Esplanade Theatre, Esplanade Theatres on the Bay.
24 February 2012

Cast:
Don Giovanni:  Song Kee Chang
Leporello: Huang Rong Hai
Donna Anna: Nancy Yuen
Il Commendatore: William Lim
Don Ottavio: Melvin Tan
Donna Elvira: Ee-Ping
Zerlina: Cherylene Liew
Masseto: Martin Ng

Singapore Lyric Opera Orchestra and Opera Chorus
Conductor: Joshua Tan Kang Ming
Director: Tom Hawkes

Tickets for this review were provided by the Singapore Lyric Opera.

Review by Derek Lim

Singapore hasn’t had a very impressive track record with Mozart operas in the last twenty years. In fact, apart from Die Zauberflöte, trotted out every now and again, his other works have been roundly neglected. It’s not surprising – Puccini and Verdi are more audience-friendly and certainly ticket sales remain an important concern, given our government lamentable budget for the arts.

But an opera company that hasn’t staged Don Giovanni can hardly be called one at all, and I’m happy that the SLO waited this long to bring out what was a very creditable performance of what many consider Mozart’s greatest opera.

The overall tone of the direction emphasized the comic over the dark. Second prize winner of the Mitropoulos conducting competition, Singaporean conductor Joshua Tan Kang Ming’s debut with the Lyric Opera was effective but rather literal, and could have delved deeper into the psyche of the work.

The famous overture set the stage for the rest of the evening. Energetically taken at a HIP-influenced tempo, the ominous chords of the opening Andante seemed less tragic than usual. There could have been more nuance, though the orchestra, polished and nimble, managed to sparkle through the even quicker Allegro molto. Better characterization could have helped the episodes from merging one into the other.

Many of these qualities could be said to apply to Tan’s treatment of the opera as a whole. Aside from some of the better known arias and duets, some numbers were under-characterized, the witty commentary from the orchestra and musical interplay that one might hear from some of the great Mozart conductors in short supply. The winds, in particular, could have been brought out to the fore more often. What was provided was a reliable rather than inspired framework for the singers to perform within. Shane Thio likewise provided an expert continuo on the harpsichord, less fancy than some but enjoyable, and provided the important function of commenting and pushing the action on.

The leads were overall well cast – South Korean Song Kee Chang’s (previously seen in the SLO’s Zauberflöte as Papageno) baritone marginally richer and more alluring than his side-kick Leporello’s. Though billed as a bass-baritone, Huang Rong Hai’s smooth, velvety voice was much brighter than those who typically play Leporello (think Alexander Kipnis), resulting in a Don Giovanni and a Leporello who were vocally so similar that it became possible to understand how they could have been mistaken for one another (they were rather similar in terms of build and height as well). Choice or coincidence? Either way, the sheer musicality in control of both these fabulous singers’ voices was undeniable, with both leading incredibly charming performances of their respective roles.

The camaraderie and fun was palpable as well, and the tomfoolery believable. Each did well in their famous arias, Huang Rong Hai appropriately nimble in his Catalogue Aria, rather too suave in voice as well as person, but musically impeccable, though sometimes he resorted to hamming up vocally to lend interest to the proceedings.

Song Kee Chang played the part of the rake to a T, decked up in the garments of a nobleman, the roguish sweetness of his voice made it easier to forgive Zerlina for leaving Masetto on their wedding night. Vocally, they were a lovely match in La ci darem la mano, with Song’s burnished baritone a perfect foil to Cherylene Liew’s lovely soubrette soprano.

The men had an easy bro-mance happening, Don Giovanni convincingly aware of his servant’s weaknesses and exactly how to exploit them, that brought us through the opera and made everything just that much more enjoyable.

The ladies were a mixed bunch. SLO stalwart Nancy Yuen played the difficult part of Donna Anna. Not in her best voice, control seemed problematic especially in her higher registers. No one would ever accuse Yuen of producing an ugly note, but I thought there could have been more fleshing out of her character. Director Tom Hawkes has her pegged as a simpler character than most sopranos would have her – her ignorance about her father’s assailant is real here, outrage honest in Or sai chi l’onore (taken a little more slowly than usual by Yuen, and with less thrust) I would gladly have given up some of that lovely vocalising for a little more character, more fire.

Ee-Ping’s plush Donna Elvira certainly had more abandon, starting with Ah chi mi dici mai, and was the strongest of the three, with great energy, with the role firmly in her range. Her passion for destroying (and loving) Giovanni was apparent, and both moving and frustrating. Here was a woman who had given up her life to follow her love around, and not having it requited, sets out to destroy any possible dalliances he might have.

