Saturday 29 January 2000 Victoria Concert Hall |
MASTERS SERIES
Flute Extravaganza |
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Jean SIBELIUS (1865-1957) Finlandia Axel JORGENSEN () Suite for Trombone and Orchestra Christian LINDBERG () Mandrake in the Corner Jan SANDSTRM () Cantos de la Mancha Edvard GRIEG Peer Gynt Suite No.1
Christian LINDBERG trombone |
OVERALL NOISE RATING: 2 (Well, it's a good idea that on Friday's recording session, there was no audience.)
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.
by Chia Han-Leon and Soo Kian Hing
There were many special things in this concert, not least the presence of the avatar of the trombone himself, Christian Lindberg, who really gave value for money (and time, etc.) by performing solo in three works. And not just solo trombone too!
The first on the main menu was Danish composer Axel Jrgensen's Suite for Trombone and Orchestra. Although completed in 1926, it turned out to be a fairly nondescript, tonal work rooted more in the late 19th century. The first and second movements are declamatory in nature - the musical material is more "theatrical" than melodic. The first, entitled "Triomphale", treats the solo part in arioso fashion, which Lindberg delivered in his serious, ram-rod straight manner.
The second movement minuet is a gentle piece, the mood continued in the theme of the concluding Ballade. This last movement is the most substantial of three, which displays the trombone's capabilities in the variations of the Polonaise.
Much more spectacular was Lindberg's own composition, Mandrake in the Corner. There was nothing for me to expect, but I was totally convinced by this piece. It begins with a string intro, neo-classical in taste, before Lindberg himself entered with a threatening solo, moody and dark, echoed evocatively by the brass section. Smatterings of all kinds of music are imbued in the music - I thought I heard a little tango in the violins, and mostly there was the sensation - as Lindberg himself described, of music for "a B-class thriller movie". Well, if it was that, I'd give it a B++ at least! Film music-wise, it also reminded me of something that might be used for some dark sci-fi epic, with also space for mafia elements.
The second movement began with keening strings, the "aurora" effect distinctive of many Nordic composers. It is a work bristling with great ideas, for example the cello pedal with the "underwater" bell-tolling sounds from the brass - haunting and spellbinding. The final movement accelerates the mood, with the trombonist launching into flutter-tongued passages with the kind of aplomb only expected of Lindberg. The music is again dramatic yet precise, concise - every note effective right through the orchestration.
The evening was quite appropriately titled "Scandinavian
Surprise". The first surprise was that the Singapore
Symphony Orchestra was in fine form tonight. Finlandia was patriotic and
stoic, with an unshakeable bass and solemn but warm strings; the growl of
the opening chord alone was menacing enough to draw an audible gasp from an
unsuspecting lady seated one row before me. Though Grieg's Peer Gynt Suite
was less impressive, Shui Lan was brave enough to steer the orchestra
dangerously close to the margin that divided a warrantedly safe reading from
a madcap run of ecstasy. The result was an interpretation wrought with
emotional tension. And, yes, his signature wild gesticulation on the
podium was a sight to behold. But these were not what most of the audience
came for.
Tonight's audience makeup was a little different from the usual. Admittedly there were the obligatory expatriates who have
been the staunch supporters of the classical music scene locally; but the
main strength of the large turnup tonight was made up of members of school,
college or community bands, and instructors and teachers within the field of
band music. For to many of them (yours truly included), Christian Lindberg
was the underdog made good.
One of the reasons for Lindberg's success is his ability to play in the
higher register for trombone without sounding strained or weak. In fact,
his tone very closely resembles a warm, mellow flugelhorn whenever he plays
at the top of the range, giving a velvety, cantabile quality to the
normally brassy voice of the trombone.
The resulting unique voice was so
immediately recognisable that this reviewer could only think of that timbre
as being Lindberg's own and nobody else's (the same recognisable tone as
that in his recordings). In the rest of the range, Lindberg had
impeccable control over his tonal colour, being able to play as softly or as
loudly as he wanted without ever cracking a note (in local band jargon, this
is called 'blasting' - the undesirable effect of using a short blast of air
to create a cracked, jarring metallic noise, for want of greater volume.
