideal for any musician or artist. It seems fitting to end with these thoughts from Yehudi Menuhin, “Perhaps one day when sufficient time has worked on sufficient love we may arrive at a truer appreciation of Glenn’s genius.”

 

 

 

 

 

Dang Thai Son in Vancouver

It had been many years since Dang Thai-Son performed in Vancouver, and so there was a keen sense of anticipation before he walked onto the stage of the Playhouse last Sunday.

 

Looking every bit like the seasoned artist that he is, very different from the photograph that graced the cover of his debut album some 43 years ago, Dang began his performance with Faure’s Nocturne in E-flat minor, Op. 33, No. 1 and Barcarolle No. 1 in A minor, Op. 26. Right from the first notes, he caught my ears with the depth and beauty of his sound, as well as the beautiful flow of the music. In both works, but especially in the Nocturne, still so heavily indebted to Chopin, but with Faure’s own unique harmonic progressions, every note from Dang’s hands seemed to project like an arrow straight to the last row of the auditorium. 

 

In the Arabesques by Debussy, pieces that are technically within reach of many competent pianists, Dang showed his mastery by the colours he evoked from the beautiful Steinway piano, as well as his impeccable sense of timing. His affinity for the music of Debussy continued to show in his interpretation of both books of Images. In these masterpieces, the composer takes us into the world of the Orient, not in the cheap stereotypical picture postcard version promulgated by Hollywood, but into the true aesthetics of the art of the Orient. Pianist Fou Ts’ong once commented that Debussy’s soul as an artist is that of the Orient. Dang struck a perfect balance between the mixing of the colours, so much like a Chinese ink painting, and maintaining an absolute clarity of texture. In Mouvement, Debussy’s study in line, Dang played this music with a bracing and stunning virtuosity. As well, he presented the most vivid and colourful Poisson d’Or I can remember. In Hommage a Rameau, he brought to the music an eerie stillness, and a feeling of bleakness and desolation. 

 

After the intermission, Dang gave us an exploration of the many dance forms used by Chopin as vehicles for his creativity. The Polonaise in C minor, Op. 40, No. 2 was played with great feeling as well as a palpable depth of sound. Dang evoked a sound from the lower register of the piano was nothing less than astounding. In his very stylish playing of the Three Ecossaises, Op. 72, No. 3, he highlighted the charm, the brimming high spirits as well as the youthfulness conveyed in this music. Dang went on to give characterful readings of three of the composer’s waltzes. The Waltz in A minor, Op. posth., was played with such profound feeling that it elevated this relatively simple work, so often relegated to young students as an “easy” Chopin piece, into a miniature tragic tone poem. The Waltz in F minor, Op. 70, No. 2 as well as the Waltz in A-flat Major, Op. 34, No. 1, were given readings that were stylistically impeccable, reminding the listener that these miniature masterpieces are really dances of the soul.

 

The performance continued with a delightful romp through Chopin’s rarely-played Tarantelle in A-flat Major, Op. 43, which makes one wonder why not more pianists would incorporate this work into their active repertoire. The set of four Mazurkas, Op. 24, demonstrated Dang’s absolute identification with these elusive miniatures, compositions representing the composer at his most profound and original. He invested into each of these pieces, none lasting more than a few minutes long, with great profundity and depth of feeling, as well as an acute stylistic awareness. The great Polonaise in A-flat Major, Op. 53, played to the manner born, rightly brought the audience to its feet. 

 

After the thrilling performance of the Polonaise, and at the behest of the enthusiastic audience, the artist graciously granted us an encore – Bach/Busoni’s great Adagio, from Busoni’s transcription of Bach’s Toccata in C Major. Dang’s performance of this great work served as a fitting close to this very special afternoon, almost as a form of a benediction. I felt that everyone in the audience knew that they were sharing something very rare and special.

 

In his playing of Chopin, Dang Thai Son reminded me so much of Arthur Rubinstein – and I can think of no higher compliment. There was the same lack of affectation, the same simplicity, the same directness in his music making that makes the interpreter a perfect conduit between composer and listener, and the results are both disarming and moving. It is playing that strives to move, not just to impress, for me the highest form of music making.

 

I am grateful that Vancouver had the opportunity to experience the artistry and musicality of this sovereign artist, at the heights of his maturity. One could only hope for many more opportunities for him to share his art with us in the very nearest future.

 

 

Vancouver Cantata Singers - Christmas Reprise 2022

The Vancouver Cantata Singers’ Christmas Reprise is always the highlight of the Season of Advent. This year, the choir’s 19^th offering of this wonderful tradition, was for me, a real highpoint in the years I have been attending these concerts.

 

The concert opens with, appropriately, In the Dark Night, a Ukrainian Lullaby, featuring the men of the choir. Naturally, to hear this Ukrainian work evoking the beauty of the Christ child hits an emotional chord, considering the trauma and destruction that the country had been faced with this past year. Both in this work and the next, Judith Weir’s My Guardian Angel, featuring the women of the choir, remind us of the vocal excellence of this choral ensemble.

