THE MAGNIFICENT CELLO / Qin Li-Wei and Bernard Lanskey / Review

THE MAGNIFICENT CELLO

QIN LI-WEI, Cello

BERNARD LANSKEY, Piano

National Museum of Singapore

Tuesday (17 September 2013)

This review was published in The Straits Times on 19 September 2013 with the title "History of cello through music".

For the penultimate concert in the Music at an Exhibition series at the National Museum, the  cello took centrestage in a delightful hour of music that traced the instrument’s development during the 18^th century. Some eighty years spanned the works performed by Chinese-Australian cellist Qin Li-Wei on his trusty 1780 Joseph Guadagnini cello. 

Some purists prefer J.S.Bach’s Cello Suites to be heard on a baroque cello or the viola da gamba, but this music transcends eras and time. The opening Prelude of Suite No.1 in G major is possibly the most familiar of Bach’s music for the instrument, but here it sounded as if freshly minted. The full throated baritone voice coaxed by Qin was both soothing and arresting, and like a master story-teller spinning a yarn. He made you want to care.

The following movements were varied period dances, taken at a faster clip in the Courante and Minuets. The Sarabande, with its widely-spread chords and deeply-breathed air, gently held one captive. It was the bounding rhythm of the Gigue that allowed some relaxation in attention.

Qin was joined by Australian pianist Bernard Lanskey, also Head of the Conservatory, in Luigi Boccherini’s Cello Sonata No.6 in A major. By now, baroque convention had given way to the sleeker and less contrapuntal lines of the classical tradition. The prayer-like slow opening movement offered the display of an exquisite singing tone, while the ensuing Allegro was martial in character but one which smiled from ear to ear.

Beethoven was made of sterner stuff, and in his Cello Sonata No.2 in G minor (Op.5 No.2), the piano had graduated to become an equal partner with the cello. Lanskey spoke about the metamorphosis of the genre, with reference to the paintings on the Metamorphoses of Ovid from the Liechtenstein royal collection. The epic canvasses he alluded to also applied to the sonata.

Its first movement was in effect a slow and serious introduction, opening with a grim G minor chord and one filled with pathos. The early Romantic movement, which Beethoven was part of, meant that passion was often worn heart-on-sleeve. True feelings lurked below its calm exterior, and this erupted in the fast second movement, when pent-up emotion found a joyous release. The contrasts and transition provided by the duo was startling in its immediacy.

The finale’s Rondo was even more cheerful, with the piano taking the fore. Its passages of running notes could have been more cleanly dealt with but the comedic timing with the cello was always first priority. With the ice thawed and melted, Beethoven could always be relied upon to turn up the heat of excitement, and this spiritedly closed the concert proper. The encore was also much loved by the appreciative audience, an effective transcription of Bach’s sublime Air in G major.    

THE PRINCELY PIANO / LIM YAN Piano Recital / Review

 THE PRINCELY PIANO

LIM YAN Piano Recital

National Museum of Singapore

Friday (6 September)

This review was published in The Straits Times on 9 September 2013 with the title "Royal accession of the piano".

It has been a long while, in fact several years, that Young Artist Award winner Lim Yan has given a solo piano recital. The Music At An Exhibition concert series held alongside the Princely Treasures of Liechtenstein display at the National Museum was the perfect setting for his delightful 80-minute-long recital of mostly baroque keyboard music.

Using a Steinway grand piano instead of a harpsichord had its advantages. The music projects better in the dry acoustic of an exhibition hall, and a wider range of dynamics and nuances is afforded. Authenticity is perhaps not top of the list of priorities here, but the works performed had a nice symmetry about them.

A pair of Domenico Scarlatti Sonatas, composed as exercises for a Spanish princess, were tasty starters. Both were fast pieces, with a sparkling lightness that showcased fluency and impeccable staccato technique. Vigorous dances to strumming guitars and clicking castanets come to mind.

This was followed by two popular sets of variations. Handel’s The Harmonious Blacksmith, the final movement of one of his keyboard suites, was lightly ornamented, and with each variation grew in complexity before closing in a cascade of scales. Somewhat simpler was Mozart’s Variations of Ah, vous dirai-je, maman, also known as Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.

