soprano Suzanne Atwood and bassoonist Sandra Nikolajevs

ONCE AGAIN, a (large) Charleston audience got a taste of the fine caliber of our local musicians—thanks to Sandra Nikolajevs and her efforts to see Chamber Music Charleston not only flourish but become the standard bearer of classical music as a complete cultural experience.

“A Celebration of France” was presented as an evening of French romantic music, yet instead of the familiar Bolero, Pavane for a Dead Princess, and Claire de Lune we were treated to sophisticated chamber works by Ravel and Fauré—two of France’s most influential composers.

Maurice Ravel, known primarily for his piano and orchestral works, wrote just a handful of chamber pieces and only this one string quartet (in F Major), which he finished in 1903 when he was 28. At the time, however—as classical forms were yielding to romantic expression and being threatened by the “modern” impressionistic style—his quartet was rejected by the Paris Conservatoire. Even Gabriel Fauré, to whom Ravel dedicated it, called it a failure.

I was not familiar with this piece and found it to be at once unsettling and beautiful. Unsettling because of its atonal modernity; beautiful because of its structure, textures, variety, and vivacity. The more I have listened to it (going on six times now since the Saturday night concert), the more amazing I find it. The main theme is gorgeous and haunting. The background colors are mesmerizing and sensuous. The elaborate notation and syncopation (especially in the second movement) are fascinating. It is a meticulously crafted balance of elegant textures and colors encased in a classical quartet form. This satisfying combination is surely why the enthusiastic Memminger audience (of some 400 strong) was held captive by this nuanced piece.

Ruben Camacho, Frances Hsieh, Timothy O’Malley, and Ben Weiss

Kudos to CMC Director, Sandra Nikolajevs, for entrusting us with this music, and thanks to the string players (Ruben Camacho, Frances Hsieh, Timothy O’Malley, and Ben Weiss) for delivering it so superbly. The piece is a serious challenge technically and musically, and this group brought out all of the contrasting and complementary elements in the music. Just a fine performance.

Gabriel Fauré preceded Ravel by 30 years and the latter audited Fauré’s teaching classes at the Conservatoire. In 1883, Fauré (then 38) finished his Piano Quartet in c minor—one of five distinguished chamber works featuring the piano.

Although the piano is highlighted in this quartet, it languishes in the background of the first movement as the strings vigorously develop the theme amidst a charming, spirited, elaborate conversation—as only the French can do. In subsequent movements, the piano comes to the fore without, however, dominating the strings. In fact, one of the nice things about this work is the full treatment given to each of the instruments. The piano—the authoritative leader in certain passages—also provides a lush backdrop that both solidifies and romanticizes the string playing.

Irina Pevzner

The third movement (Adagio) is especially grand and gorgeous, with the scale and drama of a concerto that ends with perfect poise. The Allegro molto fourth movement adds a robust and ultimately furious finale to this velvety, complex composition.

Nicely sandwiched between Ravel’s intricacy and Fauré’s intensity was Emmanuel Chabrier’s delicate L’Invitation au Voyage (1870) which was based on a poem by his friend, Charles Baudelaire. It is a rare, if not the only, work ever written for the very pleasing combination of piano, bassoon, and soprano. Pianist Irina Pevzner, bassoonist Sandra Nikolajevs, and soprano Suzanne Atwood brought it alive in a way that made us feel we were in a Paris nightclub.

Chabrier was also friends with impressionistic painters Claude Monet and Édouard Manet. Not coincidentally, this early work (1870) presaged what would become the impressionistic style of music. As explained by www.answers.com, the piece “is curiously static in harmony, with unusual chords used in a striking new way. In particular passages the colorfully dissonant ninth chord is introduced without preparation: it is not flowed into by the preceding harmonies, nor flowed out of to the next. Instead, the chord appears as a sudden effect of musical color, which is just the way Debussy would habitually use such chords after he came to maturity nearly two decades later.”

But as one critic has said, “The revolutionary nature of the song does not alter the fact that it is exceptionally beautiful music.”

Learn more about upcoming Memminger concerts at www.ChamberMusicCharleston.org

violinist Yuriy Bekker and composer Edward Hart

Edward Hart’s “love letter to South Carolina”—his latest violin concerto formally entitled Under an Indigo Sky—will premier at the Gaillard Auditorium on Saturday, February 11, 2012. Charleston Symphony Orchestra concertmaster Yuriy Bekker (for whom the piece was written) will be featured with the orchestra led by guest conductor Darko Butorac, the Music Director of the Missoula Symphony Orchestra.

In the video below, the soloist and composer talk about their collaboration on this work—and about the 1686 Stradivarius violin that Yuriy will play for this occasion.

