Showing posts with label Messiaen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Messiaen. Show all posts

Friday, 28 March 2014

Olivier Latry, Royal Festival Hall Organ, 27 February 2014



Floretz: Prélude from l’Enfant noir, Op. 17
Messiaen: L’ascension – 4 méditations symphoniques
Widor: Organ Symphony No. 5

Olivier Latry, organ
Royal Festival Hall, 27 February 2014

The Southbank Centre is showing off its newly refurbished Festival Hall organ in style with a series of concerts and recitals featuring some big names. Olivier Latry is perhaps the most celebrated organist among those participating in the festival. He is organist of Notre Dame, and an accomplished recitalist with a global following. He is particularly noted for his Messiaen, and the four movements from L’ascension were certainly the highlight of this programme. But he’s a versatile player, and although this was an all-French programme, it was a diverse one too, and showed off a good range of the renovated instrument’s capabilities.
The programme opened with an oddity, the Prelude from l’Enfant Noir by Jean-Louis Floretz, a Parisian organist who died in 2004. The prelude is part of an unfinished suite inspired by a novel by the French-African author Camara Laye. Apparently, Floretz studied ethnomusicology, but the ethnographic dimension of this seemed slightly suspect. A percussive, rhythmically complex accompaniment is presumably meant to represent African drumming. Over this we hear simple pentatonic melodies with more than a passing resemblance to various spirituals. Floretz studied with Messiaen, and like almost every French organ composer of his generation struggled to escape Messiaen’s overbearing influence, even here, where we are supposed to be transported far from Paris. It is a fun piece though, and a good concert opener. It also gave Latry a good opportunity to show off his nimble fingerwork, and the clarity he can draw, even at loud volumes, from appropriate register combinations.
Both the Messiaen and the Widor were performed from memory, quite a feat in itself, and an indication of Latry’s affinity with this music, which he had no trouble conveying, even on what must be an unfamiliar instrument to him. Everything came together in the Messiaen meditations, the precision of Latry’s touch, the appropriateness of his register combinations, and, most significantly of all, the sense of pace and precise timing with which he unfolded these works. In the first movement, long silences separate the individual phrases, and presumably these were included by Messiaen to accommodate the long decay time in a large church. Latry kept the gaps, which here were effectively silent in the dry acoustic of the Festival Hall, but paced the music well to accommodate them. Elsewhere, Messiaen’s textures are spiky and dissonant, but the clarity of Latry’s playing ensures equal clarity here. The last movement requires him to gradually build up the textures by gradually adding in registers, which he did with a canny ear for colour and timbral weight. A highly accomplished performance and one that left us wanting more from this composer.
Sadly, though, there was no more Messiaen on offer. In fact the programming of the second half was a matter of some contention. Latry came on to the stage before he played to explain that he had originally planned to perform Stravinsky’s four-hand piano arrangement of The Rite of Spring with his wife. But apparently the publisher had blocked the plan because they did not want this piano version played on the organ. Latry was clearly very annoyed about this and, rightly I think, described it as a very petty decision. He rubbed it in a bit by telling us that audiences in America, where the publisher in question has no jurisdiction, had enjoyed the Latrys’ version. He was valiant enough not to name the publisher, but I’m going to, it’s Boosey & Hawkes. So what are they up to? Perhaps they fear a deluge of unauthorised reorchestrations – for tuba quartet or whatever. Even so, the decision seemed heavy-handed in this case.
Instead we got Widor’s Fifth Symphony, and after his little tirade it was clear that Latry’s heart really wasn’t in it. The opening movement was scrappy, with Latry’s limbs not co-ordinating as they had previously. Much of the quiet music in the inner movements was uninspired, with pedestrian register choices and little rubato. The Toccata was good though, more nuanced than we usually hear, with Latry finding a spare finger or toe at many crucial points to make subtle but telling register changes. And despite this being a predominantly German organ, by tradition and design, Latry was able to produce some properly Gallic sounds for the Widor, mixing the lighter registers to create subtle and inviting colours and making full use of the swell pedals to shape phrases.
And to finish – an improvisation. Latry announced that the simple theme he was using was one that André Marchal had improvised on in 1954 at the inaugural concert of this instrument. It sounded to me like the theme to Inspector Gadget. The improvisation itself was a tour de force, episodic and with all the expected elements, a scherzo opening, a chorale prelude with the theme in the pedals, a Baroque fugato with four(ish) voices of counterpoint and a toccata ending. Quite a feat, and a proper workout for the organ too.

