To Euterpe: Much more than do-re-mi with Midori
Monday 28 October (Auditorium of St John’s College, Oxford)
J. S. Bach – Partita Nr. 3 E-Dur BWV 1106
J. S. Bach – Sonata Nr. 3 C-Dur BWV 1005
J. S. Bach – Sonata Nr 1 g-Moll BWV 1001
J. S. Bach – Partita Nr. 2 d-Moll BWV 1004
Midori Goto (violin), Humanitas Visiting Professor in Classical Music and Music Education
[Awarning is in order – this is not a concert review of Midori actually performing the new work ‘Doremi’ at the Proms earlier this year.]
Every student of the violin in the past thirty years or so has probably heard of this woman, and many will not see her as the middle-aged woman she is now, but as the 11-year-old child prodigy who stunned the Classical Music scene in the 80s. Indeed, such was her achievement at the time that uniquely of all violinists and Classical Musicians she is referred to by simply her first name ‘Midori’, she simply is the by-word for child prodigy in Classical Music for many, and she is one of the few who received such admiration as to earn a magical nickname ‘Child Goddess’ (others include Kyung-Wha Chung ‘The Violin’s Witch of the East’). Her presence in Oxford, in a college auditorium no less, was not to be overlooked then.
In a largely full, and unflatteringly lit, auditorium, Midori entered, dressed in a black sparsely sequined dress, much older than anyone’s mental image of her yet much shorter than expected from the weight of her name, centre stage. She bowed to an expectant audience, and taking a moment of silence, drew high her bow.
It was wonderful to hear her playing these works. For no one could have foreseen her interpretation. She held her bow about three quarters of the way down in an effort to emulate baroque style (a feat in itself as one is practically having to learn bowing anew due to the difference in balance and weight distribution), yet the sound produced did not sound forced and bitter, but free and sweet. Nor did she shy away from the occasional vibrato to aim for a pure baroque style. Her sound was beautiful and extraordinarily clear and crisp.
Midori excelled in the slow movements of all the pieces. Each note seemed to hold an understated but grand significance that the audience prized with gratitude of all her brilliance.
With such exquisite music, a certain aspect of the concert baffled me. Midori did not seem to be able to hold the attention of the audience. Normally, the audience’s concentration follows a skewed bell curve or, sometimes, a rising curve. Yet this audience seemed distracted, with the concentration following a continuous sine curve, at one moment listening with total devoted silence, at the next rustling or fidgeting. This may have not passed unnoticed by Midori as she rushed through the second half of the concert, having cancelled post-concert drinks receptions during the interval. Indeed, her tempo choices in the second half were unusually fast, and her fast playing was not appreciated by many, especially as the notes were muddied and hurried. This was particularly evident in the ‘Chaconne’ of the 2nd Partita, where the famous piece was hardly recognisable in parts due to added frills and uncertain speed. Still her slow sections were incredibly beautiful and lyrical. Perhaps she had, after a week of lectures, grown tired physically, or tired of Oxford and her unappreciative audience (I had overheard a music student who plays the violin saying that she had not heard that the Child Goddess was coming to Oxford).
This was a most intriguing recital of the old favourites, interpreted philosophically and musically in a coherent way. It was a joy to attend, and a joy to listen. Please, Midori, can you come visit us again?
