Those of you whose curiosity was piqued by our December wrap-around cover with its little forest of pins will I hope be equally intrigued by the invitation (at the foot of page 62 in this month’s magazine) to visit our website and take a look at our “world of The Whole-Note” website map.

Just click on the banner ad above, drum your fingers for a few minutes while the map loads – this is, after all, a work in progress – and then, behold! A forest of red pins will sprout before your eyes, multitudinous and thickly clustered as the poppies in the lapels of last Remembrance Day’s TSO audience at Roy Thomson Hall.

Each red pin on the map, dear reader, signifies a place where you can pick up a copy of the WholeNote, free of charge. And that’s only the beginning! Look carefully and you will see other colours starting to sprout too, amidst the red – signifying the fact, that, in the words of the old song, summer is already a-coming in! Pins are already in place (with more being added every day) for 2010’s summer festivals and music camps.

Where music is concerned, it is never too early in the year to start planning your summer!  So whether you use our interactive online map as a starting point, or go directly to our online Education and Festival directories, you will be certain to find, at, something to warm the cockles of your dreaming heart – sweet solace for the the winter’s darkest days!

(For more information about how to join our various print and online directories, contact Karen Ages in our membership department at To find out how to “put yourself on our map” contact Patrick Slimmon in our circulation department at

27b_aitkenClosely guarded secrets lead to thrills and, alas, spills. In this case, the Canada Council’s announcement that Robert Aitken is the recipient of this year’s $50,000 Walter Carsen Prize came too late in October for us to give the news its due in this issue of the magazine!

 I did get in a forty-five minute phone interview with Bob (keeping him from the task at hand - packing his bags for a whirlwind three weeks in Manila, then China). But the fruits of that interview will have to wait for another occasion.

 I am glad therefore that we can offer you, here on our website, a repeat of Pamela Margles’ wide-ranging December 2008 interview with the multifaceted Mr Aitken, to bridge the gap.

 That interview offers all kinds of clues as to why in announcing this year’s Carsen the committee described him as “a masterly force in the world of contemporary Canadian music, demonstrating for over half a century a tireless commitment to its development, performance and promotion in every corner of the globe.” “As a flutist, composer, interpreter and teacher,” they said, “he is a distinguished innovator and continues to exert a strong influence on upcoming generations.”

 The eight-year old Walter Carsen Prize is awarded annually on a fouryear cycle (dance, theatre, dance, music), so this is only the second time that music has come into the spotlight. R. Murray Schafer was the winner, the last time around. Kudos to the Council for setting the bar as high this time round.  Future recipients will find themselves in distinguished company.


“Make new friends, but keep the old.

One is silver and the other gold”

So go the words of a song more than a few of you will know, and might even have sung, as a canon, perhaps – silvery threads of melody weaving their magic in the flickering gold of a campfire’s light, round and round. “Make new …. make new …. make…new…”, “gold ... gold ... gold.” In such moments of collective creation and re-creation is a lifelong love of music born.

“Bumps” is the word that editor Colin Eatock chooses in this month’s Opener, on page 6, to describe the process of gently nudging you, esteemed reader, toward events we’d like you to notice. “Ten bumps” is his ambitious title, and indeed he delivers ten – spread judiciously throughout the upcoming season.

So what the heck. Here’s my two cents worth on the bumpy theme: ladies and gentlemen, direct your attention, if you will, to Row J, seat 11, Jane Mallett Theatre, St. Lawrence Centre, April 8, 2010, at, let’s say, 9.15pm. That’s me sitting there, perhaps reading the always interesting programme notes, but mostly just waiting for the single work in the second half of the evening’s concert to start.

For the audience at the evening’s Music Toronto concert, the featured performers are indeed old friends. The Tokyo String Quartet has been coming to Music Toronto almost every year since 1974 (albeit with some changes in personnel). Even for subscribers who haven’t been around that long, there’s a heightened sense of connection with the ensemble, because this is the fourth concert of six, over a three year period, encompassing the entire Beethoven string quartet cycle.

So, April 8, 2010 at 9.15, in seat J11, I will sit awaiting the moment when the disquieting opening notes of Beethoven’s ninth string quartet (the Quartet in C Major, Op. 59, No.3 the last of the three named Rasumovsky) start to spread like smoky gold into the attentive air.

