Minoru Miki

CONCERT REVIEW

Honolulu Advertiser : March 13, 2005

String soloist's pipa artistry visually, aurally stunning By Ruth O. Bingham Special to The Advertiser

Concertos have a long and distinguished history that has led to a large repertoire for almost every instrument imaginable. The repertoire has not, however, included concertos for the Chinese pipa - at least not until recently, when they began to appear on programs worldwide, part of the growing cross-cultural movement in classical music. The most esteemed pipa concerto of the handful composed so far had its 12th performance and American premiere in Hawai'i on Friday night, with the composer in attendance. In 1997, when Minoru Miki of Japan composed his Concerto for Pipa and Orchestra, he wrote it for Yang Jing, one of China's premier pipa virtuosos, and Orchestra Asia, comprised of Asian instruments. Miki planned to arrange the work for Western orchestra to afford more opportunities for performances, and he premiered that version in Tokyo in 1999. Friday's performance featured Yang Jing herself, in concert with the Honolulu Symphony and conducted by guest maestro Alastair Willis. The pipa, as Yang Jing demonstrated before the concert, is a four-stringed instrument of the lute family (think guitar), with an intricately carved ivory headpiece and deeply grooved frets running well into the body. Although it looks delicate, the pipa is quite heavy and is played resting in the performer's lap. Fascinated by a neighbor's instrument, Yang Jing began playing when she was 6 years old. She explained what a big decision it was for her family to purchase a pipa, because after the Cultural Revolution, "normal people never think about (owning) an instrument. Salaries were too low and it cost too high." Miki's pipa concerto is based on the poem "Pipa Xing" by Bai Juyi, which is, as Yang Jing noted, "one of the most important poems in our history, written in the Tang Dynasty." Miki brought Bai Juyi's poem to life in more than the usual way: not only did his music weave a fantasy about a beautiful and gifted pipa musician playing for a poet, but his concerto was played in real life by a strikingly beautiful and extremely gifted musician entrancing her audience. The concerto is composed in the traditional three movements, the first of which moved in and out of songs as the woman plays for the poet. Its high point was a solo for the pipa, accompanied only by percussion and leading into an infectiously rhythmic passage before the finale. The second movement, "Pipa Ballade," was both beautiful and sad, a slow, melodic retelling of the woman's life. Aurally transparent, it spoke of a delicate beauty underlined with passion, and was punctuated by raps upon the pipa's soundboard, as in Japanese theater. The third movement, as public as the second was private, climaxed in a passionate, improvised cadenza. To paint the story, Miki used an impressive array of timbres and effects - harmonics, bent pitches, flutter tonguing (among the wind instruments), vibrato, slides, strumming - that showcased Yang Jing's outstanding technique and musicianship. Her performance was visually and aurally stunning, her strong, slender, graceful fingers flying over the strings, and stormy outbursts countered by the most delicate "ping" of a plucked harmonic. She excelled in the finest nuances of expression, each note a gem, perfectly placed. Miki's concerto and Yang Jing's performance proved to be the evening's climax. Maestro Willis, an American conductor raised in Europe, presented a dramatic, Romanticized reading of Mendelssohn's "Hebrides (Fingal's Cave)" overture and Symphony No.3 ("Scottish") that suited his conducting style. Physically expressive, Willis challenged the orchestra, demanding - and getting - exceptionally focused attention to phrasing. Friday's sound was anything but "as usual," the texture less blended than mosaic, each line standing out clearly. The result of Willis' textural clarity was to highlight not only solos (those by Anderson, Sudduth and Barrett were especially noteworthy) but also missteps (early entrances, glitches, uneven intonation ...). Willis displayed an intuitive grasp of how parts fit together and how structure works, choosing tempos and prioritizing lines to excellent effect. In fact, Willis was so carried away at the height of Mendelssohn's storm that he lost hold of his baton, nearly skewering Concertmaster Jang as it flew into the first violins.