SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

 

I have an instinctive mistrust of “performing competitions”. Every time some young lion rides into town on the back of a competition win, I suffer a worrisome whiff of “over-hype”. But, regardless of any reservations I might have regarding the way they work, I can’t deny that these competitions are astonishingly effective career-boosters. As if to prove the point, when Whangarei Music Society said the magic words, “Winner of the 2009 Michael Hill Violin Competition”, there was a metaphorical bright purple flash, and a pile of “Sold Out” notices materialised from an equally metaphorical puff of smoke.

 

Happily, this time my mistrust was completely groundless. For, although still studying (under Itzhak Perlman), the 23-year-old Czech violinist, Josef Špaček, already has a formidable C.V., a substantial cake on which the Hill Competition win is but the icing. What’s more, his touring partner is none other than Michael Houstoun, and I couldn’t imagine the doyen of Aotearoa’s pianists saddling himself with any fly-by-night whiz-kid, even if he had been involved throughout the said competition (which, of course, he had been).

 

To my delight, although a generation apart, Špaček and Houstoun blended like brothers, sounding as though they’d been an item for donkeys’ years. Both were of modest demeanour, and both spurned the extravagant gestures I’ve come to regard, rightly or wrongly, as the hallmark of shallow virtuosity. Indeed, in his manner Houstoun bore an uncanny resemblance to Arthur Rubinstein who, as I recall from the one memorable occasion I saw him in the flesh, moved nary a muscle that didn’t directly contribute to the end-product.

 

Likewise Špaček, although by no means devoid of facial and bodily expression, clearly felt no compulsion to act as though wracked with the agony of unbearably intense artistic creativity. Any subliminally lingering doubts I might have had were soon swept aside by a stream of sublime music-making – this was a real “night to remember”.

 

Admittedly, Špaček did play two virtuoso warhorses of the sort that often “grace” demo. CDs. However, he evidently intended “the” Chaconne (from Bach’s Partita No. 2, BWV 1004) and Ysaÿe’s Sonata, op. 27 no. 3 not as opportunities to show off, but as object lessons – instead of milking them for every last drop of virtuoso potential, Špaček milked them for every last drop of music. The Bach was especially captivating; Špaček relieved it of the overcooked “monumental” quality that seems fashionable these days, instead bringing to the grave theme a translucency that neatly complemented the more athletic variations.

 

Specially-composed competition test pieces are, by definition, designed to be technically challenging. Such pieces are also often taken on tour by the competition winner whereas, generally speaking, they’d be better left behind. Kiwi composer Gareth Farr wrote a test piece to put the 2009 Michael Hill competition’s 18 semi-finalists through their paces.

 

This happened in Queenstown, which sits on the shore of the lake, Wakatipu, that gave the work its title. I must admit that I sensed little of the Maori legend that inspired the music, but was mightily pleased that this particular test piece – a compact, immaculately-executed and wholly entertaining exploration of the violin’s capabilities – was an exception to the general rule.

 

The real meat of the programme came courtesy of Mozart’s Sonata in A, K305 and Prokofiev’s Sonata No. 1, op. 80. You’d be hard-pressed to find two more contrasted works. The Mozart veers between playful and poised, with the accent mostly on “playful”. Houstoun’s crystalline articulation formed the perfect foil for Špaček’s filigree fiddling. At play, the pair of them were as cute as a barrel of monkeys.

 

Prokofiev’s sonata, on the other hand, is a grim work, lurching between extremes of pitch-black gloom and toe-curlingly vicious vivacity. The former was chillingly conveyed, primarily by Houstoun’s baleful balancing of the bass, whilst the latter sprang from the splenetic sparks struck by Špaček’s hacking bow. Impressive, yes, but still more impressive was their treatment of the unfortunate counter-subject, one of Prokofiev’s incomparably exquisite lyrics, which came across as drifting in a daze, buffeted by that ominously eruptive ocean.

 

The Czech Nationalists composers’ integration of their country’s astonishingly vital folk-culture with classical forms is one of the seven wonders of the musical world. If so – and even if not! – I think it’s fair to say that any Czech musician worth his salt would choose to finish on some tasty “home cooking”. Špaček, clearly worth his salt, chose Smetana’s From My Homeland, and regaled us with a heartfelt, spirited, and of course thoroughly idiomatic reading of this undemanding but joyful music.

 

The audience loved it all, and expressed their gratitude with a storm of clapping, cheering, stamping and whistling. Significantly, for an encore Špaček forewent a typical final virtuosic assault in favour of a wistful farewell, a gesture that recalled Beecham’s famous “lollipops”. Thus it was that the enraptured audience dispersed into the chill night, warmed by the glow of Schumann’s tender Abendlied.

 

Paul Serotsky

 

Links:

 

Michael Hill Violin Competition

Josef Špaček

Michael Houstoun