Author Archives: timothy roosma

What better way to tie a bow on this term of music appreciation than to attend one of the most iconic symphonies of all time, by one of the greatest composers of all time, performed right here by our very own Vancouver Symphony Orchestra. Beethoven’s 9th symphony has so many complexities and nuances, backstories and legends, but I think at it’s core it all flows from this simple but grand idea idea: amidst the difficulty, darkness and general ‘Sturm und Drang’ of life, there is joy to be found in the human spirit, and that joy will triumph. 

The concert didn’t start with the 9th symphony, but rather a short but fitting opening piece by Charles Ives called “The Unanswered Question”. This piece featured a very quiet underlying grounding created by the string section of the orchestra, a basso continuo of sorts. On top of this base, from one corner of the balcony, a solo trumpet ‘asked a question’ and was soon after answered by a small section of wind instruments from the other corner of the balcony. This three dimensional aspect of the piece created the impression of immersion within the music much as it might have felt in Bach church being surrounded on all sides by organ pipes. 

The trumpet asked the same question six more times for a total of seven. Each time the woodwinds answered, but their answers became more confused, more dissonant until at last the seventh time went unanswered. Until… Beethoven’s 9th symphony rose from the silence to ‘answer the question’. In his opening remarks, the conductor commented that he didn’t know what question the trumpet kept asking, but he did know that the answer was the 9th symphony. 

By flowing directing into the first movement of the symphony, the conductor made the statement that Beethoven’s 9th answered the question in a way that the woodwinds from the first piece never could. There really are no better words than, “In the beginning,” from the first line of Genesis to attempt to describe the opening of the 9th symphony. Formlessness found form, gathered itself, then the full orchestra launched into the music of Beethoven. 

I won’t try to dissect the symphony in detail as many other have doubtless done this, and done it better than I could. I will however try to sum up what I felt and how it impacted me personally. I’ve listed to recordings of the 9th symphony many times before, but to hear it live is an altogether different and more visceral experience. After simply walking in and seeing the size of the choir seated behind the orchestra, the suspense already began to build. 

There was no intermission, and I’m grateful for that decision. It allowed each movement to flow directly from the previous, highlighting their differences, and their unique qualities. All the movements are incredible, but other than the jubilant fourth, the third movement has always been my favourite. The melody of the main theme just moves me, and within the context of the larger symphony, I love that the movement directly before the climactic ending is the slowest, most subtle one. 

When the fourth movement started and the choir stood up, the anticipation in the room was palpable as we all sat on the edge of our seats taking in the music in it’s full glory. When it was all over, every single person in the room was on their feet applauding, for how could one not. Even now as I write this and think back to last night, I can’t help but have a smile of my face. Maybe that is what it’s all about. Beethoven somehow seemed to create, in his 9th symphony, a piece that reminds us of the euphoria of life itself! An ode to joy indeed. 

We have talked quite a lot about sacred, or church music throughout this course so I leapt at the opportunity to attend a fairly large modern church music event. Bach would have definitely been confused had walked through the doors, not only at the lack of an organ or any traditional instruments on stage, but also at the blinding light show, pounding drums, thick haze and raucously loud sound system.

The event was hosted by an organization called Worship Central which is a global organization who’s purpose is to train and encourage local church musicians in their craft. The conference spanned Friday evening and all day Saturday, but I was only able to attend the Friday evening set where a guess singer from the Australian Christian band Hillsong United, Taya Smith, was leading the set with the local “house band” backing her up.

The music I heard was definitively not like any of the styles of music that we would have associated with the sacred music we have studied in the course, but having been involved and connected to church music for many years now, I can say that there are some similarities in motive, if not in method. 

The hymn, and Martin Luther’s reformed influence on sacred music spring to mind when listening to those in the audience sing along to the songs. This is definitely not meant to be a spectator ‘sport’. Following in the footsteps of hymns, the melodies were simple and clear, and very homophonic. There were often vocal harmonies backing up the main melody, but they were always tied to the melody, not free to move around on their own, and much quieter than the main melody. The instrument’s primary purposes were to provide accompaniment for the voice, though there were often themes or lead melodies played on electric guitar, or piano during portions of the song where nobody was singing. 

