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AQUARELLE GUITAR QUARTET, 18^th February 2006.

      There are vocal quartets, string quartets, piano quartets, flute, et al., quartets; but the guitar quartet is something quite different from all of these.    Four exactly similar (if slight variation in rounding of the back is excepted) instruments of equal timbre and projection, and, in this case, four players of exceptional and equal virtuosity: Michael Baker, Vasilis Bessas, James Jervis and Richard Safhill.   Our expectations were sharpened by a trace of curiosity: could four such similar instruments offer the range and variety within the capabilities of mixed-instrument groups?  Any doubts on that point were soon dismissed.

      The programme opened, deliciously, in the 18th century with Boccherini's ’Introduction and Fandango“ from his Guitar Quintet in D major.  Boccherini's ’Minuet in E“ is famous, regrettably often the only Boccherini recognised; and after hearing how this work was performed, with its cascading arpeggi so suited to the guitar,  one feels compelled to discover more about him.  Next, a move into the 20th century (via the 19th, the composer born in 1887) with two arrangements, the first by Richard Safhill, the second by James Jervis, of excerpts from the works of Villa-Lobos.   The first of these is very well-known, and frequently broadcast: the ’Bacchianas Brasileiras“, so we were able to make immediate comparisons. These reflected great credit on the arranger: there was a purification of tone and theme, producing an effect not always perceptible in more frequently-heard performances.  The second piece is titled ’Brincadeira“, which the programme-notes informed us means "A joke".  Joke it was, almost cheeky in parts with side-swipes at the popular music of some European contemporaries of Villa-Lobos; another highly commendable arrangement.

      Then right into the 20th century with a composition by Paolo Bellinati, and its title, ’A Furiosa“, is apt.  The programme notes told us that Bellinati, born in 1950, composed this as a tribute to the street bands of Brazil who were nicknamed "the Furious Ones"   - and on hearing this work, one can understand why.   Describing it as vigorous is not enough, and there is so much to discuss in this most unusual work  - with its ongoing, exhilarating, bubbly descant, solos, conversations among instruments, subtle syncopation, and remarkable percussion - that detailed analysis is impossible here.  But what came across was what the composer wished to record, and what Aquarelle certainly produced: cheerfulness, enthusiasm, joie-de-vivre.  (N.B.: try bringing in drums, cymbals and rattles by  tapping, let's say an oboe, with the hands.)

      What followed was a tremendous contrast: Catriona MacKay's ’The Swan“, transcribed for Aquarelle (from fiddle and clarsach), by Michael Baker.  Catriona, a classical harpist, has concentrated on the clarsach and folk-music.  Scots, of course, and this was evident:  Scots folk-melody themes, more than a suggestion of the elegiac, reflective.  Inspired by a trip on a sail-boat, this was clearly "water-music", relaxing, refreshing.

      The first half of the programme ended with another switch of mood, composer, and place. Not of time, because we were still well into the 20th century with two short pieces from the American composer Andrew York (born in 1958): ’Bantu“ and ’Quiccan.“  The title ’Bantu“ is revealing enough: native African themes and techniques employed.  Drum-sounds needed then, with admirably-performed and tricky percussion from the group.  ’Quiccan“'s title was unexplained;  Anglo-Saxon of the 10th century offers the tentative meaning "alive".   And alive it certainly was.  An effervescent, flowing opening, continued subtly as a background (and which required much skilled fingering), led into jazz-style riffs, with that background always present: another unusual and entertaining work, with that percussion again employed to great effect.  

      The second part of the programme opened with  ’Uarekena“, by the Brazilian composer Sergio Assad (born 1952), and named after an indigenous Amazonian tribe.  Possibly, in musical terms, the most abstract work heard on the evening: a simple theme, perhaps  - this reviewer is not acquainted with the native tribes of South America's music - a native melody, introduced and then treated to discursive variations (some very relaxing and sweet) returning in conclusion to the basic theme: almost a classical format, though not composed as such; and, overall, pleasing.

       Next, another decided contrast with the Australian composer Phillip Houghton's overt "programme music" evocation of the gem opal, which at one time initiated a prospector's boom in Australia.  This work, ’Opals“, could be construed as being in three-part Sonata form, though it is doubtful that this is  what the composer intended.  The first "movement" has a stark, open-air feeling, with unusual rhythms and minor-key melodies.  The second is slow-timed, ethereal and almost dream-like, with an almost hypnotic, bell-tolling background, this emphasised by the interjection of melodic phrases.   The third "movement" returned to the mood of the first, with quirky, near-dissonant phrases set against a curiously high-pitched descant.   The composer intended to convey the varying colours of the opal  - and the harshness of much of the Australian landscape:  impressions successfully achieved.

      Then back to  America with Carlos Rafael Rivera's ’Cumba-Quin“.  (Rivera was born in 1970: there is a reason for this inclusion of birth-dates, given below.)  This work is based on Afro-Cuban rhythms, where the drum would naturally be expected to feature  - and again guitars were employed as percussion instruments, this time dominating a highly entertaining composition.  The percussion-work rose to quite remarkable crescendo, achieving at the same time a subtle emphasis by its contrast with the basic melodies, melodies in which folk-song could be discerned.  Conga and Rhumba rhythms were to the fore   - and quite a few feet in the audience were seen to be tapping.

