2009-2010 Season Reviews

Fujita Piano Trio
23 March 2010

The final concert of Skipton Music, given by the Fujita Piano Trio was a fitting climax of a most successful season. The Fujita Trio play without music and this alone marks them as different from standard ensembles. The trio is made up of three sisters and their splendid rapport is always evident.

They began with Beethoven's Archduke Trio - one of Beethoven's greatest, yet most approachable of works. There was an inherent femininity in the playing that gave the music an added elegance and distinctive character. Playing from memory and communicating by eye contact as well as sound, conveyed the intimacy that is one of the most desired constituents of chamber music, particularly when it is performed in the formal situation on a platform with the audience seated in regimented rows. There was no attempt to add orchestral dimensions to Beethoven’s masterpiece; it remained in the framework of the trio ensemble, without sacrificing the excitement and overall grandeur of the music.

The Piano Trio No. 2 Opus 121, written by Arthur Butterworth in 2004, was new to the Trio and for this work they played from music. Twenty-first century music can so often seem unconnected from the twenty-first century audiences. However Arthur Butterworth's style is so firmly rooted in good classical practice that it makes immediate contact with the listener. It is neither eclectic, gimmicky nor derivative, but has a maturity and style of its own that was obviously enjoyed by the players, who exploited the colours and freshness of the textures and tonalities. The Butterworth Trio formed the link between the Beethoven and Shostakovich's Trio No. 2, and it stood splendidly between these two giants in the chamber music repertoire.

Shostakovich's 2nd Trio is not an anodyne work. It is dedicated to the victims of the Holocaust and consequently the emotions of despair, outrage and grief are ever present. Astringent moments abound and the bitterness of loss permeates the structure. It is not easy to make such deep and desperate emotions beautiful, but the Fujita Trio achieved a haunting loveliness from the anguish and desolation.

There was no feeling of technical stress or lack of unanimity in any part of this programme. It was Chamber Music at its very best.

Adrienne Fox

Paul Lewis - Piano
23 February 2010

It is rare to find a pianist with such a complete control of technique coupled with such a superb sense of the drama of the Music. Paul Lewis began his recital with Mozart's Adagio in B minor (K540) and from the opening bars he demonstrated his mastery of touch and exquisite cantando. The Adagio was operatic in its concept, romantically created by discrete use of the sustaining pedal and rubato. The architecture of the music was never lost, and it was enriched by tone painting and poignant phrasing.

The Adagio was followed by Schumann's Fantasie in C (Op 17). This is a perplexing work which although it is a 'tour de force' for the pianist and full of emotion, it is marred by lapses of taste which tend to destroy the overall grandeur and purpose of the music. Paul Lewis's technique was faultless and his interpretation excellent, but even he was pushed to overcome the weaknesses of the thematic material and the structural failings. Nonetheless he created some sublime moments with his use of both pedals, and he exploited his instrument to the full. Paradoxically his superb grasp of the music laid it open to show its weaknesses rather more than its strengths. It was a case of the pianist being greater than the composer.

Vallee d'Obermann by Liszt gave Mr Lewis full reign to show his mastery of tone colour and mood changes. He painted the Lisztian picture perfectly with faultless technique and a mind-boggling palette of tone colour.

The beginning of the Waldstein Sonata by Beethoven was a revelation. Gone was the old-style thumping of the opening chords. Instead the music emerged from mysterious mists and the themes were developed from the texture, as opposed to being blatantly emphasised, - a technique which is so regularly employed by less thoughtful musicians. The adagio was masterly and it paved the way for an elegant final movement. This was one of the finest performances I have heard of the Waldstein.

Paul Lewis uses his formidable technique as a vehicle for interpretation which is scholarly, musical and dramatic. He is a fine musician who plays with integrity and conviction.

Adrienne Fox

Children's Concert
Souza Winds
23 February 2010

Skipton Music's annual concert for children saw 260 pupils from eight local primary schools treated to a musical extravaganza by Souza Winds at Skipton Town Hall on Tuesday afternoon, 23rd February.

This enthusiastic group of young professional musicians, comprising flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon and French horn, quickly gained the children’s attention, involving them in rhythmic and vocal activities while entertaining them with music including tunes from Mozart and Verdi operas, TV advert and theme tunes, The Pink Panther, Harry Potter and Mama Mia. In an inspired demonstration of some of the science of music a garden hose was unravelled to the length of a French horn tube and used to play the Coronation Street theme tune.

The children were eager to show off their knowledge when answering questions and a good time was had by all, well worth the efforts of Embsay and Carleton pupils walking in to town.

Skipton Music is grateful to the Rotary Club for its sponsorship to enable this concert to take place.

Andrew Wilson

Tonus Peregrinus
19 January 2010

A concert in a church consisting entirely of unaccompanied English choral music is some people's idea of heaven, for others it is hell with the sole amenity of a bagpipe drone.

