MiV Home
Phillip T Young Recital Hall
January 17, 2019
"Soon Casals suggested a little music, and called for a Brahms two-viola quintet. I was immediately requisitioned, and the five players,Thibaud, Kochanski, Rebecca Clarke, Casals and myself launched into a con amore performance I shall not easily forget..."
Sir Eugene Goossens was describing a musical evening at the studio of Muriel and Paul Draper, an evening which "started to break up only when the London dawn filtered through the skylight".
Rebecca Clarke had been the Royal College of Music's first female student and had, while still in her twenties, been one of the first women to be admitted to full membership of a professional London Orchestra (Sir Henry Wood's Queen's Hall Orchestra). Clearly she mixed in the most exalted musical company as an equal.
Only a few years later, during her first sojourn in the United States, Clarke also established her credentials as a first-rate composer with her only sonata for her own instrument.
Clarke's Viola Sonata was begun in Honolulu in 1918 and completed in Detroit on 3 July 1919; it was written, pseudonymously, for the 1919 Coolidge competition, where it tied with Ernst Bloch's Suite for Viola. Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge broke the tie and awarded first prize to Bloch.
Under the rules of the competition, only the name of the winner was to have been revealed, but the jury insisted on knowing who the runner-up was. The winning piece, they said, was the work of a philosopher, the other that of a poet. "And you should have seen their faces," said Mrs. Coolidge, "when they saw it was by a woman!"
Of course, not everybody was convinced; as Clarke was to write herself: "And when I had that one little whiff of success that I've had in my life, with the Viola Sonata, the rumor went around, I hear, that I hadn't written the stuff myself..."
To anybody with ears and without prejudice, Clarke's sonata, which formed the centrepiece of Thursday's outstanding recital by Clayton Leung and Lisa Tahara, is the work of a serious and seriously-talented composer, regardless of gender.
The opening movement, with its dramatic introduction, almost hurtled along, fully justifying the tempo indication of impetuoso; the slower, central section made it clear precisely where the composer was born, with some very English viola figurations.
The second movement was perky and full of character and life, complete with delightfully throwaway ending. The finale, serious with a rhapsodic central section, struck me as a little discursive, but blame the music or me, not the musicians who were, as they were all night, superb.
All of the composers in the first half of the programme were born in England; like Clarke, Stephen Brown also emigrated, but in his case (sensible fellow) it was to Canada rather than the United States.
Brown's Sonata for Viola and Piano was completed in 2016 and the second movement was receiving its premiere in this recital.
Like every other piece I have heard by the composer, this was highly attractive, melodic music, from the lovely viola cantilena, supported by slow piano chords, to the ethereal harmonics of the close. The composer, who was present, seemed very pleased with the performance, which certainly made at least one listener eager to hear the rest. Particularly the movement inspired by the music of Lou Reed and the Velvet Underground (I admit to be slightly taken aback that Leung admitted he had never heard of Reed or one of the most seminal bands in rock history.)
Frank Bridge's Two Pieces for Viola and Piano opened the evening and the two players immediately impressed: Leung with his big, rich tone and Tahara with her delectable tone colours.
The first piece was rhapsodic (as seems to be the case with so much English music before 1939) and the second serious and contemplative, with a big central outburst which allowed both players to demonstrate the dynamic range of which they are capable.
Vaughan Williams' Romance was premiered in 1962, four years after the composer's death. But this was not because it was a late piece, rather that it was one of a large number of undated works found in his library after he passed away.
Leung and Tahara were exquisite in the long crescendo from the opening to the big double-stopped climax, before the music died away to its lovely, muted close.
For many people of my ("certain") age, the name Efrem Zimbalist (admittedly with "Junior" appended) summons up the names of two TV series from the 1950s and 60s, "77 Sunset Strip" and "FBI".
It was only when I was a few years older (I hesitate to say "more mature") that I realised why this Efrem Zimbalist was "Junior": because his father was, at least to music-lovers, rather better-known in his various rôles as virtuoso violinist — he made what may have been the first recording of Bach's Concerto for Two Violins in 1915, with no less a partner than Fritz Kreisler — composer, teacher and Director of the Curtis Institute.
I confess that I had never encountered any of Zimbalist Senior's own composition before this, but his Tango from Sasateana proved a delight; less louche than Piazzolla, it was nonetheless highly rhythmically flexible (with lots of lovely glissando from Leung) and great fun. The pair's ensemble was immaculate, all the more impressive in view of some of the more extreme rubato in which they indulged, and I loved the showy ending.
Max Bruch's Romance was charming; not profound, but highly enjoyable and played with dedication and total conviction.
Tahara played one solo: Debussy's perennially popular Clair de lune and her pellucid tonal palette and poised pianism were perfect for the music.
George Gershwin's Three Preludes (he originally planned twenty-four, completed seven, performed five, but published just the three) were composed for his own instrument, the piano, but have been arranged for everything from violin and piano to full orchestral by way of flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon and horn; and mixed chorus.
So performing them in this configuration is hardly extraordinary, moreover, the performances themselves were excellent: the exuberant first, the lush-toned second — clearly from the same pen which brought us "Summertime" — and the bouncily syncopated third.
Finally three short pieces by Paul Coletti, born in 1959 and a name new to me. From My Heart was songlike and heartfelt; Blue Tango, after its sombre piano introduction, was plaintively wistful, although I'm not convinced it actually was a tango and it did ramble somewhat. The final Circus though, was fast and furious, moto-perpetuo-like and ended with a bang, or, to be precise, with Tahara assaulting the keyboard with what I believe the wrestling fraternity calls a "forearm smash".
A truly rewarding evening, which reinforced my own love for the viola (the piano I have always been fond of).
Indeed, it makes me wonder if the reason the viola is the butt of so many jokes is actually envy...
MiV Home