      This was followed by ’Merry Christmas, Mr Lawrence,“  an arrangement by Vasilis Bessas of the soundtrack to the film of that name.  Not all of the audience would have seen the film, which might be considered a hindrance to appreciation; but this could be doubted, because the mood was perfectly captured here.  Light-hearted, perhaps a bit wistful, and certainly Christmassy, the original was written for a piano trio by an actor in the film, Ryuichi Sakamoto, born in 1952.  The star of the film was the singer David Bowie; this arrangement reflected his style in it, tuneful, colourful, relaxed.

      Anything but relaxation in the final work, Michael Baker's arrangement of ’Tarantella“, an Italian folk-dance adapted by the Chilean folk-group Inti-Illimani.  The tarantella folk-dance has been orchestrated by several composers, Rossini's version probably the best known; and it has two immutable characteristics, speed of execution and extreme exertion on the part of musicians and dancers.  The original dance, created a very long time ago, had a medical, curative purpose: the dancer had been the victim of a bite by the poisonous spider, the tarantula, and only by extemely vigorous physical exertion could the patient sweat the poison out.  Possibly this was effective; but through time the dance became popular for itself and the spider was forgotten.  Speed and exertion are the hallmarks, and Michael Baker chose to enhance this for Aquarelle by bringing in Chilean folk-music with its peculiar instruments, their timbres to be represented by the guitar.   We had been previously entertained, surprised, and enlightened, and we perhaps thought that we had heard and seen everything: not the case.    This ’Tarantella“ was an astonishing display of musicianship -   and a demonstration of what can be achieved by the guitar.  One could only marvel at the fingering required, and at the control demanded by the rendition of the sounds of simple wind-instruments.   The work was, loosely, in three parts: the opening a deceptively simple and straightforward tarantella, the second a development into Chilean music, the last a fusion of both with a return to the tarantella form in conclusion.   Quite a finale to a most revealing programme. Naturally, an encore was demanded, and this we received with a delightful little work,  ’Made in France“, by the French (of course) composer Birelli Lagrãµne.     

      Now to summarise, drawing attention to the above inclusion of birth-dates.  This is to focus attention on the fact that,  with the exception of  Boccherini, we were listening to modern music, very modern music -   yet throughout it all there was much more than a sprinkling of folk-music, some of the themes very old indeed.  We enjoyed a superb programme of contemporary music,  music new, refreshing, thought-provoking;  and Aquarelle certainly expanded our knowledge of the capabilities of a guitar quartet.       

West Lothian Schools Brass Band,  14th January 2006.

        Brass wind instruments have an innate power to rouse, to stimulate.  This can be controlled to produce different emotional effects, as several items in the programme demonstrated: but when this innate quality is carefully deployed in fourteen pieces of music mostly composed  in the 20th century and performed by young and talented players, terms such as "fascinating","invigorating", and even "electrifying", come to mind.  No wonder that the large audience in St Michael's Kirk rose to deliver a standing ovation.

      Eight of the works had been set by various arrangers.  Of course, a work composed for, say, strings and woodwinds must be rewritten for performance by brass.  But on comparing the arrangements of certain items with their originals, one began to wonder about the intentions of the arrangers: did they always set out to improve upon the originals, as well as transcribing one instrument's music for another's?  Improvement was certainly obvious in some cases, noted below.

      The opening work, ’Valero“, was a rousing composition of Mexican melodies and rhythms, with impressive work from the trumpets.  A real mood-lifter of a start.  This was followed by one of the above-mentioned improvements: Alan Fernie's arrangement of Lennon and McArtney's well-known ’Ticket to Ride“.  This is not to denigrate the Beatles' musical abilities, but objectively compared as works of music, Fernie's arrangement is in a different class.  His rendering of a steam railway engine starting and stopping was something to marvel, (and to smile) at.  The third work, a suite from the backgound music to the famous film ’Braveheart“, was  a remarkable demonstration of what brass is capable of in the matter of conveying atmosphere: a rather minatory opening trumpet solo led into battle scenes with a tremendous performance, especially in their timing, from the percussion, concluding with an emotive, elegiac, post-battle passage.  A soothing contrast followed with extracts from Gordon Langford's ’Rhapsody for Trombone“, a piece which, with its fusion of syncopation and lyrical lushness, catches the essence of mid-20th-century big-dance-band style: beautifully played by trombonist Jonathan Young.   Next came an interesting arrangement of a well-known work, one of Erik Satie's ’Gymnopã´dies“.  The arranger, Adrian Drover, has caught, in this piece, Satie's appreciation of the new  music appearing in his time:  the ’Gymnopã´dies“ were composed in the 1890s.

      To describe the next work, Harry Belafonte's Christmas hymn ’Mary's Boy Child“, as moving and impressive would be an understatement.  As this was an unannounced addition to the progamme, the arranger's identity is at present unknown, a pity, for this is a case where "improvement" comes to mind  - but that is not quite the correct term.  Belafonte's original is itself perfection;  the arranger has simply added the power of brass to the refrain.  Many of the audience might well consider this composition as the  top of the evening's programme.  

      Then an intriguing composition by the contemporary Norwegian composer Oystein Baadsvik, ’Fnugg Blue“, where a folk-melody is given over to a solo tuba and very modern treatment  - a solid beat and a very "blues" interpretation of the original: all enjoyable, with admirable playing from the young soloist Ben Millar.   The first half of the programme ended with ’The Children of Sanchez“, an arrangement of the film's soundtrack.  As in the opening item, Mexican and lively, yet quite different in emotional content, yearning and compassion coming through: but similar in the performance of the trumpets, especially in the solo work from the band's leader Vicky Blair.

