Barbican Hall, 6 April 2014

The muscular humanity of Stuart Skelton’s Gerontius informs every aspect of Sir Andrew Davis’ approach to work as revealed last night. Where cathedral performances can seem distant and ethereal there was an imminence about the reading which was powerfully moving throughout, even shattering at times in its intensity. Stuart Skelton brings us a man close to death but still fully aware of his own humanity, and it is this which carries through into the second part. The pain of Take me away mirrors that of In thine own agony from the first part. His powerful, yet beautifully sung, performance was matched by the radiance of Sarah Connelly’s Angel. No need here for a cautious approach to a fearful soul, her strength matched his and the outpouring of alleluias was thrilling.

David Soar was a young sounding Angel in both parts but matched the humanity of the others with a depth of feeling of his own.

The BBC Symphony Chorus was finely focussed throughout, with many telling moments. The end of Praise to the Holiest seemed more powerful that its explosive opening. The chorus of Demons started quite conventionally but became ever more clipped and aggressive as it progressed, dying to a pathetic dispossessed. The gently rolling finale brought subtle waves of sound which ebbed and flowed around the soul of Gerontius.

In the Barbican Hall it is very difficult to create a real ppp so Sir Andrew did not try. What he was able to do instead was create a range of dynamic intensity which was always dramatically apt. The opening of the first part was more autobiographical than spiritual, and that of the second reflective, almost charming in its relaxation.

We have been privileged to hear a number of very fine performances of Gerontius recently but this will surely be recalled as one of the finest.

It was being recorded for broadcast on 21 April. Catch it if you can live or via iPlayer or website.

Next Saturday, The Apostles.

The Dome, Brighton, 30 3 2014

The last concert of the season was also a milestone for those involved. Barry Wordsworth has been Musical Director for 25 years and in that time has conducted the orchestra for 200 performances. The warmth of his reception fully supported the respect from stage and auditorium.

The afternoon opened with Frank Bridge’s suite The Sea. It is easy to understand why Britten was so impressed when he heard the work as a teenager for it is both English and romantic, conjuring up visions of the sea around our coasts. Closer to Vaughan Williams than Debussy, the opening Seascape seems to look down on the vast ocean from the safety of the shore, where Seafoam immerses us to be splashed, flecked and drenched as we skim close to the surface. Moonlight brings an entirely different vision, a human perspective of moonlight on the sea rather than an abstract mood. Storm releases real power and danger, but when the violence has run its course Bridge rounds up his love for the sea with a restatement of the noble opening theme. Throughout the orchestra proved its mettle and sectional strengths.

American composer Lowell Liebermann will be a new name to most concert goers. His piano concerto was first performed in 1983 and is in essence a transition piece in terms of his own compositions. The opening Allegro is spiky and aggressive, with even the quieter moments retaining the opening tension. If there is a lyrical underpinning it is often lost in the forward thrust and violence around any melodic structures. Think Grieg sieved through Birtwhistle. The Larghissimo opens with solo piano in deceptively remote style, picking out intervals which suggest other scores without any sense of development. It is hauntingly written but none the less disturbing. The final Maccaber Dance is heavily staccato, driven headlong towards its climax, where brass bring a quasi Dies Irae.  Robert Clark was the soloist and almost convinced us that the work was worth the considerable amount of blood, sweat and tears needed to bring it off.

After the interval we heard Brahms’ 4^th Symphony. Maybe it was the exertions of the first half, but the opening movement was not as precisely phrased as one might have expected and the whole lacked energy and focus. This went for most of the second movement as well and it was not until the opening of the Allegro giocoso that the orchestra seemed to marshal itself to produce the level of attack and edge the score requires. Thankfully this continued easily into the finale with a strong muscular flow and wonderful rasping brass at the conclusion.

The next orchestral season opens on Sunday 5 October with works by Glinka, Rachmaninov and Shostakovich, but there are also four chamber concerts in Brighton Unitarian Church on Sundays from 6 July. All details from www.brightonphil.org.uk

Royal Festival Hall, 29 March 2014

No problem with the size of the audience at the Royal Festival Hall when, as one of the final events of All the Stops Cameron Carpenter improvised for the 1920 classic horror film The Cabinet of Dr Caligari. The film will projected onto a large screen in front of the organ which allowed us only brief glimpses of the organist’s diamanté heels. However, there were two smaller screens either side of the main one which brought us direct coverage of the console from almost every angle. If this was a little disconcerting at times it proved effective in enabling us to follow the speed of his stop changes and the way he was thinking as he went.

Cameron Carpenter’s approach to improvisation is essentially a romantic one. Though he does not develop memorable melodic lines, his use of tone and colour is emotionally supportive to the narrative and he uses a very wide range of expression. The awakening of Cesare and the murder of Allen were alarmingly effective and intense. At the same time he managed to bring a subtle humour to Caligari, making the doctor almost jovial in his relationship with the students.

The climax was superbly handled. As it became increasingly clear that the hero was himself insane and the world around him focussed and supportive, Cameron Carpenter introduced a Bach inspired development, as if the chaos of the earlier scenes was giving way to the strict but loving counter-point of the Germanic character. It was masterly and deserved the ovation it received.