A look at what is happening in the world of the arts.
David Adams (organ)
St Michael's, DúLaoghaire
Buxtehude - Prelude, Fugue and Ciacona in C BuxWV137. Tomkins - A Grounde. Stephen Montague - Behold a Pale Horse. Buxtehude - Passacaglia in D minor BuxWV161. Messiaen - Combat de la mort et de la vie. Bach - Passacaglia in C minor BWV582
The 32nd annual series of organ recitals at St Michael's Church ended with inspired programming and playing to match. David Adams explained that his choice of music was shaped by the idea of time as the marker of life and death. Passacaglias and chaconnes by Buxtehude and Bach formed the programme's outer and central pillars, between which we heard two 20th-century works inspired by apocalyptic visions, and an astonishing ground bass by Tomkins.
The conceptual gulf between this pre- and post-Enlightenment music was underlined by Adams's impeccable elucidation of stylistic and expressive contrasts. In Buxtehude and Bach, a steadily repeated ostinato marks passing time. Variation and elaboration reflect the cosmic progress that God, in time, will bring to an end.
On the other hand, the American-born composer Stephen Montague, and even the Catholic Messiaen, were inspired by the end itself. If the concepts behind the earlier music seem somehow objective, the modern works are defined by a personal imagination rooted not in inevitable events, but in the composers' responses to images.
Montague's Behold a Pale Horse (1991) is a virtuosic rollercoaster, blending romantic expression, grinding dissonance and the repetitions of minimalism. On the surface, Messian's Combat de la Mort et de la Vie (1938) seems the more faith-inspired work, but its contemplative sensuality is driven not by the forthcoming event, but by the feelings it aroused in the composer. Between these disconcerting pieces, Adams made Buxtehude's Passacaglia in D minor BuxWV161 a confident interlude, partly through some unusually quiet registration. Ending with Bach's Passacaglia in C minor BWV582 seemed as inevitable musically as it was conceptually. Is there any piece of organ music better than this?
Martin Adams
Zilliacus, Forsberg
John Field Room, NCH, Dublin
Mozart - Sonata in B flat K454. Mika Pelo - Williamsburg Songs. Messiaen - Thème et Variations. Fauré - Sonata in A
This violin and piano recital at the NCH John Field Room was an occasion of firsts. It marked the Dublin debut of two Swedish performers, Cecilia Zilliacus and Bengt Forsberg. Zilliacus, in her early 30s and with a growing international reputation, is still a relatively unfamiliar name. Forsberg, 20 years her senior, is well known as the regular pianist of mezzo soprano Anne Sofie von Otter.
This was also the occasion of the world premiere of Williamsburg Songs by fellow Swede Mika Pelo (born 1971), whose music as far as I've been able to ascertain has never been heard in Ireland before.
There were no programme notes for the event, and Forsberg's short spoken introduction to the new work offered no hint as to the relevance of the title. The music itself was often fantastical in mood, with florid melodic lines, like swirls of a lavishly decorative spray that was calculated to create effects of glitter and sparkle.
What was most interesting on a first hearing was the way in which gestures that were once the province of the avant-garde were here pliably exploited by a sensibility that sounded decidedly romantic. That effect may have had something to do with the character of the two performers. In the opening sonata, Forsberg showed himself to be an often lusciously indulgent, sometimes wilful interpreter of what he described as the "grandiose" sonata by Mozart. And Zilliacus, rather lean in tone and more reserved in manner, also pulled at the Mozart in ways that were not to its advantage.
The two French works of the second half are both early pieces from long careers: Fauré's Sonata in A, completed at the age of 31 (10 years before César Franck's more famous sonata in the same key), and the 24-year-old Messiaen's Thème et Variations, already full of characteristic inflections and colour. It was the Messiaen that responded best to Zilliacus and Forsberg's urgent playing.
Michael Dervan
John Legend
Vicar Street, Dublin
The struggle between the secular and the spiritual has always made for great soul music and John Legend knows all about that. Church-schooled in Pentecostal choirs in Ohio and Philadelphia, the young John Stephens kept out of devilment by keeping God on his side. These days, the problems he has to deal with come from being a rising star selling a blockbuster debut album and playing to packed rooms worldwide.
The spiritual side to Legend's music is still there in spades (not least when the Dublin Gospel Choir come onstage for some numbers), but there are other more worldly issues to deal with. When he groans, "Man, you've got body for days" about the girl he's checking out on Alright, Legend sounds like the great Sam Cooke, another soul man who knew all about troubles of this kind.
With only one album, Legend has some way to go to stand among the greats, but he's got the chops and aptitude for the job. Tonight is a masterclass in soulful grandstanding, as Legend showcases every magnificent inch of his Get Lifted album with a panache that only comes with practice.
His fine backing band add a liquid funk flow to the sound. Legend learned his trade on the solo piano jazz club circuit, and so he is now happy to exploit the advantages a full band brings to his sound. They occasionally sound somewhat sterile and sleek compared with the purity of Legend's gospel tones, but the weight they add to songs such as Used to Love You and Number One or a cover of Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood is considerable. Band and singer probably click best on Live It Up, a Marvin Gaye-like, graceful, jazzy groove. There are delights at every turn. When he plays a selection of hits by Jay-Z, Kanye West and Alicia Keys, which featured his velvet tones, Legend's not so much showing off a star-studded CV as pinching himself about his good fortune. Support act Estelle appears onstage to duet on a sunny Hey Girl and the gospel choir adds a flourish of hallelujahs to a stunning, charged I Can Change. Soul's roll-call of the greats may soon have a new addition.
Jim Carroll