The last of the trio, Liew’s young, sweet Zerlina was a delight to listen to, and to watch, her Batti, batti, O Masetto loving and honest, not just an attempt to sweet-talk him into accepting her back. Martin Ng as Masetto was less so. His bass was vocally thin and though intelligently used, and difficult to enjoy as a result. His facial expressions were likewise distracting, his physical approach to comedy causing him often to look like a bumbling fool and shifting the balance firmly in favour of Giovanni when it came to the audience’s affections.

Perhaps one of the most unrewarding roles in opera is Don Ottavio. He’s clearly cheated on by Donna Anna, yet remains blissfully oblivious ad supportive of her. Here played by tenor Melvin Tan, who last played the first Jew in SLO’s Salome. His performance had all the notes, and surely finesse wasn’t missing, but it was frightfully un-Italianate, and somewhat distracting as a result. This was too bad, since his Dalla sua pace showed excellent range and breath control, though it could have been more plaintive.

Which leaves us only to mention William Lim. Still beautiful, his voice seems to have tamed out some of that quick vibrato that caused him problems in the past. Still, I’ve always thought of Il Commendatore as the territory of true basses. His voice was also a little too small to create much of a spectral impression in his exchanges with Giovanni, when you expect to be startled. It was all a little underwhelming. Perhaps a little discreet amplification would have helped bring the voice into perspective given how much larger the two leads’ voices were.

Direction Tom Hawkes opted for a middle of the road approach with regard the staging, both economical yet engaging. Within the limits of the set budget, there was intelligent use of the double story baroque looking facade on the left, allowing some spacial interest, while never becoming too complex. Occasionally some of the Filipino choir came on stage pushing props around such as a hedge. I thought it would become a little concept-y but it worked out and wasn’t too distracting. Costumes were simple and conventional, as was lighting.

Overall, an attractive production and another feather in the Singapore Lyric Opera’s growing list of successes.

Browse still shots from Don Giovanni below. Photos were provided courtesy of the Singapore Lyric Opera.

Mantra by Orlando Consort (UK) @ National Museum of Singapore
5 Nov 2011, 8pm
Gallery Theatre, National Museum of Singapore

By Victor Gan

Faddish fusion or historically informed reconstruction? While publicity posited as colonial juxtapositions, these performances were mostly new compositions, intending to inject some fun into the sometimes po-faced early music business.

The Orlando Consort needs no introduction to those interested in medieval and renaissance polyphony. Pioneers who merged the flurry of British scholarship in early music together with extensive experience in sacred music afforded choral scholars in English cathedrals and chapels, their recordings from the 1990s have been landmarks in the field. Why then risk the opprobium of fans by venturing into cross-over? Sometimes, musicians are not immune from wanting a challenge, especially if it means sharing and learning from other professionals who normally work at a tangent. The catalyst for this collaboration was the dismissal from participation from a music festival because it had a South Asian theme. Did European polyphony have nothing to do with the New World? 17th century manuscripts from Latin America have shown the flourishing of Spanish sacred music in churches there, adapted somewhat to local needs. Similar notated evidence is lacking in India, but witnesses do describe the use of local instruments and local melodies in church services in the 16th century. What would be required is a radical re-imagining of the confluence.

The ideal partners for this might be traditional Hindustani classical musicians, but their training is notoriously hidebound. The partners the Orlando Consort found were Indian artists keen on adapating Indian instruments and styles to interact with Western ideas: Jonathan Mayer, conservatoire-trained musician, sitarist and scion of Indo-Jazz fusion pioneer John Mayer; Kuljit Bhamra, self-taught tabla player and Bhangra pioneer; and young singer Shahid Khan. Perhaps inevitably, what ensued could not be seriously described as historically-informed. It was more musicians riffing at the letdown after working though a music festival: adding Bhangra beats to a Notre-Dame organum, embellishing an Escobar motet with Hindustani vocal technique, and mixing religious texts and musical themes somewhat indiscriminately.

