St Bartholomew’s Church, Brighton, Sunday 1 March 2020

Peter Copley’s Salamanca 1936 has had a considerable gestation period and its emergence into the light at the weekend for its world premiere was very much due to the enthusiastic endorsement of Sir John Tomlinson, for whom it was written.

The Oratorio is constructed for large forces and drew on the strengths of Brighton Youth Orchestra and a junior chorus from Trinity Laban Conservatoire under the direction of Andrew Sherwood. The text focusses on an incident during the Spanish Civil War when Miguel de Unamuno, at the time Rector of the University of Salamanca, stood up against the fascist General Millan Astray. The text tries to stay as objective as possible but the score brings to life the conflicting emotions of the philosopher even as he is trying to keep his feelings under control. John Tomlinson’s superb diction brings out the internal struggle for Unamuno in a series of extended arioso passages which both reflect on the action and move the narrative forward. The chorus are essentially little more than background noise in the poet’s memory until we came to the final section which proves to be both beautiful and deeply moving.

Unamuno is under house arrest and writes La Nevada es silenciosa – the snowfall is so silent. This is set in English for chorus and suddenly we are inside the emotional and intellectual life of the poet. It works surprisingly well and brings us into the heart of the dilemma. How does an intellectual stand up to ignorance and abuse – a problem which is universal and here given its universal context. Let us hope that the score is heard again soon as it has immediate relevance as well as being musically engaging in its own right.

In the first half we had heard Handel’s Zadok the Priest which all but disappeared within the cavernous acoustic of St Bartholomew’s, but John Tavener’s Ekstasis was more successful. The work was written for Brighton Youth Orchestra in 2000 and explores the mystery of the Trinity through three solo instruments above the gently undulating orchestra. Violinist Ayla Sahin was placed by the altar, trumpeter Tsz Cheung on the west gallery and oboe player Emma Sims in the pulpit. Tavener weaves the musical line between them without any sense of obvious interplay or overlap, yet always a deep sense of harmony and unity. It made a fitting companion piece to Peter Copley’s oratorio.

London Coliseum, 19 February 2020

Luisa Miller is a genuine rarity, even allowing for Verdi’s large output. It also has a large amount of magnificent music which deserves to be heard more frequently. Any opera company mounting a new production is faced with a dilemma. Do they go for something fairly conventional which at least allows us to get to know the work and might enable more regular revivals, or do they go for a radical reinterpretation which will challenge the listener? In many ways Barbara Harakova’s new production for ENO falls somewhere between the two approaches. It is visually striking and certainly takes its own approach to the narrative, but the characterisation and inter-play on stage do not live up to the extensive notes from the director in the programme. I would have expected far more nuanced relationships rather than the broad brush-strokes we are given. Setting the whole thing in modern dress also confuses any sense of class or social relationships.

The only one who comes out of this with any real individuality is James Creswell’s magnificent Count Walter. A cynical autocrat, convinced he can get away with anything, rides roughshod over all those around him. His sudden collapse at the end of act one when faced with the possible revelation of his hidden past is unconvincing given the arrogance we have already witnessed.

The other really strong characters are both older men. Soloman Howard’s creepy Wurm is the personification of evil without ever becoming a stereotype, and there is genuine empathy in Olafur Sigurdarson’s Miller.

Elizabeth Llewellyn’s Luisa makes a strong case for the part but she seems a fish out of water given all those around her. The voice is fantastic and it would be good to see her in a stronger production.  David Junghoon Kim sings Rodolfo well but his acting ability is very limited at present which makes his relationship with Luisa and his father all the more unbelievable. Christine Rice makes a finely focussed Federica though the part is underbalanced against Luisa.

Andrew Libermann’s set looks very good in its simple white state at the start but it soon becomes clear it is to be painted and daubed as the evening progresses. There are also intrusive elements which are never explained – like the vast upside-down hanging crucifix, and the naked young man and the barrel. It is as if the director can’t simply trust the music to tell the story, the stage has to be full of business. This is particularly true of the chorus. I thought we had dropped into The Bartered Bride by mistake at the start, given the clown costumes, but it soon appeared we were to be stuck with this idee fixe. There are also the ever present jokey masked dancers who frequently upstage the emotional depths of the music.

