Over four days last weekend, I got to soak up more dulcet double-reed pleasure than any fan of that particular family of instruments could hope for. Two separate recitals showcased the common orchestral double reeds: oboe, English horn, and bassoon – and both events featured the Charleston Symphony’s main players.
Friday evening’s recital at First Baptist Church showcased the stunning bassoon playing of CSO Principal Christopher B. Sales. His accomplished collaborator at the piano was Ghadi Shayban: the CSO’s keyboardist and one of Chucktown’s most brilliant young pianists.
In over fifty years of regular concertgoing, I’d never been to a solo bassoon recital: rare beasts, as concerts go. While I’ve long been a rabid oboe fan, I suppose I’d never really taken the bassoon seriously – or fully appreciated its potential as a solo instrument. That is, until last Spoleto, when bassoon-meister Peter Kolkay joined Charles Wadsworth’s exalted chamber series team. Wow. All of a sudden it hit me: this “buzzing, burping bedpost” (as Chris has called it) can really talk – and sing. So much for the instrument’s unfair stereotype as the “buffoon” of the orchestra.
Chris – new to the CSO this season – took it from there. He had already tantalized me with a couple of choice orchestral solos – and in last fall’s benefit concert, where he adroitly delivered part of the Mozart concerto. But here was my chance to hear an entire program of works for just bassoon and piano. And I wasn’t disappointed. Proof positive that you can still teach an old critic new tricks.
First we heard Strange Interludes No. 3, by James Lassen: a fascinating and varied modern piece with regular piano interludes separating exotic, engaging passages that led up to a final, big bluesy riff. Then we were treated to the evening’s only non-contemporary number: Carl Maria von Weber’s Hungarian Rondo. It turned out to be a feast of bassoon virtuosity, with engaging tunes and a wide range of effects.
Next up was the devastating music of William Winstead, one of Sales’ teachers. We heard two of his Four Impromptus: ‘On Loneliness’ and ‘On Doubt’ – studies on the buildup and release of musical tension, as Sales described them in his introductory remarks. They turned out to be studies on the human psyche’s darker side, too – alternating slow, tragic meandering with tense mutterings. Sales made his instrument muse morosely, complain bitterly, and weep here — supported by some atmospheric playing from Shayban (including eerie, plucked-string effects in the second piece). Great therapy.
The recital ended with two movements from the Sonata for Bassoon and Piano, by David Maslanka (who writes only for woodwinds). Based on Bach chorales, the sonata’s slow second movement had kind of a “churchy” sound to it, full of sweet and limpid bassoon “singing” over a ruminative and flowing piano part. The final movement was bright, happy and headlong – with some perfectly synchronized high-speed playing from both artists.
The only downer was the news (out just that night) that Sales has just accepted a new position with Jacksonville’s orchestra – a bigger (and healthier) band. Who can blame him for moving on, given the CSO’s current dire circumstances? But he’s made a difference during his short stay in Charleston – like opening my ears to the full expressive possibilities of his instrument. Chris, we’ll miss you (Scroll down to “From the Bassoonist’s Chair” below: an eloquent guest-blog from him a few weeks back).
Fast-forward four days to Monday – and a lovable concert at the College’s Simons Center Recital Hall from the “Reeds of Charleston”: CSO oboists Mark Gainer (Principal since 1978), Christine Worsham and Nick Masterson on English horn. I’ve been melting to Mark’s wonderfully expressive playing for going on 20 seasons now – and Christine plays often at my church, besides singing with me in the choir (on top of her sweet-sounding oboe, she also owns a lovely, solo-quality soprano voice). I don’t know Nick as well as I’d like – though I’ve often borne witness to his excellent playing with the CSO.
They got started with world-premiere performances of a pair of excellent new works written for this ensemble by distinguished composers that Charleston can claim as their own. I’ve been enjoying their music for years.
