(program)
Electrola recording , Printed in Germany.
W. A. Mozart (1756 - 1791)
Piano Concerto No. 11 (1783`)
English Chamber Orchestra, conducted by Daniel Barenboim. Piano: Daniel Barenboim
Piano Concerto No.11
1) Allegro
2) Larghetto
3) Tempo di Menuetto
His headdress crested, giving him the air of gazelles
That race through dunes strewn with desert gourds
If only I could become a stand in his mother's tent
That way I would never miss a moment he inhabits
‘Chaghaybou’ — Tinariwen
minus the pangs of worry at the sight of a crowded Trinity Bellwoods on saturday, the first intimations of summer this week came in perfect timing with the choice of a piano concerto for this iteration of Mozart in May. it’s my first time hearing this Concerto No.11 in entirety; when about six years ago i first heard the Larghetto of Murray Perahia recording with the English Chamber Orchestra (the same ensemble in this recording with Daniel Barenboim), i’ve had it in mind since to come back to its source one day. how much easier it would be to follow the mood. trajectory, and spirit of a concerto, if they were all about the same length as this (just under 25 minutes in all). the fast-slow-fast structure brings out the best of the slow movement in this case: the Allegro rushes up to a summit, the Larghetto enjoys the view, and the Menuetto in 3/4 time brings you back down to reality.
From time to time, falling phrases from the piano are echoed in the violins, and we learn to look forward to these moments. And there are times where the mood darkens, only to emerge again into the light. The music’s subtle blend of operatic decoration with delicate emotional nuances gives the movement an extraordinary satisfying sense of flow. “” Robert Philip on the second movement, The Classical Music Lover’s Companion
the Larghetto of this concerto (10:20 to 17:46 in the video above, handled with difficulty by an otherwise impressive fourteen year old Yael Koldobsky) and the Adagio Sostenuto of Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No.2 are two of my favourite slow movements in the piano concerto format. both of which swim with ‘unassuming grace’ in a slow and simple liquid of the solo instrument. when i heard that Perahia recording, my mind inexplicably went to a couple lines from Kaija Saarahio’s opera, Love From Afar—which had just premiered at the COC at that time—about the virtues of being “beautiful without the arrogance of beauty, noble without the arrogance of nobility, pious without the arrogance of piety”. that for me describes the easiness of the Larghetto, the effortlessness with which it passes; a necessary reminder of the simple elegance of moving at one’s own pace, especially as the weather warms up and we inevitably crawl out from out of quarantine.
‘Sunlight in the Blue Room’ — Anna Ancher (1891)
He guarantees that the sounding-board will neither break nor split. When he has finished making one for a clavier, he places it in the open air, exposing it to rain, snow, the heat of the sun and all the devils in order that it may crack. Then he inserts wedges and glues them in to make the instrument very strong and firm. He is delighted when it cracks, for he can then be sure that nothing more can happen to it. Indeed he often cuts into it himself and then glues it together again and strengthens it in this way. “” Mozart on his favourite piano maker , Johann Andreas Stein
for a piano concerto, the soloist’s spotlight is relatively dim. there’s a symphonic sound to this piece, which can be described as a symphonic locomotive with the piano attached as a sidecar. the dominant role of the strings are also of note, so much so that Mozart suggested that if an orchestra is not readily available, the concerto can be played as a piano quintet version of the already austere initial scoring: piano, strings, 2 oboes, and 2 horns. it’s the strings that lend the Larghetto its delicate air: whereas the first and third movement give the orchestra the lead and the piano speaks in short staccato sentences—characteristic of Mozart’s piano writing, rebuked by Beethoven for their ‘choppiness’—it’s the piano that instead takes the forefront of the Larghetto with steady gliding gestures while the strings flap their wings to elaborate on the solo instrument in a call-and-response. though Barenboim’s performance (including simultaneous conduction!) of the entire concerto is commendable, the Perahia’s recording still remains my gold standard.
(song of the week: ‘Chaghaybou’ — Tinariwen)
We should not forget that to exist in this or any desert is to resist, and to dream becomes a way of resistance. “” Aziza Brahim in an interview with Blue Riband
today is my brother’s 19th birthday, and what a beautiful young man he’s become. i’ve not seem him since i left nigeria in 2003. there’s a pain in that that’s perhaps buried a bit too deep for words. blue, it’s the peculiar colour of the homesick. its the hue that stretches between the homes they left behind and the ones not yet found.
i’m trying to understand my burgeoning obsession with the music of the Tuareg people, of the western sahara at large, the blue peoples of the desert. in a metaphorical sense, a desert is any place in-between homes, and indeed there are perhaps as many deserts within as the ones traversed by nomadic tribes like the Tuareg. there are ongoing efforts to resist the desertification of arable lands along the sahara, the Great Green Wall for example: the planting of 8000km belt of trees along with of the continent. without this sense of hope, and the dignity of hope, resistance of any kind is impossible.
in tamasheq—the language of the Tuareg—ténéré is the word for desert, the plural of which is tinariwen. what a beautiful song ‘Chaghaybou’ is (the second one from the band’s 2014 album, Emmaar). it recounts the memory of a young man from the past, the rough translation of the tamasheq lyrics is as follows:
God can bear witness when I think of Chaghaybou
The pain in the stomach that takes hold of me
Has no other remedy than a heart-to-heart with him late at night
I love him and I love those he loves, into the life beyond
I pine for those handsome and brave wearers of double turbans!
Amongst them Ahmad, Hamad Ahad and their friend, Chaghaybou.
The same who dine on grilled ram
When I glimpse him dressed in his beautiful robes
Smelling of a mixture of perfumes...
His headdress crested, giving him the air of gazelles
That race through dunes strewn with desert gourds
If only I could become a stand in his mother's tent
That way I would never miss a moment he inhabits
Especially those when his mother is teaching him Tifinagh
In the sand
i find it absolutely irresistible, the breathless galloping pace of many of Tinariwen’s songs. the incredible stamina of their tempo. the only other place in music that i find a comparably unstoppable force is, quite unexpectedly, baroque music—the Allegro of the Brandenburg Concerto No.3, for example. it’s the music of the open air, of a marathonian stamina acquired not by self-preservation, but by overexposure…testing one’s hide by “exposing it to rain, snow, the heat of the sun and all the devils in order that it may crack”.
Throwback to: Year 1, Week 42
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