Friday
(18 October 2013)
Cello
and Piano Recital by
GIOVANNI
SOLLIMA &
GIUSEPPE ANDALORO
On paper, this recital appeared like a
hodgepodge of seemingly unrelated pieces, from Elizabethan lutenist John
Dowland to living Ukrainian jazzman Nikolai Kapustin, with Beethoven, Webern
and a pair of Sicilians filling in between. The reality was a sizeable audience,
one larger than previous evenings, presenting themselves to witness one of the
most stunning displays of cellism, if there were such a word.
The Palermo-born Giovanni Sollima, like
Yo-Yo Ma, is a cellist who defies convention and tradition. Although
classically trained, he refuses to be pigeon-holed as a classical cellist.
Improviser, innovator, inventor and iconoclast seem like more appropriate
epithets. Informally attired, sporting eye-glasses and a five o’clock shadow,
one would sooner see him in a jazz club or smoky dive rather than a concert
hall. His collaborator pianist Giuseppe Andaloro, almost 20 years younger, would be his
more-than-able side-kick for the evening, partner rather than accompanist. The
first thing they did was to place music scores inside the Steinway grand in
preparation of their first piece, an unusual setting of John Dowland’s well-known
song Come Again.
Whoever thought this Elizabethan song could
be scored for cello and prepared piano? The piano took on an otherworldly
timbre, light metallic twangs interspersed with the gently flickering sound of felt-lined
hammers striking paper as Andaloro sensitively accompanied Sollima. The
cellist, for his part, skilfully improvised with each strophe and variation in
what must be an imagination of jazz in the 1590s. Very quirky but highly original.
The most conventional part of the
programme was Beethoven’s Cello Sonata
in A major (Op.69) and here the classical credentials of both performers in
traditional repertoire were on show. Sollima’s opening unaccompanied solo in
the 1st movement had a plaintive quality, and the tone on his 1697
Ruggeri cello was firm and robust. Andaloro’s contribution as an equal partner in
chords and running passages was alert and responsive, continuing into the
Scherzo with its tricky syncopations and abrupt rhythmic changes.
The duo then sneaked in Anton Webern’s Three Little Pieces (Op.11), very short atonal aphorisms, as a jarring contrast, just before the third and fourth movements of the Beethoven. Besides making one sit up and listen, it was their way of juxtaposing the two Viennese schools in a single sitting. I can’t say it worked wonders for me, but it certainly fooled the audience and hall technicians, who were still waiting for the Webern after the Beethoven (a very good performance, as a matter of fact) had concluded with an emphatic A major chord. The house lights did come on eventually to reveal some red faces.
I had first encountered the name of
Giovanni Sollima several years ago when cellist Qin Li-Wei performed his Alone for solo cello as a substantial
encore after a concerto performance with The Philharmonic Winds. I remembered
liking the piece very much; tonal, accessible and expressive in a brief but
profound way, and wondered what else he had written. As it is, there are two
musical Sollimas, Giovanni and his late father Eliodoro, composition professor
and sometime head of the Conservatory in Palermo. Both Sollima Jr. and Andaloro
were among his many students.
The Cello Sonata (1948) by Sollima Sr.(left), despite its date of composition, was a very listenable post-romantic work in three movements. The opening Lento recitativo and ensuing Allegro vivo were based on a motif of a descending fifth, and due to its monothematic nature, never let one forget its musings. This was followed by an elegiac slow movement, full of emotion displayed by Sollima, an Italian Yo-Yo Ma who himself is quite a sight to behold. He and his cello are one and the same spirit, and the sonorities he coaxes from it – full-bodied and deeply breathed - is quite unlike any other. A short but furious Perpetuum mobile closed the work on a brilliant high. Sollima Jr. appears to be a chip off the old block, as demonstrated in his Tema III for his film score Il bell’Antonio, another emotionally charge piece which began quietly and built to an ecstatic high.
The three pieces by Kapustin that closed
the concert played like three movement suite with the fast-slow-fast schema.
The Nearly Waltz (Op.98) charmed with
its insouciant lilt, while the Elegie (Op.96)
and Burlesque (Op.97) provided ample
opportunity to improvise, and here is the essence of jazz relived. Although the
score is provided, it is merely a blueprint for what is heard onstage. Sollima’s
rhapsody sounded so free, as if the piece were composed on the spot. Having heard
several versions of this movement on YouTube, none matched his spontaneity and
expressiveness. At one point, he inserts his bow in between the strings and
allows it to rock roughshod over the strings like some demented spiccato. One doubts whether this is
indicated in the score, so I guess this is something which Sollima invented de novo.
Rapturous applause meant he and Andaloro
had to offer an encore, and this was a movement from his Bestiary of Leonardo da Vinci, another enjoyable and energetic piece,
one inspired by waves. The concert was one journey of discovery, which will not
be forgotten for some time to come.
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