Elora Festival Singers (3/15/15)

The Elora Festival Singers, Noel Edison, conductor, is a Canada-based professional choir that I heard in concert at Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church on Sunday afternoon. The 23-voice ensemble began their program with what I call the “English choir school sound”—sort of like a choral organ (a white choral sound, as in vocal purity with very little vibrato). There were two pieces by Timothy Corlis (b. 1972), a Canadian composer who was in the audience, and two by Eric Whitacre (b. 1970), an American, er, USofAn composer. The first Corlis work displayed the choir’s nicely blended choral sound and had minimal piano accompaniment, in a slightly minimalist style. James Bourne, one of the basses, was the able accompanist throughout the afternoon, as needed. The first of the two Whitacre works that followed was calm and slightly dissonant at times and demonstrated nicely controlled dynamics. Immortality, the second work by Corlis, was commissioned especially for the choir’s recent appearance at Carnegie Hall. While I liked it, I found it to be a touch too repetitious toward the end. Two more contemporary pieces followed before closing out the first half with Benjamin Britten’s (1913–1976) Rejoice in the Lamb, an eight-movement cantata for choir, soloists and organ (played here by
Andrew Henderson). The rather absurdist text, written by Christopher Smart while he was in an insane asylum, is pretty well known to me, and I had no problems understanding it in the choir’s capable hands. The four soloists, stepping out from the choir, all sang well. The eight movements progress in a through-composed style—each is distinct but leads to the next with no real break, yet not exactly nonstop.

After intermission, the works were a bit on the lighter side, including a small set of four Old American Songs by Aaron Copland (1900–1990). Of the four, my favorite was I Bought Me a Cat, which is sort of like a grown-up’s version of Old MacDonald. Along the way we hear cat, duck, goose, hen, pig, cow, horse, and wife(!) sounds. It was robust, as compared with the two tender songs that preceded it, At the River and Long Time Ago.

Folk songs and quasi-folk songs followed, including settings of John Brown’s Body (with a terrific soprano solo), a jazz-tinged Londonderry Air, Loch Lomond, Shenandoah, and She’s Called Nova Scotia. The latter could have become treacly, but the powerhouse baritone solo just about turned it into a power ballad/anthem with piano and choral accompaniment. The final work was a William L. Dawson (1886–1970) arrangement of the spiritual Soon-Ah Will Be Done. The enthusiastic crowd response led to an encore of another spiritual (maybe also a Dawson arrangement?), Every Time I Feel the Spirit.

This was a wonderfully performed concert by a fine choral group. They hit the mark whether it was a cappella, with piano accompaniment, or with the organ, in a nicely varied performance, with the choir as the main event, backed up by fine step-out solo turns from individual singers. Many thanks to Andrew Henderson and Mary Huff for providing me with the opportunity to hear the Elora Festival Singers.

ConcertMeister

A Very Busy Weekend (3/13, 14, 15/15)

Friday evening found me at the US premiere of the play Keeping Up Appearances, based on characters from the British comedy television series. Those of you who know, or know about, the series have a bit of a leg up. Those of you who don’t, feel free to let your eyes glaze over.

The main characters are all represented. This is not a re-creation of any specific portion of the series, but a true stand-alone piece. Hyacinth Bucket (“It’s bouquet!”) starts out quarreling with her neighbor Emmett, who is preparing to rehearse a play he’s directing, thus preventing Hyacinth from displaying her painting (oil on silk—she could never use anything so coarse as canvas!) as part of the art display that is supposed to be set up in the church hall. An interesting metaprime moment here is that the performance I saw was staged in a church hall. Hyacinth insists that she’s committed to the painting group and could not possibly devote any time to Emmett’s play. That is, until she hears that the role of Lady Malverne still needs to be cast. Well, she graciously wheedles her way into the production.

What she does not do, however, is read the script and see that Lady Malverne gets murdered early on in the first act, and that she must also play a lowly cook in the second act. She is not amused!

Along the way, we find out that her sister Daisy is in the cast (as a duchess, no less!), as are her sister Rose and Daisy’s husband Onslow. There is a recently divorced gentleman, Edward “Milly” Milson, for Rose to ply her wily charms upon, Richard is on hand to run various errands for Hyacinth, and the Vicar is on hand (in a non-speaking role) to turn tail every time he sees the “Bucket woman.” Even Daddy makes an appearance, after giving sister Violet the slip (she’s the one with the Mercedes, swimming pool, and room for a pony). She is only referenced in a couple of Hyacinth’s set pieces—phone monologues. Seeing that the location is not Hyacinth’s home, the phone monologues take place on her clunky cell phone that gets trillingly answered, “You have reached the exclusive private mobile phone of Hyacinth Bou-quet. She herself is speaking!” Hyacinth also has the requisite phone monologue with her son Sheridan.

