M usic, like life itself, is inconceivable without romanticism. Romanticism is a high dream of the past, present, and future—a force of invincible beauty which towers above, and conquers, the forces of ignorance, bigotry, violence, and evil.” — Giya Kancheli.
I ’m listening to a recording of Tblisi-native composer Giya Kancheli’s 26-minute-long 1997 Piano Quartet ‘In l’istesso Tempo’ performed by Bridge Ensemble. The consistent pulse and the narrative epicness of it intrigue me. I replay it twice and the complexities and layers that I’d missed on the first listen gradually become more apparent...
G iya Kancheli’s sustained tones build in layers; melodic lines hover like chant, either offered plainly or decorated with trills and turns befitting a liturgical cantor. The mostly-smooth surface gives way to bare plucks, crackling outbursts and grand crescendos with a Romantic sense of drama... The wide-open space of his music stems more from silence than the repetitive structures of minimalism.” — Aaron Grad, 2009.
A nephew of mine and his fiancé are getting married next month; I think about them as I listen to this ‘In l’istesso Tempo’. GoogleTranslate says ‘in l’istesso tempo’ means ‘in the same body’—which seems poetically fitting, given the line of thought that Kancheli’s piano quartet and its pulse has induced in me. This piano quartet is full of musical artifacts of a healthy intimacy... a kind of transcendence through durability, with the relationship between lovers deepening and diversifying as things change and as time passes. No [Nietzschean?] pre-conception of will-to-power with forces/personalities/resources coming together, pushing and pulling. Instead, a [Heideggerian?] will-to-dwell: mutual, enduring attention and being present for the other, present-in-body and present-in-mind.
A nd a pluralistic view of truth that does not insist on any one voice (partner) being ‘right’ and the other ‘wrong’... a kind of aletheia (ἀλήθεια).
T he Italian tempo designation ‘in l’istesso tempo’ signifies a musical passage where the speed of the underlying pulse does not change, even if the division of the beats within a bar does so. Music written this way can create an impression of stillness.” — David Lewis.
K ancheli’s enduring pulse—affirms that love is not love that alters when it alteration finds. There is what music cognition researchers would call ‘event-salience’ in these piano quartet rhythms as-written, leading to automatic beat-induction (BI) for the listener/performer. Auto-BI, in turn, leads us to recognize nature—our bodies!—and how out of our control they are! This is no determinism or fate in which we have no choice or in which human free will plays no part; instead, just an important dimension of reality, and one that we’d do well not to ignore. By the time I’ve finished listening to this the third time, I’ve come to regard the quartet’s accomodation of meter to a pervading, faithful pulse as a romantic gesture—an inspiring acknowledgement of constancy and mutual devotion of friendship, marriage, or civil union founded on true love. No idea as to whether that was what Kancheli had in mind, but the notion is plausible, and I am grateful that the music happened to propel my thoughts in this direction. Unexpected effects like this are a big part of why any person likes music, I think.
T he nothingness of the individual, expressed in simple musical ideas, and its relationship to a more meaningful whole lie at the heart of Georgian composer Giya Kancheli’s work, often disconcerting in its profoundly sad take on modern society. The composer’s aesthetic is admirably served on this exceptional ECM disc by performers who appear to share his vision of a world afflicted by destructive turmoil.” — Andrew Stewart, Music Week.
O ther ‘in l’istesso tempo’ pieces include Elgar’s Enigma Variations, Op. 36, v. 1; or Ginastera’s Variazioni e Toccata sopra Aurora lucis rutilat, Op. 52, vv. 3,5,6; or Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, Op. 43, vv. 1,2,3,6,9,10,14,23. I’ll plan on immersing myself in those on some future evening. Maybe they will lead me further on this path.
B y the way, Artemis String Quartett and pianist Jacques Ammon will be performing at Le Poisson Rouge in NYC on 01-MAY-2012. Their account of Kancheli’s ‘In l’istesso Tempo’ is really superb. Their performance of ‘In l’istesso Tempo’ was positioned in middle of program in last night’s concert in Kansas City and received a standing ovation—which is a pretty uncommon occurrence in mid-program in any performance in any country, you must admit.
