# concerts in Europe



## SCHLEMO

An Unexpected Treat
Today, my wife and I purchased tickets to attend an upcoming concert played on period instruments at the oldest church in Vienna. I was very fond of the composers on the program—J.S. Bach, C.P.E. Bach, Telemann, and Quantz. But I had a few nagging concerns about the concert. 
From frequent listening to CD recordings of works performed on original instruments, I have found that the sound can sometimes be a little sour. In addition, I had never heard of the group that was performing, the Ensemble Klingekunst. After checking out the church before the concert, I had further doubts. The place had a strong musty odor, it was clammy, it was stuffy, it was hot, and it felt a bit claustrophobic. I began to wonder if we would be the only people bothering to attend this concert under such adverse conditions. But at least there was one consolation: If things got unbearable, we at least could leave at the intermission. 
Despite the unpleasant environment and the obscure (at least to me) ensemble, we dragged ourselves to the church. The first good sign we noticed as we reached the church was that there were a lot of people waiting in line with us. In fact, just before the concert began, more chairs and an extra bench had to be enlisted to accommodate the crowd. Another positive note was that the woman next to us effusively praised the summer series at the church.
The minute the performance began, my wife and I knew that we had made the right choice in coming to St. Ruprecht’s. The ensemble played so gloriously that after a while, we were able to ignore our accumulated perspiration and the crypt-like surroundings.
Each member of the young female group, whether performing together or individually, was magnificent. They were consummate professionals who had mastered their instruments. Throughout every piece, the cellist, harpsichordist, and transverse flute player were riveting and so incredibly versatile. They performed some selections with tenderness, others with tenacity. 
They were a delight to watch. The harpsichord player, almost in a trance, swayed lovingly over the two keyboards as her hands, so delicate and nimble, effortlessly did her bidding. The transverse flutist, particularly during her demanding Bach partita solo, glided through the work with charismatic charm (if she were the pied piper, she’d have me hooked for sure). The cellist was the most dramatic performer. During the second movement of the Telemann sonata, she attacked her instrument with such vigor that I thought she’d break a string. In the third movement, the rapturous expression on her face and her gentle bowing almost made time stand still.
As far as I’m concerned, the stellar Ensemble Klingekunst already is one of the foremost original instrument groups in the world. If you bought one of their CDs, you would accrue a lifetime of interest.

How Many, Many Feet You Meet
The last time that my wife and I went to an organ recital in Honolulu, featuring renowned organist Ken Cowan, we both marveled at his incredibly adept footwork on the pedal keyboards. The encore was particularly astounding, Free’s Variation of Rachmaninoff’s Variations on a Theme by Paganini, a fleet-footed work requiring only the pedal keyboard. It was truly a tour de foot. His dexterous feet moved so quickly crisscrossing the pedals that I would have loved to have seen an instant replay in slow motion; that way, I might have a chance to figure out just which pedals he was whisking over. I only wish cameras were allowed so that I could have at least taken some of the footage.
Well, today I saw a young man on the treadmill with highly stylized footwork of his own. When he faced forward on the machine, he walked nonchalantly at a normal pace (3.5); there were no flourishes or histrionics. But when he turned around on the treadmill, he transformed himself into one of the novel street performers in Waikiki. At one moment, his feet gracefully glided and at times lovingly skipped over the treadmill as if he were auditioning for a Fred Astaire soft-shoe competition. Without warning, he then quickened his pace, rhythmically slip-sliding along to the side of the treadmill. Then he segued into a blur of twisting feet as he rotated back to the forward position where he resumed walking ahead almost robotically, but not for long. After a few minutes, he’d turn around and switch into his dance mode, what I’d call variations on the treadmill shuffle.
In Oahu, whether you are aficionados of the organ or the treadmill, you can be regaled by master entertainers, many of whom perform artistic feats with their very, very talented feet.

