18 October 2009

Monday, 19 October 2009

Autumn weather has come to Shanghai (at last)!

Daytime high temperatures have moderated, humidity is back to reasonable levels, and while it's still quite warm when you're in the sun, when you're not, there is even a bit of crispness in the air, especially in the mornings and evenings. It's what I like to call "sweater weather." But some locals have warned us that this is temporary. As one person put it: we're now in "the one good weather month of the year." Hmm.



The Anton Kuerti concert last Saturday was a wonderful experience musically — and, I'm afraid, an educational one as regards the Shanghai classical music audience.

Kuerti opened his program with quite a handful (especially as, at age 71, he is of a "well seasoned" age):
  • Mozart: C minor Fantasy (K. 475, 1785)
  • Haydn: E-flat Major Sonata (Hob. 52, 1794)
  • Schumann: G minor Sonata (Op. 22, 1833 — 1838)
This was well over a solid hour of difficult music, so any doubts about Kuerti's strength or stamina at 71 are misplaced. For the Schumann, we even got a special treat. The final movement that Schumann originally composed for the sonata was regarded as "impossibly difficult" by his wife Clara. She persuaded him to withdraw it, replacing it with a more conventional rondo finale. Kuerti included both of the final movements in his performance.

Kuerti's playing of the early classical composers is all about texture. His preference is clearly for the softer end of the dynamic spectrum. But he has a powerful command of his pianissimos, and his softest tones always firmly project. The Schumann was especially dramatic. I'll definitely have to study the score to the original last movement, which was completely new to me. It is much more interesting than the replacement.

After working his way forwards chronologically during the first half of his program, he proceeded to reverse course after the interval:
  • Mendelssohn: a tryptych consisting of the Variations Sérieuses (Op. 54, 1841), the Scherzo a Capriccio (written for inclusion in a compilation called the Album des Pianistes, there is no opus number, but the work dates from 1835 — 1836), and the Rondo Capriccioso (Op. 14, 1828 — 1830)
  • Beethoven: A-flat Major Sonata (Op. 110, 1821)
Kuerti brought a magically silvern touch to the leggiero passages of the early Mendelssohn. (The Rondo was written before Mendelssohn was 20.) But there was real pathos in his reading of the Variations, a somewhat dark, counter-to-type work by Mendelssohn that should be played more.

But, for me at least, the high point of the evening came in the final movement of the Beethoven sonata, from the point of the return of the Klagende Lied (Song of Lamentation) theme to the end. This lied passage only lasts about a minute, during which time the performer must convey the most profound emotional desolation (the precise marking: is "ermattet" — "exhausted" — but the rhythm given to the melody, distorted from its first appearance earlier in the movement, suggests a human voice broken with sobbing). Then comes the return of the fugue subject, inverted from its original appearance to fall rather than rise. During the fugue, Beethoven does just about everything possible on the piano of his day to revitalize the emotional state of the music — the soft pedal, used at the beginning, is lifted gradually; the tempo increases bit by bit, then wildly; the contrapuntal details of the fugue are first distorted rhythmically, lose their distinction, and finally pretty much fall away in the gathering rush of notes. The peroration at the conclusion of the movement brings a resounding A-flat Major arpeggiated chord that includes notes from six octaves, and lasts 4 full bars. Kuerti was like a sherpa leading one through all of this, and the finish was positively luminous.

Now the promised word about the Shanghai classical music audience. Perhaps this event was not well marketed. Perhaps other concerts we go to will be better attended, but the orchestra floor was nearly deserted for this one (the balcony was better populated). With a top price of just ¥350 (a bit over $52) I don't think it was money considerations keeping people away. Certainly we have paid higher prices for tickets for other performances at other venues. But there is worse to report. The printed program contained errors both of omission and commission, leaving off the Schumann entirely, and listing the Beethoven work bizarrely as "G Major Sonata, Op. 10" (there are 3 piano sonatas in Op. 10, none of which are in G Major). This was puzzling, since all of the web marketing had the program completely correct. (However, this prompted Kuerti to make some off-the-cuff explanatory comments in English to the audience from the keyboard, which we thoroughly enjoyed.) But there is still worse.... Kuerti had to begin both the Mozart and the Mendelssohn Variations twice. The Mozart, which begins quietly and mysteriously, was sabotaged by the insistent bleeping of a cell phone (despite at least three public announcements — in Chinese and in English — admonishing the audience to silence these daemons). The hiccup with the Mendelssohn came when some of audience were especially noisy in returning tardily to their seats after the interval. We hope this sort of thing won't be the Shanghai norm at classical music concerts.



The Shanghai Concert Hall itself was as ornate as promised. The vaunted acoustics were oversold, but certainly better than average. (Downtown San Diego should have such a nice concert hall, for instance.) But there is an interesting tale to tell about the building. It was built in 1934 as the Nanking Theatre, at least sometimes used for screening motion pictures. Here is a picture of it in 1934. You can just make out that there is a Tarzan movie ("Tarzan and his Mate") on the marquee.



As you can see, the building fronted right on Yan'an Road. I've been unable to confirm it but I believe that when they built the elevated highway above Yan'an Road it would have run right in front of the theater, which had, since 1959, morphed into the Shanghai Concert Hall, Shanghai's most prestigious venue for classical music. So I believe that the city planners were faced with a pressing dilemma in the early part of this decade (this is before Shanghai built the new Shanghai Oriental Art Center in Pudong, which I will report about later — we have two concerts there this week). In what we are gathering is a typical fashion for Shanghai, they decided to opt for a decidedly unconventional solution. Rather than build an entirely new concert hall (which we are told would have been cheaper) they preserved what they had, and simply moved the entire building to a new, more favorable location. It took two years (2002 — 2004) to do the work, which proceeded in three stages. The nearly 6000-ton building was first cut from its old foundations and lifted about 1.7 meters. Then hydraulics were used to move the building 66.4 meters to the south and east. Finally, the building had to be raised another 1.68 meters to be attached to its new foundations in its new location. You can read more about the engineering project to move the building here.



I'm going to close this post with a link to another composition, my second written here in Shanghai. Again, I apologize that I only have a synthetic midi file rather than a recording. Same lame excuse as before: it's pretty difficult, and I haven't had a chance to learn it yet. I hesitate more with this piece than I did with the last one, because it suffers more than that one did from being heard this way. Still, if you take it as given, that when played by a human being, it will have a much more delicate character, you can at least get a hint of how it is meant to sound. So, no more editorializing, my Barcarolle, written during September and October in Shanghai, can be heard here.

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