A gain and again, with deep regret, we see how alongside obvious achievements of the civilized world we are being worn down. Our planet is being torn apart by bloodshed and antagonisms, and no creative deep is able to withstand that destructive force, which so easily strikes out the fragile means of progress. Taking very close to my heart all that is happening around me, I am trying to express in my music the state I feel in my soul, writing basically for myself, without illusions that ‘beauty will save the world,’ as Dostoyevsky said. That is why my music is more sad than happy, and is addressed more to the lone individual rather than to society. Here you won’t find appeals for striving, equality, or ‘a bright future.’ Most likely, you will find threads of sorrow caused by the imperfection of the world, which keeps disregarding the most horrendous examples in human history. My thoughts are expressed in extremely simple musical language, and I hope that the audience ... will not mistake my deliberate simplicity for what, in my opinion, is the most dangerous phenomenon: indifference.” — Giya Kancheli.
M any movements from Bach’s unaccompanied string works contain implied polyphony. Although earlier approaches describe this technique as a way of using arpeggiation to embellish a melodic line, to disguise an otherwise unacceptable melodic progression, to delay the resolution of dissonance, or to create underlying voice-leading patterns, these descriptions cannot account for the variety and complexity of the implied polyphony in these pieces. ...[using analysis based on auditory stream-segregation techniques, I come to the conclusion that—] Bach did not treat implied polyphony as solely a melodic feature. He instead used implied polyphony to apply irregular accent patterns to the otherwise ‘isochronous’ surface of the music, thereby creating perceived rhythmic variety at the fastest levels of the metric hierarchy.” — Stacey Davis.
I n the sarabandes of Bach’s cello suites, the second beat can be risky, easy to miscalculate. If you start the bow at the frog, instead of towards the middle, you’ll run out of bow on the two-beat upbow. The planning about distribution or budgeting of the bow is critical. You must maintain the pulse on the larger beats... this is far harder to do if you’ve chosen too slow a tempo. Difficult for the cello to maintain a steady pulse because of the many stops in these movements, especially the D major sarabande!
D ouble and triple and quadruple stops: a single part expressing several voices—and the registral placement of these voices doesn’t necessarily duplicate their placement in the underlying voice-leading. Dissonant, tension-creating intervals come from octave displacements in the voice-leading; notes out of the key of the piece to invoke/allude-to/tonicize another key before returning to the home key. And the bass line is not continuous! There are gaps, suspensions, and resumptions that take an eternity to arrive. The continuity of the voices the cello is speaking is tenuous, vulnerable, intermittent, waiting to be confirmed—even if the vulnerability only lasts a few beats. So much risk!
I n the D major sarabande, keep the high C in measure 13 in your mind throughout this and the following measure. The C returns in measure 14, and must sound as if it had been held throughout both measures, like loving parent returning to worried child left briefly alone.
Y o-Yo Ma’s beautiful sarabande-as-encore: dark; warm; transparent. Cello emulates the human voice; proposes spiritual communion between people. Communes with them—as close as a single body; reaches out and touches with sound. Generously melds with the strangers; friends them; speaks as if you and they had known each other for a long time—like kin, like lovers. Remember that small actions that may be heard clearly in a small venue may not communicate to an audience in a larger auditorium. You must not worry that large actions are maybe likely to be construed as ‘false’ or ‘suspicious’ ones. Acting is believing! Honest human behavior is sometimes enormous! And so long as you conduct yourself truthfully in imagined circumstances, no matter how large your expressions, the audience will believe you.
S uch intimacy and risk-taking and bigness-of-spirit are surely the essence of a perfect encore, whether from a student or from a master! And that—a perfect encore—is precisely what we received on Saturday night...
Marckx L. French Baroque influence on Johann Sebastian Bach’s Six Suites for Violoncello Solo with an emphasis on French court dance and Suite V. DMA dissertation, Univ Washington, 1998.
Todd R. The sarabandes from J.S. Bach’s six Suites for solo cello: An analysis and interpretive guide for the modern guitarist. DMA dissertation, Univ North Texas, 2007.
