SSO Concert / Renaud Capuçon Gala / Review

RENAUD CAPUÇON GALA
Singapore Symphony Orchestra
Esplanade Concert Hall
Saturday (26 February 2011)

This review was published in The Straits Times

on 28 February 2011 with the title

"Capuçon and a lesson in music".

Naming this gala concert after the renowned young French violinist was a shrewd marketing ploy, when it was a lesson about music from the classical era, a period lasting from the 1760s to early 1820s. Only 34 years separated the three works, beginning with Haydn’s Symphony No.44 (1772), nicknamed Trauer (or Mourning), his first in a sombre minor key.

SSO does not perform enough Haydn, but it accepted the challenge gratefully by not treating it like a makeweight. Supple unison strings created an uneasy tension from its outset, one that permeated its 20 minutes. Dark clouds gathered for the first two movements, fully conveying the essence of sturm und drang (storm and stress). The slow movement, although in a major key, was no less serious. Little wonder Haydn requested it be played at his funeral.

Mozart’s Symphony No.38 in D major (1887), named the Prague Symphony (his favourite city), was a far more jolly affair. The orchestra shifted gears accordingly for the mellifluous melodies that filled its congenial three movements. Snippets from operas (Don Giovanni and The Magic Flute) were quoted, and did one notice the second subject of the second movement?

Someone suggested it could have been the source of Elgar’s Enigma theme of his famous orchestra variations. At any rate, Shui Lan who conducted both symphonies from memory, commanded the first hour with great charm and aplomb, setting the stage for Renaud Capuçon’s appearance.

For these ears, their collaboration in Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major (1806) came close to the perfect version. No apologies were made for performing in the “traditional” manner, far removed from the astringent sound preached by the period performance movement. Orchestral tuttis were full and heroically conceived, and Capuçon’s “Panette” Guarnerius violin (once belonging to Isaac Stern) breathed a fulsome and awe-inspiring vibrato.

A dynamo packed into a compact frame, his sound was huge, and the choice of Fritz Kreisler’s dazzling and Romantic cadenzas fit like hand to glove. The slow movement was particularly eloquent and beautiful, before happily leaping into the hay of the finale’s jocular Rondo. While no encore could come after such sublime music, Capucon obliged with one – the lovely Melody from Gluck’s Orpheus.

Renaud Capuçon will perform more Beethoven – his Violin Sonatas – with pianist Frank Braley today and tomorrow (Monday and Tuesday) at the Yong Siew Toh Conservatory. Don’t miss that!

KEVIN LOH Guitar Recital / Review

KEVIN LOH Guitar Recital
Esplanade Concert Hall
Friday (25 February 2011)

This review was published in The Straits Times

on 28 February 2011 with the title

"Kevin wows on guitar".

A little piece of history was made last week. The first ever solo classical guitar recital by a Singaporean guitarist at Esplanade Concert Hall was given by the 13-year-old Kevin Loh, recipient of the prestigious HSBC Youth Excellence Award in 2010. A student of UK’s Yehudi Menuhin School, the teenager’s youth belied an artist of uncommon maturity and poise.

This two-hour long recital showcased him in multi-faceted roles, as solo recitalist and in collaboration with other instrumentalists. The solo segments opened and closed the recital, beginning with Andrew York’s Jubilation and Sunburst. What sounded like mere improvisation soon expanded into an exuberant display of pyrotechnics, which continued into Paganini’s inventive Andantino Variations (from the Gran Sonata)and Paulo Bellinati’s Brazilian dance Drongo.

He performs with very clear articulation, never losing the melodic thread nor pulse of the narrative, and communicates with disarming ease. His technique is prodigious, yet there is no virtuosity for its own sake, a case of facility serving the expressive soul of the music.

Together with string players from the Orchestra of Music Makers, they performed Vivaldi’s Concerto in D major (RV.93), originally scored for the lute. Ever sensitive to his partners, Loh’s solo part transcended the ensemble effortlessly, making most of the slow movement’s seamless serenade. Even better was Malcolm Arnold’s bittersweet Serenade, with its pastoral musings finding a brief diversion of playfulness before returning to a sublime respite.

With Xpose! guitar ensemble led by Ow Leong San, there was a movement of Bach from the Violin Concerto in A minor (BWV.1041) and the unbuttoned gypsy elan of Monti’s Czardas. Loh then joined his former teacher Ernest Kwok in Christian Gottlieb Scheidler’s Sonata For 2 Guitars, in three movements of classical era finery. The quasi-Mozart charms were hard to resist.

