Historically Informed Performance II: Instrumentation

The second basic difference in modern recordings and HIP recordings is the instrumentation used. In short, HIP recordings try to use instruments and ensembles that the composer would have used in his time, and for which he would have composed. (I am not by any means an expert in this so I will cover this briefly.)

Let's take an example: Bach's Wohltemperierte Clavier. There are many recordings available for this set of Preludes and Fugues, and there are many choices of instrument out there.

Most people would probably think that the most obvious choice for a HIP recording is one on the harpsichord. In fact, that is mostly correct. Harpsichords were popular and widely composed on in 1722, and most of the Preludes and Fugues would have been intended for one. But is it the only instrument on which Bach would have heard them? 

Bach's original harpsichord, which he owned the last twenty years of his life

In fact, sometimes we simply assume that all the pieces in WTC were all composed together for the same purpose. The fact is that Bach, when constructing this collection for his students and for his children, used older fugues and recycled new material. This poses tricky questions regarding interpretation, as some of these are unclear regarding instrument; some are even organ pieces.

A clear example is the A minor fugue from WTC I.

Highlighted in red, we can see the tonic pedal lasting four and a half bars, which is physically impossible to maintain without the use of a pedal (on a piano). The only other alternative is that this is an organ fugue arranged for keyboard (that pedal note being more metaphorical than not).

So, there are problems when interpreting these pieces, regarding instrumentation. I personally like Gustav Leondhart's harpsichord recording, yet the pedal in this fugue is obviously not played fully. So maybe it would be better to listen to the WTC set on an organ. 

There are performers who record these on the organ, but then there are some pieces that are obviously harpsichord pieces! 

This is mainly a matter of taste, therefore. Until now I have talked about the instruments that the composer would have used to write the music. But back then, like now, the instrument that the composer used was not necessarily the instrument that would have used in common households. A perfect example of this is the clavichord. The clavichord is like a smaller, weaker harpsichord which was usually used for practice or composition. However, many households had one, instead of a more expensive harpsichord. 

Therefore, due to the fact that the WTC Preludes and Fugues would have been played extensively on a clavichord, shouldn't we also accept this as a genuine option for recordings? (I personally love the clavichord's sweetness and sonority).

Bach's clavichord

Furthermore, the clavichord was still around by the end of the 18th century, and people still owned the instruments in their houses, despite the modern advances of the fortepiano. We can therefore assume that many people would have played Haydn's and Mozart's sonatas on a clavichord, and even some of Beethoven's. In fact, I recently heard a beautiful and convincing recording of Beethoven's Pathetique Sonata on a clavichord, by Wim Winters.

Wim Winters plays Beethoven's Pathetique on clavichord in an historical setting.

It is most likely that this sonata was composed on a Viennese fortepiano. But people probably still played it on the older and smaller clavichord (and harpsichord).

So really we should redefine what the principles of instrumentation for HIP are: not "performed on the instruments the composer would have used" but "performed on the instruments the musicians of the day would have used".

But... if the composers were happy to hear their pieces played on a clavichord, harpsichord and fortepiano (such as Mozart or even early Beethoven), what prevents us from playing them on a modern piano / violin etc... ? Food for thought. I know what my answer to that question is, but I would like to find out yours. Please comment below and thanks for reading.

Which is your favourite classical music CD?

So, I've been thinking recently about what a gift it is to have music so easily accessible and of such high quality all around us. In particular, I've been thinking about CDs and classical music, after listening to John Eliot Gardiner's Bach cantata set. These recordings are worked at with precision, intelligence, fine musicians and great quality. Bach would most certainly be impressed.

Therefore I'd like to ask you, readers of this humble blog, which classical recording would you place at the top of your list? Would it be Glenn Gould's 1981 Goldberg Variations, Kleiber's rendition of Beethoven's fifth and seventh, Gardiner's Matthäus-Passion?

Leave a comment below and explain why you like your recording. I'm excited to hear your suggestions.

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!

Concert Etiquette: Too old-fashioned? Part II - Performers

A [satirical] proper guide to concert etiquette by Carlos Rodriguez, part the second:

The presentation of performers is of the greatest importance in a concert situation. The audience expects strict adherence to basic rules of etiquette from the performers, which makes the concert experience more enjoyable.

• The dress of the male performer is to be either:
  a. White shirt, black trousers, black shoes and socks, black dinner jacket, black bow tie.
  Optional elements include a cummerbund or a red flower in the breast-pocket.
  b. Black suit with tails
  c. Any of the above without the jacket, but with red cummerbund and red bow tie.
• The dress of the female performer allows for more scope of choice. Ladies are to wear a long dress, which is not too tight or loose. Long skirts are preferable to short skirts, as the audience is to be attentive of the music and not other entertainments.