O ihr Zärtlichen, tretet zuweilen in den Atem, der euch nicht meint, laßt ihn an eueren Wangen sich teilen, hinter euch zittert er, wieder vereint.
O ihr Seligen, O ihr Heilen, die ihr der Anfang der Herzen scheint. Bogen der Pfeile und Ziele von Pfeilen, ewiger glänzt euer Lächeln verweint.
Fürchtet euch nicht zu leiden, die Schwere, gebt sie zurück an der Erde Gewicht; schwer sind die Berge, schwer sind die Meere.
Selbst die als Kinder ihr pflanztet, die Bäume, wurden zu schwer längst ; ihr trüget sie nicht. Aber die Lüfte ... aber die Räume ...
[O you Tender Ones, you will walk, persisting Through the cold breath that was not breathed for your sake, Your heedless cheeks oblivious to its trembling. Blowing as it does, the wind coalesces behind you after you've passed, without trace.
O Blessed Ones, healthy and whole though you be now, Who seem to be enveloped and self-sufficient, the epitome of life and the heart's beginning. Bows are there for each conceivable arrow and a target for all arrows: Logical correlates of the perpetual brilliance of your pulsatile smile.
Fear not the pain and sorrow and stillness that will inevitably come, Consign all of that back to the heavy Earth who knows good and well what to do with it: Heavy are the mountains, heavy the seas.
Even as a child, you planted these trees: Already they are awfully heavy, beyond belief really. Despite this persists the pervasive space ... the ubiquitous breezes ...]” — Rainer Maria Rilke, Sonnets to Orpheus, VI.
P eter Lieberson died of sepsis, a complication of his lymphoma and treatment for lymphoma last Saturday, at age 64. Lieberson gratified our ears not only with composerly talent but with a humor and warm personality that do not require atmospheric ‘soft-focus’ photos like the one above to convey the inner gentleness.
P eter’s wife, Lorraine Hunt Lieberson, died of breast cancer at age 52, in 2006. She was a mezzo-soprano, known for her dramatic power and raw virtuosity as well as her artistry performing Baroque era and new compositions. Her career path to becoming a singer was unconventional. Formerly a professional violist, Lieberson changed her full-time focus to singing when she was around 30 (1985 and beyond). As violist she played in the Orchestra of Emmanuel Music in Boston under conductor Craig Smith and later sang in the chorus. For a time, she was also principal viola in Berkeley Symphony.
I n re-listening to recordings I have of Peter’s later compositions, Lorraine’s influence on Peter’s soul and heart becomes evident… how she provided him with insights and renewal. This is an undeniable element in Peter’s writing after 1997. Lorraine’s influence is diaphoric, trans-illuminating—an emblem of spirit-in-matter. Must be why he fell in love with her… good reason why anyone would fall in love with anyone.
[50-sec clip, Lorraine Hunt Lieberson & Peter Serkin, Peter Lieberson, ‘Rilke Songs’, ‘O, ihr Zärtlichen’, 1.6MB MP3]
L ieberson was expert at syllabic setting and pitch repetition: the vocal part centers on particular notes for considerable proportions of passages. These songs are predominantly recitative. They have suspended accompaniment and rubato manifestations of the singing part.
W hen I was growing up, my mother, whose first language was German, would often quote lines from Rilke. I have been drawn to his poetry ever since. Rilke evokes feelings, states of being that are at the edge of awareness, mysterious but close to the heart. One can’t always understand exactly what he means. I believe this is a deliberate elusiveness in order to provoke our intuition. The Rilke Songs were written for my wife, Lorraine Hunt Lieberson. I think of them as love songs even though the poems themselves are not overtly about love. They are about being childlike and open in ‘O ihr Zärtlichen’; in ‘Atmen, du unsichtbares Gedicht!,’ they are about the breath being a complete exchange between our own essence and the universe. They are about how the breath seems to go out into space like our wandering son; the mysterious way in which we might transform ourselves: ‘If drinking is bitter, turn yourself into wine’ (‘Stiller Freund’). To me these Rilkean insights are a gift of love..” — Peter Lieberson, program notes.