Each of the three movements is dedicated to a region of South Carolina: “Fast Flowing Rivers” for Columbia and the Midlands, “Warm Salt Air” for Charleston and the Coast, and “Misty Blue Horizon” for Greenville and the Upstate (see the composer’s notes below).

This CSO Masterworks Series concert will take place at 7:30 P.M. at the Gaillard Auditorium. The program for the concert includes Zoltán Kodály’s Dances of Galánta, Edward Hart’s Under an Indigo Sky, and Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7 in A Major, Opus 92. Learn more at CharlestonSymphony.com.

Notes by the Composer

Under an Indigo Sky
Concerto for Violin and Orchestra
Written for Yuriy Bekker

It is a privilege to have your music played by an exceptionally gifted musician. It is especially meaningful when that performer is your friend. That is why I am very thankful to have had the opportunity to write this violin concerto for my friend, Yuriy Bekker. Since first meeting some years ago, I have wanted to write him a substantial work not only because we are friends, but because he plays the violin the way I would want to if I could play. In short, he makes all the right musical choices. I am also fortunate that we share much in common as it relates to musical taste and style.

In a way, Under an Indigo Sky is a love letter to my home state, South Carolina. I am continually amazed and thankful for the natural and cultural diversity of this relatively small place. I have attempted to musically capture three distinct yet related regions of our state with an eye not only to the landscapes, but the feel and “soul” of the places.

Movement I
Fast Flowing Rivers –The Midlands
The Broad, Congaree, and Saluda Rivers are an important part of the greater Columbia landscape. At times, especially after heavy rain, these rivers move quickly creating an impressive natural display and an interesting metaphor for Columbia’s role in our state, a place of fast flowing and powerful political, educational, and economic currents. At other times, these rivers can flow gracefully and gently through the countryside reflecting the warm and genteel nature of the people of the Midlands.

Movement II
Warm Salt Air – The Coast
With its coastal location and sub-tropical climate, Coastal South Carolina’s weather can sometimes resemble a warm, wet, briny blanket. Though this might seem uncomfortable to some, these qualities in the right measurements can produce a lush and magical atmosphere. Imagine a May sunset over looking the water with just the right temperature and a sea breeze moving softly through the Palmetto trees.

Movement III
Misty Blue Horizon – The Upstate
The Blue Ridge Mountains, which dominate the Northern horizon, seem to give the Upstate a cool verdant freshness found in no other region of South Carolina. The early morning light offers dramatic vistas filled with broad strokes of blue, green, and purple. This landscape elicits a sense of awe, wonder, and reverent reflection along with a sense of gratitude toward its Creator.

photo by Daniel Schloss

LEE-CHIN SIOW is the Director of Strings and Professor of Violin at the College of Charleston, and co-founder and artistic co-director of Charleston Music Fest.

She has been recognized and awarded in her home country of Singapore as well as in her adopted home of South Carolina and Charleston, from where she regularly travels to perform around the globe.

She is also a big believer in the importance of classical music in our lives and in our education of youth.

In the video below, Lee-Chin talks about playing as a concert soloist and about teaching the violin—both of which she does with conviction and passion.

Her latest CD, Songs My Father Taught Me, topped HMV’s classical music charts and was picked for Fanfare Magazine’s 2009 Want List.

In this case, the ‘‘bistro’ will be at 56 Beaufain Street on Saturday, February 4, when Chamber Music Charleston presents its second installment of the Kuhn & Kuhn Law Firm Memminger Concert Series.

Come early to sip some French wine provided by Total Wine (by the glass), and to enjoy delicious bistro boxes by Whole Foods Market (pre-ordered). Seats will be available at tables in front of the stage and in the risers. But that’s not all. In true continental style, the evening will conclude with a reception provided by the Alliance Française de Charleston where you can taste delectable French food items, mingle with other guests, and meet the musicians.

(And don’t forget the special Kids Concert—“Ferdinand the Bull” for Wind Quintet—at 1:00 P.M. the same day. Learn more about that here.)

A Little About the Composers and Music

Emmanuel Chabrier’s 1870 L’Invitation au Voyage is based on a poem by Charles Baudelaire. The music features dream-like melodies (soprano and bassoon) against an ethereal, impressionistic backdrop (piano).

Maurice Ravel is regarded as one of the great French composers of all time and his frequently performed String Quartet in F is considered his first true masterpiece. In the early 1900s, however, he was considered a “bad boy” of French music—drinking and partying with a debauched group of artists called “Les Apaches” and composing music in a way that had not been heard before. When he showed the first movement of his String Quartet in F to a panel of judges at the Paris Conservatory, it was met with disapproval and he was expelled—for a third and final time.

At the first public performance of the complete quartet the audience showed great enthusiasm while the critics were harsh and deprecating. Fortunately, Ravel was not disheartened. He continued to compose in his original style, going on to create such acclaimed works as Bolero, Daphnis et Chloe, and Le Tombeau de Couperin.  