Saturday Festivities
Before taking the funicular to the Fortress, the towering Festung Hohensalzburg, a man grabbed my arm and said we needed to a free concert beginning in 10 minutes at the Dom, the Salzburg Cathedral that we visited yesterday. I hoped to get front-row seats, my favorite spot, for observing the performers and feeling the immediate impact of the sound; but we were too late. We had to settle for over a dozen rows back to the right. The group, the New English Orchestra and Chorus played excerpts of sacred music from the baroque to the present. I wasn’t sure if they were any good because the echoing sound at the great Dom was muffled and hollow. And the performers were too far away for me to see how expressive they were. My wife, however, was so fond of the orchestra and chorus that she persuaded me to attend another one of their concerts that evening, one with a different program and one in a much smaller venue, a hall in the Old Residence across the street. I figured that if we planned on arriving early, we’d find empty seats upfront where there would be good acoustics and an intimate view of the players.
That evening, from our second-row seats, we had excellent coverage of the orchestra and chorus. The acoustics were top notch as were the musicians, whose spirited playing was just as outstanding as the quality of their performance. 
When I was in a choir that sang the Messiah, the conductor frowned upon any of us who moved anything but our lips. It was if we had to be almost frozen in time. I was appalled. How could we enjoy what we were singing if we couldn’t smile, or raise or lower our heads, or even slightly sway to the music’s rhythm? I’m glad that the conductor at the Residence concert encouraged his group to express themselves as joyously as they did. Many performers were beaming, bobbing up and down and to the side, and a few of them raised their hands in a devout gesture during the Arguello’s Resucito (Behold the Resurrection).
It was amazing how versatile the orchestra and chorus were. For one selection, a soprano took the place of the first violinist. At the end of another piece, all of the members of the orchestra sang, even the conductor, along with the chorus itself.
But the most moving part of the program was at the end. Every performer fanned out between the aisles, slowing walking towards the audience while either repeatedly chanting a sacred prayer or playing their instruments and sometimes doing both until all of them reached the back of the hall.
My wife and I had two uplifting experiences yesterday at a castle and at a concert. Bravo to both!

Sunday: Chamber Music to Die for
Mozart, Beethoven, and Brahms would be proud. At a matinee performance, the Fritz Kreisler Trio, a young but seasoned ensemble consisting of a female cellist, a male pianist, and a male violinist superbly played three very different works. Their rendition was delicate, subtle, and refined in the Mozart Trio KV 502, more free swinging and vigorous in the Beethoven Trio op. 11, and a whirlwind of almost unceasing energy in the Brahms Trio No. 2, op.87. There was never a tentative note. The Fritz Kreisler Trio was in complete command. 
Each member of the ensemble was a consummate professional, abstaining from any theatrics. Unlike some of the musicians my wife and I have recently seen, the trio preferred not to play up to the audience. They performed as if for themselves and were unflinchingly dedicated to the music. 
Although they seemed to be oblivious to the concertgoers, I was not oblivious to them. I felt like a fly on the wall as I intently homed in on how they articulated with one another. They were absolutely in sync all the time. It was fascinating to watch the music pulse as it would gently cascade or torrentially plunge from one player to another. I don’t know how long the ensemble has been together, but the work involved to achieve their flawless interplay had to be extremely intensive. 
The ensemble is giving a different concert the day after tomorrow. I won’t have to persuade my wife to go. She is just as wowed by the trio as I am. 