       The second half of the programme began with an arrangement of the opening music of the TV series ’Friends“.  Recognisable and popular, and for these reasons probably worth inclusion: but there are those who would claim that any arrangement of this piece cannot fail to be an improvement.  Leroy Anderson's ’Serenata“ followed,  very Spanish, very lively, all sections of the band fully engaged,  preceding a massive contrast in mood and cultural origin with Anthony Swainson's arrangement of the ’Eriskay Love Lilt“.  The performance of this never-fail melody was another demonstration of the range of brass in the matter of emotional tone, never mind the balance of instruments achieved by the arranger; and there was  another noteworthy solo trumpet.

       Next, Bruce Fraser's ’Sun“, and we were informed that this was the first setting for brass band of an essay in fusing African and Celtic music.  So we listened very attentively.  African influence first, the importance of the drum in Africa being taken up by the percussion, then the Celtic coming in with a lament, a beautiful euphonium solo by Isla Cameron, with a concluding, and curiously formal, interweaving of both themes.   Overall, a tricky and attractive composition, masterfully handled.

      Then Alan Fernie's arrangement of Lew Pollack's ’That's a Plenty“, identified as Dixieland music, and genuine Dixieland it was!  Those familiar with the genre would certainly recognise the rhythms  - and the employment of the tuba - in this vigorous and enjoyable piece.

      For the finale, another arrangement by Fernie, this time of Vangelis's ’The Conquest of Paradise“, not a work to discuss in a few lines since there is so much in it.  Perhaps enough to say that it once more  gave the band the opportunity to show the range of music that brass is capable of, and most absorbing that was:  the deep rumblings of the opening resolving into clear melody, with delicate  promises (these ultimately fulfilled), a powerful underlying rhythm throughout set against the melodic variations with the basic melody never abandoned.   An affecting composition and a fitting conclusion.

      The standing ovation was such that the band was compelled to to provide not one, but three, encores: "Putting on the Ritz", "Gabriel's ?"(apologies, reviewer's script illegible) and "Birdlands".

      There is no difficulty in understanding why West Lothian Schools Brass Band are, for the third successive year, and for the ninth time in total, National Youth Brass Band Champions of Britain; the current European Youth Band Champions; and the Scottish Youth Brass Band Champions of 2005.

      And we must never forget that all this is due to the industry and ability of one person, their long-serving conductor Nigel Boddice, MBE.        

The Fujita Piano Trio, 3 December 2005

      This Trio is distinguished not only for its international performances but also in being composed of the three Fujita sisters, Arisa (violin), Honoka ('cello), and Megumi (piano), who have been playing chamber music together from childhood.  

      First, we heard Mozart's Piano Trio in C major.  This work is by no means unknown, and some of us were prepared to make comparisons.  Well, right away in the first movement, the 'Allegro", something distinctive appeared: a crispness and delicacy shared by all the instrumentalists which had the individual notes sparkling, little points of light, an effect not always achieved.  Most enjoyable.   This delicacy was exhibited again in the second, 'Andante", movement, but to a different emotional purpose.  The languorous opening melody is transmuted into music anything but languorous  - and yet the 'andante" is there all the time.  Contrast maybe, but of a very subtle kind, present but not obvious, making demands on the players which the Fujita sisters handled impressively.  There is a very serious undertone to this movement; perhaps Mozart thought that the tensions engendered by its powerful culmination needed some release, returning in the third 'Allegro" movement to light-hearted variations on the theme of the first.

      Ravel's Piano Trio in A minor was the second work, this in four movements.  It should go without saying that we were into music of a very different kind here, and this was obvious from the opening bars of the first movement, the 'Modã´rã´"; not only because Ravel's distinctive style could be recognised, but also because of the beautiful singing tone the Trio produced in this plaintive opening.  One might wonder exactly what Ravel meant by "moderate", for suddenly the music practically explodes, the strings in particular producing fireworks.  This was soon contrasted by 'lente" passages, again with notably pure and full tones from the strings.  The second movement is titled 'Pantoum", 'assez vif".  "Assez vif" translates as "lively enough" ("Pantoum" a borrowing from another art and culture) and this looks like another understatement on Ravel's part.  The spirited execution demanded of the players in this movement was always under complete control: not a nuance of the composer's intention was missed.   The third movement is titled 'Passacaille (Trãµs large)", and 'large" can be translated as "painting with a broad brush", a specific instruction to the players, who are left to render into music an effect almost impossible to verbalise.   But this effect was immediately obvious in the opening deep and clear notes of the 'cello.   At once establishing a relaxing atmosphere, and, later, conducting a delightful to-and-fro with the violin, it maintained a subtle hint of the energy which lies behind this seemingly restful movement.  The piano had much to do in underlining the unstrained nature of this section; but then switched mode, spectacularly, in the fourth movement, providing a background related to the themes of the first movement, violin and 'cello developing on these with vigorous rhythmic patterns  - and demonstrating that Ravel's title 'Animã´" for this movement was justified.

      After the interval, the composition which we had all been anticipating, probably with curiosity to the fore:  'Between Tides", by the 20th-century Japanese composer Toru Takemitsu, a work in one movement, created in 1993.  Modern music? Japanese music? A mainly self-taught composer? (The programme notes had provided background information enough.)  Scales and rhythms unfamiliar enough to risk a degree of incomprehension?  Or a pastiche of Western musical idioms?  Not in the slightest.  We heard a work original, and moving.   Yes, the musical tradition of Japan was obvious,  perhaps with the seeming absence of the employment of harmonies and chords.  But watch that "seeming".   For a start, it was though each instrument was taking turn about with solo melodies, almost participating in a three-sided conversation; then the realisation dawned that these melodies were all closely, subtly, and musically connected, this when violin and 'cello conducted a discourse with the piano, leading up to impressive ensemble playing,  the violin leading.   We were informed that the composer was deeply attracted to nature: 'Between the Tides" is simply another term for "slack water", the pause, at high or low water, when tides reverse direction, a brief time for rest, reflection  - and introspection.  This was all conveyed in an unusual and beautiful work.

