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EARLY MUSIC REVIEW
May 12 & 14, 2004
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By Rebekah Ahrendt
Virtuoso violist da gamba Jordi Savall made a rare dual Bay Area appearance last week. In a solo recital on Wednesday, May 12, and with his ensemble Hespèrion XXI on Friday, May 14, Savall gave audiences at Berkeley's First Congregational Church a whirlwind tour through the history and future of a very special family of instruments. And a family affair it was the latter-day incarnation of his early-music group Hespèrion XXI. On this tour, it comprised Savall's wife Montserrat Figueras and their children Arianna and Ferran, as well as Pedro Estevan, the percussionist who has been part of the Savalls' musical family for a quarter of a century. The Savalls, so much a part of the history and development of the Early Music movement, demonstrated what this movement's future may well look like, a future that is not “early” at all.
Friday night's concert in particular was a highly eclectic mix of old and new. The program began with a set of very old music, mostly laments, from ancient Hesperia and the Sephardic diaspora. One piece that was particularly memorable was a lovely lament of the Virgin called “Ay, trista vida corporal!” (Oh, sad mortal life), sung from the church's balcony by Montserrat Figueras, accompanied in the balcony by Arianna Savall on medieval harp and on the stage by Jordi Savall. Figueras' ethereal voice poured out over the audience in a shower of silvery notes, accented by the scintillating drops of the heavenly harp. The terrestrial voice of the tenor viol provided a great contrast to the angels in the balcony, reminding the listener that this was, after all, a lament on mortality. Yet not all the pieces of this first set were from Western Europe, as Savall later told the audience. One was in fact an arrangement of a classical melody from Afghanistan, which friends of the family had taught them.
This was not the only dish of “world music” on Hespèrion XXI's plate. Remembering that the true skill of a musician in the past was the ability to improvise, the group showed off the wide variety of their improvisatory skills. Jordi Savall, enjoying the complete command of whichever viol he picked up (there were four different viols in play), thrilled the audience with his devilish diminutions and divisions on classic dance tunes, as well as the fastest rendition of Diego Ortiz' “Passamezzo moderno” that I've ever heard. Pedro Estevan's outstanding skills as a percussionist added spirit and spice wherever he played. In one particular number, I was sure that Estevan's extended percussion solo would elicit jazz-style applause from the audience, but alas, they probably still thought they were at an “Early Music” concert.
The younger Savalls demonstrated their firm footing in the here and now with a few of their own improvisatory compositions. Arianna Savall sang two of her latest songs, accompanying herself on the double harp. Her light, clear voice, so different from her mother's, beautifully expressed the texts, taken from a contemporary Spanish poet and from the Song of Songs. In these compositions, Arianna truly came into her own, showing what an accomplished and diverse musician she has become (and causing me to wonder if her real joy is not in contemporary folk music). Ferran Savall showed off his chops as a jazz singer and instrumentalist (though playing the lute) in a set of improvisations. The sheer diversity of talent in this musical family was magnificent. Savall played his entire solo program Wednesday night on his amazing 1697 Barak Norman seven-string viol, presumably to the chagrin of any hardcore authenticity snobs who might have been in the audience. Though the first half of the program was more or less suited to the seven-string, the second half, consisting of pieces for viol played “lyra-way,” should theoretically have been played on an instrument with six strings. A style especially popular in England, “lyra-way” refers to playing the viol in a chordal style most likely adapted from 16th-century Italian lirone players, and often requires that the instrument be set in an alternate tuning. Great gasps were heard from the audience when Savall set the “Bag-Pipes Tuning,” which requires the crossing of the fourth and fifth strings, a feat that resulted in a rather nasty sounding crunch.
But not to worry Savall knew exactly what he was doing. He rediscovered this particular tuning himself, since the source gives no indication of how the instrument should be tuned. The crossed strings create the possibility of a low drone string, thus imitating the sound of bagpipes. Allowing his instrument to settle into the new tunings gave Savall plenty of time to chat with the audience about the pieces. He told us that some of his inspiration in playing pieces like “The Lancashire Pipes” (from an anonymous manuscript source of lyra-viol music) comes from the techniques for folk instruments like the Norwegian Hardanger fidel and the Irish fiddle. An extended lyra set by 17th-century English composer Tobias Hume demonstrated exactly why John Dowland was so worried about the up-and-coming viol. In the preface to his 1612 collection “A Pilgrimes Solace,” Dowland rather vehemently decried upstart viol players like Hume who dared to challenge the lute's primacy as the instrument for polyphony. As played by Savall, Hume's music shows off exactly what the viol can do, both technically and expressively. The music calls for both plucking and bowing, as well as hitting the strings with the wood of the bow, a technique first mentioned by Hume in 1605, but not really popularized until the 20th century, when composers were convinced they had invented something new. Particularly enjoyable was a piece called “A Souldier's Resolution,” in which Hume asks the performer to imitate the various sounds heard on the battlefield. From the trumpets to the kettledrums, the march to the retreat, Savall showed the viol in all its military glory.
human playing The first half of Wednesday's program featured a number of pieces made famous by Savall on the soundtrack for the French film Tous les matins du monde (All the Mornings of the World). Savall's solo version of mysterious 17th-century French composer Monsieur de Sainte-Colombe's “Les Pleurs” (Tears) proved that the expressive qualities of the viol are limitless. One of the most moving pieces written for the viol, Marin Marais' “Les voix humaines” (Human Voices), sang out on both the Wednesday and Friday concerts. Whether grumbling like an aged man or giggling like a young girl, this piece, sung by the instrument closest to the human voice, is a tribute to the voices of humanity. The occasional finger-slippages were almost welcome, proving the humanity of Master Savall. Indeed, humanity is the foundation for the utterance that resonated throughout both these concerts. From the esoteric past of the viol to the vividly contemporary improvisations, the Savalls demonstrated the very humanity of all music, and how fragile that humanity is. I came away from these concerts feeling that I had heard the future. The overwhelming talents of the Savall-Figueras family (with adopted member Estevan) and their complete mastery of their instruments proved once and for all (to me at least) that we no longer need the label “Early Music.” This was music, pure and simple, music for all times and places, music for humanity. The last encore Friday night really brought that home. The song told the story of a young girl (Arianna Savall) who asks her mother for a new doll. Her mother in both story and real life, Montserrat Figueras, replies that all she has to give is her song. If that song is all Hespèrion XXI has to give, it is more than enough.
(Rebekah Ahrendt holds the Artist's Diploma in viola da gamba and historical performance practice from the Royal Conservatory of The Hague (NL). Currently, she is a graduate student in historical musicology at the University of California, Berkeley.)
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Jordi Savall