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May 31, 2016
Prolificity does not necessarily equate to popularity. If it did, then Georg Phillip Telemann would be the most popular composer in history. And Gustav Mahler one of the least.
Furthermore, even among composers both prolific and popular, the degree to which their oeuvre is known and loved will vary greatly, as we shall see.
We begin, however, with a composer who was prolific in one sphere but whose output intended specifically for the concert hall is decidedly limited. Albeit hugely popular.
I refer to George Gershwin, whose Rhapsody in Blue provided one of several highlights in Tuesday's concert, a concert which proved to be little but highlights.
Gershwin himself never orchestrated the work's accompaniment, although he did make versions for both solo and duo pianos. The three main versions — the original jazz band from 1924, the "theater orchestra" version from 1926 and the (easily most frequently heard) full orchestral version published in 1942 (although made some years previously) — were all by Ferde Grofé, bandleader Paul Whiteman's pianist and arranger.
Tuesday's performance was of a recent version for wind band by Donald Hunsberger and it was a real treat: the Meridiem Wind Orchestra being able to provide not only the more acerbic jazz-band sound of the original, but also something close to the fuller, lush sound of the full orchestral version, albeit arguably without the danger of gushing sentimentality which a large body of strings can, if not reined in, so easily produce.
Robert Holliston was the superb soloist in a reading which was decidedly unsentimental and not romanticised, and George Corwin directed the ideal accompaniment, from Don Mayer's fine opening clarinet glissando to the resplendent close.
Which is not to say that sheer tonal beauty was ignored; the "big" tune was particularly well-shaped, Holliston provided glittering passagework and the full orchestra produced a sound which was simply gorgeous.
In an age when the Rhapsody is too-often heard in fulsome but saccharine performances this was a much-needed restorative.
Or, to put it more succinctly, I was particularly impressed at how very much like Liberace it wasn't.
Darius Milhaud, Percy Grainger and Dmitri Shostakovich were all active in the twentieth century and each, in his own way, was prolific. Yet their public images could hardly be more different.
Grainger was the oldest of the trio, born in 1882, and is best-known for his folksong collecting and arrangements. Arguably, though, his finest compositions are among his least-often performed: his "Music for an imaginary ballet", The Warriors, largely because of the huge forces required (enormous orchestra, at least three pianos and usually more than one conductor); A Lincolnshire Posy, considered by many to be the finest wind-band music of the twentieth century, also suffers from its extreme difficulty, although as playing standards improve it has begun to achieve its rightful place in the repertoire.
Once again, Corwin directed a performance to treasure, from the spirited opening of Lisbon Sailors Song to the glorious final chords of The Lost Lady Found his players gave their all and were certainly not found wanting.
Tone in Horkstow Grange was excellent and the crescendo through the last verse spine-tingling. (As an aside, it would seem that George Gouldthorpe, who first sang the song — as "John Bowlin'" — to Grainger in July 1906, may have invented the story of the "old miser", "his man that was called John Bowlin'" and "poor old Steeleye Span" out of whole cloth, as researchers have been unable to trace any other account or record of the events described therein, and then set it to the tune of an old naval ballad, "Andrew Rose, the British Sailor".)
Rufford Park Poachers wove its usual sinister, rhythmically-fractured spell; The Brisk Young Sailor (Who Returned To Wed His True Love) was bubbly and highly rhythmic; Lord Melbourne (War Song), despite one or two slight inaccuracies, was appropriately martial and aggressive; and The Lost Lady Found brought the piece to an end with some splendidly realised inner voices and terrific momentum.
A mere decade after Grainger, Darius Milhaud — widely regarded as the twentieth century's most prolific composer (he got as far as Op.443) — was born.
Prolific, yes, but the list of his frequently-performed compositions (and the use of "frequently" is arguably generous) probably extends to no more than a handful of works: principally La Creation du Monde, Scaramouche and Le Boeuf sur le Toit. (Although I do have memories of hearing his, I believe, sixth chamber symphony at the Conservatory some years ago.)
The sheer size and variety of Milhaud's portfolio has probably been his biggest problem: as a composer he can be hard to grasp.
Which made the presence of 1944's Suite française, Op.248, on the programme all the more welcome; doubly so, as his output for wind band is, by his standards, remarkably small.
And I imagine that there would have been a number of audience members who decided, after hearing this wonderfully characterful music so well and idiomatically played, that they needed to investigate Milhaud further.
