- Derby Museum of Making
- Alain Lanceron
- Maurice Karkoff: Symphony No 3
- Aula Magna della Sapienza
- Dulce Jesús Mío
- Dives and Lazarus
- Chisinau
- La fille de Madame Angot
Hope and Rebirth
KEITH BRAMICH enjoys a piano recital by Ross Salvosa
'... expert, secure and fluid interpretations ...'
Has humanity been a complete failure? It's sometimes tempting to think this when listing the failings of 21st century existence. Examples of Robert Burns' 'Man's inhumanity to man' are not hard to come by. There's Afghanistan, Gaza, Sudan, Syria, Ukraine and now, Venezuela, for instance, where the situation is critical, with recent elections stolen by the country's dictator, who is trying to prevent all criticism, and even threatening Venezeulans living overseas.
In pianist Ross Salvosa's notes for this album's booklet, he spotlights the centuries of foreign domination in the Philippines, and also George Floyd - the African-American man murdered by a white Minneapolis police officer in 2020 - whose dying words, 'I can't breathe', became a rallying slogan for the subsequent protests.
In Egyptian, Greek, Persian and Phonecian mythology, the phoenix is a mythical bird which regenerates or rises from the ashes of its predecessor, and is associated with hope and rebirth - eternity and transfiguration. As this album's title, Phoenix Rising also symbolises Ross Salvosa's process of self-discovery - a coming to terms with his sense of injustice and his anger and grief.
Ross Salvosa is half-Filipino, and the first three tracks on this album showcase music by Filipino composers who are all new to me - a rare treat of some unusual music. Salvosa states in his notes that these works are 'threads of my cultural tapestry, reclaiming my heritage and identity'.
The opening track, Malikmata (Transfiguration) by composer, conductor and administrator Antonio Jesús Naguiat Molina (1894-1980) is mysterious, sultry and thoughtful, with two big climaxes - one near the beginning, and one near the end - which both feature multiple octave piano glissandi.
Listen — Antonio Molina: Malikmata
(MS 1857 track 1, 0:31-1:28) ℗ 2024 Ross Salvosa :
On my digital review copy there is a glitch in the audio a few seconds from the start of this track. I don't yet know if this glitch will be on the commercial version of the album.
Mindanao Orchids by composer Ramón Tapales (1906-1995) is based on a traditional Filipino dance, and is constantly moving and shifting, through the use of fast, driving rhythms.
Listen — Ramón Tapales: Mindanao Orchids
(MS 1857 track 2, 1:31-2:18) ℗ 2024 Ross Salvosa :
There's also an orchestral version of this work - I don't know which version came first. I do know that I'm here to review this album and not to expound on the subject of piano vs orchestral music, but I find that the two versions bring completely different qualities to this music. (More about this subject below.)
Listen — Ramón Tapales: Mindanao Orchids (Philippine Suite)
(UP Orchestra, 2022) (excerpt) :
Lucio Diestro San Pedro Sr's dates are listed in the album's booklet as 1913-1902, which made me think of that well-known invention of the late Peter Schickele: P D Q Bach, whose dates Schickele gave as '1807–1742)?'. Unlike Schickele's creation, Lucio San Pedro actually lived until 2002. His Salamisim (Reminiscence) is a short, tuneful work, based around a traditional folk melody from the Philippines, and rippling with arpeggiated figures and spread chords, to conjure up feelings of youth and innocence.
Listen — Lucio San Pedro: Salamisim
(MS 1857 track 3, 0:00-0:47) ℗ 2024 Ross Salvosa :
Much better known are Fryderyck Chopin's Études Op 10, which include the Tristesse, Torrent, Black Key, Arpeggio and Revolutionary Studies. It's difficult to imagine, listening to these expert, secure and fluid interpretations, but Salvosa has included these studies to represent his own struggle as a pianist, stating that they 'reflect my tumultuous journey, each note a battle against self-doubt and fear'.
Listen — Chopin: Revolutionary Étude in C minor, Op 10 No 12
(MS 1857 track 15, 0:00-0:50) ℗ 2024 Ross Salvosa :
Phoenix Rising ends with piano transcriptions by Italian pianist and teacher Guido Agosti (1901-1989) of three movements from Igor Stravinsky's The Firebird. The firebird in Russian folklore is, of course, a similar mythological creature to the phoenix of the album's title.
Listen — Stravinsky, arr Agosti: Finale (The Firebird)
(MS 1857 track 18, 2:48-3:47) ℗ 2024 Ross Salvosa :
Here again I found myself thinking about the strange world of recordings of piano transcriptions, and their relevance in a world where we can summon up orchestral fireworks at the touch of a button. Almost everyone knows Stravinsky's 1910 Firebird ballet music in its orchestral concert version. In certain places, Agosti's transcriptions don't work very well for me, in spite of the impressive playing here.
I understand why a performer would want to transcribe orchestral music for piano and play the result, and why such transcriptions were very useful in the past. I also understand that such transcriptions could be very useful in the educational environment, particularly when training pianists or conductors, and that, when played live, they're very useful when there are small concert halls, low budgets or no orchestras nearby. What I don't understand is how transcription recordings might help the contemporary listener.
In his liner notes for this worthy, well-planned and superbly-played recital, Ross Salvosa writes:
Let the music stir your emotions, awaken your spirit, and ignite transformation. In music, we find the courage to embrace our true selves and each other with love and understanding.
I'm all for this, so maybe pianists and orchestral conductors/players need to embrace one another, aiming for love and understanding?
Copyright © 22 August 2024
Keith Bramich,
Salzburg, Austria