Gabriel Faure’s Piano Quartet in c minor, written between 1876 and 1879, exudes French charm with shimmering piano accompaniment set against lush singing tones of the strings.

When & Where
February 4 • Memminger Auditorium
Pre-concert bistro opens at 6:30 • concert at 7:30
Tickets: $35 bistro table • $25 general seating • $5 students
Note: bistro boxes must be ordered in advance (contact Sandra at the 2 options below)

www.ChamberMusicCharleston.org
(843) 763-4941

Conductor Joann Falletta

CONDUCTOR JOANN FALLETTA represents the best of what classical music is all about, and it rubs off—as it did Thursday night at the Gaillard Auditorium where she led the Charleston Symphony Orchestra in a lyrically rich program of Russian-European music.

This may have been the best we have heard the CSO play, and much of the credit goes to Maestro Falletta for her understated precision, her inspired leadership, and her willingness to let the musicians shine.

She, however, deflects the praise. When I thanked her for the performance, she responded: “The orchestra was wonderful.” I later heard her say: “The concert is the orchestra’s concert, not the conductor’s. It belongs to the orchestra. It is their sound. The conductor does not make a sound. The conductor’s responsibility is to create a landscape where excellence can flourish; to create that possibility.”

How refreshing to see a world-renowned conductor who does not carry herself like an “artiste,” who is not preoccupied with convincing audiences by means of showmanship, and whose expertise speaks for itself.

Watching Mrs. Falletta on stage, you get the impression that she does serious homework with the orchestra in rehearsals, then lets the performance unfold naturally (rather than in ultra-controlled fashion) under her attentive but not overbearing baton.

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This very special concert started with the Overture from Alexander Borodin’s (1833-1887) opera, Prince Igor, a work that was finished by fellow Russian composers Alexander Glazunov and Nikolai Rimksy-Korsakov (1844-1908) after Borodin died unexpectedly in 1887. The overture itself is said to show mainly the influence of Glazunov, and it provided a colorful introduction to an evening of dazzling display by the CSO and guest violin soloist, Michael Ludwig.

Michael Ludwig • photo by Emily Everett

Mr. Ludwig, who is concertmaster of the Buffalo Philharmonic (which Mrs. Falletta directs), was featured in the romantic Symphonie espagnole of French composer Édouard Lalo (1823-1892) who wrote the work for Spanish virtuoso, Pablo de Sarasate. This five-movement piece (labeled a symphony by the composer but considered a suite by others) is often played without its middle movement. As Dr. William Gudger said in his pre-concert talk, the additional Intermezzo movement tends to “muddy” the whole thing so violinists choose to leave it out—which effectively renders it a concerto that features spectacular and tireless violin playing.

Mr. Ludwig performs with major orchestras around the world and it was evident why. He has a crisp technique, a song-like tone, and an undemonstrative yet engaging presence on stage. Periodically he sweeps one foot to the side in a waltz-like step, then pulls the other foot to join it as though he is stepping out of his own way before launching into another lunge of the bow. When things really get going, he leans back, points his violin to the sky, and unleashes all abandon. It is a dramatic, yet genuine gesture—which reflects the character of his unique music making.

As an encore, and in perfect contrast to the exhaustive Lalo piece, he played the silky Meditation from Thaïs by Jules Massenet (1842-1912). This could easily have marked the end of the evening, but we were only at intermission!

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Maestro Falletta says she has performed Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade, Opus 35 with some 20 or 30 orchestras (which is probably why she could conduct without a score in front of her) and that it is a nice way for her to get to know an orchestra, partly because the work has so many solo passages—“hard solos,” as she said, that leave the players very exposed.

(On a side note, principal flutist Jessica Hull-Dambaugh delivered her baby earlier than expected, so the second chair, Regina Helcher Yost, had to step up with barely 24 hours notice and play several demanding solos. Regina not only came through with shining colors, but stood out with her smooth, pure tone. It was a testament to the caliber of musicians in this orchestra.)

In addition to Scheherazade’s many solos, it highlights whole sections of the orchestra. For instance, just the violins play, then the violas, then full duties pass to the cellos and bases, on to the woodwinds, then to the brass section, and so on. On this night, the woodwind and brass players were also on risers where we could clearly see (and more fully appreciate) them. The riser effect enhanced the sound with brighter colors—which perfectly suited Rimsky Korsakov’s broad range of colors and motifs.

His tapestry of sounds is lushly textured, mysterious, romantic, dramatic, and at times poignantly sad. The frenetic finale, where all the fabrics and colors get tied together, is as gorgeous as it is powerful.