      The programme concluded with Beethoven's Piano Trio in B flat Major, the "Archduke", one of his greatest compositions.   It could be said that all Beethoven is in this Trio, the power, the organised construction, the range and contrasting of emotions.  Particularly to be noted in the Fujita sisters' playing was the pizzicato in the first movement, the way in which they rendered the dancing in the second movement, the delicate exchanges between 'cello and piano in that (wonderful) 'Cantabile Andante" third movement, and the exquisite ensemble timing in the concluding, culminating, fourth.

      The organisation of the programme merits attention. Beginning with a Classical composer, it ended with a Romantic, in between them two works of a different nature and origin, both of these not so easily classified unless terms such as "ethnic" and "national" are dragged in:  The Basque folk-idioms in  Ravel's Trio, the Japanese culture influencing 'Between Tides". In fact, the large audience had been enjoying an evening of subtly-arranged variety.  Naturally, an encore was enthusiastically demanded, and given with the brief and lively 'Allegretto" by Frank Bridge. 

      One can easily understand the reasons for the acclaim awarded to the Fujita Piano Trio.

RWS

Gliondar Ensemble, 12 November 2005

      The Guild's practice is based on two principles: to provide variety in the season's programme, and to engage musicians of the highest quality.   Once more, these were maintained in this concert given by the Gliondar Ensemble: Emma Roche (flute), Anne Rankin (oboe), Simon Browne (clarinet), Cliona Warren (bassoon) and Fergus Kerr (French Horn).   Variety in their programme too, with compositions ranging from 1800 to this year; but, before going into details, thought must be given to the skill, training, and practice required in all musical groups who play without a conductor.  The more complex the score, the greater the demands made on the players; the works chosen by Gliondar are very complex  - and were executed to perfection. Their timing was flawless, on occasions producing quite remarkable effects, notably in the Finale of Reicha's Wind Quintet.

      The concert opened with Bozza's arrangement of Debussy's 'Le Petit Nãµgre".  Debussy must have composed this one when Bozza was about one year old.  And, with no access to the original score, this reviewer doesn't know if indeed it was scored for a wind quintet.  No matter. In this performance it was clear that composer, arranger, and Gliondar had grasped the essentials of the new music which was emanating from black America: perhaps the main one being the effects produced by much subtle syncopation.  Gliondar's timing and technique delivered this engagingly in this deservedly popular piece.

      The second work provided an intriguing contrast, classical, not modern, lengthy, not brief: Anton Reicha's 'Wind Quintet, Opus 91". Reicha is really one of the greats, a friend of Beethoven, protegã´ of Haydn, as professor at the Paris Conservatoire teacher of Berlioz, Liszt, Gounod and Franck; and it is a wonder that he is not quite so famous as the above-named, judging by the way in which Gliondar played and interpreted this work.  It was fascinating, absorbing, and the temptation to comment in detail on its three movements must be resisted as too time-consuming here. Every instrument was called on for a display of virtuosity, this notably with flute and oboe in the first movement,  flute and clarinet in the second, the bassoon in the Finale, the horn in every movement, as well as coming in, on occasion, with  a unifying four-note theme while the other instruments revelled in descant.  Without a score in front of one, it was not easy to mark the movement-divisions, though it was very clear in the case of the 'Menuetto and Trio" that we were at a dance. The whole work was a  flowing, wave-cresting progression to that tremendous  - and astonishing -   Finale.   "Tremendous" from a wind quintet, a term more associated with a full orchestra?  In this case, yes.

      The third work was Ibert's 'Trois Piãµces Brãµves", played, according to the programme, in reverse order, III,II,I.  In the first movement it was perceptible, through melodic line and phrasing, that there was a century between Ibert and Reicha  - and it was interesting to see how Gliondar changed their "attack" for this work.  The 'Allegro Scherzando" was definitely amusing!  The second movement, the 'Andante", was sweet and relaxing, liquid tones from flute and oboe, the others joining in harmoniously.  The third opened with what might be called a charge, switching rapidly to delicate work between  flute and clarinet,  with a rather astonishing ending.

      Then, although in the same period of time, something quite different with Heitor Villa Lobos's 'Quintet (en forme de Choros)".  This is a very nationalistic work, based on Brazilian folk-music, the analysis of which is not to be undertaken here, save that it exhibits characteristics found in other national folk-music: short pieces, expressive of intense emotions, e.g. mourning or exhilaration.  The composer's titling of the six movements indicate this: 'slow; a little more quickly; animated; very slow; animated; very quick".   That first movement was decidedly a lament, curiously offset with sudden brief flashes of sound and changes of tempo  -a foretaste of what was to follow in the animated movements? The flute had much work to do in these movements, Emma Roche's playing in the more vigorous        - very well, wilder -  passages being impressive.  Vigour, Latin American, pervaded, translated into intensity in the slow, lamenting, movements, producing from the five players in combination a sound of orchestral quality.      

