The Singapore Festival of Arts 1998
Sunday |
Singapore Symphony Orchestra |
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JOYCE BEE TUAN KOH (b.1968) Tai (1998) CHARLES CAMILLE SAINT-SANS Violin Concerto No.3 in B minor, Op.61 (1880) PYOTR ILYICH TCHAIKOVSKY Symphony No.4 in F minor, Op.36 (1877-8)
JULIAN RACHLIN violin |
OVERALL NOISE RATING:
2 (Inconsiderate cameraman milling around the hall, striding right past in front of me the moment Rachlin starts playing. Three bouts of inter-movement applause despite prior announcement of division of pieces, the latter done with a beautiful Italian accent.)
The Noise Rating Index is a partially-objective measurement of pager and handphone blasts, 9pm and 10pm watch beeps, coughing-during-the-pianissimo-bits, intra-audience conversation and other mind-bogglingly inept noises emitted in the concert hall during actual performance of music. It is measured on a scale of 0 to 5, in increasing annoyance.
Arts Fest 1998 tickets for Inkpot classical music reviewers have been kindly sponsored by the National Arts Council.
by Chia Han-Leon
As Tai sets off, the opening impression is of a distinct sense of momentum. The rhythmic presence of the spread of percussion works in conjunction with the broad lines on strings, divided on both sides of the stage.
But more important than rhythmic momentum is the music's colours. Though the score might not actually be called "spectacular" in the manner of Ravel or Rimsky-Korsakov, it is certainly very concisely scored. Here, the fields of sonorities are evoked without excess, and expressed with maximum effect. As the music is not so much about "moving architecture" but rather of sonorities, it does not come across as being "progressive" in its material; and yet its sense of momentum and pulse is undeniable. The vivid evocation of these orchestral hues, textures and sonorities is indicative of Joyce Koh's personal voice. She possesses a brilliant but aesthetically disciplined sense of colour.
When asked, Koh says her music is of the "French" school, and it does show. Whatever the case, her orchestrational skills (this is her largest piece) is impressively balanced and speaks of an intelligent mind at work. Throughout the performance, I found Tai to be utterly fascinating.
Although the composer states that no programmatical content is meant in the score, I kept getting these recurring images of scudding clouds, and the idea that the orchestra was depicting "weather patterns". Perhaps this is a possible visual expression of the harmonious tension so vital to Tai.
There is a point in the score with a sudden silent pause. "That is where the art lies," said Artur Schnabel. Whether it is Koh's masterly scoring of this break, or Shui Lan's expert timing, the result truly took my breath away. Again, it is a prime example of the composer's idea of tension in harmony (in this case, anticipation in silence). It is a fleeting gesture full of musical purpose.
Joyce Koh's ability to hold sustained stretches of sonority with this sense of purpose is one of her greatest assets. Only at one point did I feel really unsure about - the little cor anglais (oboe?) solo(?) towards the end. I felt it stuck out from what is otherwise a powerfully wrought and highly remarkable example of the unified use of orchestral resources. This unity translates again into balance - the balance of tension between two poles, dynamically opposing yet harmonizing with each other.
Essentially, "Tai" refers here to concepts of harmony, balance or peace (the first word for the Chinese name for the Pacific Ocean is "tai"). Koh adds that the music is not about where it is going (the destination), but how it is achieving it.
To reiterate, Tai is about the manifestation and sustenance of balanced tension. Except that rather than exercise this idea in terms of growing and/or developing musical material or motifs, Joyce Koh focuses on orchestral sonorities and textures as her main - and more difficult to pull off - resource. My final verdict is: I wish I could hear it again!
Rachlin immersed himself deeply into the music, playing with a sincere earnestness that is hard to fault. His is the kind of concentrated playing which can exude a sense of relaxed serenity. The ending of the slow movement, with the clarinet following the quiet harmonics of the solo violin, was slightly out of sync, but nevertheless quite beautifully done.
