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SEEN
AND HEARD CONCERT REVIEW
Mark Berry
Luigi Nono: Fragments of Venice:
(Opening concert) London
Sinfonietta / Diego Masson
(conductor) Queen Elizabeth Hall, 1.
10.2007 (MB)
Nono -
Incontri
Schoenberg -
Chamber Symphony no.1, Op.9
Nono -
Variazioni
canoniche
sulla
serie
dell' op.41 di
Arnold
Schoenberg
Nono -
'No hay
caminos
hay que
caminar
... Andrej
Tarkowskij'
How wonderful for the South Bank
Centre to be celebrating Luigi
Nono! It is about time someone did, the only other major
retrospective of his work in this country of which I am aware having
been at Huddersfield in 1995. This series will reach its climax next
May with the British premiere of
Prometeo, his 'tragedy of listening'. For this concert, we
were treated to three varied works, plus a masterpiece from his
posthumous father-in-law, Arnold Schoenberg. Proceedings had
commenced even before the concert, with a conversation between
Christopher Cook and Nuria
Schoenberg-Nono, the
composer's widow (and Schoenberg's daughter). She provided an
informative and at time moving insight into her late husband's
beliefs and methods, not least his instruction from Bruno
Maderna, who had encouraged
him to compare responses compositional problems in composers old and
new, for instance Gabrieli
and Webern, Ockeghem and
Schoenberg. Hermann Scherchen
also emerged as a hero of the tale. We also heard a most sympathetic
account of the heady days of 1950s
Darmstadt,
not as some quasi-totalitarian Ministry of
Serialist Truth but as a
place of openness, experimentation, and - perhaps most interestingly
- as a meeting-place for those who had survived the horrors of
fascism with the post-war avant
garde. Tradition and its
development played a much greater role than myths of a 'year zero'
have allowed.
The concert began with a few words from the pianist John Constable
concerning the recently deceased London
Sinfonietta flautist,
Sebastian Bell, to whom the concert was dedicated.
Berio's brief
Autre
fois, composed
for flute, harp, and clarinet, in memory of Stravinsky, was
performed - most beautifully - in Bell's honour.
We then proceeded to the 'encounters' of
Nono's 1955
Incontri, for twenty-four
instruments. The two independent structures of which
Nono wrote, emerged
independently of one another, through differentiation of rhythm,
melody, harmony, and timbre. And yet they came together too, unable
to escape each other, and producing something more through their
encounters. Post-Webernian
lines and combinations, and extreme dynamic contrasts were well
judged by Diego Masson and
his expert players, both in terms of individual clarity and a whole
that was more than the sum of its parts. This is partly a matter of
mathematics - what music is not? - in terms of the ratios between
the two structures, but also of development, of sympathy, of a
refusal to repeat oneself which
Nono shared with Schoenberg. One felt a true sense of musical
and political unity, of the hope in social solidarity which
Nuria Schoenberg-Nono
had already spoken as a hallmark of
Nono's oeuvre.
Schoenberg's First Chamber Symphony has long been a
Sinfonietta speciality.
This was a performance which evinced long familiarity with a work
that is for these players 'standard repertoire'. The confidence with
which the string soloists projected their lines meant that there was
no chance of one of this work's greatest pitfalls presenting itself,
namely the strings being overshadowed by the piquant wind. (The
opposite pitfall tends to occur in the later, inferior version for
full orchestra.) In its contrapuntal clarity and the propulsion of
its harmonic progression, this was a model performance, expertly
guided by Masson. My taste
often tends to veer towards Schoenberg performances that emphasise a
little more his Romantic inheritance, but the bracing, relentless
modernism of this reading afforded an equally valid perspective and,
given the circumstances, was perhaps more apt. My sole cavil was
that the 'slow movement' did not really emerge as distinctly as it
might. If one thinks of the Liszt Piano Sonata in B minor, whose
form Schoenberg's work so closely resembles, one realises what is
gained by a stronger sense of four distinct movements within the
one-movement sonata form of the whole. The conclusion, however, was
duly thrilling, without ever degenerating into a headlong rush, as
can often be its fate.
The interval afforded an opportunity to observe the progress of work
from Kingston University students on a wall of protest in the foyer,
inspired by the final work on the programme. We too were encouraged
to offer reactions to the music in the guise of postcards for
colouring, which would then be displayed. This certainly contributed
to the buzz of the occasion, to a genuine rather than manufactures
sense of the excitement of an event - which the beginning of this
festival certainly should have been - so different from the often
dreary conventionality of more 'mainstream' concerts.
Nono's greatest homage to
Schoenberg, his
Canonical Variations
on a note row from the
Ode to Napoleon,
received an extremely fine reading. All the virtues of the
Incontri performance were
once again present, as was a definite sense of narrative
progression, of moving towards and then beyond the final variation's
statement of the row. Where 'Darmstadt',
as we somewhat misleadingly and
monolithically have come to call it, has tended to be
portrayed as tolerating Schoenberg mostly for having prepared the
way for Webern, here we heard an avowedly post-Webernian
serialist employing the
Webern inheritance - the sighs of instrumental fragments, the
constructivist tension between certain
intervallic relations - of
earlier variations to build up to a more or less explicit tribute to
one of Schoenberg's most unambiguously 'political' works. The almost
Romantic beauty of the orchestra, albeit never without a necessary
astringency - reminded us of Nuria
Schoenberg-Nono's
conception of
Darmstadt
as a continuation of European tradition. (Failure of many of the
participants thus to root themselves, rather than outright antipathy
towards Cage, was why Nono
had eventually left, she explained.)
'No
hay caminos,
hay que
caminar
... Andrej Tarkovskij'
represented late Nono
(1987). Inspired by a mediaeval
wall inscription from a Toledo monastery - 'Traveller, there is no
pathway, only travelling itself' - this work triumphantly refuted
claims that Nono's later
work lost its political edge. There was still here the humanist
emphasis upon creation and the
utopian hope of a better society, no matter what difficulties
life and this world might present, which had marked
Nono's earliest works. What
was new was the spatial experimentation, a product of practices old
(consider Gabrieli) and new
(think Stockhausen), with additional instrumentalists positioned
around and in between the audience, responding to and furthering the
'main' orchestra on the stage. The slow, still Webern-like beauty of
so much of this work received the fullest contrasts with the sudden
eruptions from beyond. This was an unpredictable procession, for
there are no paths, only travelling. The audience was compelled by
the extremes of expression to listen more closely, and thus the
smallest variations in timbre and pitch registered with the utmost
forcefulness: violent and beguiling, the two attributes gaining in
intensity through collision with one another (rather like the two
structures of
Incontri). This was
tribute indeed to a truly committed performance from
Masson and the London
Sinfonietta. Their belief
in Nono was truly
infectious, in the best sense, and bodes well for the festivities to
come.