Fairhaven Singers’ annual “Music for a Summer Evening” concert has long been a staple of the Cambridge musical menu, and not just because you get a bowl of strawberries and a glass of sparkling wine included in the price of your ticket. It would be easy to trot out the same repertoire at this kind of concert every year, but this is a choir which explores parts of the repertoire that other choirs do not reach. This year we had an almost unknown cantata by Schubert, choral arrangements of songs by Elgar and Vaughan Williams and several recent settings of classic English poetry, including the first performance of a new work by Alan Bullard.

The first half had an aquatic theme, very welcome that evening in the sweltering atmosphere of Queen’s College chapel. A madrigal by Monteverdi and a chorus from Mozart’s Idomeneo showed off the choir’s warmth of tone and even blend. The big work was a late work by Schubert, his Mirjams Siegesgesang. This five-movement cantata for soprano solo, chorus and piano sets a versified account of the flight of the Israelites through the Red Sea, starting in triumphal march mode, moving into a breathless narrative of the pursuit of Pharaoh’s host (with rather Erl-King-like piano writing) and finishing with a celebratory fugue. It was certainly fun to hear once, though not perhaps a piece from Schubert’s top drawer. I did hanker for a bit more drama from the choir, and in particular a more heroic tone in the taxing soprano solo part (shared among members of the choir). Despite possessing only the usual number of hands, Ralph Woodward managed the difficult feat of both directing the choir and playing the tricky piano accompaniment.

Samuel Barber’s lovely To Be Sung on the Water is a staple of the “Singing on the River” concerts held on the Cam at nearby King’s College, but the Fairhavens had no need to fear the comparison. Delicately and gracefully performed by the choir, it was the high point of the first half, and probably of the whole concert.

After the interval we moved away from the water for a sequence of works setting classic English poetry, a theme inspired (a year late as so many of these commemorations are at the moment) by the two-hundredth anniversary of the death of John Keats. The opening chorus of George Dyson’s once-popular Chaucerian cantata The Canterbury Pilgrims worked well as a partsong, sensitively performed by the choir. It might have been a risky proposition for a hot night as the alternate passages for a capella voices and accompaniment would have exposed any saggy tuning, but the challenge was almost perfectly surmounted here. Michael Berkeley’s Farewell, a memorial work for Linda McCartney, set valedictory lines from Shakespeare, Milton and Elizabeth Speller; its lush chromatic harmonies were perfectly suited to the choir. A more extended work was Parry’s La belle dame sans merci, an elaborate setting of the Keats poem from late in the composer’s career which sounded almost like a secular version of one of his Songs of Farewell. This again is a style in which choir and conductor are very much at home, though it seemed to me that the wildness and strangeness of Keats’ vision was somewhat lacking.

I was unmoved by Mårten Jansson’s sentimental take on Thomas Hardy’s The Choirmaster’s Burial, which rather incongruously combines the narrative of an English village funeral in the nineteenth century with phrases from the Roman Catholic burial service. Alan Bullard’s Beauty, Joy, a setting of the opening of Keats’ Endymion came much closer to the spirit of its text, loading every rift with harmonic ore in a richly-scored diatonic idiom. This was a new commission by the choir and singers and piece were again well-matched, though there were a few understandable signs of tiredness by this point in a hot evening. Everybody woke up for the encore – an a cappella arrangement of So In Love from Cole Porter’s Kiss Me, Kate which was sung with real warmth and feeling, and left me feeling that “Be more Cole Porter” should be an injunction to every choir.

William Hale

Folkestone Symphony’s postponed (the 60 year landmark was last year) Diamond Concert was worth waiting for and it was good to see a large audience in the grandiosity of Leas Cliff Hall to enjoy it.

The highlight of the evening was the Tchaikovsky violin concerto played by the charismatic, smiling Joo Yeon Sir. Her very first entry – as sumptuous and sensuous as I’ve ever heard it – was a love duet with the orchestra and she delivered the rest of the movement, including the fabulous harmonic-laden cadenza, with passion and precision which also shone through in the Canzonetta. There were some special moments during the mini duets with flute and then with bassoon when she turned to face the other players and we all felt the power of musical collaboration at its best. Her finale was shot through with so much rubato (and what fun she had with it) that Rupert Bond had to keep the orchestra alertly on its toes to follow her. All players came up trumps and the overall effect was to make a very well known work seem totally fresh. It was a bravura performance.

