If you have any interest in being moved this Advent season, here are two must-see videos. Thank you so much to the friends that shared these with me!
The first one helps us see, hear, and feel that the kingdom of God really is among us.
The second demonstrates what an extraordinary part of God's creation the human being is. This is border-line miraculous and the feeing you have when you see it will probably show you how it is that human talent serves as a sign of the Divine. The experience is the glorious opposite of seeing a disaster and involuntarily uttering "My God."
Showing posts with label Tchaikowsky. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tchaikowsky. Show all posts
Saturday, December 04, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Tchaikowsky Champion
Last night, I had the great joy of hearing my new colleague and friend, Young-Ah Tak, perform Tchaikowsky's Piano Concerto No. 1 with the Imperial Symphony Orchestra here in Lakeland. The performance was masterful and a work of art that persists vividly in my mind today.
From the beginning, Young-Ah demonstrated that she was in full command of this very difficult concerto, never even beginning to seem the least bit desperate in handling its demands. Instead, she played with poise and intensity, giving the audience an experience of the concerto, not as a vehicle of virtuosity, but as an expressive masterpiece.
Those who know Young-Ah's playing will rightly assume that the octaves were miraculously fast and clean and that the rapid filigree passages were incredibly clear and consistent. But deeper aspects of her talent made the performance particularly moving.
For example, numerous times Young-Ah listened so well to the orchestra's pacing (which may have been different from her own conception of the flow of the piece) and she bent her playing to meld with the energy of the orchestra. Because of this, the huge emotional waves that pass between piano and orchestra had a cohesiveness that I have rarely felt in this work.
At other times, she pushed in a way that was appropriate and exciting, in a way that emphasized the complex and dynamic relationship between orchestra and soloist in a Romantic concerto.
If you are a pianist with an International score of the piece, the rehearsal numbers in the following remarks will assist you in getting a good sense of what struck me so much about the interpretation.
Leading into #10: Young-Ah's phrasing and sound had a melting quality over the course of this passage that took us all into a deeply personal space.
Between 14 and 15, so much tension is built up, and I think it can be very hard to keep the rhythmic intensity going with a large orchestra exchanging chords with the pianist's octaves, but they did maintain the tension, and the way Young-Ah played the arpeggios just before 15 conveyed the essence of something elemental that had been unleashed and was spinning out.
At 20, there was no sense of diminished energy or sound when the piano took over from the orchestra. The seamlessness was amazing and invigorating.
In the cadenza after 31, in the passage with measures of alternating accelerando and a tempo Young-Ah played the a tempo measures in a beautifully contrasting fashion that returned us to that deeply personal space I mentioned before.
The opening theme of the second movement was played with great tenderness and inflection that still haunts me.
Just after 37: Young-Ah thoughtfully played one of these bars as a slight echo of the bar before.
The bar before 38: a wonderfully felt two-note sigh at this transition.
Also, Young-Ah accompanied the orchestral soloists in a lovely relaxed way at the a tempo before 39.
Given the right instrument, acoustic, and performer, 39-46 can be a colorful sonic feast for the listener. The sounds can be so good and varied that there is no need or time to think about them beyond registering that "This sounds great!" That was the case last night.
At 46: Again, poignantly personal melodic playing as well as amazing trills that fit perfectly into the line.
At the risk of sounding silly, I'll say that in the last movement, Young-Ah's energy was that of a giant cat and the orchestra was her ball of string. It was very playful on a monumental scale.
At 63, I couldn't help but smile at the sparkling suppleness of her playing, and I smile even more now when I think about the storm that was to be unleashed at 66. As Young-Ah precisely coordinated the beginning of the cadenza with that final timpani strike, I also thought about how nice it was to have our departmental chair, Dr. Tindall, as the timpanist. He is, as I have said, the most spirited timpanist around - a real musician.
The orchestra played with heart throughout, and Maestro Thielen listened closely and did an admirable job of coordinating all the effort onstage into a meaningful and unified expression.
Following the concert, there was a lovely reception in which warm remarks were made by the general manager, the conductor, and Young-Ah. Young-Ah spoke of making a connection, which is exactly what she did with the orchestra and the audience. It was an inspiring night that refreshed my belief in the tremendous value of the arts to humanity.
From the beginning, Young-Ah demonstrated that she was in full command of this very difficult concerto, never even beginning to seem the least bit desperate in handling its demands. Instead, she played with poise and intensity, giving the audience an experience of the concerto, not as a vehicle of virtuosity, but as an expressive masterpiece.
Those who know Young-Ah's playing will rightly assume that the octaves were miraculously fast and clean and that the rapid filigree passages were incredibly clear and consistent. But deeper aspects of her talent made the performance particularly moving.
For example, numerous times Young-Ah listened so well to the orchestra's pacing (which may have been different from her own conception of the flow of the piece) and she bent her playing to meld with the energy of the orchestra. Because of this, the huge emotional waves that pass between piano and orchestra had a cohesiveness that I have rarely felt in this work.
At other times, she pushed in a way that was appropriate and exciting, in a way that emphasized the complex and dynamic relationship between orchestra and soloist in a Romantic concerto.
If you are a pianist with an International score of the piece, the rehearsal numbers in the following remarks will assist you in getting a good sense of what struck me so much about the interpretation.
Leading into #10: Young-Ah's phrasing and sound had a melting quality over the course of this passage that took us all into a deeply personal space.