In the pit Alexander Joel creates a fine heart-on-sleeve romantic weight with his orchestra and it is this and the singing which carries the evening through. I’d love to encounter Luisa Miller again but I doubt this production will see the light of day in a future season.

Marlowe Theatre, Canterbury, Sunday 16 February 2020

This concert was entitled Sunshine and Melody – a contrived, very generic and completely unnecessary label of the sort beloved of the Philharmonia Orchestra. It’s hard to think of any programme which couldn’t sit under this title. In fact we got L’apres midi d’un faune, the Walton viola concerto and Brahms’s second symphony.

I wish they’d called it Celebration of Youth given the astonishing Angus Webster, still only 20, on the podium and Timothy Ridout, 25 and a BBC Radio 3 New Generation Artist, playing the concerto.

Webster, from Cornwall, is studying under Esa-Pekka Salonen as one of the first Salonen Fellows at the Colburn School in Los Angeles. This concert was his Philharmonia debut and he certainly knows how to coax a fresh sound even from a seasoned group almost all a lot older and more experienced than he. I liked the attractive purity of the Debussy performance especially in the rapport between harp, flute and tremolo strings, delivered with lots of warmth and colour.

Walton’s viola concerto doesn’t get many outings and it really should. Not only is it a fine piece but it’s a treat to see the viola take centre stage – especially in the hands of talented Timothy Ridout. His casually insouciant manner and frequent grins belie his technical prowess and the quality of his discourse with the rest of the orchestra as well as with Webster – he struggles to face the audience, often turning to fellow players behind him like the sensitive chamber music player he clearly so often is. He packed the opening andante with lyricism and found velvety richness in the third movement. His instrument dates from the 1560s, by Peregerino di Zaretto and it sounds terrific.

Conducting without score (as he also did the Debussy) Webster treated us, after a slightly ragged opening, to plenty of lush Brahmsian melody in the first movement of the second symphony which had a distinct sense of a young man’s rejoicing in the glorious grandiloquence of it all. He also gave us very incisive pizzicato passages and evocative dynamics throughout – definitely a performance with a lot of soul. It’s good to see such musical collaboration between the four string section leaders too, especially in the allegretto with all its repeats at which they moved, with Webster, as one, frequently glancing at each other.

Susan Elkin

London Coliseum, 14 February 2020

Set in late-Franco, 1970s Spain this Carmen (revival of a 2012 production) simmers with timeless hot passion and a culture of bullying. All those minor keys, seductive rhythms and earworm melodies do their work along with Bizet’s colourful orchestration, as ever, but in this case the concept of the production really drives the piece. The male chorus are variously soldiers, amateur smugglers and a crowd while the well characterised women convincingly represent mainstream Spain in mini-skirts, shorts, flouncy dresses and the like. Then there are the children, all recruited via the ENO Baylis scheme, doing a fabulously vibrant job. The huge ensemble is diverse in every sense – race, age, size and so on – so it forms a pleasingly plausible picture of every day life in Seville. It all feels very fresh.

Justina Gringyte in the title role has a gravelly contralto voice and some very sexy bottom notes. She is also a fine actor able to command the stage with a twitch of her hips and toss of her head – yes, we can see exactly why Jose (Sean Panikkar) and Escamillio (Ashley Riches) are captivated by her capricious, sulky passion. She also finds the right vulnerability in the devastating final scene: a woman who makes the wrong decisions and whose tragedy is timeless.

Pannikar matches her beautifully and there is some nicely nuanced duet work especially in the last scene. Riches, who is strikingly tall, does well as the bombastic Escamillo too. His big number is so familiar that it’s as hard to bring off as “To be or not to be” in Hamlet but he, and his delicious bass voice, run with it and take us with them.

Alfons Flores’s set is a masterpiece. The stage is usually quite bare which gives the huge cast plenty of space to move in. Occasionally connotative items arrive such as a phone box or a huge, flat, metal, roundabout-style bull. The cars (five of them) at the beginning of Act 3 are a stroke of genius. Not only do they provide a realistic sense of ordinary people trying to get their contraband over the border but they also provide lots of dramatic hiding places and levels for agile performers to hop on and off. Skilfully lit shadow and stage smoke adds to the sultry ambience.