The most stimulating composition was an attempt at using an alternatim structure, chant alternating with polyphony, to sketch out how the Salve Regina chant in the Dorian mode might modulate into Kirwani raga. Each side also performed one item straight: the Orlando Consort’s rendition of Guerrero’s Quae est istae was deeply moving, despite the dry as dust acoustic in the National Museum Gallery. The raga rendition by the Indian musicians was by necessity severely truncated, from the normal 2-3 hours to a few minutes, with rather unorthodox sitar technique by Mayer and earnest but immature vocalisation by Khan. The concert ended with audience interaction call and response melange led by Khan, who got into the spirit of mixing it all up by being moved to modern club dance moves on stage. Kuljit Bhamra then invited all to come up and try out the instruments; how many people can say they’ve been taught to play by an MBE and DMus?

There are good things to be found in this recording, most of which arise from the virtuosic playing of the young musicians in this orchestra. Unfortunately Dudamel favours flash over substance in this symphony, which requires a firm hand to prevent it from becoming merely another concerto for orchestra. Heavy handed in his rubato, handling of transition passages and often at odds with the music, Dudamel’s first two movements fare well enough, despite lack of tension in the second movement – hardly with greatest vehemence – and lack-lustre solo parts.

The Scherzo isn’t given room to breathe and comes across an exercise in showing off the orchestra’s capabilities; the famous Adagietto, with some wrong-headed, unsubtle glissandi, comes across maudlin rather than passionate, with the climax missing the spot entirely in its general warmth.But it is the final movement, with its contrapuntal threads and constant fugato, that shows Dudamel not to be a very sympathetic Mahlerian. Taken at a nearly aggressive speed, the orchestra admirably manages to keep up, but at the expense of messy ensemble and feeling. The music doesn’t dance the way it can, and the whole thing feels rushed (just 14:08!). Add to that some questionable, and again unsubtle tempo choices (the rush into the coda seems forced, for example) and you have a very unsatisfactory ending to an otherwise unexceptional reading of this (nowadays) often played symphony. The orchestra probably have the chops to play this symphony, just not under Gustavo Dudamel.

Dichterliebe Op. 48
Peter Ong, Tenor
Shane Thio, Piano

4 Sept 2011
Living Room, The Arts House

by Victor Gan

Lieder in Singapore seems to come in spurts, with the Sing Song Club’s Lieder Festival preceded by a Romantic song recital featuring the Brahms Liebesliederwaltzer at the School of the Arts last month. The one constant was Shane Thio, whom Singapore is lucky to have as her stalwart accompanist. While the SOTA recital was well-attended, perhaps by students of the four recitalists, all prominent local pedagogues, the Arts House Festival was plagued by meagre audiences. The opening concerts had less than thirty and the final recital opened to an audience of five.

Programming for the Schunmann half of the Festival paired his main cycles with lesser known works from 1840. William Lim sang the Sechs Gedichte aus dem Liederbuch eines Malers, op. 36, texts by Reinecke. Graham Johnson in his notes to the Hyperion complete recordings quotes Eric Sams as calling them ‘indifferent’. Neither text nor setting is particularly inspired, but are very much centred in the folkish Teutonic tradition. William Lim with his well-oiled dark-hued instrument did them justice. Keeping a mellifluous tone without dramatic excess worked well, and if his Elven Queen in No.5, Dichters Genesung, marched rather than flitted, perhaps the Northern fey, even those in love, tend towards the martial.

The Living Room at the Arts House is a fine venue for chamber music recitals: the high ceilings and generous resonance give the piano, a very pleasantly rounded Shigeru Kawai, the most friendly acoustical environment I’ve heard in Singapore.

Peter Ong, a Malaysian tenor who performed the cycle in 2006 at the Esplanade, proved an engaging performer. In order to range from whispered entreaties to ringing cries, he forwent a consistent bel canto tone. The small venue supported this dramatic license; what is live performance for if not to allow the magic of combining acoustic space, performer choice and audience reaction in an evanescent melange. With this challenging music though, better technique would have helped. Vocal tension led to a tendency to sing under the note when pushed, and the consonants suffered from too much English aspiration. Softer passages were undersupported, with resonance changes across register and dynamic breaks.

Postscript on recordings:

Dichterliebe, like all great music, allows for myriad interpretations. For fresh-voiced earnestness and effortless singing, the Russians tenors are hard to beat, with Ivan Kozlovsky on a Melodiya LP and Vinogradov reissued on Preiser. If plangent baritones are wanted, the ever-stylish Panzera and Souzay (more so in his earlier recordings) remain among those I play most often. Pierre Bernac with Casadesus remains an idiosyncratic choice — if not vocally outstanding, he maintains a real connection with the listeners. Fischer-Dieskau was probably most well-balanced with Jorg Demus in a post-war DGG recording, but his Carnegie Hall extravaganza with Horowitz needs to be heard, if only for the stupdendous pianism. Of recent recordings, Ian Bostridge’s was one of the first to turn me on to lieder, and has fewer of his vocal mannerisms than later recordings. The last live performance I heard was by Mark Padmore, whose seamless tenor coped admirably with the demands of the cycle.

