Hinayang is a Filipino word that can't quite be translated into the English "rue" or "regret". It was a sentiment my fellow concert-going companion Anna Leah Sarabia, a women's rights advocate and a music lover to the core from back in her choir singing and classical guitar playing years, nursed after we left Philamlife Auditorium yesterday (Oct. 10) following the warm reception for visiting China-born cellist Qin Li Wei and Cebu-born pianist Albert Tiu in their "Duo Concertante."
Anna rued that so many people missed the chance to be transported to a near-nirvana state by their music. Were it not for steadfast soldiers like Pablo A. Tariman, almost a one-man team in promoting these concerts through his articles, how would the seats have been filled up?
From the first moment Li Wei ran his bow across the strings of his cello, Anna sat up, noting, "Wow!
Ang ganda ng tunog!" And sit up we did for the rest of the evening as he and Tiu brought alive Beethoven's
Variations for cello and piano in E-flat Major on 'Bei Mannern welche Liebe fuhlen from Mozart's Magic Flute and Chopin's
Sonata for Cello and Piano in G minor, Op. 65, the latter's significance being that the composer wrote more passages for the cello than the piano, his preferred instrument.
I must hand it to Li Wei and Tiu for being such good sports when some members of the overwhelmed audience clapped and broke their concentration in between movements. No harm there. World-class musicians like Cecile Licad acknowledge such applause with an indulgent smile and move on with their performance.
Beethoven and Chopin served as warm-up for the vigor required in the evening's last piece, Rachmaninoff's
Sonata for Cello and Piano in G Minor Op. 19 whose allegro messo part carried the familiar tune that serves as DZFE's station ID music. Many times Li Wei tapped the sole of his shoe to the music or shook his head of hair in time. This time the two instruments seemed equal with each artist given time to display his prowess.
Needless to say, the audience wouldn't let them go. The encore was a heart-breaking interpretation of Saint Saens' "The Swan" which Li Wei proved to be a piece truly meant for solo cello. He played it sans score, from memory and with his eyes shut, Tiu providing the unobtrusive accompaniment. The duo received two standing ovations and obliged with a third encore, another Rachmaninoff piece.
Backstage, Li Wei received his new Filipino admirers with humility. As I pushed my copy of his and Tiu's recently launched CD of Beethoven sonatas, he said, "Let me just put this cello down." He strode to his dressing room, put the instrument gently in its case, removed his tunic, and proceeded to shake hands and sign autographs.
Earlier at the lobby, a table with boxes of jazz and classic CDs for sale was set up. The sight of such CDs has become rare in music stores. Again, needless to say, our respective budgets for the week were ruined as Anna and I riffled through the collection and found CDs of pianist Oscar Peterson, baritone Johnny Hartman, cellist Julian Weber playing Andrew Lloyd Weber compositions and the St. Louis Symphony performing Satie, Barber, among others.
There were sample sips of Novellino's line of wines, the dry red I recommend if the auditorium's air-conditioner is giving you the shivers. It was a lovely way to spend a Sunday evening, and I wish for more of the same.
Years from now, I might be able to claim, I witnessed the next Yo Yo Ma.
Tiu on piano, Li Wei on cello (Photo from Inquirer.net)
