GAIDA 2017: The Snippets I heard

The time has essentially been and gone, GAIDA Festival 2017 stormed into Vilnius bringing a huge variety of new music as well as genuinely fascinating performances. For those who've seen my posts in previous years, know I approached this festival like a kid in a sweetshop. Flying from one event to another, manically typing and wittering in a sugar-fuelled trip. Annoyingly this year, I was rather distant, namely 1000 miles distant and merely seeing the wonderful reporting of Paulina Nalivaikaite and other social media discussion.

This being said, thanks to having people in the right places, and composers sharing their wonderful work I have had the chance to listen to two particular premieres. The first being a new work for piano and strings by Zibuokle Martinaityte called Chiaroscuro Triology. The work performed by Gabrielius Alekna (piano) and Robertas Servenikas (conductor) did initially give me alarm bells when I saw the title. Not because I was concerned about the quality of work, but more names like Chiaroscuro or Metamorphesis or Meditation or Sound Study have become overdone. Maybe I am just a cynic having been over indulged on such titles. However, once Zibuokle shared the recording on Soundcloud I obviously, had to listen instantly. And to be simple and direct. I was stunned. The moment the opening chord lands everything just feels right. The three movement work plays on different metaphors of light against dark, and it is explored to exquisite brilliance. This kind of duality opens up a fantastic conversational dynamic. Which is exploited well by the use of soloist. Gabrielius Alekna performs with such elegance it is almost like he was born for the sole purpose of performing this piece. I can only imagine within the concert hall setting the atmosphere must have been divine. Stunned into silence while the light and shadow dance their eternal dance right in our very ears.

The second work was shared to me personally by the composer. When I had initially heard Justina Repeckaite had been commissioned for an orchestral piece, I could have jumped for joy. It was so wonderful to see the festival had such faith in her to ask for an orchestral piece from the young prodigy. Having worked a lot over the year with Justina, there have been times I have rather felt like her shadow; constantly following and observing every inch of her creative process. Cosmatesque was not an exception. Having had the luxury of seeing the score shortly after completion I was struck by the skill and nuance within the piece. The organic control of timbre and pitch, the subtle flutters of percussion, and sheer directness of construction really struck me and I knew the performance would be a truly special event indeed. The performance, under the baton of Christopher Lyndon-Gee, was inspired. What particularly hit me about the performance was the conductor's tenacity and ability to craft the performance to his design. Often when conductors approach a work focused around a mass of sound, they almost get washed adrift by the sheer immensity of it. However Lyndon-Gee managed to really highlight and exploit the subtleties within the piece. The result was almost like witnessing and extended conversation across the orchestra, with a simple counterpoint of two melodies is spread across the technicolour spectrum of the orchestra. Each note and iteration sounding like a continuation of a never-ending melody. This is definitely the first time I have found myself almost suggesting Justina Repeckaite has a slight hint of Wagnerian flair in her work. But in reality the greater comparison is with Per Norgard's Voyage into the Golden Screen where the second movement his constructed on his infinity series. The constant rolling of sound and melodic figures carries you on quite the journey leaving you curious to see where the ending will take you. Just a joy to listen to.

Having listened to these two pieces alone, I can tell GAIDA 2017 was a huge success, I am just sad I missed it all. I was particularly curious to see how the other events went down. Either way, I sincerely hope I can return to the festival in 2018. 

Vidurnakcio saule

Last night in the buzzing atmosphere of the Filharmonie grand hall, was the second concert of the Vilnius Festival 2017. This particular concert drew quite a large crowd due to its guest soloist Mario Brunello and, especially in my case, the premiere of Juste Janulyte's Vidurnakcio saule or Midnight Sun. Now traditionally I would have avoided writing about the concert as there is only one Baltic composer in it, but I am very eager to make an exception in this circumstance. So in short the post is a bit off kilter from my usual ramblings.


