Monday, 25 February 2019

Review: SUPERB CONCERT FROM THE AUSTRALIAN STRING QUARTET

Photo supplied by ASQ
by Tony Magee

I once heard a talented modern composer express dismay that new music was continually overlooked by programmers in favour of “dusty old Haydn string quartets”.

If there ever was any, the dust was well and truely blown away by the Australian String Quartet’s exhilarating and magnificent performance of Haydn’s String Quartet Op. 33, No 3. Subtitled The Bird, it imitates bird-like singing from the grace-note ornamentation throughout, the illusion perfectly captured by first violin and leader, Dale Barltrop, playing a 1784 Guadagnini from Turin.

Haydn composed the six Op. 33 string quartets in the summer and autumn of 1781 in Vienna, dedicating them to the Grand Duke Paul of Russia. They were premiered on Christmas Day 1781, at the Viennese apartment of the Duke’s wife, the Grand Duchess Maria Feodorovna, which when you think about it, is no slouch as a Christmas gift.

The ASQ delivers ensemble playing of the very highest calibre. Luxuriating in every note they play, the four musicians communicate with knowing glances, smiles, and a myriad of other secretive body language skills - almost telepathic - to form a seamless, thriving musical entity.

Incredible dynamics and phrasing with a lush and sonorous texture, all combined to make this opening piece a joyous celebration of music and human achievement, rich in vitality, excitement and energy.

Swiss-Dutch composer and violinist Helena Winkelman’s string quartet was completed in 2016 and ironically, is inspired by and a paraphrase of the preceding Bird quartet, by “dusty old Haydn”. The ASQ played the work partly as a study in sound effects and varied auditory textures, which whilst frequently disharmonious, was at the very least fascinating to hear and watch. It presents an amazing challenge for the players and is clearly great fun to play. Almost a marathon of intense physical exercise. 

Revealing extraordinary clarity of sound and at times volume, the piece swept us through fire and fury, occasional delicacy and in the final two movements, an hilarious musical recreation of flea-ridden 18th century wigs, closing with a jazz realisation subtitled Haydn On The Rocks.

Guest artist, Timo-Veikko Valve. Photo: Jack Saltmiras


Principle cello from the Australian Chamber Orchestra, Timo-Veikko Valve, was special guest for the concert, replacing Sharon Grigoryan who is on parental leave. Valve introduced the final work for the program, from his Finnish homeland, Sibelius’ Voces Intimäe Op. 56. It is a five movement piece composed in 1909 and the only major work for string quartet of his mature years. 

Latin for “Intimate Voices” or “Inner Voices”, the piece has a conversational quality. Sibelius summarised his thoughts on the work thus: “It turned out as something wonderful - the kind of thing that brings a smile to your lips at the hour of death. I will say no more.”

The ASQ played this work with deep passion and feeling. There is much to explore and derive from the intensity of the writing. The “inner voices” were stated very gently in the third Adagio movement and for those who felt inclined, the opportunity was there to explore ones own inner voices, feelings and reflections. It was a peaceful and beautiful moment.

During the fourth Allegretto movement, a rippling, cascading melody was introduced through the viola, gloriously performed by Stephen King on his 1783 Guadagnini, also from Turin. In turn this was doubled with the second violin, played beautifully by Francesca Hiew, who also plays a Guadagnini, but made in Piacenza in 1748. And finally, the theme was repeated again for cello solo by Valve, who plays an Amati from 1616.

Part of the success of the ASQ is the exquisite, rich sound and tonal beauty of the magnificent historic instruments they play. Priceless in value, they only come to life of course, with the skills of these four outstanding musicians.

The final Allegro movement was reminiscent of a Gypsy dance and served as an exhilarating conclusion to this superb concert.

First published in City News Digital Edition, February 25 2019

Friday, 22 February 2019

Review: GRAINGER STEALS CHOPIN'S SHOW

by Tony Magee

Photo: Dianne Anderson
Pianist Penelope Thwaites plays her Chopin with mature authority, grace and style, but at this excellent concert at the Polish Embassy in Canberra, celebrating the 209th anniversary of the birth of Chopin, it was her performance of and the music of Percy Grainger which stole the show.

