A trio of pre-Yuletide treats
December 3, 2001 | 12:00am
In a city where classical concerts are as rare as crooked cops, three such concerts within a single week is an embarrassment of riches. More of the same may convince a cynical moonlighting critic that we are not living in the musical backwaters of the civilized world after all.
The first of these concerts was that of the Philippine Philharmonic Orchestra, led by its resident conductor Maestro Cecinio Ronquillo, at the CCP Main Theater. The affair was the first of a series billed as a "Children’s Festival."
Only a few seats in the orchestra were occupied – mostly by old timers, a few of them with youngsters in tow – when the PPO opened the concert with the Toy Symphony, attributed to Franz Joseph Haydn (1732-1809). The work is certain to hold the attention of children, who generally have a short span of concentration, because of its use of toy instruments and noise-makers: penny trumpet, quail call, rattle, cuckoo, screeching owl, whistle, a little drum, and a miniature triangle.
The next number was The Carnival of the Animals by Camille Saint-Saëns (1835-1921). A musical menagerie, intended by the composer only for family and friends, the work was not to be published or presented to the public – with the exemption of "The Swan," which became an instant hit – until after the composer’s death.
The suite, scored for two pianos and orchestra, consists of 14 short movements, which exploit the resources of various instrumental timbres to imitate the sounds of different species – the lion, hens and cocks, wild asses, tortoises, the elephant, kangaroos, fishes in an aquarium , the cuckoo, birds in an aviary, and the swan. Add to this zoo Saint-Saëns’ private jokes: fossils (a dig at music critics?) and pianists pounding the C-Major on the keyboard in comic imitation of music students learning their craft. He also parodies Offenbach in "Tortoises," where the wild furious can-can from Orpheus in the Underworld is reduced to a sluggish pace, Berlioz in "The Elephant," the melody of which is lifted from "The Waltz of the Sylphs" from The Damnation of Faust, Rossini in "Fossils," with a few bars from Il Barbiere di Siviglia, and the composer himself with the themes from his own Dance Macabre, in which the xylophone suggests the sounds of dancing skeletons.
Maestro Ronquillo and the PPO were less than careful with timing in the orchestral blasts in "Fossils," a couple of which were less than in perfect unison.
Filmer Catalino Flores worked wonders on the first piano, his steely fingers darting, leaping or dancing across the keyboard, as the score required, with secure mastery, as Naomi Paz Sison did whatever she could on the second piano. Cellist Renato Lucas delivered a soulful account of "The Swan" – easily the high point of the first half of the concert.
After the intermission, the orchestra was suddenly filled with young people. No, they didn’t look like they had been herded from Payatas or any such depressed area. They were dressed decently and behaved properly and did not break into a riot when teen-age celebrity and nymphet Cris Villonco came onstage as narrator of Peter and the Wolf by Sergei Prokofiev (1891-1953).
The work is a fine example of narrative-literary music, the term used by Leonard Bernstein to apply to instrumental or orchestral music employed to tell a story.
Tone, by itself, cannot be used for narration. Prokofiev’s brilliant and vivid orchestration, Cris’ somewhat self-conscious but, nevertheless, charming reading of the tale do help, and the listener’s imagination did the rest.
The strings carry Peter’s theme when he wanders into the fields. The warbling of the Bird on the flute (Enrique Barcelo) and the quacking of the Duck on the oboe (Rizalino Garcia) follow the boy. The meowing of the Cat on the clarinet (Ariel Sta. Ana) warns the Bird of danger, and it perches on the upper branch of a tree at the edge of the woods. A greater danger to Peter and company is heard in the forest. The Wolf on the horns (Vicente Galang and Friends) pounces on the hapless Duck and swallows it alive. Hunters on the drums (Leodivino Roque) come in answer to Peter’s call for help and instantly do the Wolf in, much to the Grandfather’s relief on the bassoon (Severino Ramirez).
I imagine that some dumb kid in the audience might have been wondering if this Big Bad Wolf weren’t the same creature that did in Little Red Riding Hood’s grandma. If the creature didn’t get its come-uppance in the old nursery tale, well, it certainly did in this one!
The concert concluded with Mga Katutubong Awitin by Lucio San Pedro (1913- ) and Saranggola ni Pepe by Ryan Cayabyab (1954- ), both of which required neither annotation nor critical judgment, and which Maestro Ronquillo and the PPO delivered without much ado.
The second pre-Christmas treat was the recital at the Francisco Santiago Hall of tenor Leodigario del Rosario, with pianist Prof. Regalado Jose.
Cursing the city’s insufferable early-evening traffic, I missed the first few numbers of the program including one of my favorites, Henri Duparc’s "L’Invitation au Voyage." I did get to hear two lieder by Richard Strauss and the three songs by Lucio San Pedro before the five-minute intermission.