Many listeners may know this music from the adapted score for Russian-choreographer Michel Fokine’s twentieth-century ballet by the same name. Well, it is even more mesmerizing when heard in its entirety and for itself. There is one explosive section near the end, followed by an exquisite, delicate conclusion, that could epitomize the beginning of creation. It’s as though all the elements of the universe are being powerfully conceived and assembled, then sent gently on their way through creation with a tinge of parting sadness. It is exotic, haunting, memorable music.

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The music aside, this concert was particularly special because of the graciousness of Joann Falletta and Michael Ludwig. Having two world-class guest musicians on the Gaillard stage at the same time is, in itself, wonderful. Their magnanimity made it even more so. Although Mr. Ludwig had to leave town right away, Maestro Falletta stayed two more nights in support of the orchestra. She attended a CSO donors reception one evening and a fundraiser the next simply because she believes in this orchestra and wants to see it thrive.

It was a heartfelt gesture, rare in the profession, and extremely fortunate for our arts community.

In between those events, she also found time to do an hour-long orchestra reading (a sort of master class) with the College of Charleston Orchestra. She led students through several movements of a piece they had recently performed, instructing them on different ways to approach the music, and answering their questions. Among other things, she mentioned how important it is for them to consistently look at and listen to each other while playing—something that distinguishes the best orchestras—and to always treat their playing as chamber music in the sense of communication, camaraderie, and mutual support; and to play even base-line sections as melodies—not to simply “follow” the lead voices. In a matter of minutes she had them playing tighter as a group and producing a deeper, richer sound.

What an opportunity and inspiration for these kids, whom she told, “even those of you who will not go on to become professional musicians, you will always be musicians inside and you will never forget the experience of being members of this orchestra,” which is now under the guidance of CSO’s concertmaster, Yuriy Bekker.

Yuriy himself—after several days of rehearsing and performing with Joann Falletta, then watching her inspire our musicians, audiences, and sponsors—remarked how incredibly fortunate our entire arts community is to host such a highly acclaimed conductor who is also an extremely kind, generous, and loving person.

Maestro, you left your indelible mark on this city. Thank you.

Menahem Pressler

YOU CAN ALWAYS count on the College of Charleston’s International Piano Series (IPS) to bring the Holy City a complete and varied cross-section of the pianist’s art. From brilliant young sensations, through mid-career masters, to legendary “elder statesmen” of their instrument—Charleston audiences are blessed to hear some of the very finest of each. But—at least to my ears (and soul)—the latter legendary category is the most rewarding and memorable. For decades now, series Director Enrique Graf has managed to bring us “golden age” masters like Abbey Simon, Earl Wild, and Leon Fleisher—all of whom brought long lifetimes of performing experience, interpretive refinement and musical reflection to bear upon their art. They (and a few others) have been the brightest jewels in the College’s artistic crown.

And that crown acquired another such jewel last Wednesday evening, when Menahem Pressler got down to delightful business at the Sottile Theatre. Maestro Pressler is best-known as the founding (and current) pianist of the fabled Beaux Arts Trio—which has helped set the standard for chamber music performance worldwide. The trio—in near-constant activity for over 50 years—is still spoiling us with of definitive recordings of the great masterpieces of their genre. I own (and dearly cherish) many of them. But what many (including me) have never realized is that Pressler has simultaneously maintained a thriving solo career as well… for which I am grateful, as I have now been able to lose myself—completely and joyfully—in the sublime music-making of yet another great master of his instrument.

So then, what makes Pressler’s playing so special? In a word, I’d have to say “fidelity”—fidelity to the essential spirit and interpretive intentions of the composer. Some great pianists—owing to their singular brand of genius—can get away with quirky personal mannerisms (like Glenn Gould) or flashy, self-serving technical display (like Vladimir Horowitz). But you’ll never hear such personal idiosyncrasies in this artist’s playing. Pressler’s approach is to search for and distill the artistic truth in the music itself—not to obscure or distort it with the colors and characteristics of his own personality. Quite simply, he is a true and self-effacing servant of the music at hand.  And it showed in his selections for the evening’s program, which included two of the deepest and most inscrutable piano masterpieces ever written: works that speak profoundly for themselves. And Pressler let them do exactly that.

Ludwig van Beethoven’s late sonatas are among the most profound musical utterances we have. Poor Ludwig had been totally deaf for well over a decade by the time he wrote it—and his only sound-world was the one inside his head. Thus the works of his final years—especially the late sonatas and string quartets—often reach a level of near-cosmic depth and mystery that leaves critics grasping in vain for the words to do them justice. And so it is in the case of his Piano Sonata No. 31 in A-flat, Op. 110 (1821)—though it is somewhat more accessible than the other late sonatas. The outright loveliness of the laid-back and outgoing first movement (Moderato cantabile, molto espressivo) even seems somehow incongruous, given the master’s reputation as a crusty old misanthrope at the time. Never thunderous or threatening, the varied melodic impulses and graceful flourishes coalesce smoothly into a seamless lyrical flow that—under Pressler’s sure hands—gained a sense of particular warmth and intimacy. He emphasized the cantabile (“like singing”) part of the movement’s marking, and gave the music a particularly amiable glow. Yet he saw to it that the sensitive listener is consistently surprised and delighted at the music’s subtle, brain-teasing shifts and flights of heavenly fantasy.