Richard Strauss: Salome

Director: Andrew Sinclair
Conductor: Peter Selwyn
Assistant Conductor: Timothy Carey
Set Designer: Justin Hill
Costume Designer: Phylia Poh
Lighting Designer: Lim Yu-Beng
Choreographer: Gani Karim

Cast:
Salome : Janice Watson

King Herod: Hubert Francis
Herodias: Bernadette Cullen
Jokanaan: Dawid Kimberg
Narraboth: Kota Murakami
Page: Anna Koor
First Jew: Melvin Tan
Second Jew: Raymond Lee Pei Khoon
Third Jew: Ruben Aldea
Fourth Jew: Antoine Garth
Fifth Jew: Brent Allcock
First Nazarene: Martin Ng
Second Nazarene: Reuben Lai
First Soldier: William Lim
Second Soldier: Huang Rong Hai
A Cappadocian: Martin Ng
A Slave Girl: Su Yi Wen

If you want to watch a gorgeously played, lovingly directed and an overall winner of a Salome, make sure you don’t miss the Singapore Lyric Opera’s last two (of four) performances this coming Monday and Tuesday (22-23 August 2011). The company’s first foray into any of Strauss’ operas, this production distinguished itself in director Andrew Sinclair’s obvious familiarity of the subject, the strong cast of singers as well as the conductor, Peter Selwyn’s command of the breadth and colour of this wonderful piece. The opera sinks or swims depending on the orchestra, and while I must say the Singapore Lyric Opera’s orchestras have proven their mettle over the last few productions, nothing prepared me for the sheer enjoyment of this one, with not a weak spot to be heard, excellent winds, spot-on percussion, lurid strings and obligatto parts throughout. The various themes were appropriately grave in their execution, lending a great atmosphere.

The core of any Salome, besides the orchestra of course, is the titular role and the Jokanaan. Janice Watson, while integrating strongly with the rest of the cast, is clearly in a class of her own vocally, and was a joy to hear and watch. Her soprano is a Straussian one – huge in its range and yet with enough tenderness and lyricism to have us believe that she is a teenager. Encompassing a wide range of colours, the ease with which she negotiated the role vocally, with gossamer high notes worthy of any Sophie, were a joy to behold, with crisp German you could do dictation to. Clearly she wasn’t a teenager, but with her petulance, pouting and believable manipulation of Herod, she could have passed off as one.

Herod, of course, is one the other roles in this opera that makes or breaks it. Hubert Francis’ Beckmesser-ish, slightly nasal voice, lent much character to this role – usually portrayed by corpulent tenors. If it was slightly too touchy-feely between Herod and Salome, that was entirely the director’s prerogative and wasn’t unbelievable. In all, it was a commanding performance.

His wife Herodias, portrayed by Australian Bernadette Cullen, was in comparison, imperious and towering, with a mezzo-soprano that I’d imagine, would make a great Fricka.

Jokanaan, as played by the South African born, currently UK-based Dawid Kimberg, was again well-cast, with a rich, chcolatey baritone reminiscent of a Bryn Terfel. His medium sized voice, when saying the cryptic words at the start to Strauss’ erotically charged score, made me tremble. His interplay with Salome created a slightly controversial element in this production – here, the director had him slowly but surely seduced by Salome, only to pry himself away from her and retreat to the cistern – another slightly controversial action here that would have raised eyebrows at the very least. As Jokanaan descends back to the cistern, Salome clung to its cover, then appeared to be (to put it delicately) touching herself as it was laid back down. It was move that made sense, however, given her general impulsiveness, lack of concern of people around her and her instant attraction to the Baptist. Given that Jokanaan isn’t physically seen again for the rest of the opera, it lent an interesting, slightly scandalous, yet fairly warranted touch to the whole scene.

An account of Salome isn’t complete without a discussion of her Dance of the Seven Veils, and Gani Karim, one of the more respected choreographers in Singapore, chose to display a harem of topless male dancers, whose lithe, athletic bodies added much colour to the scene. Drawn on abs aside, their introductory routines, well-rehearsed interplay with Janice Watson and their grasp of the stage made this quite memorable. While you’d never mistake her for a prima ballerina, Watson’s own dance managed to be rather seductive, with much colour in her unveiling and interaction with the dancers and her audience and everything looked very natural – well done! The costumes here were appropriately exotic and felt slightly middle-Eastern.