Two contrasting solo pieces by Mauro Giuliani and Roland Dyen’s Fuoco from Libre Sonatine completed the evening’s unmitigated pleasure. For the latter, Loh lit up the stage with a fiery rhythmic drive and close with percussive drumming on the guitar’s wooden parts. A very soulful encore of the Main Theme from film composer John Williams’s Schindler’s List showed a pensive side that was also refreshing.

The best part was this: Kevin Loh will continue to develop and mature. Will he someday become Singapore’s version of the Australian guitar giant John Williams?

Kevin Loh @ Esplanade was presented by HSBC.

PIANO PLAYING "OUT OF THE BOX" / Some Words with ALBERT TIU

PIANO PLAYING

“OUT OF THE BOX”

SOME WORDS

with virtuoso pianist

ALBERT TIU

If you are interested in piano music, especially the byways of vast piano literature, you would be daft to miss ALBERT TIU's forthcoming recital at the Yong Siew Toh Conservatory on 6 March 2011 at 7.30 pm. Intriguingly entitled CHOPIN WITHOUT CHOPIN, it is a celebration of Chopin's piano legacy without actually including a single note of Chopin. Instead, one will be enthralled by a selection of Godowsky's Chopin Études, Busoni's Chopin Variations, Skryabin's only Polonaise and Rachmaninov's ambitious Chopin Variations. Here is an interview with the intrepid Filipino master of the keyboard, exclusively on PianoMania!

You hail from the isles of Cebu in the Philippines, perhaps better known for its beaches and diving sites. What was cultural life growing up in Cebu like?

As everyone probably knows, the Filipinos are naturally musical people. Long before American Idol, amateur singing contests were very popular in the Philippines. However there was very little exposure to classical music in Cebu. Once in a while, there would be a recital by a foreign pianist, which would then attract all the classical music enthusiasts. I remember that one such recital was by Klaus Börner, who would several years later adjudicate at the Rolex International Piano Competition in Singapore!

Were your parents musical? And how did you first get involved in music and the piano in particular?

No, my parents were not musical at all, but I have an older sister who taught me the piano, as well as music theory. Lots of households had a piano, so it was kind of natural for kids to take piano lessons. But of course, no one ever dreamed of becoming a serious pianist.

Your musical studies took you to Manila, Hong Kong and onward to Boston and the Juilliard School. How did this happen?

I was studying at the University of the Philippines (Manila) when I first came to Singapore to participate in the Rolex Competition in 1989. The winner of that competition was Ma Cong, who was studying with John Winther at the Hong Kong Academy for Performing Arts. The following year, Mr Winther came to Manila to recruit singers, and I happened to be accompanying some of them. I was so delighted when he offered me a scholarship to study with him, which I accepted immediately. After Hong Kong, I went on to study with Michael Lewin at the Boston Conservatory. I am very grateful to him for guiding my path towards Juilliard, because I’ll always remember my experiences there and in New York.

Albert Tiu's Alice Tully Hall recital in 1998 (left).

With his teachers Michael Lewin (left)

and Jerome Lowenthal (right).

Who were your principal teachers for the piano, and what values with respect to piano technique and literature did they impart to you?

In Cebu, I had a very good teacher named Nelly Castro. She really opened my eyes and ears to the possibilities of the piano. When I was studying in Manila, Nita Quinto taught me economy of movement. John Winther taught me to look beyond the piano for inspiration, and to play in a stylish manner. With Michael Lewin, I learned the importance of ownership; it simply wasn’t good enough to play something well, because I had to “own” every piece I played. At Juilliard, I learned more about being an individual artist under Jerome Lowenthal, and he influenced me to approach music intellectually and intelligently. I really value this last bit, because I have learned to balance emotion with intellect.

You are a veteran in international piano competitions. One of your earliest competitions was the Rolex International Piano Competition (Singapore) in 1989, when you performed Brahms’ Second Piano Concerto with the SSO. What were you thinking performing that concerto?

I must say that the Brahms was my teacher’s choice. I very much wanted to do the Tchaikovsky First, but my teacher convinced me that Brahms had a lot more to offer. Looking back, I admit that Tchaikovsky would have been a better choice (which meant that there would have been three Tchaikovsky performances in the final!), simply because I lacked the intellectual and emotional maturity to fully understand the Brahms at that time.

First Prize at the 1996 UNISA Competition

in Pretoria, South Africa with joint runners-up

Andreas Woyke and Dmitri Teterin.

You’ve also had major prizes in competitions in Pretoria, Calgary and Helsinki. Which of these, for you, was the most memorable?

It would have to be Pretoria in 1996 (above), not just because I won 1st Prize, but also because of all the events surrounding it. South Africa seemed a really exotic destination for a piano competition, so a few of us from Juilliard went just for the sheer heck of it. When I arrived at the airport, I was whisked away by people from the Philippine Embassy. I have never in my life been treated with such amazing hospitality by people who knew nothing about me, except for my nationality. They had organised a party for me during my first night in Pretoria, and one American diplomat at the party made a random statement, “You will win 1st Prize.” Of course, I thought it was total crap, since he knew nothing about music or competitions.

