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Dave Dunnet Community Theatre, Oak Bay High School
May 5, 2019
The Scottish composer Ronald Stevenson once observed that there are two approaches to completing a work left unfinished by its composer; he likened them to reconstructing a ruined cathedral, which could either be achieved by reproducing the original in every possible detail, or by constructing a new building incorporating the ruins of the old. The former approach was taken in the rebuilding of the Frauenkirche in Dresden, the latter in the construction of the new Coventry Cathedral, both largely destroyed by fire during the war.
Stevenson made his observation in connection with Ferrucio Busoni's Fantasia Contrappuntistica, a work built around the final, unfinished, fugue from Bach's Die Kunst der Fuge. We might also observe that most, if not all, of the putative completions of Mozart's Requiem, Bruckner's 9th Symphony and Mahler's 10th have been essayed by musicologists and that a great composer would probably not have been able to submerge his musical personality to the same degree (almost certainly the reason both Arnold Schoenberg and Dmitri Shostakovich declined Jack Diether's request that they complete the Mahler symphony).
Like Busoni's work, Luciano Berio's Rendering falls into the second category of "reconstruction", being based on the sketches which Schubert left for his last, uncompleted symphony. Schubert left only a piano sketch, with some indications of orchestration, and the sketch was not identified until the 1970s. The situation is further complicated by the intermingling of counterpoint exercises in the third movement, which many have viewed as being related to the single lesson which Schubert had with Simon Sechter just weeks before his death. (Parenthetically, one might note that Sechter's most famous pupil was Anton Bruckner, arguably Schubert's true symphonic heir, and that after Haydn and Nadia Boulanger, Sechter probably was probably more influential than any other teacher of composition).
Rendering is a remarkable work: those passages (much of the first two movements) which survive directly from the sketches sound completely Schubertian, and Berio's use of the orchestra never strikes a false note.
But, when the sketch has gaps, Berio fills them with music which may quote from the existing score, but those quotes are embedded within textures which one can only describe as "phantasmagorical" and which could only have been written in the twentieth century and only by Berio.
For at least one listener, Rendering was the unquestioned highlight of Saturday night's concert by the Victoria Symphony under the direction of guest conductor Jean-Claude Picard.
The opening left the identity of the composer in no doubt, there was a marvellous "lift" to the rhythms and the cello-led second subject was quite delicious. Even without the signalling of their arrival by the celesta (the always exceptional Tzenka Dianova) Berio's own interludes were unmistakable and other-worldly. Listening to Rendering it is easy to imagine that one has dozed off during a Schubert symphony and awoken during a completely different work.
Until the sketch returns in all its glory, as it did for the coda, with noble trombones leading to a very nippy conclusion.
The slow movement was distinguished by some exquisite wind playing, with Michael Byrne's oboe summoning memories of the "Great" C major symphony.
The third movement is a combined scherzo and finale (coincidentally, some eighty years later, Sibelius would come up with a similar structure — three movements, with the last combining scherzo and finale — in his third symphony); the opening was spritely and vivacious, before the cellos then violas give us a jaunty melody and Schubert begins to flex his contrapuntal muscles, which were already well-developed.
Overall Picard directed a performance which had a fine Schubertian touch and appropriate weight, with the emphasis on lyricism.
One of the highlights of the musical year thus far.
The evening opened with Ana Sokolović's Concert for Orchestra. I must admit that I struggled to find any traces of either Rossini or Beethoven, from whom she says she "drew my inspiration", having said which the music was most engaging, from the plangent winds and strings of the opening through to the decidedly un-triumphant fading away of the final chords.
Along the way were some highly rhythmic, very busy passages; some pounding ostinatos and asymmetrically accented trombones (think Les Augures printaniers from the Rite of Spring) and even some lyricism.
Again Picard led a fine performance, although, for me, Sokolović is more successful with smaller ensembles than with the full orchestra.
Having not especially enjoyed the Flute Concerto by Jacques Hétu when it was performed by the National Arts Centre Orchestra over a quarter of a century ago, I was not particularly looking forward to his Légends.
Oh me of little faith!
The work proved to be immensely enjoyable (perhaps Hétu was having an off day when he wrote the concerto), tuneful and full of life.
Légends, as the title suggests, is based on three Quebec legends, all with suitably quirky names, and the music matches them perfectly.
Alexis le Trotteur (be honest, how could you not love music with titles like this?) describes a real figure from the Saguenay region, who believed himself to be a horse and could run faster than "horses, bicycles, cars or trains" (I'm assuming this was some decades ago, when the last two were considerably slower than today) and opened the piece in propulsive fashion, before Russell Bajer's English horn led the orchestra in a merry jig. I see that in my notebook, I described the abrupt ending with the term "Wham-O" which, though hardly the Queen's (or, indeed, anybody else's) English is nevertheless, I believe, not far off the mark.
Writing an orchestral waltz is a brave thing to do, when you are following in the footsteps of Berlioz, Tchaikovsky and, of course, both Strausses. Not to mention Ravel.
But Le Diable au bal is precisely this, although, in keeping with its subject matter, the waltz itself, a delightful melody, introduced by oboe and tremolando strings, has a distinctly sinister accompaniment. Even without the movement's title, you just know that this story is not going to end well.
Finally, La Chasse-Galerie ("The Enchanted Canoe", apparently, although Google translate prefers "The Gallery Hunt") which included a superb string fugato and ending with raucous dancing.
The entire work was brilliantly performed and a total delight. It has forced me to completely re-evaluate my opinion of Hétu.
What can I say about the evening's eponymous work, Nicole Lizée's Bondarsphere?
Well, the capsule review would be simply to say that I did not like it, although that is perhaps understating the case. Certainly I had no idea what the music was supposed to be about, despite the extensive programme note.
The piece is framed in eight "movements", representing the eight days which Bondar spent in space, each preceded by fragment of recorded speech, some of Bondar herself, others including a news item read by Peter Mansbridge.
What baffled me, was the relevance of the music of each movement to the preceding speech, even though we are assured by the composer that these were "captured and shaped into musical building blocks: stretched, pitchshifted, spliced and woven together to create themes, basso continuos, chants, canons, and chorales with which the live orchestra engages — colouring, enhancing, and harmonizing." (I give Lizée credit for spelling "colouring" the Canadian way, but I'm afraid she loses marks for the Oxford comma.)
That is as may be, but I'm afraid that it escaped me almost completely. My notebook contains phrases unfit for publication on a family-oriented (you hadn't realised?) website like this; but overall I found the music tedious and lacking in anything resembling development, being, as I wrote at the time, essentially a series of more-or-less uninteresting episodes. I was moved to wonder, though, whether my citizenship might be revoked if I say how very much I didn't enjoy the music.
Picard led what one must presume was a fine performance and at the end he congratulated the orchestra on their playing, saying that the music was far from easy.
Indeed, yet I was put in mind of a remark made by the great conductor Wilhelm Furtwängler to the then up-and-coming Rafael Kubelik, after the latter's performance of Mahler's Fifth Symphony. Furtwängler, never a great fan of Mahler's symphonies (although he continued to conduct the orchestral song-cycles for his entire career) simply said "that was very well done, but was it really worth the effort?"
But Bondarsphere was the shortest item of the evening (even if it did not feel like it) and the rest was truly outstanding.
And, as the old saying has it, three out of four ain't bad.
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