The familiar children’s tune was stated with an insouciant air, and every effort was made by Lim to colour the complexion of each variation that ensued. There was innocence, fluidity, pathos (with a switch to the minor key), reflection, under-stated virtuosity and finally bombast to close.

Lim’s approach to Johann Sebastian Bach, a composer he is not usually associated with, was revelatory. The two Prelude & Fugues he chose were deliberately contrasted. The D major (from Book Two of The Well-Tempered Clavier) was celebratory, with trumpeting fanfares and ceremonial pomp. The C sharp minor (Book One) was one deep in thought and contemplation, so profound was its utterance that the startling dissonance of its fugue seemed a mere sideshow.

The recital was completed with Bach’s Fifth Partita in G major. One of his most cheerful suites, Lim brought a wealth of character and colour to its sequence of antique dances. The dotted rhythm of the Sarabande was taken at a slightly fast clip, but the quaint darting fingers of the Tempo Di Minuetta was the usually-serious composer having some fun in expense of the unsuspecting. The fugal Gigue that ended the work was a culmination of counterpoint at its most joyous.

As an encore, Lim offered a third fast Scarlatti sonata, this time bringing on the full force and volume of an orchestra and marching band. The princely piano had ascended the throne to become a king. 

  

PRUSSIAN WINDS / Music At An Exhibition / Review

PRUSSIAN WINDS

Music at an Exhibition

National Museum of Singapore

Tuesday (27 August 2013)

This review was published in The Straits Times on 29 August 2013 with the title "Music like fresh summer's breeze".

There is a painting by Adolph Menzel called The Flute Concert of Frederick the Great that describes the perfect setting for a concert such as this. It depicts the Prussian monarch standing and playing the flute, surrounded by adoring subjects and musicians in the glow of candle-lit chandeliers in his Potsdam palace of Sanssouci. This was the mid-18^th century, the “Age of Enlightenment” when a warrior king could also be a Renaissance man, composer, consummate artist and patron of the humanities.

Among his entourage counted Johann Joachim Quantz, his flute master, and Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach, his harpsichordist, who both assumed highly salaried positions in his court despite being humble servants. This concert was an imaginative recreation of such a soiree, with paintings from the Royal Collection of Liechtenstein as the opulent backdrop.

Baroque music, which does not get enough of an airing here, was served with an intimacy and immediacy that had its audience enraptured. Flautist Roberto Alvarez and oboist Audi Goh were the contrasted woodwind players, supported by the basso continuo of cellist Leslie Tan and harpsichordist Yang Tien. There were six sonatas in total, each short enough to make up an hour’s worth of royal entertainment.

All the sonatas comprised four movements each, in the slow-fast-slow-fast form known as the sonata di chiesa or “church sonata”. Incidentally, five were set in the minor keys, but the mood was anything but sombre. Quantz’s (left) Trio Sonata in A minor opened the evening, and the flute’s mellow timbre stood out from the oboe’s more piercing and piquant quality. These were the two voices which traded melody and counterpoint through much of the music.

Also interesting to note was the cellist performing in the manner of the baroque, using softer gut strings and cradling the instrument with his thighs, rather than resting on its spike. His sound, eschewing the usual vibrato, was lovingly complimented by the subtly plucked strings of the harpsichord.

Although the accusation that much baroque music sounded alike is noted, there was much to enjoy in the individualities of each work. Handel’s Flute Sonata in E minor had a most virtuosic solo part, echoing the florid runs in his flashy operatic arias. Telemann’s Trio Sonata in D minor saw flute and oboe in comic chattering repartee, and its finale had an earthy country dance with bagpipe-like drones from the cello as a short interlude.

The Flemish composer Jean-Baptiste Loeillet was the interloper in this company, having died long before Frederick rose to the throne. His very short Trio Sonata in E minor was distinguished by an aria-like opening Largo and a jig-like finale. CPE Bach’s (right) Oboe Sonata in G minor concluded with a delightful theme and variations.

The concert closed with Quantz’s Trio Sonata in D major. A cheerful work with a sunny, pastoral feel, it ended in a bounding Tempo Di Menuet with an enjoyable lilt and kick in its step. Seldom has an hour of music, delectably performed, passed like a fresh summer’s breeze.