Kegelstatt Ensemble will continue its exploration of 'New Sounds' and examining chamber music masterworks for unusual instrumental combinations.
Following from last year’s ‘top ten from the first ten years’, a retrospective of Kegelstatt’s opening decade, Kegelstatt will resume its experimentation with sound. In their first recital of 2016, the trio – Leigh Harrdold, Steph Wake-Dyster and Anna Webb – will look at composers who turned to the indigenous music of their homelands to find their authentic voice.
Highlighting the production will be guest appearances including: cellist Louise McKay, violinist Janet Anderson and flautist Alexandra Castle. Together with Kegelstatt they will explore fairy-tales, folk-songs and street-bands; all of which historically conjure sentiments of patriotic pride resonating through joyful and clangorous music – musically celebrating a nation’s past and helping to define its future.
Pianist, Leigh Harrold, pens an open letter about the glamorous life of a classical chamber musician. Or just the life of a classical chamber musician, because it's not as glamorous on the inside:
“Dear reader,
Steph, Anna and I are excited to talk to you today about the glamorous and high-flying life that comes with being a classical chamber musician.
Now bear with me one second: I *have* jotted down some salient points about our glamorous life in the back of my diary, and as I’m searching for them I’ve found a hastily scribbled note reminding me to ring the airport to see if they’ll accept an alto-flute as hand-luggage, as Alex Castle is flying from Sydney with one to perform with us. [Mental note: firstly, ask airport attendee if they know what an ‘alto-flute’ is]
But, bear with me a second: Just as I’ve gone to ring the airport, my phone’s started ringing and it’s Janet Anderson – our violinist in this upcoming concert – who’s in a mild panic because the music for the Copland piece hasn’t arrived at her house yet. A quick glance in my bag has confirmed that this is because I haven’t yet posted it. I think perhaps I can run to the post-office tomorrow in between coaching a piano trio at Melbourne Uni at 12 and getting to the National Academy of Music to rehearse a Beethoven sonata at 2. Which reminds me, I hope I haven’t forgotten to pack the Beethoven music. Nope, I’ve found it here after all, but the California roll I hastily packed for lunch has fallen out of its packaging and smeared itself all over the music. The first page is practically illegible. Maybe it’ll be okay… maybe I can play it from memory? [Mental note: text Steph for advice on removing kewpie mayonnaise stains from music]
But, please now bear with me another second: As I’ve gone to text Steph, I’ve suddenly remembered she’s requested a change in the rehearsal schedule – we can’t rehearse too late, she said, because she needs to feed her little girl; we can’t rehearse too early, I said, because my plane doesn’t land until midday; we can’t rehearse in the afternoon, said the rehearsal venue manager, because the space is needed by the orchestra. There’s a half-hour window that suits us all, but the piano-tuner will probably need this time to tune the piano. That reminds me – we haven’t booked a tuner for the concert day yet. But there’s a church-group that’s using the concert hall the morning of our concert… then the recording engineer needs an hour to set-up. Which reminds me – do we have enough money in our budget to pay a recording engineer for this concert? Crap. Have we even paid him for our *last* concert yet? The email’s buried here somewhere. We must ask him on the day of the concert when we come in for our soundcheck. Mustn't soundcheck for too long or there’ll be no time to get the piano tuned. The piano will have to be tuned while the audience is entering. Is that allowed? Otherwise we won’t have time to soundcheck. Is *that* allowed? [Mental note: search for a rip in the time-space continuum]
But, you need to bear with me for a second: As I’m standing here pondering for a way to temporarily bend the laws of physics, I’ve realised that what I really need to do to prepare for our upcoming concert is to actually practise the music. But there’ll be no audience to perform to if we don’t promote the concert, so I’d better get onto creating that Facebook event page. But the Facebook page will look bland without an eye-catching banner, so it’s really time to contact our graphic designer to see if he’s done one yet. Wait. I think he has, and I think it hit our email account… 2 weeks ago? 3? I’d search the account but I’ve temporarily forgotten his name. Is it Mick? Rick? 5 minutes of scrolling later, I’ve found Nick’s email. The banner has been finished! I’d better proof-read it quickly. Don’t want a repeat of the ‘Wolfgang Nozart’ disaster of 2006. Dammit, why can’t my phone download it quicker? Must get a new data plan. I think my current plan-listing is in the side pocket of my bag but I can’t see it at the moment. All I can find is a bendy packet of chewies which might come in handy if I chew some into a wad and use it to subtly stick my belt to my pants because I had a belt-loop snap this morning while I was putting on my good trousers and I have to go onstage in 30 minutes and play the piano with the MSO in ‘Romeo & Juliet’ as though everything’s fine and as though my pants aren’t falling down, even though this is the third shirt I’ve had to change into today and I’ve forgotten to pack deodorant so I’m stinking pretty badly but there’s no time to think of that now because I’ve got 15 minutes on the tram on the way to the concert hall to write another paragraph of the programme notes for this Kegelsatt concert (to check later: does ‘Villa-Lobos’ have a hyphen?). Which reminds me that there’s this first-person article I also need to write for 'scenestr' which was going to be about ‘classical music glamour’. Which leads me back to hunting through the back of my diary for my list of salient points which began this whole mess, only to now just remember that I ripped the page out earlier today to use as a makeshift toothpick to get rid of the nuts that had wedged themselves in my teeth as I’d shoved a muesli bar in my face for breakfast while running for the bus this morning, because while it may be okay to walk onto Hamer Hall stage in front of thousands of people with chewing gum holding up your slacks it’s very bad form to have food stuck in your teeth.
