(program)
Angel Stero recording, printed in Canada
Franz Liszt (1811-1886)
Piano Concerto No.2 in A Major
Philharmonia Orchestra, conducted by Constantin Silvestri
Pianist: Samson François
Piano Concerto No.2 in A Major
Adagio sostenuto assai
Allegro agitato assai
Allegro moderato
Allegro deciso
Marziale un poco meno allegro
Allegro animato
Up like sun
Down like sun
Still Sun
“” Still Sun — Obongjayar
i’m still reeling off of the restlessness that resulted from the happenings of the last few weeks. Liszt isn’t exactly a soft and soothing shoulder to rest a weary head, but his Piano Concerto No.2 has been one of the few sources of concentration this week. this is last of the ten piano concertos in the 52-week roster of recordings that i curated for this journal. the hope was to get a sense of the general format of the piano concerto via a relatively broad survey, but it seems the only criteria these compositions have in common—with their variety of lengths, moods, scales, and colours—is the pairing of a soloist with an orchestra.
So wayward is the construction in any terms known to academic analysis that many have regarded it as a kind of symphonic poem with undisclosed story — “the life and adventures of a melody”, as one commentator described it. “” Leonard Duck, notes for the recording.
Liszt’s second piano concerto is the shortest of the bunch, and also the most unconventional. at just over 20 minutes in length—compared to Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No.5 that ticks the forty-minute mark—its five movements, of contrasting velocities, play out in one continuous stretch. the work moves ‘like a free fantasia’, not quite building up to a significant tension, at least until the final combustion of the coda, and not quite relieving the tensions it accumulates. come to think of it, it’s a bit of slippery stretch of music, nothing to hold on to. the usual partitions between soloist and orchestra are omitted, but that distinction doesn’t quite feel an adequate description of this concerto: the soloist and orchestra are frequently revved by the same beckoning call that is often relieved by a tutti that makes no distinction between the solo instrument and the rest of the orchestra.
unexpected members of the orchestra often overpower the soloist’s part. most notable are the duets that spring up between piano and other instruments: first with a cello solo, in a slow rhapsodic passage that transitions into a duet with oboe, then, a little later, another duet with principal flute. the divide between piano and orchestra has been perforated by details that would otherwise be lost in a typical call and response, antagonist vs. ally, relationships between soloist and the orchestral body. all in all, how different the world looked when i first heard the Piano Concerto No.1 in this recording, it seems it’s all starting up again, for better or for worse.
(song of the week: ‘Still Sun’ — Obongjayar)
I've got to be strong
Strong like mum
Strong like remember those days when you used to sleep in church
Lagbaja
Steve Umoh—on stage as Obongjayar—is a Nigerian-British artist born in Calabar, a town just south east of the one i was born in Nigeria. he, too, was brought up by his grandmother and immigrated to the western world with a bit of difficulty finding an english accent compatible to his native tongue. the result, though he initially went with the american accent inspired by influences like Nelly and Eminem, is the raspy blue timbres that hark back to his native Efik language. similarly, i speak Yoruba, more specifically a rural dialect called Ondo, which requires a heavier tongue than English—the words are produced from the back of the tongue rather than the tip—that tends to flatten vowels; and i still haven’t gotten used to how much the timbre of my voice changes when i switch between the two languages.
i first heard this song when Obongjayar released it as a single last december. it was his voice that caught my attention, and the dialect with which he sang his lyrics, a throwback to some of Nigeria’s musical titans: King Sunny Ade (of the same Ondo tribe), Fela Kuti, Lagbaja and so on. come to think of it, the similarity between his voice and that of Lagbaja—the extravagantly masked and saxophoned pop-sensation of mine and every Nigerian boy’s childhood—check out Lagbaja’s ‘Konko Below’ for an idea of what i mean. Obongjayar repacked that single for the opening song of an EP, Which Way Is Forward, released this year; a title which perhaps explains the choices made for the music video of ‘Still Sun’.
another thing that caught my ear, a passing line, the significance of which can hardly be grasped without having experienced it: Strong like remember those days when you used to sleep in church. ahh yes, those were the days. with everything that’s going on, i’ve been coming to this song as an unexpected solace, as a sort of refrain: that a people so beloved and marked by the sun, whatever their lot may be, either on their native land, or as offshoots of foreign iterations, be it up or down, bounded or liberated, they’re still sun.
Throwback to: Year 1, Week45 / Year 2, Week45
Click here for the full 2019/2020 roster of composers