CANVAS OF NATURE / Asian Contemporary Ensemble / Review

CANVAS OF NATURE

Asian Contemporary Ensemble

Esplanade Recital Studio

Wednesday (27 February 2013)

This review was published in The Straits Times on 1 March 2013 with the title "Riotous soprano a force of Nature".

The New Music Ensemble of our local conservatory has spawned a child of its own: the Asian Contemporary Ensemble (ACE), led by young conductor and Yong Siew Toh graduate Wong Kah Chun. Taking a leaf from its parent ensemble, it gave a most invigorating and uncompromisingly dissonant concert under the banner of Esplanade’s adventurous Spectrum contemporary music series.

A large body of students and fair number of cognoscenti first heard Chong Kee Yong’s Mourning the Murder of an Old Banyan Tree (2002), conducted by the Malaysian composer himself (above). Inspired by a poem of the same title by Usman Awang, and scored for piano, violin, cello, clarinet, flute and percussion, it pursued an angry and grimly aggressive course.

The tolling of a temple gong marked the death knell of a centuries-old and beloved institution, an indictment of relentless urban progress. The procession of the flautist and clarinettist offstage at the end was also symbolic of the spirits of nature leaving and silenced, never to return.

Japanese composer Toru Takemitsu’s rather well-known A Way A Lone (1981) was serene by comparison. Its palpable melancholy was keenly brought out by the string quartet led by violinist Shaun Ho (above). Although atonal in most part, the spare post-impressionist scoring with tiny wisps of melody had a quality of being unusually luxuriant and sonorous.

All the above would still not have prepared the audience for the shuddering impact of Arnold Schoenberg’s Pierrot Lunaire (Moonstruck Pierrot), the seminal 20^th century masterpiece composed 101 years ago. Originally conceived for the cabaret, it makes use of the vocal technique known as Sprechstimme or Sprechgesang, where the performer hovers in limbo between singing and speaking.

Stealing the show was soprano Khor Ai Ming, sporting facial paint, a wild hairdo and attired in commedia dell’arte finery. In the 21 short movements sung in German, she lived and acted out its riotous range of emotions and moods. Whether punch-drunk or suspended in a semi-trance, it was difficult to tell, mostly because of the absence of texts or translations which would have greatly helped the listener traverse its numerous thorny brambles.

So one would have to rely on her vocal cues and facial improvisations to imagine what was going on. Listening to a recording will easily test one’s patience, and several members of the audience did walk out mid-way, but it was Khor’s stunning one-woman wrecking crew which kept everyone else transfixed.

Khor Ai Ming appearing truly moonstruck at the end of the work.

The six instrumentalists led by conductor Wong were close to excellent, transparent and incisive in their razor-keen responses. Not to mention pianist Bertrand Tan, flautist Cheryl Lim, clarinettist Tan Boon Ping, violinist Clarissa Ng, violist He Ziping or cellist James Ng’s contributions would be remiss. All of them, and Khor singing only her second Pierrot, deserve to be part of local musical history.  

       
Note: Khor Ai Ming and The Magnetic Band gave the Singapore premiere of Schoenberg's Pierrot Lunaire several years ago in the same venue.

A Bridge of Silk: Asian A Cappella / The Philharmonic Chamber Choir / Review

A BRIDGE OF SILK: ASIAN A CAPPELLA
The Philharmonic Chamber Choir

Lim Yau, Conductor
Esplanade Recital Studio
Saturday (18 September 2010)

This review was published in The Straits Times on 20 September 2010.

When The Philharmonic Chamber Choir (TPCC) was formed in the mid-1990s, one of its missions was to explore the virgin world of Asian a cappella music. Every Asian culture has its own unique choral heritage, but for a Singaporean group with little local tradition to speak of, it was a novel direction to take.

And what a harvest it has reaped to judge by the quality this 35-member group has achieved. Much effort had been taken to research each work, including employing eight native coaches for seven spoken languages and dialects, from Balinese to Mongolian. The high quality of annotations and translations also spelt of this conviction.

It was the music that ultimately impressed. As expected, some pieces played on onomatopoeic sound effects, beginning with the traditional Balinese Janger, where the singers simulated gamelan orchestras and the Vietnamese folksong Hat Cheo Thuyen, replicating the sound of oars rowing a boat.

There were laughs aplenty for the Taiwanese (specifically Yilan) folksong Diu Diu Dang Ah, where railway noises and repetition of the Minnanese word for train “Huay Chia” jostled for attention. A lot of it sounded like Hokkien, and conductor Lim Yau went on to personally congratulate his handful of Ang Mohs (Westerners) in the choir for taking the trouble.

On a more lyrical side, Filipino Nitoy Gonzales’ love-song Usahay (Sometimes) luxuriated in lovely sentimental harmonies. The only song in English was from Singapore (where else?), with Bernard Tan’s setting of Lee Tzu Pheng’s Dreamescape II a euphonious nod to the English choral tradition.

There were three very different songs by the Japanese icon Toru Takemitsu (left). An arrangement of the familiar favourite Sakura dressed in unusual harmonies contrasted with the more commercial pop idiom of A Song of Circles and Triangles, but it was the contemplative All That The Man Left Behind When He Died that had the poignancy to move one to tears.

Two songs from the Korean Geonyong Lee completed a kaleidoscopic picture of the choir’s abilities. The four varied Songs Without Words exhibited a strong technical facility and Memilmuk Saryeo (Buckwheat Jelly for Sale) incorporating hawkers’ calls and percussion instruments closed with a lonesome tofu-seller’s chant from the wonderfully evocative bass Nicholas Loh.

Do not miss this class act’s next concert, whatever it may be singing.