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Phillip T Young Recital Hall
April 1, 2007
"The best European composer I know is Argentinian."
The words are those of John Cage and he was talking about Mauricio Kagel, two of whose eight Windrose Stücke (Compass Pieces) closed Sunday's concert by Aventa.
Kagel is unique and entirely his own master, following no schools or fashions of musical thought. His music generally appeals on a very intuitive level, yet can still apparently bear the weight of postmodern intellectualism, as witness the title of a recent PhD thesis: 'Transcending Quotation': Cross-cultural Musical Representation in Mauricio Kagel's Die Stücke der Windrose für Salonorchester.
Indeed.
Still, as the great Hermann Scherchen once remarked: "Music does not have to be understood, it has to be listened to" and in a purely sonic sense, Kagel has a great deal to offer - you will hear strange and multifarious sonorities in the Windrose Stücke.
Some of this is due to Kagel's extraordinary instrumentation - I have rarely such such a bizarre array of percussion "instruments" before, including sheets of metal, a jug of water, a crumpled calfskin timpani head, rocks, styrofoam, a bull-roarer and much more. The "normal" instruments in the ensemble were piano, harmonium (five octave), clarinet, two violins, viola, cello and doublebass. But you can forget any notion that these latter made conventional sounds while the percussionists enjoyed themselves.
While Kagel himself declares that he does not think of North as particularly cold, the eerie sonorities of the piece certainly conveyed a chill to me. (One wonders what Glenn Gould might have made of the piece.)
Southwest, on the other hand, was full of warmth and rhythm. The lilting syncopation near the beginning was so infectious that I wouldn't have been surprised to see Tango King Astor Piazzola himself stroll onto stage, bandoneon in hand.
Well, actually I would have been surprised, as Piazzola is dead. Doug Schmidt, perhaps, no mean bandeonist himself?
Southwest also featured a number of instruments from the South Pacific, including the angklung - think bamboo pipes you strike rather than blow - and the conch shell - which I'm told is rather less easy to play than one might think - as well as "instruments that are hard to describe."
Well, if the composer can't describe them what chance have I?
Although perhaps less humorous than much of his work, the final gesture of Southwest certainly brought a smile to the face, as Linwood and his ensemble unanimously pointed towards the radio that had, apparently, been sitting in silence next to the piano throughout.
It may or may not have been a coincidence that, from the audience's point of view, said radio was in the South-west corner of the stage.
I have yet to encounter a piece by Doug Schmidt that I did not like, but The Death of Cinderella, whose world premiere opened the concert, may well be the finest yet.
Unfortunately I missed the beginning of Schmidt's pre-concert talk (the problem with living five minutes from the university is that one tends to leave home at the last minute), so I am not entirely sure what was the initial spur, but the work derives from Schmidt's musings on the feelings of one due to be executed.
Dr. Johnson famously remarked "Depend upon it, sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully."
Schmidt ventures to differ: for him those last few days are more likely to be characterised by violent mood swings; taking his text from letters and diary entries written by Ann Boleyn in the days immediately preceding her beheading, Schmidt has produced a work of considerable beauty and power, scored for soprano soloist with violin, viola, cello, bass and percussion.
After the slow-moving chords, with lots of string glissandos, the music begins to pulsate gently, before becoming violently rhythmic. A huge crescendo leads to the soprano's first, piercing entry. From here the violence and a calmer rhythmic feeling alternate.
Susan Young was a first-rate soloist, superbly conveying the sense of the music - as witness the obsessive passage based upon Boleyn's attempts to stop herself pacing the floor. This was one mind which was not concentrated wonderfully.
Schmidt provides us with some stunning sonorities of his own, the most memorable of which was perhaps the combination of the highest register of his accordian with bowed crotales and gently struck piano tuning pegs.
The resultant unearthly (and completely non-directional) sound would, had I not been able to see the players, have had me consulting my doctor about tinnitus.
If I have one major criticism of the work, it is this: it was much too short. In his talk Schmidt said that he was contemplating writing two companion pieces - he should definitely be encouraged to do so.
As usual, Bill Linwood directed his superb ensemble in highly-assured performances which made the most persuasive cases for the music in question.
Another marvellous evening from Aventa.
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