Grade 8

 

I have set myself a new goal — to do the Grade 8 piano exam in May. Grade 8 is traditionally the highest level of performance attainment. (It actually just occurred to me that this is probably because there are eight notes in an octave. Huh.) There are a number of examination boards, the best known of which are the ABRSM (Associated Board of the Royal Schools of Music), London College of Music, Trinity Guildhall, and the RIAM (Royal Irish Academy of Music) here in Ireland. I’ve decided to go with the RIAM for this exam (although I did my other grades many years ago with the Trinity College of Music, now part of the Guildhall). I like the idea of being associated with an institution that I can visit and feel a part of. I’ve lived in Dublin for over a decade now, and I want my music qualification to reflect my subsequently altered sense of identity.

For music exams, the common format is to prepare three pieces from the syllabus. There are also scales and arpeggios to learn, a sight-reading test, and aural musicianship tests. It’s expected, too, that candidates will be able to talk about the pieces they’re playing with the examiner. At the higher grades, the three pieces are chosen from three lists that broadly reflect the main periods of musical history. I’m going to prepare Bach’s Fugue in Bb (from book 1 of “The 48”), Schubert’s Scherzo in Bb, and then something from Group C. I’m torn between a brilliant Shostakovich prelude in D and one of the most famous Chopin Nocturnes (in Eb).

I had a really enjoyable practice session yesterday working on the Bach and the Shostakovich. One of the first tasks when learning a new piece is working out the best fingering. Often a piece will have the editors suggestions marked in, but this is only ever a guide and a deeply personal part of piano playing. I made a quite a few changes to the Bach fugue edition I have. It’s a fairly knotty piece, especially the last line, which is notoriously tricky and involves lots of swapping of the hands to cover the notes smoothly. Emerging at the other end of all that work with a fingering that suits me was really satisfying, though. Now to practice, practice, practice!

Superbos!

'Called' - Bruce Herman (click for article about the artist)

Last night was the performance of Bach’s Magnificat and it was such fun. We met at the concert hall at 4.15 and went through the programme with the organist and the orchestra. We stood on the stage (five rows, I think it was, of about twenty-four singers each). In front of us were the orchestra — it’s quite a small band: double bass, cello, bassoon, chamber organ continuo, oboe/cor anglais, two flutes, triple strings (as far as I can recall) and timpani. Also not forgetting the trumpets that play such a great part in the outer movements. The choir is in five parts and there are five soloists, too, each of whom gets a solo aria.

The instruments are all given a moment to shine, too. I love the ‘Esurientes implevit bonis’ (the text of which translates as “he has filled the hungry with good things and has sent the rich away empty”) — it features a flute duet obbligato (music-speak for the fact that they play all the way through, as importantly as the vocalist) that at times trips along in thirds or sixths, and at times has the two lines tumbling over each other. Bach plays a little joke with the words at the end: the flutes stop short of the final note, leaving it to the bass instruments. Sending us away empty.

Bach dissects the text of the Magnificat (the song that the writer of Luke’s gospel ascribes to the awestruck teenage mother of God), making twelve separate movements. I was at a talk during the week by theologian Terry Eagleton and he mentioned that the lines I quoted above sound like a political chant — the sort of thing that crowds would’ve shouted in protest against a corrupt and oppressive ruling class, say.

Another musical joke (a traditional one — Durrante does the same thing in his setting of the Magnificat, which we also sang in the concert) is the use of the same music at the end of the piece as the start. The last line of the doxology (Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. AS IT WAS IN THE BEGINNING, is now, and ever shall be, world without end, Amen.) lends itself nicely to the musical task of recapitulation (music-speak for having the first tune come back at the end). And what an ending it is! All trumpets (one of them a wee piccolo trumpet, playing gloriously high, piercing through the bustling music with a high, descending chromatic line. It’s as if, for a moment, we catch sight of something amazing before getting on with the business of jubilation.

Notes tremendous thundered out

Today is St Cecilia’s Day, the patron saint of music. It’s also the day Benjamin Britten was born. One of his compositions, the ‘Ode To Saint Cecilia’ (from whence comes the title of this blog post), is a setting for unaccompanied choir of a poem that his friend WH Auden dedicated to him. We sang it in New Dublin Voices a couple of years ago and it is included on our CD, ‘Something Beginning With B’.

