Saturday 29 January 2000 Victoria Concert Hall	MASTERS SERIES Flute Extravaganza
	Jean SIBELIUS (1865-1957) Finlandia Axel JORGENSEN () Suite for Trombone and Orchestra Christian LINDBERG () Mandrake in the Corner Jan SANDSTRÖM () Cantos de la Mancha Edvard GRIEG Peer Gynt Suite No.1 Christian LINDBERG trombone SHUI Lan conductor

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.

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 Jörgensen'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.

SOO KIAN HING gives a short discourse on brass playing -- specifically lower brass. Ahem. 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. 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. 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 Sandström'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. Sandström'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 Sandström 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.

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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639: 10.2.2000 ©Chia Han-Leon/Soo Kian Hing

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