Monday musings on Australian literature: Contemporary poetry and music

telegrams tremble like leaves from a wintering tree
and the spider grief swings in his bitter geometry
– they’re bringing them home, now, too late, too early.
(from “Homecoming” by Bruce Dawe)

Last night I was lucky enough to attend a private function at which a small, local, male a capella group, the Pocket Score Company, performed. Their repertoire is primarily early music (medieval and Renaissance) but last night they also sang one modern composition set to a poem by Australian poet Bruce Dawe. The poem, bitterly titled “Homecoming” (1968), is about the bodies of soldiers being brought home from Vietnam. The composer is, I believe, Philip Griffin. As far as I can work out, he was born in England, grew up in Western Australia and now lives in New Zealand but info about him is pretty minimal.

My main point here, though, is not Philip Griffin but the close relationship between poetry and music. I often hear people who love to read say they’d like to read poetry, particularly contemporary poetry, but find it difficult … and it sure can be, but, set to music, poetry can suddenly become way more comprehensible. There is a lot of synergy between poetry and music – just think ballads, for a start – and I have touched on the poetry-music relationship in past posts on musical ensembles. Today, though, I decided to do a quick Internet search to see what else I could find. One exciting idea I discovered was the Pure Poetry Project  which was established by Bronwyn Blaiklock and the Ballarat Writers Inc.

The first Pure Poetry event occurred in 2004 and focused on the performance of new poetry and new music rather than expressly requiring a crossover between the two. However, this year, it was decided to specifically encourage integration between the two art forms:

selected poets and composers have been asked to write specific new works in a two-part process. In the first part composers have been asked to musically respond to recently written poems, whilst poets have been asked to respond to recently composed works. The second part of the process is more of a direct collaboration where poet and composer work together to create a new work. (Anthony Lyons, composer)

The recital took place in May this year, in Ballarat. It sounds like an exciting event and I would love to have been there.

Australian poet Les Murray, photographed at hi...

Les Murray, 2004 (Courtesy: Brian Jenkins, using CC-BY 3.0, via Wikipedia)

Another exciting project combining contemporary poetry and music is that between The Song Company (whom I’ve reviewed here before) and Australian poet Les Murray, in which composers from around the world have set selected Murray poems to music. One of the composers, Andrew Ford, asked Murray many years ago about an early collaboration with the Song Company and his view on the relationship between poetry and music. Murray said:

… My wife’s very musical, and some of the family are, and I think all of the Murrays believe that music was the art that mattered. I’ve always had rather a poor ear I think and tried to make music out of words. But I have this instinct to stretch words out to the edge, where they start crumbling away in music. […] I’d love to write a good song, and particularly a good hymn before I check out of this profession. But yes, we’re all hovering on the edge of music, we’re always hovering on the edge of all the other arts I guess. Dance, for one; a lot of dance underlies poetry.

Finally, another musical ensemble I have reviewed here before, the Griffyn Ensemble, also regularly performs modern poetry set to music, and sometimes poetry recited alongside music, at their concerts.

None of these ideas are new of course. Poetry has been set to music for centuries and it clearly still is – but it can be hard to find, party because it may not be promoted as such. I’d love to hear of other collaborations and events, in Australia or elsewhere.

The illicit passions of Griffyns

Musical instruments at the Belconnen Arts Centre

The instruments await their players

Ha! That got you in didn’t it? Or, didn’t it? It’s been a while since I wrote about a music event. That’s not because I haven’t been to any but because I’m no expert and prefer not to put that on show too often. However, the Griffyn Ensemble is a young, talented ensemble and deserve, I think, to be recognised, encouraged and promoted – and so here I am again, talking about a musical evening.

I have written about the ensemble before but, just to recap, it is a small chamber ensemble which likes to push chamber music into unexpected directions. That includes composing and/or arranging music themselves, premiering the works of other contemporary composers, playing non-chamber music in a more-or-less chamber setting and, sometimes, even, playing chamber music. The concert we attended this weekend was titled Illicit Passions:

From Baroque to Rock ‘n Roll, The Griffyn Ensemble returns with inflamed desires and rapture, performing music exploring the sordid side of love with songs inspired by carnal lust, women of the night and tortured romance, and featuring stories from Ancient Greece to a surreal future. (from the programme)

Sounds a bit like the kitchen-sink, doesn’t it? And, in some senses it was, but this is a group that likes to take its audience “on a journey” rather than, as their musical director Michael Sollis said at the concert, “just playing pieces”.

