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CHORAL REVIEW
Grand, Unique and Complete October 24, 2001
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By Eric Valliere
It is easy to forget the impact that sound design — careful programming based on a coherent sonic conception — can have on a listener's perception of a concert. It was impossible not to notice the skillful shaping of the Academic Chamber Choir of Uppsala's program at their concert last Wednesday in UC Berkeley's Hertz Hall. Conductor Stefan Parkman, whose style is charismatic and meticulous, expected the most from the audience and gave his best in return.
This was an impressive performance by any standards, but the choir's status as a community choir (just one of hundreds in the Uppsala area alone) further enhances their achievement. That their repertoire emphasizes contemporary composers, those from Sweden in particular, makes them something of a national treasure (and an example more US choirs should follow). They have been spreading their message during the rest of their west coast tour, which began in Seattle and concluded Sunday in San Francisco's St. Ignatius Church. While not perfect in every detail, the effect of the evening as a whole was of something grand, unique and complete.
The opening piece (unlisted in the program) had me on the edge of my seat. It started suddenly and leapt from the stage, energizing the entire hall. Crisp diction, subtle phrasing and perfect balance were evident from the start, creating expectations for more of the same. Parkman delivered eventually, but only after bringing us back down with two flat pieces. The first was Per Nørgård's (b. 1932) Singe die Gärten, mein Herz, die du nicht kennst (“Sing the garden, my heart, which you know not”), which started with a glassy piano introduction but soon suffered from indistinct entrances and high notes that were under pitch. (It is rare to find a choir whose strongest sections are the altos and tenors, but here is one for sure.) This was a difficult piece, with dense clusters fanning out to clearer textures; it was also rather shapeless. Soloist Anna Engström, quoting Schubert's Du bist die Ruh, was placed first near the first row of seats, then inexplicably moved near the stage right exit. Next followed a tepid performance of a questionable medley-style conjunction of Purcell's Hear My Prayer, O Lord with Sven David Sandström's (b. 1942) limp “response” to it. Their performance of J.S. Bach's motet, Singet dem Herrn ein neues Lied, was crystal clear but somewhat labored; it needed more joyfulness. The Chorale reintroduced the choir's impeccable balance and intonation, paired with the necessary pious innocence. Parkman came to life in the Hallelujah, playing with Bach's array of rhythmic games in the final fugue to electrifying effect. Here was the joy I'd been waiting for.
Pianist Mårten Landström took the stage to play the Op. 15 Fantasy of Hovhaness, a solo that alternated percussive passages and liquid arpeggios on a modal theme. This was excellent preparation for Ingvar Lidholm's (b. 1921) …a riveder le stelle, set to a passage from Dante's Divine Comedy. Chilling, dissonant groans sounded — a series of clustered glissandi — as the “inferno” was left behind; the harmonies opened back up as the stars were glimpsed through an opening in the earth. A lengthy coda featuring wordless soprano Karolina Andersson was a meditation, a prayer, and a thanksgiving, despite some shaky finishes. The second half was dominated by what, in a different context, might be considered fluff: a series of late romantic evocations of landscapes, seasons and flowers. But after the challenging repertoire of the first portion they sounded fresh. Gunnar Hahn's wonderful Rondo Lapponico depicted the Finnish winter in a style reminiscent of “Carol of the Bells” but managed to stay on this side of kitsch. Wilhelm Stenhammar's Vårnatt lacked architecture but contained moments of inspired chromatic harmony. David Wikander's lovely Kung Liljekonvalje, about a boy picking flowers for his girlfriend's hair, was charming and performed flawlessly by the choir.
After another piano interlude by Landström, Parkman offered us new textures in inventive pieces by Swedish music critic/composer Wilhelm Peterson-Berger, which featured hand claps and percussive breathing. This was more preparation for the closing work, Rondes (1967) by Folke Rabe. A small, staged drama, this piece questions the very nature of “serious music.” Isolated groups fragment and come together, assuming postures and attitudes while barking, hissing, or gobbling like turkeys. One member of the choir throws his hands up and storms off stage in disgust, while the conductor rushes like a cattle-dog from group to group trying to get them in line. The piece crescendos to close with a series of dissonant chords defiantly yelled. By opening with the most challenging pieces, Parkman was assured of an openness of mind and ear from his listeners and vocal health for his singers. The piano interludes served as choir breaks, but as breaks for the audience as well. Even the most balanced and beautiful a cappella singing becomes monotonous after two hours. Last night, however, the audience was eager to stay for two encores, both Scandinavian folk songs and both performed with the grace we'd already learned to expect. (Eric Valliere earned his doctorate in composition from New England Conservatory in Boston, where he has also served on the musicology faculty. He currently serves as Executive Director of the San Francisco Chamber Singers and administers the Noe Valley Chamber Music Series. His critical writings have appeared in New Music Connoisseur and on Andante.com.) ©2001 Eric Valliere, all rights reserved |