 

As ever, the VCS’s Christmas Reprise offers traditional Christmas works, albeit in new arrangements, as well as pieces that are heard less often. Mendelssohn’s Weihnachten, Orlando di Lasso’s difficult Bone Jesu, verbum Patris, and Sweelinck’s Hodie Christus natus est, were particularly euphonious, and truly demonstrates the choir’s sensitivity to text, and the ensemble’s absolutely uniformity in diction and enunciation. The fast-moving Ding Dong! Merrily on High and the Carol of the Bells show off the group’s virtuosity. In Carol of the Bells, the women of the choir especially sang with an exhilarating lightness, and uncannily evokes the timbre of the bells. 

 

There were of course timeless works that we know and love, like See Amid the Winter’s Snow, O Tannenbaum, and Silent Night, all in beautiful arrangements, in performances that truly remind us that “Christ is born in Bethlehem.” All these, and the two different arrangements of Ave Maria – one by Nathaniel Dett and the other by Franz Biebl (a favourite of the choir’s, I think), transport us away from the hustle and bustle that come with December. 

 

Saturday’s concert once again establishes the Vancouver Cantata Singers, under Artistic Director Paula Kremer, as the Vancouver’s premiere choral ensemble. What a treasure we have in our very own city!

 

The full house at Vancouver’s Holy Rosary Cathedral reminds me that, in spite of all we hear about living in a post-Christian world, in spite of the world’s every effort to push Christmas to the margins of our society and our consciousness, that people still want to be reminded of the love of God made manifest in Christ, the Trinitarian love of God, and the mystical body of Christ.

 

And that there has to be more to Christmas than finishing our shopping in time.

 

 

Artist at Work

The 2022 concert season, at least pianistically, ended on a very high note with Sergei Babayan’s concerto debut with the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra.

 

Mr. Babayan had of course made his debut in Vancouver already, in a highly distinguished recital for The Vancouver Chopin Society, in the pre-pandemic days of 2017. Since then, his schedule has been very full indeed, with appearances with artists like Daniil Trifonov and Martha Argerich, recording dates, his very busy teaching studio, and appearances with orchestras. Perhaps this is why it has taken our orchestra so long to obtain a date with him. But better late than never, because Friday night’s concert was probably one of the Vancouver Symphony’s most memorable concerts since live performances began. For this concert, Babayan chose to play Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 25 in C Major, K. 503.

 

With the piano’s first entry, I immediately knew that we were in for a very special performance. I had heard this very instrument played by many outstanding artists that played with the orchestra, and in recitals, but I had not heard a musician produced such a luminous, iridescent sound from these keys. There was a sense of lightness and buoyancy with each note, and each run. And with what profound emotion he played the gorgeous G major piano theme!

 

In the second movement, the four simple descending notes, C, A, F and E, was played with such simplicity but transcendent beauty, that illuminated the entire movement. At times, the sounds emanating from the instrument were no longer piano sounds, but just sounds of pure beauty and joy. In the third movement, Babayan played the music with the enthusiasm of a schoolboy, in the very best sense of the word, with a palpable exuberance that makes one want to stand up and cheer. It was truly a breathtaking, and breathtakingly luminous, performance of one of Mozart’s most majestic concerti.

 

As with any great Mozart performance, one is reminded of the operatic nature of much of the composer’s works. Last Friday evening’s performance so reminded me of Le Nozze di Figaro, with the soloist taking all the parts, and the orchestra commenting on the action!

 

Inspired by Babayan’s artistry, the orchestra and Otto Tausk were sympathetic partners in this memorable performance. The orchestra’s woodwinds, especially, contributed much to the tapestry of sound colours. 

 

With the uncertainties and vicissitudes of traveling today, the orchestra was plagued with a couple of high-profile cancellations this season. I am glad that Vancouver audiences had this opportunity to witness the artistry of this great artist and musician, and I hope that Mr. Babayan will be a frequent visitor to our city.

A Most Welcomed Return

When an artist made a staggering first impression, as Zlata Chochieva did when she first played in Vancouver, expectations are high when she or he makes a return appearance. I am happy to report that Chochieva’s recital last Sunday confirmed that her artistry is still as wondrous as ever. Indeed, she has, if anything, matured as an artist and as a musician.

 

Her recital programme is a re-creation of the works she recorded on her most recent CD of works by Mozart and Scriabin – two very different and contrasting sound worlds. None of the works played were pieces that appear time and again in piano recitals, which makes for a very refreshing change from the sameness that we sometimes see in programming. 

 

In the two sets of variations by Mozart – Nine Variations on a Minuet by Duport (K. 573) and Ten Variations on “Unser dummer Pobel meint” (C. W. Cluck) (K. 455) – she played Mozart with a firm grasp of the operatic nature of the composer’s music. Figaro, Susanna, Leporello, Despina, and a host of other characters came alive in front of our mind’s eyes. There was nothing “pretty” or precious about her approach to this music, as every phrase was filled with energy and colour. Every phrase, every musical gesture, was delivered with the grace and panache of a prima ballerina. Moreover, she has an uncanny sense of timing both within each variation, in the evolution from one variation to the next, as well as each variation within the context of the entire structure.