The ensemble currently comprises:

  • Michael Sollis, Musical director and composer
  • Kiri Sollis, Flute (etc)
  • Matthew O’Keeffe, Clarinet (etc)
  • Wyana Etherington, Percussionist
  • Carly Brown, French Horn
  • Meriel Owen, Harp
  • Susan Ellis, Soprano

Because it is such an eclectic group of musicians, their concerts tend to provide opportunities to showcase individuals though solo and small group performances. And so at this concert we had, for example, Meriel Owen premiering, on the celesta, an intriguing piece composed by Sollis, titled “Letter to a Greek Nymph”; Kiri Sollis and Meriel Owen playing Debussy’s sublime “Prelude à l’après d’un faune”; Matthew O’Keeffe and Kiri Sollis playing a gorgeous rendition of “Send in the clowns“; and Susan Ellis singing, from the back of the room, a heart-rending a capella interpretation of Tori Amos‘ “Me and a gun“. There were also some very entertaining rounds of 18th century drinking songs sung by Michael Sollis, Wyana Etherington and Meriel Owen, and a whole lot more music, ranging from Beethoven to The Police! The concert concluded with a mesmerising (and unfamiliar to me) arrangement of Bob Dylan’s “Forever Young” sung by Ellis, accompanied by Etherington.

The programming was a little odd – but entertaining for all that. I’m not sure how “Forever Young” fits into the theme of “illicit passions” but it could I suppose suggest the “surreal future” referred to in the programme notes. The programme sequencing took us on a bit of a wild ride in which the connections were not always completely clear. But – and this is a big but – the performers played (and sang) beautifully and I do like music programming that’s innovative, that challenges we audiences to think about what we’re hearing and why. There’s joy in this ensemble – even when the music is sombre.

Silver moon upon the deep dark sky,
Through the vast night pierce your rays.
(From “Song to the moon”, by Antonin Dvorak)

… sang Ellis, early in the second half. Some 30 minutes or so later, we went out into the dark sky, gladdened that we have such an ensemble in our town.


Introducing the Griffyn Ensemble

Griffin from Throne Room, Knossos

A painted Griffin, Knossos (Courtesy: Paginazero, via Wikipedia, using CC-BY-SA 3.0 Unported)

The Griffyn Ensemble is an exciting chamber music ensemble based right here in our (that is downunder’s) national capital. The ensemble is named, in a fun wordplay, after Walter Burley Griffin, Canberra’s designer, and the mythical beast (the griffin, gryffin, or gryphon).

The group  was founded in December 2006 and its members are mostly, I believe, graduates of the ANU’s School of Music. It has had various make-ups over time including violin, viola and cello, but it currently comprises:

  • Kiri Sollis – Flute
  • Matthew O’Keeffe – Clarinet
  • Carly Brown – Horn
  • Laura Tanata – Harp
  • Wyana Etherington – Percussion
  • Susan Ellis – Soprano
  • Michael Sollis – Musical director and composer

Fascinating line-up eh? And the result is that they play some rather fascinating music – which focuses on the 20th and 21st centuries. The music, for those of us who have not had a lot of exposure to more contemporary classical music, can be a little obscure. But that’s fine with me, because I like to be introduced to more modern works as well as hear the old favourites, just as I love to read classic novels alongside the latest literary release.

Tales from Heaven and Hell

We’ve heard members of the ensemble a couple of times before, but on Saturday night we went to a concert performed by the current full ensemble at the lovely, new-ish Belconnen Arts Centre. It was a challenging but also enthralling program*:

  • Madrigals Book III (1969), by George Crumb (Soprano, harp, percussion)
  • Perelandra Piccolo Concerto (2010), by Michael Sollis (the full ensemble, with Kiri Sollis featuring on piccolo)
  • A Dybbuk Suite (1995), by The Klezmatics (the full ensemble)
  • Good Night (1989), by Henryk Mikolaj Górecki (Soprano, alto flute, harp, three tam tams)

I was intrigued by Crumb’s Madrigals which comprises three very short accompanied (though that word doesn’t do justice to the harp and percussion) vocal pieces of a style that was unlike anything I’ve heard before. The lyrics are drawn from Federico Garcia Lorca. All I can say is that it was a nicely controlled and expressive performance by the three musicians involved. Sollis’ Perelandra Piccolo Concerto is a 4-movement piece inspired by CS Lewis‘ novel Perelandra – and featured, of course, the piccolo. The novel, which I haven’t read, tells the story of Elwin Ransom, who is sent to Perelandra (Venus) to prevent the Fall of a new Adam and Eve. The piece includes spoken text, effectively read by soprano Ellis. I must say that the piccolo is not my favourite instrument – particularly as a major solo instrument – as I tend to like something a little more mellow (like, say, the alto-flute in the last piece) but Kiri Sollis (the composer’s wife) did play it with both verve and skill. All in all a work that made you think while entertaining you at the same time.

