And off we go GAIDA 2016

So after a long wait of eager anticipation GAIDA 2016 has begun. As mentioned in my last post, GAIDA 2016 joined me in celebrating their 26th birthday and what an occasion it was too. The Filharmonie hall was packed full of enthusiastic and curious people, eager to partake in the nights events. After the usual nattering of old colleagues catching each other and young students bumping into friends, the audience wandered into the hall with a slight sense of befuddlement and confusion. Everyone was curious and eager to find out why they had to navigate around music stands to get to their seats for the beginning of the night's event. 

After the usual warm introduction and thanks, the concert started with Gyorgy Kurtag's Double Concerto for piano, cello, and two chamber ensembles. The four movement concerto was curious, strong, but profoundly modest (like all things by Kurtag). Each movement had a clear defining sense of character, full of wonderful nuances which were elegantly crafted throughout the ensemble. You could feel you were in for a treat when the soloists Francesco Dillon and Emanuele Torquati so wonderfully performed their microscopic gestures which danced so subtly around each other. The chamber groups were spread throughout the hall and made for some fantastic outerbody experiences. Admittedly these would have been more striking in a bigger hall to really exploit depth, but that being said the effect was not really tarnished too much; it just lacked the same expansiveness of the work, but didn't detract from it. I always found the moments the recorders appeared particularly alien and wonderful, undefined but clear sounds just gorgeous stuff. Throughout all of this the orchestra showed a surprising amount of clout, their were almost no blemishes in the performance, Jonathan Berman really knew how to get the most out of this fine orchestra who tend to be a bit shy when it comes to twentieth century and twenty-first century repertoire. Francesco Dillon and Emanuele Torquati were just faultless, both in their own parts, but the way they always seemed to naturally interact with each other and just blend together quite beautifully. The final chords of the concerto were exquisite, the hall was frozen, and I was in a very happy place; it was only when we released the tension and clapped that everyone came back to earth. 

After a short break, to furiously and speedily return chairs to their natural state, the concert resumed with a work by Vykintas Baltakas. His commentum for cello and orchestra is a reworking of his piece by the same name for cello and piano. I stress the word reworking, as to suggest it is an arrangement of the earlier work would be a dire misjudgment. The piece starts with the same cheeky wit, with ideas appearing like flashes. As the piece developed, I really gained a sensation that the orchestral treatment was very similar to his Saxordionphonics (a very fine work for saxophone, accordion, and chamber orchestra), within it the flourishes and stabs are never violent. Maybe I am using the wrong word, poking and nudging would be a more suitable word to describe it. The ideas give you a playful nudge in the hopes you'd notice their magnificence, but the chances are if you weren't thinking you missed it. So it cheekily nudges you again. The other way of looking at it, is like being at a dinner party and somebody nudges you and follows with the line 'did I tell you about the time...' and rivet you with a charming anecdote. Francesco Dillon almost seemed built for this piece, his control and charm with it is far more apparent and natural. The pairing of Kurtag and Baltakas was also a very fine choice indeed, as they both complement each superbly. Their music may not say a lot in a given time, but you can be damn sure everyone utterance is vital, insightful, and above all else witty.

  

It is very rare in a concert to feel the audience become awed by a musician merely showing up with their instrument. With the appearance of Liudas Mockunas and his bass saxophone, you could feel everyone go 'oooooo'. The instrument is glorious and fascinating, and like the rest of the saxophone family, a really suffering when it comes to good concerto or solo works (I think this issue stems from many poorer composers forgetting that the saxophone can do other things than jazz). So with this in mind I was curious to see how Vytautas Germanavicius would tackle such a conundrum. His work Underwater Geometry had me intrigued for a long time, as before this concert the only other works of his I was familiar with were small chamber groups of maybe four at most. Ultimately I think he is more suited to more austere ensembles. The piece ultimately liked a defining point to it. Many fine gestures and textures were created, but they often lacked purpose; the finest example was the fact the soloist double soprano saxophone, to play it for a microsecond before returning to the beast. The soloist was remarkable, his control of everything was fantastic, and to be honest if it were just a piece for bass saxophone I probably would have be wowed by it. Sadly because the dynamic and interaction between soloist and orchestra was underbaked it couldn't really turn into anything tangibly interesting. Which is a shame, saxophones need good repertoire, especially the lower members of the family. I can only really think of Georg Fredrich Haas's Concerto for Baritone Saxophone as the only decent work for low saxes. I'll just have to keep looking and listening.


