Showing Up & Showing Out

A Reflection on Soundscapes II.

Showing Up & Showing Out

A Reflection on Soundscapes II.

 

I gave it a day or two to settle. I’m still buzzing.

On Sunday, October 5, at 7PM, the University of The Bahamas music faculty presented a fascinating concert under the banner of the Frederick W. Fleisher Memorial Concert Series at Christ Church Cathedral in downtown Nassau. I was present, and before I really became aware of what I was doing, I was taking notes. It was the kind of evening I had to respond to in writing. It was that good. I shall share some of my reflections on highlights of the evening.

The evening began with flute professor Dr. Christine Gangelhoff performing the Concertino for Flute (Op. 107) by Cécile Chaminade, accompanied by Dr. Paul Jones. I consider Christine a friend, and have heard her perform any number of times, but at Soundscapes II, she was a revelation.

I struggle with deciding whether to respond to these things on a technical level or an artistic one, since often the two are not entirely in harmony, but Christine’s performance was technically flawless, navigating the lush French harmonies effortlessly. The pyrotechnics played cheek-by-jowl with absolutely gorgeous tone, leading one steadily deeper into Chaminade’s soundscape with grace and delicacy. Chaminade – who one of my favorite opera composers (Ambroise Thomas, “Hamlet” and “Mignon”) noted “was not a woman who composed, but was a composer who was a woman” and also the first female composer awarded the prestigious Légion d'Honneur – weaves a tapestry of enticing beauty, harmonizing the flautist’s supple lyricism on the one hand, and providing almost Bach-like counterpoint on the other. Christine navigated it all with such ease and style. As we say in the opera world, Brava diva!

And speaking of revelations, at Soundscapes II I was privileged to hear for the first time Dr. Terry Lynn Hudson, a veteran concertizer, recording artist and professor for 29 years at Baylor University who joined the UB faculty in 2024. Having heard her interpretation of Ravel and Chabrier, I can state categorically that UB has lucked out tremendously in landing this amazing performer as a resource for our developing musicians.

Dr. Hudson brought the birds in Ravel’s Oiseaux tristes (Sad Birds) from Miroirs, Ravel’s five-movement suite for solo piano, to exquisite life. Oiseaux tristes represents a lone bird whistling a sad tune, after which others join in. A rambunctious middle section is offset by a solemn cadenza which brings back the melancholy mood of the beginning. Listening to Dr. Hudson’s almost liquid playing of Ravel’s typical suspended harmonies evoke loneliness, melancholy, drama and playfulness, I – and those others lucky enough to be in the room – were transported. Truly splendid. (I’d listened to Jean-Yves Thibaudet’s recording of this piece while immersing myself in French music of the early 20th Century while studying composition at Oral Roberts University, and to my ears, Dr. Hudson’s playing was more supple, more dynamic. A matter of interpretation, of course, but nonetheless, I feel I got the better deal being in the room! That ending! Such longing!)

I have seen the Improvisation, by Emmanuel Chabrier, described as “the most rhythmically and harmonically complex work from Chabrier's 10 Pieces Pittoresque.” The bewitching melody starts with fairylike simplicity and immediately we see where the title comes from, as iteration after mesmerizing iteration build to a dramatic explosion. Dr. Hudson’s handling of this journey was so assured and masterful that I listened almost in a trance. It was such amazing fun! Technical perfection and artistic exuberance in one performance. I cannot wait to hear her perform again.

Those who attend the Cathedral will know Cathy Jirjahlke’s beautiful renditions of church hymns on the violin or her organ playing, but at Soundscape II, Cathy performed! She played an old favourite of many, the Monti Czardas, and I could see the dancing heads and knees in the audience as she brought us along on the swirling rumpus of that dance. The Hungarian csárdás, on which the Monti piece is based, is a dance characterized by a slow beginning and a rapid, whirling finish. Cathy navigated the intervals with panache, and it was a joy to hear: her performance pleased the crowd tremendously, and it was such a pleasure to hear her as a performer, in addition to a worship partner.

Another new experience for me was hearing woodwinds instructor Dr. Alexandra Chea  present the Prelude: Andante pastorale, and Summer, from Paul Reade’s Suite from The Victorian Kitchen Garden. It was a piece with which I was wholly unfamiliar but with which I immediately fell in love! What I felt from listening to the prelude in particular was such profound peace. Even the minor development section was more reflective than sad. One clarinettist I follow had the following to say about the piece: “Paul Reade’s Victorian Kitchen Garden Suite is a refreshing piece that reminds me of the excitement I get at the beginning of each new season. Each movement highlights a different characteristic or stage that a garden goes through. This piece is brought to life by the colours of our instruments, one of the few works written for clarinet and harp!”

As much as I love Dr. Paul Jones’ piano playing – which was exquisite of course – I cannot imagine the rapture of hearing the piece with harp. (One day, I promise myself.) Dr. Chea’s phrasing was so sensitive and delicate, and the navigation of the different registers of the clarinet was flawless. As a chalumeau lover myself, I especially enjoyed the richness of these low tones.