K atherine Kelton maintains that Peter Lieberson “learned about the complexity of the human voice and the multitude of intricacies of which it is capable” through Lorraine. “Much as Robert Schumann’s love for Clara Wieck inspired him to compose in a genre he had previously disregarded,” so too Lorraine propelled Peter in directions that were, up to then, unfamiliar.
M aybe this is so; maybe a ‘push’ theory is right.
B ut it is also possible (and, I think, more likely) that it was a matter of ‘pull’, of natural attraction. In fact, it is hardly plausible that the diverse nuances of the voice could have been novel for Peter in 1997. If anything, his many years leading Shambhala sessions led him to develop acute sensitivity to myriad manifestations of ego/self and selflessness. And there was Lorraine, an eager collaborator, able to animate a composition so as to lead to discoveries for both, on the part of both.
L orraine’s performances of Peter’s compositions evoke what Mircea Eliade once called ‘dialectique du sacre’ and ‘hierophanies’. Sacred portrayal is realized as an individual creative act—one that embodies both spiritual insight and sensual perception. The relationship ceases to be merely ‘of-the-world’. It achieves transcendence, a dimension of sacredness. That, I believe, is what we hear in these wonderful recordings. The feeling conveyed is one of consummate ‘hereness’, ‘thisness’—a kind of presence, of living entirely in the present.
I think of my Rilke Songs as love songs even though they are not overtly about love. They are, for example, about being child-like and open, as in “O ihr Zärtlichen;” about the breath being a complete exchange of our own essence with the universe in “Atmen, du unsichtbares Gedicht;” about the mysterious ways in which we might transform ourselves in “Stiller Freund” . . . To me, these Rilkean insights are gifts of love.” — Peter Lieberson, program notes to ‘Rilke Songs’.
T he act of singing... when my voice is feeling free and soaring... it is a wonderful, healing experience.” — Lorraine Hunt, interview with Terry Gross, NPR, 1996.
T he spelling sgra bla (‘la of sound’) found in the ancient texts as a matter of fact is based on a very deep principle characteristic of the most authentic Bön tradition. Sound, albeit not visible, can be perceived through the sense of hearing and used as a means of communication, and is in fact linked to the cha (the individual’s positive force, the base of prosperity), wang tang (ascendancy-capacity), and all the other aspects of a person’s energy, aspects that are directly related with the protective deities and entities that every person has from birth. Moreover, sound is considered the foremost connection between the individual himself and his la.” — Namkhai Norbu Rinpoche, Drung De’u and Bön, translated by Adriano Clemente, Library of Tibetan Works and Archives, 1995, p. 61.
T o me, Peter Lieberson’s later compositions embody Shambhala texts that reveal and test our relationship to the “material world” and our sense perceptions. They teach the practice of enriching presence—the ability to instantly envision the inner wealth within oneself.
T o compose ‘Neruda Songs’, I responded to the words and to the emotional tone of the poem. I heard notes when I read the words. Generally I like the tactile feeling, the sensual feeling of being at the piano, so I compose there. I listen very, very carefully to the words, and the harmony is very intuitive. The great period of jazz, that’s how I learned harmony, Bill Evans and Miles Davis. That was my ear training. Orchestrations come easily to me, and I often hear which instrument should be playing. It’s constant responsiveness; it’s somewhere between improvising and strategizing.” — Peter Lieberson, interview with Pierre Ruhe, 10-JUN-2010.
T here is, to me, a cinematic quality to the songs—as though the composer were a cameraman.
C amera placement distinctly influences our perception of the world that’s portrayed and the characters in it. Shooting down at a seated character can diminish her presence and stature; it may make her seem submissive or even supplicative. Filming up at a character provides a sense of the figure’s power and command. By contrast, in Rilke Songs it is as if Peter Lieberson’s ‘camera’ is placed at eye-level, making the perspective like what we would see while sitting across from Lorraine having a conversation. The character isn’t ‘owned’ by the camera/cameraperson nor is she sensationalized by it.
C ombien qu'a nous soit cause le Soleil Que toute chose est tresclerement veue: Ce neantmoins pour trop arrester l'œil En sa splendeur lon pert soubdain la veue. Mon ame ainsi de son objiect pourueue De tous mes sens me rend abandonné, Comme si lors en moy tout estonné Semeles fust en presence rauie De son Amant de fouldre enuironné Qui luy ostast par ses esclaires la vie.