Thwaites is one of the world’s leading authorities on the life and music of Percy Grainger and is the editor of The New Percy Grainger Companion.

Grainger was a formidable pianist of titanic technique and his piano music was written for him to play. Others who follow have a serious task at hand.

Thwaites delivered Grainger’s music with a command and assurity that is as close to channelling as one could possibly imagine. Her uncanny ability to capture the majesty, strength, power and delicacy of his music was captivating.

During “Irish Tune from County Derry” the emotion wrenched at the heart and people everywhere misted up. From my seat in the second row, I most definitely caught a glimpse of tears from the pianist. The chords were rich and lush, the melody sang like a bird and the inner voices in the opening verse shone through superbly.

The Power of Love, part of a Danish folk music suite by Grainger and arranged for piano by Thwaites was almost a Lisztian fantasy, recalling his Swiss Years of Pilgrimage.

The concert had a multifaceted purpose. Chopin’s birthday aside, it was also a celebration of the folk music idiom and the influence this had on some of Chopin’s output, as well as Bach, Grainger and Bartok. In addition is was a concert dedicated to Chopin music scholar Professor Miehyslaw Tomaszewski who passed earlier this year on 14th January aged 97. Many of his thoughts and reflections on Chopin’s music were included in the program notes.

Thwaites herself provided excellent commentary on all the pieces and the evening actually became a sparkling lecture-recital.

Beginning with two contrasting works - Chopin’s mournful Prelude in E minor Op.28 No.1 and J.S. Bach’s joyous Chorale Prelude, Thwaite’s continued with Bach’s Partitia in B flat major, playing the melody with bell-like clarity.

A bracket of five Chopin mazurkas demonstrated exquisitely executed trills, authoritive and varied dynamics and a rich sonority of sound.

The final bracket for the evening, also Chopin, brought forward three of his most famous waltz’s finishing with a majestic performance of the Grande Waltz Brillante in E flat major, Op. 18.

The folk music theme was delightfully enhanced by the presence of several adults and children in spectacular Polish national dress from different regions of the country.

In a performance that spoke to and involved the audience in a musical, emotional and intellectual capacity of great magnitude, this Judy Dench of the piano finished with her own delightful musical setting of Shakespeare’s Under the Greenwood Tree, reflecting influences from Ralph Vaughan Williams and John Ireland.

Also published in City News Digital Edition and Canberra Critics Circle Blog


Tuesday, 12 February 2019

Obituary: Roderick MacFarquhar, Eminent China Scholar, Dies at 88

by Jane Perlez

Feb. 12, 2019

Roderick MacFarquhar in 2012.
Photo: Nora Tam / South China Morning Post,
via Getty images
BEIJING — Roderick MacFarquhar, a consummate scholar of Communist China whose writing on Mao’s power politics influenced how people around the world understood China, died on Sunday in Cambridge, Mass., where he had long taught at Harvard University. He was 88.

His son, Rory, said the cause was heart failure.

Professor MacFarquhar specialized in the origins of the Cultural Revolution, the decade of turmoil that terrorized China beginning in 1966. His three-volume work, “The Origins of the Cultural Revolution,” came to be considered a classic.

The research for those books, which were based on dense official texts, public speeches and Mao’s own words, opened a world hidden to the West and illuminated an era of China’s past that still seems almost unfathomable.

At Harvard, Professor MacFarquhar taught history and political science, and was known there for his wit and informality. In one class he asked his teaching assistants to pose as Red Guards, Mao’s paramilitary youth, and act out boisterous self-criticism sessions. He then coaxed the class to shout over and over, “Mao Zedong, Wan Sui!” — “10,000 years for Mao!” — so that everyone felt the fervor of the movement that shook China. The “CultRev” class packed the biggest lecture hall on campus.

