Piece and composer of the day: Tarquinio Merula and his Capriccio Cromatico

After fighting my way through a heavy exam season, I think that I am ready to initiate normal life again. Therefore, to start the summer of with a bang, I'd like to show you all this piece which I've just discovered for myself.

You see, I have just started learning a new "set" of repertoire on the piano, and along with Mozart's 20th concerto, I thought that I'd better add some baroque into my life, as I haven't played any music from this era for a long time.

I chose Bach's "Chromatische Fantasie" as my baroque piece for this season and, whilst doing some background research, I found myself listening to the strangest piece of early baroque music. 

Tarquinio Merula was born in Busseto in 1595- or 94, and was trained in Cremona. A fine violinist, organist and sacred composer, he achieved fame in his life along with several important positions such as maestro di cappella at Cremona cathedral. However, it seems that he was quite a Casanova, having been charged with indecency amongst his pupils. 

Tarquinio Merula

In fact, this general sauciness about him was present in his musical ouvre, composing very rousing works for the time, such as an opera (baroque opera is quite, well, erm... see for yourself), madrigals and canzonettas (both very romantic), which were all the rage amongst the Italian upper classes. One need not look any further than this chromatic piece to realise that Merula was one of those musical bon viveurs that revelled in the fashionable and modern trends of his day, rather like Monteverdi. Also, he helped pioneer many musical forms, such as the aria and trio sonata.

I do hope you enjoy this chromatic little jewel by Merula. I recommend you listen to this great recording, with original temperament (because I'm that historically informed). Let me tell you though, that equally tempered music will sound about ten times better after listening to this recording.

Tarquinio Merula: Capriccio Cromatico (Courtesy of Gabor Soos)

Enjoy!

Review: Andrei Gavrilov with the Bristol Ensemble (18-5-14)

When I first heard that the great Russian pianist Andrei Gavrilov was going to play the two hardest piano concerti ever written in one single concert, I was fascinated. Later on, when I heard that he would attempt the monumental feat without a conductor I was utterly shocked at the thought of such a concert. I was really looking forward to this concert, and I can say that I’ve never quite seen anything like it.

The Russian master Andrei Gavrilov

The Bristol Ensemble conducted by the pianist himself and led by violinist Roger Huckle started the evening of Russian music off by playing Mussorgsky’s “Night on a bare mountain” with flaming bravado and true Sturm und Drang. The technicalities of the piece were well executed by the orchestra, and the piece was conducted most extraordinarily by Gavrilov, demonstrating his overflowing musicality and passion. His freedom in leadership and his total dedication to the mood and atmosphere of the music was captivating to watch and created an instant bond with the audience, creating a thoroughly enjoyable experience.  Perhaps a minor drawback was the lack of power from the string section, but I can almost certainly say that this was due to the hall or to the amount of players (4 desks of first violins).

Then Tchaikovsky’s first piano concerto commenced, with its loud brass figure at the beginning followed by punching and then lyrical strings. Gavrilov started, and filled the hall with his sound, playing musically and virtuosically. The music all seemed to flow naturally, with the piano cadenzas captivating the audience and prompting me to the edge of my seat. This was a sophisticated yet zesty performance, with a flawless third movement and a lyrical and rich second movement.

However, Gavrilov’s sound was too aggressive and eager, probably due to the rather timid piano and the lack of a lid. At times, the attack was too much, and the sound drowned itself out, not allowing a full sound to be produced and blurring some faster passages. I can see why Gavrilov would do this, as the piano had to be heard amidst the orchestra and its fiery playing. In spite of this, I do feel that the sound could have been more moderate. 

Having said this, I would much prefer this to be played with Gavrilov’s ebullient sense of performance and musicality however loudly and roughly, than with a shyer and less passionate approach.

Following this captivating display came the outstanding performance of Rachmaninov’s third piano concerto. This was tamer, with a less vigorous approach, which I personally preferred. The first movement was taken at a perhaps faster tempo than usual, which created a brilliant effect and allowed the piece to flow much more easily. The second movement was rapturous, and Gavrilov’s conducting really took the Bristol Ensemble to another level. This swiftly progressed to the vivacious third movement, which was euphorically performed with an incredible musical and technical prowess from Gavrilov. The orchestra adhered to Gavrilov’s musical decisions wonderfully, and performed on a different level than usual. This was also done in the Tchaikovsky. Solos were handled very well, and Roger Huckle led accurately and coherently from the front desk of the first violins, assuming an instrumental role in the performance. The lack of conductor somehow brought the orchestra and the soloist together, creating an essentially intimate affair which led to a musically enthralling performance. 