Antony Pitts, director of the Tonus Peregrinus vocal octet, would appear to be aware of the pitfalls of planning his event and he has devised a programme which amalgamates music ranging from the 15th century with contemporary music, the latter mainly of his own composition.

The opening of the concert was rather confusing. The programme showed 2 separate items; the first by Mr Pitts and the second by the 16th Century composer John Sheppard. As there was a near imperceptible pause between them, we had to await Mr Pitts's explanation at the end of the second item to learn that this was his intention, and his method of welding the new with the old. He then embarked on an explanation of the forms and techniques used in the construction of the vocal music we were to hear.

Sadly where I was sitting, I only caught fragments such as, "false relation" and as I tried to listen, I noticed that some of my neighbours appeared to have switched to "stand by" with their eyes either glazed or closed. The question arises, "Do we have to understand the technicalities of Music in order to enjoy it?" This vocal ensemble is unlike any that I have heard before. Latterly it has been customary for an ensemble to be built on voices that had a like timbre, but Tonus differs radically in this aspect, particularly in the upper voices. One could almost hear the distinctive sounds of a woodwind section including a saxophone, whilst the four lower voices seemed to represent a string backing. From time to time, male solos emerged showing different colours, but the contrasts were less obvious.

The ensemble was always perfectly in tune and secure even when coping with some extremely tricky techniques and one was never concerned that there would be an offending squawk or a "domino entry" in a pregnant pause. They also had splendid rapport, so why then did Mr Pitts conduct? They were reading from scores and so the role of a prompter was not required and the tradition of small ensemble singing rarely requires vigorous direction. I felt that the presentation was marred by such constant energetic movement. Mr Pitts's compositions were all excellent. He displayed an ability to vary his style to suit the mood he wished to either set or follow and there were seamless joins between the items when necessary.

Does the programme format work?
I believe it does.
Do the mixed timbres work?
In general they do, but perhaps they become a little too "West End Stage" for the older music.
Was this a successful concert?
It was difficult to judge from the applause, which is so often an audience routine and it conflicted with some of the body language around me during the singing.

But the four "Hymnes and Songs of the Church" by Gibbons and Mr Pitts's music were truly memorable.

Adrienne Fox

London Concertante
8 December 2009

What is the listener to make of the string sextet as an art form? Whilst the string quartet has been familiar since early classical times, relatively few composers have sought to express themselves through the larger medium of the sextet; for in some ways its character almost takes on the nature of a small chamber orchestra, its texture more dense and complex than the ideal balance of a quartet The six players of the London Concertante provided an opportunity to hear three of the rarely played major works in the sextet canon. Richard Strauss's "Prelude to 'Capriccio'" is a work derived from the opera of the same name; rich and warmly satisfying in the composer's characteristic vein. This was an excellent opening to the evening's music-making In much the same manner as was the last piece in the recital, the "Souvenir de Florence" of Tschaikowsky, which is also said to have been something of an offshoot from the composer's interest in opera. This is a work of captivating, infectious tunes suggestive of the warm,sunny landscapes of Italy, and like the Strauss, was played with great verve and delight.

The centrepiece of the evening however, was quite different: " Verklärte Nacht" (Transfigured Night) of Schoenberg. At about the turn of the century (1890-1900) there had begun to flourish the psycho-philosophical movement in intellectual circles - especially in Vienna - where Freud, Jung, Adler and others first began to explore the unconscious; so that this "Pandora's Box" of sexual obsessions began to disturb general consciouness as never before. Creative artists - writers, poets, painters and not least composers - were caught up in this psychological self-searching, so that "expressionism" became something of a fashionable pose. The ever inward-looking Schoenberg, whose unattractive self portraits (for he was also a painter) depict a man of disturbinbg self-obsession and anxiety, was part of this growing cult. "Verklärte Nacht" is an early work in which such yearning anxieties seem to find expression. It is a work that either strongly appeals or just as strongly repels, depending on one's own tempermant. To those who find this in-ward-looking work repulsive, it is maudlin, vastly over-written, stifling and lacking in fresh air. This evening's performers obviously like playing this peculiar work, and surmounted its fussy technicalities with some panache, but at twenty-nine minutes its sheer self indulgence long outstays any trace of welcome it might otherwise attract.

An almost bizarre - and totally incongruous - encore was by the now fashionable composer, Piazzola. What was even more superfluous was the TV-like "commercial" slot offered by one of the cellists who, with his captive audience, told us how marvellous an offer it was to buy their CDs, and like any good supermarket offered us "three for the price of two" - not quite the thing for an audience of cultured listeners who only want to hear good music. Not a good concert this.

Arthur Butterworth

Emma Johnson, Natalie Clein & John Lenehan
3 November 2009

This instrumental combination requires careful attention to balance, which in a concert venue demands great skill. In a recording studio it is possible to adjust each note with an electronic twitch but on the concert platform the players are entirely responsible for every nuance. There are no re-takes and no breaks for coffee whilst someone "adjusts the set". The players must listen, concentrate and continually modify their playing to cope with the acoustics. This alone can be a problem, but when one adds the factors of technique, phrasing and the need to convey style and emotion to the audience, we begin to appreciate the gargantuan tasks that make up a concert entertainment.