I especially enjoyed the second movement, Bretagne, a pastoral with slightly acerbic harmonies; the majestic final pages of Alsace Lorraine; and the exuberant final Provence, complete with the farandole rhythm so familiar from Bizet's L'Arlésienne.
The last of our three prolific composers to be born was Dmitri Shostakovich, in 1906.
The composer probably would not complain about the amount of his music played today — most of his symphonies, concertos and string quartets as well as a selection of his other orchestral and chamber music all feature regularly on concert programmes.
But this still leaves a vast amount of orchestral music and scores for films, plays and ballets, including twenty-eight orchestral suites and music for thirty-eight films.
The suite from The Tale of the Priest and of His Workman Balda was composed for a Soviet animated feature film in the mid-1930s. An ominous time for Shostakovich; his denunciation in Pravda in 1936 disrupted his composing and he left the score unfinished. For this reason, among others, the film was never completed and only a six-minute fragment survived the Second World War. After Shostakovich's death, his widow had the surviving music arranged by one of his students, Vadim Bibergan, who also made the wind arrangement performed. The work was first recorded in 2006.
As far as I can ascertain, this may very well have been its first Canadian performance.
To be able to put aside, forever, music of the quality and individuality displayed in Balda demonstrates just how fine a composer Shostakovich truly was; that and the fact that one could have determined the author from any single bar of the music.
A blow-by-blow description of the dozen or so short (some very short) movements would not be particularly enlightening, but I must mention a few outstanding moments: the opening movement, which finds Shostakovich in his "jazz" mood with an enlivening of the Jewish klezmer style; the fourth movement, with its wonderful tenor sax and guitar duo, deliciously played by Steve Thompson and Douglas Hensley; the terpsichorean tintinnabulation of the Bellringers' Dance; the ear-stretching and typically Shostakovich combination of piccolo and contrabassoon in the seventh movement; and so much more.
Unmistakable and unmissable — and I'm so glad that I didn't.
Buxton Daeblitz Orr is hardly a household name and is perhaps better-known for his film music (he composed the score for the 1959 Catherine Hepburn/Elizabeth Taylor movie Suddenly Last Summer as well as a number of horror films, such as the Boris Karloff vehicle Grip of the Strangler).
Although initially destined to become a physician, Orr abandoned medicine for music and spent a quarter of a century teaching at the Guildhall School of Music; he also conducted the London Jazz Orchestra for a decade.
A John Gay Suite is one of a number of pieces Orr composed for wind band; in this case the first three movements were written in 1972 for a summer school wind-band course, the finale added the following year for the Bedfordshire Youth Concert Band. The music utilises themes from The Beggar's Opera, John Gay's immensely popular ballad opera of 1728, most of which were melodies taken from existing folk and other songs.
Michael Keddy, who spent the rest of the evening playing percussion, directed an excellent performance of some really quite tricky music: the opening movement, based on "Lilliburlero", is not only highly syncopated, but in its central section has the tune going at different speeds in different keys, for example.
The whole piece was beautifully played and directed: in the flowing second movement the orchestra produced a quite lovely sound, warm and enveloping; the third movement was enlivened with bubbling flutes and clarinets; the finale, with its frequent tempo changes — very well handled — is perhaps a little episodic and I felt that at the close, in which "Lilliburlero" returns in combination with other melodies, Orr was trying for something similar to the final movement of Vaughan Williams' St. Paul's Suite or the ending of Britten's Young Person's Guide, but could not quite pull it off.
That minor plaint aside, this was most enjoyable music, most enjoyably performed.
Each half of the concert opened with a fanfare. Aaron Copland's Fanfare for the Common Man surely needs no introduction and it made its requisite, almost overwhelming impression. The final crescendo and fading into silence of the tam-tam were especially impressive.
Boyde Hood is a name new to me, a trumpeter, teacher and composer who currently plays with the Los Angeles Philharmonic, his resumé also includes a stint, several decades ago, with the Victoria Symphony.
Sumer-Britania was definitely receiving its Canadian premiere and proved a grand, resonant piece, grandly and yes, resonantly, played.
This was a truly wonderful programme, wonderfully performed by all concerned.
If I have a single criticism of the Meridiem Wind Orchestra, it is their publicity — or lack of same: I knew a number of people in the audience and they had all, without exception, only found out about the concert days — or, in one case, hours — beforehand.
Which is a pity, as playing of this quality needs to be heard and the Meridiems could do much to raise the profile of wind-band music in our city.
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