The whole piece finished fantastically with Gavrilov creating an explosion of sound and playing brilliantly. He captured the essence of the music and was able to transmit that to the audience, even if it meant snapping a string at the end and leaving the piano rather traumatised!

After a standing ovation from the audience and persistent clapping, Gavrilov returned to the stage and performed an exciting encore (Prokofiev?) in a dramatic, but musically sincere way. This adventurous and essentially fun piece finished the evening with a clear message: Gavrilov was enjoying himself, and with his novel but rousing conducting technique and his gobsmacking virtuosity he was able to make the audience enjoy themselves in this unforgettable concert.

Historically Informed Performance I: Tuning

I'm sorry guys, but it's difficult for me to avoid the elephant in the room any longer. Today is the day I shed light on my period performance tastes.

As any musician friend of mine will be able to tell you, I am ardently pro-HIP (historically informed performance) to the end. On this massive series of why I believe that it is the correct and should be the standard way to play any sort of music, I will give you all my reasons and allow you to make a historically informed decision.

Please note, although I said that I think HIP is the correct way of performing music, I would like to stress that that doesn't mean I condemn non-HIP performance, or that I can't appreciate or enjoy a non-HIP performance. In fact, there are many fine non-HIP performances out there, and of course it is your choice to choose which performance practice you like. (I even have some in my CD shelf...don't tell anybody.)

So in this first instalment of this series I would like to talk about the fundamental concept upon which the auditory experience of music relies on: tuning. 

It is common knowledge that today's standardised frequency for the note A (A4 specifically) is 440Hz (Hertz meaning vibrations per second). Well, mostly, but I'll get on to that later.

It is also of fairly common knowledge that period performance practice uses the standardised tuning of A=415Hz. But why? How can the definition of a note change through time, and how do we even know?

In fact, how do we even go about standardising the scientific value of a totally relative and intrinsically subjective concept that is "A"? The answer is, we don't. It is important to establish that A has never been the same. It has always changed from period to period and from region to region. 

But how do we know? In fact, period organs, period flutes, trumpets, horns and other non-tunable instruments can give us a pretty close idea.

The frequency of A differed greatly among the different regions of the western world in the baroque period. It can be safely said that pitch was higher in the north of what is now Germany than in the south, that pitch in Venice was higher that in Rome, and that pitch in France was a totally changeable concept dependant entirely upon the type of music being performed (to be expected from the French, obviously). 

Actually, this clears up a lot of issues. For example, have a look at this excerpt from on of Monteverdi's (Venice) operas:

This is meant to be sung by a soprano. Now, an operatic soprano of nowadays might find this uncomfortable, at is is so surprisingly low. But, if we perform it taking into account the date and period where it was written, it would be easier to perform as the music would sound a semitone higher, according to our ears. 

So how is this important?

Well, there are many examples like those we've just seen from baroque Italy, France and others, so that's a reason.

Another reason this is important, is that music is perceived differently depending on it's pitch. For me, Bach's Mass in B minor actually played in what is to day a B would sound weird.
It is also important for period instrument makers, but fundamentally, it is important for us, the listeners, as we should - in my opinion - hear music as the composer and contemporary audiences heard it.

Piece of the day: 7 Trio pieces for 3 Trautoniums by Paul Hindemith

Firstly, I have to apologise to everybody for not posting for a while. Rest assured I am back and ready to carry on writing.

Onto our subject for today. I must admit I was pretty shocked when I heard these pieces. 

Paul Hindemith - 7 Trio Pieces for 3 Trautoniums (Courtesy of ollavogala)

These seven barely-minute-long pieces written by Paul Hindemith in 1931 are a fantastically rounded set of rarities. They are written in an almost textbook expressionist style, but they never quite leave tonality, always charmingly resolving to a lovely triad at the end. This perfectly matches how the Nazis viewed him as a degenerate atonal artist, but the secretly hoped that he would continue to write in his early tonal style and become an iconic mainstream German composer.

Piece number five is a particular favourite of mine, with its undecided key of G major/minor at the beginning and its quirky style, it makes for a fun (or funny) listen. And number six, for its beautiful middle section and the ethereal sound that it makes. And number seven. And number two. 

In fact I couldn't decide which one I like the most. I honestly love all of them!

But what is most outstanding of these three pieces is the instrument that they were written for. This bizarre electronic creature is called a "Trautonium". It was invented by Friedrich Trautwein in around 1929 and was developed by Oskar Sala until his death. Hindemith took a particular fancy to this instrument, composing various works on it including a Trautonium concerto with strings.