Well, you get the drift. There were lots of laughs in this Theatre Fellowship of Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church production, with its mix of two Actors’ Equity members, several variously trained actors in the equivalent of a very good community theater performance, and a handful of church members. Wisely, none of the actors tried to imitate or impersonate the cast members of the TV series. There was a mix (and a mix of success) of British accents. The entire cast performed well, with special kudos going to Isabella Knight as Hyacinth, who provided laughs as Hyacinth, Lady Malverne, and the lowly cook. I had a very pleasant evening in the theater.

On Saturday afternoon, I attended a program of silent films with live piano accompaniment. This was the second in a series featuring the Hal Roach Studios, and all seven of the shorts featured Harold Lloyd in films ranging from 1915 (he had only gotten his start in the movies in 1914 as an extra) through to 1920. It ably demonstrated his growth as a comedian and Roach’s growth as a director and producer, but it was a little heavy handed and a little too much same old, same old for my taste. While I enjoy these silents, I’m not a real diehard aficionado, and this seemed more like a mini movie class as opposed to just an afternoon of fun. The 1915 offering, Peculiar Patient Pranks, and the 1917 offering, When Clubs Are Trumps, were both single-reel offerings and both had fairly heavy condition issues. Maybe one of them could have been dropped?

The City Slicker (1918) was more enjoyable for me, and Get Out and Get Under (1920) was the most sophisticated of the seven. Even though I’m pretty sure I’ve seen it before, it still packed a lot of laughs. As always, Ben Model’s mostly improvised scores were quite impressive, as was his stamina, and Steve Massa’s program notes were packed with information, though he tended to cover a lot of it in his introduction to the first two films. Hey, I read program notes—I don’t need them essentially read to me. But that’s just my minor quibble, and I’ll most likely attend the third in this series later in the spring. More on Sunday in the next post.

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The Mirror Visions Ensemble (3/7/2015)

Vira Slywotzky, soprano, Scott Murphree, tenor, and Jesse Blumberg, baritone, presented a program called "Journeys," ably assisted by Grant Wenaus, piano. The program listing itself was nice in that it gave the composer, title, and poet/lyricist—everyone was on equal footing. Clocking in at sixteen songs, not every one will get a complete mention and treatment. Each vocalist got a chance to perform as soloist, and there were nice combinations of duos and trios put together, some mixtures of their own devising, which made for an interesting afternoon. I preferred Messrs. Murphree's and Blumberg's voices to that of Ms. Slywotzky—purely my preference.

L'invitation au voyage (Henri Duparc/Charles Baudelaire) set us off on the right course. It was simple and lovely, with tinkly accompaniment, sung by Mr. Murphree. His voice was somewhat dark hued for a tenor, but it was put to good use, as well as his foreign language and English diction. The same can pretty much be said for all three, in terms of diction. Mr. Blumberg followed  with Auf einer Wanderung (Hugo Wolf/Eduard Mörike). You just have to love a language where 'lustbeklommen' = 'joy'. Ms. Slywotzky followed with The Mermaid's Song (Joseph Haydn/Anne Hunter), sung in English. I'll say it again and again, it's difficult setting lyrics for the soprano voice—the composer wants that gleaming sound which is, often, not conducive to clearly set lyrics. That was the case here.

L'Île Inconnue deftly took a Hector Berlioz setting of a Théophile Gautier text and divided it between all three vocalists. It was a wonderful way to tell the story. Great Barrier Reef, by Gilda Lyons with a text by her, based on recent studies that she adapted, came across pretty much like that—fragmented phrases, mouth pops, a modern madrigal that was not terribly effective in terms of pleasantness—but it was performed well. It was commissioned by the ensemble.

Tale of the Oyster (Cole Porter, from Fifty Million Frenchmen) gave Mr. Murphree a chance to show his comedy chops. Not over the top, but using Porter as a theme. The tag line from each verse sort of says it all: Poor little oyster; Lucky little oyster; Thrilled little oyster; Proud little oyster; Scared little oyster; Up comes the oyster; Wise little oyster.

Letters to Isabella was another commission, and this one hit the mark much better. Composed by Scott Wheeler, it set the texts of three letters to Isabella Stewart Gardner (she of Boston museum fame, a place I need to go see) from Henry James, Paul Bourget (a French poet and novelist), and Kakuzo Okakura. Mr. Okakura's letter was actually written to his cat, Kotchan, who he had to leave behind with Isabella upon his return to Japan, though the letter was really to both Kotchan and Isabella.

Of the next set, He's Gone Away (Traditional, arr. K. Davis/Unknown) spoke to me because I have a beautiful setting of it sung by the Dale Warland Singers. It was a favorite of mine and Michael's. Mr. Blumberg did a fine job.

A trio of Hotel songs (Francis Poulenc/Guillaume Apollinaire, Samuel Barber/James Joyce, Tom Cipullo/Edna St. Vincent Millay) was effective, although the last one was pretty much a long way to go for such a little payoff. It was also a commissioned work; however, I have to give the ensemble props for supporting contemporary composers and for going out on a limb from time to time.