This represents an inability on the part of the player to channel more air
to give a more resonant note of better musical quality.)
Besides a beautiful singing tone, a solo instrumentalist must of course be
fluent in technique and virtuosity peculiar to his instrument. In this
Lindberg might be said to be less didactic, for he frequently mispitched in
many of the pieces. His tonguing was accomplished, though, and he had no
problem with the myriad uses of the slide, a contraption that allows the
trombone freedom to produce many comic and dramatic effects.
I must also
mention that Lindberg can play two notes at one time - yes,
simultaneously - an unusual technique in performance, producing a pedal
bass note together with a high note, which wowed the audience in
the last movement of Sandstrm's Cantos de la Mancha.
However, Sandstrom's five-movement work was not so much musical as dramatic,
for besides the trombone and the orchestra, the piece relied extremely
heavily on visual impact. The trombone soloist is the showman here,
shouting incantations, hopping about the stage, stomping on the floor with
the trombone slide, singing a poem, engaging in one-man fights, and even
stripping down to his johns; all to depict the legendary Spanish knight Don
Quixote, "the victor of all battles" who fought impossible battles against
rationalism, who in the end came to a tragic end.
Sandstrm's programmatic
music paved the setting for the short movements which each told a story from
Don Quixote's life; yet it was the soloist who had to bring the entire work
to life with his stage presence. And Lindberg was no less suited for the
role, completely immersed in his portrayal of the relentless hero;
this very theatrical performance was the surprise that no one
anticipated.
This was one programme that can only be appreciated by
attending it.
Technically, Lindberg's composition is surprisingly effective considering the (quote) "instinctive" method he employed in writing it. Speaking of his other work, Arabenne, "My main goal ... has been to try and write whatever comes to the audial part of my brain, without judging it as bad, good, success, failure or anything else. In a way, like when a 5-year old sits down and makes a drawing." Well, if Lindberg can compose a work like Mandrake with this philosphy - may he retain his spirit of youth forever!
His orchestration may be a matter of argument, but I love it! - it does reflect his philosophy in the way the instruments seem to utter sounds according to their "audibility". There is no sense that the work was written with some musical theory or formula in mind; rather, there is a sensation that the parts, whether string, brass or percussion, were written with the listener in mind. And it is obvious by the way Lindberg makes everything so transparent in this 1998 work (rev.2000) that every note written is meant to be heard and enjoyed - the textures, colour and effect.
This concert programme was performed 'live' only on one day, as the previous was used for recording. I await the release of the CD with bated breath.
Jan Sandstrm is no longer a strange name with regards to either SSO programming or among fans of Christian Lindberg. But music-theatre is still a rare sight on stage. The notes in the booklet (by the composer himself) hint at, but did not reveal the extent of the "final therapeutic settlement of the issue of restrictive rules" that the composer intends in his Cantos de la Mancha. Boy were we in for a surprise.
Lindberg walked in normally enough, but immediately surprised the audience with a loud and violent (verbal) exclamation in... I think it's Spanish and quoted from (this I assume, made up the entire "cadenza" of the first movement. With wild vehemence, Lindberg tore off his jacket, kicked off his shoes and hurled them into the front seats (no wonder the front three rows were empty) as the orchestra leapt into their introduction. Immediately we were thrust into the very 'live' world of music-theatre. "To walk where the bold man makes a halt" - swinging his trombone in wide arcs, spewing jeering glissandi and (aiming the instrument at the floor) tapping the stage with the trombone slide - Don Quixote seemed to depict his defiant battles against his fabled windmills.
SOO KIAN HING gives a short discourse on brass playing --
specifically lower brass. Ahem.