Folkestone Symphony is a community orchestra which states in its programme that it welcomes new members – at grade 6 standard for strings and grade 7 for woodwind and brass. So you don’t go expecting Berlin Phil quality. However there are some outstanding players in the ensemble and the string sound (an impressive nine first violins, eight seconds, six violas, eight cellos and four double basses) is a great strength. In the Enigma Variations which closed the concert I loved the way the contrasts and mood changes across the fourteen variations beamed out from the warmth of Variation 1 (it depicts the composer’s wife) through to the self-mocking pomposity of the final variation which presents the composer himself. Other noteworthy moments were Variation 7 with delightful timp work, variation 4 played with a vibrantly full sound and variation 8 which really emphasised the quintessentially English lyricism. And as for the famous Nimrod (variation 9) Bond took it at a tempo which moved dynamically so it didn’t feel, as it sometimes does, like an old fashioned gramophone in need of winding up.

And then we got an encore and were spirited away from Folkestone and the English Channel glinting through the windows to Vienna for the Radetsky March, played with aplomb and near-obligatory audience on the beat (sort of) clap along.

The concert had opened – nothing remotely obscure or modernist about this programme – with Brahms Academic Festival Overture which took the orchestra a few pages to settle into. Again, the strings excelled even in the fiendish scale passages on the final page but the overall cohesion slipped once or twice.

What a treat to attend a concert prefaced – presumably in honour of the Jubilee – with a fanfare and then the National Anthem. It isn’t easy to kick off cold with a fanfare but it came off reasonably well and I liked the arrangement of God Save the Queen.

Susan Elkin

This production, like this season’s Carmen, makes imaginative use of takis’s annular set which puts the orchestra in the middle of the action. It’s a treat to see and hear some of the action only a few feet from the front rows of the audience.

At the performance, I saw, which showcased the talents of singers in Opera Holland Park Young Artists Scheme Samuel Dale Johnson – who plays the role in the main cast show – stood in as Onegin for indisposed Rory Musgrave. Johnson, tall and charismatic brings all the brash insouciance the character needs in the early scenes followed by wonderfully sung anguish and remorse at his final rejection – which is played on the very front of the ring.

Has anyone ever done passion quite like Tchaikovsky with his plaintive, plangent brass interjections? In this performance Lucy Anderson as Tatyana delivers every note and nuance in the challengingly long letter scene which she sustains with admirable control. And the repeated descending horn motif – hinting that this love letter is not going to bring happiness – hits the spot every time under Hannah von Wiehler’s clear, incisive baton. It’s a good directorial idea (Julia Burbach) to have Onegin physically on stage in mime at this point to connote what Tatyana is imagining. We see something similar in the second act when Onegin and Tatyana meet five years later and we are shown on stage what is going on in Tatyana’s head as her husband Prince Gemin (Henry Grant Kerswell – good) sings of married happiness.

Anne Elizabeth Cooper is suitably ebullient and excitable as the other sister Olga. She has the beginnings of a rich traditional contralto voice (think Ferrier or Baker) with some velvety bottom notes. She is a nice foil to the more intense Tatyana. Similarly Jack Roberts as Lenksy contrasts with Onegin especially as they quarrel at the end of the first act. He sings Lensky’s aria with both passion and precision while von Wiehler ensures we hear the woodwind shining through the texture.

The chorus sound is strong and only very occasionally, and briefly swamped by the orchestra. And every performer on stage is directed to make maximum use of the huge playing space.

In the first act the women wear simple white dresses which reminded me, off-puttingly, of nighties. I think these are meant to suggest youthful innocence because everyone is in heavy, grown up black after the interval. As a device it feels a bit clumsy – but this is a very minor gripe about a fine production and performance.

Susan Elkin

The world’s most popular opera feels fresh and vibrant, but free from gimmickry, under Cecilia Stinton’s direction with Lee Reynolds doing excellent work with City of London Sinfonia in the pit.

Staging anything coherently is a challenge on Opera Holland Park’s enormous, very wide stage. You have to allow extra bars to get people on and off because they have to travel so far. For this production the playing space is almost doubled (design by takis) with a sloping semi-circular thrust stage so that the orchestra is effectively encircled by the action. It adds still further to the logistic challenge but it works well and makes some of the action – especially the final scene – feel intimately immersive.

Kezia Bienek is terrific as Carmen. She sings with effortless panache and finds all the right assertive, sassy, flirtatiousness while always remaining her own woman. It’s a warmly convincing performance with, among many other fine moments, a deliciously sexy Habenera (lovely balance with the cello at the beginning).

Oliver Johnston more than matches her as the hapless, love-smitten, ultimately abusive Don José, His tenor voice is magnificent and the love aria he sings to Carmen in the tavern is beautifully, mellifluously lyrical. And yet he brings coarse, fierce passion to the final scene.

