CBSO, Birmingham Symphony Hall, 7 November 2019

Since it first opened I have always though the Symphony Hall the finest acoustic in the country for large scale choral works and so it proved once again for a magnificent performance of Elijah this week. Kazuki Yamada brings a dramatic realism to his interpretation, combined with the subtlest of musical nuances, so that the combination is thrilling. There is clarity throughout – many orchestral passages sparkle with the lucidity of the writing – while the constant ebb and flow of the musical line heightens the intensity of the experience.

Yamada is not afraid of the extrovert impact of the score, with the Baal choruses and Be not afraid as heart on sleeve as one could wish, while the gentle uplift of Lift thine eyes is floated effortlessly into the open spaces of the hall.

The CBSO chorus were on fine form, with incisive accuracy and a real sense of enthusiasm, combined with immediate response to their conductor’s wishes. The CBSO itself lives up to its international reputation and it is always worth coming to Birmingham to hear them on their home turf.

They were also blessed on this occasion with outstanding soloists. Matthew Brook proved to be surely the finest exponent of Elijah at present available. Not only does he sing the part with exemplary beauty but he brings a dramatic dynamism to it which is utterly convincing. Where there is a move to stage oratorios today, a performance of this quality makes any extra staging quite unnecessary. Karen Cargill was certainly his match, bringing beauty of line to O rest in the Lord while giving us one of the nastiest Jezebel’s I can recall! The change in tonality and rasp was particularly impressive. If the other two soloists don’t have quite the same scope Robert Murray showed the lyricism he can bring to If with all your heart and Keri Fuge was a moving widow.

Elijah can too easily be dismissed as an old war-horse trotted out to fill a choral gap. Done like this one can only thrill at the experience – and we still have Gerontius to come!

31 October 2019, Islington

Paul Fincham, composer of The Little Princess, which premiered at Garsington Opera at Wormsley this summer invited me to this private recital by Serbian pianist Ljubica Stojanic in his Islington home. I joined about 30 other like minded people – mostly Fincham’s friends, colleagues and people who sing with him in the London Philharmonic Choir.

It’s a novel joy to hear and enjoy salon music played in a salon. We sat in rows at one end of the house’s large all-through sitting room which Fincham uses as a studio and music room. Stojanic played Bach’s French Overture in its rather lovely entirety including all the movements which are usually omitted. With the piano lid open and Stojanic facing her audience it became a very engaging experience because we felt the music with her intimately.  I admired the way she managed the varied moods, time signatures and tempi with thoughtful silent links. She is, moreover, mistress of Baroque decoration. Rarely have I heard so many grace notes and turns.

Then we repaired to Fincham’s generously proportioned kitchen/dining basement area for a delicious supper (some of the best vegetarian food I’ve ever been offered) before going back upstairs and fast-forwarding nearly 300 years for Rachmaninoff  Preludes Op 23. It was a good choice because they’re a varied set of pieces and Stojanic gave us plenty of colour and mood change all played with precision and warmth. She ran very dramatically with the famous, bouncy number 5 in G minor which worked particularly well after the more lyrical one which preceded it.

The great advantage of hearing this music in a very small space (and with an informed audience) is that you can really hear and appreciate the slow dying away of notes at the end of sections until the release of the sustaining pedal. It fosters attentive listening.

All in all this was a very congenial informal recital and I hope we hear a lot more of the talented Stojanic, still only 24, in the future.

Susan Elkin

The Mote Hall, Maidstone, Saturday 12 October 2019

The new season opened in a blaze of warmth and power with Chabrier’s popular Espana. The large orchestra – close to a hundred players – were essentially there for the Strauss in the second half but it made for a large scale and highly extrovert reading of a work too often heard simply as background music to other activities.

If the rest of the evening was less familiar it was none the less welcome. Callum Smart was the soloist in Korngold’s Violin Concerto. If this is not a work which comes immediately to mind when one thinks of the concerto repertoire it certainly has considerable appeal, even though the opening is stark and often feels remote. The odd flashes of warmth display the cinematic origins of the score as does the gentle romanticism of the slow movement. The finale is all bluster and fire, with lurking pirates and historical romances hidden beneath the heroic dances and fanfares. Callum Smart’s warm sense of engagement almost convinced us it was a great work.

After the interval we had Strauss’ Ein Heldenleben released upon us in all its magnificent opulence and virility. Strauss uses the vast panoply of forces at his command to milk both the tonal and emotional palette, and frequently overwhelms with the sheer level of volume – no wonder the orchestra need the new protective shields. Yet within this score there are many hauntingly beautiful moments and many passages of fine solo playing. This highlights a somewhat strange dichotomy within the programming. The solo violin part, admirably played by guest leader Andrew Laing, is effectively a violin concerto in its own right, so that we ended up with two lengthy violin solos by two fine violinists. All very much to our benefit but unexpected if you were not ready for it.

Throughout Brian Wright had galvanised his large forces with tact and skill, particular in the rabble-rousing passages in the Strauss which raised the hair on the back of your neck.