(The album is available to buy from the website, newdublinvoices.com, or on iTunes…)

Tonight I’m going to attend the rehearsal of the Goethe-Institut Choir. Hopefully they’ll let me sing with them in their forthcoming concert on 5 December in The National Concert Hall. They’ll be singing Bach’s setting of the Magnificat, which I fell in love with as a student in university. In the first term we (the fifty or so students in the first and second years of the BMus course) did the piece in a scratch performance just for ourselves. Our tutors told us about the various little compositional signals that Bach uses in his setting of the words of Mary’s song, and I’ll blog more about it another time. Right now I have to go and get ready. Have to make a good impression if I’m to convince them I’m up to the task!

Oh yes, and I found this charming video by the Anderson & Roe piano duo (whom I’ve written about before on this blog). Vivaldi was a near contemporary of Bach and would have probably *loved* to play a grand piano, had it been invented. Anderson & Roe achieve a delicate sound, more akin to the Baroque keyboard instrument sound, by dampening the strings of Ms Roe’s piano. Mr Anderson’s uneffected (but wonderfully affected) playing allows the piano to sing the melody as only a grand piano can. A beautiful effect from a continually interesting musical partnership.

Interesting times? Ides, say!

Blog – 1nov11

I’m writing this on the DART on my way into meet Jen—we’re going to see ‘The Ides Of March’, the trailer for which appealed to our post-‘West Wing’ longings. 

It’s mid-term break and the schools are off, so my piano teaching in Dunboyne is on hold, too. I’ve really been enjoying getting to know the students. Most are beginners, and it’s been an absolute delight guiding them on their first interactions with the instrument. The teacher at the school wants them to do a wee recital at the beginning of December, so I got a book of Christmas tunes (Eleanor Pike’s cream and red classic that my sister and I had when we were learning) and also one of graded Christmas duets. 

This week has been a dramatic one in Ireland. More rain fell in one day than usually falls in the entire month of October. We elected a new president, Michael D Higgins. And The Irish Times Crosaire crossword got a new composer, Roy Earle. Crosaire was the pseudonym of Derek Crozier, who set the cryptic puzzles for sixty-something years, and his great memory is honoured in the retention of the name and in the style and layout of the puzzles. I always shied away from the cryptic crosswords, preferring the ‘Simplex’, the Irish Times’s other long-running staple. This week, what with the excitement over the new incumbent and what not, I took the plunge and found myself utterly absorbed. And pleasingly able to not just get a few clues, but complete the puzzles (after *much* sucking of the end of my specially-purchased 2B pencil). Jen has had to put up with my excited explanations of the clues, as I elucidate Mac An Iarla’s brilliance. Not sure she’s as sold as I am!

I’m also growing a moustache. Feeling rather self-conscious about it the moment, as it still looks a bit rubbish. At least I don’t have to show it in the secondary school for another week…!

(The Ides of March is excellent, by the way. Nice, tense score by Alexandre Desplat. I particularly enjoyed the note bending in the bass part for the cue under the scene where Philip Seymour Hoffman’s character (Paul, the campaign manager) is talking to George Clooney’s Governor Morris in the stretch Chevrolet outside the barbers. Nice, unexpectedly groovy end title music, too.)

Come to His presence

I wrote the first verse of this gospel song about five years ago and added the other two verses just a few months ago. Jen and I played at my friend Peter’s wedding in All Souls, Langham Place, London a few years ago and I played this song as they signed the register. I’m pleased with this version of the chords and it’s a good key for me, too (G major). Probably a bit high for general use—it goes up to an ‘E’—but it would work well on piano in F or Eb.

Come to His presence
Come lay your cares at His feet
Come find your healing
Come and be made complete
For He is faithful and He will care for you
Draw near to God
Draw near to God

Come with your hunger
Come with that thirst in your soul
Come to His open arms
Come with those fears untold
For He is faithful and He will care for you
Draw near to God
Draw near to God

Come with your grieving
Come with the pain that you feel
Come with your broken heart
Don’t be too proud to kneel
For He is faithful and He will care for you
Draw near to God
Draw near to God

A PDF of the lyrics and chords is available on request. Please pass this on to anyone you know who you think might like it, or who’s involved in church music. If you use it, let me know 🙂

