Chamber Music in NW PDX: The Future is Now

by CMNW guest blogger Bob King

This past Sunday evening, in NW Portland on the edge of The Pearl, and while sitting at the bar (!) at The Someday Lounge, a long held dream of mine came true. Specifically, if one can be so about a dream, that we could simultaneously take in the magical experience of live chamber music and nurse our vodka tonic (or wine - or fizzy water if you must.) And while I've heard all sorts of great music outside of the concert hall, (Bach Solo Suite for Cello #2 at a Red Line subway station underneath Boston's Beacon Hill comes to mind), for me the dream leads to some kind of nightclub and a soloist, or duet, or trio—in short, a band—playing great music. Like many "dreams" we have, this one formed slowly and over time - little swirling idea 'planetoids' coalescing around a star like central theme - to get out of the confining concert hall and into an comfortable space with a happier feel. Since I am not a performing musician, I won't attempt to try inhabiting their psyches to imagine what the more relaxed environment feels like for them—you can get a bit of that from portions of the earlier post by Hyeyeon Park. But speaking as someone whose audience patronage divides almost equally between classical and jazz venues, I will take the more casual, the more spirited and more lively spaces every time. Now please don't misunderstand, I have a fine appreciation for the concert hall and the large form symphonic music that really would not work - psychically or physically—at say—The Doug Fir. We absolutely need the great halls (even better halls would be nicer) for Bruckner and Brahms, and I love to get dressed up for those events like a kid going to his first dance. But when it comes to the small forms - solo piano, and string or wind ensembles being the most common— is it really necessary to maintain the silence of the library in the confinement of what feels more than anything like an evening mass? Must we maintain a repression of appetites, in the more general sense, simply because our grandparents or more distant ancestors decided to turn the auditorium into a sacred place during the late 19th and early 20th centuries? For me, I would prefer a nice drink with my Mozart and the freedom to stand in the back if I want to.

And stand in the back I did for portions of the wonderful Sospiro Winds' performance at the aforementioned Someday Lounge. Their beautiful blend of five voices was just perfect for this fairly intimate club - and beautifully enhanced by some of the best acoustics I've heard in our fair city. The performance of five 20th century pieces moved more or less through the past 100 years of modern wind repertoire from the Czech Pavel Haas' 'Quintet for Winds' to commissioned pieces by Barber and Paquito d'Rivera. Admittedly, my knowledge and experience with ensemble music for winds is skimpy enough that I won't attempt to critique, for better or worse, the quality of the pieces or the programming. However I will emphatically say that the performances were top shelf - beautifully done. One side benefit, in my opinion, of the more interactive and intimate setting of the club is the performers’ proclivity towards explanation and exposition of the music they've prepared. Something I learned as the Sospiros each introduced pieces in turn was that the 'Quintet for Woodwinds' by Elliott Carter was the very first piece the group had performed together. I believe this little biographical trivia was relayed by either Kelli (flute) or Alana (French horn.) Speaking of Alana, and I have no shame in telling you she asked me to mention this, she is a one of a soon to be white hot famous group, Genghis Barbie, four fabulous and self-styled temptress horn players. A music video will be going viral online any day now apparently. Getting back to Sunday evening's performance, after the group had a chance to get their own drinks - and how great is it to get to chill with the band in the middle of a concert? - the second half of the show moved into even more modern pieces from the always evocative Kurtag and a crossover suite from the incredibly prolific Cuban jazz master Paquito D'Rivera (54 albums and he's only 62!) Ironically, I found d'Rivera's 1994 Aires Tropicales to be the most accessible piece of the evening, especially the lively concluding Contradanza with its echoes of Ragtime. All said, a wonderfully dynamic evening - in the sense of being vigorously active and energetic - in a nice relaxed environment from a quintet of players who are the future of modern music. Come see them again, along with all the rest of the Protégé Project players, at the concluding concert of the first annual Protégé series this Sunday afternoon at The Woods.