The fleeting, but much more emphatic second movement (Allegro molto) came almost as a shock, breaking the preceding music’s happy spell—though Pressler kept it short of outright violence. It was the perfect foil to the succeeding Adagio ma non troppo, wherein the almost improvisatory opening passages lead into the Arioso dolente: one of Beethoven’s most sadly exquisite slow melodies.—and our artist brought out every bit of its tragic pathos while avoiding maudlin sentiment. The final stately and rarefied fugue—marked Allegro ma non troppo—begins softly, but gains rapidly in muscular intensity. Pressler’s masterly dynamic control and tempo balances always left him somewhere to go—and his clear voicing of the contrapuntal lines helped his listeners stay with him at every turn. In the softer central interlude, he plumbed depths that defy description—before delivering the fugue’s rousing and triumphant final flourish.

Maestro Pressler then took us into a completely different sound-world with three of Claude Debussy’s atmospheric and evocative piano pieces, known collectively as Estampes (1903). Inspired by the Paris World’s Fair of 1889, all three pieces—as with most of his music—are impressionistic tone-paintings that are more works of texture, mood and imagery than of melody. In Pagodes, one of his inspirations was the hypnotic Javanese Gamelan style. Our esteemed artist combined adroit finger- and pedal-work to produce a drifting haze of tinkling, coruscating notes in the pentatonic mode—evoking a misty, but distinctly Asian landscape. Distinct, but mostly subdued Spanish flavors permeate La Soirée dans Grenade, the second number—employing the Moorish (or Arabic) tonalities that so much Iberian music is based on. Again, Pressler made something magical of it, entrancing us with his dreamy and gentle approach to this Spanish reverie—as well as his wealth of tone-colors. But he revealed his more forceful side in the final Jardins sous la Pluie: a musical image of a garden as seen through a wind-driven, ever-heavier rainstorm. He sustained the piece’s tense and stormy atmosphere beautifully—even during “lulls” in the storm—while doing full justice to the piece’s considerable technical demands.

After intermission, Pressler returned to beguile our ears and stir the deepest recesses of our souls with Franz Schubert’s Sonata in B-Flat, D. 960—one of the most sublime among the gush of deathless masterpieces that Schubert poured out in 1828: the final year of his tragically short life (only 31 years). He knew he was slowly dying—and thus embodied in his late music a jumble of mixed feelings: profound grief, fear, and outrage at having to leave the world he loved so soon—but he never failed to reconcile such negative emotions with beauty and calm. Thus Schubert—already musically manic-depressive by nature—takes us here on a roller-coaster ride through his psyche: tormented and angry one moment; serene and accepting the next.

Ah, if only more pianists would give us the kind of Schubert that Pressler did. So many pianists tend to exaggerate or distort his many passages of searing beauty—and it’s so easy to overdo Schubert’s gut-wrenching emotional outpourings and make something grotesque of them. But Pressler knows his Schubert—and he realizes that the best approach to this magical composer is to deliver his creations in a simple, serene, and straightforward manner. He knows how to allow Schubert‘s striking melodic invention, harmonic wizardry, and gripping sentiments to speak for themselves—and far more eloquently than when they’re filtered through a quirky personality or laden with needless interpretive adjustments. Everything the listener needs is THERE, right in the music—all the performer needs to do is to bring it to life with sensitivity to the composer’s spirit and expressive intentions.

As I said in my initial program notes—analysis of style, structure, or individual movements is almost futile here. Suffice it to say that Pressler—in suspending his own personality—found Schubert’s. He never lingered overlong on even the most exquisitely beautiful passages—and his phrasing and dynamics were perfect; never forced or distorted. His warm and steady (but never mechanical) approach made for exceptionally smooth transitions in Schubert’s many mood swings and key changes. Some may have complained about the “heavenly lengths” of his late sonatas—but in the hands of a master like Pressler, you’d have to be a hamster not to hang on Schubert’s every note and nuance.

In sum, this was a truly singular and unforgettable reading of this paragon among Schubert’s piano compositions. But what I was most grateful for was the bottomless sense of peaceful resignation that Pressler brought to this transcendental work—a sense that could perhaps only be fully conveyed by a man, who—in the twilight of his own years—knows something about facing mortality. And it is just that aspect—more than anything else—that made his performance of this sonata the most rewarding and revealing interpretation I’ve ever heard in concert.

