The Manchester Collective are reaching the end of their latest tour with this evening’s performance in The Carole Nash Hall, Manchester and tomorrow evening at The White Hotel in Salford. The foyer and bar area of The Stoller Hall seemed very quiet and I overheard the chief executive of the collective, Adam Szabo, say that there may be a few cancellations because of the corona virus. Nevertheless, at the last minute every seat was taken with an eager crowd.
With a small stage in the middle of the hall, four large floor lamps pointing at four music stands with scores that were heavily marked with pencil, the audience sat all around the stage as if watching an art installation – there is already a lot of love for the collective and familiar faces in the audience were smiling in anticipation.
Adam Szabo welcomed us all with his usual charm, telling us how they had to drive to their Netherlands gig due to flight cancellations and then thanked us for taking the courage to join them. Although his usual humour caught the crowd, there was an ominous feel – perhaps the dimmed lights in the hall, which is underground like a bunker, or perhaps the dark programme of music that we were to hear contributed to that mood.
The musicians arrived on stage – a string quartet with Caroline Pether and Doriane Gable on violins, Ruth Gibson on viola and Jack Bailey on cello. Without a word, they started the first piece of the night – a madrigal by 16th century composer and nobleman Carlo Gesualdo. Madrigals are usually unaccompanied vocal pieces so it was interesting to hear the music played on strings. There was a dark feel to this piece, with some pining. After playing, Pether gave us some further information about Gesualdo. He had caught his wife with a lover in flagrante delictio and immediately slaughtered them both, displaying their mutilated bodies in front of his palace. This double murder was particularly brutal, we were told. Gibson then read a translation of the madrigal we had just heard – “I am dying, alas, of sorrow: and the one who might save me, alas, is killing me and will not help me. O grievous fate, the one who might save me, alas, is bringing about my death”. This was rather grim to hear, knowing of Gesualdo’s murderous past. We were told that the strings put a large emphasis on the notes that corresponded to the words ‘alas’ and indeed that added a punctuation similar to the vocal, almost sighing. We were treated to the same madrigal again, this time armed with context and knowledge about this particular piece. Details like this are part of what makes the Manchester Collective so successful – the audience are really sucked in to the creative process and their performances are an experience unlike any other.
This sombre piece was followed by an equally dark, but sometimes touching Quartet Number 1 by Benjamin Britten. The intimacy of the musicians on stage was already apparent, the audience watching almost like voyeurs – seeing every expression and movement with such clarity gave no room to escape. This quartet starts with hushed, airy sustained notes in the violins and viola with a delicate fragmented melody on the cello. It was in these first bars of music that a realisation once again hit me that I will never hear this music played like this ever again. This was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Bailey, on cello, was mesmerising. The sonority that he sprung from the strings seemed so close and perfect, every delicate nuance was carefully placed and so heartfully sung. A folk-like melody soon appeared on violins, dancing over drones and dissonances, pulsing rhythms. This first movement contained a lot of polyphony, but still the conversation between the parts was really evident and touching. This piece is clearly a 20th century style with a variety of techniques expertly executed, yet there was meaning and emotion in this performance. This is often very difficult to do with 20th century music – it can be so demanding that the challenge of playing the right notes can be enough for some ensembles. Not for the Manchester Collective. The score is peppered with dynamic markings by Britten, but the dialogue was brought to life by the four musicians on stage who turned this music in to a deeply emotional experience. The pining second movement stood out in particular, warranting an unexpected but rightful applause from the audience. A vigorous end to this quartet was very satisfactory and well received.
The second part of the night brought a change in tone. Widmann’s Chorale Quartet was written in 2003, although still in the language of 20th Century. It is remarkable that such a variety of styles were created in this era – on reflection time may say that it was destruction and chaos that was the fire of creation for the arts in the 20th Century. Death was the theme of this Chorale Quartet as it was based on Christ’s Seven Last Words. This theme has inspired music for centuries, but perhaps this is one of the most touching and emotive compositions using the 'ultima septem verba'. Not a word is spoken in this piece of course – it is a quartet for strings. The instruments are used with many extended techniques creating chilling sounds that are meant to evoke the sounds we may have heard at the scene of Christ’s crucifixion beginning with his final walk. Widmann tell us that “the horrifying rubbing and sanding of skin and wood become the 'theme’ of the piece”. And horrifying it is.
Traditional structure is not obvious in this piece – phrases of sounds are often stretched out to the most silent of silences before assertive accents and surges take off again. Widmann is not afraid of long notes and the Collective have an uncanny, uncomfortable, ability to bring these to life – as if they were breaths, final breaths of a dying man. Phrases are fragmented, barely heard, or shouted out grimly. This one movement piece ends with much silence and light touches on the strings until a final terrorful tremolo up and down the fretboard rising higher and higher fades away in to silence. Perhaps there is some hope in this final ascension. There is no need to say that The Manchester Collective performed with an immense attention to detail – every sound was so perfect and controlled it was a living as well as a live performance.
The final piece of the night was also a dark 20th century quartet – Shostakovich’s 8th String Quartet. This piece was composed in 1960 shortly after Shostakovich joined the Communist Party in Russia. Shostakovich had a troubled life, mostly due to the communist state of which he was a highly regarded and important composer, lecturer and musician. It is dedicated to the victims of facism and the war. This dedication is disputed by his daughter Galina who says that this was imposed by the authorities. She says he dedicated it to himself, and indeed it is an autobiographical piece which begins with his signature theme – the DSCH motif using the four notes D Eb C and B (H in German music theory) which spell out his initials in German. Many themes from other compositions are present throughout and indeed his signature appears in every movement of this quartet. This piece has an unusual structure – with five movements instead of four, the first, fourth and last movements are largo – with a long, slow beat, perhaps he was thinking of his own mortality having escaped death by the authoritarian regime more than once – he was also known to be a fragile and nervous person.
At this stage in his life, he had more freedom to compose in the style that he wanted. Excessive 20th century writing was not ‘patriotic’ and for many years he had to write music that was subject to censorship and conveyed the struggles and triumphs of the proletariat. There is much soulfulness in his music, a sadness and yearning. This is evident in his 8th quartet, which is heavy and suffocating with emotion. Folk-like themes appear now and again but the language, while not atonal, is very dissonant and modal. The yearning in this quartet is relentless and engulfing. I am not a fan of Shostakovich as I find his music too impersonal – this is an odd thing to say as there is clear and frequent emotive elements to his music but it seems so constantly dismal it is almost one dimensional emotion and difficult to nuance. Grand statements are immediately intense – there is little room to go elsewhere. The Manchester Collective applied their typical attention to detail that again breathed life into the lifeless. This is a large and heavy piece, gravitas was applied and a depth of emotion was apparent. Perhaps I am hard on Shostakovich, but then The Mancester Collective could make the phone book sound amazing.
A programme of “heart-breaking intimacy and musical desolation” was ominous, and hopefully not too fitting given the worries and uncertainties with the corona virus outbreak. The Manchester Collective’s 'Cries And Whispers' concert really touched the soul and exploited that 20th century ability to reach and touch those emotions we may try to avoid or don’t even have words to describe.
Reviewer - Aaron Loughrey
on - 13/2/30
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