So, bear with me for a second. Where was I? That’s right – the glamorous life of a classical musician. Well, don’t be silly – it’s not glamorous at all. But when we step onstage and wrap our hands and minds around our instruments to perform some of the world’s greatest music, and we feel a shared emotional connection with a rapt audience, it makes the logistical nightmares all worthwhile. That’s why we do it, I guess – because no struggle or blandishment can stand in the way of communicating the best art ever created. The composers of these works deserve to be heard, and the souls of you and me deserve to hear it. Come along for the experience. I promise you, it’s worth it.
I can’t promise, however, that chewing gum won’t be holding up my pants.”
- Leigh Harrold
Steph, Anna and I are excited to talk to you today about the glamorous and high-flying life that comes with being a classical chamber musician.
Now bear with me one second: I *have* jotted down some salient points about our glamorous life in the back of my diary, and as I’m searching for them I’ve found a hastily scribbled note reminding me to ring the airport to see if they’ll accept an alto-flute as hand-luggage, as Alex Castle is flying from Sydney with one to perform with us. [Mental note: firstly, ask airport attendee if they know what an ‘alto-flute’ is]
But, bear with me a second: Just as I’ve gone to ring the airport, my phone’s started ringing and it’s Janet Anderson – our violinist in this upcoming concert – who’s in a mild panic because the music for the Copland piece hasn’t arrived at her house yet. A quick glance in my bag has confirmed that this is because I haven’t yet posted it. I think perhaps I can run to the post-office tomorrow in between coaching a piano trio at Melbourne Uni at 12 and getting to the National Academy of Music to rehearse a Beethoven sonata at 2. Which reminds me, I hope I haven’t forgotten to pack the Beethoven music. Nope, I’ve found it here after all, but the California roll I hastily packed for lunch has fallen out of its packaging and smeared itself all over the music. The first page is practically illegible. Maybe it’ll be okay… maybe I can play it from memory? [Mental note: text Steph for advice on removing kewpie mayonnaise stains from music]
But, please now bear with me another second: As I’ve gone to text Steph, I’ve suddenly remembered she’s requested a change in the rehearsal schedule – we can’t rehearse too late, she said, because she needs to feed her little girl; we can’t rehearse too early, I said, because my plane doesn’t land until midday; we can’t rehearse in the afternoon, said the rehearsal venue manager, because the space is needed by the orchestra. There’s a half-hour window that suits us all, but the piano-tuner will probably need this time to tune the piano. That reminds me – we haven’t booked a tuner for the concert day yet. But there’s a church-group that’s using the concert hall the morning of our concert… then the recording engineer needs an hour to set-up. Which reminds me – do we have enough money in our budget to pay a recording engineer for this concert? Crap. Have we even paid him for our *last* concert yet? The email’s buried here somewhere. We must ask him on the day of the concert when we come in for our soundcheck. Mustn't soundcheck for too long or there’ll be no time to get the piano tuned. The piano will have to be tuned while the audience is entering. Is that allowed? Otherwise we won’t have time to soundcheck. Is *that* allowed? [Mental note: search for a rip in the time-space continuum]
But, you need to bear with me for a second: As I’m standing here pondering for a way to temporarily bend the laws of physics, I’ve realised that what I really need to do to prepare for our upcoming concert is to actually practise the music. But there’ll be no audience to perform to if we don’t promote the concert, so I’d better get onto creating that Facebook event page. But the Facebook page will look bland without an eye-catching banner, so it’s really time to contact our graphic designer to see if he’s done one yet. Wait. I think he has, and I think it hit our email account… 2 weeks ago? 3? I’d search the account but I’ve temporarily forgotten his name. Is it Mick? Rick? 5 minutes of scrolling later, I’ve found Nick’s email. The banner has been finished! I’d better proof-read it quickly. Don’t want a repeat of the ‘Wolfgang Nozart’ disaster of 2006. Dammit, why can’t my phone download it quicker? Must get a new data plan. I think my current plan-listing is in the side pocket of my bag but I can’t see it at the moment. All I can find is a bendy packet of chewies which might come in handy if I chew some into a wad and use it to subtly stick my belt to my pants because I had a belt-loop snap this morning while I was putting on my good trousers and I have to go onstage in 30 minutes and play the piano with the MSO in ‘Romeo & Juliet’ as though everything’s fine and as though my pants aren’t falling down, even though this is the third shirt I’ve had to change into today and I’ve forgotten to pack deodorant so I’m stinking pretty badly but there’s no time to think of that now because I’ve got 15 minutes on the tram on the way to the concert hall to write another paragraph of the programme notes for this Kegelsatt concert (to check later: does ‘Villa-Lobos’ have a hyphen?). Which reminds me that there’s this first-person article I also need to write for 'scenestr' which was going to be about ‘classical music glamour’. Which leads me back to hunting through the back of my diary for my list of salient points which began this whole mess, only to now just remember that I ripped the page out earlier today to use as a makeshift toothpick to get rid of the nuts that had wedged themselves in my teeth as I’d shoved a muesli bar in my face for breakfast while running for the bus this morning, because while it may be okay to walk onto Hamer Hall stage in front of thousands of people with chewing gum holding up your slacks it’s very bad form to have food stuck in your teeth.
So, bear with me for a second. Where was I? That’s right – the glamorous life of a classical musician. Well, don’t be silly – it’s not glamorous at all. But when we step onstage and wrap our hands and minds around our instruments to perform some of the world’s greatest music, and we feel a shared emotional connection with a rapt audience, it makes the logistical nightmares all worthwhile. That’s why we do it, I guess – because no struggle or blandishment can stand in the way of communicating the best art ever created. The composers of these works deserve to be heard, and the souls of you and me deserve to hear it. Come along for the experience. I promise you, it’s worth it.
I can’t promise, however, that chewing gum won’t be holding up my pants.”
- Leigh Harrold
'New Sounds From Ancient Lands' performs Pilgrim Church 26 June.
