Concert Review: Horrendous Harpistry

Still going over this evening's solo concert by Dutch harpist Priscilla Pluckheart (note: the artist's name has been changed to preserve anonymousity in this blog), I feel a nice review coming up. The recital was certainly interesting and varied, but on the whole, there were some things which really made me question whether Mrs. Pluckheart really can be one of the most distinguished harpists from the Netherlands.
Confident and stylish, the harpist immediately captured the audience with her warm smile and dazzlingly turquoise trousers.
The first piece, Gabriel Pierné's Impromptu-Caprice op.9, set the perfect mood for an evening of harp music, but already here there were omens of curiosities which certainly could not fail to catch the attention of any non-professional harpists in the audience (admittedly, these were in very short supply). First of all, the soft and meditative arpeggios of the introduction must have been interpreted by Mrs. Pluckheart as trying to convey something quite aggressive and frightening. One could not help feeling sorry for the poor nylon strings, which must have been on the verge of snapping under the harpist's powerful touch. Some of the most difficult passages of the piece could certainly have been practised a bit better. The next piece, G.B. Pescetti's sonata, was a quaint Italian piece, comparable to Scarlatti's music in its baroque touch. Apparently, Mrs. Pluckheart was confused with her ages, as she seemed to want to give the piece a touch of romance, which made her very generous with her rubato, especially in passages which required multiple pedal changes.
Which brings me to the fascinating subject of the artist's pedal technique. Although the fascinating secrets of these pedals are supposed to be kept to the harpist himself, Mrs. Pluckheart was greatly more indiscreet with her footwork. Pedals are usually worked noiselessly and with small movements. Tonight's performer must have missed that part of her studies, since she alarmingly often lifted her foot high into the air and then jammed the things down with violent, stomping movements. One would have thought she could at least take care when putting a pedal back up, but, alas, her foot slipped during Grandjany's heavenly Rhapsody. There was a jolting bang as the pedal crashed into the upper slot, which must have been a real fright to the harpist herself. Of course, the harmony at this moment was also particularly interesting.
Mrs. Pluckheart kept the audience interested by also talking about her programme in broken English. She explained how Grandjany was the "Paganini of the harp" and told us about Cardon's "Russian Rondo", in which you could distinctly hear the balalaikas of Russia (not surprising, as both instruments are plucked). Interestingly, she told us about W.F. Bon's modern piece Allegorie, composed in 1972. She had just given the work's world premiere at Amsterdam a week ago, which would surely have made the composer sad to know that it had to wait 33 years before being performed. The music was, naturally, horrible.
The decisive E flat major chord at the end of Grandjany's Rhapsody finished the first half of the concert and was actually a promise of something better to come. However, the second part consisted of a single piece by Canadian R.Murray Schafer, "The Crown of Ariadne", for solo harp and percussion. This piece, which lasted half an hour, must have had the whole audience squirming uneasily, since it consisted only of interesting but also rather horrible-sounding effects one can produce by, for instance, hammering away at the strings with a huge stick, making the bass strings buzz away with the pedals (no problem for Mrs. Pluckheart), and tuning some of the strings 1/4 of a tone lower than the rest. The harpist herself managed the percussion instruments, which were conveniently placed at her reach. Definite highlights of the music included the tying of jingling bells to her ankles and using a cardboard pipe to howl into the soundboard. A particularly embarassing moment was when Mrs. Pluckheart caused her music to fall from the notestand by striking the triangle which was tied to it a bit too hard. An uneasy pause followed as she bent down to collect the music and herself.
All in all, a rather interesting evening. After all, it is not so often one can experience a solo harp recital in Helsinki. And although, admittedly, this review must have painted a rather negative picture of the concert, there were truly delightful moments when Mrs. Pluckheart managed to pluck the right strings of her instrument and the hearts of her audience with her sympathetic expressions and elegant gracefulness.