MAR.
4 -- MIXED
MESSAGES, Betty Bonifassi’s Chansons d’esclaves, chansons
d’espoir, at L’Astral
Once
you hear the voice, you cannot forget it; you cannot mistake
it for another. That one’s voice becomes a trademark, a stamp
of authenticity, is perhaps one of the greatest compliments
to be paid a vocalist. Betty Bonifassi has such a voice. Filled
with unbridled power, raw emotion and great range, the singer
has long been recognized for her voice and for her creative
collaborations at home and abroad. Last Saturday’s performance
at L’Astral on closing night of Montréal en Lumière -- La Nuit
Blanche -- showcased Bonifassi’s latest solo endeavour, Chansons
d’esclaves, chansons d’espoir, which seeks to reinterpret
early slave songs.
The album is inspired by the pioneering work of ethnomusicologist
Alan Lomax, who amassed a seminal archive of American, European
and Caribbean folk music. Alan followed in his folklorist and
musicologist father, John A. Lomax’s footsteps, who spent much
of his academic career in the early 1910s travelling across
the Deep South recording folk music of marginalized communities,
black and white alike. His recording of the chants of black
prison chain gangs -- as yet unaffected by jazz and blues due
to their isolation -- seemed most closely to resemble early
slave songs, and forms an important contribution to modern understandings
of the roots of blues, gospel and soul.
Backed by a trio of musicians -- a power bassist, rock drummer
and keyboardist/DJ -- Bonifassi aimed to perform a breakout
show that marked a departure from her earlier projects. While
the acoustics of L’Astral should have been perfect for her propos,
the venue proved entirely insufficient for the powerful sound
the band unleashed. Though well played, the over-amplified,
distorted lead bass along with the heavy percussion ensured
that any other instrumentation except Bonifassi’s strong vocals
would be lost in the wall of sound.
Subject matter and delivery therefore made odd bedfellows. While
Bonifassi’s album purports to pay homage to the power and endurance
of songs of suffering, her reinterpretation took 'power' as
her main cue. The music itself delved into elements of funk,
hip hop and even punk creating an angry edge that drowned out
the truly primal, stoic, power of her vocals. Many numbers began
with solo vocals and very simple, almost mantra like rhythms,
which were then overlaid by a variety of genres, seemingly applied
without much reflection.
In her introductions, Bonifassi demonstrated deep understanding
and appreciation of her subject matter. She mentioned texts
she had read and source material she had listened to that formed
the basis of her project. In her vocals, also, she demonstrated
the slow steady rhythm punctuated by the deep suffering and
resilience of what could have been Negro voices singing in the
fields. The essence of these songs was there in the voice and
expression, vividly evoked and boldly presented. This made the
performance all the more confusing, as though she had lost her
direction, perhaps slipping into more familiar patterns that
define her past work. The show became, in essence, a master
class on the difference between theory and practice. Unperturbed
by the contradictions displayed in the performance, the audience
mostly seemed to get what they paid for: a powerful, energetic
rock show of a Betty Bonifassi they know and love.
Ultimately, Betty Bonifassi’s most recent work is one of reinterpretation
not paraphrasing. As such, she is free to interpret as she pleases
and, obviously, she pleased a great deal. There were many factors
that contributed to the problems with the performance, not least
of which were, the venue and sound engineering. Distilled down
to core elements, Saturday’s performance amply demonstrated
Bonifassi’s ability to tap deeply into her source material and
vocalize its power and rhythms. Unfortunately, many other factors
then diluted and diffused this essence so that only a very tenuous
link remained. Sometimes -- very often indeed -- less is ever
so much more.
MAR.
4 -- BEING
HARRY MANX, Harry Manx Solo
at Le Gèsu
Le
Gèsu is a funny place. It feels like a church basement, because
it actually is one. With the severe mass of the imposing Jesuit
church above, perpetually present through its massive supporting
stone pillars planted in the amphitheatre and flanking the stage,
it is definitely a unique venue. It also could not have been
a better venue for the ineffable Harry Manx who visited this
year’s Montréal en Lumière for a solo performance.
Manx took the stage with unassuming humility and took up his
favoured Mohan veena without much fanfare. This modified 20-string
Archtop guitar was invented by his teacher, Indian slide guitar
legend, Vishwa Mohan Bhatt. It is Manx’s core instrument and
speaks to a lifetime of experience and learning. Manx is, above
all, a widely renowned slide guitarist and blues artist whose
work is informed by years spent living in India and studying
its classical music.