However, it was probably the second half of the concert that moved me the most. I think this is because the first half had a more intellectual appeal – my brain had to work to enjoy it – while the second half appealed more to the emotions. A Dybbuk Suite contains all that paradoxical joy and melancholy that you tend to find in klezmer music and I found my foot tapping at times. Lovely. Good Night, on the other hand, mostly comprises a mystical, moody dialogue between harp and alto-flute with some voice and percussion near the end. It was quite mesmerising: Kiri Sollis and Laura Tanata seemed perfectly attuned to each other and played the piece at a controlled and measured pace. It quietly but gorgeously concluded what was a truly delightful concert.

(*This is not a formal music review – that is not my skill as I’ve said before – but simply my lay music-goer’s response to the concert)

Musica Viva, the Internet and Borodin

Tonight was the opening of our Musica Viva 2010 International Concert Season. The performers were the Borodin Quartet, and they performed two quartets by Shostakovich and one by their namesake, Borodin. I’m not going to review this concert in detail because, as I’ve said before, I have no musical training and so can’t comment in any detail on the structure of the music or the technical skill of the musicians. There are things though that I can talk about.

The first thing is the Internet. Like many of us, I like to keep an eye on how organisations and businesses use the Internet to enhance their services. A few years ago Musica Viva started making their concert programs available online before the concert. Not only did this mean you didn’t have to pay for a printed program at the venue but you could read up on the pieces beforehand. In addition to this aid to audience education, they have, for some years, offered free pre-concert talks. We never managed to get to those which is a shame as I’m sure they would have further enhanced our appreciation of the concerts but, well, you just can’t fit in everything. This year, though, they have replaced this with a new feature: online concert talks – which they say they will make available around 2 weeks before the concert. You can check out the talks offered for tonight’s Borodin concert here. What a great way to use the Internet to help audience members get the most out of the concerts. As the athletes at the Winter Olympics say, I’m stoked!

The next thing is a little more esoteric. I may not be trained in music, but I am a trained librarian/archivist. I was therefore rather chuffed to read that Borodin, an industrial chemist as well as composer, invented “a chemical compound – a special type of gelatine coating – that enabled him to preserve his [hand-written] musical work for posterity” (from the concert program). How great is that?

Cello

Cello (Courtesy: Clker, by OCAL)

And now for the concert. Three pieces were played:

  • Dmitri Shostakovich String Quartet no. 4 in D major, op. 83 (1949)
  • Dmitri Shostakovich String Quartet no. 13 in B flat minor, op. 138 (1960-70)
  • Alexander Borodin String Quartet no. 2 in D major (1881)

It was a lovely concert. The two Shostakovich pieces were a little more demanding for those in the audience who like something more traditional, but I thought both were beautiful. The end of his 4th quartet, with a slowly sustained fading line from the cello supported by light (not bright) pizzicato from the other instruments, was played sensitively and left us with a wistful melancholy. According to the program, Shostakovich said that music should always have “two layers” and that Jewish folk music with its ability to “be happy while it is tragic” is close to his vision of music. Both these quartets reflected, I think, this goal though in the mostly sombre 13th it was much harder to find! My concert neighbour (not Mr Gums, but on my other side) and I agreed that this was not music to listen to at home on the radio or a CD, but to hear live, in the concert hall.

The Borodin is a different kettle of fish – romantic, with all the richness and lyricism you associate with that period. The third movement, the Notturno (or Nocturne), is famous. I recognised it immediately but if you had asked me before the concert who wrote it I would have “guessed” Beethoven. Well, it is Romantic! But, hearing it tonight, I realised that it does sound a little more “modern” than Beethoven, and that’s about as technical as I’ll get!

All in all, a lovely concert – interesting music well played – to start this year’s season. Next up The Harp Consort. You never know, I may be inspired to tell you about that one too.

Musica Viva concert: Steven Isserlis & Dénes Várjon

Cello (Photo by Jamilsoni, used under Creative Commons Attribution Noncommercial No-derivative Works 2.0)

Cello (Photo by Jamilsoni, used under Creative Commons Attribution Noncommercial No-derivative Works 2.0)

I haven’t written about all the Musica Viva concerts I’ve attended this year because I don’t really have any music review skills. However, I can’t resist writing a little about this one. This is the third time we’ve seen the cellist Steven Isserlis, each time accompanied by a different pianist, and we’ve never been disappointed. He is one of those expressive performers who actively communicates with the audience through his playing.