A brief note about the rest of the supporting cast – Melvin Tan, as the First Jew, stood out here, with his grasp of the part. The director has them – as Strauss and Wilde intended – quarrel in the worst caricature of the Jews, who are portrayed as bickering fools by Wilde. What I have a little issue with is playing up the anti-Semitic stereotypes, with the Jews fawning and looking more than a little interested when Herod offers his riches to Salome. Kota Murakami as Narraboth was another well-cast role – he seems to be appearing in almost every opera nowadays with the SLO, and his high lyrical notes were a pleasure. Anna Koor as the hapless Page was unobtrusive, a bit of luxury casting since she can definitely play bigger roles.

While Singapore’s opera scene is still in its nascent stage, successes such as this Salome rightly point toward bigger and better things to come. I hope that finances will allow the company to move slowly but surely away from sure-fire hits toward the less-heard operas in Singapore. The SLO is beginning to form a reputation with its recent triumphs, long may this winning streak grow.

All of the following photos was provided by Singapore Lyric Opera

I wasn’t able to attend this performance as I was overseas, but I wish I had as it is one of the fresher performances I have heard of this (now) oft-played symphony in a while. The confident young orchestra musicians put up quite a performance, with Chan Tze Law leading them with a generally steady hand. The complex opening funeral march movement is navigated with authority and the music feels lived-in, with some really good playing, especially in the lower strings, crucial in this symphony. Tempi are brisk and in style I was most often reminded of Haitink – straightforward and not too interventionist – Chan comes off better when he doesn’t pull the music around too much; when he does it can sometimes come across a little practiced. A little atmospheric lead time before the music started in the first movement wouldn’t have hurt, but that’s just a quibble. The recording sounds multi-miked.

The Andante moderato and Scherzo that follow tend to shy away from Mahler’s humour and acerbic wit, but aside from minor ensemble issues the players again have a good feel for the music. Sometimes I wish Chan would allow the music to breathe a little, relax, but there is sufficient contrast between the preceding first movement and the subsequent two to make its mark. Winds, always important in the Scherzo, make their presence felt quite well indeed, with the solo bits taken with much character.

The ‘Urlicht’ is the make-or-break, the core of this symphony, to me, and I’m afraid Rebecca Chellappah, the mezzo here, was its weak point. Slightly soft-edged German, coupled with a lack of resonance and long line, a slightly quick vibrato, as well as Chan sometimes going ahead with his own quick tempo and not supporting the soloist as much as he could, made this movement rather disappointing, for me, a bit of a pity, since there was some really nice balance in the brass chorale. This movement can be truly cosmic in the right voice; not here.

Despite some mishaps and tiredness evident especially (and understandably) in the brass, the epic Finale is a laudable attempt at the movement. Again, generally quick tempi prevailed, right from the start of the movement, ensuring that momentum wasn’t lost – with a stronger orchestra this might have been different. The earth-shattering ‘march of the dead’ could have started stronger – the percussion sounding somewhat recessed and not quite playing as loud as it is possible, with some agogics  here that I would rather not have had, but spirited it was. I would have preferred the off-stage band sounding actually off-stage, here they sometimes obscured the prevailing musical lines.

The grosser Appell again showed tiredness in the brass, with some lack of concentration, but with generally accurate playing otherwise.

That brings us to the choral section, a bold move which Mahler took right off Beethoven’s Ninth, but made his own. Here there are balancing problems in the recording which may not have been present in the concert hall – the soprano practically obliterates the rest of the choir, which itself sounds rather small here. A beat in the voice and some swoops up to notes make her rather unideal for me, though her lyric voice is otherwise suitable for the part. Her singing lacks urgency,  which the conductor, choir and orchestra demonstrate winningly in the final climax. With the gorgeous Esplanade Klais organ, Chan doesn’t drag it out as some conductors like to do, but brings it to its conclusion with necessary gravitas and power.

A very good performance, then, coming from a youth orchestra. It doesn’t quite storm the heavens the way, for example, some of the greats (Tennstedt, Klemperer, Barbirolli) do, but in all, a very creditable record of a live performance.

by Derek Lim

Passing through the Esplanade this very hot Sunday evening to enjoy the cool, I walked through the concourse where the community centre based group Ministry of Bells was performing. Out of curiousity, not having heard a hand-bell ensemble before, I stayed and found myself entertained, amazed and engaged in a way that I haven’t been with other live music performances for while. The best thing? It was free.