The Fritz Kreisler Trio Once More
My wife and I got so addicted to this trio after listening to and observing their brilliant performance a couple of days ago at the Mirabell Palace Church that we today attended their last summer concert in Salzburg. Two of the works were the same as before, the trios by Mozart and Brahms. The two new compositions on the program were Schumann’s Trio #2, op. 80 and Shostakovich’s Trio #1, op.8. 
For the earlier concert, we sat in front row slightly to the left of the violinist. This time, we sat in the same row on the other side of the aisle and right in front of the cellist. Before, we heard the violin more than the cello or piano; today it was reversed. Earlier, we saw more of the cellist, Lisa Killian, and less of the violinist, Josef Herzer. Today we saw a complete frontal view of both the violinist and the cellist. At the previous concert, we had an unobstructed view of the pianist, Stefan Gurtner. Today we could not see his hands. What a difference this new perspective made! 
From our new perch, the resonant sound of the violin, cello, and piano was equally balanced. And an added bonus was that we now had a full view of the violinist’s heartfelt expressions, whether tender, cheerful, or frenetic. He wasn’t histrionic, just genuine. Not seeing the pianist’s hands was a drawback, but I took so much notice of them at the last concert that I could visualize their versatile movements today, even in the two new pieces.
About the Schumann and the Shostakovich trios: I had never heard them before, but I am now intimately familiar with them. The Kreisler Trio sweetly embraced the ultra-romantic Schumann piece. It almost made my eyes water. On the other hand, the Shostakovich trio was almost manic depressive. Throughout the work, the trio masterfully alternated melancholy longing with ferocious, almost raucous abandon. My wife and I marveled at their virtuosity.
We feared that the Mozart and Brahms trios performed by the same ensemble on the last program we attended would be less novel and less stirring the second time around. We were wrong. We were now more in tune with how the trios were shaped and how they progressed. But we did notice that the works, particularly the fourth tumultuous movement of the Brahms trio, seemed shorter than before. 
After the performance, we gingerly went to the back room to meet with the ensemble. Right away, they said that they had noticed we had come a second time and were extremely pleased to see us again. They shook our hands and chatted with us as if we were good friends. We told them that they would be very welcome in Honolulu where chamber concerts are tremendously appreciated. After exchanging their website information, they confided in us that the group has been together for only two years and don’t perform worldwide. We were astonished. Such an accomplished trio had the mature artistry of any famous ensemble I’ve ever witnessed in person or heard on innumerable recordings. My wife and I promised to place reviews of their two performances on Facebook and on the trio’s website. 
Regardless of the group’s relative inexperience, my wife and I, both senior citizens, felt like groupies in the presence of chamber music rock celebrities. I wouldn’t be surprised if in a few years the Fritz Kreisler Trio has a monument devoted to them in Salzburg, certainly not one as tall as the Chrysler Building in New York City but deservedly just as renowned.


A Concert to Remember
The musicians at every concert my wife and I have attended in Salzburg have been uniformly excellent, including the ones who performed Johann Michael Haydn’s Requiem at St. Peter’s church late this afternoon. 
Because the church orchestra wasn’t on risers, and I was in the third row behind a few tall people, I couldn’t see the individual players very well. I heard them fine, and they were as good as I had expected. Instead, I focused on the 30-member church chorus, all of whom I could see. It helped that they were standing, even when they were not singing.
Overall, what impressed me most about the chorus, besides their high-quality voices, was that the sound of the 15 male voices on the right of the podium and the sound of the15 female voices on the left of it were equally balanced whenever they sang at the same volume. Normally, the high pitched soprano voices overpower the bass ones, but not in this chorus.
Accordingly, it shouldn’t have been strange that of the four soloists, two women and two men, the bass/baritone and the soprano had equally strong and supple voices. The alto had a mellifluous voice, but she didn’t project it sufficiently. The tenor too had a mellow voice, but he kept his music so close to his face that some of the sound must have ricocheted back at him; it never reached the audience. More likely, his voice wasn’t very powerful.
Two additional observations: In the back row, when one husky young woman sang, her mouth opened into the largest most perfect oval I have ever seen. I have been told that oval-shaped sounds are the sine qua non of a superlative singer. Even though she was pretty far away, I thought that I could see her tonsils vibrate. 
In the front row, the bass/baritone soloist who had such a vibrant voice (oh, those oval tones) even in the lowest registers, seemed to just coast along when he sang with the chorus. He opened his mouth very little, and I could almost feel his pulse go down. Perhaps he was saving his voice for subsequent solos.
I am not fond of watching people walk about the Old City or any city. I do, however, love to observe musicians. 
For me, seeing and then internalizing their expressions as they play can tremendously enhance the performance. I make a personal connection that I couldn’t possibly get from listening to a recording, no matter how splendid the sound quality. Sure, there are exceptions. Sometimes a musician is stone faced or a little goofy looking or sniffles a lot. But these cases are rare. I have been very fortunate to have experienced up close the full impact of a live concert. 
Being at a performance might be more expensive than listening to a CD, but it’s worth it. Of course, there is an added bonus if the concert is free, as it was this afternoon and a couple of other times in Salzburg.
My wife and I haven’t gone to any of the overpriced Salzburg Festival concerts. For one-tenth the price, we have luxuriated in our own sound of music.

