REVIEW: Martin Dreyer’s verdict on British Music Society, Amabile, Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall, University of York, October 31

Amabile clarinettist Lesley Schatzberger

TOO rarely do we get the chance to hear and acknowledge the professional musicians living in our midst.

The clarinettist Lesley Schatzberger has played internationally with several distinguished orchestras and ensembles, but makes her home in York. She also spearheads Amabile, whose other members are pianist Paul Nicholson – like her, a University of York graduate – and cellist Nicola Tait Baxter. All three have enjoyed successful solo careers.

Not all soloists coalesce easily into chamber music. This British Music Society concert proved otherwise, with works by Shostakovich and York composer Steve Crowther framed by trios from Clara Schumann and Brahms.

Clara’s Piano Trio in G minor, her first chamber piece, is widely regarded as her finest achievement. Its violin part converts easily for the clarinet. Immediately there was lovely shading, as the voices ducked in and out of the texture.

The skittish scherzo has an attractive cello melody in its trio section which Tait Baxter relished. The centre of the Andante was aptly nervy and the spicy fugue shone out of the finale. Best of all, the players did not attempt to press Clara’s cause; they allowed the score to unfold naturally.

The mellow music of Brahms’s last decade regularly relies on the clarinet and Schatzberger’s smoothly fluent tone brought a perfect touch of velvet to his Clarinet Trio in A minor. The ebb and flow in the broad sweeps of the opening typified Romantic yearning.

Eloquent cello led the way in the slow movement. In the lilting scherzo-substitute that follows, Nicholson’s piano backing was a model of restraint. Yet in the finale, after the pause, he re-electrified the momentum for a dramatic finish.

Steve Crowther’s Morris Dances (2012) are a theme and 11 variations, originally for piano solo, dedicated to Philip Morris. In the last two years he has orchestrated six of them for clarinet trio.

They remain delightful cameos of friends and family but have here gained in colour. They always had a tendency to minimalism, but their emotional range is wide, from nervous energy and angry argument to hesitancy and nostalgia. The trio seemed to enjoy them as much as the audience.

Tait Baxter had tackled Shostakovich’s only cello sonata with a laser focus. Thrown straight into the fray by the frenetic opening, she yet found a proper moodiness for its second theme. There was wry humour to follow, another allegro that is essentially a literal ‘scherzo’ (joke). One had to marvel at the sotto voce ending to the slow movement.

She and Nicholson were alive, too, to the martial connotations of the finale’s scatty melody. Indeed he was a tower of strength throughout, never pushy, but always urging.

Amabile is a trio of experts brilliantly submerging their solo instincts to make much more than the sum of their parts.

Review by Martin Dreyer

REVIEW: Amabile/Savva Zverev & Sid Ramchander, York Late Music, Unitarian Chapel, St Saviourgate, York, April 6

Savva Zverev: Russian-born violinist and graduate of Royal Northern Collge of Music. Picture: York Late Music

LATE Music has been changing gradually over the years. It now encompasses two concerts on the first Saturday of every month between October and June, one at lunchtime and one in the evening.

Amabile, a clarinet trio, drew the lunchtime slot this month, with Farrenc and Brahms sandwiching a premiere by Steve Crowther.

In the welcome wave of rediscovery of female composers through the ages, the name of Louise Farrenc (1804-1875) regularly recurs. She mainly wrote for her own instrument, the piano, but chamber music – always with piano – engaged her frequently.

Her Trio in E flat, Op 44 (1861), partners clarinet (or violin) with cello and piano. It shows craftsmanship rather than inspiration, and is a throwback to Mendelssohn with a touch of Mozartian finesse.

Amabile, with the seasoned clarinet of Lesley Schatzberger to the fore, treated it with considerable respect. Balance was awry at first, with prominent piano and self-effacing cello, but Farrenc’s imitative tendencies soon emerged politely enough.

A slithery little figure in the minuet heralded a finale that showed flashes of imagination; it was taken at an exciting pace. There is probably more to the composer than this but it was good to hear.

Crowther’s Transcriptions from Morris Dances are nothing to do with the well-known dances but five cameos inspired by the composer’s friendship with Philip Morris, presumably originally for piano.

They are delightful vignettes, spiced with wit and insight, ranging from the light and airy in the opening homage to friendship to the thoughtfully elegiac in the final Love Song, with its quizzical ending. They were lovingly played.

Brahms’s Clarinet Trio, Op 114 in A minor (1891), has all the autumnal warmth we associate with the composer’s twilight years. The opening Allegro had a lovely flow here and a delicate ending.

In the heat haze conjured by the Adagio, the cello of Nicola Tait Baxter came into its own, entwined closely with Schatzberger’s idiomatic clarinet. Paul Nicholson’s piano neatly underpinned the lilting Viennese waltz that preceded a finale of crisp rhythms tinged with a touch of aggression. It was good to see Nicholson back in musical harness after his retirement from the Anglican ministry. He has lost none of his previous finesse on all types of keyboard.

The evening brought a surprise. There have been countless expert exponents of contemporary music in this series over the years, but never, I would guess, a virtuoso of quite the calibre of violinist Savva Zverev.

His nonchalant dispatch of a variety of works from Bach to Bartók and beyond was breathtaking. Sid Ramchander was his nimble-fingered piano partner.

Zverev opened his first half with Bach’s first solo violin sonata, BWV 1001 in G minor. He made it sound, as Bach undoubtedly intended, as if there were several instruments involved, not just counterpoint in three or even four parts but, with double and treble-stopping, remarkable harmony as well. This was cutting-edge stuff in Bach’s day. It still is – and very much belonged here.

By way of balance, Zverev’s second half began with Bartók’s unaccompanied Violin Sonata of 1944, the year before he died. It takes several leaves out of Bach’s book and is equally challenging.

Not that it held any terrors for Zverev. His top-string brilliance was not balanced by much dynamic shading in the opening chaconne, but his handling of the four-voice fugue, with its alternate plucking and bowing, was masterly. So too was the zig-zagging Melodia and bravura reached a new peak in the headlong finale.

After that, there was bound to be anti-climax. Pärt’s slow, minimalist Spiegel im Spiegel could not hold attention in this company. Franz Waxman’s Carmen Fantasy, taken from his soundtrack to the 1946 film Humoresque, inevitably came across as relatively empty display, virtuosity for its own sake. Perhaps we had simply had enough by then.

Earlier, Zverev had shown a different side to his musical personality in the delicate traceries of Webern’s Four Pieces, Op 7 and discovered genuine drama in Lutoslawski’s rondo Subito, especially in the episode on the G-string. Ramchander was with him every step of the way here, no mean feat in itself.

In five extracts from Debussy’s Préludes for piano his melody lines were not always evenly voiced, but his minimal use of pedal contributed to admirable clarity. This is certainly a duo to watch.

Review by Martin Dreyer