We are on more familiar ground on 30^th November when John Lill joins the orchestra for Brahms’ 2^nd piano concerto, plus Schumann’s 4^th symphony and Beethoven’s final overture for Fidelio.

RICHARD HILLS 8^th October 2019 (Postponed from 24^th September)

The new season of the Southbank International Organ Series opened with this celebration of The Golden Age of British Light Music. Demonstrating the way this repertoire influenced the use of concert organs and the newly emerging cinema organs, Richard Hills had put together an informative and entertaining programme pinned around one of this country’s most influential pioneering cinema organists, Quentin MacLean. From the outset he made clear that the Festival Hall organ was not designed for this repertoire but that he had willingly accepted the challenge to use it as a vehicle to display a range of music, often utilising more unusual sounds and colours to those normally heard.

This concert had been postponed two weeks previously and those of us fortunate to attend the pre-concert talk received some insight into the reasons why – a lightning strike during the afternoon. Andrew Scott, from Harrison and Harrison, who built and maintain the organ, joined the interview to talk about this particular, possibly unique, occurrence.

Richard Hills is a fine organist, at home with a variety of repertoire and different styles of organ. His love of this lighter repertoire shone through the whole evening as he masterfully presented each piece with imaginative and rapid changes of registration. His ability to clearly draw out individual lines and countermelodies was superb.

Opening with Sullivan’s Overture to Iolanthe the programme included music by cinema organists Frederick Bayco (Elizabethan Masque) and Frederick Curzon (The Boulevardier) and well-known composers including Eric Coates (London Suite) and Edward German (Three Dances from Nell Gwynn). A lovely segue beginning with the opening bars of Quentin MacLean’s own Babbling played by the composer himself before being taken up by Mr Hills was very effective. A cross-over with the more “classical” organ world came via Percy Whitlock’s Dignity & Impudence and Plymouth Suite. The final movement Toccata was particularly well executed with the brooding pedal theme building in intensity to a great climax. Robert Docker’s Tabarinage followed by a masterful arrangement of Tea for Two as an encore brought proceedings to a close.

A wonderful start to the new season, showing a very different but equally valid side to the organ repertoire and once again showing the versatility and musicality of organist and organ.

The next concert in the series takes place on 3^rd February, when Gerard Brooks will perform.

Stephen Page

London Coliseum, Tuesday 1 October 2019

The ENO’s ambitious Orpheus project has been launched with Gluck’s masterpiece Orpheus and Eurydice. So far, so good, and thankfully the musical side of the performance is everything one might wish for. Though the edition being used comes via Berlioz, bringing a larger modern orchestral sound, Harry Bicket’s brisk conducting drives the score forcefully and there is much fine playing to enjoy. The soloists are equally splendid. Even though we were asked to indulge Alice Coote as she had been suffering from a throat infection there was no hint of this in her impassioned reading of Orpheus. Equally strongly cast were Sarah Tynan as a waiflike Euridyce and Soraya Mafi’s bright Love.

The ENO chorus seemed to be in good voice but as they were banished off-stage throughout it was difficult to get any sense of nuance from their singing. This decision seemed to reflect Wayne McGregor’s whole approach to the work. Though the opera has a large amount of dance in it, it is not a ballet. The interaction between Orpheus and the rest of the world is a key element of Gluck’s writing. In this production Orpheus does not face any other living human beings. Consequently there is no dramatic action on stage. The nearest we get to this is in Act 4 as the couple return to earth and are alone. Che faro becomes the turning point of the evening and the only moment when there is a cathartic link between singer and audience. For too much of the rest of the evening any potential narrative is dissipated by the dance group whose costuming and movement seem to have little if any relationship to the narrative. Though the costumes are bright and cheerful they are also so abstract as to prevent any idea of time or place. Gluck’s Orpheus is not a stereo-type but a real and very vulnerable human being whose grief is shared by the world around him.

Lizzie Clachan’s vast grey box of a set certainly gives the dancers a lot of space, and Ben Cullen Williams’ videos create atmosphere – particularly effective in the opening grey seascapes – but little sense of contact with the story.

If not quite the success we might have anticipated, let us hope the rest of the project, as it unfolds, gives us a more profound understanding of the Orpheus myth.

CBSO: anniversary season 2019-20

Birmingham Symphony Hall, Thursday 26^th September 2019

It seemed fitting, with the present political convulsions across the world, that the CBSO should choose Tippett’s deeply felt masterpiece as the major choral work to open two years of celebration for its centenary. Elijah and Gerontius will follow later but for now the stark beauty of Tippett’s own text and score seemed even more appropriate and intensely moving. There was one, poignant, difference on this occasion. As we entered the hall we were given the score for the chorus of Deep River and Steal Away. Before the performance started, conductor Mirga Grazinyte-Tyla explained that Tippett had wanted the spirituals to act like the chorales had done for Bach – a link between the performers and the audience. Consequently we were being invited to join in with these. This proved to be a very moving experience, particularly as Deep River ends the work, and so everyone in the hall was involved in the final bars.