The finale came in the form of Liza Lim's Pearl, Ochre, Hair String. To be honest I am divided about the work of Liza Lim, but I think it is because I either find the pieces are out of this world or just a bit limp. Thankfully this was solid and by solid I mean brutally violent! The opening screams and scrapes from the cellist armed with a stick wrapped in bow hair was a stunning jolt of electricity after the previous piece and really gripped everyone hard. The work really showed an elegant to and fro between beautiful serene harmonies and jagged sounds. It was by far the most brutal and intense piece of the night. A violent kick in the face after the early pieces full of charm and wit. The sensation was like spending a fine evening at dinner party, full of witty anecdotes and remarks before ending the night by being knocked out in a boxing ring. This is ultimately to everyone's strength I think, because it really highlighted the qualities of every piece, and made Liza Lim's more exhilarating.

The whole concert was a wondrous way to start a festival, to be honest I cannot imagine many other concerts which were so succinct and nuanced but also radically different. The juxtaposition of Liza Lim to Kurtag and Vyktinas Baltakas was inspired. I cannot wait for today's events in the contemporary art gallery.

100 60 70 90 40 26 80 50 - GAIDA Festival Preview

After a much needed breather, I am ready to manically type once again. And what a time it is too! GAIDA Festival starts in just one week. For those who didn't see my excitable wittering about the festival last year, GAIDA is one of Lithuania's most significant festivals. This annual festival is particularly important because it is a great platform of cultural exchange. Every year many wonderful musicians from across the globe come to Vilnius to show their art, and in return the festival presents many fine natives on a level grounding as their international counterparts. Last year's festival was a great smorgasbord of contemporary music, with pretty much everything from Francesco Filidei to Terry Riley. I don't want to dwell too much on last year's festival as I am eager to discuss this year's events, but for those who want to see more look here. 

This year looks like an intriguing one for two major reasons. Firstly the sheer quantity of composer anniversaries that are being celebrated is astronomical! Celebrating Julius Juzeliunas's centenary, Gyorgy Kurtag's 90th, Steve Reich's 80th, Peteris Vasks and what would have been Gerard Grisey's 80th, Luce Francesconi's, Michael Gordon's and Thierry De May's 60th, Liza Lim and Zita Bruzaite's 50th as well as many people's 40th Birthdays! Each of these composers could easily have a week dedicated to each of them, so you can imagine how manic the week is going to be with pieces from all of these composers. On a side note, in the press conference yesterday, Remigijus Merkelys argued the reason they were celebrating GAIDA's 26th anniversary was because of the multitude of significant anniversaries that coincide with it; the only reason I point this out is I am rather chuffed to be celebrating my 26th on the exact same day as GAIDA! 

And back to the festival, there are many fine concerts that I will be attending, denying myself sleep and food to see these fine events. But here are some of my highlights! 

Where better to start than the beginning? The opening concert looks like a fine occassion indeed with works by Liza Lim, Vykintas Baltakas, Vytautas Germanavicius, and Gyorgy Kurtag. The inclusion of Baltakas's commentum for cello and orchestra will be a lovely thing to witness. Gyorgy Kurtag's Double Concerto also looks like a fine display for the senses. Have a sneaky peak at commentum for cello and piano below:

As always, the Lietuvos Ansambliu Tinklas (Lithuanian Ensemble Network) will be a wonderful event to see. The mix of repertoire is extremely distant from their concert last year, so I am curious to see how the ensemble tackles it. There are also two premieres by Vytautas V. Jurgutis and Anatolijus Senderovas, so it will be fascinating to see what they have to offer.