      Next, folk-music much closer to hand with Gliondar's own 'Folk-suite, Various/Traditional".  Closer to hand because of the five members of Gliondar, two are Irish and three are Scots, all based mainly in Scotland, and it is from their countries' music that this suite is composed.   It began with Fergus Kerr's horn-solo, a beautiful, solemn melody called...?  It could have been the Irish ballad 'She walked through the Fair" ;  it would be safer to say that there was a strong resemblance. That is the problem we faced all through this delightful work: we could just about recognise a particular song or dance-tune underlying the variations, but before it could be identified it was gracefully and artistically melded with the next one.   A very enjoyable composition this, with the added attraction that we found that we had been listening to a world premiãµre!

      The formal programme ended with a never-fail favourite for wind quintets, Malcolm Arnold's 'Three Shanties for Wind Quintet".  Often heard on radio, it was most refreshing to hear it in live performance.   One wonders what the seamen who hove together on a bowseline to "Boney was a warrior" would say if they found it transfigured into 'Allegretto semplice"!

      Naturally, an encore was enthusiastically demanded.  We were rewarded with a work by the 20th-century Hungarian composer Ferenc Farkas, a sparkling little piece which, beautifully played, could be said in a way to have summed up the atmosphere of this concert.   RWS

 Scottish Opera Macbeth  8 October 2005

      The Arts Guild opened this winter's season with Scottish Opera's staging of Verdi's 'Macbeth"; Scottish Opera's touring production for 2005   - and it must be admitted that some misgivings were aroused when the choice was announced, because 'Macbeth", Shakespeare's well-known creation, is anything but light comedy or melodrama.  The question was, how would an audience react to this production of a horror-story, handled so often on stage, on film, and in this case, opera?

      The answer is that the large audience in the Academy theatre was spellbound, and here is some evidence.  There were more than a few audience members who were experiencing Opera for the first time in their lives, and what statisticians might call a significant number of these said, post-performance, that they had been astonishingly and favourably impressed.  Most of these first-timers were present because their children or grandchildren  -or nephews and nieces - had been selected from the local Primary School to appear on stage.  Children in 'Macbeth"?  Read on.

      In analysing the total effect, Verdi's music can be taken for granted, but with a further proof of the magnetism emanating from the stage: an experienced opera-fan admitted that, after the opening minutes of the first scene, for the rest of the performance he had been quite unaware that this production of Verdi's 'Macbeth" was being conducted with a piano accompaniment, no orchestra. This says much for the singing and acting, the grimly effective set, the staging, lighting and costumes, and above all, the way all these ingredients were crafted together.  For instance, the Director, Dominic Hill, had been faced with the problem of portraying the supernatural, a crucial ingredient in the tale, a problem set by the unavoidably-limited cast-number and the differing stage-facilities involved in a touring production.  He solved it magnificently, the handling of the witches' scenes the prime example: a trio of antisocial hoydens transformed swiftly and dramatically into something very chilling by the acting abilities of the Witches combined with subtle light-effects.  The Witches first scene was striking enough  - thunder and lightning always helps - but their second appearance presents the Director with another difficulty, the apparition of the future kings of Banquo's descendants.  This was admirably dealt with by the employment of the six young pupils from our Primary School, some of whom had other parts to play in advancing the narrative.  Scottish Opera had selected and trained them, a time-consuming operation.

      There were highlights: that most moving scene, and singing, at the opening of Act 4 when the consequences of Macbeth's rule are being mourned; Lady Macbeth's "sleepwalking" scene; Macbeth's final and self-pitying solo, "They revile me"; the witches' - Caroline Childe, Anthea Kempston, Karina Lucas -   scenes; and others too many to list here.

             Except the dinner-scene, (where MacBeth sees the murdered Banquo, if anyone forgets this one) because it is here that Verdi managed, successfully and relevantly, to introduce an element not to be easily found in the texts of Shakespeare's 'Macbeth": gaiety, conveyed by the introductory music, providing a powerful dramatic contrast with what ensued.  The music and singing behind everything, of course, with Verdi at his best: solos, duets, trios, and ensembles, all beautifully and effectively delivered.  Helena Leonard's (Lady Macbeth) expression of varying emotional states has to be noted; Richard Wiegold's (Banquo and the Doctor) deep and attractive tonal qualities; of Douglas Bowen (Macbeth) the same must be said, and in his case an example of what "stage-presence" really means.   Full marks all round to the team which gave us this memorable evening  - and we certainly must not pass over the work of the Musical Director and pianist, Oliver Rundell.        

