Nimble Tread

Schumann Special

I tend to shy away from theme evenings, but after the Wigmore's Schumann Celebration: An evening of words and music, I'm thinking of amending my policy.
The evening was kept vivid and apace by Simon Callow who, aside from having acted on stage and screen and written several books, is also alleged to be an ardent music lover.  His presentation of the Schumann's latter days was given in a fairly straight manner and segued nicely into the music, which itself was relayed in fine style.  Pianist Dénes Várjon was charged with the heaviest load, performing alone right out of the gates with Brahms' Scherzo in Eb minor Op. 4, and then joining forces with Steven Isserlis, Jennifer Frautschi, Rachel Roberts, and Cora Burggraaf for a further selection of music by Brahms and both Robert and Clara Schumann.
One of the chief attributes of these sorts of concerts is the text's ability to create an historical atmosphere to surround the music.  When the story being told is as moving as the Schumanns', the pieces played are charged with a certain amount of gravitas before a single note has sounded, thereby allowing the musicians a unique flexibility in their interpretation.  As the more obvious features will be readily assimilated by the audience, the performers can coax some of the music's more subtle elements closer to the surface and in doing so create a slightly new texture within familiar pieces.  That was certainly the case with Brahms' Piano Quartet No. 3 in C minor Op. 60, which the ensemble played terrifically, with special mention going to Frautschi who is a strong and graceful violinist, and one I suspect we'll be seeing a lot of in coming years. 
I particularly enjoyed Robert Schumann's Geister Variations, which Várjon played wonderfully, and the same composer's incomplete early 1850s effort at chorale writing, which would make a very sweet violin transcription if someone were to tack on a suitable ending. 
I'm not sure how often the Wigmore does these sorts of events, just as I'm unsure as to whether or not they remain kitsch-free, as this one did.  The Schumann's make great fodder for lecture recitals, but they're hardly alone in that regard.  Perhaps an evening with Janacek the next time 'round.

Reception Study

I've been affected by Tasmin Little and Joshua Bell's experiences.  Hardly four hours had passed after I'd finished reading about Little's outing when I came upon a violinist playing at the book market across from the National Film Theatre.  He was drawing near to the end of the Chaconne -- clearly the pièce-de-rigeur in busking circles -- and was playing to one active listener and a hundred-or-so gabbers at the tables outside the theatre.  The din was considerable, and not helped any by the fact that it was concentrated and echoed by the brick vaulting overhead.  There was no question of my stopping, but as I got close enough to hear clearly I considered how easy it would be to just walk past.  I think Jessica had it right in mentioning the embarrassment factor.  I had to get within ten feet to have a good listen -- close enough where eye contact was unavoidable -- and once there stood no chance of getting away without some form of acknowledgment on my part.  I was happy to give a slightly sheepish clap and drop a couple of pounds into his case, but I could understand how most people, particularly non-violinists, might not relish finding themselves in that position.

  I talked to the busker for a couple of minutes after he'd wrapped up the Chaconne and asked him if he'd heard about Little and Bell's exploits.  He said he hadn't, but mentioned that Little had given a masterclass at his music college a couple of days before.  I filled him in on the main details, and after sneaking a peek into his case mentioned that he'd already done better than Tasmin.  This seemed to make him happy, and also reminded him that he was there for a reason.  He politely excused himself and got back to Bach, which suited both of us just fine.

  On a related note, the leader of the London Mozart Players, David Juritz, is planning to busk his way around the world for four-and-a-half months to raise money for Musequality, a charity that seeks to fund music programs in low-income areas.  He's planning to start in June, so be on the lookout for someone  who looks like this playing Bach under a lamppost.  There's more information on Musequality here, and you can help sponsor his trip here.

 

Give us a copper...

Following the hubbub surrounding Joshua Bell's efforts in the Washington metro, Tasmin Little recently sallied-forth to test out the busking experiment on London's South Bank.  I won't spoil the story for you, particularly as Jessica Duchen has written a thoughtful piece about it for the Independent, but suffice to say Little made it nearly half way towards a new set of strings.  J. Bell can rest at ease.

Docket

Marc-Andre Hamelin will be playing Stravinsky's Concerto for piano and wind instruments with the London Phil at the Queen Elizabeth Hall this Friday, and I for one will be there to hear him do it.  The Orchestra is rounding out the programme with Schoenberg's Verklarte Nacht and Beethoven's Fourth, which should make for quite the night.  On a completely different note, I thought it might be nice to animate today's post with some musical cartoons, the first of which comes from Soho the Dog and puts Strauss and Mahler to work at the cinematic reënactment game; number two is courtesy of Rolando Villazon, who's nearly as expressive with a pen in his hand as he is with a song on his lips.  And what list, however short, would be complete without a contribution from the master himself, Gerard Hoffnung.

Ce Soir

The Fibonacci Sequence will be at the Wigmore tonight playing a selection of Fauré, Chausson, Mozart, and, most interestingly, Adela Maddison, who was a pupil and possible paramour of Fauré's, and premiered her piano quintet at the Wigmore 87 years ago.  The ensemble takes its name from Leonardo di Pisa and his eponymous numerical sequence, an animated explanation of which can be found here.  Should you require a more thorough discussion, have a look at this.