What followed after was a veritable aural feast seven – yes, seven – operatic arias that would test the staying power of even the most experienced singer: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s "Dies Bildnis ist Bezaubernd schön" from The Magic Flute, Georges Bizet’s Flower Song from Carmen, Charles Gounod’s "Salut! Demeure, chaste et pure" from Faust, Giuseppe Verdi’s "La donna e mobile" from Rigoletto and Giacomo Puccini’s "Addio fiorito asil" from Madama Butterfly, "Che gelida manina" from La Bohème and "Nessun dorma" from Turandot.
The fact that Del Rosario delivered them with ease might have given the impression that he was wanting in feeling, which he was not. I have been following his career, since his studies under his first mentor Dr. Tony Hila and his professors at the UP College of Music, and I have been impressed by his steady growth.
Now, after receiving his Artist’s Diploma in Vocal Performance at the Cleveland Institute of Music and numerous performances in operatic productions in leading roles in Cleveland and other cities in the United States, his future in the world of opera is assured.
It was also gratifying to hear Prof. Regalado Jose again on the piano. He remains the country’s most respected accompanist. His having been honored in 1991 as a Gintong Ama in Arts and Culture is well deserved.
And the third event was the recital at the CCP Little Theater of soprano Maria Cristina Viguilla-Navarro, with assisting artists J. Greg Zuniega (piano), Antonio Maigue (flute), Ludovico Mendoza (oboe), and Ely Bautista (violin).
This was one concert that took the listener’s breath away – in more sense than one.
The opening number was Mozart’s "L’amero, saro costante" from Il Re Pastore, which is not exactly a limbering up exercise. Then, immediately followed the same composer’s heart-stopping aria by the Queen of the Night "Der Holle rache..." from The Magic Flute, with its rapid runs up and down the scale, which simply took – what else? – one’s breath away.
The following numbers offered no respite from Ms. Viguilla-Navarro’s relentless assault on her vocal chords and the listener’s capacity to take an excess of melismas and cadenzas, such that the listener was urged to cry out like the Jewish mother, "All right, all right, I’m impressed. Enough already!"
The problem here was in programming. One begged for less tension and more moments of repose.
After the young soprano’s last number, Cunegonde’s aria from Leonard Bernstein’s Candide, "Glitter and be gay," she obliged the clamor of her audience with two encores, a stunning rendition of the Doll Song from Jacques Offenbach’s The Tales of Hoffmann and a Filipino song, which was plainly anti-climactic.
In his masterpiece, Faust, Goethe said that the worst sin is satisfaction. When one, like the artist, is satisfied, he seizes to grow and that is his damnation. Perfection may be unattainable, but if the artist – singer or instrumentalist – keeps on aspiring for higher and ever higher levels of excellence, therein lies his salvation.
For comments, write to jessqcruz@hotmail.com.
The first of these concerts was that of the Philippine Philharmonic Orchestra, led by its resident conductor Maestro Cecinio Ronquillo, at the CCP Main Theater. The affair was the first of a series billed as a "Children’s Festival."
Only a few seats in the orchestra were occupied – mostly by old timers, a few of them with youngsters in tow – when the PPO opened the concert with the Toy Symphony, attributed to Franz Joseph Haydn (1732-1809). The work is certain to hold the attention of children, who generally have a short span of concentration, because of its use of toy instruments and noise-makers: penny trumpet, quail call, rattle, cuckoo, screeching owl, whistle, a little drum, and a miniature triangle.
The next number was The Carnival of the Animals by Camille Saint-Saëns (1835-1921). A musical menagerie, intended by the composer only for family and friends, the work was not to be published or presented to the public – with the exemption of "The Swan," which became an instant hit – until after the composer’s death.
The suite, scored for two pianos and orchestra, consists of 14 short movements, which exploit the resources of various instrumental timbres to imitate the sounds of different species – the lion, hens and cocks, wild asses, tortoises, the elephant, kangaroos, fishes in an aquarium , the cuckoo, birds in an aviary, and the swan. Add to this zoo Saint-Saëns’ private jokes: fossils (a dig at music critics?) and pianists pounding the C-Major on the keyboard in comic imitation of music students learning their craft. He also parodies Offenbach in "Tortoises," where the wild furious can-can from Orpheus in the Underworld is reduced to a sluggish pace, Berlioz in "The Elephant," the melody of which is lifted from "The Waltz of the Sylphs" from The Damnation of Faust, Rossini in "Fossils," with a few bars from Il Barbiere di Siviglia, and the composer himself with the themes from his own Dance Macabre, in which the xylophone suggests the sounds of dancing skeletons.
Maestro Ronquillo and the PPO were less than careful with timing in the orchestral blasts in "Fossils," a couple of which were less than in perfect unison.
