Reykjavík Grapevine - mar. 2023, Blaðsíða 25

“Chamber music should be invit-
ing, informal and accessible.”
That is obvious to me as I take
in the room and see a diversity
of both audience and performing
musicians I rarely get to witness.
But confronted with Indian-Amer-
ican pianist Pallavi Mahidhara
chokes my desi heart second only
to listening to her play. As if my
soul weren’t full already, James, as
talented with words as he is with
the oboe, introduces an oboe-piano
duet, “Summerland” by William
Grant Still, considered the “Dean
of Afro-American composers.”
Avoiding the path of
least resistance
I must admit that, while I’ve heard
and read many a lofty state-
ment about music, this was one
of the first times that I truly felt
touched by it. I find myself going
back to the why and I’m curious if
inclusion is a conscious choice for
Tertulia.
James is candid about this, as
we sit for a chat. “As someone
responsible for musical program-
ming, it can be incredibly quick
to say, we have Beethoven, Bach,
Schubert. You can’t argue with the
fact that it is some of the finest
music ever written.” He pauses.
“But it is the path of least resis-
tance. Because it's been trod very
lightly. So for me as a musician, it
is about exhibiting curiosity and
saying, what’s beyond the canon?”
As if to answer his own ques-
tion, he continues, “Where has
history and society led us over
hundreds of years to actually
ignore, unconsciously. So there we
get to understanding that women
composers are plentiful, same with
African-American composers. It
is about finding great music that
is waiting to be found. That comes
purely from curiosity.”
This parallel with food, foster-
ing a connection with your audi-
ence, be it in a morsel or a piece of
music, is perhaps why music and
food have long been held as two
sides of the same coin of human
pleasure. While Tertulia events
are dinner concerts, the food itself
isn’t as central to the event as the
location. Logistical challenges
certainly dictate where events can
take place. But the challenges turn
into opportunities, as witnessed at
the sardines-in-a-can morning at
Mikki Refur, as Icelandic-American
cellist Sæunn Þorsteinsdóttir
enthrals the audience.
Sæunn is one of the main
instigators of Tertulia ending up in
Reykjavík. “It’s basically an excuse
to come and see family and also
have a concert,” she jokes.
“There are so many similari-
ties between food and music,” she
continues, more seriously. “Mostly
it’s nourishment. Yes, we need
food — but we need music also.
We need art, we need inspiration,
we need connection. Food too, has
gone beyond sustenance to become
about enjoyment. We’ve started
to realise, especially in Covid, that
creativity is a basic human need
— we need to express and to be
creative and to be inspired.”
Sunday morning delivers
on that promise of inspiration
in spades, as guests pile into
Ásmundarsalur for Reykjavík
Roasters coffee and pastries. I’m
not necessarily accustomed to
being anywhere at 10 a.m. on a
January morning, let alone alert
enough to process complex classi-
cal pieces. But the experience is at
once meditative and illuminating
— literally, as the curved ceiling
windows of the exhibition space
in Ásmundarsalur glow pink with
the sunrise, and the musician’s
notes intermingle with the bells of
Hallgrímskirkja.
Finally — vegetables!
Finale night at La Primavera is a
fitting end to the whirlwind days
of musical festivities. Long family
style tables, draped with crisp
white table cloths are bookended
by a piano quartet on one end
and a bar glowing with Ragnar
Kjartansson’s Scandinavian Pain
on the other. Conversations are
spirited, with many of the guests
now fast friends. The food demon-
strates the very best of Iceland —
achingly fresh cod cooked to fork
tender flakiness is accompanied
by the very welcome addition of
vegetables — a mound of light
kale, glazed carrots and perfectly
cooked chunks of celeriac. Our
visiting companions admit that
greens have been a glaring absence
in many restaurants, something
they confess surprised them here
in Reykjavík.
The incredibly generous
portions are understandable, as
the final act of the evening is a
fiery rendition of the 40-minute
long Brahms Piano Quartet No.
1 in G minor, and the last thing
we’d want is to get a little peckish
halfway through. It’s noticeable
that the weekend finishes on
this high note with a stage full of
women — Pallavi on piano and
Sæunn on cello are joined by Lily
Francis (violin) and Þórunn Ósk
Marinósdóttir (viola). So exuberant
is the piece that the piano is visibly
moved out of place as Pallavi ends
the 40 minute act with a flourish.
As the restaurant erupts in
applause (finally, I know when to
clap!), the staff swiftly place in
front of us hulking slices of their
signature Basque cheesecake. At
once light and airy, whilst also
filling and satisfying, its humble
appearance belies its complex-
ity and technical execution — a
perfect reflection of the weekend
as whole.
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ve
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I must admit that, while
I’ve heard and read many
a lofty statement about
music, this was one of the
first times that I truly felt
touched by it.
25The Reykjavík
Grapevine 2/23
Best before:
March 2, 2023FOOD