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OVERALL NOISE RATING:
1 (9pm and 10pm beeps. I wonder if concerts were quiet in Baroque times)
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.
This review has been kindly sponsored by The Esplanade Co. Ltd.
by Chia Han-Leon
One thing I've noticed across the past decade or so is that the playing of the Concert has mellowed, though admittedly that is characteristic of current "period instrument" schools. (Previously, up to the late 80s, period orchestras were still playing in a rather harsh style, trying to strip away decades of heavy lyricism which a post-Romantic world tried to impose on the music.)
For these concerts, the touring English Concert numbered 20 (more or less) - strings 5:4:2:2:1, 1 flute, 1 recorder, 2 oboes, 1 bassoon, 1 trumpet and harpsichord. These stats are fairly normal for a period orchestra, but conspicuously missing were the horns and kettledrums.
As a result, the repertoire is slightly limited. I wondered before the EC came, for example, why play the Bach Orchestral Suite No.1, not the more popular Third or Fourth? Answer: no drums, not enough brass. But in the end, the performance of the First Suite revealed much that was appealing in the EC. It took a few movements before the orchestra warmed up and its sound broadened. Pinnock drew out the curving, undulating French dance shapes from the Bach Suite as well as from Handel's Water Music Suite performed on the second night. Neither being French, it is interesting how the interpretations demonstrated a balance between the looser galante qualities of the dance suite form and the precision-playing attributable to many British orchestras. The result is neither too rhythmically risky nor too rigid; I would have prefered a little more Germanic weight, but otherwise the readings were happily cosmopolitan.
Period orchestras, even more than a full-sized modern orchestra, demand that every player be of soloist quality. We were given much ample opportunity to consider this in these concerts. I was very thrilled to finally see my favourite Baroque-flute player, Lisa Beznosiuk, after all these years. The softer, woody tone of the Baroque flute, wispy and "Old World"-y, floated sweetly, sometimes eerily into the air. Though its voice had trouble filling up the hall (Baroque flutes being more for the chamber), Ms Beznosiuk's performances were expert and cool, as in the lyrical tenderness of the slow movement in the Boyce symphony. But I wish they had played the Bach Second Suite too.
Whatever their faults, it's hard to blame the players (or their instruments!). The Baroque masters demanded superhuman players (and singers who don't need to breathe). Wielding the Baroque natural trumpet was Mark Bennett, one of the small handful of famous British natural trumpeteers (eg. Crispian Steele-Perkins, Stephen Keavy). On the first night, his rendition of the Telemann Concerto in D impressed the audience with his phenomenal trills and bright high notes. Natural trumpeteers like him earn the right to say, "Look ma! No valves!" (which was ironically undermined by the loudly inappropriate pictures of modern trumpets plastered all over the programme notes.
(Mr Bennett looked much more relaxed, understandably, during the two encores of the second night, when he traded his trumpet for a tambourine. He and the EC were very effective! I am unable to identify the pieces, but they are definitely French quick dances typical of Jean-Philippe Rameau, or perhaps even Purcell.)
The draw of the first night was without doubt Vivaldi's Four Seasons. I must confess that I wasn't looking forward to hearing yet another performance of the Four Seasons, but this turned out to be the most interesting part of both night's programmes. Leader of the English Concert Rachel Podger proved to be a most amiable violinist of charming personality and stage presence. Her very vibrant readings of the music were matched by her lively dance-like movements on stage (complete with swaying hair), and the brilliant smile which she constantly flashed at her fellow musicians - all in genuine musical cooperation. Indeed, her coordination with or without support from the orchestra or continuo was admirable for its relaxed discipline. Never rigid, the reading of Summer stands out as the best, with solid concentration and timing from all the performers. The depiction of the buffeting Summer winds and the eerie breezes of Winter still ring in my head.
Ms Podger's technique also impressed with her picturesque use of sliding notes and her very tasteful (and often playful) decoration of the score. During the performance of Vivaldi's "Il grosso mogul" concerto, which apparently alarmed quite a number in the audience, the harmonies were very daring indeed! In the opening country dance of Autumn, she languidly slides her notes to imitate the drunked villagers falling asleep. Occasionally, her tone became a little dry and harsh (and so was the viola/dog of Spring), but this is but part of the great range of instrumental tone she demonstrated readily. In the famous Winter Largo, for example, any doubts regarding the harshness of Baroque strings is brushed aside by the sweet melody intoned.
In fact, one unique quality of the period instruments orchestra is the special textures it creates, by way of the reduced numbers and the "authentic" instruments (either copies or actual instruments from the Baroque period). The effect is to allow each instrument more vocal share of the orchestral voice, and because the tone is thinner, individuals do not meld together as a block mass (like modern strings do) but sort of mesh in a stringy current of lines. It was quite a privilege for me to finally see and hear this in action, either in the busy "ostinato" of Vivaldi (above right) or the delicious harmonies of Bach. When one watches a period orchestra playing, even in tutti passages, one can still listen to each individual playing.
From where I was sitting, it was a joy to watch Pinnock directing from the harpsichord and indeed, the one really fun thing about performing without a baton-wielder is that everyone appears equal. No big-ego conductor here. In the slow movement of Vivaldi's Autumn , which has no solo part scored for either violin or continuo leader, Pinnock volunteered his own (generally the norm nowadays for this movement). Although it is a pity no harpsichord concerti were programmed for the concerts, we nevertheless had many opportunities to catch Pinnock embellishing from his continuo part.
The English Concert was probably at their best in the British pieces. Pinnock's edition of Handel's Water Music, sans horns, involves the expected redistribution of various lines to the other winds (the Alla Hornpipe becomes "Alla Trumpet"), comprising a selection from the D and G suites. The result is much lighter on the ear, with a greater chamber feel. In all, the performances were very atmopherically English, even in the French dances. The encores included the Concerto grosso No.5 from Op.6, a busy and crackling piece which the Concert despatched with much aplomb. Indeed, it seemed less Handelian than CPE Bach, whose busy Third Symphony (WQ182) the Concert also gave a tight, skilful reading (if a little underdramatised; CPE Bach's symphonies being pretty volatile music).
And speaking of recognisability... during the break, I walked backstage to find (Ms Beznosiuk and) Mr Pinnock. Not as tall as I expected, he also turned out to be a graceful gentleman, speaking in soft dignified tone while explaining to me his arrangement of the Water Music. I honestly did not expect this sense of fatherly ease from a Baroque orchestra director (many being ardent, revolutionary fighters for the cause of authenticity), but on reflection: why not? Silly me.
When I showed him a photograph of himself on my copy of the Concert's recent recording of the Bach Orchestral Suites, Mr Pinnock looked bemused at the sight of himself without grey hair (left), but did not say anything as he autographed it. I guess when you use 250-year-old instruments to play 18th century music today, time sort of stands still for a while.
Chia Han-Leon used to play flutes without keys.
406: 15.2.1999 ©Chia Han-Leon Explore the Flying Inkpot They're
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