A distant shore

The contemporary composer Caroline Shaw lives on the east coast of the USA, in New York – a faraway shore from Topsham in Devon but as was mentioned in the previous blog post the trading connections between Devon and America are historically longstanding.  This map shows the trading links – in particular the route to Newfoundland with its fishing riches. As we will see, the connections across the sea are greater than a map can show. Shaw was born in North Carolina, studied Suzuki violin with her mother and subsequently developed as much of an interest in singing as violin playing, although she has said that she has a particularly close affinity with the string quartet as she fell in love with the genre when she formed a quartet with friends at school.  She has very diverse musical interests and has collaborated with musicians in a number of different genres.  She is not easily pigeonholed. One of the characteristics of Shaw’s writing is how she embraces older musical forms and weaves the old into the new, but without it being obvious or derivative.  She uses it as a spark for her musical imagination.  In this sense she is writing in a great tradition of course, along with many other illustrious composers. Entr’acte, which we are playing, is a response to the minuet and trio of Haydn’s Op 77 No 2 quartet.  In programming Entr’acte with chamber music by Dowland and Locke written long before Haydn established the string quartet as a genre to be reckoned with, it feels right that Haydn’s significance is implicitly acknowledged, especially as we then...

A composer in ordinary

In our next programme we will be starting with music written long before the advent of the string quartet as we know it.  The viol consort music of the early English baroque period in particular has a very strong affinity with the concept of the string quartet – four equal parts interacting and ‘talking’ together.  It seems that as long as there have been chambers (as opposed to big halls), there has been chamber music. Let me take you up the Exe estuary. Topsham, Devon, in 1788, bustling with life and trade. Topsham was a key port with strong trading connections to places as far away as The Netherlands to the East and Newfoundland to the West.  A century and a half before this picture was painted a boy chorister at nearby Exeter Cathedral brazenly inscribed his name in the stone structure of the organ loft. It is not known why he used this spelling.  Maybe he was worried that the correct spelling, Matthew Locke, would have taken him too long to scratch in the stone; he might have got caught vandalising the building and have been severely punished.  One wonders what he was doing in the organ loft anyway.  I suppose he must have had to pump the bellows occasionally. Locke’s tutor at Exeter would have been Edward Gibbons, brother of Orlando Gibbons.  This curious little piece ‘What Strikes the Clocke?’  by Edward Gibbons, originally for three viols but here played on recorders, shows that instrumental chamber music had a place even at that time.     After his time as a chorister Locke broadened his vision considerably, travelling to...

Behind the scenes

  Greetings from Divertimento String Quartet. Lindsay and I (Andrew) had injuries to our fingers quite recently that temporarily jeopardised our playing commitments. I had a bizarre altercation with a handle of a chest of drawers that left one of my fingers lacerated and Lindsay performed impromptu involuntary surgery on a finger tip while chopping vegetables. Fortunately our digits recovered just in time for us to be able to fulfill our playing engagements. So, on the same theme of extra-musical behind the scenes trivia and in the spirit of seasonal story telling and merriment, we thought that we would share a few other pre-concert incidents that have happened over the years, just in case we have ever given the impression that our rarified artistic world is devoid of the experience of the mundane. Mary: I was playing in a concert with the English Chamber Orchestra. The soloist in the first half of the concert had been the violinist Frank Peter Zimmerman. We were chatting with him in the green room and then it was time to go back on stage for the second half of the concert. I couldn’t get my violin out of the case; somehow the lock had jammed. Frank Peter pushed his Strad into my hands and I hastened after the others to get on stage.  Every violin takes getting used to, but I enjoyed trying to control this amazing instrument. After the concert Frank Peter triumphantly held up my fiddle… as he had spent the time prising open the lock on my case with a knife that he had got from the restaurant. Lindsay: I...

Fun and games

I may have given the impression in the previous post that Haydn’s Op 76 No 4 is full of angst.  Don’t let this put you off.  There is lightness too.  Everything is in balance.   Towards the end of the last movement suddenly a melody shoots off on its own, like a cheeky schoolboy running off laughing in the playground. http://www.divertimento.uk.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/10/Game-2.mp3   How Haydn asks for it to be played is even more cheeky.  Instead of being played by one instrument, Haydn effectively challenges all four players to have a game with it, taking it in turns to play fragments of the melody.  It’s a speed jigsaw, the notes up for grabs and needing to be put in the right place at (and in) the right time. http://www.divertimento.uk.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/10/3_YouCut_20211001_074008384-1.mp4   It is a tricky game to play, but great fun.  Haydn offers so...

To be, or not to be?

Haydn’s quartet op 76 no 4 (written c. 1798) is known as ‘The Sunrise’. Sunrise? It is not a nickname attached to the quartet by Haydn himself. It is very likely that the association arose because Haydn was writing his oratorio The Creation around the time that he was writing the quartet and some people saw a relationship between the opening of the quartet and the inspired depiction of sunrise near the beginning of the oratorio. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mc4DORlzLY4 And yet…this quartet surely begins not tentatively like the first inkling of morning light but with a matter of fact held chord over which the first violin sets off on a dreamy, rising melody. Basically the chord acts as a pause, over which the violin extemporises. A pause at the beginning of a piece! What is going on? There are several pauses indicated by Haydn in Op 76 No 4 – nine in all, not including implied pauses like the opening chord. One in particular is most unusual: It is at the end of the first section of the first movement, before the usual repeat is indicated, implying a proper break in the flow of music – a settling before re-establishing that opening chord.  Sunrises don’t have pauses in my experience.  There’s surely much more going on. Looking at the opening a little closer: after the placing of the first pause-chord, the first note that the 1st violin plays is dissonant and this dissonance happens each time similar pause-chords appear in the piece. http://www.divertimento.uk.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/10/Haydn-opening-2.mp3 After the first section is repeated, the pause-chord appears again, firstly in minor mood http://www.divertimento.uk.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/10/Haydn-after-double-bar-1.mp3 followed by another...