[Much as the Sun causes each thing To lie so clearly before our eyes: To linger too long in its splendor Is to be suddenly made blind. My soul and its object Now abandoned by all my senses, As if, within me, and to my great surprise Semele were ravished in my presence By her Lover [Zeus] who, with his thunderbolts, Snatched her life in a flash of light.]” — Maurice Scève, Délie, v.443.
T here is an interview that Lorraine did with NPR’s Terry Gross back in 1996, in which Lorraine confides her fascination with identity-bending, gender-bending roles—the journeys of self-discovery and transcendence that are made possible through these. Beyond angle, camera placement also affects the view that we have onto the action and the resultant meaning we can derive from a shot. On the surface, the Rilke Songs setting of several Rilke poems celebrate the then-undersung life and burgeoning talent of Lorraine Hunt Lieberson. That her belated decampment from viola to singing was what vaulted her to international fame was an oddity: here was the soul and and the propensities of a string player inhabiting an operatic singer’s body.
P eter leveraged Lorraine’s enthusiasm for transcendent experiences to honor her. In Rilke Songs, it is as though composer Peter were a filmmaker choosing to shoot in a long profile ‘take’. The placement of the voice-leading/camera here and the accompaniment there; the choice to let the ‘shot’ play out as it does; these reveal the nuanced components, not only of composition but of microphone placement and physicality that Lorraine so deftly crafted in the use of her vocal instrument. No other ‘camera’ position and mic position could have permitted such insight into her craft, nor into the craft of the composer who created this vehicle for shared expression.
E very 24-hour day is a tremendous gift to us. So we all should learn to live in a way that makes joy and happiness possible. The first miracle of mindfulness is our true presence—being here, present, totally alive. If you are really here, the other will also be here. Loving? It is recognizing the presence of the other with your love... Dear One, I am here for you... A human tendency is to see spirituality as a process of self-improvement—the impulse to develop and refine the ego when the ego is, by nature, essentially empty. The problem is that ego can convert anything to its own use, even spirituality.” — Thich Nhat Hanh.
N o atmospherics or sentimentality in this long ‘take’. Her delivery is straightforward and expository, articulated calmly and directly to the listener. Knowing as we do that these performances were sung—the compositions were composed—when Lorraine was already afflicted by breast cancer, the récits produce a kind of uncanniness; produce narrative convergences between Peter and Lorraine; they embody a tantric, elliptical concentration; they are an Unheimlichkeit, a Verklärung, eine Vorahnung.
T hese wonderful specimens of humankind will be deeply missed.
I n writing a successful quartet, composers have to turn inward and look for their most personal musical message. So also do the performers. There is no room for deception—nothing to disguise it and make it superficially attractive. Seduction or manipulation will be obvious and will fail. Everything in quartets and other small chamber forms is about honesty and mutual discovery.” — Saul Bitran, violinist, Cuarteto Latinoamericano.
T he only way to reanimate these pieces is to play them with friends... When you’re ‘on’, not only are you breathing together, but you are also feeding off each other. You’re playing with someone who does something spontaneously and you respond, also spontaneously, which takes your performance and experience together to another level entirely.” — Kathryn Selby, pianist, Macquarrie Trio.
C hamber music, besides being very intimate, is substantially concerned with understanding the other performer(s) on deep levels—doing this in an open and undirected way—and concerned, too, with being generous and responsive to the significant other(s) and creating valuable and meaningful things together with them.
I n that regard, almost any piece of chamber music might be considered to be coherent with the values celebrated on Valentine's Day. Almost all chamber music nurtures a sense of closeness, immediacy, and anticipation.
Y ou want something that is already at least slightly familiar and known to be pleasurable to and enjoyed by your partner—so there will be low risk of disappointment and the greatest probability for delight.
T o heighten the anticipation, an experience that is already familiar can be the subject of hints or other gestures to plan for the experience and savoring that experience. But in order to be worthy of anticipation, the thing hinted at must also be novel in some way, not routine.