Through the half-hour, the ensemble conductor led the group of twenty handbells performers, mostly girls (there was one guy) in their teens to ladies in their mid-twenties, through tasteful arrangements of tunes from Elton John’s ‘The Lion King’ (the musical version of which is currently being performed at the Marina Bay Sands), more tunes from Andrew Lloyd Webber’s ‘Phantom of the Opera’, a solo by Melody Chen (according to the conductor the only capable of doing so in Singapore), accompanied by the conductor on piano named ‘Black Orpheus’ and other popular songs like ‘Quando, Quando, Quando’.

In the ensemble, arranged from the higher-tuned bells on the left to the lower pitched ones on right, the musicians sounded their bells by either ringing them in the usual way, clapping them on the table or striking them with a wool-headed drumstick. The instruments joyous clinging and clanging was at once enchanting and uplifting.

There was a delicate dance best appreciated when looking at a few of the musicians at once when for a run of notes was played, requiring coordination and technique in allowing the bells reach their reasonance, stopping their tone and letting them ring. Some of the members in charge of the higher-pitched bells managed four different ones at a time, with the leader Melody Chen performing on an astounding 30 bells in all in her solo, which was thrown off with ease, but not so easily that one couldn’t appreciate the difficulties with handling so many disparate instruments.

If the opportunity to watch this talented group comes by again, I’d very much recommend spending some time with them. It isn’t your typical classical music act, but when everyone’s having such fun, who cares?

LANXESS SNYO CLASSIC presents

Wagner: Meistersinger Overture
Tchaikovsky: Violin Concerto
Darrell Ang: Fanfare for a Frazzled Earth (World Premiere)
Cesar Franck: Symphony
Alexander Polishchuk, conductor
Lara St John, violin. Singapore National Youth Orchestra. Thursday, 21 Apr 2011, 7:30pm Esplanade Concert Hall Review by Derek Lim

We’ve never had it so good.

If evidence were needed of Singapore’s developing classical music, scene, the inquirer would do well to look not at our only professional orchestra, whose programming has remained fairly staid and unexciting, and whose guest artists tend to emanate from the same stable, but at the mutitude of amateur acts that we now have. The Philharmonia Orchestra, Orchestra of the Music Makers and the Singapore National Youth Orchestra are just some of the names that come immediately to mind.

The last is just one of the high-profile orchestras that the spotlight turned upon. With a three year partnership with LANXESS, the SNYO, made up mainly of school children between the ages of 12 and 18, has funding to study with some of the best local trainers so they may fully develop their talents, the fruit of which were on display tonight. The concert was led by guest Alexander Polishchuk, with Canadian violinist Lara St John performing the Tchaikovsky, and if I were to be honest, the young musicians deserved better from both of these seasoned performers.

The opening ‘Meistersinger’ Overture was remarkable for its lack of sensitivity to mood and colour, despite its very promising, richly-sounding opening with some nice wind contributions. The strings were made constantly to play legato at the expensive of lightness and propulsion, resulting in musical sludge.Disappointing in an entirely different way was Lara St John, whose offensive attack on the Tchaikovsky violin concerto revealed a different sort of musical cynicism.

Though she’s released many an album, Lara St John’s early record of solo Bach remains, for its cover art, the most controversial, sporting as it were the violinist with her chest barely covered by her violin, a record whose artistic merits, however, far outweighted its controversy. It’s an album I still recommend. I’ve always wanted to hear her in concert, but her performance tonight was something I’d rather soon forget.

Wearing an emerald dress and statuesque in her height, the Canadian violinist sported a towering presence that failed to translate to musical heights. While she probably possesses the technical chops to play the demanding part (I use ‘probably’ as there were a couple of chordal spots in the first movement which she had to retreat to slower tempo, and which I’d give a benefit of a doubt), her delivery lurching from phrase to phrase, with often unmusical glissandi and unwritten microtones as well as spots where notes just weren’t clearly articulated within a single bar, such that they were inaudible.

Overall it gave the impression of a superficially flashy reading that more interested in pursuing the dramatic possibilities than exploring the musical depths of the work. Incidentally, St. John played what seemed to be a hybrid-Auer version of the cadenza. The Canzonetta’s chaste melody also suffered from the lack of a straightforward delivery, fussy and with a preening vanity that detracted from Tchaikovsky’s homesick ode to Mother Russia.