Playing an instrument which carries little more than an accompanying role in
most orchestral music, Lindberg's reputation has grown in size over the past
few years with the premiering of numerous trombone concertos written
specially for him, and playing in various other recitals and solo concerts.
The trombone may not be your usual solo instrument, not as deeply-rooted in
tradition as the violin or the piano, or even the trumpet or the French
horn. But of late, thanks to Lindberg's infatiguable efforts, the
repertoire for solo trombone, and the instrument's unique niche on the
concert platform, has literally mushroomed overnight.
The work is based on the famous text, Don Quixote de la Mancha by Miguel de Cervantes, which depicts the foolish idealist hellbent on righting wrongs. As Sandstrm puts it, Cantos de la Mancha is "a tribute to the ridiculous intuitive and emotional human being who is engaged in his impossible fight against rationalism and the intellect." The way the theatrics challenge, strain at and transcend the music (or musical realm) itself seems to parallel this.
"To row against a rushing stream", Lindberg announced as the third movement begun. The orchestra sung long melismalic lines, with harmonies based on Arabic music. The movement depicts the daughter of an Algerian king looking for the imprisoned slave she loves. She attempts to pass a message to him in prison, and succeeds only after the fourth try. The trombonist taps the stage again, now softly, four times. Thereafter, a beautiful love song, with trombone singing over a string hymn, takes over.
This gentle evocation is directly in contrast with the next movement, "To believe in an insane dream" - "Don Quixote meets a man called Cardenio who, driven out of his mind by an unhappy love affair, is running around naked among the bushes." Don Quixote transfers (ah, psychology) this to himself and runs around naked too, composing poems on trees and sand. On Christian Lindberg's part, the man actually stripped off his pants to reveal gray tights underneath - in this jester-like outfit, he enacted his love lost besides eccentric, grotesque music, half-mad and totally refreshing.
Lindberg's resourcefulness is amazing - undoing his belt, he reversed it and tied it to his head to turn it into a bandage already soaked in blood. In the final movement, "To smile despite unbearable pain", Don Quixote insults a goatherd and is engaged in a humiliating and fatal fight. The tumultous music sees Lindberg battling with his trombone - and true to this tragi-comic absurdist drama, he eventually stabs himself. The music ends by depicting Quixote's strange but somehow heroic, meaningful yet pointless end. Having been quite caught up in this performance, the silent audience (except during the laughter) burst into tremendous applause and cheers.
The concert began with a fine reading of Sibelius' Finlandia - the most impressive thing which was the brass choir, full-bodied and well-toned. Shui Lan proved again his ability with Sibelius, weaving transparent lines with the SSO. As in his performance of the First Symphony in 1998, he surprised with his own take on the music. The quotation of the "Finlandia Hymn" at the end of the work, which is often slowed down in most performances, was accelerated in Shui Lan's hands - the result which preserved the excitement of the music through to the satisfying end.
The SSO has had a good performance record with Peer Gynt, and tonight's selections continued that tradition. Led by that famous flute solo, Morning Mood may have found the violins in somewhat steely tone, but the woodwinds and brass were in good voice. The performance was a bit on the earthy side - perhaps the players could make this light music float more. The Death of se featued the dark string orchestra, atmospherically rendered, and Anitra's Dance in very beautiful soto voce. A thunderous and excitingly paced In the Hall of the Mountain King completed one of Shui Lan's and the SSO's best concerts in a long time.
As if to reflect that, on the second or third curtain call, Shui Lan bowed to the orchestra first, before turning to the audience. Well done.
Chia Han-Leon was once at the receiving end of a particularly skilled trombone player. Say that again?
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Bit deadish:
| SSO and Christian Lindberg |
| Don Quixote |
"So saying, he gave the spur to his steed Rocinante, heedless of the cries his squire Sancho sent after him, warning him that most certainly they were windmills and not giants he was going to attack. He, however, was so positive they were giants that he neither heard the cries of Sancho, nor perceived, near as he was, what they were.
"Fly not, cowards and vile beings," he shouted, "for a single knight attacks you."
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