In the finale, Rachlin's tightly focussed tone matches his impulsive playing. His resonant instrument, urging the orchestra along, demonstrated his confidence as a soloist; at other moments, Rachlin turns towards the orchestra, revelling in playing with them. His genuine camaraderie with the SSO also extended to Shui Lan, the two showing the kind of good partnership which made the finale so enjoyable and admirable. After both orchestra and soloist strode magnificently to the triumphant end, it was heartening to see Rachlin and Shui Lan embrace in mutual congratulations, while the SSO violinists put down their instruments to clap with their hands - always a good sign.
Before his encore, Rachlin expressed his sincere happiness at being able to perform for Singapore. You can really hear the humility and sincerity of the man in his voice. Then he launched into a fiery and passionate account of Eugne Ysae's Sonata No.3 in D minor, from the Six Sonatas for Solo Violin, op.27. It was, if anything, even more powerful than the concerto.
The composer calls the Scherzo a set of "disconnected pictures which come and go in the brain" - and I think the SSO brought across some of the underlying anxiety of this idea. Certainly, the sight of all the strings on pizzicato gear has something rather nervous about it. The final movement was magnificently done, committed, with Shui Lan virtually raging on the podium, stamping!
As a final encore to this very fruitful (and eventful) night, Shui Lan presented us with Anatol Liadov's A Musical Snuff Box, arranged for high woodwind and glockenspiel. Having spoken he actually walked off the stage to allow the players to play by themselves! As these suggest, it is a playful and utterly delightful little miniature depicting a musical box. As the small ensemble tinkled and chirped through the piece, the box quite literally tires, the tempo dipping, until the music gradually winds to a stop. As members of the audience chuckled in amusement, the box is wound up again to the sound of a rattle. Suddenly the instruments burst back to life, chortling its way to its gleeful end!
This concert marks the public birth of Tai, a 17-minute work by Singaporean composer Joyce Koh (b.1968). The multi-award-winning Koh is currently based in France and has already had many of her works performed in the UK and USA, among others. Not surprisingly, she is hardly known in her home country - and what a pity for Singaporeans.
The music does not descend into what one might call empty atonality, or avant garde/experimental music (terms I use loosely here) which seems to want to assault the ear. Rather, Tai comes across as texturally expressive, constantly in a state of being half-expectant, half-resolving; a tension that is just tantalizingly present, and yet at the edge of resolution.
In Koh's own words, the significance of the title Tai echoes true in her music. The Chinese ideogram (not really a "word" per se) is derived from the 11th hexagram from the I Ching, the ancient Chinese divinatory text. It deals with the idea of the balanced interaction of heaven and earth. According to the composer, this depicts the "harmony" and "implicit tension" of the upper and lower portions of the character.
Lithuanian-born Julian Rachlin was our fine and gracious soloist for Saint-Sans' Violin Concerto No.3. Performing on a 1741 Guarnerius, the violin's voice is strong and simply - very big. If the jabbing and loud phrases are somewhat rough (even ugly as in the opening of the finale), in the gentle moments Rachlin elicits a soft human-like tone from his violin. Thus he was best heard in the slow movement, the Andantino quasi allegretto. Here, the solo lines can become as wisps, singing very tenderly, soft yet focussed.
The performance of Tchaikovsky's Fourth Symphony, all fate-laden and unrelenting emotion, gave the SSO full opportunity to plunge into the almost uncontrollable energy of the composer. The Orchestra responded with great skill throughout, though in the first movement the performance is somewhat cool, perhaps due again to the fast tempi characteristic of Shui Lan (right). Nevertheless, the Andantino displayed his sensitivity as a conductor, phrasing the lines, watching the dynamics, and even stopping to allow the orchestra to play on their own. The SSO played with beautiful tone and attention to detail, though the main melody could do with more lilt.
Chia Han-Leon is the guy with the Viennese baguette, sausage croissants and fish fingers with a touch of lemon at Carrefour.
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