RWS

Fine Arts Brass, Saturday 19 March 2005

This concert, given by the Fine Arts Brass Ensemble (Angela Whelan and Simon Lenton, trumpets; Chris Parkes, French Horn; Katy Price, trombone; Sam Elliot, tuba) concluded the Arts Guild's formal programme for the 2004-2005 season, and, in a way, it could be said to sum up that season on three major counts. The first: yet again we were privileged to be entertained by musicians of the highest quality; the second, that there was variety of depth and breadth in the contents of the programme, which ranged in time from the 16th to the present centuries, and in emotional tone from high comedy to something very different; the third, that we were introduced to new, in this case very new, music. This should be made clear when the works themselves are dealt with.
The opening work, Bernstein's overture to the opera 'Candide", is a masterpiece, the musical in-jokes reflecting much of Voltaire's style in his novel, the amusing confounding of expectations. This 20th-century composition was followed by something different in every way: a return to religious music of the 16th century with Maxwell Davies's arrangement of four voluntaries by Thomas Tallis. Four beautiful pieces of music, with, as could be expected, plainsong and counterpoint in evidence. It was ineteresting to note the way in which the instruments were deployed in providing melody and counterpoint, the tuba's part being particularly impressive in the first pair of these voluntaries. The second pair were heard after another two remarkable works, remarkable for quite different reasons: Chinese Whispers, composed this year of 2005, and excerpts from masques performed for Stuart royalty in the 1600s. Everyone knows the game of Chinese Whispers, of course, a situation leading, in a way, to audience participation as, helped by the composer's programme notes, we listened with great expectation to what was going to happen next in the series of the seven variations. With tricky ensemble and demanding solo work - and unusual percussion and vocal effects - this came across as an exciting and entertaining musical experience, deserving more approving comment than there is space for here.
But it was with the Music from a Stuart Masque, dances, songs and celebrations from five centuries ago, that a distinctive high spot was reached. The Fine Arts Brass Ensemble altered their techniques again and, helped (accidentally?) by another instrument, the acoustics of the Kirk itself, they gave us the experience of mingling with royalty and nobility listening to a (long-gone) lifestyle being gloriously celebrated.
The second pair of the Tallis voluntaries, both containing a hint of the Mediaeval formal "Complaint", provided a modulation of mood, a suitable transition to the final item in the first half of the programme, the keenly anticipated World Premiãµre of composer Rory Boyle's 'Elegy for the Black Bitch". The story behind Linlithgow's coat of arms can be justifiably classed as myth, but that does not matter: there is an element in the story, not always perceptible in language, of pathos, and Rory Boyle has caught this perfectly in this Elegy, with hints of other matters such as rough justice from a primitive community woven in. Just how this, and more, has been done in music is beyond analysis on the strength of one hearing: enough just now to say that this is a most affecting work which will be heard again and again.
The second half of the programme was devoted entirely to jazz, ten pieces arranged in alphabetical order of composer. There was a chronological element as well, taking us from ragtime and its influence on popular dance music, through blues and swing, to what contemporary musicians - composers and performers - are making of it. A music-history lecture of sorts? Perhaps. Such an opinion surfaces only after post-performance analysis, because on the evening we were submerged in enjoyment, not a little nostalgia (for some of us anyway!) and admiration for the virtuosity displayed. Jazz purists might have been critical about a perceived degree of over-orchestration here and there; but such a criticism may be ignored because whoever had been responsible for any such orchestration had certainly understood what jazz is really about: musical discovery and development.
Virtuosity reached a climax in a most unusual encore, with the trumpets of Angela Whelan and Simon Lenton acting, yes, acting out, Gershwin's "You can't take this away from me."
A most entertaining concert was enhanced by Simon Lenton's introductions and comments - and the presence and public recognition of the two contemporary composers whose works featured so highly in the programme, Rory Boyle and John MacLeod. 
RWS

Gilbert Hudson Lomas Trio, Saturday 22 January 2005

It is highly probable that most of the audience, on reading the pre-concert publicity, did not quite realise that bassoon, oboe, and piano form a by-no-means common trio. That realisation accepted, something intriguing and out of the ordinary might be expected, expectation confirmed by the works listed in the programme; and in fact the Gilbert Hudson Lomas Trio treated us to a most interesting, enjoyable, and piquant musical experience. Let it be made clear right away that we were listening to music composed by masters and performed by masters, both groups in complete control of their medium, both with deep understanding of the capabilities of their instruments, a situation which allows us to focus on the peculiar attractiveness of the programme.

The two opening works, Quantz's formal four-movement Trio and Saint-Saens's Oboe Sonata op. 166 with its ad libitum central section, separated by 150 years as they are, were wonderful demonstrations of the capabilities of bassoon, oboe and piano in terms of the creation of intellectual and emotional response. Quantz certainly employs the remarkable tonal range of the bassoon, contrasting it subtly with the other instruments in neat exchanges; Saint-Saens, it could be said, does the same for the oboe, but, in the movement from andantino to molto allegro he gives far greater scope for interpretation.

The third piece was really intriguing: Böddecker's Sonata sopra la Monica. This German composer of the 1600s is not nearly so well known as it ought to be, and the Monica, an Italian popular song of the early 1600s, is perhaps better known than he is, as many composers have taken their turn at arranging it. The intriguing, not to say puzzling, aspect in this case is that the Monica is a solemn, sad, and soulful lament by a girl forced against her will into becoming a nun - and Böddecker arranged it as a passicaglia, a dance, in the process setting out to test his bassoonist. In doing so, he has the bassoon performing a most curious evolution: seeming to conduct a conversation with itself. Böddecker, organist and cathedral choirmaster, was also a bassoonist.

Then a fast-forward to the 20th century with Poulenc's Trio, with, as might be expected, innovations, experiments, changes in mood and atmosphere: the first movement, Lent'Presto, is almost a march, and contains a recognisable light popular song of the 1920s, all arranged to produce a somewhat astonishing orchestral effect; we might have wondered if this was the same three instruments we had been listening to previously. In the following two movements, the Andante provided exquisite phrasing in the melodies, and the Rondo a rousing gallop. This Trio concluded the first half of the programme, which was packed with variety, with, as it transpired, more variety to come, and now all from the 20th century.

