Wales Millennium Centre, Saturday 15^th September 2018

Some works seem ideally suited to WNO and Prokofiev’s War and Peace is surely high on the list. If nothing else the marvellous WNO Chorus is called upon to give of its all, which it does in stunning fashion from the very first note. If the work itself occasionally slows the pace, then the choral scenes are never less that thrilling and often overwhelming.

David Pountney’s production draws of the strengths of his earlier staging of In Parenthesis to bring the action close to the audience and maintain the sense of a narrative unfolding before the participants as well as those seated in the auditorium. For this, Robert Innes Hopkins’ steeply curving set with its two doors is effective for the numerous changes of place and scale, aided splendidly by the projections created by David Haneke, which in turn draw on the 1966 film version of War & Peace. It is all remarkably effective in creating a sense of the epic scale of events as well as the intimacy of the opening scenes in the various noble households.

Singing the score in English is a mixed blessing. For the solo scenes it is helpful in maintaining the narrative but the large choruses lack the edge that sung Russian would bring.

The other great benefit of the ensemble which WNO can draw upon is the strength of the large number of minor parts which Prokofiev requires. Some doubling up was sensitive but so was the use of chorus members for small parts, where there was never any sense of two tiers of singers – all were equal within the cast as a whole.

Of the principals, tenor Mark Le Brocq was outstanding as Pierre and grew in stature as the evening progressed. Jonathan McGovern’s over-smooth Andrei oozed his way through the opening scenes though his death was unexpectedly moving. David Stout sang four roles, including Denisov and Napoleon, creating incisive characters for each. The second half is almost entirely given over to Simon Bailey’s gruff but warmly pleasing Field Marshal Kutuzov, who gives us just enough insight into his private life to create a leader who is aware of his responsibilities.

There are not as many female parts but Lauren Michelle’s Natasha is suitably naïve until the war challenges her assumptions. She sings radiantly throughout and is genuinely moving at the end. The final tableau showing her aiding Pierre / Tolstoy writing up the events makes a fitting conclusion to the work. By contrast Jurgita Adamontye’s Helen is about as narcissistic as one could wish for, her beautiful singing at odds with the nastiness of her character.

A wonderful start to the season. The problem with such vast undertakings is that the likelihood of revival is always slim. Let us hope we don’t have to wait another generation to see the work again.

Cadogan Hall, 6 September 2018

If you want a high quality piano recital cheerfully enlivened with a bit of stand up comedy than catch Steven Worbey and Kevin Farrell in action. Although they aren’t yet a household name they have performed in over 150 countries and seem to astound audiences everywhere they go – we reviewed them here when they played The Carnival of  Animals with Barry Wordsworth and Brighton Philharmonic earlier this year.

Yes, they follow in the tradition of Victor Borge and Liberace but their USP – and it’s quite a coup – is that they play four hands on one piano and arrange the music accordingly. It’s an original take on the concept of piano transcription.  This concert included their versions of Scott Joplin, Vidor’s Toccata and Fugue, Bumble Boogie, Sidesaddle and much more – culminating in a stunning rendering of Rhapsody in Blue.

Worbey and Farrell, who were at the Royal College of Music together, are partners in life as well as in music. Normally I’d regard that as a complete irrelevance but here it isn’t. There’s a comfortable intimacy in the way they play because this is definitely not piano duetting in any conventional sense.  Sharing a single piano stool, they lean across each other, tucking notes in beneath each other’s hands as they race up and down the keys taking most works at phenomenal speed. They told the audience that Joplin stipulated that his rags should be played slowly. “We’ve come to the conclusion”, Farrell said chirpily, “That he just couldn’t play them as fast as we can! So we’ll meet him in the middle.” The joke, of course, was the accelerando in the Maple Leaf Rag after a gentle start.

In addition to lots of humour – they spark well off of each other as comedians too – the concert included extracts from The Carnival of Animals which they developed for the BPO concert. Each number is preceded by an introductory verse which they’ve written and they’re pretty witty.

I also really like the projection above and behind their heads which, with a camera placed near the piano, allows the audience to watch their hands. It’s carefully thought out too. Worbey was wearing floral cuffs while Farrell’s shirt had a scarlet band at the wrist so there was never any visual doubt whose hands were whose.