Moments of fleeting beauty where she connected with the music only served to contrast against the many instances where she didn’t. The finale, though superficially exciting, suffered from many of the problems that plagued the first.

When I spoke to Ms St John later to convey my feelings on the performance, bringing up, as an exampe, the copious unmusical glissandi, she graciously thanked me for telling her, but said, ‘Well, it is a Romantic concerto.’ I didn’t have a reply ready then, but Ms St John, I’d point you to the great Russian violinists – Oistrakh, Kogan, as well as the non-Russians, who got under the skin of the music just fine without it.

Though much of the accompaniment was rather straightfoward and pedestrian, the student orchestra must be congratulated on the articulate, musical contributions from the various wind soloists, especially the principal flute and bassoon, as well as their attentiveness to the soloist, who must have been difficult to follow.

The second half started off strong, with the SNYO Music Director Darrell Ang’s frenetic ‘Fanfare for a Frazzled Earth’, a five minute, highly Stravinsky influenced (on the composer’s own admission) – swathes of ‘Sacre’ and ‘Petrushka’ with more (as I heard it), Ravel and other ‘Impressionist’ composer’s influence. With strong use of the brass and woodwinds, in some parts heavily contrapuntal writing, it nevertheless kept my attention throughout and was exciting to listen to, even though I couldn’t make out which Chinese tune exactly was used. I liked the arabesques where flutes accompanied the afore-mentioned tunes – very Ravelian. This was the best-played piece this evening, and seems a sure crowd-pleaser, especially with its brevity.

The Franck started off suprisingly well, with lots of energetic, youthful playing that lacked not one bit of passion. Evidently well-drilled, Polishchuk led the young musicians well through a very successful first movement, atmospheric and brooding in the ‘Lento’, with particular attention to dynamics and bursting forth with blazing fervour in the ‘Allegro ma non troppo’. The ensuing two movements, despite some really good work on the parts of the solo harpist, who came forth confidently and strongly, some lovely tone from the cor anglais were, in comparison, lugubrious and lacking concentration.

The SNYO’s next appearance at the Esplanade with the Glinka ‘Ruslan and Ludmilla’, Prokofiev’s Second Piano Concerto, played by Lim Yan and Tchaikovsky’s Fifth Symphony, led by their own Music Director Darrell Ang, looks to be a more successful event and I look forward to hearing them perform with the benefit of more rehearsals with the performers themselves.

Postlude: I can’t let it pass that this concert had some of the most I’ll behaved concert goers I’ve ever had a chance to share a concert hall with. Sitting in Circle 1, an entire row of Caucasian men and women thought it fit to speak, laugh and titter amongst themselves during nearly every single work. A shhh from me shushed them up only momentarily; what’s worse is that other concert goers near them allowed them to continue without comment. Pens dropping, candies being unwrapped, booklets falling and at one point a kid’s toy were only some of the extraneous noises that we had to deal with. Folks, we’re here to listen to the musicians, not to you. It’s only common courtesy.

Fantasie

Debussy Images, Book I
Chopin Polonaise-Fantaisie
Chopin Sonata No.3 in B-minor.

Encores

Chopin Etude Op. 10 No.8
Mozart Sonata in C major K545: II. Andante
Chopin Etude Op. 10, No. 12

Esplanade Concert Hall
19 January 2011, 7:30pm

by Derek Lim

For many, tonight’s concert, quite aside from its musical value, held interest on another front – that one of Singapore’s sons, Melvyn Tan, was returning to give a recital after a hiatus of more than thirty years. The controversy over his self-imposed exile, less polarizing, in fact, than the circumstances surrounding his subsequent return, have seen enough words spilled over the matter. I will write no more on this.

The sheer number of well-known personalities in the audience, political and otherwise, would have alerted the naive concert-goer to the eventful nature of this recital. A sense of anticipation was in the air – would he be up to expectations?

Certainly there wasn’t anything particularly ground-breaking about his choice of program, other than its studious avoidance of anything that he was ‘expected’ to perform – his Classical repertoire – given his pioneering efforts in the field of the fortepiano. Rather an evening of ‘fantasy’ pieces, starting with Schumann’s Op. 12 Fantaisie-stuecke, was the order of the day, followed by Debussy’s Images Book I, and after the interval, Chopin’s third Sonata and the Polonaise-Fantaisie.