The small Filipino community there was so supportive, and they came to listen whenever I played. One woman told me that she had a dream in which I won First Prize. I’m not a superstitious person, so I never thought that these were omens. So when it was announced that I had won the 2 concerto prizes (for Mozart and Romantic), I almost died onstage, because I knew by then that I had won. And to top it all, my wife Susan was there to share my joy. In fact, she came on Valentine’s Day, just in time for the finals, carrying my black tails.

Also, during the month before the Pretoria competition, I had been in another competition in Alabama in which I played the Rachmaninov Second Concerto, and I also played the Lou Harrison First Concerto with the New Juilliard Ensemble a week later. It was such a hectic period of my life, so looking back, I don’t know how I did it.

Master of champions, with prize-winning students

Azariah Tan, Li Zhen and Maria Immaculata Setiadi

at the 2009 National Piano Competition.

Still on competitions, many of your students at the Conservatory have distinguished themselves winning top prizes in the National Piano Competition. What is your secret in excelling in concours?

There is no secret. Some people think that they can play according to the taste of the jury members, which is impossible to do, if you have three or more different individuals. Perhaps one key is to choose repertoire suitable to one’s personality and to play it really well. And it doesn’t have to be very difficult repertoire. In fact, I know one pianist, Pierre Mancinelli, who played some Bach Inventions and went on to win 3rd Prize in Helsinki. If you believe strongly in what you’re doing, that vibe usually goes through to the listener.

Having attended most of your recitals and concerto concerts, it appears that piano music of the Romantic era captivates you most. What draws you to the piano music of Chopin, Skryabin, Rachmaninov and Godowsky (above)?

One of these days, I’m going to do a recital called Mozart and Haydn on Clementi (Road)! And don’t forget the 3 B’s – Bolcom, Berio and Boulez! There are so many thematic programmes I would like to do, but haven’t gotten to them yet.

I guess I feel the closest affinity to Romantic music because of the sumptuous chromaticism and lush textures. Chopin and Skryabin, because of their lyrical treatment of the piano; Rachmaninov, because he took piano writing to stratospheric heights, even when people thought that the idiom he was writing in had already been exhausted; and Godowsky, because of the clever inventiveness with which he spun other composers’ music. Besides, who knew that one can keep adding layers and layers of counterpoint and still sound so beautiful? Some of those Chopin Studies are so deceptively difficult, because they are a bit like juggling eight balls and yet have to sound ethereally fluid.

You’ve given the Singapore premieres of Rachmaninov’s First Sonata and Barber’s Piano Concerto. You also gave possibly the world’s first piano recital for music for the right hand alone. A recent CD recording Nocturnal Fantasies (left) juxtaposes Chopin with Skryabin, and your latest recital is about Chopin, but without Chopin’s music. What influences the unique nature of your programming?

As students, we learn a diversity of music that traverses the Baroque, Classic, Romantic and Contemporary periods, so that we get a well-rounded musical education. Doing all those piano competitions, the repertoire requirements in some of them were quite specific, which I felt limited one’s potential. While I was still at Juilliard, I started to discover a wealth of seldom-performed repertoire, which really appealed to me. Not that there was anything wrong with playing Chopin’s G minor Ballade or Beethoven’s Pathetique Sonata, but I simply felt that I needed to explore music beyond the usual suspects.

I remember playing the Rachmaninov First Sonata in one competition, and John Browning, who was on the jury, said that it was absolutely stunning. I also played Stockhausen’s Piano Piece No.5 a lot, and members of the jury and audience would say that it was refreshing to hear something different. I did the Sweelinck Variations, the Mendelssohn Fantasie (Op.28) and the Tchaikovsky Grand Sonata, and they all served me really well. So I guess all of these experiences have stuck with me, so much so that after so long of going outside of the box, I felt that it was time to now go back inside the box!

I think it’s simply too formulaic and predictable to play a recital with a “balanced” programme, so I began to think of thematic programming. By putting a “box” on my recital programmes, I thought that it would give people something to think and talk about, instead of just another recital. My right hand recital was done out of necessity, because of my dislocated left thumb. I don’t think I’ll ever do it again, unless something happens to my left hand again (knock on wood)!

Rumour has it that you’ll be tackling Rachmaninov’s Third Piano Concerto next. Tell us about the future.

