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Alix Goolden Performance Hall
October 26, 2019
"The Briton does you justice, the Frenchman admires you, but only the German can love you. You are his own, a bright day in his life, a drop of his blood, a particle of his heart".
The words were uttered by Richard Wagner at the reburial ceremony, in 1844 at the Alten Katholischen Friedhof in Dresden, of Carl Maria von Weber, whose remains had been transferred from London, where he had died just months short of his fortieth birthday, in 1826.
Considering that the nation of Canada did not exist in 1844, we can hardly blame Wagner (guilty though he may be of many other transgressions) for ignoring the Canadian's reaction to Weber. So, as a Canadian former Briton, I shall try to do him justice, at the very least.
Somewhat unexpectedly, for me (see below), Weber's Clarinet Quintet proved to be the highlight of Saturday night's concert. Erich Hoeprich joined the London Haydn Quartet for a delightful performance of what is, for many, one of the three great works for this combination (the others being, of course, the quintets of Mozart and Brahms, even if, personally, I should add Reger's to that illustrious group).
The string introduction was silky-smooth and Hoeprich's clarinet (a replica of the boxwood, ten-key instrument used by Heinrich Bauermann, who inspired all four of Weber's works for the instrument and who, in addition, wrote three quintets himself) was indeed the icing on the cake: a truly delectable tone — his low, chalumeau register was particularly gorgeous — and a quite remarkable agility.
The opening movement was especially lively and the thematic material characteristic of the composer (having heard the Victoria Symphony play the overture to Der Freischütz only three weeks ago reinforced this); and the way the performance slid into the recapitulation was simply exquisite.
The somewhat sombre slow movement brought forth some truly miraculous pianissimo playing from all five musicians; the minuet was vivacious, the trio was especially lovely, and the ending was a delight.
The finale, with its galloping rhythm, was very jolly and its close brought the audience to their feet.
Unlike the Mozart and the Brahms, Weber's "Grand" quintet is a more concertante work and this has been suggested as the reason it is performed less frequently, string players wanting to do more than "merely" accompany; this is the only performance of the Weber that I can recall hearing in Victoria, as opposed to multiple renditions of the other two. I am also on record as not caring overmuch for the music of Weber.
Having said which, this was a performance both to challenge my own previous opinion of the composer and also to make one regret that it is not heard more frequently.
A veritable triumph.
In the Royal Albert Hall in London there is a notorious "dead spot" where, due to various reflections of the sound coming off the stage, all of the life is sucked out of the music. Having been caught there once — it may have been over half a century ago, but still lingers in the mind — I can attest to its presence.
What I had not realised is that the Alix Goolden Hall is capable of its own disfiguration of the sound, if one is seated in the "right" (for which read "wrong") position.
This became clear to me during the first half which, featuring quartets by two composers whose music is essential to my well-being — Haydn and Beethoven — which I had expected to enjoy far more than the Weber.
However, tempted by the relatively small size of the audience, I sat closer to the stage than usual and it was soon apparent that there was something amiss: namely that the sound of first violinist Catherine Manson seemed to be emanating from the ceiling directly over my head. I suspect that there was some critical path between where she was sitting and where I was, as, although I have quite often experienced instrumental sounds in the hall seeming to emanate from some distance away from the performer, I had never encountered this phenomenon in quite such a distressing fashion previously.
At the very least, try as I might to ignore it, this was intensely distracting. However I also realised, after moving back several rows for the second half of the evening, that the idiosyncrasies of the acoustic in question also added a less-than-pleasant edge to the sound, more redolent of early music ensembles of the early 1970s, particularly of the violins. This was completely absent during the Weber, hence my certainty that it was positionally-dependent.
All of which means that I have no confidence in what I heard during Haydn's "Lark" quartet (a personal favourite) or Beethoven's Op.18 No.1.
So, despite immaculate ensemble, the opening movement of the "Lark" struck me as being, not just steady but actually too slow. But I am not convinced that it would have done had I been seated elsewhere, I can easily imagine that the slight delay of the reflected sound could have made the music seem to drag.
I shall, therefore, concentrate on the virtues of the performances while ignoring, what seemed at the time, their shortcomings.
The concentration on display in the slow movement of the Haydn, for instance, immediatly springs to mind, also the occasional discreet use of portamento; the clearly-articulated finale, in which the players commendably refused to show that they could play the music faster than any other quartet which, judging by some performances, is a clear and present temptation.
There was, I noted, nothing showy about this, which, to my mind, is a considerable compliment.
When it came to the Beethoven, the quartet was presented as clearly a continuation of Haydn's work, but also by one with a distinct and fresh voice; the music was seemingly viewed more in contrast with what had come before, rather than as an augury of what was to come.
So the opening movement was at times fierce, but never ferocious; the slow movement possessed a marvellous hushed intensity, with the minor key section weighty, but not overdone: this was most definitely early, not late Beethoven.
The scherzo was clearly not a minuet and had an infectiously puckish bounce, while the slightly jesting air of the finale once again pointed the connection to Haydn.
To sum up: I left the hall extremely pleased that I had attended the concert, while simultaneously wishing that I had sat somewhere — anywhere — else during the first half.
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