How exciting for the Dresser to share with Carl Banner's Washington Musica Viva the experience of a first concert held February 18, 2011, in the spacious and esthetically pleasing Kramer Gallery & Music Room of the Silver Spring, Maryland Civic Building. The program entitled "Five Episodes" focused on the world premiere of a five movement atonal composition for clarinet and piano that was written by John Stephens for clarinetist Ben Redwine. The hour-long program offered an interesting path into and out of the new work that was, quite frankly, a challenging piece to listen to and understand.
Opening the program, Banner began with his own arrangement of Mozart's playful "Sonata in F, K. 376." This allowed for violinist Kathy Judd and pianist Carl Banner to be joined successfully by clarinetist Ben Redwine. The Dresser felt the choice suitably welcomed in the 50-60 people who attended the concert.
Next came William Bolcom's jazzy "Little Suite of Four Dances (1984)." This composition for E flat clarinet and piano with its four dances--Rag, Apache-Jungle, Quasi-Waltz, and Soft Shoe--provided a range of comic and moody seriousness. "Rag" spoke to the Dresser like a man who was tipsy on booze. "Apache-Jungle" squealed and simpered while showing off with intricate repetitions. "Quasi-Waltz" offered a laconic waltz that transported the Dresser to La Boca in Buenos Aires. "Soft Shoe" seemed like a flirtation between Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. In many ways, Bolcom's piece was a good lead into "Five Episodes."
Composer John Stephens introduced "Five Episodes" by saying his new work for clarinet and piano requires more than one hearing. Memorably, "Fast" (first movement) began with an elongated blast from the clarinet. "Lento expressivo" (second movement) subtly began with a low pitch note from the clarinet that sounded like a tugboat moving closer, maybe in fog. It was a melancholic and mysterious landscape of sound. The third movement "Moderato (a Ballata)" sounded Impressionistic. "Very Slow" offered a quiet, lower pitched sound from the "Moderato." "Very Quick" offered an ascending scale. Carl Banner said of "Five Episodes" that its block chords gave him a new appreciation for how to play Brahms.
Closing the program was "Trio (1996)" by Gian Carlo Menotti. This three-movement piece--Capriccio, Romanza, and Envoi--was for piano, violin, and clarinet. The work offered call and response voices that reminded the Dresser of music used with silent films ("Capriccio"), a dreamscape ("Romanza"), and lively counterpoint ("Envoi").
There was lots of variety in this engaging program delivered with passion from all three musicians. Chamber music concerts are a good way to restore tranquility in a stressful world. In René Char's poem "Pourquoi la Journée Vole" as translated by Nancy Naomi Carlson, one can experience the ebb and flow of passion and of breath in much the same way that Carl Banner had programmed Washington Musica Viva concert "Five Episodes."
WHY THE DAY STEALS BY
The poet leans on some tree, or sea, or slope, or cloud of
a certain hue for a moment during his life, if circumstance
smoothes the road. He's not welded to others' confusion. His
love, his grasp, his joy have their match in all places he's never
been, nor will ever go, in strangers he'll never know. When
they ply him with prizes--those that would bind--and praise
him with voices raised, invoking the stars, he responds that
he comes from the country next door, from the sky just now
The poet gives life then runs to the plot's dénouement.
At night, despite dimples in cheeks like a novice, he cuts short
his goodbyes--polite passerby--to be there when the bread
leaves the oven.
translation by Nancy Naomi Carlson
from Stone Lyre: Poems of René Char
POURQUOI LA JOURNÉE VOLE -
Le poète s'appuie, durant le temps de sa vie, à quelque arbre, ou mer, ou talus,
ou nuage d'une certaine teinte, un moment, si la cironstance le veut. Il n'est
pas soudé à l'égarement d'autrui. Son amour, son saisir, son bonheur ont leur
équivalent dans tous les lieux où il n'est pas allé, où jamais il n'ira, chez les
étrangers qu'il ne connaîtra pas. Lorsqu'on élève la voix devant lui, qu'on le
presse d'accepter des égards qui retiennent, si l'on invoque à son propos les
astres, il répond qu'il est du pays d'à côté, du ciel qui vient d'être englouti.
Le poète vivifie puis court au dénouement.
Au soir, malgré sur sa joue plusieurs fossettes d'apprenti, c'est un passant courtois
qui brusque les adieux pour être là quand le pain sort du four.
by René Char
from Stone Lyre: Poems of René Char
Copyright © 1962 Éditions Gallimard, Paris