[LJ2ME] The Dark Arts
The two arts are as alike as chalk and cheese, so for the composer, Yii Kah Hoe, to have conceived the notion of marrying both, much less carrying it to term was a bold and decisive move.
So it was at last week's Singapore Chinese Orchestra performance where the Chinese orchestra forces were joined by a wayang kulit ensemble complete with shadow puppet theatre on stage.
I can't truthfully comment on the work or performance, for I nodded off intermittently during the presentation. While I could excuse myself for the early start to the work day and it being a long one, or to the intoxicating sandalwood incense from the burner at the start, it wouldn't be totally wrong to say that the drone-like monotonous delivery of the Bahasa narrative was a narcotic sedative itself.
So much for the page-turning synopsis of the story of love and war, everything began to coalesce into an indistinguishable and undefinable blur, despite the beauty of the intricate filigree detail of the puppets and their attractive silhouettes.
The second half of the evening returned us to more familiar ground with music from Dream of the Red Chamber Suite up first. While supposedly culled from the soundtrack of the television series, I did think to myself that there were snatches of melody that may ring a bell, but just barely, and nothing more than that.
Yong Siew Toh Head of Strings, Qian Zhou closed the evening with the Butterfly Lovers' Violin Concerto. This evergreen work, with its Oriental soundscape was competently taken by Qian whose reading was infused with sweetness of tone and security in technique.
Having a Chinese orchestra play along the violin's lead part lent a softer touch to the proceedings, just as having a female respective in the solo part fleshed out the feminine wiles of the narrative, though Qian convincingly portrayed both the male and female voices of the main protagonists.
As the ill-fated lovers resigned themselves to their circumstances and ended their lives in the tragic unfolding, it was a haunting and ethereal finish as Qian's violin died away with the barest of whispers.
Perhaps due reminder of the uncertainty of the economy, this was a sign that maybe I should start scaling back my my arts attendance and expenditure. What I thought was something I would enjoy, turned out not so or otherwise was not paired with a more receptive mental and physical state of being. So it was that a snoozefest was once again on the cards with Saturday evening's Anne Sofie von Otter and her Merry Swedish Gentleman's Christmas Special, which was subscribed blind just on the name of the star.
While the inclusion of holiday favourites crafted with breathy, jazzy, soulful allure was enchanting and entrancing, the other bedfellows were Swedish folk tunes which perhaps lost their appeal for want of comprehension and translation.
With song titles sounding like reading off an Ikea catalogue and with her ensemble of players with similar sounding monikers, it was nonetheless a beautiful voice which fleshed out the songs. However, I was soon lulled into a comfortable nap, waking to clap at the appropriate moments. And I must report that during the intermission, many were spotted barely disguising their yawns, a prominent critic included and I suspect whose review you can read in the papers today.
The second half was a mixed bag of tricks. It was off to a good start with an unintentionally funny introduction by pianist and long-time accompanist of von Otter, Bengt Forsberg, who then proceeded to give a souped-up rendition of Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring.
In the darkened hall, von Otter's disembodied voice carried pure and true as she participated in her solitary Santa Lucia procession. To recreate the conditions in Sweden this time of year, when it is all dark and cold outside, she performed without her spotlight, her silhouette an apparition in white illuminated only by a single candle.
If the earlier half had been a little too sedate for some tastes, things soon got a fix with a virtuosic cello solo by Svante Henryson whose wild mane of hair provided the rock and roll element which von Otter and the ensemble lent finger-snapping and feet-stamping back-up with almost barnhouse line-dancing vigour.
In the French Boum!, von Otter boogied and shimmied like the best of cabaret singers as she raised the temperature in the house with an exciting number before taming the audience with a serenely calming Like an Angel from the lost music of Abba. How appropriate then, that the evening ended with Thank You For The Music.
So it was at last week's Singapore Chinese Orchestra performance where the Chinese orchestra forces were joined by a wayang kulit ensemble complete with shadow puppet theatre on stage.
I can't truthfully comment on the work or performance, for I nodded off intermittently during the presentation. While I could excuse myself for the early start to the work day and it being a long one, or to the intoxicating sandalwood incense from the burner at the start, it wouldn't be totally wrong to say that the drone-like monotonous delivery of the Bahasa narrative was a narcotic sedative itself.
So much for the page-turning synopsis of the story of love and war, everything began to coalesce into an indistinguishable and undefinable blur, despite the beauty of the intricate filigree detail of the puppets and their attractive silhouettes.
The second half of the evening returned us to more familiar ground with music from Dream of the Red Chamber Suite up first. While supposedly culled from the soundtrack of the television series, I did think to myself that there were snatches of melody that may ring a bell, but just barely, and nothing more than that.
Yong Siew Toh Head of Strings, Qian Zhou closed the evening with the Butterfly Lovers' Violin Concerto. This evergreen work, with its Oriental soundscape was competently taken by Qian whose reading was infused with sweetness of tone and security in technique.
Having a Chinese orchestra play along the violin's lead part lent a softer touch to the proceedings, just as having a female respective in the solo part fleshed out the feminine wiles of the narrative, though Qian convincingly portrayed both the male and female voices of the main protagonists.
As the ill-fated lovers resigned themselves to their circumstances and ended their lives in the tragic unfolding, it was a haunting and ethereal finish as Qian's violin died away with the barest of whispers.
Perhaps due reminder of the uncertainty of the economy, this was a sign that maybe I should start scaling back my my arts attendance and expenditure. What I thought was something I would enjoy, turned out not so or otherwise was not paired with a more receptive mental and physical state of being. So it was that a snoozefest was once again on the cards with Saturday evening's Anne Sofie von Otter and her Merry Swedish Gentleman's Christmas Special, which was subscribed blind just on the name of the star.
While the inclusion of holiday favourites crafted with breathy, jazzy, soulful allure was enchanting and entrancing, the other bedfellows were Swedish folk tunes which perhaps lost their appeal for want of comprehension and translation.
With song titles sounding like reading off an Ikea catalogue and with her ensemble of players with similar sounding monikers, it was nonetheless a beautiful voice which fleshed out the songs. However, I was soon lulled into a comfortable nap, waking to clap at the appropriate moments. And I must report that during the intermission, many were spotted barely disguising their yawns, a prominent critic included and I suspect whose review you can read in the papers today.
The second half was a mixed bag of tricks. It was off to a good start with an unintentionally funny introduction by pianist and long-time accompanist of von Otter, Bengt Forsberg, who then proceeded to give a souped-up rendition of Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring.
In the darkened hall, von Otter's disembodied voice carried pure and true as she participated in her solitary Santa Lucia procession. To recreate the conditions in Sweden this time of year, when it is all dark and cold outside, she performed without her spotlight, her silhouette an apparition in white illuminated only by a single candle.
If the earlier half had been a little too sedate for some tastes, things soon got a fix with a virtuosic cello solo by Svante Henryson whose wild mane of hair provided the rock and roll element which von Otter and the ensemble lent finger-snapping and feet-stamping back-up with almost barnhouse line-dancing vigour.
In the French Boum!, von Otter boogied and shimmied like the best of cabaret singers as she raised the temperature in the house with an exciting number before taming the audience with a serenely calming Like an Angel from the lost music of Abba. How appropriate then, that the evening ended with Thank You For The Music.