Shawstruck
A dazzling program highlighted a new choral masterpiece with a Baroque tinge
Period-instrument ensembles like the Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra & Chorale exist to play music on certain types of physical equipment, with certain stylistic assumptions built in. Surely it follows, then, that the repertoire itself should be restricted to music of the 18th century, right? I mean, it’s right there in the name.
Well, not so fast. One of the wonderful developments of recent decades is the growing number of composers and performers who have realized that the world of Baroque and other early music represents a resource for creating new and inventive music. Case in point: The Holdfast, a magnificently beautiful and evocative quasi-cantata by composer Caroline Shaw, which had its commissioned U.S. premiere during Philharmonia’s concert on Friday night.
Shaw’s five-movement opus is mostly a choral setting of Thomas Hardy’s poem “The Darkling Thrush,” with added material by the composer that includes a range of botanical interjections (Latin names of lichen species, common names of trees). It’s a dazzling creation in its own right, full of elegant tonal harmonies and gently respectful of Hardy’s characteristically Edwardian gloom.
Yet what also strikes a listener is the way Shaw’s whole conception rests upon the slightly archaic sound world of the Baroque. The first song, “The Pulse,” uses sparse single notes from the harpsichord, the lute-like theorbo, and individual violins played pizzicato, to create a bleak tick-tock that evokes not only the physical details of Hardy’s wintry landscape but also the unstoppable passage of time he finds reflected there. The choral textures sound superficially Baroque, if not for the fact that the harmonies have been freed from their 18th-century constraints and set loose to find new paths. And when the chorus goes further, bursting into a buzzing confusion of botanical recitations, the effect is as startling and touching as something out of György Ligeti.
Valérie Saint-Agathe, who directs the Philharmonia Chorale (as well as the San Francisco Girls Chorus, which offered up some pre-concert seasonal amuse-bouches), led the entire program with that generous flexibility that good choral conductors tend to cultivate. The evening began with a quick double feature of the Latin Christmas carol “Quem pastores laudavere,” first in the spare 16th-century version by Michael Praetorius and then in the commissioned world premiere of an imaginatively deconstructed version by the English baritone and composer Roderick Williams.
The vibrant and thrilling counterweight to Shaw’s piece came after intermission, when Saint-Agathe led a rousing and superbly dramatic account of Vivaldi’s Gloria. The buoyant rush of the opening movement launched the music with infectious verve, and later sections — by turns contemplative and celebratory — landed unerringly. The four vocal soloists shone (especially soprano Toni D’Amelio, who really should be singing all the things), and the Chorale came to the fore time and again with singing of spirited brilliance. Old and new music have rarely got along so splendidly.
Elsewhere:
Michael Zwiebach, San Francisco Chronicle/SFCV: “Throughout, Shaw’s painterly sense of color evokes Vivaldi’s Four Seasons…The string orchestra is brilliantly used, and some effects — like the ghostly violin harmonics in the third movement — sound weirdly new when played on period instruments. Overall, it’s a beautiful, deeply layered work from a highly personal and deft artist.”
In the Noe
On Sunday afternoon I betook myself to the Noe Valley Ministry on Sanchez St. for what turned out to be a delightful all-Schubert recital headlined by pianist Inon Barnatan. My reasons for attending were multifold. First of all, I’ve always admired Barnatan’s playing for its clarity and expressive force. Secondly, an all-Schubert program boasts its own kind of magic. On the spectrum between it all sounds alike and every piece seems to stand alone, his work occupies a Goldilocks zone; the language, techniques, and expressive concerns remain largely constant, yet each piece has a distinct physiognomy.
In addition to those lures, though, I’ve been coming to the realization that Noe Valley Ministry is a Place To Be for chamber music. The space is intimate and acoustically pleasant, and there’s a welcoming communal vibe to the whole experience. Most importantly, Noe Music — the concert series run in the church by the husband-and-wife team of violinist Owen Dalby and violist Meena Bhasin — boasts a fine blend of tradition and innovation in its programming. The typical performer is far starrier than you’d expect to find in such modest (and low-priced) circumstances, and along with standard afternoon recitals, the schedule also includes after-hours shows and kid-friendly fare on weekend mornings. Last month’s recital by the Poiesis Quartet was a characteristically exciting offering; upcoming shows include appearances by the dynamic flutist/vocalist/composer Nathalie Joachim and the Maine ensemble Palaver Strings.
Barnatan’s recital was entirely in keeping with the general enterprise. It was casual and chummy, but also marked by seriousness of purpose. Barnatan opened with the B-Flat Major Impromptu, D. 935, No. 3, a last-minute substitution for the F-Minor Impromptu, No. 1, from the same posthumously published set. The piece is an extended and mostly light-footed theme and variations, and in each variation Barnatan threw a subtle spotlight on the qualities that made it distinctive. (The vehement minor-key variation landed with special force.) Dalby then joined in for a shapely and broad-beamed account of the Fantasy in C, one of the composer’s bold explorations in stretching formal boundaries, in which the movements all run together in a long and nourishing stream.