If this added to the impact of the performance there was certainly nothing amiss with the music-making. The CBSO Chorus were in thrilling form, finding the balance between emotional weight and clean muscular lines, plus the clarity of text which the acoustic in the hall allows.

The soloists were well matched with Joshua Stewart as impassioned and heroically voiced tenor lead. Brindley Sherratt brought warmth and gravity to the bass part, while Talise Trevigne provided the high-soaring lines of the soprano writing with great beauty. Perhaps the most humane writing is for the mezzo-soprano and here Felicity Palmer was at her subtle best, enfolding us with the comfort of her presence.

Though the playing of the CBSO for the Tippett was as committed as we have come to expect, they had already demonstrated this in their own right in Britten’s Sinfonia da Requiem which opened the evening. Not an easy work, it made a convincing partner to the oratorio. The yearning intensity of the Lacrymosa giving way to the onslaught of the Dies irae, not a sudden plunge into hell so much as an endless, almost eternal, bombardment of pain. If the final Requiem aeternam is more reflective it is none the less stark and demanding. There was no need to point out that both composers were pacifist, the music spoke for itself.

Throughout, Mirga Grazinyte-Tyla galvanised her forces with a mixture of graceful fluency and absolute accuracy, which communicates itself as much to those of us in the audience as, surely, to the performers.

Chapel Royal Brighton 17 September and Haywards Heath Music Society at St Wilfrid’s Church September.

We Sussex audiences don’t know our Spanish piano music, do we? German, Austrian, French – fine. But unless we hear a guitar playing, other Spanish music evades us. We know composers from other countries create pictures of Spanish scenes, even set operas there.

Even de Falla’s Nights in the Gardens of Spain remains unfamiliar to most of us because although it might be seen as one, it is not named as a piano concerto and so we British don’t have a track record of rushing out to hear it performed.

We can think of at least one of de Falla’s two ballets, likelier The Three Cornered Hat. But, famous guitar soloist Joaquin Rodrigo apart, how many other actual Spanish composers can we even name against the clock?  One great pianistic Spaniard, not an Armada naval sailor but a civilian wartime passenger during 1916, drowned with his wife off the Sussex coast after a Nazi torpedo struck. That was Enrique Granados.

The two Sussex audiences last week were listening to his music without even knowing this grim fact. We need help from pianists such as Hong Kong-born Rhythmie Wong to drop in from her Cologne base to open our ears to hidden Spanish delights.

As one of the three prize-winners at Worthing in the 2018 Sussex International Piano Competition, she returned there in November to begin excitingly this process in her International Interview Concert with Book I of Albeniz’ vividly evocative Iberia. I notice as seasoned a British artiste as Imogen Cooper, four decades into her career, has just arrived at recording this piece. Last week, Wong brought Granados to Brighton and Haywards Heath.

We might quickly be tempted to view Spanish piano music as mainly tapas dishes – suites and single-movement pieces. No harm done early on, provided this is not discriminating.

Wong drew from Granados’ Goyescas set his narrative tone poem, The Maiden and the Nightingale, also the sinuously bracing and evocative Allegro de Concierto, and his delightful octet of Valses Poeticos – Melodic, Passionate, Slow, Humorous, Brilliant, Sentimental, Butterfly and Ideal. Much great Spanish piano music is dished up with such accessible non-abstract titles.

Wong appears from the dressing room a neat, graceful, small figure with a self-effacing gait and demeanour, but from the piano stool she disproportionately unleashes a frequently towering arsenal of virtuosic and poetic ammunition, delivered by a romantic heart – not by clinical weaponry.

Allegro de Concierto hit Brighton between the eyes but before all three Granados pieces at Haywards Heath she used a Trojan Horse: a Haydn’s final Piano Sonata, sharply and cheekily offered as a fascinatingly engaging and anything but throwaway starter.

At both recitals she brought Ravel to set our imaginative and cardiac pulses racing with the three-part Gaspard de la Nuit and – these current years her signature work – La Valse. And she performed both, would you believe, back to back with just a short pause for breath. This was not a circus act but a deliberate placing of four canvases close together on the same wall to test the aural effect and artistic impact.

The result was as spectacular as it was arresting. At Brighton her performance was breath-taking; at Haywards Heath it was masterly.

I was fortunate to be the only person at both concerts, and able to appreciate their different seasonings. On the modern Kawai piano at the small lively-walled Brighton chapel, bright and brassy, Wong was able to give the audience less dynamic range, contrast and nuance than the veteran Broadwood enabled her at Haywards Heath, in its larger, less regular space.

The Brighton lunchtime audience reacted to the concluding, climactic La Valse in shocked delight. The knowledgeable elderly Haywards Heath Club, served well by the warmer instrument and acoustic, were deeply thrilled and exploded with noisy acclaim. Their reward was, as a special intimate encore, an arrangement of the traditional Chinese song, Colourful Clouds Chasing the Moon.

The Basque-born and raised Ravel’s creative spirit was far closer to Spain than his Parisian residence. Wong, with insightful logic, successfully teams him with these Spanish brothers in a richly rewarding combination.

Richard Amey