Feeling early

Salut! Baroque are will of the wisps, slinking on stage in formal black, long dresses, unspoken, changing their lineup throughout the performance, various mixes of baroque strings, voices, oboe, harpsichord, recorders. This is genuinely early music, not ancient but European and feeling before Bach. This program was called Mr Purcell's farewell and featured three pieces written by friends, John Blow, Henry Hall and Jeremiah Clarke, at Purcell's untimely death, aged 35. There were some new names and even new vocabulary here. The piece by William Croft was a Ground in C minor. Ground as in Ground bass, another word for Basso ostinato, a recurring pattern. Or Matthew Locke's Curtain Tune in C major, obviously meaning an opening number, perhaps short. I loved the bass and soprano singing, often together, with dispersed pitches and unquestioned harmonies. The harpsichord that was gentle but omnipresent. The recorders of moderate volume but definitional of the period. It was my occasional revisit to the bass violin or baroque cello, tuned in fifths with the high string matching the violin's low G string. I'm learning bowing at the moment so I was particularly taken by Matthew Greco leading the violins with wonderfully fluent and expressive bowing. The music was lovely, in two sets. I enjoyed the vocals and even chuckled at some in English and was taken back to a past that seems very early, and they'd left. On the day, these were performers of few words, letting the music speak for itself and for Purcell and his contemporaries. Otherly and dignified, grounded and early.

Salut! Baroque performed at the Albert Hall and will return for another three concerts in the 2015 program. Salut! comprised Josie Ryan (soprano), Alexander Knight (bass), Sally Melhuish (recorder), Hans-Dieter Michatz (recorder), Jane Downer (baroque oboe), Matthew Greco (baroque violin), Julia Russoniello (baroque violin), Valmai Coggins (baroque viola), Tim Blomfield (bass violin), Monika Kornel (harpsichord).

A German-Australian synthesis ... despite wars

I admire Chris Latham's CIMF and this was his last. Unfortunately, we had clashes and couldn't be so involved this year. Chris gathers some fascinating batches of musicians to play varied music around festival themes. It's the discovery that's most interesting about this festival - new music, composers, musicians - and it suits the educated nature of Canberra. Journalists take care here; as Jack Waterford says, there's always someone who's an expert in Canberra to provide corrections. This week was busy for us so we only managed 3 concerts (and one workshop) and they were the blockbusters: not quite the adventure of CIMF but a treat none-the-less.

The final concert was Brahms Australian Requiem. Actually, it's his German Requiem, but sung in English as it was first performed in full in Australia in 1898. This was the biggest concert of the three we attended this year, with perhaps 200 performers including choir, orchestra and two soloists. It's a grand work, classical in conception, in seven movements, deep with cellos and basses and variously mournful and recovering. The choir was big in the wet environment of the Fitters' workshop with all the voices nicely merged into one. We were up front, on the aisle but nearer the cellos and basses, and we strained to hear the violins and various woodwinds and organ, although I heard gentle harp later when the chart was sparser. It's a feeling of being involved but perhaps not the best balance. This is a great space for choirs and power and passion if less so for clarity. But what a passion and volume this work has. The two soloist, bass-baritone and soprano, were big voices. This was in English but I didn't catch more than a phrase or two, from chorus or male soloist. There was a transcript (good on CIMF!) but I chose to listen. This was a big and passionate work in a big-sounding space.

To finish was a simpler composition, a song arranged by local Calvin Bowman, To Gratiana by W Denis Browne, a composer-soldier who died in WW1. It was a fitting, simple and touching ending for the festival called The Fire and the Rose, with twin themes of the 100th anniversary of WW1 and the 75th anniversary of the start of WW2. Then some short speeches and introductions and a last post, minute of silence and reveille. Mmmm. You can't fault the music in this festival. The little we heard this year were just the big works and they were revelatory. I hope we can be more involved and more adventurous next year, under the new CIMF musical director, Roland Peelman.

Brahms German Requiem was performed in English by the Wallfisch Band, ACO2, Canberra Festival Chorus, Simone Riksman (soprano), Alexander Knight (bass-baritone) under Roland Peelman (conductor). W Denis Browne To Gratiano was arranged for voice and orchestra by Calvin Bowman (arranger), with Christopher Saunders (tenor) and the others above.

Piano and two deep voices

Kimberley Steele presented another of her concerts at Wesley, this time with two very different streams: baritone Alexander Knight and cellist David Pereira. Alexander took much of the program with his big voice. [I was near the stage as they were warming up and this voice was huge! Who needs amps with a trained voice around]. Alexander was singing a range of art songs, from Rachmaninov and Schumann and Vaughan Williams, but through to some more obscure names like Gerald Finzi, George Butterworth and Dilys Elwyn-Edwards. I think Finzi was my favourite with more modern malleable harmonies and words form Shakespeare. Schumann was my least favourite. Perhaps because of his fame, he seemed predictable and the foolish nationalism and boy-war-wonder of the Two Grenadiers put me right off (I’ve just finished Farewell to arms and All quiet on the Western front so I’m now distressed by the war is great / Great war meme at the moment). His I bear no grudge also annoyed me, seeming to be more grudge bearing in musical presentation than not. Kimberley’s inclusion of the Elwyn-Edwards was a great remedy. Trust a woman’s sense. It was a song sung at her wedding and was vastly different to the Grenadier’s view. Perhaps the encore was somewhat the same, if from a bloke’s POV. It was one for the rum drinkers and Alex performed it with humour and grand operatic gestures. Fun.

