NZTrio finds heart in Schumann’s flawed final piano trio – William Dart
NZTrio’s Reverie must have been a welcome return home, in the middle of a 10-concert tour, running from Kerikeri to Dunedin.
A Cradle Song by Hanna Kulenty fully realised promises of a dense and visceral trance.
The Polish composer’s operatic successes were reflected in its dramatic opening, with Amalia Hall and Mathias Balzat’s shivery strings set against Somi Kim’s insistent piano chords; tensions were dramatically sustained over its 10 minutes, despite passing minimalist cliches.
The fairly conservative language of American composer Adam Schoenberg may well have struck a sympathetic chord with some in the audience, but his starry Las Estrellas irked me.
NZTrio dispensed tinkling prettiness and banal chord sequences with consummate professionalism and artistry, but the result sounded like a protracted soundtrack for a Hallmark Movie of the Week.
A vintage piano trio by the 19-year-old Leonard Bernstein was the evening’s curiosity, the unstinting enthusiasm of its performance punching vitality into what could have been a brag-book of teenage virtuosity.
With passing hints of Bernstein musicals yet to come, with some dry fugato strutting, genuine enjoyment came with some spellbinding lyricism from Hall as well as some snappy walking cello from Balzat. Kim ably maintained connections through its chameleon-like shifts of style.
Karlo Margetic’s new Icarus on Titan is based on a wistful conceit of the foolish young Greek hero flying free in the thick and hazy atmosphere of Saturn’s moon, far from our sun’s melting heat. The Wellington composer opens up an eerie sonic world here; strings swoon and swoop in glissando mode until Kim adds nervy flourishes.
Intricate in his detailing, does Margetic suggest a compelling narrative when a dark-hued and blurred central section hints, for a heart-stopping moment, that Icarus’ winged days may be over. A lively musical recapitulation suggested, however, that he flies again, even if a final downward spiral could be ominous.
Schumann’s last piano trio, written during his final struggles with mental illness, is seriously flawed.
Yet tonight, its many shortcomings, presented with such bristling energy, took on a new resilience and courage.
Rich and supple textures revealed the considerable heart of its slow movement; his finale, little more than a medley of dancing tunes, had an immensely moving desperation to it.