I have reservations, however about Christopher Cowell’s translation. For a start, what little of the spoken dialogue has been left in sounds gratingly out of place – it’s perfectly possible to do Carmen sung through and I wish this production had done that. Second, however hard you try, if you do Carmen in English it can start to sound inappropriately like WS Gilbert. “Roll up and get yourself a fan/Get some oranges while you can” and “But now I love you more than ever/Carmen we have to be together”, for example, make me giggle at inappropriate moments. Of course I understand and respect ENO’s commitment to accessibility and everything in English but banality is an ever present danger.

Susan Elkin

Mote Hall, Maidstone, 1 February 2020

There are few more atmospheric pieces than Britten’s Four Sea Interludes from Peter Grimes. It only needs a bar or two of those ethereal pianissimo high strings and you’re standing on the remote Suffolk coast gazing out to sea. MSO had imported lots of extra players for this ambitious piece (and the Elgar with which the concert ended) so we had double brass, four percussionists and eight double basses – all contributing to the colourful descriptiveness which Brian Wright drew out of the orchestra.

Then we skipped 150 years back to the classical world of Weber and reduced forces to accompany Emma Johnson in the second Clarinet Concerto. Always a charismatic player, she twinkled with delight as she played, turning the concerto into an engaging musical conversation, especially in the first movement. She also gave us a nicely controlled andante and enjoyably sparky syncopation in the third movement.

Unusual programming meant she was again the soloist in another concerto after the interval. Malcolm Arnold’s second Clarinet Concerto is not very well known and, although she played it with panache, it’s obvious why we don’t hear it more often. It’s an incongruous mixture of disparate elements including a long improvised cadenza, a soulful central lento and then “The pre-Goodman Rag”. Even Johnson’s fine playing and Brian Wright’s skilful direction failed to endow it with any sense of cohesion.

And so, finally, to Enigma Variations in which all those mood changes and potential pitfalls were adeptly negotiated with the wit of Variation 3 and Variation 11 nicely brought out. It was also a treat to hear Elgar’s imaginative orchestration so clearly stressed: the tuba in Variation 7, the piccolo in Variation 8 and the viola and bassoon solos in Variation 10, for example. And I admired the tempi in Variation 9 (Nimrod). There often is a tendency to play it so slowly that it feels as if it’s dragging. Wright resisted that by keeping it moving which worked well.

In short, another good night for MSO.

Susan Elkin

Attenborough Centre, University of Sussex, Sunday 26 January 2020

You can rely on Beethoven and Brahms to fill a venue. On this occasion there was scarcely a spare seat in the Attenborough Centre – quite a fillip for the ten year old Strings Attached, whose chair, Mary McQueen, told the audience before the concert that she had never seen the hall so full.

And so to the ever approachable Beethoven Op 18 no 3 with which the Heath Quartet opened their interestingly programmed concert – Brahms sandwiched between early and mature Beethoven. They play standing up (apart from Christopher Murray on cello who sits on a podium which puts him almost at eye level with the other three) which means that their playing is unusually free – leaning into each other with lots of whole body, expressive communication.  They have an intensely sensitive rapport playing like a folk band, as if their instruments are dancing together, and they barely look at the music. Their do-what-you-like dress code is a bit odd – one suit, one fairly formal female outfit, one black shirt and one green – but of course it doesn’t matter.

The andante, built on a four note descending scale came with striking richness of tone and I admired the elegant and witty delivery – like an insouciant chat. The crystalline clarity of articulation in the presto (which has a lot of notes) was impressive too.

Then we moved forward more than seven decades to 1873 into the warm, romantic, lush territory of Brahms Op 51 no 2, leaving the (relative) crisp classicism of 1799 Beethoven far behind. There’s something about A minor for string quartets (Schubert No 13 D 804 is another example) and the Heath Quartet really brought out the lyrical beauty especially in the andante which they played with intelligent dynamic emphasis and lots of contrast. I loved the elegant musical baton passing of themes too which was particularly noticeable in the finale.

