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CHORAL MUSIC REVIEW
March 31, 2003
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By Benjamin Frandzel
When a composer as imaginative as György Ligeti
appears on the scene, it's helpful to be given a
context for understanding his music. Ligeti, who
turns 80 this year, has been unusual among the leaders
of the postwar avant-garde, in that he is less allied
with a mathematical or philosophical system than with
a sheer love of aural beauty. Further, he has changed his
style often in seeking new methods of expression. In
presenting this great composer's music alongside that
of his influences, colleagues and students last Monday
at the Shrine of St. Francis of Assisi, the San
Francisco Chamber Singers did their audience a
valuable service. Not only did they create a setting
for Ligeti's achievements, but they also presented
some little-known and often marvelous music from
around the world.
The program's centerpiece was 1967's Lux Aeterna, one
of Ligeti's signature works. The Singers handled this
difficult piece with a clear sense of its purpose, and
successfully evoked a soul's passage from this world
into a completely unknown plane. This music is so
unusual, with long tones, bitingly close
intervals, tightly sequenced canons, and extended
sense of time, that it often
stops sounding like voices at all and seems to enter
a realm of pure musical and spiritual existence. The
Singers achieved this effect with a
dedicated, controlled reading.
A little more drama from the ensemble and director Robert Geary was wanted for a few major entrances and they took a relatively restrained
approach at those moments. More important, the choir honored
both the letter and the deeper meaning of this work.
Ligeti has de-emphasized his Hungarian roots since
emigrating in 1956, leaving an image of him
as simply an international figure. The Chamber
Singers' program did much to alter that impression,
with music by his Hungarian predecessors and one great
contemporary, along with his own settings of Hungarian
poetry.
Bartók's Bánat for women's voices proved to be a little gem, with gorgeous melody and modal surprises. Kodály's more substantial Öregek (The Old Ones), with a text by the modern Hungarian poet Sándor Weöres, received nice shaping and a soulful performance suiting its melancholy language. Given the work's length, Geary and the Singers could have gone to greater extremes at its more dramatic points, particularly with the more tangy harmonies that appeared at climactic moments. Weöres' poetry also provided the text for two brief but outstanding works by Ligeti from his early years in Hungary. Éjsaka, an epigrammatic nocturnal text, was performed beautifully, with ethereal layered harmonies growing organically and ringing through the church. Reggel, an evocation of early morning, received a suitably energetic performance, with impressive clarity in the rapidly repeated text near the end. There were even some convincingly raucous rooster calls. Though his recognition outside of Hungary came decades after Ligeti's, György Kurtág has joined his old friend as an eminent living composer. Two of his choral works revealed different stages in his evolution. Klárisok, from 1949, was written a decade before Kurtág's mature style emerged, and is squarely in the modal, folk-inspired style of Bartók and Kodály. Kurtág's high level of craft is still evident here, if not his distinctive voice, and the choir gave a well-honed performance. Már csak azt a jövo idot kivánom featured a text by Deszo Tandori, a Hungarian modernist poet whom the composer has set in other works. This had Kurtág's more familiar sound, with rapid shifts between consonance and dissonance, varied textures, and many ideas packed into a brief time frame. The ensemble provided the precision and intensity this music requires. In all the Hungarian selections, the Chamber Singers did a commendable job handling the difficult pronunciation and accents, and their care with the language heightened the level of the performance.
Honoring Ligeti's many years as a teacher, the program featured works by two of his students who became major composers. In an homage to the maestro, Puerto Rican composer Roberto Sierra created his own setting of Lux Aeterna, with many of his teacher's techniques. Sierra borrows Ligeti's tempo and use of canon, though in a more audible approach with less-dense vocal lines. Sierra's harmonies are often beautiful and his counterpoint, excellent; the Singers sounded strong and confident in this well-prepared performance. Ligeti's transporting masterwork is too hard an act to follow, though, and the Sierra would shine more on a different program. To finish the evening, the Chamber Singers performed Sweet Spring, a three-movement work by another Ligeti student, Swedish composer Arne Mellnäs, who died last year at age 69. The choir really filled the hall and achieved their sweetest blend in this work, a setting of three poems in English on the subject of spring. This is first-rate choral writing all around, with lovely harmonies, inventive effects and a convincing evocation of the texts. Especially delightful was “O, the sun,” by e.e. cummings, in which the complex layering and variety of colors and attacks mirrored cummings' cubist approach to language. The choir opened the program with a favorite work of Ligeti's, Gesualdo's madrigal “Beltá, poi che t'assenti.” It's easy to see why Ligeti would be drawn to Gesualdo, a great original of the Renaissance. This work has plenty of lyrical melodic writing, as well as the harmonic surprises and chromaticism that make this composer stand out from his contemporaries. The Singers delivered a nice enough performance, but didn't summon the drama and fullness they produced later in the evening.
(Benjamin Frandzel is a Bay Area musician and writer. In addition to
writing concert music, he has collaborated with dance, theater, and visual artists, and has written about music for many publications and musical organizations. He is currently a graduate student in composition at San Francisco State University.)
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Györgi Ligeti