B ut there are side-effects each piece can have—inherent objective, physiologic consequences (unintended or otherwise) that accompany the music’s subjective emotional/cognitive/inspirational effects (see Lemmer and other links below). A little quickening of the pulse and transient high blood pressure is what you are after. What I had not expected is how long (many hours) it lasts!
Understand distinctions between history, entitlement, and managerial theories of the self and the significant other.
Avoid defensive, self-protective ‘Model I’ patterns of interpersonal interaction that blame others and limit learning.
Emphasize shared goals, fearlessness, and equality—mutual influence in relationship.
Emphasize modesty of proportion, pleasure of execution, resiliency in the face of set-backs, and durability of vision and passion.
Love is an organization—one that is deserving of deliberate, rational, caring management.
Love is an organization that, like any other enterprise, has explicit and implicit processes—and denying this or neglecting the processes can only but lead to chaos, low client satisfaction, and investor disappointment.
Communicate and critically test each other’s assumptions and beliefs openly and often.
Combine mutual advocacy with inquiry.
Combine shared exertion with shared relaxation and a minimum of irritability and aggression.
M ozart’s and Haydn’s music had only a slight reducing effect on the heart rate of the spontaneously-hypertensive (SHR) rats, and the blood pressure remained unaffected. The normotensive WKY rats showed no reaction at all. Ligeti’s String Quartet No. 2, on the contrary, caused a massive increase in SBP of around 20 to 30mmHg in the SHR rats which remained discernable over more than 10 hours. The WKY rats also reacted to Ligeti’s music with a raised SBP.” — Björn Lemmer, Institut für Experimentelle und Klinische Pharmakologie und Toxikologie, Ruprecht-Karls-Universität Heidelberg.
I am not saying to eschew the Ligeti in favor of Mozart or Haydn for Valentine’s Day—not at all; far from it. In fact, the Ligeti may be precisely what you two will prefer on that adventurous intimate occasion. You are looking for a string quartet whose climax is like the last lines of a poem that choke you up a bit; focus the mind and heart, so to say. Sort of like catching sight of the sea—unexpectedly; together. Twenty or 30 mmHg of higher blood pressure for a few hours is precisely what you two are looking for...
C oming back through the Chiba coast I thought of Shonagon’s list—of all those signs one has only to name to quicken the heart, just name. To us, a sun is not quite a sun unless it’s radiant; a spring not quite a spring unless it is limpid. There is a way of saying boat, rock, mist, frog, crow, hail, heron, chrysanthemum—a concise way that includes them all, implies them all.” — Chris Marker, Sans Soleil.
C hamber music was considered by more narrowly nationalistic musicians to be too ‘academic’, too ‘Germanic’, to deserve a place in Russian [musical canon] at all. When Borodin started work on the first of his quartets in 1875, he wrote to a friend, referring to the nationalist critic of the time as well as to the leading nationalist composer, that ‘to Stassov’s and Mussorgsky’s horror, I have sketched a string quartet’.” — Anthony Burton, Nash Ensemble program notes, 2010.
M embers of the Nash Ensemble gave a thoroughly compelling performance last night at Wigmore Hall. Stephanie Gonley (vn) was superb, as were David Adams (vn), Lawrence Power (vla), Philip Dukes (vla), Paul Watkins (vc), Alice Neary (vc), mezzo Christine Rice, and pianist Susanna Stranders.
W hat striking sonorities the 2 cellos achieve in the Arensky String Quartet in A minor, Op. 35! I’d never heard this work before (unique for its 1 vn, 1 vla, 2 vc orchestration), but, after hearing Nash members perform it, I can only say that, if you intend to create astounding Elegiosity, go for the 2 cellos!
A rensky composed this unusual piece in 1894 as a memorial to his teacher, Tchaikowsky. This was when Arensky was just 33, a short while after Tchaikowsky’s death. The first movement has all the strings with their mutes on—great to hear in an intimate hall like Wigmore, up-close. The A minor theme is taken from ancient Russian Orthodox sacred music—a setting of some psalm or other. The middle section is in A Major; then the psalm theme again, back to the minor, finishing the movement.
