
The Avita Duo’s visit to Singapore got minimal
publicity and virtually no exposure; even the main door to the hall was barred,
with admission gained through a side entrance, well-hidden from public
view. So when I did eventually find
myself among the select group who had made it to sit on the concert hall stage
(rightly, nobody anticipated a sufficiently large turnout to justify opening
the main auditorium seating) I really was not expecting much.
The best musical collaborations are those which have a
personal chemistry and relationship honed over years of working together (which
was the big failing with Saturday’s string quartet). Here we had a mother and
daughter duo, thereby adding to the shared experience of music-making that
innate unity of consciousness which only the closest personal relationships can
create. There were a few occasions when
violinist Katya Moeller made a dubious sound or hit a note slightly
off-balance, which prompted such a spirited flash of the eyes from her mother,
Ksenia Nosikova at the piano, that you wondered whether Katya would later get a
smack and be sent to bed without supper!
But this was no junior/senior partnership, but one of absolute musical
equals who worked so closely with each other that as often as not they seemed
to meld into one.
The perfection of their duo partnership, as well as the
brilliance of their individual playing, was driven home at the very start with
a robust and invigorating account of Beethoven’s 1st Violin Sonata. From start to finish this was absorbing, enlivening
and exciting stuff, full of drama and joy and keeping us all on the edge of our
seats. I’m not sure the Hubay Carmen Fantasy really worked so well
since it projected daughter above mother in a way which felt a little
unnatural. Dazzling violin playing in
this extraordinarily eccentric take on Bizet’s famous tunes, but perhaps it
needed a level of virtuoso individuality which does not come naturally in such
a partnership. Perfect for the pair were
the Lera Auerbach Preludes. Inhabiting a
distinctly post-Shostakovich world, these superbly written miniatures worked so
well in this performance because the duo were so totally attuned to the music
and each other that there was no sense of feeling their way into each small musical
sensation. And, ending as they began
with a core violin/piano duo work, we had Franck’s Violin Sonata.
On average over the last five years, I have heard the
Franck Sonata performed live in whole or in part six times annually in Singapore. There have been impressive and outstanding
performances as well as ignoble and near-disastrous ones, but this swept the
floor with them all. There was something
indefinably Russian about the Avita Duo’s interpretation; whether it was the
amazing poise of the first movement, the sense of tight-lipped restraint in the
second, the pathos of the third or the wonderful expansiveness of the fourth, I
can’t tell, but something here gave it a very different feel. It was a powerful and gloriously committed
performance which, like all great performances, will ring in my memory for days
yet to come. Luckily I was sitting near
an exit which meant that. when the pair decided without prompting from the
audience to launch into an encore, I was able to get away quick before any
cheap bit of showmanship could pollute the lingering aftereffects of the Franck. Why do so many performers think we want an encore to take
away the taste of their performance?
Whatever happened to the mantra, Less is Best?
As for the audience, unsurprisingly it numbered no
more than 30. Of these, about five or
six were students most of whom spent the concert texting on their phones - no
surprise there; I know of no other people on earth less interested in listening
to live music than Singapore music students.
Equally predictably, but much more disturbing, was the
posse of general public dotted around the seats who, periodically, took out
their mobile phones, held them aloft and, despite entreaties from pre-concert announcements,
proceeded to record the concert. What
the hell do these idiots think they are doing?
Do they seriously believe that the tiny little speakers on their ghastly
hand-held devices produce a better sound than the live acoustics of a concert
hall? Do they really find it easier to look
at a minuscule screen than take in with the naked eye the totality of the concert
experience going on around them? Indeed,
do they ever look at these recordings again, or do they merely believe that the
act of recording a live concert simply legitimises it? If you didn’t record it on your phone, it
never took place in reality! Perhaps,
these people are so monumentally selfish and inconsiderate, that holding aloft
their phones for such extended periods of time is in fact a deliberate attempt
to obscure the view of those around them and disturb their enjoyment of the
concert.
The first concert hall to place a bin (preferably an
incinerator) at the door into which all patrons are obliged to deposit their
mobile phones and tablets, will get my unfailing custom for the rest of my
life. Concert-going has become a
dreadful experience simply because of the selfishness of these morons who feel that
they have the right to disturb everyone else in order to record some part of
the presentation for their own private gratification.
And here was a concert which really deserved not to be
spoiled in this way. Such wonderful music
making is still very rare in Singapore and it was a privilege to be there; take
it from me, it can never sound so good through the eyes and ears of your
electronic, hand-held device..
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