The ensemble began with John Ireland's Trio for clarinet, cello and piano, - an early work that has been modified by both the composer and a diligent scholar since it was written in 1913. It is not the best of Ireland's output and apart from some contrived conversational moments between the clarinet and cello, it becomes a clarinet solo with the cello merging into the lower piano range. Despite the most arduous attempt to project the music by the trio, its lightweight material and struggle for equilibrium made the performance a more difficult task than the end product warranted.

The Sonata for clarinet and piano Op. 120 No. 2 in E Flat by Brahms was quite a different experience. Emma Johnson's limpid lyricism and exquisite phrasing was superbly accompanied by John Lenehan. Miss Johnson almost choreographs her playing as she moves around the piano, which to some (those who grew up with Sir Adrian Boult's stern baton and immovable corpus) is unnecessary. To others it is an added dimension to the music. But there was no question as to the delicious sound that they generated and the empathy between the players was truly remarkable.

The Cello Sonata by Frank Bridge is very skilfully constructed. Natalie Clein and John Lenehan exploited every opportunity to bring this highly-charged romanticism to their audience. One has to bear in mind with a cello and piano work, the cello has four strings and a portable sound-box whilst the piano has many more strings, a huge soundboard and a sustaining pedal. The sustaining pedal was "the soul of Romantic music", but if used liberally blurs the whole sound pattern and yet it is impossible to create a really romantic sound without it. What is more the pianist often receives the same dynamic marking as the cellist and so if he plays the piano in the manner of a Lisztian soloist the poor cello is swamped. Natalie Clein played magnificently with passion and conviction whilst John Lenehan performed the near impossible. He conveyed his great moments of passion without swamping his cellist and achieved the apogee of accompanying but played like a soloist.

The trio in A minor for clarinet, cello and piano Op. 114 by Brahms is a much more satisfying work than the Ireland which opened the concert. The ensemble's fastidious attention to balance and dynamics was always to the fore and there was a oneness rarely found in most mixed ensembles.

The evening ended on a light note with an arrangement of Monti's Czardas, which although redolent with tongue in cheek humour still concentrated on refinement, balance and the sheer joy of making music. A memorable concert indeed.

Adrienne Fox

[This review also appeared in the Craven Herald & Pioneer on Friday 13 Feb 2009]

Endellion String Quartet
13 October 2009

Browsing through the prospectus, what attracts the concert-goer about the coming season? The artists themselves or the composers and their music? Primarily, maybe, it should be the composer and his music. Unlike the painter or novellist, the composer's art (like that of the drammatist) remains mute and inert until brought to life by the interpretative insight of the performing artist. It is a quirk of human nature generally to accord more laurels (and certainly more financial reward!) to the performer than the composer or dramatist. There is often justification for this. Haydn was regarded as "the father of the string quartet" since he wrote so many and established the quartet as one of the most satisfying - both intellectually and emotionally - of all forms of music. As time has gone by and music progressed, many of Haydn's quartets (and indeed symphonies) are now regarded as a bit naive and tame. So that it needs the most superlative performance to make them sound compelling. The eloquent and wholly persuasive performance of one of Haydn's quartets by the distinguished Endellion Quartet was a justification for the attitude that rates the performer more highly than the composer and his music. Haydn has never been a major attraction of mine, but it has to be admitted that this exquisite performance made me reconsider an attitude to his chamber music. If only all the Haydn quartets one has heard could have been played like this!

The Brahms Quartet, Op. 67 is lighter than the composer's other two quartets, so that, on the face of it, there would seem to be a similarity - at least in style and purpose - to that of the Haydn, but whereas Haydn has never greatly appealed, throughout many decades of music Brahms has been one of the most profound, towering influences. Curiously though, this B-flat major quartet somehow did not provide the expected high-point of the evening. Instead it was Bartok's Fourth Quartet written in the late 1920's.

Whereas the other two works in the programme had been light-hearted; this vibrant, imaginative and forceful work, expressive of immense dynamic energy was totally compelling. Dissonant certainly, but of an expressive purpose irresistible in its manner; a true twentieth century evocation of astonishing myriad sounds. Bartok, the collector of his native Hungarian folk songs had another side to his nature: one of whose secret delights was to walk alone in the depths of the forest at night, armed with a flash-lamp seeking out and observing all manner of nocturnal creatures and insects. This was a source of inspiration which gave shape to much of his music. Improbable as it may seem, could there also be a parallel with the later vivid expressive background music of television and the wild iconoclasm of jazz?

Arthur Butterworth

[This review also appeared in the Craven Herald & Pioneer on Thursday 29 Oct 2009]