Thursday, 30 May 2013

Steven Osborne Vingt regards Queen Elizabeth Hall 29 May 13



Messiaen: Vingt regards sur l'enfant-Jésus
Steven Osborne (piano)

Steven Osborne seemed destined to battle the odds with his performance of Vingt Regards this evening. The steely, clear tones of a Steinway D, in the deadening acoustic of the Queen Elizabeth Hall, is hardly the ideal setting for Messiaen’s perfumed devotions. As it turned out, this bright and focussed piano sound proved ideal for Osborne’s reading. Details of texture and harmony are at the heart of his interpretation, and by giving clarity to every chord and every phrase, he was able to demonstrate that there is far more to this music than Catholic mysticism, and that its emotional impact is as much a result of the innovative and finely-wrought piano textures as it is of the theological ideas that inspired it.
In the absence of a resonant acoustic, silences became all the more intense. Audience expectation ran high (no doubt because Osborne’s recording of this work is considered among the finest available) and when he came onto the stage and sat at the keyboard, it seemed that nobody breathed until he played his first chord. And the opening passages set the tone for the performance ahead: quiet and precisely voiced, crystalline and inscrutable. Under other hands, this opening movement can tend towards Impressionism, but Osborne stands further back from the emotion within the music. He lets the varied tone colours shape the phrases, and adds no more rubato than the score demands. This has the paradoxical effect of making the music sound all the more intimate and immediate: Osborne takes himself out of the equation, letting the audience commune directly with the composer. Messiaen himself poses question after question, with his irregular rhythms and unresolving harmonies, and rather than offering his own answers, Osborne leaves the music open for his listeners to decide for themselves. And when major chords and simple cadences appear from within the otherwise complex limited-transposition harmonies, Osborne never dwells on them, suggesting that any resolution they offer is only transient, and that the big questions still remain.
The louder music makes exceptional demands on the performer’s virtuosity. Osborne has the technical facility to deal with everything the Messiaen throws at him. The long crescendos are finely graded, and the climaxes have a volcanic intensity. Sudden dynamic changes are expertly timed to give each new idea a sense of inevitability: there was never any feeling here that either Messiaen or Osborne was simply out to shock.
Osborne’s unromantic reading is fully validated by the quiet movements. The composer’s message is conveyed here through the continual repetition of the elegant ideas, rather than through that elegance itself. These passages are presented with clarity of texture, and with the repetitions suggesting gentle insistence rather than pedantry. The approach works because Osborne also has a mastery of the music’s form and progression, which given the sheer scale of this work is perhaps the most impressive aspect of his reading. Messiaen often writes long, long crescendos and diminuendos over angular repeating figures. Osborne makes the dynamic changes, but also keeps the colour and character of the music constant throughout. And then when it returns, many movements later, it is exactly the same as we last heard it.
The heart of the performance was the penultimate movement, “I sleep but my heart keeps watch”. We hear a short chordal motif, repeated incessantly and interpolated by short scurrying figures at the top of the keyboard, and a tolling bass note at the bottom. An absolute silence separates each of these elements, not as a rhetorical gesture of phrasing, more as an ontological chasm between the unrelated sonic worlds. And the audience maintained that silence too, still held in rapt attention after around two hours of continuous listening. The last movement, “Gaze of the Church of Love”, is similarly diffuse, but much more intense. Here the main middle register idea is an obsessively repeating chord, while the contrasting idea in the upper register has now become bells. Osborne again maintained the high level of concentration, making each chord and chime a significant and poignant event. After the final flourish, a brief downward dive towards an earthy, deadened bass note, Osborne stood to receive the applause. He seemed shattered, hardly able to stand from the emotional exhaustion of the previous two and a quarter hours. Everybody in the audience knew exactly how he felt.