(Exceptions:

• Conductors are to wear a collarless black jacket.
• Sleeves are never to be rolled up.)

• When arriving upon the stage, the performers are to bow once and assume their positions (This does not apply for orchestras, in which case the conductor bows after his entry which will be after the entry of the concertmaster. See below.) If desired, a brief introduction to the piece will be given, although this should be taken care of in the programme.
• Concert masters shall enter onto the stage first. Beforehand, deputy concertmasters are to tune the orchestra, asking for a general A from the oboe (or the concertmaster can do this themselves after they go on). Conductors shall then assume the stage.
• Post performance, the performers are to bow in synchronisation, and female musicians are to be given a kiss on the hand by male conductors (only in the case of section leaders or soloists) or accompanists. Section leaders of orchestras will be given a handshake (or kiss, as aforementioned) by the conductor.
• Encores are to be given only after insistent clapping, and preferably after four returns onto the stage. They must not be given before this, as it may be perceived as desperate by the audience.

Meh.

It's somewhat annoying for a performer to have to adhere to these rules in most situations. Here's why.

Musicians essentially want to share. That's what they've given up a vast portion of their lives to be able to do. Performances are for sharing. So surely, does dress matter? Does presentation, synchronisation, and the time for giving an encore matter? Yes. But they do not have to be looked at with such rigid uniformity and conservative traditionalism.

I enjoy going to concerts and playing in them. They are laid out very well, so I'm not trying to criticise all of the traditional structure.

But there are some ideas which I would like to propose.

The first is that performers should wear clothes that are suitable for the occasion, but also allow for some individuality (in chamber music and smaller ensembles, perhaps) and comfort. I can tell you as a violinist that it is not comfortable playing in a bow tie, for example. Take a look at what the German Symphony Orchestra has introduced in their casual concerts series:

I like this. It shows the performers to be more human, more accessible. Besides, traditional concert dress is simply the elegant clothing from roughly a hundred years ago. Why shouldn't we wear elegant clothes from our era in concerts?

An example of modern clothes that could be worn in today's concerts

Swiftly moving on from fashion, my second proposal is that performers engage much more with the audience, and vice versa.

It has become standard for short introductions to be made before concerts. But what about between pieces, what about Q&As and audience feedback? These could all be applied in more informal, relaxed concert scenarios.

Unfortunately, I doubt that the concert (as a concept) could always handle such levels of audience interaction. My suggestions are idealistic and probably assume a perfect audience, but they would make a difference.

What I'm basically saying, is that concerts need to encourage the connection between the audience and the performers more. Even if it's just the aesthetics, or naming a concert "informal", or even ditching the word "concert" and calling it something else. Yes, they need social standards and they can't be pure spontaneity; don't get me wrong, I like concerts as they are, mostly. But, I think that performers should interact with each other and with the audience more, like how people do this in normal social situations, in order to make this an alive and accessible genre of music.

Do add opinions down in the comments!

Piece of the day: Piano Sonata no. 1 by John Field

Today I want to share a piece by British composer John Field (1782 - 1837).

The Irish composer John Field

He is best known for his nocturnes, which greatly influenced the work of Chopin, Liszt, Brahms and Schumann among others. These expressive works (especially for their time) are a bedrock of romantic piano music. His nocturne no. 5 in B flat major was the first piece of this sort that I learnt, before moving on to Chopin.

However in his piano sonata no. 1 (op. 1), we see a glimmer of what came before him. This lighthearted, almost Mozartian sonata was dedicated to his teacher and friend Muzio Clementi and reflects his compositional style with a simplistic salon façade, favoured by Chopin and even Schumann.

The first movement glides along in the pacific key of E flat major, and then reaches an interesting development section, where the melody is played in the tonic minor, and turbulent arpeggios in the left hand accompany an angry melody in the right hand (scandalised is the word I like to use for these passages). These developments are a typical feature of Field's music. 

After a neat resolution, the second movement (and last, interestingly) proves a jolly, but refined swagger. It's bouncy, it's fresh, it's simple. I like that.

Benjamin Firth plays this wonderfully along with Field's other works. I would really urge you to listen to his interpretation (at this point I would also urge you to get Spotify, if you haven't already, as you can listen to all of these albums I'm recommending for free). I can not recommend any other recordings due to unsatisfactory technique or interpretation (that wasn't meant to be so snobbish...).

Do tell me what you think!

