DANCE WITH THE FOUR
T’ang Quartet, Ning An & Albert Tiu
Conservatory Concert Hall
Tuesday (29 October 2024)
This review was published in The Straits Times on 31 October 2024 with the title
The T’ang Quartet as we knew it in 1992, its inaugural year, does not quite exist any more. An ensemble-in-residence at the Yong Siew Toh Conservatory, its remaining founding members violinists Ng Yu Ying and Ang Chek Meng now perform concerts with guest musicians. A former student, Korean cellist Cho Hang-oh, joined it for this concert as did fellow faculty member violist Zhang Manchin for a performance of Dmitri Shostakovich’s Piano Quintet in G minor (Op.57).
Arguably the most performed 20th century piano quintet, it had inspirations from the Baroque, notably Johann Sebastian Bach. Pianist Ning An’s big opening chords on the newly-gifted Fazioli grand was a statement of intent in the Prelude, from which a probing exposition sprouted and grew. The very tight ensemble continued into the lengthy Fugue, where individual voices and contrapuntal lines stood out with illuminating clarity.
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Photo: Faezah Zulkifli |
With formality out of the way, the group let down its collective hair for the madcap Scherzo, its biting irony and vitriolic humour in tandem with a swinging beat. Sparks flew for a short but scintillating course, its irreverent tone giving way to the Intermezzo’s walking-paced passacaglia, yet another Baroque form.
Seriousness would be called to question with the Finale’s levity and faux-cheeriness soon taking over. One might be puzzled by the volte-face, but the players’ determination in keeping tongues lodged in cheeks held firm, through a manic march to its ambiguous close. The Soviet regime was flummoxed, even awarding Shostakovich the coveted Stalin Prize in 1941.
After the interval, the T’angs were joined by conservatory student violist Huang Yi and pianist Albert Tiu for a second half of tangos by Argentine composer / bandoneon player Astor Piazzolla. One might inquire what on earth Shostakovich and Piazzolla had in common.
The answer would be found by just listening: a shared love of Bach.
Fuga y Mysterio, which began an enjoyable run of half a dozen tangos, was built upon a fugue. Tiu, who crafted these nifty transcriptions, opened with a highly syncopated piano subject, with string voices joining in sequence. Percussive beats were provided by striking of wood (on cello and piano) and short-and-sharp bowing near the bridge. Old J.S. would have been proud of the mastery of counterpoint involved.
With Soledad (Solitude), Piazzolla had one of his most achingly beautiful slow movements. And how Ng’s violin sang, followed by Huang’s warm and duskily burnished tone on viola. In Concierto Para Quinteto, a progression of descending notes formed the bass over which all instruments took their turns, essentially a passacaglia in disguise. Where did we hear that before?
In Oblivion, another classic slow movement, solo viola and Cho’s cello came to the fore, poignantly so. La Muerte del Angel (The Death of Angel) was another busy fugue, infectious in its frenetic rhythm and the concert closed with Le Grand Tango, originally written for cello and piano. Here the parts were equally shared by all five players, who clearly enjoyed driving to its intoxicating and rapturous close.