For love of intimacy

Megan and I attended Concert 31 of the Canberra International Music Festival to hear the renowned acoustics, but it’s also a favourite era of Megan’s. The session was tagged “Discovering unknown Schubert masterworks”. The repertoire was Schubert Symphonies nos 10 and 11 along with Graeme Koehne’s Sleep of reason. The two Schuberts were Australian premieres, presumably for the orchestrations rather than the pieces. It was the no.10 that went first, then the Koehne with big sweeps of strings and obvious filmic resonances, then interval and the no.11 with paired cellos. I particularly remember a lovely segment at the end with one pizzicato cello accompanying a bowed cello melody. But the whole effect was quite magical. I understand the excitement over the venue, but also the reticence and I’m relieved that at least a decent alternative use has been selected. But this night was very special. I didn’t hear the sound as precise or particularly well balanced and it wouldn’t suit many musical styles (I expect jazz included). The buzz of conversation before the performance was like a noisy hip café where you can’t hear your partner speak. (Thinking back, I wonder if this will be a problem for an artists’ workshop and gallery). But this suits strings and orchestra and it was big and full and enveloping. I noticed bells ringing with a vibrancy I’ve never heard before. The strings were enveloping and the basses were stunningly present. One of the performing bass players told me later that they’d reduced numbers for some performances because the sound was so intense. But the key issue was the intimacy and intensity of the experience. This was something to savour in a way that our recent Sydney Symphony in the cavernous Opera House was not. There were errors and questionable intonations and the rest, but I’d choose this anytime over a precise, professional but distant music experience. The atmosphere was aided by the lack of facilities, the rough seating, the earthy location, the cables on the ground and the poor lighting, the musicians’ clutter at the back beside the trestle-table bar and the rest. But the musical effect was a stunner. I sometimes think back to mediaeval days when the greatest musical experience was the travelling troubadour every few months. We are now surrounded by excellence and excess but much of it is recorded or distant or disembodied. This was everything that is not. This was intimate and exhilarating and a musical treat in a space of accidental excellence. The works were Graeme Koehne Sleep of Reason, Schubert Symphony no.10 orchestrated by Brian Newbold and Schubert Symphony no.11 orchestrated by Joseph Joachim. The performers were noted in the Festival program as Timo-Veikko Valve (cello), Fredrik Sjölin (cello), Canberra Festival Camerata, ANU School of Music Orchestra, Danish String Quartet, Édua Zádory (violin), Anna McMichael (violin), James Wannan (viola), David Pereira (cello), Justin Bullock (bass), John Harding (conductor), but I’m not sure this is 100% correct.

Students in flight

Last night it was the students from the other building that I saw, the classical students, playing a free concert as the ANU School of Music Orchestra. I remember there was some consternation at the Jazz School when it was moved from its Manuka campus (now ArtSound studio and Photoaccess). The parking was more difficult in Civic and the ambience was more formal and corporate. But I think they’d be pretty happy with the result. Now there’s a mutual awareness and respect, and some crossover of students for various classes. It can only be for the better for the music.

Orchestras are a wonderful indulgence that I’ve recently rediscovered. Sometimes deliciously detailed and subtle; other times blatant and loud; always educated and skilled. These were students, so not quite at the level of our CSO or AYO, let alone the great orchestras we hear on record. The dynamics seemed a bit timid, as if there was a lack of courage or confidence, and the intonation sometimes took a few notes to settle at the start of a few phrases. But that’s a quibble. We call them students because they are learning (not that anyone ever finishes learning in music). But this was a lovely and satisfying performance.

Megan and I both liked the modern Australian composition the best. Szeto’s Energy 1 was variously brooding, bombastic, involving and rhythmically exciting, with staccato and oddly timed orchestral hits, lots of percussion and bass drum, lengthy melodies that seemed unheeding of barlines and a great workout for the brass. The other pieces were Berlioz’s King Lear Overture Op. 4 (no, I didn’t pick the storm scene or Cordelia, but I did like the busy and deliciously contrasting accompaniment on glockenspiel, or was marimba?) and Tchaikovsky’s Symphony no. 1 op. 13 in D minor. These were satisfying, of course, with Berlioz sounding of his classical forebears, and Tchaikovsky more romantically inclined. Megan was disappointed with the thematic development of each composition. I also felt what seemed to me to be statements of themes rather than alterations. But I’m untutored in this field. Look up your Groves for a better review of the works themselves. (BTW, did you know the full Groves Encyclopaedia of Music is available free online to members of the ACT Library service? And the Naxos CD collection as streaming music. Link below.)

Thanks to the ANUSM for another wonderful concert. This is a gem of an institution to have on our doorstep. But then Canberra’s full of such gems. The ANU School of Music Orchestra performed at the Llewellyn Hall with Dominic Harvey as conductor.