Concert Etiquette: Too old-fashioned? Part I - Audience

A [satirical] proper guide to concert etiquette by Carlos Rodriguez

Pre-concert:

• It is most unacceptable to arrive to the concert venue with shabby and vulgar clothing. One must always take great care in the presentation of their person in formal occasions, as not to stand out in the audience, and prove an unpleasant sight to all other concertgoers.
• Arriving late to a concert is of the utmost rudeness. One is to arrive at least ten minutes early, for a sociable glass of wine at the venue cafe and to be seated in one's allocated stall promptly and swiftly.
• Special attention must go into turning off all mobile phones and electronic devices, as to not disturb other listeners and to ruin what is a rigorously aurally-demanding listening experience.

Inter-concert:

• Tapping, air conducting and humming are all strictly prohibited.
• All coughs shall be reserved until the end of a movement or piece.
• Drinking or eating is not permitted.
• Walking out of the auditorium to go to the comfort room is an utterly disgraceful lack of respect for fellow audience members and performers. A brief interval shall be given to allow for inconveniences.
• There are strict rules for the clapping during pieces:

1. Clapping is permitted only after the end of a piece (exceptions include opera performances whereupon one may clap after a virtuosic aria or the appearance of a diva. Of course, one is to wait after a sad or passionate number as to preserve the intimacy of the moment [see below]).
2. A brief moment of silence is to ensue a sad or captivating number (audience's discretion), which is to last three to five seconds.
3. Clapping between movements is most inappropriate (apart from the first movements of concerti and aforementioned operas).
4. Pieces shall not be interrupted by clapping, especially cadenzas.
5. Stamping is not permitted at the final applause, as it is a thuggish display.
6. Female performers may be called "brava" after their stage exit. Only male performers are to be called "bravo"; calling a female musician "bravo" is gross disrespect. If more than one musician is in question, "bravi" is to be used.
7. Flowers are not to be thrown on stage.
8. The request of an encore is to be held until the third appearance of a soloist or conductor. Any earlier attempts are premature.

So, what do we think?

Although I was exaggerating there, many people actually treat concerts as fundamentally social occasions with incoherently strict social rules. I have come across all of these "rules" as a result, and I have something to say about them.

First off, let's acknowledge that they're not all silly. Turning phones off, clapping between movements, waiting for a second to clap (although not exactly three to five seconds!) and not being a pain in the concert hall by coughing are all reasonable expectations. 

Is this sacrilege, or do we not see this enough?

This whole situation boils down to one premise: concerts are for listening to music. The only "rules" (I prefer guidelines) that apply are those that go towards making it a better experience for all.

Therefore, calling a female performer "bravo", throwing flowers on stage, wearing normal clothes, clapping between movements (this one is debatable), clapping after cadenzas, drinking, discreet tapping, stamping during applause and requesting an encore are okay.

Or so it should be.

In most concert halls, the guidelines are simple: turn phones off, arrive in reasonable clothing, do not disturb other audience members and do not take pictures.

This is perfectly alright. The problem is that there is a social stigma to going to concerts, especially among the newbies of the classical concert world. "Is there a special handshake?" "A special clap?"

Rest assured, no special clap is needed.

This needs to stop. Live concerts are special, intimate affairs, and we can't have people not wanting to come. 

So what I want to say, is that concerts are simply places to listen. If any rules are unrelated to this, then they are useless and fussy. In an ideal world, they would change in all the posh concert venues. But... as that's not going to happen anytime soon, I suppose, we have to take matters into our own hands, making concerts more accessible and free.

We need to behave like this in our own concerts, talk about this to friends, and voice this wherever we go. 

In conclusion, we want modern, friendly and vibrant concerts, as it was in the days of Mozart and Haydn. 

And I say amen to that.

...Next installment:

Concert Etiquette: Too old-fashioned? Part II - Musicians

Piece of the day: "Weep not for me, O Mother" by Fyodor Ivanov

I can actually say this time that this composer is truly unknown.

In fact, if it wasn't for one Youtube video kindly uploaded by VataliyGR then I'm sure that his legacy as a composer would have died.

Fyodor Ivanov lived from 1853 - 1919, and was the preceptor of the Moscow Church Choir. He is probably best known for conducting the premiere of Tchaikovsky's "The Angel Cried Out" in Moscow in March 1887. Apart from that, he is absent from most composer databases and is scarcely mentioned where ever you look over the internet. I can't even find a picture of him.