Tonight’s program was all Schumann – played by two Schumaniacs (as Isserlis described themselves when introducing their encore – another piece by Schumann!). This despite the fact that Schumann, while apparently liking the cello having played it as a child, wrote little for it. Only one of the six programmed pieces was written for cello; the rest were written for instruments as varied as violin, oboe, clarinet and piano. Whatever they were originally written for, the arrangements for cello and piano that we heard tonight were delightful and could, to my ears anyhow, have always been intended that way. The program was:

  • Fantasiestücke, op 73
  • Märchenbilder, op 113 (arranged Alfredo Piatti)
  • Violin Sonata no 3 in A minor (1853) (arranged Steven Isserlis)
  • Three Romances, op 94
  • Adagio and Allegro, op 70
  • Fünf Stücke im Volkston, op 102 (the one originally for cello and piano)

Schumann is a Romantic composer, and his pieces clearly reflect that period – they are variously sweet, melancholic, dramatic, humorous even, but never discordant or jarring.  The playing was lovely. That said, some of my companions felt that the piano often overwhelmed the cello. Others of us, though, almost forgot the piano (gorgeous as it was) existed, so focused were we on Steven. He is hard not to focus on with his somewhat wild curly locks and animated playing. He is also unflappable: just as he finished a movement of one piece a baby in the audience squawked. Isserlis pulled a humorous face and commented that while a couple of notes might have been out of tune, it wasn’t that bad, and then muttered something about “critics”! What a charmer!

I guess my only criticism, if you could call it that, is that the program was all Schumann. Schumann is lovely and the program had some colour to it, but I would probably have enjoyed a little wider variety – a little discordance perhaps to counterpoint all the lyricism. This is but a petty point to make about a lovely evening’s music played by delightful performers. And who could be more delightful than a performer whose voicemail apparently goes like this:

Please leave me a nice uplifting message to make my day, make my life worthwhile. (Musica Viva Concert Program)

What more can I say!

PS If you are interested, here is a YouTube of Isserlis and Várjon playing Schumann’s Arbendlied Op 85 No 12, which was the encore at our concert.

Musica Viva concert: Katia Skanavi

I have been attending classical (to use the popular definition of the term) concerts since the mid- 1970s, but I am not musically trained and so cannot comment with any expertise on technique, interpretation,  etc. However, I do know what I like – and one of the things I like is a concert that mixes old composers/pieces with new. It is satisfying to hear music you know or, if you don’t know the actual music, at least a familiar style. But, it is also great to be challenged by new compositions from contemporary composers.

Musica Viva’s recent subscription concerts – we returned to subscribing about 8 years ago after a bit of a hiatus – achieve an appealing balance in this regard. Under the artistic directorship of Australian composer Carl Vine, we have seen (and heard) a wide range of performers from the tried and true, like the Jerusalem and Tokyo Quartets, to the unusual (for the chamber music scene anyhow) like TaikOz and The Song Company. And, each year, there is a featured composer – a contemporary Australian. In recent years we have had Matthew Hindson, Richard Mills, Ross Edwards, Peter Sculthorpe and, this year, Carl Vine himself. This means that pretty well every concert in the series will include at least one piece by that composer. A painless – indeed usually a joyful – way of being introduced to contemporary repertoire.

And this brings me to last night’s inspiring concert by the young (well, born in 1971) Russian pianist, Katia Skanavi. We rarely have solo piano concerts at Musica Viva, so we were expecting a real treat, and were not disappointed. The program included Schubert, Carl Vine and two pieces by Chopin. It was beautiful – to watch and to listen to. I won’t describe the concert in detail. True music reviewers will do that much better than I, but I will say that Carl Vine’s Piano Sonata No. 3 (2007) was a delight. It comprises 4 movements played without the usual breaks between them. It was both lyrical and dramatic. This may sound silly but I particularly loved the left hand which played some gorgeous quiet lyrical parts and then joined the right in strong dramatic sections. In fact, Katia confirmed once again what a physical thing playing the piano is – her soft notes were barely there but you could hear them all; her loud notes were clear and strong. She seemed to me to combine technical excellence with great expression. After playing for around 80 minutes – with an intermission – she played an encore.  Unlike many performers today who tell us what their encore is, she just sat down and played. I think it might have been another Chopin but I’m probably wrong. I will have to wait for the reviews to find out.

Meanwhile, if you want to hear and see her, albeit much younger, self try this YouTube recording.

Addendum: There was finally a review of the concert BUT, bum, the reviewer did not identify the encore. I bet he didn’t know it either! Anyhow, he agreed that the concert was great. He wrote that “Her playing is deceptively simple. Everything seemed effortless, with even the most complex and technically demanding passages played with a delightful rhythmic definition and precise  phrasing and articulation.” (Graham McDonald, “Simply Splendid Skanavi”, Times2, The Canberra Times, 26 May 2009)

Addendum 2: Here is a lovely review from a Melbourne Blogger of the Melbourne concert. They had two encores, and one was Chopin. I reckon ours was too! Anyhow, now I wish we’d clapped more…