Alison Langer’s troubled frumpy Micaela is a fine foil to Carmen and her claret-rich voice delights especially in the resonant bottom notes. And Thomas Mole gets – and makes real drama out of – what is, I gather, the most widely recognised music theatre tune in the world. So somehow he has to make the Toreador song feel newly minted and he does – as his flamboyant, exhibitionist character shows off and captivates Carmen.

Lee Reynolds has slightly reduced the score but the omissions don’t show. He is a very clear conductor – mouthing every word with the singers, beaming in delight at the end of the glorious accelerando number with castanets and pizzicato strings. He allows a lot of detail to shine through. Like most people, I’ve known this music all my life but there’s a sparky horn line in the Toreador song I’d never noticed before. Once or twice he lost control of the male chorus which slipped out of synch for a few bars at the performance I saw but the juggernaut soon got back on track so it didn’t matter much.

The children’s chorus – arranged through Cardinal Vaughan Memorial School – fizzes with energy and sings with conviction. It’s good to see community involvement at this level.

Susan Elkin

Last night in the Tolmen Centre, Constantine, we were given a treat. A quartet of musicians attending the International Musicians Seminar [IMS] at Prussia Cove in West Cornwall came and played at the Centre as part of a short tour of West Cornwall venues.
Founded by the Hungarian violinist Sandor Vegh, this is a big year for IMS as it is their fiftieth Anniversary. Twice a year, in Spring and in Autumn, the seminars are run, offering master classes for students of music and recent graduates all over the world, as well as a chance for experienced world-class performers to work together with different musicians and to refresh and push the boundaries of their own musicality.

The quartet comprised Lesley Hatfield [violin], who is leader of the National Orchestra of Wales and a member of the Gaudier Ensemble and much more; Emily Nebel [violin] who has appeared with a large number of orchestras and Chamber groups all over Europe; David Adams [viola] who has played with a string of Chamber groups, including the Nash Ensemble, Endellion String Quartet, the Raphael Ensemble and many more; Alice Neary [cello] has been principal cellist for the BBC National Orchestra of Wales and has performed with groups all over Europe and the USA. She is also a renowned pianist and has 25 CDs to her name.

The concert began with Beethoven’s String Quartet Op.18, No 3 in D major. The work is in four movements and was the first quartet Beethoven wrote.
The first movement began quietly and was full of joyous little ripples, like laughter, as if Beethoven had enjoyed exploring and playing with the potential of each instrument. The second movement started with the quiet grace of a dance in which each instrument appeared to invite the next to join and in the third movement the dance quickened and sped to a close. Huge contrasts between light dabs and strong bowing occurred in the fourth movement. Again there was a joyous feel to the piece where Beethoven had the four instruments racing up and down and overlapping as if trying to catch each other out. The whole piece was a revelation and a joy to be part of as listeners.

Next came Dvorak’s Cypresses, Nos. 9 and 11, pieces I was familiar with for the piano but not as a trio for one violin, viola and cello. In Cypresses No 9, the viola’s lovely warm tones held the opening tune which was joined gradually by the other two instruments in turn. The piece ended quietly with the viola again, this time plucking the strings. Cypresses 11 had a hurrying rhythm alternating with stiller moments. It had me imagining a busy person rushing along only to be surprised into wonder and reflection at the beauty of the view.

After the interval we were treated to another string trio by the composer from Budapest, Zoltan Kodaly. Intermezzo for String Trio demonstrated Kodaly’s love of his country’s rustic people and their folk tunes. The skipping rhythms of the peasant tunes which also inspired Kodaly’s friend, Bela Bartok, were offset by a quieter passage, full of reverence and led first by the viola before the piece picked up into the rhythms of a country dance, underpinned by the cello, softly plucking.

Next came a short piece by Bohuslav Martinu – Three Madrigals for Violin and Viola [No. 2] wittily introduced by Adams who described how Martinu’s family lived in the belfry of their local church through his childhood. No bells in this piece but instead an exploration of the colour and scope of the two instruments. A difficult piece full of sliding chromatics, arpeggios that scampered up and down and discordancies that resolved blissfully into harmony and ended peacefully, moving from deliberately being out of sync to a coming together with a series of sublime long notes.

The concert ended with Haydn’s String Quartet Op. 20, No 2 in C major. Haydn was to all intents and purposes the inventor of the string quartet. We, who are used to chamber music, often forget what a debt we owe to Haydn for the playfulness and humour of his chamber catalogue. Lesley Hatfield, who introduced this part of the programme, also told us that it was Haydn who liberated the cello from just being the bass continuo to an exploration of its range and beauty.

