Old as Mozart and Still Performing

The Kirkman harpsichord had an airing in a lunchtime concert on July 6th. This valuable eighteenth-century instrument is owned by the Music Department and during the 1960s was heard frequently in concerts. A few years of enforced idleness have now ended as the harpsichord has been carefully restored by a visiting English harpsichord specialist with co-operation from Peter Mirams of Wellington. Restoration work involved repair of parts damaged by general wear and tear as well as correction of some misguided alterations made in England some years ago.

The concert began with a work by French Baroque composer, Andre Campre. Roy Tankersley played the harpsichord with Geoffrey Coker (counter tenor) and Robert Oliver (harpsichord) completing the ensemble. Admirably balanced to compliment and enhance the individual sonorities, the whole was rich in texture with an overall freshness.

Other items in this programme of music by French composers were (somewhat predictably) by Debussy and Ravel, played however with the special sensitivity necessary for the French style. Rosemary Quinn and Christine Archer played Debussy's Six Epigraphes Antiques for piano duet, and Marion Olsen (mezzo soprano) and Margaret Nielsen (piano) played Cinq Melodies Populaires Grecques by Ravel.

Australian Contemporary Music

A solo recital given by Australian pianist David Lockett on July 11th provided a welcome opportunity to hear some contemporary music for piano. A staff member of Murrary Park College in Adelaide, Lockett played works by Haydn, Liszt and two contemporary Australians, Richard Meale and Larry Sitsky. Meale's Corruscations was first performed by Roger Woodward who so astounded NZ audiences two years ago by his avant garde material. Composed in 1971, the work now seems hardly avant garde, though still tremendously exciting with its brilliant splashes of percussive light and shade.

In contrast, Sitsky's Fantasia in memory of Egon Petri, is a powerfully introspective work, again however, full of contrasting material, sombre chords constantly interrupting the fantasia. Overall form was highly structured while performances generally were characterised by sound technique, warmth and intimacy of style:

Quartetto Beethoven di Roma — Delayed Action

When distinguished overseas artists mount the platform of the Wellington Town Hall, the hush which precedes the opening bars has a quality of expectancy almost visible. And the initial impact of such professionals is immediate. The audience responds with a metaphorical sigh of appreciation, puts its feet up and settles down to enjoy the music.

The first piano quartet on the programme (Piano Quartet no 3 in C) was particularly interesting, first because it was written in 1785 when Beethoven was only 15, and secondly in being among the earliest examples of music written for this medium. The true stamp of Beethoven is surely there in rich melody and harmonies, the variety and inventiveness. The performers were clearly masterly in their technique, but where was the sparkle? Occasional, all too brief flashes of brilliance so tantalising, but worrying.

Only one item followed the interval, Faure's Piano Quartet no I in C minor op 15 — a bit of an unknown quantity. The audience was restless. Suddenly, the Town Hall came alive. Glorious, seemingly endless melody unfolded and delighted with its contrapuntal complexity and subtle harmonies. I could hear the viola perfectly. The work showed precisely that elusive quality of grace and charm which is supposed to epitomize French music at its best, exciting from the pizzicato of the Scherzo to the poignant Adagio.

Applause was ecstatic and the performers, instead of looking as they had earlier as if they'd like to go home and watch TV, seemed pleased with themselves and sat down and played a Brahms Scherzo as an encore, with great gusto. Thank goodness for Faure.

Again in the Mozart Piano Quartet in F minor, op. 2 which followed came the same disquiet. Also written in 1785, one of his only two piano quartets, the Mozart work was clearly that of a master in his prime. The ease and grace of melody and form, the serenity, but with always the feeling of deep power and uncompromising integrity. Yet why was this quality not fully transmitted? Was it the acoustics, I wondered, barely able to hear the viola, usually given such rich parts by Mozart, the violist. I didn't blame a man nearby who went to sleep.

Julia Millen