Beethoven’s Razumovsky quartets were written only four years after Op 18 but this is post-Eroica symphony and suddenly we are in a completely different “sound world” and new technical challenges such as the ethereal harmony and potential problematic timing of the extraordinary slow introduction. The Heath Quartet played it arrestingly. Also outstanding was the glorious andante with its percussive cello pizzicato underpinning the tightly woven minor key melody and its variations. The control with which the Heath Quartet played the end which dies away to nothing was another high spot. So was the frenzied allegro molto – tiring even to listen too but the Heath Quartet made it sound effortless as well as intense.

All in all this was a very enjoyable concert and I’m glad so many people were there to hear it.

Susan Elkin

The Dome, Brighton, New Year’s Eve, 31 December 2019

The Viennese Matinee for New Year is always a favourite and with Stephen Bell at the helm and Ailish Tynan in mellifluous voice it could not fail. If the programme seemed comfortably familiar there was nothing wrong in that, as Stephen Bell makes the overtures to Die Fledermaus and Countess Mariza sparkle like new and allows us to wallow sentimentally in Lehar’s Gold and Silver Waltz.

The second half brought a little contrast with Sullivan’s Overture di Ballo and the delightful novelty of Ronald Binge’s Faire Frou-Frou¸ before we were back on more familiar ground with Unter Donner und Blitz and – inevitably – The Blue Danube.

Ailish Tynan impressed particularly with the sensitivity of her approach, spinning gloriously delicate tone in Im Chambre Separee to complement the full flooded romanticism of Adele’s Laughing Song, and Meine Lippen. To sit comfortably alongside the Sullivan we heard a deliciously cool rendition of The sun whose rays from The Mikado. Stephen Bell guided us through the music with aplomb, adding his own anecdotes and just the occasional groan-worthy cracker joke.

Encores are inevitable and well deserved – this year Ailish Tynan wooed us with Vilja before we clapped along happily to the Radetzky March. Roll on next year and a happy 2020 to all.

University of Sussex, 8 December 2019

A concert programme as full as this is certainly good value for money and a very pleasant way to spend a Sunday morning: “A belter of a programme as we say in Scotland” cellist, Duncan Strachan told the audience cheerfully at this third concert in the Strings Attached Coffee Concert series. It was, moreover my first visit to the Attenborough Arts Centre at University of Sussex and it certainly won’t be the last. It’s an attractive small concert hall with lots of blond wood and a fine acoustic fronted by a rather good, spacious café wherein to buy the titular coffee first if you wish. And on a Sunday morning there’s plenty of free parking nearby.

We began with Haydn op 74 no 1. The four members of the Maxwell Quartet found plenty of playfulness in the first movement and I liked the understated elegance with which they played the andantino. Haydn tends to write showy first violin parts and of course, Colin Scobie rose ably to the challenge but it is also good to watch the palpable, visible rapport between the other three which enables the whole thing to cohere with such (deceptively?) insouciant energy.

Then for something completely different, Scobie changed places with second violin George Smith for some Scottish Folk Music – first a song and then two dance tunes arranged for quartet. Classical musicians don’t always make such music sound authentic but the “danceability” and sense of fun was faultless here. It was a nice way of reminding the audience that this quartet comes from Scotland and for a bit that’s where we were too.

With Scobie back in first violin seat we were then treated to Visions at Sea, a 2011 work by Dutch composer, Joey Roukens – a very dramatic contrast for the players to snap into which can’t be easy. With mutes on, the piece starts with a melange of harmonics and ethereal glissandi. From time to time we hear snippets of sea shanties and seventeenth century music as the piece rises to a dramatic storm and ends more or less where it began. In the hands of the Maxwell Quartet it’s an interesting musical exploration of the Dutch maritime past. It isn’t easy listening at first hearing and I assume it’s pretty difficult to play but this performance was intriguing enough to make me think I must find this work and listen to it again.

And so to the climax: Schubert D810 (Death and the Maiden) the performance of which was very arresting. I have rarely heard it played with so much colour and feeling and, again, the bonding between Harris, Elliott Perks on viola and Strachan while Scobie was playing the plaintive top line in the andante was very clear. I also admired particularly the nicely judged tutti moments when all four players come together, as if to breathe as one for a few bars, in the busy presto.

Susan Elkin