Tag Archives: Bates

A Thinking Man’s Pianist

Pianist Richard Goode
Olin Arts Center, Bates College
Oct. 28, 2017
by Christopher Hyde

Pianist Richard Goode is a man of a thousand voices, as was apparent from his recital at Bates’ Olin Arts Center Saturday night.
Goode is a great pianist, as unconventional in his way as the late Glenn Gould, and one of his defining characteristics is the ability to make the piano imitate the instruments of the orchestra, something that stands him in good stead when delineating hitherto unheard voices in familiar works.

The ability showed itself immediately in four preludes and fugues from the second book of “The Well-Tempered Clavier.” One is accustomed to chasing the theme through its various transformations in a Bach fugue. Goode makes it easy, even with the most long-limbed and Baroque motifs of Book Two. He also reveals relationships between the lines more clearly than anyone I have heard since Walter Gieseking.

Another ability came to the fore in his superlative rendition of the Alban Berg Piano Sonata, Op. 1, (ca. 1910)—musical intelligence. Listening to Goode’s interpretation revealed structure and development in a way that made the work effective musically, something that analysis never accomplishes.

The Berg was followed by one of Beethoven’s weirdest children (a Halloween treat?): the Sonata No. 28 in A Major, Op. 101. Maybe the composer was doing penance for the “Moonlight,” but even the indications are a little much,  for example ”Geschwindt, doch nicht zu sehr und mit Entsclossenheit. Allegro,” before the final movement. (Rapidly but not too much so, and with determination.”)
Goode made it sound even more strange than it is. Good or bad, it was certainly an unconventional reading, but with Beethoven’s characteristic abrupt changes in mood and dynamics. (Goode’s dynamics, for Sunday evening at least, ranged from mp to fff, sometimes in the same second, with the Steinway in brilliant mode.)

HIs iconoclastic approach, while still exciting, was not as successful in the second half of the program, devoted entirely to Chopin. Nevertheless, his unsentimental renditions brought out the musical, rather than emotional, beauties of the works. The four Mazurkas managed to combine danceable rhythms with the complexity of the Bach preludes heard earlier.

Merely following the tempo indications of the familiar Nocturne in C-sharp minor (Op. 47) was unusual enough.  In every example on the program Goode tossed off the most fantastic of Chopin’s elaborate ornamentations gracefully and in tempo.

The final work on the program, the great Barcarolle in F-sharp major (Op. 60) sounded like the gondolier was competing at Henle. (I couldn’t resist, but the tempo was a little fast for traditional ears.)

That said, it was absolutely wonderful. More wonderful still is the fact that the pianist actually found the real climax of the piece and never approached it again, no matter how tempting the later surges became. This is something rare in virtuoso pianists, no matter what their reputation.

It resulted in a sanding ovation from the large audience, and an encore of a William Byrd Pavane and Gailiarde, which presage both Bach and Chopin.

Christopher Hyde is a writer and musician who lives in Pownal. He can be reached at classbeat@netscape.net.

Asakawa Shines in Contemporary Piano Music

Mari Asakawa, Piano
Bates College
Sept. 28, 2016
by Christopher Hyde

Lewiston is becoming the piano music capital of Maine. The Franco Center’s excellent piano series is gaining a wide following and ever since the residency of the late Frank Glazer, Bates College has been showcasing some of the world’s finest talents at Olin Hall. For music lovers on a limited budget, many of the Bates concerts are free and open to the pubic.

Wednesday night’s recital by Mari Asakawa, a world-renowned specialist in contemporary piano music, was one of the most unusual I have attended, except perhaps for the Gamper Festival of Contemporary Music at Bowdoin.

Asakawa began her program with Contrapuncti I, V and VII from Bach’s “The Art of Fugue,” (BWV1080) remarking from the stage that many of the techniques employed by both serial and avant garde composers were already prominent in Bach’s counterpoint..