Ivanov - "Weep Not For Me, O Mother"

This wonderful piece of choral music by him is simply heavenly. The lyrics are from the 9th Ode of the Russian Orthodox Canon for Holy Saturday (somewhat appropriate for the season). They are words said by the expired Christ laying in the tomb and the weeping Virgin Mary beholding her crucified son. Death, stillness and pure sadness are captured in the music, especially within the languishing rising 6th sung by the first tenor in the beginning. However, the tone of the piece changes throughout, adopting a more meditative and somber mood, giving closure to Jesus's passing and waiting for the resurrection of the Christ. 

Jusepe de Ribera's "The Lamentation over the Dead Christ"

I love this piece. Share and enjoy.

Piece of the day: Piano sonata in G minor by Fanny Mendelssohn

Today's piece of the day is a very unheard of piece by the female composer Fanny Mendelssohn. She was the sister of Felix Mendelssohn, and her compositions are elegant, yet grandiose and rich.

Fanny Mendelssohn

In her catalogue of works one can find a rather popular Piano trio in D minor, shed-loads of songs, an oratorio on scenes from the Bible, more songs, some string quartet writing and a fair amount of little piano pieces. 

If I am to be honest with you, I'd expect this composer to be much more well known, like her brother. The piano sonata in G minor is a pianistic and grand piece. In spite of this, its short, sweet melodies make is somewhat fluffy and feathery, despite the rather sullen key of G minor.

This piece in its entirety is unavailable on youtube, apart from the first movement:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UtlCpIoWQUo (Courtesy of Demian Panello)

However, the whole piece, with more piano Stücke, is contained in a fine album by the pianist Beatrice Rauch, who performs the pieces sublimely. Thoroughly worth listening to.

Enjoy!

Piece of the day: Little suite by Witold Lutosławski

Today I wanted to share a rarely-played piece by the Polish composer Witold Roman Lutosławski (25 January 1913 – 7 February 1994), who composed some great music.

Witold Lutoslawski

His compositions use traditional folk melodies of his native Poland, and in his mature years take on an individual sort of twelve-tone atonality that he developed.

This piece is absolutely brilliant, and has some great moments, like the alternating meter sections in the first movement, the joyful second movement, the languishing but discrete melodies in the third, and the up-beat feeling to the fourth. Enjoy!


Witold Lutosławski, Little Suite

Review: Chloë Hanslip, Ben Gernon and the Bristol Ensemble (20-3-14)

On Thursday the 20^th March the Bristol Ensemble conducted by Ben Gernon played an all-Sibelius program at the Colston Hall, with internationally renowned British violinist Chloë Hanslip performing his passionate Violin concerto in D minor. The program consisted of the Violin concerto, Sibelius’ 5^th symphony and the great Finlandia, inspired by the Finnish patriotism of the nationalist composer.

The first piece, Finlandia, was executed with great musicality and with a flawless sense of sonority in all its musical colours, as is typical of the Bristol Ensemble – a group that is especially musical and reaches out to audiences brilliantly. Ben Gernon took to the stage with confidence and plenty of expression and freedom in his conducting, which proved effective and clear with the orchestra. The musicians played with technical accuracy and a heightened sense of performance which made the piece a pleasure to listen to amongst its sumptuous string melodies and fortissimo brass calls.

Ben Gernon

After Finlandia, violinist Chloë Hanslip gave the most fantastic performance of Sibelius’ violin concerto in D minor (op. 47), which proved to be a breathtaking and heart-wrenching performance. The soloist played with technical flawlessness and produced a rich, earthy sound on her 1737 Guarneri del Gesù violin. The first movement was tranquil, emotional and ecstatic in its opening and through the rest of its duration. The orchestra’s interpretation was sonorous and rich. This was then followed by an impassioned interpretation of the second movement, which was well executed both by the soloist and orchestra. 

Chloe Hanslip

The tempestuous third movement was performed with great passion and true feeling from the Hanslip, which was matched in its bravado by the orchestra. Later on in the third movement, the soloist played with hear-felt emotion and produced a wonderful sound: at times crystalline and at times gritty and stirring. This penetrated the concert hall with its brilliance and passion. 

Overall, the concerto was inspiringly performed both by the Bristol Ensemble and by the brilliant Chloë Hanslip. I expect her to become a household name in the near future.

Sibelius’ 5^th symphony (op. 82) was heard after the interval. This uplifting piece provided a great contrast against the dark and moving violin concerto which was very well received by the audience. Ben Gernon managed the orchestra beautifully and the musicians played very well. The conductor rose to the occasion with zest and vigour in his free, yet fairly traditional conducting style. Some general slips occurred during the performance of this piece, which were very sparse. However, these did not detract from the musicality of the performance. This piece was well executed and showed the stamina and passion of the musicians, especially the brass, who all delivered this well after playing a difficult and musically exhausting programme.