The next concert that fascinates me is the duo of Goska Isphording and Maciej Frackiewicz. The accordion and harpsichord duo, yes you heard, accordion and harpsichord. So part of my fascination with this particular concert is the curiosity of witnessing such a mismatched pair of instruments perform together. To further the curiosity the mix of repertoire seems to be as mixed up as the instrumentation with works by Grisey, Vasks, Steen-Anderson, and Janulyte. A really curious mix indeed.

The next day sees Pierre-Laurent Aimard coming to Vilnius, I am not going to waste your time and tell you what you all already know. Pierre-Laurent is amazing, and the concert will be astonishing. On the same day is the Slovak Quasars Ensemble, the repertoire looks like something I'd enjoy sinking my teeth into.

The following day is a concert simply named Quartettisimo, and when you see there are four quartets involved, the title becomes incredibly apt. The programming from the outside seems the most succinct with works by Juzeliunas, Zibuokle Martinaitye, Ramunas Motiekaitis, Vasks, Sodeika, Ruta Vitkauskaite, and Simon Steen-Anderson. The three premieres will be intriguing to witness. 

The appearance of Kronos Quartet, Philip Glass, and Steve Reich, needs no introduction. We know what we are going to hear and the musicians are a fine mix indeed. On the same day Reich makes his mark, the young whippersnappers Ensemble Synaethesis, will stamp their feet and dig in their heels and place themselves on par with these elder giants. The mix of repertoire is curious, I am curious to see if they can deliver, I know the have the energy and drive to, time will surely tell.

On the 29th will see the National Symphony Orchestra performing, with works by Philippe Manoury, Luca Francesconi, Zita Bruzaite, and Michael Gordon. I am curious to hear how this particular concert will pan out. Once again there are piano duos playing alongside the orchestra, so in theory this could be quite a bombastic affair.

So overall, as you can plainly see, I am very excited about this years platter of performances. Hopefully they will live up to my enthusiastic excitability, and if not I will still probably enjoy myself greatly. Once again, I am glad to see there is a huge variety in the pieces and composers on display. The organisers have managed not to fall into the trap of a 'festival sound' and show a wonderfully wide spectrum of pieces. You can see more detail about the concerts here on the festival's website.

Ledonesiai - Four Hands and Icebergs

Last night in the cosy space of the Steinway and Sons dealer in Vilnius was a concert of 20th Century music for piano four hands. The duo of Diana Anna Kislovskaja and Lina Petkeviciute treated us to a nice varied programme of works by many fine composers over the past 100 years, with about half the repertoire being from the Baltic.


The concert opened with Diana quietly shuffling in to play Arvo Part's Fur Alina. The popular work for solo piano is performed so much within Lithuania and it is always lovely to hear it. The curious element for me, is what seems to be a Lithuanian habit of playing the piece twice. Diana showed a real calmness and ability to let notes ring, but I imagine if she slowed it down dramatically and bought the dynamic down too the performance would have been out of this world.

Then after a brief introduction of the concert as a whole, came a radical gear change. Poulenc's Sonata for Four Hands. This playful piece is another joyous piece, I don't get to hear quite as often as I'd like and the pair of Lina and Diana, really knew how to bring out the cheeky charm of Poulenc while retaining a great sense of intellect. The nuance and sheer dialogue as a duo was a definitive treat for the ears. Following this was the wonderfully brief Three Easy Pieces by Stravinsky. The pairs sense of charm and humour really came out in this piece, especially during passages of really heavy bitonality, which to my ears always sound amazingly sarcastic. 

