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CONTEMPORARY MUSIC REVIEW

A Variant Mixture

November 11, 2005

Nicole Paiement

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By Heuwell Tircuit

Friday's program of the BluePrint chamber group at the San Francisco Conservatory was built around two masterpieces by Anton Webern, the most individual of the Schoenberg-centered New Viennese School of the early 20th Century. Everything else paled by comparison to Webern's two compositions for string quartet, both as music and in performance quality.

The evening opened with the first of Alfred Schnittke's Hymns for Chamber Ensemble (1974), followed by Webern's most famous work, Five Movements for String Quartet, Op. 5, and then the U.S. premiere of Olga Neuwirth's Torsion for unaccompanied bassoon (2004). The first half closed with the fourth of Schnittke's Hymns (1979).

The second half began with another of the Schnittke Hymns, this time the third (1974), followed by Webern's three-movement Quartet, Op. 28 (1938), and Joseph Schwantner's Canticle of the Evening Bells for flute and 12 players (1975). Except for the 22-minute Schwantner composition, it was a program of small or even miniature pieces. (Webern's Op. 22 Quartet for mixed consort — commonly called the Saxophone Quartet — was originally on the program, but was replaced by Op. 28.)

Wide disparity of style

Although both pieces are relatively brief, the aesthetic gap between Webern's Op. 5 and Op. 28 is large. The expressionistic Op. 5 Movements are a study in free dissonance as wide-eyed and violent as anything by his teacher, Arnold Schoenberg. Op. 28 is often described as austere, which it is, but a sense of serenity dominates this 12-tone work at an almost religious level. Gone is the semi-hysteria associated with the Expressionism of Op. 5, as Webern turned increasingly toward the strict contrapuntal concepts of the 15th and 16th centuries.

Webern was, after all, the only one of the Viennese trinity who had an extensive formal education; his doctoral thesis was on the Flemish master, Heinrich Isaac (1450-1517). The paradox of Webern was that, while he was and remains extremely avant-garde, he continued the Austrian Classical-period traditions, but wrote in antique counterpoint. Op. 28, for example, consists of a canonic first movement related to sonata form, a scherzo with trio, and a fugal finale.

That and concentrated brevity were his hallmarks. The Movements require only about 10 minutes playing time, the third of them taking up only about 40 seconds. Op. 28, commissioned by the Elisabeth Sprague Coolidge Foundation, runs a little under nine minutes. What makes these masterpieces so consequential is the integrity of Webern's compact and demanding formations of sound. The audience may be startled by all that's going on, but never bored. This is music demanding the listener's full attention. No room for daydreams.

The high points

The two Webern works were played by different quartets, and both performances were splendid. Movements featured violinists Joseph Meyer and Graeme Jennings, violist Charith Premawardhana, and cellist Adaiha Macadam-Somer. Op. 28 was played by violinists David Southorn and SungHee Park, violist Ken Lin and cellist Nadia Klein. Together they provided the outstanding performances of the concert.

Despite its French-colored sonic patina, Schwantner's Canticle often sounded like a homage to Mahler. It opens, for instance, with ultra-loud thuds on a muted bass drum, like the opening of the finale to Mahler's Tenth Symphony. But the solo flute lines lean on Messiaen, while the chamber ensemble writing offered many hints of Henri Dutilleux' mature compositions. Schwantner, on the other hand, has always had an interest in odd effects. So during the progress of the piece, the bass players have an episode to play on antique cymbals; three of the strings bow vibraphone bars; there are tuned wine glasses to be rubbed into vibration; etc. Those effects were subtly handled, so that they were never disruptive.

Yet the lasting impression lay in the virtuosity, musicality, and beauty of sound produced by flutist Katrina Walter. She gave a stylish, first rate performance, from any viewpoint, while the ensemble were a tad ragged and rough-edged much of the time under conductor Nicole Paiement. But for some reason, Walter's name failed to appear on the program listing. Surely, soloists deserve better, especially when they are this good.

More surface than substance

Neuwirth's solo bassoon piece is really a “happening.” Soloist Jonathan Stehney had to stroll in playing soft, sustained sounds, then move to various music stands placed about the stage while walking through a series of fake doorways. The problem was that, aside from a handful of instrumental performance gimmicks, Torsion failed as more than practice-room etudes — all icing and no cake. It all amounted to little more than a weak rehash of the less cogent ideas of the 1960s.

Schnittke has a considerable international following, but I cannot tell you why. Perhaps it's my innate aversion to shallowness, but I can't hear much of merit in his music. The only thing of possible interest might be the colors amid odd chamber combinations employed for each of the Hymns. The first is scored for cello, harp, and timpani; the third and fourth, for differing large mixed groupings. Performances were good, but not more than that. Color Schnittke's Hymns bland, as bland as the average score for a TV documentary.

In justice, I should added that the audience cheered them. I can't understand that either.

(Heuwell Tircuit, composer, performer and writer, was chief writer for Gramophone Japan and for 21 years a music reviewer for the SF Chronicle, previously for the Chicago American and Asahi Evening News.)

©2005 Heuwell Tircuit, all rights reserved