T he second movement is comprised of 7 variations on a children’s song by Tchaikovsky, ‘When Jesus Christ was still a child.’ The elaborateness of the 9 minutes of variations upon variations suggests feverish, obsessive grieving. Then the muted 3-minute coda at the end of this movement evokes ancient Russian chant or possibly other archaic atmospherics that would be primevally familiar to Russians. Poignant ‘leave-taking’ as the Nash’s program notes have it. The emotive material in here is amazingly effective even on the limbic systems of us non-Russians… traps like this do not require ‘bait’ to work.
K ravitsa rïbachka! Prav k beregu ladyu I vïd, I syad so mnoyu, Day ruku mne svoyu.
Bolovku mne na serdtse Bez strakha polozhi. Morskim volnam bespechno V veryayesha zhe tï.
A serdtse to zhe more: To buri v nyoem, to tish, I mnogo perlov chudnïkh Sokrïto v glubi.
[Lovely bassin’ gal! Steer your bass boat to this shore; Come and sit with me; Give me your hand.
Lay your head right here, And don’t be afraid. Trust me just as much as you trust yourself, heh, Daily, to those waves there.
My heart is like the sea, you betcha: It can be calm or choppy, And lots o’ big pearls Are hidden in them depths.]” — D. Kropotkin, after Heinrich Heine.
T he third movement Andante sostenuto tugs on our heartstrings yet more and is followed by Allegro moderato finale, which has fugal structure and develops the nationalistic Russian hymn ‘Slava Bogu na nebe, Slava’ [Слава Богу, на небе! Слава!] (Glory to God in heaven! Glory!), which is found also in the Allegretto of Beethoven’s Quartet Op. 59 No. 2.
F rom a performer’s point of view, this Arensky Quartet is special in another respect: the ‘dialogical’ interactions between the parts have tremendous symmetry or parity in terms of technical and expressive challenges… All of the parts are exciting all of the time, and, despite this surfeit of interesting material, the pungency of so exceedingly much being said miraculously doesn’t tax the listener or undermine the credibility of the memorial. It’s emotionally ‘over-the-top’ in a quintessentially ‘Russian’ style but it never becomes pastiche. Fantastic!
Arensky – String Quartet No. 2 in A minor, Op. 35
Borodin – Songs with cello obbligato (Razliubila krasna-devitsa [‘Beautiful girl fell out of love’]; Slushaite, podruzhen'ki, pesenku moiu [‘Listen, my friends, to my song’]; Krasavitsa-rybachka [‘Beautiful fisher-girl’]
Tchaikovsky – Night, Op. 73 No.2
Rachmaninov –The Ring, Op. 26 No.7; To the Children, Op. 26 No.14
Tchaikovsky – Andante Cantabile from String Quartet No. 1 in D, Op. 11
Beethoven – String Quintet in C, Op. 29
T his program is one in a series that Nash Ensemble have prepared, illustrating the connections between Beethoven and Russian composers.
C hristine Rice’s account of the Borodin folk songs with Paul Watkins’s cello and Susanna Stranders’s piano was superb, drawing shouts and prolonged raucous applause from the normally-reserved Wigmore Hall audience. Her rich, expressive voice and spell-binding operatic gestures abundantly conveyed the passion and desolation—the authentic ethnic Russian sensibility of these lieder.
I t was a surprise to me to learn that the ‘Mighty Five’ or Balakirev group of 19th Century Russian composers took a dim view of ‘chamber music’—they severely criticized Borodin, for example, for engaging in such a diminutive and ‘academic’ genre [see Podlech, link below]. Well, last night—with the ample sound from the Nash members and the exceedingly wide dynamic range that they lent to their interpretation—we experienced a sonorous and strong ‘orchestral’ feel, even in the ‘smaller’ chamber pieces.
C annot help but think that the ‘Mighty Five’ would’ve amended their opinions about chamber idioms had they heard so mighty an ensemble as the Nash. Wow!
W hen Alexander was 9 years old, Borodin’s mother was seriously alarmed by his chemical experiments, fearing that her house would be set on fire. Not all his experiments were as harmless as his self-made watercolors, which he used for painting. The incendiary bombs he made in the basement were a particular worry for his parents.” — Joachim Podlech.