Fernando Rivas teaches at Porter-Gaud, writes for us occasionally at the City Paper, and has a very impressive track record as a composer. He contributed One Last Habañera (for Piffe) – written in memory of a once-prominent Cuban bandleader. I really liked its profusion of catchy, sophisticated themes, ranging from languorous to frantic … and its artfully stylized, charmingly syncopated Habañera section. I wish Fernando had been there to hear how beautifully it was played.
Dr. Trevor Weston creates music and passes on his craft to a gaggle of gifted disciples at the College of Charleston. I’m mainly familiar with his glowing, soulful choral music – so I was delighted to hear another example of his instrumental output.
Ditty RAM (based on the composer’s pre-performance comments) recalls the “Aulos” – an ancient Greek double-reed instrument that often accompanied “Dithyrambs,” or often drunken Dionysian revels (Dionysus was the party animal among Greek gods) – as well as in battle. Both scenarios were reflected in the music. The rather martial opening ‘flourishes’ movement employed ancient tonalities, while speculating on what Greek battle fanfares might’ve sounded like over two millennia ago.
The central ‘sinews’ section sounded “stringy,” with skeins of rising and falling notes grabbing and letting go of each other … besides conveying a disoriented, vaguely tipsy sensation. The finale – ‘Aulos Blues’ – seemed an imaginary evening of blues at some ancient Athenian nightspot. Imaginary period riffs resounded (both forward AND backward), amid rhythmic foot-stomps and other evidence of unfettered celebration. Very evocative, very cool.
The evening ended with Ludwig van Beethoven’s Op. 87 Trio in C Major, originally written for tonight’s instruments (though it’s also known in his later transcription for two violins and viola). While it’s an early work, it bears a fairly high Opus number because Beethoven withheld it from publication until later in his career, at a time when he needed money.
The opening Allegro unfolded as a sweet-spirited, nonchalant number that recalled the grace and flow of Mozart – but Beethoven’s more forthright, muscular style was noticeable. The following Adagio offered a lovely, singing melody. The speedy Minuet seemed more of a scherzo than the usual courtly dance – except in the more subdued central section. The energetic final Presto scampered happily, with touches of Haydn-esqe wit and humor. Our artists performed throughout with sweet tone, precision and interpretive unity. Their work in the manic finale was especially acrobatic.
The Reeds of Charleston is just one of many excellent chamber ensembles made up of Charleston Symphony players. Both of these recitals stand as potent evidence as to the many ways in which our wonderful CSO musicians enrich our lives here in the Holy City.
Early Music Rocks at the College
Two recent events at the College of Charleston’s Simons Center Recital Hall offered delightful reminders that ancient music is alive and well in Chucktown.
You’d think that a solid hour spent listening mostly to an assortment of simple frame drums would try most concertgoers’ patience. But that’s hardly the case when percussionist extraordinaire Danny Mallon is at work. He appeared Monday before last, in his patented “Drums through the Ages” program – which I’ve heard several times in years past, both at the College and during Piccolo Spoleto. While the essentials of these lecture/performance programs have remained the same all along, each new edition is a bit different.
As he told us from the stage, many global cultures have their own brands of frame drum: essentially a short wooden cylinder, wider than long, open at one end, with some sort of skin or membrane stretched over the other. They vary widely in size, design and sonic characteristics. The ones we heard include the North African Tar, the Arabic tambourine (Riq), the larger Daff, and the Irish Bodhran.
Until you hear him for yourself, you simply can’t imagine the veritable symphony of sounds that Mallon gets out of these seemingly primitive percussion instruments. No mere repetitive thumping here. The kinds of sound vary tremendously, according to where the drum is struck: the center or the edges (even the rim). The relative strength of each stroke, of course, alters the volume. And entirely different sonorities are produced according to which part of the hand strikes the drum: fingernails, fingertips, or the flats of the fingers or hand. He can produce “swishing” effects, and even a sort of “cooing” sound by drawing a moistened fingerpad across the drum’s membrane. Add intricate rhythms and time signatures to all this sonic variety, and the solo frame drum suddenly becomes a fascinating and complex instrument.