Tan’s view of the eight pieces that make up the Schumann was rather idiosyncratic, starting off with a more lugubrious Des Abends than I would have cared for. His approach seemed to bring out the quirkiness in each piece rather than to find similarity and make the suite apiece – the Florestan and the Eusebius aspects of the music – that made the performance seem more symphonic in scope. Tempi tended toward the brisk in the faster pieces, rather breakneck in some, beginning with a passionate, almost vehement attack at Aufschwung, with plenty of virtuoso display. Among one of the more successful of his interpretations was the famous Traumeswirren, where he produced a pellucid, almost transparent, tone in that recurring theme.

Personal though his Schumann was, it was put in the shade by his Debussy. A word here – he studied with one of Debussy’s students, who taught him how the composer might have wanted his music performed. In that most impressionist piece, Reflets dans l’eau, his performance was simply breathtakingly beautiful, which was not to say that it was taken slowly, in fact, tempi were fleet, with a different sound produced from the piano, something a little glassier, a little lighter, more brittle, than in the Schumann. It was a straightforward performance which didn’t shy away from rubato when he felt it was indicated, and refreshingly unfussy. Still, he accomplished a richness and fullness in the chordal material that projected well into the concert hall. Hommage a Rameau, while again on the slow side, was eloquent with very careful use of the sustain pedal; Mouvement displayed tremendous energy that never flagged.

Staying in Paris, we were treated to a second half of pure Chopin. His Polonaise-Fantaisie isn’t one of my favourite pieces; it takes a very special pianist to make it work for me, and I wasn’t convinced by this. His open attack at the piece was, for me, slightly at odds with the more pensive nature of the work, and his fleet tempo as a whole took away a little from that more introspective Chopin that I prefer. Rather, he emphasized more the Polonaise than the Fantaisie element, the rhythms of that nationalistic dance brought to the fore. He didn’t settle into the piece, for me, and I felt that it remained rather on the surface, with even the climactic coda robbed of its triumph as a result.

His Third Sonata was similarly treated to a quick tempo in the opening movement, more an Allegro con fuoco than a Allegro maestoso, with little relaxation until the the second subject’s lyrical theme. Played rather straight again, it was rather low on subtlety and contrast within the movement, though palpably, and constantly high on energy. In the constant aggressiveness of the playing, it tired the ear and I wished there was more variety in the performance as a whole. What it did show was that his technique was not at all wanting and seemed to challenge those who might have thought of him as ‘simply’ a Beethoven and Mozart specialist, a label he has cheerfully shrugged off.

When I spoke with Melvyn Tan for Time Out back in November last year, he came across as someone very private, unwilling to reveal much about himself. As a pianist, he is another persona completely. While at times restrained and not moving very much, engages in a degree of swooning, crouching and posturing at the piano that, were they not so musical, might have distracted from the performance and might even be described as Lang Lang-esque (which is not a compliment, by the way).

Sometimes he would look away from the audience (as many others have similarly done), often his left foot would be in mid-air engaged in some Gouldian dance, others, as his right hand played a melody or a figure, his left hand would grip the lower end of the keyboard between the fingers and the thumb, a strange movement I’ve never seen any other pianist do.

On completion of a work he would swing languidly with his outstretched hands from the left side of the piano to the right to face the audience, his body strangely boneless in that gesture. Often he was crouched (in a posture any piano teacher would be horrified to see their students adopt) over the piano in order to create a certain sound. Between pieces he would beam at the audience in  unadulterated pleasure, in a oddly childlike gesture not unlike a school kid pleased that we had all come to see him and actually liked it.

The three encores were well-chosen – the first, Chopin’s Etude Op. 10 No.8 , clearly chosen to show off his suppleness despite the rigours of the entire concert, which he displayed in his right hand but in doing so didn’t voice the left hand very clearly. The second was the second movement of Mozart’s Sonata ‘Semplice’ – raptly played, and beautifully so, even Romantic in its phrasing and use of rubato. Melvyn Tan prefaced this by saying that the last time he played this was in the Victoria Theatre, when he was about 12.

The third, Chopin’s ‘Revolutionary Etude’ was aptly chosen to end the evening on the high note; despite his right hand octaves, which didn’t sound twice, it did the job and more than half the hall rose to give their ovations. An ironic ‘nationalistic’ choice of piece to end a long-awaited home-coming in the face of objections not yet entirely quelled? Whatever it was, the audience made it clear that Melvyn Tan would be welcome back, any time.