Ha! Where did you hear that rumour? This means I have to practice eight hours a day from now on! Rach 3 is really the pinnacle of piano writing in a concerto, so I’m really looking forward to it with the Orchestra of the Music Makers on August 26th. I’ll be doing quite a bit of chamber music in the next several months: the Beethoven and Brahms Quintets in the SSO Chamber Series on April 17th, the Brahms Quintet with the Australian String Quartet in May, the Coriole Music Festival in South Australia in May, and a recital with Li-Wei Qin in Germany in July. Li-Wei and I will also be recording the Rachmaninov Cello Sonata, along with other short pieces.

Albert Tiu was interviewed by PianoManiac.

CD Reviews (The Straits Times, February 2011)

BRAHMS Variations for Solo Piano
GARRICK OHLSSON, Piano
Hyperion 67777 (2 CDs)
******

Johannes Brahms’ early piano output was filled with large ambitious pieces, which got progressively smaller as he matured and aged. His six sets of piano variations are youthful works which contain some of his most virtuosic and original thoughts. Early promise may be found in his Op.21 pair, based on an original theme and Hungarian folksong respectively, but the Schumann Variations (Op.9), spare and pensive, reveal a visionary mind.

More familiar are his Handel Variations (Op.24), which build ever so inexorably around a popular air and climaxing in a massive fugal culmination. Piano competition junkies favour the Paganini Variations (Op.35), after the 24th Caprice (itself a set of variations), two books of Brahms’ most fiendish finger-busters. American pianist Garrick Ohlsson is the ideal Brahmsian, combining blustery brawn with an intimacy of touch and tone allure. His razor-sharp reflexes revels in the music’s sharp turns and contrasts, and does not miss a note. At 2 discs for the price of one, this set remains a prime recommendation.

THE SINGER AND THE SONG
Decca 478 2360 (2CDs)

****1/2

What makes a great song? Catchy and hummable melodies, memorable words, and the right singers to give the definitive performance. This collection of non-operatic songs draws from musicals, movies, folk traditions and popular culture, sung by the great vocalists of our time. Not all are idiomatic. Any of The Three Tenors singing in English will be dodgy, and operatic voices often do not suit the arch-simplicity of the popular song. But there are surprises. American soprano Renee Fleming completely makes Stevie Wonder’s My Cherie Amour and the Beatles’ In My Life her own. She does not oversing, and neither does Swedish mezzo-soprano Anne Sofie von Otter who sounds so natural in two Abba songs.

The Dutch soprano Elly Ameling feels the beat in Cole Porter’s Begin The Beguine and I Get The Kick Out Of You. The crossover forays of Bryn Terfel, Barbara Hendricks and Thomas Quasthoff are already well known. Some of the accompanists are top draw too, Andre Previn plays jazz piano for Sylvia McNair’s Jerome Kern and Kiri Te Kanawa’s Johnny Mandel, while the Labeque Sisters do their bit for Gershwin. Try as you may, but it is hard to really dislike these 38 tracks.

Hong Kong's Best Kept Secrets: The HK Heritage Museum

Another of Hong Kong's best kept secrets is the HK Heritage Museum, located in Shatin, New Territories. The large cavernous building houses several interesting exhibits on New Territories heritage and culture, the Tsui Collection, the Chao Shao-An gallery and several rotating exhibits.

Admission fee: HKD 10

FREE on Wednesdays, Closed on Tuesdays.

Take a peaceful stroll along the Shatin Canal,

a short walk from Che Kung Temple and Tai Wai MTR stations.

Yu Kai's Cantonese opera costumes.

A typical Cantonese opera stage.

A New Territories fishing village.

Buddhist art at the Tsui collection.

A Tibetan tangkha

Chairman Mao loves

Generalissimo Chiang,

art by a Chinese artist living in Germany.

A glimpse of the Poster Trienniel.

A HONG KONG DIARY (20-22 February 2011) / Part I

Ever wondered why they call it Statue Square?

Sunday, 20 February 

Face it. When it comes to music, the Singapore Arts Festival cannot hold a candle to the Hong Kong Arts Festival. I have been a regular visitor to the SAR’s annual arts fest since 2000, catching class acts in music which will not see the light of day at the Esplanade. The year 2002 was Mussorgsky’s Boris Godunov (the Moscow Bolshoi Opera, no less), 2004 was Beethoven’s Fidelio (Berlin Komische Oper), 2008 was Messiaen’s Vingt Regards sur l’enfant Jesus (Joanna MacGregor), and this year’s draw was Masaaki Suzuki’s Bach Collegium Japan with two evenings of Bach (including my first ever experience of St Matthew Passion). 