So, lets begin! After the usual chitter-chatter to introduce the concert, festival, orchestra, thanking sponsors, and mention everyone to some lesser or greater extent, the concert began with the famous Adagietto. Sehr langsam from Mahler's fifth. I always have mixed feelings about ensembles and concerts programming this element of the symphony on its own, mostly because the sheer magnitude of the movements comes after the gut-wrenching turmoil of the preceding movements, either as a tonic to, or reluctant acceptance of the whole. Just performing the one movement on its own is a bit like smashing a Kinder Surprise and robbing the toy, without at least working through the chocolate beforehand. Anyways, the performance was done rather masterfully, and Modestas Pitrenas really came alive in the work, which he conducted from memory. What particularly attracted me to Pitrenas's rendition was his ability to conduct from memory and not do the conductor habit of staring at the now, non-existant stand; this allowed him to truly interact with the orchestra intimately and the effect was strong. My other joy came from the layout of the orchestra. As the ensemble were set up to perform the following premiere, the orchestral layout had cellos at the front with double-basses in the centre at the back, and violins and violas in an arc. This had the wonderful power of making the whole work sound grounded and more grandly weighted. A nice surprise indeed.

After some shuffling, and grand applause for the entering soloist came Vidurnakcio saule by Juste Janulyte. After the sheer success of her premiere in Riga, I was intrigued how she would respond to writing for soloist and ensemble again. Especially for the cello. An instrument with such a huge historic gravitas behind it, that makes writing a concerto for it an almost terrifying burden for any composer. The work started with hushed murmurs from the heavily muted soloist. His gestures heavily austere and restrained. The orchestra glistening like glass. Each entry was extremely intimate and continued a huge intense fragility throughout the work. The soloist was never overtly virtuosic, but Brunello's control of such disparate and timid material was insane. Many lesser performers would have cracked with such material. As the work progressed, the gate was slowly loosened, with practice mutes being swapped for the traditional mutes; bringing with it a greater energy. The work began to shrink away into nothingness before suddenly breaking into an intensely powerful climax. The entire hall was filled with sound, which was truly incredible when you consider the ensemble were just strings. From the disappearing wave of sound, the screaming soloist finally emerges after almost drowning in the sea of noise. 

This work did challenge me, mostly because what on this earth quite compares to it. And in reality there are very few works that seem to be achieving the same; or at least treating such a soloist in the same manner. Harold in Italy by Berlioz is the obvious comparison with its famous non-hero viola; but that still had the soloist dictating a narrative. This work didn't really strive for that. Another comparison is with Ligeti's cello concerto, but that two-movement work at least allowed the cellist out of his cage to have a wild moment at the end of the work. String Quartet and Orchestra by Feldman feels like the best comparison, with its fragile interactions and profound stillness. But still it is an inadequate comparison as the dynamic between soloist and orchestra still had 'friction' or a 'clash' between each other. My only real conclusion on the dynamic of the duality between the two is the idea that this work was a true concerto in an almost baroque sense. The two elements were at odds with each other. The soloist constantly trying to dictate a narrative, and the orchestra either submitting or retorting to it. The climax is quite so profound as it almost sees the ensemble realise that alone, they cannot beat the soloist, but united there is a chance. Which is where we see the soloist screaming in defiance. Only just managing to quell the weight and power of the united orchestra. For a piece that murmured for an extremely long length of time, it really had a lot to say. 

It must also be noted, after the wonderful performance by Mario Brunello, he performed a truly beautiful encore. I sadly did not catch the name of it, all I can say is it was beautiful!

After the break, the orchestra had returned for the final two pieces. The overture Ruy Blas by Mendelsohn and his 4th symphony. I was highly confused by the inclusion of these two pieces in the concert, mostly because of the fact they were so out of character with the rest of the concert. The theme was 'Italian' but there is such a huge history of Italian music, surely something could have fitted better. I understand concerts have to sell tickets, and god forbid assuming people might be coming for a contemporary piece, but if you can truly match up pieces well; the overall impact is vastly superior. This really was my sole complaint of the second half, as the orchestra had a lovely vibrancy and charm when performing these works, and Pitrenas really shows this is HIS repertoire, as he was even more endearing as a conductor with these works.  

I am a bit gutted I won't be able to catch tonight's concert dedicated to Osvaldas Balakauskas, but anyone who can go I cannot recommend it highly enough!

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.

Anatolijus Senderovas: 70th Birthday Bonanza

As I mentioned in the last post, things are starting to pick up in Vilnius and a large amount of concerts will be happening in a short space of time. Last night was a concert performed by the Lithuanian National Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Modestas Pitrenas. The concert was to celebrate the Lithuanian composer Anatolijus Sendervoas who turned 70 this year. The occasion was a very big one with Senderovas receiving a present from the president and was supported by many national or international foundations and institutions including the Lithuanian composers union and the Good Will Foundation.