The Boston Brass is made up of five players from all over the map. The Brass All-Stars comprise ten more brass and percussion players (including one young lady from Mt. Pleasant who is a natural-born trumpeter). Using arrangements from Stan Kenton to those of the performers, serious and humorous Christmas carol re-writes tickled the fancy of the Gaillard assembly who gladly and enthusiastically participated in several of the items on the program.

To say the performers are spectacular and technical musical wizards is an understatement. Whether solo, combos or all 15 players at once, the effect was dizzying and dazzling. Incorporating jazz, ragtime, Latin, and pop styles, the musicians (all professional and some who are professors and composers) left nothing more to be desired.

Many of these musicians play with top orchestras, have made numerous recordings as back-up to well-known pop and jazz singers and recorded the Boston Brass’ own compact discs. Their delightful repartee with the audience and their home-spun sense of humor delivered by several of the players added immeasurably to the spirit of the entertaining evening.

After you would think they were all out of breath, they performed a single encore, “Jingle Bells” in a Motown version that capped an exceptional evening of top-flight music-making.

For 25 years, the Boston Brass has entertained and educated around the world. With television broadcasts and commissions, they have made a significant place for themselves. The Charleston Concert Association is to be commended for bringing them to Charleston at this Christmas time.

Members of the Taylor Festival Choir

SATURDAY NIGHT WAS THREE Christmas concerts in one: a healthy dose of choral music, a little foot-stomping fiddlin’, and an Irish-music ensemble featuring a guitarist, singer, and songwriter—all under the creative hand of Robert Taylor in “Now We Sing of Christmas” at the Cathedral of St. Luke andSt. Paul.

As usual with the Dr. Taylor’s productions, it was a tasteful, eclectic mix of music in a spirited, entertaining evening.

With chorus members—candles in hand—lining the aisles and balconies, soprano Kori Miller came on stage and slowly uttered a series of hauntingly beautiful notes (echoed by other sopranos in the aisles) from “Sanctus,” part of a Celtic Mass by Irish-born, contemporary composer Michael McGlynn. This work is known for “evoking a powerful sense of peace,” so appropriate for a Christmas concert.

Watching Robert Taylor conduct, I realized how much the whole production, as well as the conducting, is his personal canvas, and how much he relishes the experience. He selects the pieces, adds his arrangements to some of them, writes the narration, finds companion poems and stories (even some jokes), and weaves everything into a musical tapestry.

Two good examples were “Estampie Natalis” by twentieth-century composer Vaclav Nelhybel (who died at age 39), and the popular “The Little Drummer Boy” (originally titled “The Carol of the Drum”) written in 1941 by American classical composer Katherine Kennicott Davis. In the first, a drum beat gives the piece a tribal rhythm, while in the second work a similar rhythm is supplied by the slow-rumbling bass voices.

Dr. Robert Taylor

But what stood out was the texture of both compositions and how much they evince Dr. Taylor’s love of musical complexity, sound layers, and nuances of orchestration. He is a perfectionist when it comes to the notes, but something else became apparent as he stood with his score in near darkness, urging his singers on: that he is pleasantly obsessed with extracting the exact pitch, tempo, dynamics, and synchronization—not for their own sake, but to reach and convey a sense of spiritual serenity. Yes, the best music—like the best painting, dance, and theatre— is always about more than itself. But first you have to get “it” right, as Robert Taylor well knows.

In another song, “Lux Aurumque” (Light of Gold) by the popular young American composer and conductor Eric Whitacre, Dr. Taylor filled his musical canvas with the quietest singing I have ever heard. It was wondrous sound, yet it was as close to silence as sound can get. Delicate and stunning, and just one indication of the devotion of his chorus.

Another indication came in the traditional Irish Christmas carol, “Wexford Carol,” arranged by Dr. Taylor and featuring the rich bass voice of guest artist, Benjamin Lee. The brief pauses were as palpable as the singing in this lyrical piece in which we could see, feel, and hear the entire chorus breathing as one. Surely it is moments like this which give so much satisfaction to chorus members and conductors.

The same can be said for Na Fidléirí, the local fiddling group (of kids 8 to 18) who played three Irish songs with impeccable unity. This is a lively, charming, disciplined group who know their music. Watching them is enough to inspire any parent to want their child to learn an instrument, not just for musical ability, but for the concentration, dedication, and demeanor it builds. The founder of Na Fidléirí is Mary Taylor, who teaches—with equal effectiveness—the Suzuki method at Ashley Hall.

Talk about a musical family: Robert and Mary also have a 17-year-old daughter, Kiri, whose soprano voice sparkled in one of the evening’s choral solos. Not surprisingly, she exhibits the same ability and focus as her parents.

John Doyle

Between the contemplative choral music and the Irish foot-stompin’, we also heard several songs by the velvety-smooth acoustical guitar player, John Doyle, who is known for his harmonic and rhythmic expertise. John is regarded as “one of the most influential and important musicians in Irish music” and “a world-class interpreter of traditional songs.” What a joy to hear a folk-guitar master who, with his stage presence, demonstrates what it means to be a captivating performer as well as musician.