Her piano interpretations, the first I have heard since Glenn Gould’s, were remarkable in their sharp delineation of voices. Unlike Gould’s, they were played from memory, while the rest of the works on the program were “read” from a score. Asakawa turns her own pages, since I doubt that many page turners could follow the music well enough to be of any assistance.

The Bach was followed by “Eventide” (2016) written specifically for the concert by Hiroya Miura, who was in the audience. The two movements, “In Blue,” and “In Purple,” were in an impressionistic, stream of consciousness style, somewhat reminiscent of Persichetti. One incorporates a quote from the opening guitar solo of “When Doves Cry,” by Prince, who died suddenly at the time that Miura was writing the work.

My favorite of the evening was “Ciaccona” (1998) by Claudio Ambrosini, perhaps because it was easy to follow on first hearing. The theme, modeled on the ancient slow-dance form, is a descending chromatic scale, with treble embellishments that become more and more virtuosic as the dance progresses, reaching the near impossible by the end.

Perhaps serial (twelve-tone) music will catch on eventually, although I doubt that audiences will go home whistling the tunes, as Schoenberg hoped. That thought was prompted by “Post-Partitions” (1966) of Milton Babbitt, so well and carefully constructed that it stands out like a granite monument among ephemera.

A lengthy work by Eliott Carrter, “Night Fantasies,” (1980) concluded the program. As an attempt to capture the thoughts and dreams that dominate the mind late at night, it was unsuccessful, although beautifully played by an artist strongly associated with Carter. There was too little contrast between moments of calm and the lightning flashes of insight, and the dynamics ranged from mezzo-forte to fortissimo.

Strangely enough, Carter was trying to imitate the “poetic moodiness” of certain works by Schumann; like his model, he wound up with too many notes, as if dreading an instant of silence.

Christopher Hyde is a writer and musician who lives in Pownal. He can be reached at classbeat@netscape.net.

Cumming Honors Glazer at Bates College

Pianist Duncan Cumming
Olin Hall, Bates College
Oct. 9, 2015

Pianist Duncan Cumming’s tribute to his teacher, the late Frank Glazer, Friday night at Bates College, was a compelling musical evening. (You can judge for yourself tonight—Saturday— at USM’s Corthell Hall). It also raised some fundamental questions about concertizing in the electronic age: the role of memory and standard vs. innovative performance of the classics.

The program consisted of popular works in the repertoire that Cumming, now on the music faculty of the University of Albany, studied with Glazer, artist in residence at Bates College from 1980 until his death in January at age 99.

Cumming. like Maine-based pianist Martin Perry, is one of the pioneers at playing from the score, rather than relying on the memorization now expected of every concert pianist. I couldn’t notice any difference in tempo or technique, compared to Gilmore Award-winning pianist Rafel Blechacz, who was brought to Merrill Auditorium by Portland Ovations on Oct. 4.

Comparison was easy, since Blechacz and Cumming both played the Brahms Intermezzo, Opus 118, No. 2, and the Chopin Polonaise in A-flat Major, Op. 53.

I found Cumming’s Brahms a bit more “authentic” -—Glazer was a Brahms specialist who once played all of the master’s piano works at one concert– and Blechacz is an iconoclast who has his own thought-provoking take on everything he plays.

Cumming’s rendition of the lesser-known “Edward” Ballade in D minor, Op.10, No.1, emphasized the young Brahms’ dramatic tendencies.

In the famous Polonaise, which became a pop song with the title “‘Till the End of Time,” Cumming’s technique was actually superior, but Blechacz’s version more interesting, with a distinct Polish flavor.

The influence of Glazer was most notable in the Beethoven “Moonlight” Sonata, Op. 27 No. 2. The presto agitato was taken at breakneck speed, as advocated by Artur Schnabel, Glazer’s most notable teacher, but without Schnabel’s characteristic wrong notes.