Did I mention Cecilia Bartoli? Having confirmed my flight tickets and hotel for three evenings, I found to my horror that the Italian mezzo’s gig on 22 Feb had been completely sold out! The official ticketing website had displayed “limited tickets”, which prompted my rash decision to book the flights, but that’s not the same as “no tickets”. Anyway hope springs eternal as I descended into the smoggy metropolis. My ritual first stops after checking in – a cut price set lunch followed by a CD shopping spree at HMV. The exchange rate is decent (1 SGD = 6 HKD), so why not? Having braved the Sunday throng at Central (it’s the day off for the domestic help), Bach awaited at City Hall Concert Hall.

Hong Kong or Manila?

Someday I’ll get to hear all the 200 and more Bach cantatas, but at this time I’m happy to tick off those I’ve heard in concert or on disc, like some obsessed trainspotter. The Bach Collegium Japan is a period performance group with a small band (two per part) and a choir of not more than 20. I’ve heard their recordings, and they are as good if not better than the best in UK and Germany. It’s the light, lithe sound of their playing (as with others like Gardiner) that appeal to me most, rather than those dreary and heavy orchestral versions (no names mentioned) of less enlightened decades past. 

Sporting a distinct silver mane, Masaaki Suzuki looks like some guru from the Zen temple of baroque. He conducts without a baton, looking clear and precise in his directions. I’d like to sing under him sometime. The soloists – soprano Hana Blazikova, countertenor Robin Blaze, tenor Gerd Turk and bass Peter Kooij – sing from within the choral ranks. They’re all very good, and the all-Japanese choir responds with a crispness and fervour that is hard to dislike. Close your eyes, and one thinks they are Germans.

They performed three cantatas, No.72 Alles nur nach Gottes willen (Everything according to God’s will), No.159 Sehet, wir gehn hinauf gen Jerusalem (See, we are going up to Jerusalem) and possibly the most famous one of them all, No.147 Herz und Mund und Tat und Leben (Heart and Mouth and Deed and Life). I don’t go to church services so often these days, but if choirs perform a cantata in place of some overlong sermon, I might be persuaded to change my mind. 

Besides the wonderful music, the words and their meanings come through very vividly. The message is not the usual popular feel good “God loves yer” (in those inane American-styled pop songs) but rather the burden of bearing the cross that Christians face, and the vigorous statement of true faith. There was an additional number, Alles mit Gott (All things with God, BWV.1127:1-3), an extended aria discovered as recently as 2005. Soprano Blazikova sang it with great beauty. Her voice is light and penetrating, and the string accompaniment ever so sensitive. 

For the final cantata, the trumpet came in for a burst of festive colour, and there was that gasp of recognition from the audience when the chorale of Woll mir, dass ich Jesum habe arrived. That’s the same music as Jesu bleibet meine Freude, or what us English speakers say Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring. A lovely way to close a lovely evening.

As safe as the banks of HK.

A HONG KONG DIARY (20-22 February 2011) / Part II

The spanking new I Square Shopping Centre

on Nathan Road, Tsim Sha Tsui.

Monday, 21 February

I make it a point to visit a different Hong Kong museum every time I come. The HK Heritage Museum is located in Shatin, in the New Territories, but nowhere is very far when you have such an efficient mass transit rail system. A massive hangar-like edifice greets you as one exits the Che Kung Temple station. It is huge, given the many different exhibits about HK culture, art and social life it exhibits. The offerings today include design, poster art, Chinese brush painting (the Chao Shao An school), Tibetan artefacts and Tang Dynasty figures (the Tsui collection), history and life in the New Territories and the Cantonese opera phenomenon (with a collection of legendary singer Yu Kai’s costumes). It is easy to get lost in two hours of wandering around here.

A Tang dynasty horse at the HK Heritage Museum.

Back in town, I approach the box office of the Cultural Centre in a hope of return tickets for the Bartoli concert. As luck would have it, they’ve got just one ticket, the very last one – at the princely sum of HKD 1280 - and I grabbed it like an Ethiopian meeting a breadroll. After lunch with my favourite Hong Kong aunt, another CD shopping spree, this time at Ladies Market and its smattering of delightfully uncoordinated shops, loaded like some musical Alladin’s cave, And of course, there is always Shun Cheong Records and its latest array of temptations. I succumb gratefully. Back at the hotel, I’ve discovered that my good friends at the Chopin Society of Hong Kong had also trawled for Bartoli returns, and netted a biggie too. Instead of a big fat nought, I now have two tickets!

They really love the arts in HK.

A typical scene at City Hall Concert Hall.