This strange looking instrument has a vague whiff of electric chair about it, methinks

The instrument works by pressing a suspended wire down to a board, thus allowing the flow of electricity to pass and to create a note (or something like that!). There is also a mixer attached to some later models, allowing for sound effect and other possibilities. The expressive capabilities of this instrument are massive, as the player can produce vibrato and control dynamics. However the most important detail is that the player can control the "colours" ("Farben") of the sound, producing a wide variety of sounds that can sound rich, wiry, dense or light. 

Hindemith used all of these fantastic features when writing these pieces. For me, they show a machine-like and industrialised black-and-white world of the early thirties. I like that.

Enjoy!

Piece of the day: Mass for Double Choir by Frank Martin

Frank Martin (1890-1974) isn't a composer that you hear very much of. He was a Swiss composer who spent a large portion of his life in the Netherlands.

Among his works we can find an operatic setting in German of Shakespeare's "The Tempest", two piano concerti, a harpsichord concerto, a 'cello concerto, a violin concerto, a concerto for various wind instruments and six ballades for solo instruments and orchestra. We can also find a symphony, a chamber symphony, a ballet and a requiem mass among other works. His style is fundamentally tonal, but the composer had an atonality phase like most others during the early thirties. 

What's surprising is that he had a great talent for the piano since his early childhood, when he apparently composed full songs at the age of nine before having received formal musical tuition. It seems that his musical studies were not very thorough, having studied music informally whilst reading maths and physics at Geneva University. Later on he worked with Dalcroze, the developer of Eurythmics (a method of musical teaching that focuses especially on kinaesthetic aspects).

But what seemed to spark an interest in the boy was hearing a performance of Bach's St. Matthew Passion when he was twelve. Hereon, we can observe a fondness for Bach and the choral genre: he wrote and played on the harpsichord and clavichord, wrote plentiful vocal settings of religious texts and his chamber symphony is somewhat evocative of Bach's fifth Brandenburg Concerto, as the harpsichord and harp perform as soloists, not as a basso continuo. 

This mass in particular has something about it which makes it very individual. It is not like some pieces that feel as if they end prematurely or too late, but it is almost perfectly formed and has a particular sense of continuity in its programmatic style.

There are some features which I would like to point out.

First off, the piece is set brilliantly for double a cappela choir. The part writing shows a high level of craftsmanship, that we might expect from Martin's experience in choral writing.

The piece is really programmatic, with sections of the text being emphasised with the musical phrasing etc...

For example, in the Creed, the phrase "et homo factus est" is sung with a sudden tempo change, making it slow and reverent, almost reflecting the head-bow done in the mass whilst saying this phrase. 

"Crucifixus" is sung with the interval of the tritone, giving it a sense of turmoil. Furthermore, before this, the tenors proclaim "decisively" "begotten not made, consubstantial with the Father" just to get rid of two or three heresies right there on the spot.

The final section that is the "Agnus Dei" sounds truly penitent and bleak, with one choir slaving away at a quasi-drone whilst the other choir sings a rather menacing melody on top of that, which overall really conveys a call for mercy. It also reminds me of the Hebrew slaves asking for mercy and reminiscing (see Psalm 137). 

Overall, Frank Martin's Mass for double a cappela choir is a great work of art which is great to listen to mostly due to its form and line. Especially recommended during this time.

Do tell me what you think!

Piece of the day: Concerto com molti stromenti RV558 by Vivaldi

Now I must admit this piece is not so obscure.

I think we all need a bit more baroque in our lives though. I mean proper baroque, not Albinoni's Adagio (not actually by the man, although I do like it) which will be discussed in a future post; or baroque music played on an orchestra that's too big with modern instruments, modern tuning and very questionable musical and historical decisions (hint hint Karl Richter). Of course I have a lot to say on historical performance, but let's not go there yet because I might bite you.

This video which I'm about to share is - in my opinion - probably as close to perfection as one can get regarding baroque music. Take a look.

Vivaldi: Concerto com molti stromenti (Europa Galante) (Courtesy of Nearness)

This work by the Red Priest is the concerto for two recorders, two mandolins, two chalumeaux (baroque forerunner of the clarinet), theorbos (big fat lutes that could be used in sonic warfare due to their 55cm + long strings that go as low as the third A below middle C), a single violoncello, and two violins "in tromba marina".  Otherwise known as the Concerto com molti stromenti.

It is a late work, written in 1740 for a visit by Prince Frederick Christian of Poland to Venice. It is possibly one of his most unique and rounded works: I really really like it. You need not look further than the instrumentation to see that this is a great piece of work.

Something I would especially like to draw attention to is the specification that Vivaldi wrote on the score: "Due violini in tromba marina" (that's and educated guess, using my terribe Italian skills, as the score is not available online). This literally means "two violins in the manner of the marine trumpet (tromba marina)". The tromba marina was a two metre long instrument with one string, that had such a setup that it created a buzzing when played due to its bridge position. This gave it a trumpet-like sound, hence the name (have a listen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=srWxpRxlTbc courtesy of Iconografia Musical).