Chanson (Stephen Schwartz), from The Baker's Wife, was pleasant, if slightly not quite effective enough as performed by Ms. Slywotzky. There were a couple of other commissioned works that were dropped from the program, and the ensemble finished with a setting of The Owl and the Pussycat, which was somewhat amusing (except for the rather juvenile repetition of "pussy," "pussy," "pussy").

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Carnegie Hall Neighborhood Concerts (2/22 & 28/15)

I can’t sing the praises of the Carnegie Hall Neighborhood Concerts enough—free concerts in all five boroughs ranging from classical to jazz, to children’s concerts, etc. More on singing later, however.

Sunday, February 22, found me in Brooklyn at the Brooklyn Public Library, Central Library, for the Calder Quartet (Ben Jacobson, violin; Andrew Bulbrook, violin; Jonathan Moerschel, viola; and Eric Byers, cello). The venue there has the audience in darkness, so jotting notes was not possible. There were three works on the program.

Sabina (2008–2009) – Andrew Norman (b. 1979)
Arcadiana for String Quartet, Op. 12 (1994) – Thomas Adès (b. 1971)
String Quartet in F Major (1902–1903), Allegro moderato: Très doux; Assez vif: Très rhythmé; Très lent; Vif et agité – Maurice Ravel (1875–1937)

Taking the last first, the Ravel was very modern sounding, and probably seemed incredibly modern for its time, with its use of disjointed phrases, dissonances, and playing techniques that included repeated motifs tossed from player to player, and not always at the same time. So, somewhat jumbled. Still, I liked the work, and the four movements were clear as to their beginnings, middles, and ends. I went for the last first because of the way it demonstrated those various techniques. Arcadiana had seven movements, but it was pretty much impossible to tell one from the others. So, fairly jumbled. And where the strange new techniques in the Ravel worked pretty well, the same could not be said for the Adès. And those same techniques were used and splintered even more in the opening work. So, we heard very strange techniques in the first two works and then the genesis of those techniques in the Ravel, where they made much more sense. It was an interesting afternoon, with the Ravel being my favorite of the three works.

Saturday, February 28, found me on the Upper West Side for a vocal recital by Andrew Haji, tenor, with Liz Upchurch, piano. Both artists are associated with the Canadian Opera Company Ensemble Studio, Mr. Haji as a member and Ms. Upchurch as music director. The program notes refer to Mr. Haji’s “bright, clear tone ... and Italianate voice,” and both were on display Saturday.

S’il est un charmant gazon; Oh! Quand je dors (Élégie Etienne Monnier); Enfant, si j’étais roi – Franz Liszt (1811–1886)
Dichterliebe, Op. 48 – Robert Schumann (1810–1856)
Oliver Cromwell, Vol. 1, No. 7; Down by the Salley Gardens; O Waly, Waly; The Foggy, Foggy Dew, Vol. 3, No. 5 – Benjamin Britten (1913–1976)
O sole mio – Eduardo di Capua (1865–1917)
Torna a Surriento – Ernesto de Curtis (1875–1937)
L’alba sepàra dalla luce l’ombra – Paolo Tosti (1846–1916)

My notes for the first of the French chansons remarked on the very pretty voice and very sensitive accompaniment. Both of those carried through the entire recital. The second had an almost mystical quality, while the third was livelier and ended very prettily.

Dichterliebe is a sixteen-song cycle dealing with a young man’s finding love, finding the love not only not returned, but given to another man, and eventually totally resigned to the fact that it will never be. Mr. Haji’s arc through the cycle was very good. There were a few spots (mostly in his lower register) where the brightness of his voice didn’t quite come through, and he was slightly overpowered by the accompaniment, although that might also have been due to the acoustics in the church. This was, according to him, the first time he’d performed the entire cycle; he did an admirable job—and it was all from memory.

The Britten songs were interesting, and Mr. Haji’s diction here, as in the French and German, was very good. But the actual setting of the text in the first song made it difficult to understand. The second, Down by the Salley Gardens, was quite pleasant. O Waly, Waly (“The water is wide I cannot get o’er”) was a traditional version of the text and tune, with a varied and intricate accompaniment. Of the four English songs, I found this to be the most successful. The Foggy, Foggy Dew had a nicely done touch of humor.

O sole mio and Surriento were described as ‘lollipops’, and that’s exactly what they were. They’re so familiar that they could have come off as trite, but he played it straight and they turned out just fine. The third ‘lollipop’ was in the same vein, but its lack of familiarity made it the most enjoyable of the three, for me. As an encore, he sang Una furtive lagrima from Donizetti’s L’elisir d’amore.

A very pleasant late afternoon recital well sung and well played.

ConcertMeister