Spellbinding performances

That such a small island like Gozo is capable of nurturing culture the way it does, especially classical music, is a never-ending source of wonder.

This interpreter showed that Schubert could make his point with the greatest of charm

I call it ‘the Gozo Miracle’ and the ones responsible for this are the people behind the team which, for the 15th consecutive year, now present the Victoria International Arts Festival (VIAF).

With its base at the basilica of St George and the adjacent Aula Mgr. G. Farrugia, the festival includes dozens of concerts that are put up towards the beginning of summer.

Most of the concerts fall within the genre of chamber music, which is admittedly not as popular as symphonic and operatic music.

However, the very essence of fine music-making lies there and one wishes that more would support these events with their presence.

The majority are always the faithful nucleus, most of whom are ex-pats with surprisingly few natives to either island.

While the accent is on experienced and mature, often world-class musicians, the VIAF also provides a platform for promising young performers especially from our islands.

Definitely a world-class duo and no newcomers to the festival are the Czech husband-and-wife team of cellist Daniel Veis and pianist Helena Veisová, whose opening offering was an arrangement of Couplets des folies d’Espagne. This is from a setting by Marin Marais of that popular theme in 32 variations, originally for the viola da gamba.

The duo swept through the set in a highly articulate whirl, often virtuoso in nature and never lacking in sharply defined contrasts. The rest of the programme consisted of two of the greatest cello sonatas in the whole repertoire. First came the second one by Brahms, in F Major, Op. 99. Here was a genuine touch of German romanticism at its peak.

The mature Brahms here is still one emboldened by youthful vigour, energy and vision and this is what was so well-projected in this performance. A lot of work was shared equally by the two instruments although the accent still remained on the cello.

The lyricism of the adagio affettuoso was offset by the dramatic nature of the opening movement and the galloping pace of the following scherzo, as in many other instances the passionate singing tone of the cello was hardly less than spellbinding.

More was to come with the Rachmaninoff Sonata in G minor, Op.19. This is a different kind of romanticism, just as personal as Brahms’s but definitely more melancholic, almost with the threat of despair and hopelessness hovering dangerously overhead. Yet, all this is couched in unbelievably lush music that, like a few other outstanding chamber pieces, is nothing less than an irresistible assault on the senses to which one succumbs gladly.

This would not have been possible were it not for the solid balanced rapport between the duo. Besides, this is also a pianists’ sonata and Veisová was exactly the one to make it work.

This great work was followed by an encore, the precocious 15-year-old Josef Suk’s Balada. To quote from Maria Frendo’s excellent note, “hearing such sublime music convinces any listener in the redemptive power of art”.

Another highlight in this 15th edition of the festival was the piano recital by David Campignon. This recital happened thanks to the invaluable support of Sonja Sinclair Stevenson, bringing for the first time (one hopes not the last) a very accomplished pianist to the festival. The varied programme he presented was not an easy one, both from the technical and idiomatic viewpoint.

No chronological order was followed and the recital began with four Preludes by Debussy. Here the pianist plunged immediately into that exotic, highly charged and often mysterious sound world peculiar to Debussy. The preludes are works in which texture varies greatly, according to mood or perception, with the title being a sort of guide.

The dreamy, misty landscape in Brouillards bore some kinship to the aqueous world of Ondine, but was separated from it by the more vigorous and even brashly colourful atmosphere of La Puerta del Vino. Supremely and superbly evocative was the way Feux d’artifice came across. When it came to some idiomatic contrast, there could not be anything better than Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in B flat Major, Op. 23, N.2 with its unashamedly lushand brilliant nature.

As for the two short Scarlatti Sonatas in D and D minor, these were straightforward, attractive and crisply performed with their harmonic interest less pronounced to modern ears than they were 250 odd years ago.

Chopin’s inevitable inclusion came along with the unique Barcarolle, Op. 60, in which so many different emotions went through a transition that developed according to bold rhythmic structure and always with Campignon’s assertive yet elegant, tasteful touch.

The latter attributes accounted for great contrast between the two sections of Chopin’s Op.22.

The andante spianato was dreamy and very nostalgic, while the Grande Polonaise Brillante had a forward drive, a stately grandeur and, at the same time, beautiful melodies.

More of the latter abound in Schubert’s great A Major Sonata, D. 959. As we all know, Schubert was the one who could make the piano sing.

It is so easy hearing those melodies gushing forth throughout the work not to sing them along in one’s head.

Yet the other side of Schubert is there too: the dramatic passages, the pathos, lyrical warmth and high passion.

Give me Schubert any time, more so by this interpreter who showed that the composer could make his point with the greatest of charm. As an encore, the pianist performed Skryabin’s Étude in C Minor.