This concert was thoroughly worth watching, and I highly recommend attending future concerts given by the Bristol Ensemble, Chloë Hanslip, or Ben Gernon.

What is classical music? A not-so-easy question

What is classical music? A not-so-easy question

Many times, when I've told people that I enjoy listening to classical music, I have been given a reply along the lines of "classical music? That's so old!".

I usually try to explain to these people that classical music spans over four hundred years of music, but I'm sure that plenty of classical musicians have thought this through to themselves along with many non-musicians: "When did classical music stop and when did everything else begin?".

Well, up to about the beginning of the 20th century most people have it very clear. Jazz hand only just started in New Orleans twenty years before, music in Europe was pretty much the same.

Music genres up to the dawn of the 20th century

Then came Schoenberg. (Brace yourselves) 

After a whole age of exploring tonality that Mahler, Debussy and Strauss had been participants in, the Second Viennese School (Comprised of Schoenberg, Alban Berg and more of his disciples) came to do with it. According to them, art was becoming kitsch and over-indulgent, and didn't reflect the realities of society, which as hard as they were to hear, still needed to be conveyed in new and expressive art forms. They overcame tonality in the midst of what could be considered its dying pains. From here on, classical music stops. There. Simple, right?

Well not really. Firstly, we must take into consideration that other romantic composers were still alive, such as nationalist Jean Sibelius (d. 1957). Surely classical music still existed whilst these composers were still alive?

Also, Stravinsky started writing boundary-defining, tonal music whilst Schoenberg was still on the block. Many people consider The Firebird classical music, whereas Pierrot Lunaire starts to get people thinking. (By the way, I recommend checking out all of the composers and their music that I've written about. They are all great).

Pierrot, the nostalgic clown that is the subject of Schoenberg's song cycle

After expressionism (think Schoenberg) music - which had already branched off into Jazz and popular music - started to slowly evolve into what we now know as contemporary music. Composers such as John Cage, Leon Kirchner and Olivier Messiaen started writing more and more dissonant music, experimenting with household sounds and silence. Does 4'33 count as classical music? Most people would say no. 

Therefore, somewhere between the Second Viennese School and the start of these composers' careers, the concept of classical music just stops in our minds. This period of music is called modernism. The limits of tonality, rhythm and harmony were challenged and re-invented, following German Romanticism and its Wagnerian and luscious extended tonality.

So far so good. Here classical music stops and modernism starts. But what are we to do about composers such as Sibelius, still writing till his death in 1957?

These composers weren't writing in the current genres that were being explored at the time; they were what was left of the older romantic school. The fact that they were alive doesn't mean that their style was alive; fashionable among the young artists, or new...

Or does it? Well that's for you to decide.

Back to modernism. At its end near the 30s, modernism ends and post-modernism starts, with composers such as John Cage shoving screws into pianos and playing with cacti in the 60s to explore the banality of household sounds, and silence. However, by that time the neoclassical composers such as Busoni and Prokofiev had written classical music in reference to older styles, such as Pulcinella by Stravinsky. Jazz influenced artists such as Copland and Gershwin. These were writing till the 50s, with West Side Story written by Bernstein in '57. Surely this is classical music?

John Cage's Branches for amplified cacti and plants

Minimalism starts in the 60s in New York, and sees the rise of Reich and Adams, writing repetitive and hypnotic music comprised of "cells" changing and evolving. By the 70s this form had reached its peak, and classical music "officially" ends with the start of contemporary music.

To conclude this turbulent journey through the 20th century, we can see that romantic music had branched out during the beginnings of the century into various musical forms, some of which evolved further (modernism into contemporary), and others were left behind (neo-classicism). We cannot really decide on a cut-off point for the concept of classical music, although the best guess is that "classical" music might have ended at the Second Viennese School, and with the jazz-inspired writers like Copland and Bernstein. 

To further conclude, let's say it's subjective. That's why I didn't want to call this the "classical music place" originally, or to refer to my tastes as "classical". The murkiness of the term and the rich variety of composers and movements make this such a difficult word or concept do describe. Should we be challenging it?

A lesson that we have learned from this is to use the word sparingly. Let's celebrate that we had composers a hundred years ago making our lives hard today by exploring, demolishing and redefining boundaries and conventions. The complexity of the 20th century in music is rich and full, and we've only just touched upon it here. However, as usual, there is some great music to listen to along the way, and that's what matters.