Kurt

Sad news today from New York, where Kurt Vonnegut has died at 84.  I always enjoyed his writing, and had a particular fondness for his short stories, many of the best of which were printed in Welcome to the Monkey House, a book that's been on my shelves in numerous residences.  My favourite Vonnegut story, however, is written about him rather than by him, and is included in George Plimptons piece It's a Bird! It's a Plane! It's a Whiskey Submarine.  The two writers were neighbours in Sagaponack, Long Island, and used to chit-chat about domestic concerns on the way to the general store for the morning paper.  Plimpton describes a conversations as follows:
One day he told me that mourning doves were up on his roof, cocking their heads and looking at him in his bath through the bathroom-ceiling skylight.  He had designed the skylight himself and sometimes, under the piercing scrutiny of the birds, cooing and shifting about with their claws scratching on the glass to get a better view, he wishes he hadn't.  He said to me one morning, "I have a toad," and I knew he was not talking about a toad in his swimming pool, or in the garden, or anything, but that he had one splay-footed on the skylight glass, looking in along with the morning doves.

Another domestic problem we discuss is the plague of radio-controlled model airplanes overhead on weekends.  A model-airplane club has the use of a small grass strip on Foster's farm just down the road.  Sometimes three or four of them are in the air at the same time -- the whine of their tiny engines incessant and infuriating.  Some of the models are very fancy -- biplanes, imitation Fokkers -- and they do clever maneuvers: loops, stalls, Immelmanns.  Sometimes one will do lazy, everlasting circles as if the owner, sitting on the grass down the road, with the control box in his lap, is so entranced by the thought of the artificial extension of his own being in the sky that he doesn't do anything too risky for fear of tumbling his plane into the potato fields.

So Kurt and I, on our stroll to the general store, discuss what we can do about this.  Vonnegut's fanciful solution is to have a submarine rise from the bottom of his swimming pool to fire off a salvo of heat-seeking surface-to-air missiles.  Above, a perky model plane, its wings glistening in the sunlight, would suddenly disintegrate in a puff of fine powder like a shattered clay pigeon.  At this point the submarine would blow its tanks to submerge and sink silently down to rest next to the drainpipe.

Vonnegut was a man of boundless creativity who, along with his stories and sensibility, will be sorely missed.

Bell's-a-buskin'

A few people have sent me this link to a Washington Post article that tells the story of Joshua Bell's foray into Metro music making.  According to the report, the violinist spent forty-five minutes playing a selection of Bach and Schubert, saw over a thousand people pass him by, and made a little over 32 bucks, which I find surprising, though I suspect the low figure has more to do with the time of day, 7:45 am, than the level of play or crowd appreciation.  This discussion thread on Violinist.com indicates that a fiddler can do pretty well playing just about anything if he chooses the right time and place.  Maybe Andrew Manze -- or better yet for incognito reasons, Rachel Podger -- could replicate the experiment in the Tube.  I think they'd come away with a pretty good haul.

On the Tideway

After two years of defeat, Cambridge has finally reversed its fortunes and taken the 2007 Boat Race in decisive fashion.  Even the alternate crew asserted itself and rowed Goldie to a two-length victory over Oxford's Isis.  I didn't have very much personal interest in who won, which made jumping on the Cambridge bandwagon a fairly easy task, and I felt morally sound cheering for the winners and having a pint with a few of that institutions alumni at The Duke's Head after the race. 

I don't get to spend much time on the section of the Thames between Hammersmith and Chiswick, and always find myself surprised by how delightful it is there.  I took a walk along the Thames Path one the crowd began to thin and kept going until I got to Kew Bridge, which looked thoughtful in the warm sun and seemed happy to have its feet in the river's cool water.  My favourite stretch in the area is the Strand-on-the-Green, and I passed a pleasant hour at the Bull's Head dangling my legs over the low stone tidal wall and watching the ducks and geese vacuum up whatever food the local nature lovers tossed into the water.  There was no talk of boat races this far from the sea, just as there were no traces of school colours or hibachi grills.  Conversation -- to the extent that it existed -- centred on life's colourful details and the great luck involved in having a sunny 23 degree day on April 7th.  Both very sound topics indeed.

Radio Note

Fans of Christian Tetzlaff and Alexander Lonquich will be happy to know that the three concerts they played last week will air on Radio 3 this Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday (11th, 12th, 13th) at 7:00 pm.  The duo performed all of Beethoven's Violin Sonatas and added a dash of Mozart to the proceedings in the form of his F major sonata, KV 374e.  These last pieces came as encores and might not show up in the broadcasts, but considering the level of play, I don't see how anyone can object.  Well, except Mozart, but goodness knows he had a big enough year in 2006.  The link to the concerts is here, and if you're only in the market for one performance, go for the one on the 13th.  Not only did Lonquich and Tetzlaff play the "Kreutzer" phenomenally, but their rendition of Sonata 10 in G Major Op. 96 ("The Cockcrow") was just a little bit of terrific.