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SEEN
AND HEARD CONCERT REVIEW
Stockhausen:
Marco Blaauw
(trumpet), Karin de Fleyt (piccolo), Nicholas Isherwood (bass),
Royal Northern College of Music Wind Orchestra, Clark Rundell
(conductor). Royal Festival Hall, London, 9.11.2008 (MB)
Stockhausen – Gesang der Jünglinge
Stockhausen – Lucifers Tanz (SAMSTAG from LICHT,
London premiere)
Stockhausen – Michaels-Abschied (DONNERSTAG from
LICHT)
With
this concert, the Southbank Centre’s KLANG festival, curated by
Oliver Knussen, drew to a close. Gesang der Jünglinge is
generally acknowledged to represent a milestone in electronic music.
In the wake of the year-long Messiaen celebrations, I was put in
mind of the correspondence between Stockhausen’s electronic chorus,
founded upon a single treble voice, and Messiaen’s birdsong. That
liturgical sense ever-present in Stockhausen’s œuvre shone through,
as did the alleluias of the refrain ‘Preiset den Herrn’. Another
correspondence I made was with the Leipzig Bach recordings of the
early 1950s from Gunther Ramin and the Thomanerchor, for
Stockhausen’s heterodox Catholicism was always inviting enough to
encompass other traditions. The recording naturally sounds a little
dated nowadays, as had that of
Varèse’s Poème électronique at the Proms. Far more
important, however, was the sense of the Royal Festival Hall being
transformed into a cathedral of sound.
The musicians of the Royal Northern College of Music brought us the
London premiere of Lucifers Tanz (‘Lucifer’s Dance’). It is
of course a pity that we were unable to experience a staged
performance, but this was certainly not a gift-horse to be looked in
the mouth. Having ‘resurrected’ himself following apparent death,
Lucifer’s project here is once again to enslave mankind, on this
occasion through facial gestures, the material of the dance. If
staged, the orchestra would be presented in the shape of a human
face; here, there was of necessity some compromise, but the
musicians were still compelled to move in their seats, as well as to
play, in order to convey some impression of the facial gestures
commanded by Lucifer. We also missed the stilt dancer who would have
represented Lucifer onstage; instead, though, we had the compelling
visible presence of the bass, Nicholas Isherwood, himself.
Magician-like in aspect and in sonorous deep voice, he acted as
guide to and initiator of the sequence of Left-Eyebrow Dance,
Right-Eyebrow Dance, Left-Eye Dance, Right-Eye Dance, Left-Cheek
Dance, Right-Cheek Dance, Wings-of-the-Nose Dance, Upper-Lip Dance,
Tear Dance, Tip-of-the-Tongue Dance, Ribbon Dance, and Chin-Dance.
The straightforward word-setting – one could hardly be more distant
from Nono or indeed from many of Stockhausen’s contemporaries – is
fitted to the liturgical intonation.
As Jerome Kohl explained in his excellent programme notes, the music
‘is scored in the Dionysian “section style” of the big-band jazz’
Stockhausen remembered from his youth. I recalled the echoes of such
style in Henze’s Boulevard Solitude, although here the
influence was more structural than stylistic. The pulsating opening,
which to some extent provided the underpinning for the rest of the
scene, gave a fine sense of the ritualistic, continued in and
heightened by the physical nature of the performances. Although
some, though by no means all, of the music is frankly tonal, it
sounds primæval – this is, after all, a creation myth – and in no
sense suggests compositional exhaustion. Whatever else Stockhausen
may have been, he was no neo-classicist, nor neo-anything-else.
Ably conducted by Clark Rundell, the musicians of the RNCM wind-band
proved superb advocates for Stockhausen’s score, fully at home with
his requirements. The three instrumental soloists, Marco Blauuw
(familiar from
this year’s Stockhausen Prom), Karin de Fleyt, and an unnamed
percussionist (a pity, since he deserved recognition) from the RNCM,
were equally excellent. Blauuw’s alternation between unmated and
muted trumpet, to which certain extended techniques were added, was
as flawless as one would expect, yet nevertheless deserving of
comment. This is a worthy successor to Markus Stockhausen in the
role of Michael. His unsuccessful – dramatically, that is – yet
impressive soliloquy marked an especial highpoint, as did the
splendidly despatched percussive Wing-of-the-Nose Dance, echoing yet
transcending any popular origins. De Fleyt conveyed in her line –
which would have accompanied a solo Totentanz (dance of
death) on stage – memories of Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune,
her piccolo as sinuous and sensuous as I can recall hearing the
instrument.
Following the concert, we were treated outside to a rendition of
Michaels Abschied (Michael’s Farewell), from RNCM trumpeters.
Standing on the Festival Terrace, surrounded by the sights and
sounds of contemporary London, I was given to an
uncharacteristically Cageian thought. The experience of hearing here
Stockhausen’s music for the audience departing the theatre had the
almost paradoxical consequence of making me truly listen to the
sounds of the city and how they too might constitute musical sounds
and progressions. The trumpet calls, once again excellently
despatched, also recalled to me the brass leitmotif calls from
Bayreuth, ushering the audience back into the Festspielhaus as
intervals come to a close. What we really need, of course, is for
LICHT to be fully staged. And where could be more appropriate
than Bayreuth, out of season? If the new regime wishes to be serious
about expanding its remit whilst remaining loyal to the spirit of
Wagner’s principles, this would be a perfect statement of intent –
and far more than that. Like Stockhausen, we can dream...
Mark Berry