I don’t know when the next performance of Bach’s St Matthew Passion will come again, so I had better make good this one. All ears, I allowed Bach’s musical evangelism to regale me with his vision of apostle Matthew’s account of Jesus’ passion. The opening chorus Komm, ihr Töchter (Come, you daughters) is serious rather than joyous, and one meant to reaffirm one’s faith and convert the unbeliever. “This was how Jesus died for your sins”, and the story unfolded through tenor Gerd Turk’s Evangelist (Narrator). Bass Peter Kooij’s Jesus, dark and rich in stature, was a sympathetic presence. The series of recitatives and arias followed, punctuated by the choruses and chorales, each making a comment on each turn of history. For me, the chorales are the heart and soul of the Passion. The familiar strains of the chorale, first heard as Erkenne mich, mein Huter (Recognise me, my guardian), and repeated another four times, each returning with ever resounding reassurance.

Again Masaaki Suzuki’s direction was authoritative, with two orchestral groups and two choirs on either flanks, and an assortment of keyboards (two chamber organs and a harpsichord) in the middle. In those days, such forces were supposed to be massive. I am overwhelmed by the show of evangelistic vigour, but the moment to die for was the sublime Erbarme dich (Have mercy) sung by countertenor Robin Blaze with Ryo Terakado’s violin obbligato. Has Bach written a more beautiful and beseeching melody? Probably not. Sixty-eight numbers and three and a half hours later (the concert ended at 11 pm), I am as bright as a lark and not complaining of a sore back. A hearty late night steak dinner supper at Sik Heung Yuen Café (on Saigon Street, off Nathan Road) in Jordan is further reward.

I'm not a vegetarian. Nobody's perfect.

A HONG KONG DIARY (20-22 February 2011) / Part III

Tuesday, 22 February

I have a lunch appointment with Dr Anabella Freris of the Chopin Society of Hong Kong, but it was more bargain CD hunting in Central before that. Naxos CDs are the cheapest when you buy them in Hong Kong. At HKD 45-49 (just about eight dollars and below) per disc, its about half the price of that you find in Singapore. 

My favourite little shop is Percival Records (35 Wing Kut Street), another thoroughly disorganised (but in a neat way) hole in a wall tucked in a tiny alley filled with pushcart stalls and shops. Run by a family, establishments like this in Singapore have long gone the way of the dodo. Remember the friendly Sing Music in Lucky Plaza? I have patronised Percival Records since 1990, when it was distinctly musty but had the cheapest classical discs in town. It is still very competitive (compared with the behemoths of HMV, HK Records and Music Warehouse), and credit cards are now accepted. No guilt in blowing a thousand dollars (HK currency) here.

If HK and Singapore are competing on the subject of which is the more vibrant city, the former still leads. Lunch at IFC at a bistro overlooking Kowloon’s new skyline (soon to resemble Manhattan’s after the height restriction was removed) was a case in point. Everthing seemed so “happening”, a buzz which I’ve never felt at home. Maybe I’m biased, as I have yet to have lunch at the Marina Bay Sands.

Trying to look optimistic in making a sale.

Now what do I do with that extra Cecilia Bartoli ticket? Fortunately the concert is fully sold out. I approached the Arts Festival Counter, and the girl says: leave the ticket with us, and we’ll let you know tomorrow if its been sold. Tomorrow? And with no guarantee of a sale? No thanks. I try my luck and stand in front of the booth, in the hope that some poor desperate soul might want to part with HKD 1280 right now. The irony is striking. Two days ago, I was that desperate soul in search of a single spare ticket. Now I’m a different desperate soul trying to recoup the expense of that ticket.

A Brit looks interested but he buys from a young Hongkonger who has a spare HKD 300 ticket. At any rate, he does not have the cash, only plastic. A PRC sniffs around, complains its too expensive, and then says he’ll try and get a complimentary ticket from the sponsors HSBC. “Good luck to you, and sod off!” I thought. Just as I was about to be resigned to having the singular most expensive ticket (HKD 2360) in the house, a Frenchman pops up to the counter and inquires. I step forward and “voila!” a swap is effected, your money for my ticket. And he does not attempt to bargain me down. He didn't appear that desperate either. Didn't I say that all Frenchman were classy?

O mia Cecilia! Whatever you have heard on disc or seen on TV, Cecilia Bartoli is exactly that plus some more. Larger than life and donning a stunning red gown, she looks every bit the diva, artist and entertainer all rolled up in one. The programme was straight forward – Italian and French songs accompanied by Sergio Ciomei’s piano. No opera, just art songs from the pens of Rossini, Bellini and Donizetti. Love lost and found, flora and fauna, and the pleasures of a simple peasant life, were all encompassed in these numbers. Bartoli sounded fresh and each song sparkled with life. Her vividness of articulation, which ranged from the most quiet and intimate of moments to full-blooded roars, was just as impressive.