Joining Mr. Doyle was the Green Isles Ensemble that comprises Susan Conant (flutes and whistles), Mary Taylor (fiddle), Charmaine Leclair (cello), Phyllis Mauney (harp), Ryan Leveille (percussion), Laura Turner (keyboards), and Jake Lilley (guitar). They did not get center stage, but they certainly helped make this unique holiday concert a success.

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It  is worth noting, too, that the front of the chancel was sharply lit by spotlights mounted in the balcony, giving the “stage” a theatrical look. The musicians and chorus were also amplified with professional microphones that delivered a rich sound into the cavernous apse of this magnificent building. During other concerts here I have often remarked to myself about the dim, gray-blue lighting. This evening was a pleasant exception. And it was nice for a change not to have telephone-pole recording mikes obscuring the audience’s view, as is so often the case at musical events these days.

What’s up next for the Taylor Music Group? Find out here.

With Mr. Pressler as the Trio’s only pianist for nearly 55 years, the New York Times described the Trio as “in a class by itself” while the Washington Post dubbed it “the gold standard for trios.”

The trio, which comprised a variety of string players during its long run, officially disbanded in 2008. Mr. Pressler, however, now 87, continues to captivate chamber and solo piano audiences with his unique interpretive style and extensive performing experience. He is also an influential teacher who, “for nearly 60 years, has taught on the piano faculty at the renowned Indiana University Jacobs School of Music as a Distinguished Professor of Music and the Charles Webb Chair.”

Throughout his distinguished career, Mr. Pressler has been known for giving “an almost heroic cast” to music by means of his romantic treatment, and for delving to emotional depths that seem out of the musical reach of many pianists. There is a magical glow to the man and his music, and to the lingering effects of both on his listeners.

Wednesday, December 14
8 PM • Sottile Theatre, 44 George St • (843) 953-6575
Tickets $20 at the door
(under 18 and CofC students free)

Program Notes by Lindsay Koob

Completed on Christmas day, 1821, the Piano Sonata No. 31, Op. 110, holds a special place as Beethoven’s only composition dating from that year. In part it is because he was simultaneously working on his Missa Solemnis and Ninth Symphony and in part because he was sick, deaf, discouraged, lacking love and companionship, and beset by all sorts of family and financial difficulties. Nonetheless, the A-flat sonata proves to be a warm, glowing personal statement, and it is probably the most frequently performed of the late sonatas.

Beethoven exercised particular care in including directions to the performer in this sonata. As an example, he marked the first-movement tempo Moderato cantabile, molto espressivo (“moderate speed, songlike, with much expression”), but in case there was any doubt, he added the further words of guidance “con amabilità” (“sweetly, lovingly”). Without any powerful climaxes to interrupt the lyrical flow, the first movement is leisurely and relaxed, tender and intimate. Although organized in sonata-allegro form, there are more than the typical two distinctive, contrasting themes. Rather, a great number of phrases interconnect in a seemingly endless stream of melody without obscuring the outline of the formal structure.

Usually performed with virtually no pause (as are all the subsequent movements) the scherzo-like Allegro molto—fast, spirited, and with dramatic dynamic alternations—almost feels like an intrusion, immediately smashing the mood that Beethoven has so carefully established. A naïve subsidiary theme follows that is believed to be an allusion to a popular Viennese streetsong of the time, “Ich bin liederlich.” The middle section, corresponding to the trio of a scherzo, has the right hand busily scurrying along with dynamic punctuations by left hand off-beats. A repeat of the opening and a brief coda end this highly concentrated movement.

The third and fourth movements can be considered one unit. The slow third movement starts with an extended recitative—a style of writing that is rhythmically and metrically free, based on the flexible, natural patterns of human speech. At its conclusion comes the Arioso dolente (“sad song”), one of the most poignant, touching slow melodies of Beethoven’s last period, sung simply over an accompaniment of repeated chords. After the Arioso fades away, Beethoven begins the crowning movement of the sonata, the fugue.

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Debussy’s music is often associated with the contemporary impressionist movement in painting, and his approach shares some characteristics of this style. “The primary aim of French music,” Claude Debussy wrote in 1904, “is to give pleasure.” Debussy was interested in, more than anything, the sensuous quality of music. Even as a student he let his concept of sound override many of the rules he was so assiduously taught by his teachers (much to their consternation). From this he developed a style that was wholly his own, but that also owed much to a wide variety of disparate influences. He also was a passionate champion of a purely French style, and he proudly referred to himself as “Claude Debussy, musicien français.”