After a minute breather, we came to our next Baltic piece, Pari Intervallo by Arvo Part. This piece is oddly not as popular, considering how wonderful it is. The pair played the piece well, but the problem is, to make Part really musical you really have to delve into the piece; just playing the notes is never enough. I don't know how aware the pair are of this, but Pari Intervallo is originally a work for organ, and so this kind of quality needs to be bought out of the piano duo. Leaving the pedal sustained for the entire piece, combined with an extremely steady tempi would really make the notes hang in the air magnificently. This being said last night's performance was still very nicely done, just that extra push would really make the piece electric. 

Of course John Adams would make some form of appearance in this concert. Its almost impossible to find a series of 20th Century concerts in Lithuania that don't feature minimalists. Lina rendition of China Gates was magnificently done I couldn't fault it. Then came a duo by a composer I had no previous knowledge of. Tiziano Bedetti's L'auriga celeste was a series of miniatures for piano four hands. Their brevity really bought out the charm of the music, never over staying its welcome. It was almost like having an overly polite guest visit you to utter a few little quips and anecdotes, before leaving quickly because they 'didn't want to be a bother'. The character of these miniatures really suited the duo quite naturally, everything spoke well, and they really seemed in tune with each other.

Following this came the focus of the concert Ledonesiai by Justina Trinkunaite. This work was one of the most substantial pieces of the concert and showed a composer with a sign of lots of promise. The opening was hypnotising, and the way it gathered its momentum was elegantly done. Nothing was over used, nothing was under appreciated. Every gesture had purpose and was effective. The directness of the overall dramaturgy was profoundly timed and avoided cliche. The climax of the work was striking and intense, with the roaring harmonies and resonating strings really creating a powerful discourse. Then the final Baltic composer appeared. Gintaras Sodeika's Cikados is a really lively and intensive piece. The interplay between the duo is bordering on the line of complete self destruction, but the duo walked through it.


Then came a rare treat in the Baltic, Feldman's Four Hands. Despite the huge popularity of American experimental music here in Lithuania, Morton Feldman hasn't seemed to connect to musicians in the same way; I am unsure if this is just availability of scores of just something in the local temperament. The performance was heartfelt, but to be honest a little fast. As Feldman had a masterful way of making pieces last hours, a piece like Four Hands really deserves to be steady. That being said, the interaction between the pair and the atmosphere they created was magical. The finale came in the form of Steve Morris's Heavy Light a really lively and playful piece, which was a nice way to round of a concert. But a part of me really wanted something a bit more profound or jubilant to finish.


The duo overall show a lot of promise. Technically speaking there is no faulting them, interpretation sometimes needs to be questioned more, but as they grow they can learn this very easily. My main thought is if they are going to go down the route of piano duos and piano four hands they really need to tackle some of the larger classics of the repertoire or alternatively really broaden their knowledge. The repertoire was very nice, the mix was good, but nothing really in their choices surprised me. This is something they should explore if they want to become a more substantial duo. I also say this in the hope they play works like Steve Martland's Drill or even the piano four hands rendition of Stravinsky's Rite of Spring. Either way I will be keeping my eye on them.

Osvaldas Balakauskas - Symphony No. 1

Today I wanted to go over a wonderful recording I recently came across of Osvaldas Balakauskas's Symphony No. 1. For those of you unfamiliar with his work Balakauskas is one of the most significant and crucial figures for Lithuanian music. In 1964-69 Balakauskas was studying in Kiev Boris Lyatoshinsky (1895-1967) (or Lyatoshynsky, depending on your preferred spelling). As the majority of his cumulative years as a composer were away from Lithuania, the knowledge he bought back with him would have been enough to secure his significance; particularly as during that time travel and exchange of information was still slow. Thanks to the cultural thaw under the years of Kruschev, information from Western Europe was seeping through into the Iron Curtain, but individuals needs to search intensively to find it. For Balakauskas being in Kiev allowed him to gain access to the works of Anton Webern, Olivier Messiaen, Iannis Xenakis,and Pierre Boulez; composers who would have a profound influence on his work.