Indeed, the first movement, marked Moderato, starts with the voice of the cello, which then gives way to the violins. The master of surprise, the movement is full of sudden fast runs from all the instruments. The second and third movements, Cappricio, followed by the short Minuet, starts with a strong series of notes in unison. The cello introduces the quieter section through which cuts the first violin in a lament. Cello answers sympathetically but the first violin has a song to sing, through which the other three instruments render a background of sympathy and support, emphasised by repetition of those strong unison passages. Finally was the Fugue in Four Parts. After a soft, light opening was a sudden strong and loud explosion of sound as the instruments wove in and out of each other. The piece ended with a very exciting gallop to a unison finish.

There is of course nothing like seeing and hearing live music. The obvious enjoyment of the performers enhanced this experience. Whatever combination they were working in, these wonderful musicians treated us to rich contrasts of light and shade, giving life in every case to these long-dead composers, as if unearthing them and bringing them literally from darkness into light. Watching them I was struck by the physicality of the performers; their bodies danced with and curled lovingly round their instruments; each became one creature.

They were all adept at bringing out the humour of the pieces and the rapid changes of pace and volume and, in the companionable space of the Tolmen Centre, surrounded by the warmth of that wooden interior which enhances the music, they took turns introducing each piece with learning but also with a delightful informality.
Thank you IMS for a wonderful evening.

Jeni Whittaker

It’s a real pleasure to find a non-professional company still staging an annual show mostly G&S (twelve out of twenty this century) as they have been doing since 1973 – and doing it pleasingly.

Director Leon Berger takes us to the land of make-believe with this production. Frederick is, after all, reckoning by his “natal day” just a “little boy of five”. So with 21st birthday balloons aloft, we’re in a colourful nursery classroom in which pirates with scarves round their waists play with wooden swords and there are lots of wind-up dolls and policemen. But it’s a gentle conceit. Beyond that it’s a pretty straight account of Gilbert and Sullivan’s 1879 piece.

Someone at Ferrier Opera Company understands that the important thing about making G&S work in the 21st century is to respect the music and have faith in it. And Gilbert’s words are as funny and clever as ever. For the most part they don’t need tinkering with.

I was thrilled, therefore, to hear Hail Poetry – the lovely four line anthem which Sullivan pokes in apropos of nothing in particular – beautifully sung by a totally still cast, lights dimmed and an illuminated photograph of Sir Arthur at the back. Later I was also delighted to hear another anthem To Queen Victoria’s Name sung with the same respect and precision in the second half – this is an unusual inclusion because there are three versions of the Pirates of Penzance owing to “cock-ups” relating to first performances, copyright issues and the first production in New York.

Of course some cast members are a lot stronger than others but Andy Lee excels as Frederick. His tenor voice is delightfully resonant (nothing as crass as radio mics in this production) and he convinces completely as the dutiful young man who falls passionately in love with Mabel (Rebecca Foster). She matches him perfectly with her piercing soprano voice. Yes, she has great fun with her show piece top notes but also duets very sensitively with Lee. Every note and every word is placed with accurate warmth. Both are accomplished actors too.

Other cast members doing a fine job include Jackie Mitchell as Ruth the “piratical maid of all work” whom Frederick loves as his nursemaid but rejects as his bride. She has some good low contralto notes. Nice 2022 touch to have her team up with another woman at the finale so she gets a happy ending like everyone else.

Andy Noakes is a pretty competent Major General – making his first entrance in 19th century striped bathers, flippers and bearing an inflatable unicorn because he’s come straight from swimming in the sea. Much is made of pretending he can’t manage the rhymes and needing cast help in his famous song. He’s also a strong lyrical baritone as well as a watchable actor. I also enjoyed Nathan Killen’s deliciously Irish Samuel – he sings well too.

Musical Director, David Stephens gets a nice sound from his bijoux 12 piece band – working from the proper, if cramped, pit offered by the Bob Hope Theatre. He brings out one or two textual details that are often lost in larger scale renderings. And three cheers for the decision to play the overture and let us listen to it without stagey distraction. The enthusiastic chorus escaped from him several times during the performance I saw but each time he managed to get them back on track after a few bars. I suspect some cast members are not very good at keeping a discreet eye on the conductor.

It’s a decent show, though, and I’m really thrilled that Ferrier Opera Society is doing this sort of thing. Princess Ida next year!

Susan Elkin