Professor Dion Cunningham is a known quantity. He is a brilliant performer, and his reading of Frederic Chopin’s immensely popular Ballade No. 1 in Gmi (Op. 23), as full of drama and passion as it is, was full-bodied, hot-blooded and – yes – dramatic! I always love to hear Dion flex, and he was in full form at Soundscapes II. (Such huge passion and power packed into such a small frame!)

Now, as a singer myself, I suppose it is no surprise that the performance by basso Dr. Curtis Streetman was among the highlights of the evening for me. While the programme extols his expertise in Baroque music, his reading of Samuel Barber’s Three Songs, Op. 10 ("Rain Has Fallen," "Sleep Now," and "I Hear an Army") from Joyce's Chamber Music, was stupendous. These songs serve almost near-ideal exemplars of 21st Century Art Music, with their strikingly expanded harmonic structures, and their programmatic interpretation of Joyce’s poetry and their acknowledged success in capturing the complexity of the poetry in metric and harmonic language.

All of this is secondary, however, to the power this music has purely as an auditory experience. Hearing Dr. Streetman SING was riveting. My notes in the programme read thusly: “rich, burnished, bronzed bass butter!” In my notes, I took special recognition of the final phrase of “Rain Has Fallen”: Joyce writes, “Come, my beloved, where I may speak to your heart.” My own heart nearly broke hearing the delicacy and sweetness Dr. Streetman infused into that statement. The pleading. The vulnerability. The desire. Truly scrumptious. And again, on the final verse of “Sleep Now”, Joyce writes: “My kiss will give peace now and quiet to your heart. Sleep on in peace now, O you unquiet heart!” When Dr. Streetman sang “My kiss will give peace now,” I had to forcefully stop myself from jumping to my feet, lest I ruin the moment. It was a brilliant, delicate crepuscule of tenderness. Basses are known for their ability to be dramatic and stentorian, and he gave us that in “I Hear An Army”, but that moment in “Sleep Now” – that was the moment for me. Bravo!

The University of The Bahamas jazz professors did not stint on the vibes either, dear fellow traveller. Their performance of the ubiquitous “On Green Dolphin Street” – as Wes Montgomery once said of another piece, “a very standard standard” – was inventive, creative, playful and had such a sense of TIME. Guitar professor Rodney Q. Simpson (my erstwhile teacher) was rock solid and his chord-melody playing was exquisite. Low brass professor Chris Justilien (with whom I have had the honour of playing) handled the tuba as if he was Charles Mingus on an upright bass, and Neil Symonette – my boy, my collaborator, my teacher, my mentor, my friend and brother – was a whirlwind on the percussion. Every time he was featured, he displayed his characteristic verve and creativity, playing everything he could physically reach as if it were an instrument crafted solely for him. And his sense of TIME, man! It was a joy to be present, and for jazz heads, it was a masterclass in both restraint and the appropriate creative flourish.

The evening ended with something that came as a surprise to me: a trombone quartet! Dejalon Cuffe, Nathan Pickering, Picol Pierre and Frankie Scott presented Gustav Holst’s “I Vow To Thee, My Country” with grace and style, but I think the show was stolen by their performance of “Trombumba”, a sexy little rhumba written by George Lotzenhiser. The toes were tapping, the heads were bobbing and all were struggling to remember that we were seated in a cathedral. It was such fun! Othello Dames’ conga playing added the perfect spice to the low sounds, like the bubbles in a perfect champagne, prosecco or cava. My notes on this piece were simply observances of different audience members unable to keep still.

Special mention goes to organ maestro Dr. Sparkman Ferguson, whose improvisation on “We Shall Overcome” on an arrangement by Carl Hayward alternated between bright and brilliant and stentorian and thunderous. I saw many in the audience singing along with the snatches of what is, for many, a precious and important song with great spiritual meaning. Dr. Ferguson – the titular organist at the Cathedral – was most assuredly in his element, and his dexterity and imagination were on full display.

However, the MVP award of the evening goes unquestionably to UB soprano Alisha Wells. I am an opera singer. I have performed as a soloist for audiences ranging from a handful of people to thousands in a performance hall and more. Yes, it has been a while since I performed, but I recall intimately the terror of having to perform when something doesn’t “feel” right. Alisha had some challenges beginning her performance of the lovely aria “Aus liebe will mein Heiland sterben” from J.S. Bach’s magnificent St. Matthew’s Passion. I know that feeling well. I recall an incident auditioning for the Chicago Lyric Opera and forgetting the words to an aria I know in my sleep! I forgot the words! And I could not just walk off the stage. I had to put on my big boy pants and finish the audition. So I well know the complex cocktail of rage, shame, sadness and terror that might have beset Ms. Wells in that moment, but like a champion, she rallied. She overcame the momentary issue to present a beautifully sung aria, her pure voice clear and lovely despite the nervous wreck she might have been inside. [I may be projecting my own traumatic memory here, but I believe I understood her viscerally in that moment.] 

After getting her bearings, we in the audience would never have known she stumbled at the start, so fine was her performance. I salute Ms. Wells and her partner, flautist Talia Rolle, another exceptional UB student. So there you have it: Alisha Wells was my MVP for the night, for having the grace, the class and the backbone to stay up there, wrestle with herself and deliver a beautiful performance. Brava, diva!

In all, the evening was a tremendous opportunity to sit and be submerged in beautiful music performed at the highest level, and I was blessed to be there.