Now that the
exercise season is winding down, and my departure from Berlin is imminent, I
felt it was time to top up my concert quotient for the year: somehow, we don’t
seem to have taken in very many musical evenings since those fine evenings with the Quatuor Ebène and
Mdlle Trommenschlager. Radialsystem seems to be devoting itself to weird
programmes, the Spiegelsaal is closed … but our much-loved Piano Salon
Christophori is open, and even giving vocal concerts, so we booked in for three
evenings, this week. Three evenings very different, as it turned out, from one another, in interest, quality and performance.
The first was a
concert by a Uzbekistani pianist whose name I forget. And, a week later, I'm afraid I’ve sort of forgotten the whole competent but rather unmagical concert. We chose it
because the programme included Scriabin, some Schumann, but mainly the Schubert
impromptus, which had been part of our lives for a week or three. One evening,
I had tried to describe to Paul the last stages of my own pianistic career, and
the piece of Chopin with which I had won my last-ever prize. He didn’t know it!
Eventually, I managed to one-finger it out on the piano and a magic website
identified it: Schubert’s A flat impromptu. So we had to go and hear it live!
So, thank you for that, sir. And for an introduction to the wee Scriabin piece.
We were excited
about the second one. The Copland songs, which Paul knows intimately and adores
unconditionally, and the whole of the Charlotte Bray ‘Yellow Leaves’, of which
Lea Trommenschlager had given us an interesting taste. It looked like a long
programme, so I was a bit cross when it didn’t start till nearly 9pm. I was
soon very, very much crosser. And Paul was ropable. Stiff with fury.
Copland was
crucified. The pianist seemed to be sight-reading, the soprano was consequently
terrified into unsure pitch, short breathing and just plain errors. Professionals
(who charge 25 euros a ticket) just don’t present a work in such a state.
Culpably under-learned and under-rehearsed. Even amateurs do better. Herewith a
couple of students in the same work:
I don’t know if
‘Yellow Leaves’ was better. The composer hugged everyone, so I assume that most of
her notes were played and sung. But it, too, was wracked with nerves and
unsteadiness. And then, finally, we got to hear the young singer in her comfort
zone: three beautiful songs of Faure, beautifully sung. If you are going to
give what was, clearly, an ad hoc concert, stick to works you know. Even if the
concert is sponsored by a composer’s agent. And don’t charge 25e a ticket. Your
reputation will suffer, and so will that of everyone else concerned.
And if you don't know your music, don't insult us by bringing on the score ... even of 'Der Nussbaum'!
And if you don't know your music, don't insult us by bringing on the score ... even of 'Der Nussbaum'!
I cancelled the
next night’s tickets. The Strauss etc songs promised had been sicked-off, and
replaced by Alban Berg etc by a different singer. But just a minute! That
singer was Stella Doufexis, whom we’d tried to see last year. Accompanied by
Daniel Heide. We un-cancelled. And thank goodness we did. It was, by a street,
the best concert of the three.
The lady is a stylish, intelligent, consummate Lieder singer, with an attractive mezzo voice. You knew you were going to be all right when she walked on. Svelte, unfussy dark dress, everything from great hair, to well-planned make-up, to a pair of can't-resist-em dangly earrings that brought your gaze to her face. The face where the stories of the songs were to be enacted. As they were.
The Berg was early
Berg, so turned out to be neat and pleasant. The Debussy was deliciously sung,
in such crystalline French that I assumed the lady was native French, the
Schumann cycle was a total pleasure. And all sung with effortless accuracy (and
just an occasional opening up of full, rich, mezzo forces) and accompanied by a
real five-star accompanist …
Piano Salon, you
are redeemed. I consider I have paid (happily) 50e for the Doufexis-Heide
concert, and the other one was free. That makes me content. And we even bought
the CD, and instead of going straight home (my invariable rule), stopped for a
midnightish pernod on the Ufer.
You win some and
you lose some!
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