That moment, when it arrives, will be a “bump” of a different kind for me – the kind that I’m told time-travellers experience, touching down. You see, on April 10 2010, it will be exactly 33 years and 333 days since the start of the most significant two weeks of my musical life. And on the final night of that two weeks (May 10-21 1976) I sat, same hall, roughly same spot, while another eminent string quartet, alas long silenced, wrapped the tendrils of those same uncompromising chords around my much younger heart.

It wasn’t called the Jane Mallett Theatre in those days, it was the Town Hall. And the series was not called Music Toronto, it was called Music at the Centre. It was the year of the Montreal Olympics, so the Amadeus String Quartet’s six-concert-in-two-weeks performance of the entire 17 quartet cycle was predictably described in Olympian terms. And the cycle was performed not in the order Beethoven wrote the quartets (which is what the Tokyo is doing) but in a mesmerizing mixture of early, middle and late quartets in each programme. And this work, the third Rasumovsky, was, as I mentioned, the very final work in the final concert of the two weeks.

If you’d asked me, I’d have argued till the cows came home for the final opus of the cycle to be one of the late quartets – probably the Grosse Fugue. I had loved some Beethoven from my teens, especially the Emperor, and the Waldstein Sonata. But barely a year before this time, in my early twenties, I had been introduced to his late quartets, and my sense of music’s power – to express the inexpressible – had been changed forever.

So my assumption back in 1976, I suppose, would have been that the older Beethoven would have been as dismissive of his younger self as I then was. The third Rasumovsky, May 21, 1976, changed that for me. From its smoky opening to the unfussy simplicity of its close, it was all-encompassing, early and late, old and new.

I was new to town. But since that day, that concert series in that hall has stood for me as a hallmark of chamber music as it should be experienced – the right size hall for the audience’s attentiveness to be a palpable part of things, and above all, as the years roll by, a sense of curatorial connectedness, of continuity and change.

Now I am sitting looking at the Music Toronto (“Music at the Centre”) season brochure for 1981 – their tenth anniversary season: listed under piano recitals we have Anton Kuerti, Arthur Ozolins, Andras Schiff, Alfred Brendel, Jean-Philippe Collard , Emanuel Ax. “Aha,” you say, “in those days they could afford to bring in the truly greats.” But if you say so, you are missing a fundamental point. To give but one example: Andras Schiff, in this brochure’s words is “the young Hungarian virtuoso.” And the Sunday “Introductions” series that year asks audiences to take a chance on such unknowns (to us anyway)as Peter Oundjian, Norbert Kraft and Bonnie Silver, and Catherine Robbin.

New friends and old, a lobby where people recognize, nod and greet, a sense of history, continuity and adventure, for presenter, artists, and audience alike – these are the things that a chamber series with a pedigree, in a truly chamber-sized venue, continues to offer.

Like everyone around here, I’m getting a bit giddy as excitement over the new Koerner Hall mounts.

So, welcome, new friend. But, on that night I have a date with someone I’ve known a long time.






David Perlman, publisher

Sometimes the complex mathematics of power is almost indistinguishable from the simple arithmetic of age. Take the Canadian Opera Company for example.

The COC was shepherded to safe haven in its House for All Seasons by the indefatigable Richard Bradshaw bearing the double burden of General Director and Music Director heroically up the hill. His passing sent shock waves of loss that still reverberate.

The COC started the process of filling the organizational void with the appointment as General Director of Alexander Neef in June 2008. Hiring a new Music Director, the 34-year old Neef announced, would be top priority. January 7, at the COC’s 09/10 season launch, Neef announced “proudly” that the search was over. Johannes Debus, also 34 years old, would be the COC’s new Music Director, commencing with the 2009 season, with tenure till 2012/13.


So, thirty four plus thirty four equals sixty plus.

Read more: Post-Script: February 09

Tafelmusik Baroque Orchestra. Photo credit: Sian Richards.George Frideric Handel was ten years old and living in Germany when Henry Purcell died in England in 1695. While it is highly improbable that the two ever met in person, Purcell’s legacy and uniquely English form of Baroque music undoubtedly influenced the 27-year-old Handel when he settled in London in 1712.