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Better old and new

Free orchestral concert in Llewellyn? Wouldn’t miss it; better than those late night offers on TV. This was the ANU School of Music Orchestra. Presumably they are the students. They certainly looked young, but they played well and the program was a pleasant one, with just a little challenge. Firstly Gershwin’s American in Paris. It’s a popular work. From the top it was a hoot, literally with the sounds of car horns, and figuratively with big European city aliveness. There were jazz syncopations that represented the brash, brassy yank, and cute, bouncy litheness that was the Parisian surroundings. It was a Paris that’s perhaps not so obvious these days, but you saw it in films of the period. There was a second movement that was more in awe and wonder, then the elephantine statement at the third movement with its bluesy, laid back, Yanky statement. Lovely and joyous and wonderfully, almost visually, descriptive.

Then followed the Piano concerto by Constant Lambert. This was not so well known, at least to me. It’s a work from 1924. I often find works of that period remind me of film. Presumably, the film composers at that time, and shortly thereafter were influenced by these styles. Megan was at a loss for a major theme. I found it attractive, in a Roman epic way. Earlier on, I thought of B-grade Roman epics and those strange cowboy-style horse chases they featured. Then mills and stream and brooks, then a denouement. Nicely played, and interesting, if somewhat typecast to my ears. Blame that on the commercial culture that also has me equating Carmina Burana with a brand of instant coffee. Anthony Smith was the pianist.

There was an interval, then the last work: Dvorak’s Symphony 9 “from the new world”. This was the longest work on the concert, and another one that’s hugely popular. I could feel the optimism of the work, but it seemed naive to my modern ear. I enjoyed it well enough but it remained unrealistic. All this hope and beauty and optimism. The first movement seemed enamoured of mountainous scenery and the grandeur of the plains, while referencing Errol Flynn’s Robin Hood in my mind. The second presented human dimensions of wives and horses and the trail west, all hardship and tenacity, and even a touch of doubt, but never of flag or country. Then a waltz for the third movement - that was difficult to fathom as it seemed to hark back to the old world. Then a fourth movement of sound and fury and again those filmic horses. I’m disrespectful, but I find this music too romantic: serious but verging on treacle. We’ve lost such hope for the new these days, and this music seems to me to be lost with it. I don’t prefer John Cage, but I do respect informed doubt, a willingness to question orthodoxy, a certain world-weary wisdom. These qualities say old world to me, not the new world of this music.

So what was my preference? Probably the Gershwin for its delightful mix of old world and new, and its open awareness and respect of the strengths of each. This was a wonderful balance of old and new and that’s the stronger path to the future. But it was a lovely program and a capable orchestra presented it. There were a few uncomfortable moments, but nothing to be concerned about. These are capable players who already provide a most attractive performance. And they are just students! I am in awe. Well done to the ANUSM and their lively orchestra and this amenable program. The ANU School of Music Orchestra was conducted by Mark Shiell. Anthony Smith joined on piano for the Lambert Piano Concerto.

Just one corner of one school

It was Universities Open Day today. No. 2 son visited ANU, but I just lurked at the Music School (which is also ANU, of course). There were masses of events there. I caught much of the jazz, and just touched the classical. It’s invigorating to realise just how much was available. This is just one university (although a renowned one), and I was overwhelmed with just one corner of one school. We live in such a time of richness, if only people will go out and find it. Here’s just a quick visit. Excuse the pics, but I dropped my normal camera today, and I’m back to a very, very basic model for the interim.

I caught all three of the large jazz ensembles: Recording Ensemble, Commercial Band and Big Band. The BB was an earlier jazz style, less challenging and a bit less exciting than the others, perhaps more of a training ensemble with newer students (although there’s a batch of mature students there too) but entertaining. The Recording Ensemble features original compositions by members. This is interesting and often blissful with varied tempos and rich harmonies and complex orchestrations. Interesting also for the double drum seats that are featuring this year. The Commercials are the funky outfit: lively, exciting, variety. They have some student arrangements, but mainly professional-level charts from the best arrangers. This is hot and sweaty grooves and just plain fun.

The Open Days also feature workshops by faculty. I missed the bass & drums workshop this year, but managed the piano trio workshop. Actually, this was a first performance of a new trio of Matt Thompson (piano), Eric Ajaye (bass) and Mark Sutton (drums) with some chats and Q&As between tunes. It’s in its very earliest days, but it’s quite a cerebral outfit. Eric spoke of refraining from dropping into swing. Mark talked of playing colours rather than his normal grooves. I imagine it’s especially demanding with eminently swingable tunes like Nardis, Solar and All the things you are. On the other hand, I felt this cool was Matt’s natural approach (given the limited times I’ve hear him play). Matt was sparse, single note right hand solos developing into considerable melodic complexity, and few, or long delayed, chords. Mark expressed some discomfort maintaining this colours role, feeling a desire to drop into something more clearly swung. Eric seemed to enjoy it, with bass chord comping, or repeated rapid accompaniment riffs, or solos alone or in conjunction with the others. It will be interesting to watch developments here.

I actually got drawn away from this trio by the siren song of a soprano wafting from Llewellyn Hall. Some highly pitched, plaintive, vibratoed notes with orchestral backing, and I was Odysseus unbound. Typical of sirens, though, the soprano had departed by the time I got there. The replacement was a good humoured rehearsal of the ANUSM Orchestra playing Bizet. They were playing a bouncing waltz as I entered, and some booming chords a little later. There were so many players on stage, so informal. In fact, the brass players seemed quite underemployed as they counted out the bars until they came in again. (I wondered if the Productivity Commission would see this as unproductive, inefficient? Probably not. I expect they attend). It was a lovely interlude, and evidence that there’s life beyond jazz.