Our Last Day in Salzburg: A Minus Becomes a Plus
The concert today at St. Peter’s cozy, acoustically brilliant Romanisher Saale was a mixed bag. The Michael Haydn String Quartet, named after Joseph Haydn’s brother and fellow composer who is buried at St. Peters, played Mozart’s last two string quartets: No. 22 in Bb Major, K. 589 and No. 23 in F Major, K. 590.
Plunked down in the first row directly in front of the quartet, I had anticipated a frisson of sonic pyrotechnics. But being that close might have been a disadvantage during the first Mozart piece. The first violinist didn’t hit any wrong notes, but her overly loud playing sounded a bit harsh, metallic, and as skinny and angular as she was. It was hard to appreciate the rest of the ensemble who played with full-bodied amplitude. Mozart was shortchanged. 
The last quartet, however, was worth many a bravo. Fortunately, the second violinist in the earlier quartet switched places with the first violinist for the final work. What a welcome change! I was so relieved to hear the incomparably soothing sounds of the new first violinist that I didn’t notice if the woman he replaced still had a slightly sour tone as second violinist. Maybe she played more softly now that she was no longer in the foreground. Maybe Mozart’s score follows tradition by requiring the second violinist to play mostly in the lower registers while the first violinist soars in the higher registers. Maybe the woman had a different violin, although my wife swears she didn’t. In any case, she no longer irritated me. I could now focus on the glowing grandeur of Mozart’s last string quartet. 
I don’t know if I would have delighted in the final work as much as I did if I hadn’t been so distressed during the first quartet. If that were so, then I guess I should thank the woman who later took second fiddle. It’s like recovering from a bout of the gout. You appreciate things much more when you no longer hurt. 
It was a propitious twist of fate that the woman did a 23 skidoo from her role as first violinist before the ensemble played Mozart’s 23rd string quartet.

A Night at the Opera
Last night, my wife and I attended a performance of Mozart’s Don Giovanni given by the Prague National Theater Opera Company at the Estates Theater in Prague, the same venue where Mozart conducted the 1787 premiere of Don Giovanni. In fact, the Estates Theater is the only opera house still standing where Mozart was the maestro. The Prague National Theater Opera Company performs only at the Estates Theater, and appropriately their repertoire is primarily Mozart operas. 
The theater itself is a marvel to behold. It has four wrap around balconies in an intimate setting, two people to a booth. The décor is highlighted with original 18th century trimmings, including carved arabesques and angels that also enclose either end of the compact orchestra section. The name of the theater may have changed over the years, but astoundingly, nothing in its interior has been altered since Mozart’s time. And to perform Don Giovanni in modern dress would be unthinkable, even sacrilegious. 
The performance of the opera last night was a fitting tribute to Mozart. The two main divas had rich, strong, vibrant, and enchanting voices: Donna Anna (Marie Fajtova), and Donna Elvira (Alzbeta Polackova). Being in the fourth row, I could feel their provocative singing reverberate within me. The two male leads, Don Giovanni (Svotopluk Sem) and his comic sidekick Leporetto (Jan Stava) had equally powerful and expressive voices even when bantering at the back of the stage, a tough feat for a baritone and a bass, thanks to their own talent plus the wonderful acoustics of the Estates Theater.
It wasn’t just the singing that delighted me. The acting, not always a forte for opera stars, was superb. Every emotion from moral indignation to mock heroics, from self-aggrandizement to self-pity, from sweetness to sass, felt authentic, true to form.
It is difficult to hold an audience’s attention during recitatives, which many opera goers have little use for: “Give me melody or give me death.” Each member of the cast, however, put so much passion into the recitatives that these plot segments were almost as riveting as the arias, duets, and quartets. 
It would take countless bravos to fully show my and my wife’s appreciation of Don Giovanni at the Estates Theater. We just found out that before we leave Prague in a couple of weeks, this same opera group will perform Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro. 
At a matinee price of only $30 apiece for a seat up close, my wife and I will promptly get tickets. Not just promptly but first in line tomorrow when the box office opens.


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## Proms Fanatic

You should set up a blog! It's great that you and your wife go to all these varied places to hear some great music.


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## Guest

Proms Fanatic said:


> You should set up a blog!


S/he has...

http://satzaroo.blogspot.co.uk/2012/01/travel-vignettes.html


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