The other part of the program was very different. David Pereira joined Kimberley for a rendition of Chopin Sonata for cello and piano in G minor. Chopin wrote it very near his own death, but it was not maudlin. Despite Chopin pianistic flamboyance, this was a work of joy and seriousness and unpretentiousness. Four movements over about 30 minutes. A very real pleasure with wonderful playing on both parts. I’ve heard David at two recent concerts and this one was particularly intimate. This was confident, firm and informed playing. I can understand his reputation.

A very enjoyable concert of two very different worlds. The outspoken verbalisation of voice with baritone power and a similar range in strings held together by Kimberley’s empathic piano One image returns to me here, when voice set the tempo and piano followed with wisps of notes. I think it was in Rachmaninov The Isle. Quite beautiful but also perfectly responsive and coherent. Another memory will be the wonderfully colourful image from poet Housman put to music by Butterworth: “feather head of folly”. Perhaps out of modern times, but amusing.

Kimberley Steele (piano) accompanied Alexander Knight (baritone) on songs by Gerald Finzi, George Butterworth, Rachmaninov, Vaughan Williams, Schumann and Dilys Elwyn-Edwards. She paired with David Pereira (cello) on Chopin Sonata in G minor for cello and piano. Op.65.

Patriots and eggs and the sea

There was a line in The Great South Land saying that Ferdinand de Quiros was the first Australian patriot. It’s about the only thing in the whole work that I didn’t admire and enjoy immensely. We attended the premiere (in this form) of Peter Sculthorpe’s Great South Land, an oratorio celebrating de Quiros, his search for the imagined southern land and his naming of Australia. This is a big, expansive work, lasting just under 100 minutes, in three parts, telling the story of his first and second voyages and attempts to fund a third. This is the late 1500s, at the end of the great period of exploration by the Portuguese. There’s narration by Peter Tregear, voices of Quiros (Andrew Goodwin) and his wife, Dona Ana (Louise Page), and a young soprano, perhaps his daughter, Geronima (Stephanie McLean or Hannah von Thrumm), his commander on the first trip, Medaña (Andrew Goodwin), and his wife, Dona Ysabel (Christina Wilson). The presence of the women was interesting. We think of the adventurers as men, but the women were involved with the lack of husbands for long periods. Like a war, really. And Dona Ysabel seems to have accompanied her husband and called off the first trip to the disappointment of de Quiros.

I loved it from the top, with an imposing entrance, leading to cello harmonics bird calls and swelling strings and brass that spelt rolling seas. I learnt another term this week, eggs, used for whole notes. There are lots of eggs for the strings and often for others. This does not move quickly, It’s like synthesisers with swells and decays. The strings were especially so, while the brass seemed to spell out melodies in short little phrases, although they too were gently formed. The basses (there were 4) were also on the long notes and they stunned me with a huge presence both pizz and bowed. That might be from the room. This is a live room, rectangular, windowed, proscenium arched and stucco-decorated. The percussion also rang out and they are by nature harder, tubular bells or drums. The bells contrasted nicely with the billowing wave-like presence of the rest of the instruments. This was an oratorio. There were several choirs gathered: sometimes singing, early on with back to the audience to give a distance that spoke of the sea, later often speaking lines, sometimes in gathering power with one of the voices. There were five voices for the characters. I enjoyed the varied tones of mezzo and soprano and soprano, the pure girl soprano, the powerful mature soprano reachggn to the heavens, the milder mezzo. I thought Andrew Goodwin’s tenor Quiros was particularly good.

It’s a fascinating story. I would have liked to read the libretto. Perhaps one disspointment was that I missed most of the story. The discoveries, the deaths, the power in the background and the influence of the various women, the dedication to a cause and the failures and bravery of it all. Apparently Peter Sculthorpe has followed the story all his life. He wrote an opera – this oratorio is that opera in new format – and the characters in the history of this work are fascinating: Nugget Coombes, James McAuley, Manning Clarke, Opera House, ABC fiftieth anniversary. Apparently we should add Chris Latham to that, because he had a role in promoting this oratorio version. In the end, this wonderful performance was broadcast live to ABC FM and Chris Latham even brought Sculthorpe into the room by mobile phone to hear the reception of his work. This was truly a memorable night with a winning work of historic interest. But then, it had special relevance to us for two reasons: we live in Quiros Street and we are billetting James Eccles, one of the viola players in the orchestra.

Peter Sculthorpe’s The Great South Land featured Andrew Goodwin (tenor), Alexander Knight (bass), Christina Wilson (mezzo soprano), Louise Page (soprano), Stephanie McLean or Hannah von Thrumm (soprano), ANU School of Music Chamber Choir, Oriana Chorale, Canberra Choral Society with Bengt-Olov Palmqvist (choral director), Canberra Festival Orchestra with the ANU School of Music Faculty and students including DRUMatiX. Roland Peelman conducted.