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I
came mainly for the Sarod Concerto, and I was not disappointed.
A simple
but ornately decorated platform was set up for the soloist, who
would be seated as he played. Before the performance began, Mr Khan
took about three minutes to tune his instrument, which has a resonant,
glowing, lute-like (but more mellow) tone. Having acomplished that,
he thanked us for our patience, and proceeded to relate an incident
in Japan where after the extended tuning session, the audience actually
applauded, thinking it was part of the performance. Mr Khan seemed
highly amused by this, as was the audience. A few of us here in
Singapore will appreciate the irony that, these things actually
happen here too. (Also, for some strange reason known only to the
exceptionally mysterious Singaporean psyche, a member of the audience
thought it appropriate to laugh when Mr Khan, while speaking of
his instrument, stated that the sarod had 21 strings.)
But
on a more serious note, Mr Khan explained, in amiable and soft-spoken
voice, how tuning is a very important part of music, for the act
not only affects the instrument, but also "tunes" our
ears and mood towards the music to come. I was extremely grateful
for his explanation, for I for one do lament how formal concerts
have become. Even in the practice of early music, today and yesterday,
tuning was a very distinct part of the entire artistic experience.
There are recordings of early music today which even include such
preceeding mood-tuning - and as Mr Khan demonstrated, the effect
is very positive and effective in setting the atmosphere for the
performance.
As
I have described, the sarod has a glowing tone. This is largely
a result, if I'm not mistaken, of the fact that of the instruments
21 strings, 17 are sympathetic - meaning, they are not actually
played, but vibrate to produce a background "hum" harmonically
resonant to the notes played on the 4 melodic strings.
The
work begins very quietly as a long crescendo, moving from violas,
cellos through the strings, to the winds, in a giant C chord - the
effect brought to mind the Sunrise from Also Sprach Zarathustra,
which is also based around the C chord. From this, an
absolutely tranquil and lyrical wordless poem emerges from the solo
sarod, reminiscing over a vast orchestral pedal. "The opening
movement," Khan (right) writes, " is the alap or
introduction, composed in the devotional and romantic moods."
Many interesting solos abound in the accompaniment, including swirling
piccolo solos and booming exhortations on lower brass.
The
Western orchestra sounds clearly "alien" to the musical
culture, as if it's in the "wrong world". The different
"scale" used by the sarod, with its microtones and freer
harmonic soundscape, is of a different world to the more restrictive
and accuracy-based western scale. But the support of the Western
orchestra is not entirely out of place. There were many good efforts
from the SSO players to cater to the Eastern style of ornamentation,
eg. the sinuous rubato and intra-note glissandi. A small point though
- it was odd to see so many non-Eastern players take these important
solos. In some cases, as in the SSO's new principal cello, Nella
Hunkins, the style was not convincing. It was a good effort, but
I had the feeling that our long-time acting principal Liu Peng would
do better. On the other hand, the more experienced Alexander Souptel
did very well in his solo, a very remarkable effort which even Mr
Khan obviously approved of. (Having said this, I should add that
the Russians are more East than West).
The
opening slow section is followed by an extended percussion interlude,
"which is almost a cadenza for an array of exotic instruments
combining a range of various Indian and Western rhythms, symbolising
the importance of the rhythmic aspect of Indian music" (Khan).
The "array" is vast, including a full drumset, tom-toms,
xylophone, glockenspiel, bells and tam-tam among others. The combination
is surprisingly in tune with the work, never jarring or too out-of-place
- and very enjoyable. The final fast movement follows, a joyous
and vibrant piece, cleverly and musically crafting its material
in an energetic build-up to a majestic and spiritually triumphant
conclusion. The audience roared its approval.
Visit
Wajahatkhan.com
Listening
to the Shostakovich First after this magnificent essay in oriental
music proved to be (relatively speaking) a mistake. As a reviewer
reviewing this concert, I must relate my experience, however "unfair".
After the beauty, optimism and grace of the Sarod Concerto, I found
the Shostakovich blunt, heavy-handed, crude and graceless - which
is at least in part the nature of the music anyway. The first movement
and the last were heavily done; the SSO did not lack weight, but
by and large I found the orchestral soundscape flat and overcooked.
Similarly, the Lento was full of sound, but somehow lacked a sense
of conviction. There was no lack of dark atmosphere, but a shortage
of emotional intensity. The performance was mainly relieved by the
spritely colour and hectic vivacity of the scherzic second movement,
with gracefully wispy and light-headed playing in the trio.
Overall,
I really must confess that I was totally out of tune with the Shostakovich
right after the Sarod Concerto - which, by the way, is a very important
point I'd like to highlight to the people who programme these concerts.
Mr Khan's point about "mood" plays right into this situation
- just as his tuning sets the mood for the concerto (and perfectly,
might I add), programmers must note how one piece affects another
in a concert. A bad combination such as this threatens to ruin audience
satisfaction in the same way a loud cough totally destroys the atmosphere
of a serene pianissimo passage.
The
Elgar Cockaigne Overture is also, if I were to be an over-sensitive
freak, a somewhat poor choice, considering that it is quintessentially
British music from the colonial era (you know, Great Britain, India...).
But no, I'm not stuck in the anti-colonialism movement, so I won't
say any more of this. The SSO's performance in this was also somewhat
heavier than I would favour, and rather cloudy of tone, though once
again this is in part the nature of the music. Towards the middle
section, things were much clearer, with strings in lush voice and
lower brass displaying vibrant British bombast, if a little too
dark in tone. As in the recent performance of Walton's Spitfire
Prelude, the SSO could have sounded more brilliant and injected
more swagger. Nevertheless, the work ended with adequate pomp.
CHIA
HAN-LEON is presently watching the second season of DS9.
Better late than never, right?
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WAJAHAT
KHAN is universally recognised as one of the
leading sarod players of India. Son and nephew of the legendary
Indian musicians Ustad Imrat Khan and Ustad Vilayet Khan,
his family traces its origins back 400 years through a line
of celebrated musicians to the court of the great Moghul Emperor
Akbar in the 16th century. Belonging to the eighth generation,
he started his training under his father from the age of three,
studying singing, sitar and surbabar in his family's tradition,
and later the sarod. He is the first sarod player of this
distinguished musical dynasty, which has shaped and influenced
the course of North Indian instrumental music up to the present
day and is responsible for the evolution of the sitar and
the creation of the surbabar.
THE
SAROD
The sarod evolved from the rabab of Afghanistan folk
tradition. Its name is derived from the Persian word meaning
"melody". The sarod is a short-necked, plectral
instrument, fretless with a fingerboard covered with a metal
plate. Wajahat Khan plays on a sarod carved from a single
piece of teak, with 21 strings, 4 of which are melody strings,
the rest drone and sympathetic strings.
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