His middle years, during which Estampes was written, saw Debussy become more popular throughout Europe. He wrote primarily for the piano during this period, and many of his most lovely, evocative pieces were composed during this time. Estampes, written in 1903, was inspired by Debussy’s visit to the World’s Fair in Paris in 1889. Indonesian gamelan music influenced the composition of Pagodes, while Soirée dans Grenade uses the Arabic scale and mimics guitar strumming to evoke images of Granada, Spain. At the time of its writing, Debussy’s only personal experience with the country was a few hours spent in San Sebastián. Despite this, the Spanish composer Manuel de Falla said of Soirée, “There is not even one measure of this music borrowed from the Spanish folklore, and yet the entire composition in its most minute details, conveys admirably Spain.” Jardins sous la pluie describes a garden in Debussy’s native France during an increasingly violent rainstorm. It makes use of the French folk melodies Nous n’irons plus aux bois (We’ll Not Return to the Woods) and Dodo, l’enfant do (Sleep, Child, Sleep).

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No other composer ever produced such a profusion of stupendous masterpieces in a single year than Franz Schubert did in 1828: the final year of his outrageously short life of 31 years. As progressive health problems piled up after contracting syphilis years earlier, Schubert knew he was slowly dying—and the works from his final year embody both his fear of death and his well-justified outrage at having to leave the beauties of the world that he loved so soon. One of the supreme among these final works is the monumental Piano Sonata in B-Flat Major, D 960, the final instrumental composition that he completed, just two months before he died.

Many music writers have tried—and failed—to come to terms with the profound “heavenly lengths” of Schubert’s final sonata. He was not as concise, logical, or as well-organized as, say, Mozart or Beethoven. Schubert simply followed his muse, gushing almost uncontrollably—and let his musical pearls fall where they may. I will therefore avoid detailed analysis of this wondrous and enigmatic music, and simply encourage you to let the music sink into your heart and soul, and tell you the tale of a man who went knowingly to his final fate before he was ready. Just listen from your heart, and he will reveal to you the almost unbearable beauty and bitter grief of his story far better than any writer can.

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See the entire 2010-2011 International Piano Series schedule.

The International Piano Series is directed by CofC Artist-in-Residence, Enrique Graf.

Fiddler Liz Carroll and Guitarist John Doyle

HERE IS NOT just another recording of a Christmas music collection. Local conductor Robert Taylor is one of those gifted musicians whose imagination and musical skills has brought together a talented group of singers and instrumentalists who bring life and joy in a classical and Celtic fashion to this mix of traditional and rarely heard Christmas inspirations, which you can hear this Saturday night at the Cathedral of St. Luke and St. Paul. Learn more.

Among the recording’s items are “I Saw Three Ships,” “In the Bleak Midwinter,” “Sing We Now of Christmas,” Wexford Carol,” “Coventry Carol,” and “Little Drummer Boy.” There is also Ralph Vaughan Williams’ settings of “Wassail” and “Children’s Song of the Nativity.” Plus: Stephen Paulus’ “Gabriel’s Message.,” John Tavener’s “Today the Virgin,” Eric Whiteacre’s “Lux Aurumque,” and “Sanctus” from Celtic Mass by Michael McGlynn.” And more.

While you may know these (or most of them), you probably don’t know them as arranged and performed here. The accompaniment is as varied as the ages of the instruments. They are an exciting and different instrumental collection. There is Kim Robertson’s Celtic harp, sparkling with an otherworldly air about it.

Adding to the Celtic spirit are Liz Carroll’s fiddle and violin and John Doyle’s guitar and mandola, Natalia Khoma’s cello, and Susan Conant’s flute, D whistle, alto recorder, and garklein adding more to the sonic picture. And there is percussionist Danny Mallon with bodhran, jingle bells, agogo bells, finger cymbals, tambourine, and drums. All are top musicians in their respective fields.

The Taylor Music Group

There are the expert singers also. They are a select group of 28 (seven each: soprano, alto, tenor, and bass) who form a small, but full-voiced chamber group noted for their wide range of repertoire from medieval times to the present era. Soloists are mostly drawn from the Festival Choir, with the exception of tenor Taylor himself and his young daughter Kiri who possesses a beautiful crystalline soprano voice.

This recording was done in the Cathedral of St. Luke and St. Paul in Charleston, an excellent recording venue (where the group will perform these pieces this Saturday, Dec. 10 at 7:30 P.M.) The tonal balance has realism and the overall clarity is well-defined, along with a natural, non-interfering reverberation.

This project is the brain-child of Robert and his wife Mary Taylor, who is a violinist on this disc. Where do you find it? Try Barnes and Noble here in Charleston and maybe even Amazon.com.

“Sing we now of Christmas” – Taylor Festival Choir, Robert Taylor conductor – MSR Classics MS 1292, 59:42 [Distributed by Albany]

Learn more at taylormusicgroup.org.