To add a melodic dimension to his show (you can’t play tunes on most drums), Mallon shared with us another of his many esoteric skills: Mongolian throat-singing. It’s really wild — and weird! While vocalizing a single pitch, Mallon – by altering the positions of his mouth, palate and tongue – further produces a sequence of higher overtones that he can manipulate into a scale, intervals (mostly thirds) or even a real tune, drifting eerily above the underlying foundation pitch. Check out the above artist link – where you can hear him at it! Another interesting vocal effect was his occasional use of rhythmic chanting as he played.
And he went well beyond just the frame drum in his final piece, working the main noisemakers (drums, shakers and “devil-catchers”) with his hands while tapping a woodblock with a drumstick attached to one foot and shaking a maracas-type rattle with the other. Presto, a one-man percussion band, with some intermittent throat-singing and chanting spicing things up. How the man can do so many things at once – and make quality music while he’s at it – is beyond me!
Danny also appeared the following Monday evening, but this time as part of Dr. Steve Rosenberg’s crack Charleston Pro Musica: the College’s terrific mixed (and variable) ensemble of ancient instrumentalists (mostly recorders and baroque guitars here). They were joined by several modern instruments (violins, cello), though they played in a thoroughly period style. Joining them was Dr. Robert Taylor’s esteemed Madrigal Singers: the cream of his nationally-recognized Concert Choir.
The music at hand was – according to Rosenberg – probably the first complete public performance anywhere in modern times of the “Balletti” – a smash-hit (in its day), fifteen-piece cycle of madrigals by the late-renaissance Italian composer Giovanni Giacomo Gastoldi that was conceived as a dance-sequence. Individual numbers and sets from the cycle have been steadily performed (and recorded) in the past half-century, but apparently never as a complete work.
These pieces range from sad and searching to bright and bouncy – and I’ve never heard so many “fa-la-la’s” (a stock madrigal feature) in a single concert before! Common period subject matter prevailed in the texts … like the giddy ecstasy (or dire agony) of love, idyllic pastoral themes (LOTS of pretty shepherdesses!) or the glory of military combat.
As Rosenberg pointed out, the instrumental accompaniments are largely educated guesswork, since the instrumental parts were never published. Still, both the arrangements and the perky players sounded “right” for the music. Over the years, I’ve learned to trust Steve’s instincts and experience where early music is concerned.
And the singers sounded simply glorious: precise, spirited, resonant and stylistically true. The assorted soloists and sub-ensembles were especially brilliant: what a wonderful bunch of voices Taylor has brought together! The only glitch was an onstage readjustment when a key singer was sidelined by sudden illness. Dr. Taylor – who performed here with his marvelous minions – ended up doing some tricky sight-reading in the final numbers to compensate.
While not every period listener might care to hear a full hour of non-stop Italian madrigals (or all those fa-la-las), I found the evening to be an engrossing and most enjoyable musical experience. I love it when different elements within the Music department (and the awesome musicians who run them) get together to make such unique and memorable music as this.
I believe you’ll get to hear this music (and definitely the musicians) again during Spoleto (rather, Piccolo Spoleto). And to think, I got to hear it first!
Whilst on the subject of both impending festivals, don’t be surprised if my Eargasms posts are few and far between (or belated, like this one) in the coming weeks. I’m already hard at work interviewing Spoleto’s leading musical personalities – and laying out the bewildering array of buzz-ometers and detailed preview articles that I’ll be cranking out between now and festival time. And that’s on top of the nine CDs I’m reviewing right now (under tight deadlines) for my national gig, American Record Guide.
But never fear – I’ll be back with a pre-Spoleto vengeance by mid-May. Just you wait. No rest for the weary. But, GAWD, I love it!