Over the two decades that followed, Handel established three London-based opera companies and a reputation as a musical and dramatic genius, mainly through his composition and presentation of Italian opera to the English nobility. In 1736, Handel composed Alexander’s Feast, his first work in the English language, with a libretto by Newburgh Hamilton based on John Dryden's 1697 ode Alexander's Feast, or the Power of Music, written to celebrate St. Cecilia's Day. Handel’s oratorio, which was an overwhelming success, is an important work in his career: its positive reception encouraged him to make the transition towards writing English choral works (including Acis and Galatea and the famed oratorio Messiah). And with a Tafelmusik debut presentation of this work running February 22 to 25, Toronto audiences now have the chance to experience this pivotal work for themselves.

Alexander’s Feast displays a clear and unmistakable indebtedness to the ‘English’ musical tradition, with an homage to the music of Henry Purcell. Purcell published his own Ode for St. Cecilia’s Day in 1684, one of many odes written during his career, as well as composing a Te Deum and Jubilate Deo for the same feast day. The musical parallels between Handel’s Alexander’s Feast and Purcell’s own St. Cecilia’s Day compositions are abundant, so much so that certain passages of Alexander’s Feast could seem like pastiche – if not outright plagiarism – but for the unmistakable elements of Handel’s style that masterfully and seamlessly assimilate all of these references. It is Handel’s genius and compositional tastefulness that enable him to borrow, synthesize, and adapt the stylistic traits of Purcell and combine them with distinctly Handelian musical ideas and gestures to create something exciting and new.

Handel’s score for Alexander’s Feast is indeed an ode to music: a mixture of styles and forms that incorporate elements from opera and oratorio (arias, recitatives, and choruses), as well as three concertos (one for harp, one for organ, and a concerto grosso) dispersed within the drama – perhaps in reference to Handel’s tradition of performing concerti, usually on the organ, between acts of his operas. On the Tafelmusik stage, those concertos will be performed by Julia Seager-Scott, harp, and Neil Cockburn, organ.

On Wednesday evening I had the opportunity to hear Tafelmusik’s final working rehearsal of Alexander’s Feast with the chorus and orchestra, which was an illuminating experience. Deliberately refraining from any preemptive listening or score reading, I approached the rehearsal with fresh ears and an open mind, and the music and its interpreters did not disappoint.

Led by conductor Ivars Taurins, it was fascinating to witness the orchestra and chorus exploring Alexander’s Feast together, refining and coordinating finishing touches, discovering familiar patterns and ideas in a relatively unfamiliar work. Compared with other Handel works such as Messiah or the Concerti Grossi, for example, Alexander’s Feast is relatively unknown, but the musical material is still familiar, quintessentially Handelian in its genetic coding, the same way one can know Bach, Mozart or Beethoven after only hearing a few bars.

One of the most striking features of Tafelmusik, whether in rehearsal or performance, is their attention to tuning. In this rehearsal setting, both chorus and orchestra warmed the air with purely-tuned intervals and shimmering chords, creating that bright sound that is so characteristic of and unique to Renaissance, Baroque, and occasionally Classical HIP ensembles. Even in rehearsal, it is rare to hear a misplaced note, interval, or chord – these professionals are so in tune with one another, both literally and otherwise, that the slightest disagreement in tone or temperament is rectified immediately, their constant communication manifested in swaying heads, bows, and bells, and in glorious sound.

And this was just a rehearsal! We are immensely fortunate to have an ensemble of Tafelmusik’s calibre in residence here in Toronto and I encourage you to attend a performance of Alexander’s Feast at Koerner Hall this week. Whether a fan of English or German music – Purcell, Handel, or both – this unique and innovative work is sure to entertain and inspire, an all-in-one program containing sublime vocal, choral and orchestral music. For those who only know Handel through his early operas or later works like Messiah, Alexander’s Feast is a fine opportunity to meet the composer as a younger man, well on his way to being regarded as one of the greatest composers of his time.

Tafelmusik’s presentation of Handel Alexander’s Feast opened on Thursday, February 22, and runs until Sunday, February 25 at Koerner Hall, Toronto.

Matthew Whitfield is a Toronto-based harpsichordist and organist.

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