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Alix Goolden Performance Hall
August 27, 2010
The prospect of a two-hour-no-interval concert of short pieces performed by student musicians of a range of technical proficiency would, at first glance, not necessarily be a enticing one.
And I must admit that, had I known in advance that this was to be the format of Friday evening's concert it is just possible that I might have decided to give the whole affair a miss.
Fortunately and happily I had no such foreknowledge.
It would probably interest few other than the performers themselves (and those of their relatives who just happened to be present) to compile a complete listing of the evening's musical offerings.
I shall instead confine myself to more general comments and a few exemplars which, perforce, must stand for the entire concert. No great qualitative judgements should be read into this, for every single one of the fourteen solo performers had something to offer and they can all be proud of themselves for their contributions.
Not once was I bored or embarrassed on the performer's behalf, but there were undoubtedly some performances and some choices of repertoire that spoke more to me than some others did.
The evening opened with real Vivaldi, in the form of two movements from a cello sonata played (with particularly attractive tone) by Bronwyn LeBlanc, and closed with faux-Vivaldi, in the shape of Palladio by Karl Jenkins, played (with commendable enthusiasm) by the entire student string body directed by Michael van der Sloot. In between we had a variety of music for violin, viola and cello, some of it more securely played, some of it less, but all of it played with commitment.
I thought that, while returning from the backstage washroom before the concert began, I had heard somebody practising La Folia, although that didn't pin down which setting of it would be played - every baroque composer worth his salt (and a few who were not) had a bash at this tune.
In the event it transpired that Julia Hensley (also, according to the programme, occupying two chairs in the first violins) was going to play Corelli's setting, which she did with a baroque bow and a fine sense of when and when not to apply vibrato.
One of the more remarkable performances was that of Haekyo Lee, perhaps the youngest player of the evening, although I cannot be certain of that, who played the Scene de Ballet by de Bériot (no, not the first man to fly across the English Channel, but the famed 19th century Belgian violin virtuoso, composer and teacher).
The Scene is a scintillating showcase which Lee performed (from memory) with all the virtuosity and swagger one could desire.
The viola is a favourite instrument of mine and so I was glad that three of Friday's performers were violists: Emil Herle whose jaunty performance of Brahms's fifth Hungarian Dance was distinguished by a very personal sense of rubato; Georgia Viogeli, with an impassioned account of Bloch's Nigun and Natasha Galitzine who gave a confident, flowing and very-well-tuned performance of a movement from a concerto by Telemann.
The solo contributions ended with two cellists playing two movements from the two Brahms sonatas. If Chloe Kersen's playing of the first movement of the E minor, Op.38 sounded, to my ears, less "Brahmsian" than Charles Cayer's adagio affetuoso from the F major, Op.99 - well those opus numbers may tell part of the story.
I also enjoyed Cayer's (yes, he is the brother of MiV's Gabriel) repertoire of facial expressions - don't get me wrong, I am quite prepared to accept that these are not intentional nor even voluntary, as witness Glenn Gould's legendary humming - particularly the one where he raised his eyes to the ceiling and was seemingly surprised at whatever caught his gaze.
If there was a single performance, though, which best combined a great piece of music with a fine, well-thought out approach it was Jordan Vermes's of the opening movement of the Franck A major sonata: confident and very sympathetic.
Of course, all of these pieces required keyboard accompaniment. Robert Holliston, playing the harpsichord for the opening three items and subsequently the piano, and Elfie Gleusteen were highly accomplished and sympathetic. And with less skilled hands, those moments where the soloist dropped the occasional beat (or bar!), rushed at a passage or slowed down because of technical difficulty, would have stood out like the proverbial sore thumb, instead of passing (practically) unnoticed.
The final two items involved the entire student body as string ensemble. This cannot have been easy for those musicians who had not played earlier - they were sitting among the audience and had no chance to warm up at all. (This is only the second concert I have ever been at where a goodly proportion of the audience suddenly left their seats and made for the stage - I'll tell you about the other one some other time.)
Which is probably why the intonation for the first few bars of Grieg's Last Spring was, frankly, grimace-inducing. Matters swiftly improved, however, and Michael van der Sloot directed an affectionate performance, with a real ripeness at the climax.
Finally "that" piece, Palladio by Karl Jenkins (or "Jenkinson" as the programme had it - I think I rather like this alternative actually).
This is music (I suppose we must grant it that) which, for many, will summon up visions of a fast car driving alongside flaming vegetation at night - the whole thing, for some reason, advertising diamonds (don't ask me why).
Shorn of the visual images, Jenkinson's (yes, I do like it) music seems rather less interesting, comprising little more than a handful of standard (one might say clichéd) patterns from Vivaldi, with little variation. I am tempted to say - no, I shall say - that it is an insult to the memory of two great Italians, Vivaldi and the great architect for whom the piece is named - one presumes, unless Jenkinson just liked the sound of the word.
To say that I was not expecting profundity from this music would be to understate the case. However, van der Sloot and his student body played it with vitality, style and even, at moments, a certain excitement.
The point, in case I have failed to make myself sufficiently clear, is that the whole evening, despite my (obvious) lack of sympathy with some of the music, was made enjoyable by the infectious enthusiasm of its participants. Perhaps some of them will go on to become professional musicians, perhaps some will end up playing in community orchestras; whatever the case, their lives will surely be enriched by their contact with great music.
I am glad the string academy is back and in safe hands.
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