Upon Balakauskas's return to Lithuania in 1972 he stood out as a singularity having not gone through the same 'rites of passage' as his contemporaries like Bronius Kutavicius or Feliksas Bajoras. But he was eager to continue striving forward delving deeper into serial technique crafting into something uniquely his. It must be pointed out here, that even though many Lithuanian composers from Benjaminas Gorbulskis to Vytautas Barkaukas, but it never really sunk in as a significant trend; unlike Britain, France, Germany, or America where the affects of serialism still ring out amongst composers. The sheer fact Balakauskas was delving into serialism so deeply is curious considering his surroundings. Then to realise he managed to do something only really matched by Peter Schat (1935-2003) by creating a serial-logic that adds a whole new interpretation of it.


But anyways back to the symphony. Balakauskas's first symphony was written in 1973, being one of the largest pieces he wrote upon his return to Lithuania. The symphony is a 24 minute beast for full orchestra and is fantastically intense to listen to. The symphony shows a radical young composer screaming, desperate to be heard. The opening flourishes and jagged edges dance their way around the orchestra, never wanting to settle down. The hard edges of the harmonies combined with the angular bouncing of the melody, despite their intensity, draw the listener deep into the fray. Moments of calm appear, but have an unsettling edge to them, a sensation similar to the eye of a storm. The angst slowly gathers momentum again, building into extremely powerful and tense moments. The contrapuntal violence between the lower brass and the high woodwinds makes for an intensive crossfire. The finale of the movement is extremely strong and potent, just a magnificent beast really before fading away to nothing.

The second movement is dark and lilts stealthily around. The passing melodic lines add to the mystery. A really fascinating movement which never truly reveals itself, just draws you deeper and deeper while it steadily and patiently gathers itself. The vaguely cyclic nature of the movement adds to the hypnotism, despite the intense climaxes that are reached, you are still lulled into a false sense of security. 


The finale movement builds with an extremely energetic fugue. The finale is bombastic and full of beans. The rhythmic intensity is always present, even at points of supposed calm. The sensation of drive and energy is unmatched really. The dense harmonies are crafted superbly, producing magnificent sonorities despite the complexity of the harmonic language. This combined with the magnificent rhythmic craft, produces an elegant work indeed. A truly underappreciated gem, which needs to be heard more. 

Vytautas Montvila: Chorai

As things are relatively calm on the concert front for, I thought it would be a nice opportunity to return to a cycle I started discussing this time last year. The Lithuanian composer Vytautas Montvila is one of the most curious composers I have discovered during my time within Lithuania. His skillful craft of combining folk music and sonoristic gestures together makes for a rather remarkable listen. 

In the post I did last year on Montvila I discussed his Gothic Poem, the first and largest part of a cycle of three orchestral pieces called Poems of Vilnius. In Gothic Poem we see variations forms of folk music appearing within the thick canonic texture. You can listen to it below:

Chorai is an interesting partner for the triptych, as ultimately it is seemingly the most modest. In comparison to the dense shimmering haze of Gothic Poem, Chorai starts with a simple, quiet diad of E and G#. This steadily builds into a beautiful modal undercurrent which the oboes introduce the main ideas of melodic focus. The entry of the horns and trombones brings with it a really rich and thick orchestration really bringing the orchestra to life. This gradually fades away to a very serene pause within the momentum. This slowly leads to a large gathering of energy and power where the flutes and horns contest their folk melodies against the oboes and clarinets. Another breathing space manifests itself, before culminating into the largest climax of the work. Like a lot of moments through the piece, every moment is short lived and only really briefly considered. The work after the climax begins to lose its energy and returns to the same stillness it opened with.


When compared directly to its partner piece, Gothic Poem, Chorai is seemingly naive in comparison to the larger segment. But within its simplicity and restrained modesty the work has a unique charm with it. The orchestration is highly skilled and oddly austere, when you consider the sheer mass Montvila is using within the piece. Within the context of the whole triptych, Chorai is a beautiful and much needed refrain. The dark intensity of the opening can only be countered by the direct openness of the Chorai, it also allows for Svente (the finale) to really let itself loose. Its joyous bombastic energy is majestic, and definitely something I will come to in the future.