“Rod was a thinker — he studied big questions, and big ideas,” said Minxin Pei, a historian on China and one of his early students. “He was very interested in political purges, and the Cultural Revolution was one of the biggest political purges ever.”

Unlike many historians who dwelled on the violence of the Red Guards after the outbreak of the Cultural Revolution, Professor MacFarquhar concentrated on the elite factional fighting that started in the 1950s.

He had worked as a journalist and served as a member of Parliament in Britain for five years in the 1970s, jobs that instructed him in the workings of politics.

By concentrating on Mao’s brutal political chess-playing, Mr. Pei said, Professor MacFarquhar helped illustrate the leader’s state of mind and laid bare the calamity of the Cultural Revolution, which nearly ruined the country.

Though his work put China under hard scrutiny, and though he made clear that he thought some kind of democracy was best for the country, Professor MacFarquhar was not viewed as aiming to undermine the Communist Party.

He was able to keep contact with his peers in China, including academics and editors of the official government newspaper, People’s Daily, when they visited the United States and streamed into his Harvard office, said Michael A. Szonyi, director of the Fairbank Center for Chinese Studies at Harvard, with which Professor MacFarquhar was long affiliated.

One Chinese professor, Tang Shaojie of Tsinghua University, who attended Professor MacFarquhar’s lectures at Harvard in 2003, called him a “giant” in the study of Chinese history and noted that the study of the Cultural Revolution for many years had occurred outside China.

“And where was it studied? In the United States,” he said in a statement on Tuesday. “Specifically at Harvard University. And more specifically by Professor MacFarquhar.”

Professor MacFarquhar was never barred from visiting China, though on one occasion he surprised his hosts at the Central Party School of the Communist Party by devoting his talk to sensitive topics.

“Today I am going to talk about two dates, May 4 and June 4,” he told the audience, who froze in silence, according to Mr. Pei. On May 4, 1919, students took to the streets of Beijing to denounce the government as unpatriotic. On June 4, 1989, troops who had shot their way into downtown Beijing broke up student protests at Tiananmen Square, leaving hundreds dead and thousands injured. After the lecture, his hosts calmly took Professor MacFarquhar to dinner, though they did not discuss the lecture, Mr. Pei said.

Professor MacFarquhar was director of the Fairbank Center from 1986 to 1992, and again from 2005 to 2006. Under his watch, the center attracted a diverse set of people curious about China — businessmen, diplomats, journalists — who sought debate as well as scholarship as an avenue to understanding a country that was increasingly important to the United States.

After the 1989 crackdown, he accepted Wang Dan, the student who had led the protests on Tiananmen Square, to study at the Fairbank Center.

He was “my doctoral tutor, my closest teacher, the West’s authoritative voice on the study of China’s Cultural Revolution,” Professor Wang said on Monday.

The Chinese government allowed the first two volumes of Professor MacFarquhar’s Cultural Revolution trilogy, covering 1956-1957 and 1958-60, to be translated into Chinese for publication in China in the 1980s.

By the time the last volume, covering 1961-66, came out in English in the late 1990s, the political atmosphere had soured in the aftermath of the Tiananmen protests, and the book never went to press in China.

Roderick Lemonde MacFarquhar was born on Dec. 2, 1930, in Lahore, then a major city in British-ruled India, the son of Sir Alexander and Berenice (Whitburn) MacFarquhar. His father was a member of the British Indian Civil Service.

Roderick made a first, fleeting trip to China at age 7 — visiting a snow-clad Great Wall — when he accompanied his parents on a round-the-world ship voyage. He went to a Scottish boarding school and graduated with a degree in philosophy, politics and economics from Keble College, Oxford University, in 1953.

Wanting to be a journalist, he briefly worked at The Telegraph of London. But to do well in journalism he believed he needed a specialty.

From his childhood, he knew a lot about India, and that seemed an obvious choice. However, “I felt too many people knew about it,” he said in an interview in 2017 posted by the University of Cambridge in England on its website.

The Communist revolution had recently occurred in China. “People would need to know about that,” he said, “so I would learn about China.”

