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University Centre Auditorium
January 25, 2013
The 1977 edition of The Penguin Stereo Record Guide lists recordings of just three works by Ernest Chausson; and, of those, two (the Symphony and the song-cycle Poème de l'amour et de la mer) have but a single version to their credit. Only the Poème for violin and orchestra is represented multiple times.
By contrast, a quick search on Amazon this morning, reveals well over 200 Chausson recordings currently available.
At long last, or so it would seem, Chausson is better known for his music than for his untimely and bizarre death.
It was with a resplendent performance of Chausson's Poème that Friday's excellent Concerto Concert opened.
Jiten Beairsto's first solo entry was beautifully judged: confident, even suave, but not overstated. Throughout the work - which, it must be admitted, does tend to ramble a little - Beairsto showed an excellent tone and a fine sense of drama, especially in the long unaccompanied passages.
Ajtony Csaba drew some lovely, almost lush sounds from the orchestra - in which faculty and their students combined - in support.
Certainly a performance to help one understand why this work has never lost its place in the repertoire.
Given my well-known aversion to singers and vocal music, it came as something of a surprise that, of all the music on the programme, it should have been the next item, Ravel's Shéhérazade which made the greatest impression on me.
But then, as Oscar Wilde put it: I have simple tastes, I am always satisfied with the best.
Which should not be taken as any kind of slur on the evening's other soloists - all four were truly excellent - but the Ravel was clearly (to my ears, at any rate) the finest piece of music on the programme,
Ally that to a wonderful voice and a thoroughly expressive performance and you have a winning formula.
Erin Ronningen is a true mezzo-soprano, neither a contralto straining for the upper reaches of the part, nor a soprano "slumming it". And she most certainly knows how to use her instrument, whether it was in the exoticism of Asie, the delectable La flûte enchantée or the chilling L'indifférent, one felt little need of the texts (but full marks for providing them and translations in the programme), so expressive was her singing.
Ravel's almost transparent orchestration pointedly showed the difference between the competence of Chausson and his own genius, and the accompaniment was worth the price of entry alone. (As, indeed, was flutist Suzanne Snizek in the second movement.)
But I was glad this was not the last item on the agenda: I should not wish to have walked out into the cold night air with the bleakness of L'indifférent still ringing in my ears, it was that affecting.
Frank Martin composed some half-a-dozen works entitled Ballade, for various solo instruments with either piano or orchestra.
The Ballade for flute was composed in 1939 with piano accompaniment; in 1941 Martin reworked the accompaniment for strings - and piano.
There were occasions when it sounded as if he had merely forgotten to remove the piano part when adding strings, but that occasional quirkiness did nothing to detract from the performance of Sabrina Sun, which was full of life and character.
The flute is an instrument which, in the wrong hands, can sound bland; Sun's were manifestly the right hands and, although I cannot say I found the music especially memorable, Sun's playing certainly was.
Rachmaninov's Piano Concerto No.1 is a relatively early work; one might say that it dates from the time before the composer discovered the possibilities of adding a little sugar to the mixture. Unfortunately, his two best-known, and best-loved, concertos, the second and third, have sufficient sugar that, in the hands of the wrong soloist or conductor, the heat of performance can turn it to syrup. And I think we have run that analogy into the ground.
The First Concerto, we might say, is "lo-fat" Rachmaninov, but don't think, for one moment, that this means the solo part is any the less taxing.
After the work's dramatic opening, soloist Daniel Jordan tossed the big chords and rapid passagework off almost insouciantly - technique was certainly not a concern.
Although the second movement does not provide any of those Hollywood moments which infuse the second and third concertos, Jordan displayed some exquisite tone colours - as, indeed, did the accompaniment.
The finale - of course - opened (and closed) with a bang and there was plenty to enjoy in between, even if, ultimately, the work lacks any of those once-heard-never-forgotten melodies which were to become a Rachmaninov specialty.
Four superb soloists with orchestral accompaniment to match: what more could one ask for? (Apart from a more timely arrival of this review, that is...)
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