This blend of traditions may, at first, seem unlikely. However,
both express at once, deeply personal and universal, lived experiences
of the beauty and ugliness of the world. Anchored jointly by
the blues and Indian raga -- a core form of classical Indian
music -- his music intertwines these to create poignant, contemplative
and sincere music.
Manx has the stage presence of a master yogi. Though not in
any way verbose, he does enter into short monologues about himself
and his music. He lovingly introduced his guitars over the course
of the first few numbers as if the artist was merely a conduit
for the potential of the instrument. In between numbers, he
also read out questions sent to him by fans and answered with
witty humorous anecdotes, which often touched on the philosophical.
This solo show was obviously an event Montréal fans had been
waiting for and Manx did not disappoint a mostly middle aged
audience perfectly tuned to his musings and dry wit. Choosing
crowd pleasers from a variety of albums with only a few instrumentals,
Manx made sure to pay homage to heroes J.J. Cale, with his excellent
rendition of “Tijuana,” and an absolutely mesmerising “A Love
Supreme” by John Coltrane.
Though relatively short, spanning some 90 minutes including
a reasonably lengthy intermission and two encore songs, the
evening felt like a communion between Manx and his audience.
While nominally touring in support of his new work, 20 Strings
and the Truth, the performance seemed anything but promotional.
Manx honoured his audience by taking them on a musical journey
of his oeuvre with a respect and reverence for the music and
the life experience that informs it.
Feb.
25 -- MOLIÈRE
RELOADED: THÉÂTRE DU RIDEAU VERT’S THE MISANTHROPE, Michel
Monty
Molière,
like Shakespeare, is perfectly suited to reinterpretation. Though
systems change along with ideologies, human nature remains,
often working to confound and explode our more 'refined' pretensions.
And so Molière, like the Bard, mercilessly satirizes our essential
humanity, drawing out the eternal paradoxes
that resonate across the ages, whether at a royal court, a parliament
house or a dinner party at the in-laws’.
Enter one of Molière’s great anti-heroes: Alceste (François
Papineau). Sickened by the moral failings of the French aristocracy,
he lashes out against politesse, insisting on utter frankness
as a salve for the hypocrisy of others. He longs for a nobler
world where truth, genuine affection and honesty reign. In short,
he drives himself to distraction by the faults of others without
necessarily examining his own too closely.
The core of Molière’s comedy lies in the complex courtship
of Célimène (Bénédicte Décary) who is the object of Alceste’s
affection. Though he worships and adores her, Célimène’s
tacit acceptance of, and participation in, élite Parisian society
is as distasteful to him as is the presence of his rivals, Oronte
(Stéphane Jacques), Acaste (Luc Bourgeois) and Clitandre (Frédéric
Pierre). While he demonizes them for their vacuous hypocrisy
and ulterior motives, his own are not so pure; he means to get
rid of them out of jealousy and possessiveness. Hypocrisy becomes
the white elephant in the room, which everyone but Alceste seems
to accept.
The cast is very good indeed, with frequent flashes of brilliance.
Nuanced delivery beautifully animates Molière’s verse
and succeeds in imbuing the poetry with a conversational quality
that is a joy to experience. Papineau
and Décary are great in their lovers’ duels, with Décary
often coming out on top with her range of expression. Regrettably,
Papineau’s over-focus on Alceste’s anger tends to
flatten his character in contrast with other cast members, who
better evoke the more sinister dimensions of their characters.
Stéphane Jacques’ Oronte shows glimmers of menacing malevolence
that are a pleasure to behold. Likewise, Isabelle Vincent is
very good as self-righteous Arsinoé and even better when she
bears her fangs of envy and ill will. Luc Bourgeois plays the
marquis Acaste with a deliciously self-assured petulance. It
is understandable then, that David Savard’s overly subdued
Philinte, and Frédéric Pierre’s all-too-phlegmatic Clitandre
appear somewhat flat alongside other performances.
