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              SEEN 
              AND HEARD CONCERT    REVIEW
               
            Aldeburgh 
            Festival 2008 (7 and 8) :
             Bach, Cage, Birtwistle, Stravinsky, The Arditti 
            Quartet, The Maltings, Snape, Suffolk 27.6.2008 (AO)
            
            and  
            
            Hallaig : the poetry and landscape of Sorley McLean, a film by 
            Timothy Neat 
            Aldeburgh Cinema, Suffolk, England 
            27.6.2008 (AO) 
             
            Any Birtwistle premiere is an important event but this was specially 
            interesting as he hasn’t written all that much for string quartet. 
            Yet his Pulse Shadows (1996) was so remarkable that the 
            prospect of more has been eagerly awaited for years. Irvine Arditti 
            premiered the nine string movements in Pulse Shadows, and was 
            behind the creation of Tree of Strings.  The Arditti Quartet 
            premiered it at the Wittener Musik Tage in Germany on 27th 
            April this year.  Many in this audience were dedicated enough to 
            have travelled up from London, and the turnout at Snape was perhaps 
            equivalent to a sell-out at the Wigmore Hall.
            
            
            Irvine Arditti
            
            Harrison Birtwistle and the Gaelic poet, Sorley McLean, were 
            neighbours on the remote Hebridean island of Raasay in the 1970’s.  
            Birtwistle’s newest work, Tree of Strings refers to a poem by 
            McLean. “The Tree of Strings” writes McLean, “is in the extremity of 
            grief”.  Yet Birtwistle’s piece isn’t descriptive, for the poem is a 
            starting point rather than a goal.  Like the movements in Pulse 
            Shadows, the music for string quartet extends the songs, while 
            existing as separate entities.  On first hearing, what stands out 
            about Tree of Strings is the sense of movement.  The violins 
            and viola act like points on a triangle, while the cello acts as a 
            bridge between them.  There are snatches of quasi-melody, even a 
            quirkily wayward section like a tipsy Charlie Chaplin  trying to 
            dance.  In one of his few comments on the background to the work, 
            Birtwistle mentioned that his home on Raasay had been near a house 
            where pipers had come from far away to master the pibroch, bagpipe 
            music.  When strict Calvinists took over, music was banned.  Yet as 
            the film about Sorley McLean demonstrated, that didn’t entirely 
            suppress private music. McLean’s grandmother sang him ancient Gaelic 
            songs, and the spirit of song enriched his poetry.  Tree of 
            Strings isn’t explicit, but perhaps its air of ambiguity 
            connects to that irrepressible impulse.  “In the harp of Ruari, 
            and the pipes of the Patricks, is the loved tree of my talk” 
            writes McLean, “the serene, lovely music, the white crying music, 
            the music of my love and talk”.
            
            There are wild passages, such as 
            when Arditti plays sudden, uninhibited flourishes, but the overall 
            mood is understated and restrained, changing directions heralded by 
            subtle intervals.  Birtwistle also gives prominence to the cello 
            part which acts in acerbic counterpoint to the violin, reminiscent 
            of the cello solo in Ferneyhough’s String Quartet No 5 (see 
            review)  also an 
            Arditti Quartet premiere. Towards the end, one player at a time leaves the unit, to play on 
            his own at a distance.  Gradually they return, again one by one, and 
            the ensemble is restored.
            
            Philip Langridge said recently that 
            Birtwistle writes “
            
            This year in Aldeburgh, minimalist 
            aphorisms and free spirited “games” have been given full honours, so 
            it was inevitable that the music of John Cage should feature.  His
            String Quartet in 4 Parts was written to celebrate silence 
            without actually using silence, well before the notorious 4’33”. 
            Far more consciously than Bach or Birtwistle, Cage used mathematical 
            concepts to create the piece, yet ironically the effect is 
            surprisingly moving.  Perhaps that’s because there are so many ideas 
            at work that the imagination has lots to play with, and the Arditti Quartet 
            expressesthem with such agility.  Minimalist this may be, but it 
            articulates by implication, letting the listener fill in the detail 
            in his or her own mind. 
            
            To read an interview with Irvine Arditti in 2006,  please click
            
            Here.
            
            
            Anne Ozorio 
            
            
            
            
              
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