Senderovas was born in 1945 to a Jewish family, which considering the seismic shifts and torturous events that preceded and followed his birth his existence is rather miraculous. He studied in what is now the Lithuanian Academy of Music and Theatre under the guidance of Eduardas Balsys. And his music is definitively Baltic. The openness, the clarity, the moments of austere beauty, and the ability to unleash powerful violence makes his music the template that many composers following him or his contemporaries aimed to achieve.


The concert included four works, his concerto in Do (2002) for cello and orchestra, ...ad Astra (2007) for accordion and orchestra, Paratum cor meum (1995) for cello, four keyboards played by one pianist, choir, and large orchestra, and a new work Sokis (dances)(2015). Following many speeches and many presents and bouquets being handed to Senderovas, the concert opened with the concerto in Do. The soloist was David Geringas, who performed the premiere of the work back in 2002. The piece opened in a still dark calm, allowing the cellist to really open up this quasi-free quasi-cadenza showing off a wide virtuosity and beauty. Gradually ripples spread across the orchestra building to rich sounds which allows managed to make the soloist more powerful. The constant building lead to quite a powerful climax before coming back to the same dark calm that opened the concerto.


The next piece ...ad Astra was the work I was most familiar with before the concert, due mostly to the fact when I was writing my own concerto for accordion, Martynas Levickis kept referring me to his powerful piece. Hearing the two concerto side by side was fascinating, in the sense that one it seemed Senderovas had built quite a wonderful formula for producing concerti using a similar architecture but still make the work sound wildly different and unique. Part of it hangs in the instrumentation, whereas the concerto in Do is extremely lyrical this accordion concerto is violent and dense. Thick clusters spread from the soloist to the orchestra and the climax of the work is quite a powerful roar from the orchestra, it was especially intense as I somehow ended up sat in the front row. The whole concerti was played astounding well by the soloist Geir Draugsvoll.


After the interval and a lot of stage change, the concert resumed with Paratum cor meum. A monumental work, due to its size and forces. The Lithuanian choir Jauna Muzika supported the orchestra in this piece. Indre Baikstyte had the task of jumping across the four keyboards, which included piano, harpsichord, electric organ, and celeste. David Geringas took centre stage for the solo cello part. The text of the work focuses on quotes from the Psalms and Ecclesiastes. The quotations focus mostly yearning for release and the work reflects this through very beautiful solemn stillness. The interaction of soloist and choir with the orchestra is very similar to Flos Campi by Vaughan-Williams. Where instead of a solo singer with an aria, the soloist reflects the mood and beauty of the words. The moments of violence and chaos seems to detract from the work as it made the work feel a bit stop start but this being said, the violence was a powerful thing to witness.


The final work was a world premiere by Senderovas written especially for the concert. Sokis (dances) in short is, if you can imagine the result of Karlheinz Stockhausen writing authentic Klezmer music. The piece started with a bit of confusion when the compere Darius Uzkuraitis said: There might be a soloist, we don't really know. And a stage manager appeared with music before disappearing. The piece actually opened with clarinets wailing away at the Jewish folk tune, and it bounces along getting slowly more insane, before a sudden break into chaos. This chaos is suddenly halted by conductor Modestas Pitrenas, who then asked: Where is our soloist? The orchestra then shouted loudly for Geringas who walked out proudly before joining in on the fun. The piece carries on then descends again into chaos, Pitrenas asked again: Where is our soloist? The orchestra promptly shouted for Draugsvoll who also appeared proudly and added the occasion. It carried on dancing away, going like a bull through a china shop. When chaos ensued again Pitrenas screamed: What is this noise, what is going on? This lead to a small competitive cadenzas from Draugsvoll, Baikstyte, and Geringas, each zanier than the last. Then like a muscle man on steroids the dances charged on before coming to a loud end.

The concert was a fun experience, and I sincerely hope Sokis got recorded, because of the wild and choatic forces it would be hard to make many future performances. Overall it was a wonderful mark and nod to the birthday boy and was performed beautifully by the orchestra and conducotr Modestas Pitrenas. A combination I hope to see many more times during my time here in Vilnius.