The Parisian salon is transposed to a luxurious loft in Montréal’s
Old Port, whose inspired interior beautifully mixes styles to
reference Louis XIV opulence within a sleek modernity. Consequently,
set design and costumes make hilariously ironic statements that
otherwise would have been lost in a period production. Finally,
while pushing the comic aspects of Molière’s characters
to the forefront, director Michel Monty never allows the comedy
to devolve into farce thus creating razor-sharp satire that
is ever so poignant. Together, Théatre du Rideau Vert and Michel
Monty do Molière great justice. Do not miss Le Misanthrope,
which finishes its run on February 28th, 2015.
http://www.rideauvert.qc.ca/
FEB
19-- SOIRÉES
CLASSIQUES DE MONTRÉAL EN LUMIÈRE : LUMINOUS EMMANUEL AX PERFORMS
BRAHMS , OSM & Kent Nagano, conductor
Emmanuel Ax, piano
Brahms Piano Concerto No.1 in D minor Op.15
Emmanuel
Ax returns to Montréal to perform Brahms’ Piano Concerto
No. 1 in D minor -- a work he first performed here in 1997
under the baton of Charles Dutoit. Thursday’s concert
at La Maison symphonique was the third of a trio of concerts
featuring Ax on solo piano, and also marked the inaugural evening
of the Montréal
en Lumière
festival. The orchestra opened with an homage to Switzerland
-- the featured country for the 2015 edition -- performing a
bombastic Overture to Rossini’s William Tell,
and following up with a beautiful interpretation of Mendelssohn’s
Reformation” Symphony No. 5 in D minor. With
no intermission separating the three pieces on the programme,
the orchestra should be admired for their 60 minutes of near
continuous performance.
Brahms’
veneration of Bach and Beethoven, in particular, is evident
in the structure of his compositions especially in his virtuoso
use of counterpoint. Though he is known as an innovator in the
Romantic tradition of experiment with melodic and harmonic styles,
his insistence on highly disciplined musical structures was
often criticized by his contemporaries. Considered by many as
one of the late 20th century’s eminent interpreters of
Brahms’ First Piano Concerto, Emmanuel Ax is recognized
as having popularized the concerto in North America.
The
1st movement, Maestoso, seemed apprehensive at first, as if
Maestro Nagano was wilfully holding the orchestra back. While
the strings beautifully set out the brooding theme ahead of
the piano’s entry, the early part of the movement seemed
to trudge along like an impatient horse being bridled too hard.
Surely the usually excellent solo horn and trumpet are not thrilled
with themselves for faltering ever so slightly in their first
meetings with Ax. These unfortunate details aside, it was at
once evident that Ax is master of this concerto. His deft touch,
almost too light in some places, was utterly confident, anticipating
the orchestra with near impatience through the movement’s
early sections. Ax’s sense of gravity and drama gave a
slower, more contemplative note to the tumultuous opening. By
mid-movement, however, pianist and orchestra appeared to have
worked out whatever misgivings each had about the other and
the thunderous finale was harmonious, and its dialogue between
solo instrument and ensemble, captivating.
Undoubtedly
the highlight of the evening, the 2nd movement, Adagio, was
an absolute triumph. Here the orchestra truly settled into its
excellent form, matching note for note the virtuosity, subtlety
and pacing of Ax’s piano. While the winds and horns had
plenty of work all evening long, the strings were truly breathtaking
in their interplay with the piano. Although tempo is often a
matter of interpretation (within limits) the Adagio in Brahms’
No.1 lends itself towards over-interpretation with heavy-handed
acceleration and deceleration at the end of phrases where piano
and orchestra trade places of dominance. Ax and Nagano, on the
other hand, held a disciplined tempo that carried the melodic
themes over the breaks and changes, ultimately creating a sublime
expressive arc from beginning to end.
For
those unfamiliar with Brahms’ No.1, the Rondo: Allegro
non troppo may be (in this reviewer’s opinion), one of
the most interesting and powerful movements in all of Romantic
music. It is in the last movement that Ax’s relation to
the concerto as a whole became evident, at once resolving and
putting into context the questionable tempo of the 1st movement.
For Ax, it seems, the tempestuous nature of the 1st and 3rd
movements needs tempering lest the music overwhelm both soloist
and orchestra alike. The slower pacing of the Maestoso is therefore
intended and helps establish a logic that preserves the integrity
of the concerto as a whole. Ax and Nagano’s allegro continued
the restrained dynamics of the inspired 2nd movement into the
3rd. This magnificently articulated tension was finally allowed
to break in a spectacular and thrilling climax so richly deserving
of the thunderous applause that exploded the instant the final
notes died.