Cordial Reception
It does not bode well when you cannot recollect when or what was the last performance of a piece of music you caught, and so it was that dontlikeyou and I left the concert at intermission with this cloud of doubt over our minds. Yes, let the record state that it has recently become habit for us to only stay for what we want to listen to, instead of sitting through another hour of mulch. I'm not being facetious here but just stating matters of the fact, as it were.
So this evening's SSO Gala headlined violinst Midori in Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto, a work which is so familiar and dear to the heart that one can have it on loop in the head ad nauseaum, without respite and tedium. Be it may, there's nothing quite like a live performance to put things into perspective, and thus, every concert which programmes the work would have us down on the manifest.
When she took to the stage, the applause at her entry was as warm and welcoming as befitted her pedigree. In a soft, flowy pastel dress with flower motifs and delicate scalloped sleeves and hem, she was a picture of peaches and cream perfection, a breath of fresh air from the tried and tested gowns of old. Her instrument to drive this vehicle was the magnificent 1734 Guarnerius del Gesu "ex-Huberman".
Midori's Tchaikovsky was one that,while not shortchanging the pyrotechnics when called for, paid its dues with an introspective and internalised reading. There was much to be learnt from her deliberate and processed train of thought as she teased out the pathos of the work. Fireworks are fireworks and this she pulled off with aplomb, but what stood out was her narrative approach, seemingly fleshing out a story, of the composition's origins or the composer's life.
Her phrasing took slight liberties to highlight nuances and details hitherto ignored and unheard. Her harmonics were hauntingly pristine and her pizzicato a study of execution. Midori is a violinist as interesting to watch as she is to hear, for she was not above swaying and lurching on her feet as she physically threw herself into the music. Her hold on the violin presented the audience with a clear view of her fingering and bowing and thus became an instructional masterclass as we could see her make music as it were.
The reception which greeted the end of the work was long and loud, and she granted an encore in the Fugue from Bach's Violin Sonata No 1, in which her reading was raw and visceral in its seminal qualities. Yes, this evening was as intoxicating and saccharine as the melon liquer with which our soloist shares her name.
So this evening's SSO Gala headlined violinst Midori in Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto, a work which is so familiar and dear to the heart that one can have it on loop in the head ad nauseaum, without respite and tedium. Be it may, there's nothing quite like a live performance to put things into perspective, and thus, every concert which programmes the work would have us down on the manifest.
When she took to the stage, the applause at her entry was as warm and welcoming as befitted her pedigree. In a soft, flowy pastel dress with flower motifs and delicate scalloped sleeves and hem, she was a picture of peaches and cream perfection, a breath of fresh air from the tried and tested gowns of old. Her instrument to drive this vehicle was the magnificent 1734 Guarnerius del Gesu "ex-Huberman".
Midori's Tchaikovsky was one that,while not shortchanging the pyrotechnics when called for, paid its dues with an introspective and internalised reading. There was much to be learnt from her deliberate and processed train of thought as she teased out the pathos of the work. Fireworks are fireworks and this she pulled off with aplomb, but what stood out was her narrative approach, seemingly fleshing out a story, of the composition's origins or the composer's life.
Her phrasing took slight liberties to highlight nuances and details hitherto ignored and unheard. Her harmonics were hauntingly pristine and her pizzicato a study of execution. Midori is a violinist as interesting to watch as she is to hear, for she was not above swaying and lurching on her feet as she physically threw herself into the music. Her hold on the violin presented the audience with a clear view of her fingering and bowing and thus became an instructional masterclass as we could see her make music as it were.
The reception which greeted the end of the work was long and loud, and she granted an encore in the Fugue from Bach's Violin Sonata No 1, in which her reading was raw and visceral in its seminal qualities. Yes, this evening was as intoxicating and saccharine as the melon liquer with which our soloist shares her name.