From bel canto to can belto, Bartoli has the full measure of every number. From Donizetti’s tender Amore e morte (Love and death), which certainly must have influenced the most melancholy of Chopin’s Nocturnes, to the presti-ululation of Rossini’s tarantella La Danza, equal satisfaction was to be had. She was equally at home in French, with songs by Rossini, Bizet and Viardot. There was an insectoid song, Bizet’s La coccinelle (The Ladybird), where her buzzing nasal imitations brought out guffaws from an otherwise staid and respectful audience. Closing with Maria Malibran’s drummer-boy inspired Rataplan, she brought the house down. Three encores, by de Curtis, Montsalvatge and Handel’s Laschio la spina, were the icing on the cake.

Will Cecilia Bartoli ever come to Singapore? We’ll have to persuade the powers that be that a proven act such as this is worth presenting, alongside all those new collaborations which are hit or miss at best. While Singapore waits, HKD 1280 was more than well spent.

In Hong Kong, the sky's the limit.

SSO Concert: Notes from America / Review

NOTES FROM AMERICA
Singapore Symphony Orchestra
Esplanade Concert Hall
Friday (18 February 2011)

This review was published in The Straits Times

on 21 February 2011 with the title

Old favourites, fresh sound.

Ever since the Singapore Symphony Orchestra did away with its enormously popular Familiar Favourites Concerts series, listeners had to figure for themselves which concerts they should attend to be reacquainted with well-loved melodies. This evening’s fare, bringing together Mozart and Dvorak, would have qualified to be a FF, to borrow a common parlance among SSO musicians.

There are few symphonies more familiar than Antonin Dvorak’s Ninth Symphony, often nicknamed the “New World” because he had written it in America. Under the direction of Yu Long, China’s pre-eminent conductor, the orchestra resisted the temptation to engage auto-pilot.

Knowing how difficult it is to make some hoary old chestnut sound afresh, the orchestra did a fine job. There was mystery aplenty in its quiet opening for low strings, and when the horns emerged for the energetic main theme, the effect was an impressive one. There were many students – likely newcomers - in the hall, and they responded with silence during the music and applauding in between movements.

That was easy to forgive, given the vociferous applause and standing ovation accorded at the work’s end. How they and the regulars must have appreciated Elaine Yeo’s wonderful cor anglais solo in the Largo, or Jin Ta’s mellifluous flute throughout, and Han Chang Chou’s commanding French horn. Conductor Yu, on his part, helmed an unfussy reading that was both rich in detail and intensity.

The first half’s Mozart was equally memorable. The Marriage of Figaro Overture buzzed with comic relief with the strings leading the way. The darkly shaded tutti of Piano Concerto No.24 (K.491), one of two minor key concertos of Mozart, soon gave way to the sunshine and clarity of Argentine Nelson Goerner’s immaculate pianism.

Doesn't Nelson Goerner look like

the great Shura Cherkassky?

Bald and diminutive in stature, he resembled from certain angles a young Shura Cherkassky. And like the late-lamented master, he made every phrase his own, singing and articulating crisply in a way that is hard to resist. His choice of cadenzas, contrapuntally interesting and romantically conceived by the Russian Nikita Magaloff (I later learnt from Goerner himself), was an unusually inspired one.

The slow movement was pure bliss itself, while the finale’s theme and variations brought out some bare-knuckled barnstorming, dramatic yet never overstated. For his many curtain calls, the audience was rewarded with two contrasting encores by Chopin (Étude Op.10 No.5, "Black Key") and Schubert (slow movement from Sonata in A major, Op.120). Just about perfect.

This is what a standing ovation looks like.

CD Reviews (The Straits Times, February 2011)

SCHUMANN Davidsbundlertänze, Op.6
Fantasie in C major, Op.17
MITSUKO UCHIDA, Piano
Decca 478 2280 (2CDs)

****1/2

The young Robert Schumann was a man deeply in love. The object of his passion was the teenaged piano prodigy Clara Wieck some 9 years his junior. The emotions he lavished on his piano music may be experienced in these vastly different major works. Davidsbundlertänze (Dances Of The Band Of David) comprises 18 varied short pieces, strung together like an exquisite pearl necklace. Mitsuko Uchida imbues these with much care and detail, reliving the Florestan (passionate and impetuous) and Eusebius (introverted and retiring) impulses that inspired their creation.

The Fantasie in C major is an undisputed masterpiece, inspired by Beethoven and dedicated to Liszt. Schumann’s muse was none other than Clara, and the music encompasses tenderness and turbulence to equal degree. The slow movement to close provides a sublime resolution. Uchida takes on its thorny challenges with great fervour and stunning aplomb. On a second disc that plays for only 30 minutes, Uchida speaks very animatedly in an interview about Schumann and his influences. However interesting this may be, the extra outlay in this “Prestige Edition” is barely justified.