He never, he said, “had a misty feeling about Ming vases or anything like that.”

Professor MacFarquhar became affiliated with the Fairbank Center after its founder, Professor John K. Fairbank, had in 1955 started taking a handful of students to study Chinese language, history and politics.

After receiving his master’s degree in East Asian studies that year, Professor MacFarquhar went on to write his first book, on Mao’s Hundred Flowers Campaign of the mid-1950s, which had given intellectuals a brief period of greater freedom.

In 1960 he founded The China Quarterly, an academic journal on Chinese politics and economics published by the University of Cambridge. He briefly merged his two passions, politics and China, with a trip to China in 1972 as part of the entourage of the British foreign secretary, Alec Douglas-Home.

He was elected to Parliament as a Labour candidate in 1974 but was defeated in Margaret Thatcher’s conservative tide of 1979. He joined the Harvard faculty about five years later.

He died in a Cambridge hospital. In addition to his son, Rory, who is director of global economic policy at Google, Professor MacFarquhar is survived by his wife, Dalena Wright; a daughter, Larissa MacFarquhar, a writer for The New Yorker; and two granddaughters. His first wife, Emily Jane (Cohen) MacFarquhar, a journalist, died in 2001.

Professor MacFarquhar had in the last several years turned to writing a book on India. But he was always asked about China and its future. One thing seemed certain, he said: The Communist Party will not last forever.

“I do foresee the Communist Party fading,” he said in the 2017 interview. “How it will happen I’ve not got the slightest idea. The idea that the party knows best, and only the party can rule, I think it will disappear. Whether it will disappear by some kind of new revolution or just gradually fade away, I don’t know.”

Chris Buckley contributed reporting; Luz Ding contributed research

[Ed.] Roderick was the nephew of British jazz and cabaret singer Gery Scott, whom I worked with for many years from 1987 to 2005 (her passing). There are several articles about Gery on this forum. I met Roderick when he visited Canberra in November 2005. He was charming and great fun. He was also the father of The New Yorker journalist Larissa MacFarquhar. I met Larissa in May 2003 when she also visited Canberra to write a feature article on her “Great Aunt Diana” (Gery Scott) for The New Yorker, entitled The Jazz Singer. She also reported on Gery’s stunning performance at the 2003 Sydney Cabaret Convention, which included myself on piano, Scott Dodd on bass and Nick McBride on drums. Dr David Schwartz’s review of that concert is also on this forum, here. - Tony Magee


Obituary originally published in The New York Times, Feb 12, 2019.




Sunday, 10 February 2019

Radu Lupu at Royal Festival Hall



VENERATED by fellow pianists, the Romanian Radu Lupu has acquired mythical status. Now in his 70s, he no longer records, shuns interviews and rarely performs in public. 

The Royal Festival Hall was sold out for his date with the Philharmonia Orchestra to play Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No 4, conducted by Paavo Järvi, in a concert that included a soul-baring, virile performance of Rachmaninov’s Symphony No 2.

Lupu’s upright chair rather than piano stool, and his lack of showy gesture, are hallmarks. He takes his seat, body relaxed, head tilted back a little, as if submitting to a barber. Instead he’s surrendering, as far as humanly possible, every vestige of self to become a vessel for the music. 

The solo opening of the concerto, hushed, poetic, sinewy, heralded an account of daring intimacy, dense with risk. Lupu allows nerve-shattering pauses. This has no connection with the missed notes or insecure passagework or, in one instance, a time lapse between soloist and orchestra. 

He has always played with an improvisatory quality, as if taking aural dictation from the ether. As a younger man, flowing black hair and beard, he seemed like someone from a Russian novel. Now he’s the hermit, frail beyond his years, down from the mountain bearing wisdom. 

Järvi, upright, like a bandmaster, yet responsive to line and phrase, was a sympathetic accompanist, the orchestra lithe, supple, unfazed by this familiar music’s new adventures.

First published in The Guardian, Australian Edition, February 10, 2019