The Beethoven was the greatest test of reading from the score. It would seem virtually impossible to play it at tempo without storing most passages in the memory bank. Perhaps having a reference handy reduces anxiety about becoming lost, which has happened to many world-renowned pianists at awkward moments (most of them know how to fake it.)

Cumming used an electronic tablet similar to a Kindle, on which pages can be turned by pushing a button. It was so unobtrusive that one could not tell it was there, lying flat on the folded-down music stand. I foresee a day when pianists wear glasses with the score right in from of their eyes, advancing at a predetermined tempo.

Schubert was represented by the great Impromptu in C minor, Op. 90, No. 1, which is always a delight to hear. I just wish all pianists, not just Cumming, would pay more attention to the delicious modulation to C Major near the end of the work, as Paul Badura-Skoda used to do.

The most moving performance of the evening was the encore, an arrangement of “Annie Laurie” played at the funeral of Ruth Glazer in 2006.

A Little Water Music

Mason Bates’ “Liquid Interface,” was the featured work at the Portland Symphony Orchestra’s opening concert on Oct. 7, 2008, the first conducted by its then new music director, Robert Moody.
Bates’ work, basically a symphony in four movements, depicts increasingly warm states of water, from calving glaciers through hurricane surges to the warm lapping waves of Berlin’s Wannsee. It was commissioned by the National Symphony Orchestra, which premiered it on Feb. 7, 2008. It also references New Orleans and Hurricane Katrina, in Dixieland intimations from the movement “Crescent City.” This month marks the 10th anniversary of Katrina, one of the worst natural (and man-made) disasters in U.S. history.
In remarks about the new work, the composer mentions that “water has influenced countless musical endeavors. ‘La Mer’ and ‘Seigfried’s Rhine Journey’ come quickly to mind.”
That was a challenge. How many other well-known compositions have to do with water? I would never have thought of “Seigfried” immediately, but the Rhine Maidens did come to mind, and “Die Lorelei.” There’s Handel’s “Water Music,” Sibelius’ “Swan of Tuonela,” and Edward MacDowell’s “Ocean” Sonata, the storm at sea that ends Britten’s “Peter Grimes,” Chopin’s “Raindrop” Prelude and “Ocean Waves” Etude, a song from Berlioz’ “Nuites d’ete,” Satie’s musical description of sea-sickness, Noel Coward’s “Matalo,” and the list goes on. A new parlor game?
Someday, I hope a composer (if it hasn’t been done already) will devise a musical setting for Rimbaud’s lovely liquid, languorous line: l’Eternité, C’est la mer mêlée au Soleil.”
What is just as intriguing is how water itself can make music, like raindrops falling on a metal pipe. Bates’ huge orchestra for “Liquid Interface” includes a glass harmonica, an instrument invented by Benjamin Franklin that standardizes the tones made by rubbing the rims of crystal glasses containing various amounts of water.
One of the oldest musical instruments is the Hydraulus, a water-powered organ that was played by the Egyptians as early as 200 BC, if not before. The weight of water pressing on a bellows compressed the air that sounded the pipes. The sound was said to be so loud that musicians had to wear earplugs (sound familiar?) and it was later played at Roman gladiatorial contests and by the Emperor Nero. Some scholars believe that was one of the reasons for the prejudice of the early church against musical instruments of all kinds.
My favorite among water powered instruments is the sea organ on the shore of the Adriatic at Zadar, Croatia. We definitely need one in Maine. It consists of a series of wide and shallow stone steps leading down to the water. Organ pipes under the steps are sounded by air pressure that depends upon wave height. The tones would be random, except that the pipes are tuned to a diatonic scale consistent with Croatian ethnic music. The sound is always pleasing, like that of a xylophone tuned to a pentatonic scale.
“Liquid Interface” combines a modern landscape of taped sounds with relatively tonal orchestral writing.
An analogy is Rautovaara’s “Cantus Arcticus,” with its taped birdsongs. Rautovaara’s is the best music, and the most accessible, but both are worth hearing