Between 14 and 15, so much tension is built up, and I think it can be very hard to keep the rhythmic intensity going with a large orchestra exchanging chords with the pianist's octaves, but they did maintain the tension, and the way Young-Ah played the arpeggios just before 15 conveyed the essence of something elemental that had been unleashed and was spinning out.
At 20, there was no sense of diminished energy or sound when the piano took over from the orchestra. The seamlessness was amazing and invigorating.
In the cadenza after 31, in the passage with measures of alternating accelerando and a tempo Young-Ah played the a tempo measures in a beautifully contrasting fashion that returned us to that deeply personal space I mentioned before.
The opening theme of the second movement was played with great tenderness and inflection that still haunts me.
Just after 37: Young-Ah thoughtfully played one of these bars as a slight echo of the bar before.
The bar before 38: a wonderfully felt two-note sigh at this transition.
Also, Young-Ah accompanied the orchestral soloists in a lovely relaxed way at the a tempo before 39.
Given the right instrument, acoustic, and performer, 39-46 can be a colorful sonic feast for the listener. The sounds can be so good and varied that there is no need or time to think about them beyond registering that "This sounds great!" That was the case last night.
At 46: Again, poignantly personal melodic playing as well as amazing trills that fit perfectly into the line.
At the risk of sounding silly, I'll say that in the last movement, Young-Ah's energy was that of a giant cat and the orchestra was her ball of string. It was very playful on a monumental scale.
At 63, I couldn't help but smile at the sparkling suppleness of her playing, and I smile even more now when I think about the storm that was to be unleashed at 66. As Young-Ah precisely coordinated the beginning of the cadenza with that final timpani strike, I also thought about how nice it was to have our departmental chair, Dr. Tindall, as the timpanist. He is, as I have said, the most spirited timpanist around - a real musician.
The orchestra played with heart throughout, and Maestro Thielen listened closely and did an admirable job of coordinating all the effort onstage into a meaningful and unified expression.
Following the concert, there was a lovely reception in which warm remarks were made by the general manager, the conductor, and Young-Ah. Young-Ah spoke of making a connection, which is exactly what she did with the orchestra and the audience. It was an inspiring night that refreshed my belief in the tremendous value of the arts to humanity.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Nutcracker
Yesterday we went to the Richmond Ballet Nutcracker performance, which is always great and great fun. The dancing, costumes, and sets are all beautiful, and there are dancers of all ages and all species (giant rats and a bear).
The Nutcracker provides a fine yearly reminder of the high quality of composer that Tchaikowsky was. Upon hearing his score this time, I was struck by the following.
Tchaikowsky seems like a much better-mannered composer than Wagner or Mahler (whose music I love). Tchaikowsky's music seems cooperative and cultured. Its themes never overstay their welcome, and it can charm us with its Mozartean balance. It's hard to beat that sort if charm. What's more, it is deeply moving without ever blurting out something inappropriate.
While Tchaikowsky's music is sometimes thought of as very emotional, I found it moving more often in a structural way. Its long lines move me like the elegantly engineered expanse of a great bridge.
The orchestra slipped up on me at one moment while I was focused on the dancing. The musical climax at that point, driven by the trombones, gave me the same sort of thrill that orchestral music gave me most of the time when I first started going to lots of live performances. It may be that so much thinking about music, particularly as I listen to it, keeps me from having those experiences as often now. But watching a staged production like a ballet or an opera can get my mind on something else, and the music can bypass my thinking. I recommend the experience for those musicians reading who find themselves in a similar place.
Perhaps the climax of the entire score is the tune that amounts to a descending scale during the grand pas de deux. A descending scale is essentially an ending, and constructing a piece out of endings is one of Rachmaninoff's strategies as in the famous C Sharp Minor Prelude. Maybe he got it from Tchaikowsy. Also, I heard little bits of orchestration throughout the ballet that reminded me a bit of Wagner. I've never looked into any Wagner/Tchaikowsky link. And of course, the descending scale pattern is a prominent leitmotiv in the Ring, representing Wotan's staff and treaties.
The Nutcracker provides a fine yearly reminder of the high quality of composer that Tchaikowsky was. Upon hearing his score this time, I was struck by the following.
Tchaikowsky seems like a much better-mannered composer than Wagner or Mahler (whose music I love). Tchaikowsky's music seems cooperative and cultured. Its themes never overstay their welcome, and it can charm us with its Mozartean balance. It's hard to beat that sort if charm. What's more, it is deeply moving without ever blurting out something inappropriate.
While Tchaikowsky's music is sometimes thought of as very emotional, I found it moving more often in a structural way. Its long lines move me like the elegantly engineered expanse of a great bridge.
The orchestra slipped up on me at one moment while I was focused on the dancing. The musical climax at that point, driven by the trombones, gave me the same sort of thrill that orchestral music gave me most of the time when I first started going to lots of live performances. It may be that so much thinking about music, particularly as I listen to it, keeps me from having those experiences as often now. But watching a staged production like a ballet or an opera can get my mind on something else, and the music can bypass my thinking. I recommend the experience for those musicians reading who find themselves in a similar place.
Perhaps the climax of the entire score is the tune that amounts to a descending scale during the grand pas de deux. A descending scale is essentially an ending, and constructing a piece out of endings is one of Rachmaninoff's strategies as in the famous C Sharp Minor Prelude. Maybe he got it from Tchaikowsy. Also, I heard little bits of orchestration throughout the ballet that reminded me a bit of Wagner. I've never looked into any Wagner/Tchaikowsky link. And of course, the descending scale pattern is a prominent leitmotiv in the Ring, representing Wotan's staff and treaties.
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