Four Seasons Harp Quartet

Howard and Susan's daughter Jennifer is in town to do a concert at the Royal Conservatory of Music. Jennifer is Principal Harpist with the Montreal Symphony. We have attended her concerts before -- they are always wonderful. Tonight's program highlights Vivaldi's The Four Seasons. It is a well-known piece that all of us have heard countless times, but I have never heard it done in the form of a harp quartet. Naturally, I was curious.

The performance started with Mozart's Quartet in Bb, K.589, transcribed by Caroline Lizotte, one of the harpists performing with Jennifer. It is a typical Mozart piece, joyful, delicate, and a bit on the fluffy side. I particularly liked the second movement (Larghetto). Next, before the intermission, we heard a short and lovely piece from Lecuona's Spanish Suite.

Finally, it was Vivaldi's The Four Seasons. Everybody loves this violin concerto; I personally also have a special fondness for Baroque music because of its complexity. But if I close my eyes and think of The Four Seasons, I hear the sound of a violin, not a harp. Can the harp, a gentle instrument, convey the energy and vivacity of the music? Astonishingly, the answer is Yes. The range of the sound from the harp is incredible, going from forceful to whispery, perfect for this expressive piece of music. In an orchestra, the harp can be easily overwhelmed by other more powerful instruments; but here in an intimate setting, every small sound is heard clearly. The effect was simply beautiful, almost magical.

Hopes and Fears, by Keane

Hopes and Fears by Keane

I bought this first album of Keane's a few weeks ago. It's pleasant enough. After listening to it a few times, I find my self humming with the music. There is nothing offensive, that's for sure. There is also nothing particularly moving, either. The lyrics are forgettable. The music seems to be lacking in some way. Is it because it's the piano, rather than the guitar, that dominants? Tom Chaplin's voice is full of emotions, but it sounds forced since I detect no emotions in the music or the lyrics. I don't hate the album by any means. I just don't love it.

A Boy with No Name, by Travis

I've been listening to Travis's latest album, A Boy with No Name, the last few weeks. Before I say anything else, I must complain about the practice of having a bonus track. In this age of digital music, it is a major pain to have a nine-, ten-minute long unit containing the last official song, several minutes of nothing, and then the bonus track. My CD player in the car isn't smart enough to jump to the bonus track, so either I have to keep one finger on the fast-forward button while driving, or I'm stuck listening to several minutes of blank. To make matters worse, a typical commercial program such as iTunes cannot easily separate the two tracks, so I end up having to use cdparanoia on Linux to rip select segments. But tracks obtained this way contain no album information. Yes, I know I'm nitpicking, however, I just don't see the point of bonus tracks. In the case of some albums, the bonus tracks are just a few simple lines that are best ignored. Travis's bonus tracks though have always been bona fide songs, often of higher quality than some of the listed tracks. What is the point of continuing this archaic practice?

Meanwhile, back at the ranch... I find this album to be much better than their previous album, 12 Memories. My favourite songs are 3 Times and You Lose, Closer, My Eyes, and the bonus track. 3 Times and You Lose has the haunting style reminiscent of As You Are from their second album, The Man Who. Closer and My Eyes are more energetic and at the same time full of emotions. The bonus track is a classical Travis affair, a lovely melody supported by quick beats. A number of other songs in the album are highly likeable also. It's one of their best work to date.

Bizet's Carmen

When I was growing up, my mum listened to classical music at home all the time. By osmosis, I became familiar with the likes of Beethoven, Bach, et al. The story my mum likes to tell to this day is, once, I proclaimed Carmen to be a "bad woman." Why? Because if she's already with somebody, she shouldn't go off with someone else. Clearly, I was quite a prude even at a young age.

Since then, I've seen the Canadian Opera Company's production of Carmen, listened to the opera on my CD many times, and come to realize that Carmen isn't a "bad woman." Besides, who cares about stories in operas? They're all hokey anyway. The music is where the magic is. A few days ago when I found out that the Empire Theatres were showing the Royal Opera's production of Carmen, I convinced Jeff to go.

Well, it wasn't bad. Every song is as familiar and energetic as ever, yet when I looked around the almost packed cinema, I had to wonder about the future of opera because everywhere I turned, I saw people with grey hair, with walkers, with oxygen tanks! And I can't blame young people for not wanting to take part. At times, the music is dull, and the story silly. Even though I still love classical music, I'm not one who believes that the arts must be rescued at all costs. It's the way it is: some things survive, others fade away.