But back to jazz, and John Mackey’s improvisation masterclass. It was more a chat and workshop, and an awareness-raiser for anyone who was considering the commitment that is jazz. John enjoys his practice, and it shows in great technique, incredible fluidity and huge tone. John takes a rational approach to learning the instrument, in order to “forget it all and just play” (Charlie Parker). Indications of his approach: any four notes can be played (without repeating a note) in 24 patterns; there are thousands of scales, but his students should practice 276 scales every day (23 scales in 12 keys); transcriptions are essential and his students are required to learn their chosen solos in 6 keys (he used to expect 12 keys, but he’s relented!). You get the message. He demonstrated several times: playing solos against an Aebersold recording of Have you met Miss Jones; later playing a transcribed solo, then playing the same, identical solo. A few quotes will give the feel: “If you have to think about the notes in a chord sequence, it’s over”, “Perfect your craft”, “Practice slowly all the time”. John represents intellect and commitment combined to support true and expansive expression: always inspiring.

I also visited the ANUSM Recording studio and mixing/mastering suite. Nevin Stines had recorded a Jazz School band earlier, and was doing a rough mix. Great gear, wonderful chatter about recording matters, and some hugely clear recorded sounds in the studio. Lastly, I caught John Burgess playing a solo EUB (Electric Upright Bass) set in the ANUSM Level 5 Café. This was loops and delays and tunes including Stella by starlight. Solo bass – nice one.

The number is 276

The Canberra tertiary institutions had their Open Day over the weekend, and that means Open Day for the School of Music. My Number One Son is now in Year 12 and I accompanied him to a few other venues around ANU (which were also very interesting), but I still managed a few stints at the School of Music. As I was driving in, I laughed at a natty Cole Porter tune on the radio called Friendship: “If you ever lose your teeth / when you dine / borrow mine.” Luckily, it didn’t set the tone for the day.

First up was an orchestra rehearsal in Llewelyn Hall. They were working on Prokofiev’s Violin Concerto no. 1 in D, Op.19 . I was too far back to hear instructions, but it was obviously nothing like Fellini’s typically odd movie (Prova d’orchestra = Orchestra rehearsal); this was much more congenial and chatty.

Next was John Mackey’s Improvisation Workshop. Lots of good ideas here, and some nice solo sax demonstrations. He started with 276, our magic number. It’s a scary number indicating the vocabulary of scales that an improvisor should practice daily. I can’t recreate the exact number, but it includes the modes of the scale families (major, harmonic minor, melodic minor, perhaps harmonic major), whole tones, diminished H-W and W-H, blues, major and minor pentatonics, major and minor bebop; perhaps more. Through all the keys, of course: daunting. John also spoke of using a practice diary, organising time, slow practice with metronomes, sound development and time studies, use of piano, ear training, moving conscious to unconscious, ear training, scalar cells and permutations, 4 hours minimum practice for maintenance. He demonstrated improvisation on a phrase, as in Sonny Rollins on the Williamsburg Bridge. Some quotes took may fancy: “please transcribe”, “turning maths into music”, “no yummy stuff on top” (meaning, a simple arpeggio without extensions), “[music] can’t be contrived”. And to finish, he told of playing 6 hours pd for 3 years, and only using 6 reeds. How? He keeps them permanently dunked in water when not in use. I imagine John’s a great teacher: all very friendly and easygoing, but with an underlying deadly seriousness. As serious as your life.

I only caught short snippets of a few other performances. The Commercial Ensemble started with Thieves in the temple, a Prince tune that Herbie Hancock had performed on his New Standards album. I had to go off, but the band was sounding lively and exciting and I got a few pics before leaving. Same thing for an ANU Marimba ensemble later in the day, when I heard just a few bars of an encore.

I returned again later to catch the last half of Eric Ajaye and Col Hoorweg’s rhythm masterclass. By the time I got there, it was mainly Eric and Col playing, and this was typically impressive, especially one sweet freejazz piece with Col’s unique soundscapes and Eric’s bass playing free. Eric said before he started that he knew his first note would be a G and otherwise it was unplanned, although I did hear one clear and lengthy quote from Stella by starlight. The day ended with the Big Band in Llewelyn Hall. I expect all that new timber makes for a beautifully reverberent and alive sound space for strings and softer classical instruments, but I found it edgy and unbalanced for the Big Band. The brass was strident and overbearing, and the rhythm section and saxes were wanting. They tell me, from onstage, that the snare snaps back from the back wall (admittedly there was only a small audience). There were several solos that took my fancy (I especially remember Marie LeBrun’s vocal solo on Moondance, and a dual trumpet improv) and the band was capable, but the sound made the concert less satisfying. The message is “horses for courses”, I guess: use Llewelyn for what it’s best at.

Our jazz-supporting mates from ArtSound were there for the day, and I’ve added one pic of their crew relaxing at the end of the day. They do a great job.