Filmer Catalino Flores worked wonders on the first piano, his steely fingers darting, leaping or dancing across the keyboard, as the score required, with secure mastery, as Naomi Paz Sison did whatever she could on the second piano. Cellist Renato Lucas delivered a soulful account of "The Swan" – easily the high point of the first half of the concert.
After the intermission, the orchestra was suddenly filled with young people. No, they didn’t look like they had been herded from Payatas or any such depressed area. They were dressed decently and behaved properly and did not break into a riot when teen-age celebrity and nymphet Cris Villonco came onstage as narrator of Peter and the Wolf by Sergei Prokofiev (1891-1953).
The work is a fine example of narrative-literary music, the term used by Leonard Bernstein to apply to instrumental or orchestral music employed to tell a story.
Tone, by itself, cannot be used for narration. Prokofiev’s brilliant and vivid orchestration, Cris’ somewhat self-conscious but, nevertheless, charming reading of the tale do help, and the listener’s imagination did the rest.
The strings carry Peter’s theme when he wanders into the fields. The warbling of the Bird on the flute (Enrique Barcelo) and the quacking of the Duck on the oboe (Rizalino Garcia) follow the boy. The meowing of the Cat on the clarinet (Ariel Sta. Ana) warns the Bird of danger, and it perches on the upper branch of a tree at the edge of the woods. A greater danger to Peter and company is heard in the forest. The Wolf on the horns (Vicente Galang and Friends) pounces on the hapless Duck and swallows it alive. Hunters on the drums (Leodivino Roque) come in answer to Peter’s call for help and instantly do the Wolf in, much to the Grandfather’s relief on the bassoon (Severino Ramirez).
I imagine that some dumb kid in the audience might have been wondering if this Big Bad Wolf weren’t the same creature that did in Little Red Riding Hood’s grandma. If the creature didn’t get its come-uppance in the old nursery tale, well, it certainly did in this one!
The concert concluded with Mga Katutubong Awitin by Lucio San Pedro (1913- ) and Saranggola ni Pepe by Ryan Cayabyab (1954- ), both of which required neither annotation nor critical judgment, and which Maestro Ronquillo and the PPO delivered without much ado.
Cursing the city’s insufferable early-evening traffic, I missed the first few numbers of the program including one of my favorites, Henri Duparc’s "L’Invitation au Voyage." I did get to hear two lieder by Richard Strauss and the three songs by Lucio San Pedro before the five-minute intermission.
What followed after was a veritable aural feast seven – yes, seven – operatic arias that would test the staying power of even the most experienced singer: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s "Dies Bildnis ist Bezaubernd schön" from The Magic Flute, Georges Bizet’s Flower Song from Carmen, Charles Gounod’s "Salut! Demeure, chaste et pure" from Faust, Giuseppe Verdi’s "La donna e mobile" from Rigoletto and Giacomo Puccini’s "Addio fiorito asil" from Madama Butterfly, "Che gelida manina" from La Bohème and "Nessun dorma" from Turandot.
The fact that Del Rosario delivered them with ease might have given the impression that he was wanting in feeling, which he was not. I have been following his career, since his studies under his first mentor Dr. Tony Hila and his professors at the UP College of Music, and I have been impressed by his steady growth.
Now, after receiving his Artist’s Diploma in Vocal Performance at the Cleveland Institute of Music and numerous performances in operatic productions in leading roles in Cleveland and other cities in the United States, his future in the world of opera is assured.
It was also gratifying to hear Prof. Regalado Jose again on the piano. He remains the country’s most respected accompanist. His having been honored in 1991 as a Gintong Ama in Arts and Culture is well deserved.
This was one concert that took the listener’s breath away – in more sense than one.
The opening number was Mozart’s "L’amero, saro costante" from Il Re Pastore, which is not exactly a limbering up exercise. Then, immediately followed the same composer’s heart-stopping aria by the Queen of the Night "Der Holle rache..." from The Magic Flute, with its rapid runs up and down the scale, which simply took – what else? – one’s breath away.
The following numbers offered no respite from Ms. Viguilla-Navarro’s relentless assault on her vocal chords and the listener’s capacity to take an excess of melismas and cadenzas, such that the listener was urged to cry out like the Jewish mother, "All right, all right, I’m impressed. Enough already!"
The problem here was in programming. One begged for less tension and more moments of repose.
After the young soprano’s last number, Cunegonde’s aria from Leonard Bernstein’s Candide, "Glitter and be gay," she obliged the clamor of her audience with two encores, a stunning rendition of the Doll Song from Jacques Offenbach’s The Tales of Hoffmann and a Filipino song, which was plainly anti-climactic.
In his masterpiece, Faust, Goethe said that the worst sin is satisfaction. When one, like the artist, is satisfied, he seizes to grow and that is his damnation. Perfection may be unattainable, but if the artist – singer or instrumentalist – keeps on aspiring for higher and ever higher levels of excellence, therein lies his salvation.
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