Grace and poise

This weekend, New Dublin Voices took part in a production of ‘Singin’ In The Rain’ at the National Concert Hall. It was a full week of rehearsals starting with the conductor, John Wilson, putting us through our paces on Monday evening before we went along to the full orchestral rehearsals during the week. It was a wonderful experience—I really enjoyed sitting beside the bass clarinet player, having done a lot of orchestral clarinet playing in university. Being inside the orchestra was great. John Wilson reconstructed the score, the original having been tragically consigned to landfill many years ago. (In an article I read in Classic FM magazine with John, he also sadly notes that a lot of the music libraries of the big studios were destroyed. There was nothing for it but to literally write it all out again. It must’ve been a mammoth task!) The RTÉ Concert Orchestra were augmented with a rhythm section (piano, guitar, bass, drums) and, behind us on stage, a full saxophone section. They had some really lovely moments in the score, providing that close-harmony sound that only saxes can do. Seriously, it was a real treat sitting in the middle of it all and watching the realisation of this sublime music.

Here’s the sequence from the film for ‘Moses Supposes’, which the amazing dancers did pretty much step-for-step at the NCH:

A couple of my friends posted links to this video, too. Jaw-droppingly good. Danny Macaskill is to a trail bike what Gene Kelly is to tap shoes.

Pure beauty

Nothing for weeks, and now two posts in as many minutes! Just saw that Michael McGlynn had posted this. Knowing some of the strange and awful things I’ve gotten wind of from Michael before (I’m thinking of a particularly hideous rendition of ‘O Holy Night’ from years ago… *shudder*), I confess expecting this to be in some way funny. Well, it’s not. It’s disarmingly beautiful. I’m not going to give any biography or information about the singers (because I don’t know any!). Just enjoy…

Gotye and Jacob Moon

Great/brilliant song by Belgian/Australian singer/songwriter Gotye (his spelling of the French name ‘Gaultier’). I was watching the video (posted on Facebook by my musical maven friend, Jill Deering) and thinking he looked a bit like Sting, just without the high voice. Then he rips into the chorus…! Superb stuff. I’m a big fan of Kimbra, too, who guests beguilingly on this track (the whole thing—even the stop-motion video—prompting comparisons for me with Peter Gabriel). I. Love. It.

I also found this great cover of Rush’s ‘Subdivisions’ by Jacob Moon, recorded on the rooftop of a theatre in Hamilton, Ontario (a town I *think* I visited when I was in that part of the world in August 2000—it certainly has a beautiful twilight that I remember).

Scorn Not His Simplicity

My Dad was a big fan of Phil Coulter. He was at Queen’s at the same time as Phil and liked to tell us about the time Phil locked him and a bunch of other students in a room on the campus to rehearse them! As a boy, I went to hear Phil Coulter and his orchestra a number of times—in Craigavon Leisure Centre, in the Grand Opera House at least once—and his albums were staples of family car journeys. I enjoyed his arrangements of Irish folk songs and I still remember going to Matchett’s Music in Belfast one Saturday morning to get a copy of his piano book (which I still have, complete with pencilled-in letters on ‘The Town I Loved So Well’ under the ledger line bass notes that Anna and I hadn’t learned yet). Actually, it’s through Phil Coulter that I got to know most of the tunes in the first place. Definitely a big inspiration to me. I still have a couple of signed photos somewhere with him posing at the piano in a billowy white shirt 🙂

His songs were what particularly made an impression on me. He started his songwriting career at a run, penning a Eurovision winner and a one-point-off-the-top runner-up at a time when doing so meant that, (a) it was a good song, and (b) they were destined to be massive hits. Check out his website for more of his story—it’s very readable, clearly written by him, and filled with loads of stories about the amazing career he’s enjoyed.

I was prompted to write this today by one song in particular, though, ‘Scorn Not His Simplicity’. Written from Phil’s personal experience, this song was first introduced to the world by the wonderful Luke Kelly. Here’s a lovely, intimate recording from a Tallaght pub in 1974:

Today parents, teachers, pupils, Special Needs Assistants and others are taking to the street outside the Dáil here in Dublin to protest the cutting of funding for SNAs. Listen to this song and let your heart go out to them.

Kimbra

This is quite cool indeed—a speeded-up view of what goes into making a music video. Watch this and then the finished version of this catchy tune, ‘Cameo Lover’, by New Zealander Kimbra. Her album will be out in August and it’s looking like it’ll be a cracker.

performance, teaching, composition & reviews