First to England: Alan Bush's Trio, the Adagio melodically colourful, almost giggly, the Poco lento relaxing, with remarkable employment of the instruments' tonal qualities, the Vivace really humorous. A contrast next with Ravel's Pièce en forme d'habanera with wonderful sounds from the solo bassoon. Then an even further, subtly twofold contrast with Benjamin Britten's work for the oboe, Metamorphoses, Pan, and Niobe, the - shall we say lush? - subtropical melodies of Ravel set against the acerbic, wild notes demanded by Britten's subjects, the distinctive timbres of each instrument fully employed in each piece. As is not unusual with Britten, there is a slightly - and enjoyably - weird subtext : calls and echoes through the woods in Pan - and we could almost hear Niobe weeping for her children. And it was a revelation to percieve Mary Gilbert's control of the timing often so vital in Britten's seemingly simple music.

And timing, of a different kind, was vital in the concluding work, the almost magical timing required in an unconducted ensemble, particularly one so demanding as Jean Francaix's four-part Trio. The opening Adagio, Allegro Moderato is an extremely complex arrangement, the Scherzo actually an overlapping series of scherzi culminating massively, the Andante very modern in general idiom, the Finale using a variety of such idioms to great effect.

All in all, a most unusual, entertaining and enlightening concert.   

R.W.S.

Steven Osborne Concert Wednesday 5 January 2005 35th Anniversary Concert

Review in the Herald by Rowena Smith January 7th 2005

The immense effort involved in learning the notoriously difficult piano sonatas of Sir Michael Tippett for the Edinburgh Festival last year may be largely responsible for Stephen Osborne's recent withdrawal from many upcoming engagements, but there is no doubt that learned them he has; consummately penetrating deep beneath the technical complexities to the musical core.
While the first sonata is the most straightforward of the four it is by no means easy, with a lush, romantic exuberance, at times reminiscent of Rachmaninov. However, playing the piece in a recital celebrating the 35th anniversary of the Linlithgow Arts Guild, Osborne made light of the pianistic difficulties, instead focusing on the simple lyricism of what is an intensely melodic work.
In his home town of Linlithgow, Osborne isn't just an internationally acclaimed Scottish pianist; he is the local boy about whom residents are justly proud. It was little surprise then that St Michael's was packed – even though Tippett could hardly be considered standard fare for a local arts society concert.
Nor was this the only unusual work on offer. In the widely varied programme, there were six short pieces from Bartók's final book of Mikrocosmos, bursting with energy and rhythmic brilliance; the Three Page Sonata by Charles Ives, full of the composer's customary fragmented references to his American musical heritage, and the jazzy, bluesy set of three preludes by George Gershwin. There were also two examples of the French music of which Osborne is such a successful exponent: the magical, mysterious La Cathedrale Engloutie from Debussy's first book of Preludes and Ravel's delicate, shimmering Sonatine. All were played in Osborne's characteristically modest manner; laid-back and devoid of flamboyant gestures.
Sponsored by Alan Steel Asset Management.

Hebrides Ensemble 15 March 2003 Sponsored by BP

It is no secret that the performing arts rely on and have always relied upon, subsidies and sponsorship. And it is because of sponsorship, in this instance from BP Grangemouth, that the Arts Guild was enabled to conclude its season's programme with a most impressive concert given in the Academy theatre by one of our country's top-ranking groups of musicians, the Hebrides Ensemble: Lesley Hatfield, violin; Catherine Marwood, viola; William Conway, 'cello; Peter Evans, piano; Neil Fellows, horn; all artists of international renown. The virtuosity of such a group can be taken for granted and was certainly on display, the large audience being treated to a musical experience of the highest order.

The first work performed was Zoltan Kodaly's Duo for Violin and 'Cello. The construction of this three movement piece can be coldly analysed in formal terms, but what emerged in performance was an improvement on that; the instruments were clearly conducting a lively variety of conversations, discussions, sometimes almost violent arguments, and agreements. A bit of a change from his folksongs from Galanta. The second work was less familiar and very intriguing; Gyorgi Ligeti's Trio for Violin, Horn and Piano. Not often do we hear the horn being given such a tricky and specialised part to play, especially in the first slow movement where it subtly harmonises with the violin, or in the second, lively movement where it free-floats around the compelling ground-bass of the piano; or in the remarkable third movement, where, unexpectedly, it elides with the powerful staccato of violin and piano, then comes in, emphatically, to comment on the sudden, brief, and surprising silences. The fourth movement almost defies description in words, opening with a slow, reflective passage in high register of violin and horn developing into a tense contrasting of tempi and tone, with the piano practically growling in the deepest of notes, and the horn fading the piece out with a sustained note in the same register set against the highest note of the violin. The final item on the programme took a step backward in time, with Brahm's Piano Quartet in G minor. Comparison with the previous two works is revealing; it could be said that it showed where Brahms was heading for, and where Kodaly and Ligeti came from. Four movements, all worthy of comment, particularly the playing of viola and violin in the second; the viola in the third contrasting with the immediately preceding march; and most decidedly the wild gypsy abandon of the fourth. All in all, a great ending to a successful Arts Guild season.  RWS.

Alison Smith 1 March 2003

The performance given by the distinguished Classical guitarist Alison Smith at the Arts Guild's concert last Saturday evening might be summed up in one word: enthralling. Why? A combination of factors, with perhaps the main one being Alison's sheer virtuosity. In a programme of works which require an astonishing range of technique, this virtuosity shone through.