All the songs played that night were in a major mode, so the mood was set more by volume and tempo of the songs, rather than their mode. This mood ranged from soft ambient pad sounds (played on a keyboard, but generated in real time by a computer) with a softly plucked acoustic guitar, to powerful moments of thunderous drums and driving electric guitars and in the final song of the evening, piercing synthesizer melodies leading the crowd into jumping and dancing all the while singing along.

In the same way that a ‘surround sound’ organ in an old cathedral would have been used to portray the grandness and vastness of God, the booming subwoofer and flashy light show were serving an equivalent purpose in the contemporary sacred church music I heard. Who knows, perhaps with Bach had been composing today, he may have worked for a mega church in Australia.

Music in the middle of a room are people were working, eating and chatting? preposterous! And yet… what a unique way to invite music into our everyday lives. Friends were having conversations, students were working on projects and assignments, and some of us were sitting and listening attentively, but the “sound of the Chopin” permeated any and all activities happening in the room. Benjamin Hopkins played with extraordinary skill, and seeing him move and connect with both the piano and the music itself brought me deeply into the pieces played.

The first piece performed was Ballade No. 4 which was remarkable piece of piano music to hear live. It is structured in some way like a poem, and it took me to so many different places emotionally, from melancholy to excited, from calm to distressed, all the while Chopin’s lyrical writing was clearly evident. To my (untrained) ears, I sounded like it was often modulating between major and minor keys to best portray different feelings and moods. I enjoyed that there were several “false endings” since they kept me from assuming that I knew how the piece was going to play out, and reminded me that I was along for the ride with no idea where the destination was.

The second piece was a waltz, Op 42, which was a much shorter, lighthearted and fast-paced piece with a very clear sense of rhythm. The playing in this piece was incredibly fast, and left me with a smile on my face.

The third piece was Chopin’s Chopin Andante Spianato and Grande Polonaise Brillante (Op. 22). Though played as one piece, it was really two pieces played back to back. The Andente Spianato was almost like an opera aria in its composition and flow, whereas the Grande Polonaise, beginning quite abruptly, was faster, louder and less “smooth”. The two pieces back-to-back provided great contrast in their juxtaposition highlighting the strengths of each of them.

The fourth piece was a Mazurka, which is a type of traditional dance music from Chopin’s homeland, Poland. I missed which of Chopin’s Mazurka’s this one was, and there was no programme to go with this concert, so I’m not sure which Mazurka was played. The piece was in triple metre, but unlike more standard triple metre dance music, the emphasized beats were not always on the downbeat making it sometimes difficult to keep track of the triple meter. It was perhaps fortunate then, that I was only listening was not attempting to dance!

The fifth and final piece was Chopin’s Piano Sonata No. 3 which is split into four movements. The first movement started out fairly fast paced, but not upbeat in its mood, rather it felt almost dark and foreboding at times. The second movement, which was the shortest of all of them, is a scherzo which began and ended with astoundingly fast playing. The third movement slowed things down dramatically bringing my heartbeat back to a much more comfortable pace, and the fourth and final movement brought the whole thing to a close with drama, beauty and flourish. 

I really enjoyed this chance to take an hour or so out of the middle of my day to sit and enjoy some music in a relaxed and casual environment. In addition to the music itself, I loved observing people walking through the building who clearly had not expected to run into a concert in progress. They stopped, paused what they were doing, or where they were going, and for a moment become enraptured by Chopin’s music and Hopkins’ amazing performance; how could one not?

The most prominent aspect for me about the three pieces performed were how different and distinct each of them was from the other. The musicians, and Jonathan Girard as conductor, were phenomenal, as expected, and did a great job at conveying each piece in its uniqueness.

The first piece was A Northern Suite by John Adams, which was a very modern piece both in terms of when it was composed, and the musical style. It encapsulated the sounds of nature, and focused on the experiences in nature that clearly reminded me of the nature in our own backyard here in Canada. The mountain ranges, glaciers, clear blue winter skies and dark green forests. If this was a Renaissance choral piece, I would be tempted to use the word “madrigalism”, but instead of a voice imitating what it was talking about, there were instruments imitating nature’s sounds in a way that not only captured them effectively, but also brought to the surface their beauty and magnificence. To say the least, it made me yearn for a long hike into the wilderness and a night spent under the stars. 