Tromba Marina

So what does Vivaldi think he's doing instructing a 59cm long instrument to sound like a 200cm long instrument?

What Vivaldi probably meant was that the violins were to recreate the buzzing that the hefty beast made when played. In the video, Fabio Biondi and the Europa Galante ensemble execute this fantastically, wherein the two principal violinists scrunch up some tin foil onto their bridges, creating a great buzzing sound. It would have probably have been done with paper originally. This, along with the theorbos, mandolins, recorders and cello, creates a highly developed and intricate texture which makes this piece a joy to listen to.

But what I love about this interpretation is its historical accuracy and the great sense of performance. The ensemble is stood up and arranged appropriately, with Fabio Biondi leading the whole thing in due course. Small rits and other slight nuances are performed, with some natural tempo variations that altogether make this a very alive and musical performance, despite my ardent dislike of Biondi's four seasons (why do people assume "historically accurate" means throw away everything people have done with the piece before and play it as crazily as possible?!). 

This goes to all who think that historical performances are dull and unmusical. 

Furthermore, the musicians are really enjoying themselves and are all playing with the greatest technical skill, whilst making intelligent, accurate and musical interpretation decisions as a coherent unit. 

There. Done. Semi-perfection.

Don't forget to add opinions and to share!

Tone production on string instruments

As all violinists and string instrumentalists out there will know, the technique of the violin (and other string instruments) is usually split into two sections: right-hand technique (bowing styles, tone production, dynamics) and left-hand technique (dexterity, intonation, vibrato). 

Why, just the book!

Many people, myself included, spend a large amount of time addressing left hand technique, but do not quite match that with the time they spend on right-hand technique. Lately I have found that the main area of improvement that I need to focus on is tone production and bow changing.

So I want to share with you some of the things that I've been told, some of the things I've researched, and some of the things that I'm practising.

Tone production can be thought of being comprised of three main factors:

• Bow position
• Bow speed 
• Bow pressure

Bow placement is important, as one can easily loose track of where they are, regarding this. A problem that I'm sometimes encountering is that I realise that I'm playing too near the fingerboard when I should be nearer the middle or the bridge, which is crucial, especially for the staccato bow stroke (as in Wieniawski, not staccato articulation). The opposite is that I'm playing too near the bridge, as I live life on the fast lane and am a totally free spirit...

Bow speed ties in with this very closely. For example, to play a note on the bridge and to achieve a beautiful, wispy tone, you need to use a faster bow, whereas for a loud, gritty (not scratchy) sound near the bridge, you need to use a slower bow.

Bow pressure is also very important, as - for example - you cannot produce a good fingerboard sound with a heavy bow. 

Lack of pressure control results in either scratching or, on the other end of the spectrum, a shy and timid tone. 

Factors that I have found affect this are forefinger pressure (on the fingerboard, the little finger must be used to counter-act the forefinger's pressure); arm and elbow height (the elbow must be in a high position for soft tone production and in a relatively low position for forte tone production) and straightness of bow.

An interesting contraption used to keep violin students' bows straight.

Also, different problems can be encountered at different points of the bow, such as the heel, where it is difficult to produce a soft tone due to its natural heaviness. This needs to be controlled in the arm and fingers in order to overcome these difficulties.

This can all seem basic, but everyone has these issues.

The problems that violinists encounter are due to a lack of control in these fundamental areas. Here are some exercises that I've researched or that I already practise, and that I think are effective:

• Play a long note near the bridge, with slow bow speed and high bow pressure. Do this for both up and down bows, taking care with bow change and keeping tone even.
• Do the same, just that on the fingerboard, with fast bow speed and low bow pressure (taking extra care on the up bow)

• "Press-ups": Place the tip of the bow on the string (bridge) and press down with the forefinger so that the bow hair touches the stick. This can also be done on other points of the bow, and is quite literally an exercise that should be repeated a couple of times.
• This exercise by my favourite violin pedagogue Ivan Galamian improves control of tone, despite the location of the bow (tip or heel). It is to be done on all strings, scales, double stops etc...

• This exercise by Dounis, whose studies aid and plague many students today, is brilliantly effective. I practise it every time I get the violin out. Apparently Leopold Mozart would get his students to practise a similar study, which means that Mozart Jr. probably did something like this.
  The bow shouldn't be stopped for the accented notes, as the forefinger should be used to emphasise these. (Again, this study is for all strings, and all positions, preferably.) 

Good luck with improving tone. Wish me good luck as well though!