BARTOK & ROZSA Viola Concertos
LAWRENCE POWER, Viola
Bergen Philharmonic / Andrew Litton
Hyperion 67687

****1/2

This disc of 20th century Hungarian viola concertos looks to past traditions rather than pointing forward. Bela Bartok’s Viola Concerto, incomplete at the time of his death in 1945, is already well established. Then exiled in America, his blend of deep contemplation and nostalgia, full of dark foreboding, is perfect for the viola’s dusky voice. It is not as overtly nationalistic compared with the 1980s Viola Concerto of compatriot Miklos Rozsa, better known as the Oscar-winning Hollywood composer of scores such as Ben Hur, Quo Vadis? and Spellbound. This 32-minute work in four movements is redolent of Magyar folk inspirations as well as Rozsa’s patented “biblical” idiom of his film music.

Tibor Serly, who was tasked with completing Bartok’s concerto, has a short Rhapsody for viola and orchestra of his own. Its succession of Hungarian folk melodies and dances is pure Bartokiana, very rustic and attractive. British violist Lawrence Power is a most persuasive advocate, and these performances with excellent Norwegian forces leave little to be desired.

CHAN YOONG HAN on Beethoven's Violin Music / A Short Interview

Here's one concert you don't want to miss:

RENAUD CAPUÇON GALA
BEETHOVEN Violin Concerto
with the Singapore Symphony Orchestra
conducted by Lan Shui
26 February 2011, 7.30 pm
Esplanade Concert Hall
Tickets available at SISTIC

The renowned French violinist RENAUD CAPUÇON performs Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major (Op.61) with the Singapore Symphony Orchestra and follows with three evenings of Beethoven’s ten violin sonatas (27 February – 1 March, 8 pm) with pianist Frank Braley at the Yong Siew Toh Conservatory (Tickets available at SISTIC). Although Beethoven was mostly a keyboardist, what was it that distinguished his music for the violin? SSO first violinist CHAN YOONG HAN (left) muses on the great German’s legacy for the strings.

Beethoven was neither a violinist, nor is his only violin concerto the most outwardly virtuosic work in the repertoire, yet many regard it as the pinnacle of the genre. Why do you think that is so?

The truth was this: its first performance did not receive favourable reviews. It was not until years later, after a performance by Joseph Joachim, that it became popular. This was perhaps due to the fact that this concerto was the first to be regarded as a symphonic work in which the solo violin was merely a line in the overall orchestral texture. One could forget its monumental length (about 45 minutes) while sitting through a performance of it due to its sheer beauty and perfect structure. As a violinist, performing this work is likened to recreating a perfect image and voice of an angel. You are always trying very hard not to spoil it!

Beethoven’s music is known for its masculine attributes, its vitality and muscularity, yet he can also sound retiring, lyrical and sublime. The slow movement, in particular, has these qualities. What do you think he was trying to convey?

Many of us choose to associate Beethoven for his heroic and victorious music. However, one of his most important musical contributions, which gave many musicologists the reason to regard him as a Romantic composer, was his unyielding search for a reason to live through his art. I relate to Beethoven more as an introspective musician in search of universal truth, beauty, love, hope and joy, within a life that was frustrated by deafness and social awkwardness. I think this movement was a reflection of his yearning for love and contentment.

The finales of Beethoven’s concertos were invariably Rondos, or round dances, often far more light-hearted than what comes before. Was he quite a jolly personality under an austere and irascible cloak?

Absolutely! And not to forget, very often mischievous! He was also merely adhering to a style that was common practice in the Classical concerto form by using a country dance, or folk dance from an "exotic" region, to make the finale more accessible to the general audience.


Beethoven’s violin sonatas were published as “sonatas for piano with violin accompaniment”. Does this necessarily diminish the role of the violin?

If you observe the score, the sharing of thematic, accompaniment and important motivic ideas is ubiquitous between both violin and piano parts. Very often, Beethoven would even repeat a theme twice in order to allow for each instrument to play it. However, due to the nature of the keyboard instrument, the piano part contains much of the harmonic foundation which holds the key to the soul of the music.

Of the 10 sonatas, which do you feel closest to and why?

It is very hard to choose a favourite because every sonata has a unique story. The Spring (Op.24) and Kreutzer (Op.47) Sonatas used to be favourites during my teens; Kreutzer for its virtuosic "concerto" writing and Spring for its beautiful melodies. In the past decade, I started to discover the dramatic and autobiographical content of his other sonatas such as the A minor (Op. 23) and C minor (Op. 30 No.2). I feel one could learn so much about Beethoven's psyché from these sonatas. His manipulation of forms, structures and expectations was a reflection of his social and psychological existence. Having said that, the G major (Op.96, left) will always feel closest to me. Like the violin concerto, it is just so sublime and beautiful throughout.

Chan Yoong Han was interviewed by PianoManiac.