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October 5, 2004
Early music enchantment and an hour of
interesting listening
By Peter Jacobi, Herald-Times Reviewer
To follow top of the charts operatic and
orchestral fare ("La Boheme" and Tchaikovsky's
Fifth Symphony) in a matter of days with a
concert featuring the virtually unknown (16th
century Guatemalan church music) and another
with some rarely performed 20th-century chamber
music: Well, that's one of the beauties of
Bloomington.
Indeed, such, and more, was this reviewer's
rewarding journey during the week just past, and
I know there were others like me. We're awfully
lucky.
The church music, found in manuscripts dating to
the years around 1582 and now housed in the
Lilly Library, was brought to life in
performance Saturday evening by Ensemble
Lipzodes, a group formed by present and former
students in Indiana University's Early Music
Institute. The musicians used the concert, given
in Trinity Episcopal Church and sponsored by the
Bloomington Early music Festival, as a final
warm-up to the finals of an Early Music America
Competition being held this week in New York
City. Ensemble Lipzodes is one of six
aggregations invited to the event.
The musicians seemed to be ready for their test,
managing like conjurers to take a listener back
to that other time in another place and making
him feel both the reverence and the joy that
this music most likely expressed for worshippers
who first heard it, native worshippers who were
being wooed to Christianity. The lively
instrumental introductions and bridges balanced
the more serious chanting quality of sung
praises and must have made vespers and the mass
more comfortable and acceptable experiences for
the newcomers in attendance.
Wolodymyr Smishkewych's pliable tenor was at the
heart of the chanting. He was ably joined
wherever a choral dimension was called for by
sopranos Teresa Herold and Amanda Sidebottom and
baritone Matthew Leese. As instrumental
foundation, the program had the drumming of
Smishkewych and — on shawms, dulcians and
recorders — the disciplined and informed
musicianship of Juan Carlos Arango, C. Keith
Collins, Anna Marsh and Kathryn Montoya.
There was enchantment to their music making, and
one sensed also that what one heard was as
honest a representation of this music as could
be hoped for, considering the sparseness of
notation and guidance that such old manuscripts
offer. What resulted turned into a most moving
experience.
Sundays at Auer
One can by now consider Francis Poulenc's 1958
Sonata for Flute and Piano an accepted and
recognizable item in the chamber music
repertoire, but what else Sunday's audience in
Auer Hall heard is not nearly so well known:
works by the French Andre Jolivet, the Czech
Bohuslav Martinu and the Russian Aram
Khachaturian.
Together, the four compositions made for an
interesting afternoon hour of listening, and
they certainly gave the participating musicians
sufficient challenges, all met.
The most active performer of the occasion was
flutist Kathryn Lukas, on stage not only for the
both haunting and playful Poulenc but for
Jolivet's more harmonically strident yet also
inviting Sonatine for Flute and Clarinet,
written in 1961, and a flooded-with-notes 1945
Sonata No. 1 for Flute and Piano by Martinu.
Lukas had a trio of fine collaborators: pianist
Sung-Mi Im for the Poulenc, clarinetist Howard
Klug for the Jolivet, and pianist Jean-Louis
Haguenauer for the Martinu.
The adventurous Lukas, so often heard in avant
garde music that stresses technique and shuns
beauty of sound, had an extended opportunity
during this concert to showcase tonal clarity
and sumptuousness. And that she certainly did;
she is, after all, a consummate flutist.
Sunday's pieces made her shine.
The always-excellent Howard Klug returned to the
stage for the program-concluding Trio by
Khachaturian. His admirable collaborators were
pianist Im and violinist Ik-Hwan Bae. All three
seemed to revel in music one would not ascribe
to Khachaturian, so much better known for his
blatant, bombastic, even kitschy ballet scores
like "Gayane" and "Spartacus." The Trio, written
in 1932 when the composer was still a student at
the Moscow Conservatory, is subtle and yet
intense, imbued with melancholy and enriched by
lyricism. The performers treated it with tender
respect.
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