The weightiest part of the program, though, was the performance of the B-Flat Major Sonata that occupied the second half. I had one major issue with Barnatan’s performance, which I’ve spun off into its own pugnacious sidebar below. But for the most part he gave full measure to the character of this death-haunted work, the composer’s final piano sonata and one of his last completed compositions. In particular, Schubert’s deft evocation of the imminent end, not only for him but for all of us — an ominous, out-of-nowhere rumble in the very bottom of the piano’s range that appears and disappears like a storm cloud passing in front of the sun — created the necessary combination of terror and grace.
Do I repeat myself?
I wrote above that Barnatan had performed Schubert’s B-Flat Piano Sonata. Perhaps a more accurate — and certainly a more peevish — way to describe the recital is to say that he played an abridged version of the sonata. In the middle of the first movement, Schubert very explicitly instructs the pianist to repeat the first 100+ measures, and helpfully provides nine bespoke measures to ensure that the transition back to the opening makes musical sense. Barnatan, however, decided that that music, and the repeat itself, would be of no interest to his listeners.
I’ve never been able to understand or countenance the fact that so many intelligent, sensitive performers consider themselves wiser than the composer when it comes to a bedrock structural requirement like observing the repeats in a sonata-form movement of a sonata or symphony. The repeat is right there in the score. And yet many performers look at the music and decide that the composer didn’t really understand as well as the performer how the piece was supposed to go, or was just making an optional suggestion (“Play this bit if and only if you feel like it”).
The truth, of course, is that the music makes much more sense if you play what the composer wrote. That’s pretty close to a universal principle, I believe. One of the best things anyone ever said to me in an interview — a dictum I think about constantly — came from the conductor David Robertson, in connection with a recording of something by Messiaen in which the conductor had ignored a supposedly implausible tempo marking. “If you look at a score by a great composer and don’t understand why it’s written the way it is,” Robertson said, “then think until you do.”
The easiest path to success on this particular issue is simple and reliable: Just play the repeats. You won’t go wrong. In the case of the Schubert B-Flat Sonata, though, the argument is a particular no-brainer, because without the repeats, the movement’s ground plan becomes hazy.
An exposition section by Mozart or Beethoven lands emphatically in the dominant key; even if there’s no repeat, you know you’ve arrived somewhere important. Schubert, though, sneaks almost surreptitiously into the dominant, with a pianissimo marking, and then — ideally after a repeat — executes one of his characteristic weird harmonic shifts, from F to C# minor. It’s a fantastic moment, but it’s only fully effective if a listener knows where we are in the piece, and understands that it marks a dramatic turning point. In Barnatan’s version, the whole episode passed by in a fog of structural ambiguity.
A year ago, I promised to become a “relentless crank” on the subject of sonata-movement repeats. As you see, I’m a man of my word.
Cryptic clue of the week
From Out of Left Field #297 by Henri Picciotto and me, sent to subscribers last Thursday:
Columbus, in essence, was about trade (8)
Last week’s clue:
Unruly crowd of men? Gross (3,5)
Solution: MOB SCENE
Unruly crowd: definition
men: M (as on the door of a public restroom)
Gross: OBSCENE
Coming up
• New Century Chamber Orchestra: Music director Daniel Hope and the orchestra are joined by the San Francisco Girls Chorus, led by Valérie Sainte-Agathe, in what looks like a handsomely varied Christmas program. There’s a sampler of carols, of course, along with seasonal offerings by William Billings, Jake Heggie, Nico Muhly, and more. Also on the program are string music by Elgar, Vivaldi, and others. Dec. 11, First Congregational Church, Berkeley. Dec. 12, St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church, Belvedere. Dec. 13, St. Mark’s Lutheran Church. www.ncco.org.
• Tactus SF: One of the major concerns of Renaissance polyphony is the careful flow of dissonance and consonance, and nothing makes the composer’s challenge more daunting — or the result more profoundly expressive — than a high level of chromaticism. At the heart of the Christmas program by this Bay Area chorus is the Sibylline Prophecies, the set of 12 richly chromatic motets by the 16th-century master Orlando di Lasso. Also on the program are seasonal works by Pérotin and Michael Praetorius. Dec. 12, St. Paul’s Episcopal Church. Dec. 14, St. John the Evangelist Episcopal Church. www.tactus-sf.org.
Just here to support your “rant” on the repeat. I spent most of this year working on the first and second movements of that sonata. The little bridge is extraordinary - so agitated, even annoyed. It can’t be missed.