First came a cheerful selection of dances from the 16th century, from Michael Praetorius's "Terpsichore", where we were alerted, among other things, to the beautiful tonal quality effortlessly produced in both high and low registers. A selection quite different in effect, and yet the same in that it was dances, followed; sarabandes and gavottes from J.S. Bach's Suite BWV 995. Now this like the Praetorius, is a work not composed for solo guitar, and therefore makes unusual demands on the guitarist; it was performed to perfection. Then a most intriguing work by 20th century German composer H.W. Henze, his "Drei Tentos", a composition built round subtle musical contrasts; very teasing. The next item "Autumn Embers" by P.R. Buttall (and dedicated to Alison) was a complete change; a dramatic, reflective work in conventional approach which certainly fulfilled the promise of its title. A switch of atmosphere again in Piazzola's "Death of the Angel", where a deceptively calm devotional opening moved rapidly to a climax easily described as frightening.

The first work after the interval comprised two Etudes by Villa Lobos, Nos. 11 and 7. Like the Bach dances, breathtaking in the demands made upon the performer; like the Bach dances, stunningly played. (No. 7 contained a lovely melody in descant.) Change of mood and style in the next item - and of place. From Japan, with a classical European format of theme and variations, but with the theme Japanese traditional music; Y. Yocoh's "Sakura", delicate and dainty. The mood changed again with the modern Cuban composer Leo Brouwer's "Praise of the Dance", a work which, in its unexpected deployments of practically every musical technique - the basic melody almost literally danced about - had Alison demonstrating even more mastery of her instrument. Variety followed yet again, sweetness and calm with Angel Barrios's Barcarola and "An Alms for the Love of God", this latter involving marvellous right-hand work. The concluding work, Moreno Torroba's three-section "Sonatina" was, as is proper for the guitar, Spanish; beautifully melodic and rhythmic, with the final Allegro particularly lively, light, and humorous, this set off by powerful low register chords of remarkable tone. The audience - the Kirk Hall was packed - justifiably demanded and received an encore. RWS.

Season 2002/2003 opening concert - Mugenkyo Taiko Drummers

Last Saturday evening (28 September 2002) in the Academy Hall, the Arts Guild opened their season with a concert featuring the Mugenkyo Drummers, which was rich, rare, astonishing - and hugely entertaining. Rich in staging and choreography; rare in its presentation of the culture of a society not that of Europe - Japan; astonishing in the range of musical expression which seemingly simple instruments, drums, tiny cymbals, gongs and a small flute, can produce. Themes of the individual pieces varied from solemn religious adoration to frenetic violence, including the enactment of folk-legend and the representation and invocation of nature's forces in daily life. And all the techniques of music were employed; rhythm predominated, naturally, but, through the differing tonal qualities of the drums, melody and, curiously, harmony were present. Dramatic contrast was most effectively and subtly employed. Between sound and silence; the steady shimmer of the gongs and the multiple variations of the drum-rhythms; the deep thunder of the giant odiako drum and the high pitched chatter of the tiny shime drums. "Chatter" is appropriate; the little drums sounded on occasion like a human voice talking. Not in our language, of course, but this doesn't matter; this was all music, where language is not really needed.

Built into the performance - an essential, as we were informed - is the ebullient athleticism of the performers, itself a dramatic contrast with moments of meditative repose. There was impressive co-operation and teamwork, for the tremendous energy on display was impressively and faultlessly timed and co-ordinated, the most complex of rhythm-patterns - with the drums really beaten - being executed by a group playing with no score and under no conductor, a unity and integrity almost magical, and which renders comment on the contributions of the individual members unnecessary. A magic which extended well beyond the stage, evident when the large audience was invited to participate in the concluding "Festival" piece and in the prolonged demands for curtain calls and encores. The Mugenkyo group gave us something memorable, fascinating, invigorating, - and intriguing.

Bob Smith

Belcea Quartet Saturday 26 October 2002

Like all major pre-Reformation churches, St Michael's Parish Kirk was designed with one purpose in mind: music. The perfection attained by the nameless architects of long-past centuries was demonstrated at the Arts Guild's concert last Saturday evening when its accoustics combined to produce another display of perfection, the Belcea Quartet's performance of string quartets by Haydn, Bartok and Beethoven. To be aware of this Quartet's reputation is one thing: to hear them in performance is to realise that words are not enough.

The Quartet is the standard string quartet, two violins (Corina Belcea and Laura Samuel); viola (Krzysztof Chorzelski); and 'cello (Alasdair Tait). Now, a composer's greatness is said to be found ultimately in the string quartet; this greatness to be matched by the performers, and there is not the slightest doubt that the integration was achieved. They began with Haydn's Opus 50, No. 6. This work is deceptive. In its opening mellow smoothness, it seems typically cheerful Haydn, and in the lively third movement there are hints of folk-dances; yet this quartet has a depth and power, subtly brought out here by the 'cello, especially in the interchanges with the violins and viola. Then in the second item, Bartok's No. 5 Quartet, a change in theme of a remarkable kind, with power of thought and expression very much to the fore; on occasions, we could have been listening to a full-size orchestra. There were great demands made on the performers in this complex and impressive work, demands fulfilled to stunning effect.

The recital ended with Beethoven's No. 14. This choice reflected on the planning of the programme as a whole, because it had curious connections with the preceding two works. It sounded as though Bartok had taken the interwoven - and therefore almost imperceptible - contrasts which Beethoven frequently employs here and expanded them for his own emphatic purposes. And in the first movement, we could well have recognised Haydn, before the piece moves on to pure Beethoven and what he wanted to express; yearning, regret, triumph, exultation; languor set against dramatic intensity, and more, all within a flowing and connected framework of integrity, and the astonishing conclusion could be heard as an exhortation.

The large audience showed that they had been listening to music at its greatest.

Bob Smith

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