You can listen to Chorai here, I hope you enjoy:

Jeronimas Kacinskas - Missa Brevis

For today's post I thought it would be nice to look back at one of my biggest loves from Lithuania during the early 20th Century, Jeronimas Kacinskas. A composer of intense originality and drive he wrote some of the most definitive and seminal works of Lithuania's history. Born 1907, Jeronimas Kacinskas was a part of the generation of composers who came to musical maturity at the same time Lithuania gained independence. This period was bustling with energy as many composers and artists were desperate to work out what is Lithuanian music? The search for national identity combined with a desire to modernise and keep up with the rest of Europe were desires particularly prevalent in Jeronimas Kacinskas and his contemporaries like Vytautas Bacevicius.


Jeronimas Kacinskas found that Lithuanian audiences during this period to be very hesitant to evolve with him, and in turn founded a musical journal Muzikos Barai which attempted to introduce people to new modern ideas being explored by artists. His desires to explore new ideas were so vital that he was recommend to study in Prague, where audiences and composers were far more experimental. Kacinskas followed this advice and went on to Prague where he learnt about the microtonal music of Alois Haba with whom he had taken many lessons. During this time Kacinskas had written his second string quartet, which was the first Lithuanian piece to use microtonal thinking. Sadly due to the chaos created by the onset of war this piece disappeared.


It is during this fraught period that saw many Eastern Europeans being forced to abandon their homes for calmer and more prosperous shores. For Kacinskas and his family, they fled the Soviets who had already labelled him as far too decadent. After a significant stasis in the USA controlled regions of Germany, Kacinskas went on to America with many diaspora Lithuanians like Vytautas Bacevicius. After his move to America, he stilled composed for many years and taught in Boston where he lived. Out of all his contemporaries in America, he was the only one to survive to see his native land regain independence where he was able to return and his music was finally able to be rediscovered by his kin.


Kacinskas's life is a fascinating one, mostly because it shows a composer who just brushed himself off and carried on. During his lifetime he wrote many significant works, his Nonetas is of particular significance due to its intensity and gorgeous brutality. The similarities with Bartok are very prevalent. This is a work I will return to in more detail, but I wanted to start off with his Missa Brevis (1945). This small work for male voices is quite a curious and beautiful piece. In its four movements you see a composer with a fine craft but also manages to add wonderful surprises within such a simple and confined space. I also find it particularly poignant considering it is a work written on the stroke of the second world war ending. And I simply adore that despite the chaos around him, he just wrote. Didn't need to make a big event of it, just wrote simply and directly and the result if beautiful.


The kyrie is almost homophonic throughout, the four part setting rolls and lilts around. Slowly gathering itself into really striking moments. The little surprises in the movement come in the form of little tertiary shifts where the music just skips a beat harmonically but it never interrupts the flow of the music, but actually extends it. The following sanctus builds up in a similar manner, with the same kind of tertiary shifts. The conclusion is really strong and just wonderful to listen to. The benedictus feels the most fluid with lines rippling along. Then the final agnus dei is just divine, a real treat for the ears.


The mass is brief and modest, but that in no way diminishes its beauty and craft. It is a real joy to listen to the whole thing. Below is a recording from a CD I recently got from the music information centre here in Vilnius. Enjoy!

A hoquet and an exploration of 10 years of Narbutaite

This evening in the overflowing National Art Gallery, was the second in a triptych of concerts dedicated to the life and work of Onute Narbutaite, who celebrates her 60th birthday this year. This particular concert was focused on a 10 year period of her life, from 1986-1995, a fascinating period for two reasons; firstly it is a period that isn't celebrated that greatly and secondly it is a period when the trademark Narbutaite sound evolved into the magic we know and love today.Once again it was wonderful to see a concert were we were nearly literally up to the rafters with audience members of all walks of life eager to hear this rare treats.