 

Stylistically, the two sets of Preludes by Scriabin, Op. 15 and Op. 16, were still composed with a firm nod to the past, most notably to the music of Chopin, whom Scriabin adored. Chochieva approached these miniatures like a visual artist, painting before us the infinite variety of sound colours that the composer must have had in mind when putting notes to paper. One is reminded that Scriabin had a great interest, indeed obsession with, colour and sound. This wonderful artist was able to coax a gorgeous range of sounds from the piano, very much highlighting the sensual beauty of Scriabin’s music.

 

It is truly astounding to hear Scriabin’s evolution as a composer when a work such as the Sonata No. 3 in F-sharp minor (Op. 23) was juxtaposed against the truly forward-looking Sonata No. 10 (Op. 70). While the large-scale, highly dramatic third sonata is still firmly rooted in the 19^th century, the chromaticism and tonal ambiguity of the tenth sonata truly looks far beyond the 20^thcentury. Pianistically and musically, Chochieva delivered both works with great panache. She infused the third sonata with a sense of unity in the four disparate and contrasting movements, and highlighted the concentration of expression of the tenth sonata. In both works, she gave us all the sound colours the composer must have had in mind when composing these works. 

 

As if trying to dispel the ambiguous atmosphere of Scriabin’s tenth sonata, Chochieva brought her recital to a far more lighthearted conclusion with Mozart’s Gigue in G major (K. 574) which, along with the K. 522 A Musical Joke, are probably two of the composer’s most hilarious works. It is often easier to convey sadness than joy in music, but Chochieva succeeded in communicating to the audience all the humour inherent in this brief work.

 

This mood of charm and joy continued in the encore she played, the Toccata by French pianist, teacher and composer Pierre Sancan. The young artist delivered with stunning pianism – and at the most daring tempo – as well as with the Gallic charm and flavour called for by this music.

 

All in all, a truly spectacular showcase of pianism and musicianship. Along with Vadym Kholodenko’s stunning debut, we had truly been fortunate to have experienced two of today’s most interesting young artists within a fortnight. I am of course mindful of Sir Andras Schiff’s recent pair of masterful recitals, but with performances such as we had from Kholodenko and Chochieva’s, we are reminded that the future of great music is indeed in very good hands.

An Astounding Debut

In his Vancouver debut, Vadym Kholodenko played a magical performance for an enthralled audience last night.

 

The concert began with Prokofiev’s rarely played Four Pieces, Op. 32, the composer’s whimsical look at baroque and classical dance forms. Right from the first notes, I realized that we were in for something special. Kholodenko highlighted the composer’s gentle, sardonic humour in the four miniatures, but also drew from the Steinway colours, timbre and sounds rarely heard. Throughout the evening, there was a sense of fantasy, of incredible imagination, in his playing.

 

In Schubert’s Sonata in E-flat major, D. 568, Kholodenko brought out all the songfulness called for by the music with an overflowing and palpable musicality. In this work, and in all the pieces he played last evening, there was a glow and a luminosity in his sound that I do not often hear. In the Andante molto movement, the sadness and heartbreak of the music was very much evident. 

 

More Schubert followed after the intermission, with the composer’s beautiful Drei Klavierstucke, D. 946. While bringing out the unique character of each of the three works, the artist also managed to convey a sense of unity, as if the three pieces constituted part of a larger construction. I have to say once again that Kholodenko drew truly wonderous sounds from the piano. To my mind, I have not ever heard such pianissimos as we did last evening – no matter how softly he was playing, every note was projected to the very last row of the hall. Moreover, it was a sound that drew the listener in, drawing him or her into a very private sound world. In the second work in E-flat major, the artist played it almost like a lullaby, with a gently rocking quality and, toward the end, allowing the music to drift away almost to nothingness. It was truly imaginative, courageous, daring playing, but it was, again, sheer magic.

 

Kholodenko saved the fireworks for the last work of the evening, Prokofiev’s 1942 Sonata No. 7 in B-flat major, Op. 83, one of the composer’s so-called “war sonatas”. It was a performance that brought out the kaleidoscopic colours of the piano, and more. From the scintillating opening of the 1^st movement, to the bleak and desolate soundscape of the middle movement, to the almost delirious joy of the third, the artist took us on a thrilling and breathtaking ride through an incredible soundscape. In some of the massive chords of the 1^st movement, his voicing of these chords gave them a sense of massiveness. The element of fantasy I mentioned earlier was again palpable here. In the third movement, Kholodenko’s sense of the pulse of the music was uncanny. When pianist Vladimir Howowitz sent the composer of his recording of the 7^th Sonata, Prokofiev sent in return a copy of the score, inscribed, “To the miraculous pianist, from the composer.” It would no exaggeration to say, after last evening’s performance, that we were in the presence of a miraculous pianist.

 

The pianist graciously spoke to the audience after the performance and announced his one encore, a bagatelle by Ukrainian composer Valentyn Silvestrov, and proceeded to give a moving performance of this gentle work, perhaps a very personal response to the great tragedy that had befallen his home country.

 

Vadym Kholodenko’s performance last night was a truly auspicious debut by any artist in a long time. The sounds he drew from the piano will haunt me for a long time to come.