The second piece was a jump back in time with Concerto for Clarinet and Orchestra, Op. 36, by Françaix. This piece featured a soloist on the clarinet who played with incredible emotion during the slower moments, and displayed his skill in the faster, more complex parts. For the most part, the texture was homophonic, with the clarinet providing a dominant melody and the orchestra backing him up, though there were moments where the clarinet dropped out entirely in which the orchestra took the lead. Overall, it was a pristine piece of grounded music that provided a great contrast to the first piece’s more ethereal presentation.

The final piece that came after the intermission was Debussy’s La Mer (which literally means “the sea” in french) and it did a mind-blowingly good job at embodying the sea in all its beauty and might. Much as the sea itself, this piece alternated between calm moments that sounded quite peaceful, to raging oceans of sound bringing forth images of waves crashing down on each other. The first movement started off slowly and rather quietly, but I felt perhaps a sense of foreboding as if there might be a storm brewing on the distant horizon. But the time the third movement had started, the waves had begun to build and the music became more tumultuous. The complexity of this piece, and all the individual elements that Debussy was able to bring together to create an immersive experience of the sea continue to astound me, and when it was over, I was surprised to discover that I wasn’t dripping wet with salty ocean water. If you want to stay dry, but love the ocean, this is a piece for you!

Before the symphony started, I had no idea how the three pieces could possibly fit together, but in many ways, their differences only emphasized the unique qualities each one brought to the table and highlighted three different approaches to music. 

On March 1, I attended a clarinet and piano concert at Barnett Hall featuring two UBC professors, Jane Coop on the piano, and Jose Franch-Ballester playing clarinet. Because I had not heard the pieces being performed beforehand, the evening was full of wonderful musical surprises. The two instruments present were able to present a full breadth of musical emotion from upbeat energetic melodies, to pleasant moderate tunes, to somber reflective pieces, and finally to perfectly used moments of silence. 

The concert started with Three Intermezzi, Op. 13, by Stanford which was a cheerful way to begin the evening. I don’t know if the term “Intermezzi” used here in the title bears any relation to the intermezzi that would take place between acts in opera seria, but there was definitely a light-hearted feeling associated with these pieces which leads me to suspect there may be some connection. For me, the stand-out moments in this first piece were the moments of call-and-response between the piano and clarinet. One might even call it imitative polyphany, but only between two instruments, and as they imitated each other, the musicians were clearly playing off each other’s energies.

The second piece was the Grand Dup, Op. 48, by Weber which featured some simply incredible virtuosic playing by both musicians. What made this piece so enjoyable was that it was crafted to give each instrument it’s time to shine while also having moments where they both locked in together and flowed as a team. The overall feeling of the piece was a bright, enthusiastic mood especially embodied by Franch-Ballester who played his clarinet with a passion I have rarely seen before.

After the intermission we heard Four Pieces, Op. 5, by Alan Berg which, especially in comparison to the pieces heard before the intermission, was full of dissonance and discord with a somber mood. The two musicians captured the feelings conveyed by the music perfectly and one couldn’t help but picture a world of colour slowly fading to black and white. The silences in this piece were pronounced and kept me on the edge of my seat never knowing what to expect next. 

Everything wrapped up with Brahm’s Sonata No. 1, Op. 120, No. 1, which is a piece full of emotion. Since it’s in a minor key, it had a darker feeling to it, but in the midst of that had a sense of peace and life that is hard to quantify. The tempo in this piece was always changing which allowed it to go to many different places, often flowing directly from a slow, dark moment to a faster light moment and then back again, but never in a way that felt unnatural. This was a piece of music that somehow felt both organic and perfectly composed at the same time.

It was great to hear two professors from UBC playing alongside each other, and to see the talent that exists right here in this school. Both were stunningly good at their respective instruments; Jane Coop was composed and elegant on the piano, and Jose Franch-Ballester was exuberant and passionate as he played the clarinet. Together they brought the music to life, a life full of both joys and sorrows, and everything in between: a life that felt real.