Cello and piano

Press, 14 August 1989, Page 8

Cello and piano

Gayle Smith (cello) and Maurice Till (piano), in the Herbert William King Music Room, August 13, at 3 p.m. Reviewed by Paul Goodson. This programme, second in the series of complete Beethoven cello sonatas, was a first for me on several counts.

The recently completed venue is already more than serviceable, and potentially a fine addition to Christchurch’s concert chambers. Attention will need to be given to internal furnishings, however, and possibly to acoustic absorption above the stage. At present, even a practically full house, bare walls, a wooden platform and no curtaining resulted in a robust, almost hard tone above mezzo-forte levels.

The Bechstein piano is clearly a superb instrument. On first hearing I was impressed by its intimate character, despite the full concert specifications. Again, at present it is sounding a bit wooden at higher volume levels. The felts will "shape” and mellow with usage, though, and the slightly metallic quality should crystallise into delicacy, making it, to my knowledge, New Zealand’s best chamber piano. What a stunning partnership is being forged between visiting lecturer Gayle Smith and resident lecturer Maurice Till. This was Beethoven played with authority, relish and strength. Miss Smith’s virile approach to her art engendered a similar assertiveness and concentration from the pianist, resulting in full-blown performances, even of the early Op. 5 No. 2 sonata.

Whatever the historical state of the classical duo sonata in the 17905, Miss Smith’s intensity and vibrant tone placed her to the fore in the G minor work. It was not a matter of combating the greater number of notes allotted to the piano, but of expressive point, which raised even the Alberti Bass passage in the Rondo far above the popularised concept of this device as background chatter.

The later Op. 102 No'. 2 is altogether a more daunting work. I was immediately struck by the cellist’s incisive opening phrases which leapt into fully lit prominence, instead of being nudged into reluctant existence.

The Adagio, though affecting in it poignancy, was not allowed to wallow. Both artists kept the tension tightly screwed up even with reduced tone from the piano; the closing moments of the coda were most beautifully gauged. Beethoven fugues, perhaps because of their deviation from strict counterpoint, are richly endowed thematically, and correspondingly challenging to perform. Even "bare” contrapuntal subjects bear a heightened expressive character, which gives an orchestral density of texture at key points of convergence, whatever the medium. The Op. 102 fugue was given a reading unremitting in its energy and power.

Between these two masterpieces, the “Magic Flute” variations sounded short on the inventive wit and sparkle normally associated with this form.