MiV Home
Teechamista Theatre, Royal Bay High School
October 29, 2016
"At three a.m. I was walking the floor and listening to Khachaturian working in a tractor factory. He called it a violin concerto. I called it a loose fan belt and the hell with it." [Footnote]
Raymond Chandler's The Long Goodbye was published in 1953, only thirteen years after Khachaturian's violin concerto was first performed, which means that Philip Marlowe was surprisingly well-informed, for a private detective, on the status of contemporary music.
Interestingly, it is difficult to ascertain precisely which recording he owned — and the likelihood of a US radio station broadcasting such music at such an hour does seem somewhat remote — as even the first edition of Clough and Cuming's World Encyclopedia of Recorded Music — published in 1952, but covering only up to 1951 — has details of two recordings of the piece; and by the time of the second supplement, in 1955, this had increased to six. We can probably venture a small wager, however, that it was the recording made by Louis Kaufman with the Santa Monica Symphony under Jacques Rachmilovich (household names every one, although Kaufman, perhaps the most recorded musician of the twentieth century, certainly deserves to be) given the proximity of Santa Monica to Marlowe's Los Angeles.
Clearly Khachaturian's violin concerto has almost dropped off the radar since the heady days of its youth: I had never attended a performance prior to this one and cannot even recall seeing one advertised.
Which means that Kevin Chen, winner of this year's Don Chrysler Concerto Competition, must really believe in the work, to have spent the necessary time learning a piece that he is unlikely to be invited to perform with any frequency.
Moreover, as rapidly became evident in his performance, Chen has done far more than merely learn the notes (and what a lot of them there are!), his performance was masterly, confident and superbly played.
After a decidedly determined orchestral introduction, Chen's motoric initial entry was wonderfully assured, even swaggering; he also summoned forth a full, rich tone for the more lyrical second subject. Although the music is somewhat discursive, Chen's playing (and the accompaniment, of which more later) held the attention effortlessly. Even the rather lengthy cadenza did not seem so and the orchestral pickup was seamless.
The slow movement's slightly sinister opening featured some exquisitely orchestrated music: bassoon and cellos, then clarinet and violas. The delicious cantilena of the solo line was spun out over a very slow waltz-like accompaniment, accelerating to a pair of huge climaxes, in which the composer's Armenian heritage is most apparent, before subsiding to a lyrical close. Perhaps the best movement and very well played by all concerned.
The finale opens with an arresting tutti and is, throughout, very lively, if a little mindless. Chen made the most of his part's playfulness, the music bounced along in its syncopated fashion and it was all great fun, if not particularly — or, indeed, at all — profound.
Norman Nelson and his orchestra coped extremely well with a tricky, unfamiliar work (and I gather that the conductor's score left a great deal to be desired in terms of clarity): one would have been hard put to tell that they had never played it before, to the extent that, when the light on conductor Norman Nelson's music stand failed, principal cellist Trevor MacHattie leapt into action and subsituted the light from his own stand; it was done so smoothly that there was no interruption to the music at all and I imagine anyone listening with eyes closed would never have known that anything untoward had occurred.
I do not know if this music has ever previously been played in Victoria; assuming this was its local premiere, it is hard to imagine a more persuasive debut.
I had heard rumours that the difficulties of the Khachaturian meant that it had received the lion's share of the rehearsal time. While this paid dividends in that work, it meant that the final item on the programme, Tchaikovsky's Symphony No.4, was perhaps slightly ragged at the edges, although I'd far rather hear Nelson and the Sooke Phil playing at (say) ninety-five percent than many another orchestra and conductor at their best.
The symphony certainly opened with its customary bang and the horns — indeed, the brass generally — were very fine throughout. Nelson's tempos were well-chosen and where he departed from the customary, as in his extreme decelerando before the main theme of the first movement appeared, it was all the more effective.
The slow movement opened with a fine oboe solo from Jackie Kereluk, although here, as elsewhere, string intonation could have been a little tauter.
The wonderful pizzicato scherzo fizzed along, with a slight hiccup in ensemble glared back into line by Nelson, and the perkiness of the winds and brass brought a smile to the face.
The opening of the finale was almost restrained, which came as something of a surprise, but Nelson knew exactly what he was doing, namely gradually increasing the tension throughout the movement until its final tumultuous coda. A typical Nelson touch, beautifully managed.
I hope I don't give the wrong impression, because I greatly enjoyed it, but I'm tempted to say that this was a great peformance struggling to get out — and very nearly succeeding.
The concert opened with Mikhail Glinka's "greatest hit", the overture to his opera Russlan and Ludmilla. Here Nelson resisted the temptation to attempt to outpace the Leningrad Philharmonic and adopted a fairly steady tempo, with clean lines, plenty of bounce and a particularly good singing cello tone for the big tune.
A most enjoyable evening and the treat of a genuine rarity. What more could one ask?
Footnote: Yes, I have indeed been waiting almost a quarter of a century for the opportunity to use this quote.
MiV Home