After a heartfelt speech giving tribute and concert began with the percussion trio 'Monogramme' (1992). The work started with sporadic pops and stabs from the percussionists, the mood was very much akin to Xenakis in their almost random but almost mathematical precise gesturing. From this gradually melodic materials appeared in the pitched percussions which glistened and rang in the hall ceremoniously. The sense of anticipation and energy was always simmering away in the work, even during passages of almost complete stillness. On the whole the work was intriguing for many reasons, firstly for its similarities to major European composers like Iannis Xenakis and Hans Abrahamsen (during the modal passages). In the work you can hear a desire to find something greater than what it is.


The following work 'Astuonstyge' (1986) is the oldest work featured in the concert and sadly hasn't aged as well as the other repertoire in the concert. The intensive violin and viola duo, is full of violent posturing from the musicians, as well as passages of quite serene beauty. But the work feels a bit lost on two grounds, firstly the blocky structure ultimately negates the violent passages, almost neutering them. This combined with lasting just a bit too long kind of sucked the energy out of the room. This being said, the work is a great demonstration of the contrapuntal skills of the then, younger composer. The piece also stands as a great test piece really demonstrating everything that can be achieved in such a dynamic. The performers were second to none, but I imagine if the structure was far more obviously organic, or the work was a tad shorter it would have been astounding. All this being said, Narbutaite has evolved into a truly magnificent composer, and this work serves as a good biographical piece, showing her evolution to her current state.


The third work was by far my personal favourite. 'Liberatio' (1989) is a work I have been vaguely familiar with for a long while now as it is featured on the wonderful CD produced my Finlandia which features her magnificent second symphony. With the first notes of the flute the piece grabs you. The hypnotic harmonic material slowly begins to grow, constantly circling on itself, it lures you in. Then at points when you are most mesmerised she strikes with bold brass chords and ringing dense harmonies. The sensation is as powerful and one sided as a hammer smashing an eclair, it completely decimates and makes a massive impact.This particular piece is a very poignant moment, with in this you can hear Narbutaite found her voice. But instead of timidly crafting it into elegant profundities she used that voice to scream. The work is magnificently brutal and the acoustic of the gallery only magnified it. A stunning piece and definitely worth listening to the recording which is on Spotify.


Following on from this, a short speech was given my Onute Narbutaite, allowing for massive stage management to occur for the final two pieces. The penultimate piece 'Hoquetus' (1993) is a curious little work for viola, cello, and double bass. In short the rhythmic games of the hoquet are like watching the manic dance of a three legged person. The gestures bounce around and the trio manage to keep a sense of jollity despite the obvious complexity in the rhythmic patterns. The piece was a well programmed bit of respite after the power of 'Liberatio' and the upcoming immensity of 'Verinys'.


The finale came in the form of 'Verinys' (1995), a fascinating ritual-like piece for winds, strings and percussion. The instrumentalists were dotted all over the place creating a wonderful 3D field of sound to surround  the audience. Each musician is given a collection of fragments that they are to play and the conductor defines the beginning of each section. What this set-up creates is a truly magical piece where the wind instruments slowly gather their combined sound, growing into a ringing magnificent aura of sound. Before slowly fading away as the next section takes hold. The sensation of time is rather curious within this piece as ideas calmly drift in, but like in nature, things fade away leaving only faint murmurs of their past existence. No matter their power or majesty everything fades away. The atmosphere after the final note was powerful. Holding everyone in place.


Even though within this concert only two pieces really stand the test of time, a concert like this still has a major value. It shows us the state of flux within the composer's own existence during this time, ignoring the social and political changes going on around her at the same time. It also shows the many routes she could have traveled as a composer, reminding us that despite the freshness of ideas used, doesn't mean they give the composer a decent amount of longevity to their work. Finally this kind of concert really allows us to understand how Narbutaite became Narbutaite, and if we are to understand great composers, understanding them in the context of their own works is of vital importance.