They are musically highly attuned to each other and achieve some astonishing effects with prestissimo, fortissimo playing especially in the Vidor. Such virtuosic flamboyance is testament to a lot of talent, the chemistry between Worbey and Farrell and many thousands of hours of work and practice. And it makes for an entertaining concert.

Susan Elkin

Royal Albert Hall, Tuesday 4^th September 2018

A Tango concert complete with dancers to give us an immersive, if very rapid, insight into the way the dance craze made its way from the brothels of Buenos Aires to the Royal Albert Hall. A bland statement like this hardly does justice to the emotional excitement of the evening and the hedonism virtually all tango music arouses in both players and audience.

The evening opened with the strings of the Britten Sinfonia accompanying bass Nahuel di Pierro in five early songs which ooze with the smoke and sweat of a cellar bar. During El motive they were joined by tango dancers Vincent and Flavia, better known for Strictly Come Dancing than at the proms, who brought an added level of glamour and sensuality to the event.

For those unaware of the impact of tango the following section may have come as a shock as all the music was from Finland – opening with a tango arrangement of Sibelius’ Valse Triste by Timo Hietala. Five songs followed, sung by Helena Juntunen whose high coloratura can match any opera singer in this hall. An additional unexpected feature was the accordion playing of Veli Kujala whose instrument has quarter-tone settings, making for some surprising, not to say edgy, musical inflections. As if all of this had not been challenging enough in itself, the first half ended with a version of David Bowie’s Sudenkorento (Life on Mars).

If the second half seemed somewhat more conventional it was certainly not lacking in musical excitement as it was led by pianist and composer Pablo Ziegler, who continues in the tradition of Astor Piazzolla, though his own compositions encompass modern jazz and elements of contemporary classical composition. As if to set the scene the second half opened with Piazzolla’s familiar Libertango, before moving into more demanding territory with the furious pace of Fuga y misterio and the aggressive trumpet solos of Murga del amanecer. With all the Bernstein we have heard this season, Ziegler’s Places seemed an appropriately brash evocation of a city at its most dynamic. There was a slight relaxation for Blues Porteno before the very hard edged Buenos Aires Report.

All involved, including conductor Clark Rundell, who had guided us so smoothly throughout the evening, and the three bandoneon players and dancers, returned for the final rendition of La cumparsita – which traditionally ends all tango evenings. With the Proms spreading its wings so aptly one can only wonder what we are in for next year?

Royal Albert Hall, Thursday 30 August 2018

If ever a concert proved that you don’t have to be a glitzty, glamorous visiting orchestra to produce something stunning, this one was it. The London Philharmonic Orchestra and Choir, under their Principal Guest Conductor Andres Orozco-Estrada, quite blew me (and most of the spellbound audience) away with this account of Verdi’s finest opera, sorry, Requiem.

Logistically it isn’t easy in the Royal Albert Hall to stage a work of this magnitude. With two rows of choir on the tiers behind the orchestra and the rest in the lower rows of the designated choir stalls the furthest singers are a very long way from the conductor, who wisely took it all at a measured pace, focusing on musical detail rather than metronomic extremes to accommodate the time lag. Also potentially problematic was the distance between the sopranos and altos across the orchestra but if they were having difficulty hearing each other it didn’t show. And as for the poor tenors and basses standing within inches of the bass drum, they too seemed unfazed. All credit to them. I sang this work standing next to it once in the front row of the altos. Every time the percussionist hit her bass drum in the Dies Irae the vibrations left me literally senseless and unable to breathe or sing for the next three bars.

But Orozco-Estrada, who mouthes with the choir and supports his soloists (including mezzo, Sarah Connolly who stepped in at the last minute) very carefully, ensured that none of that mattered at all. And his focus on sensitive dynamics packed in all the drama Verdi wanted. His opening pianissimo introit was almost imperceptible in its softness. The later forces of the Dies Irae and Sanctus were rivetingly powerful. And I loved the radiant tuba mirum section which, at the performance included the intriguing cimbasso – a form of angled bass trombone.

Also beautifully milked for emotion and melody was the deliciously sensuous lacrymosa with soprano Lise Davidsen and Sarah Connolly in duet against the brass section. Their agnus dei was nicely balanced and sung too.

All four soloists did a good job but tenor Dmytro Popov was utterly outstanding. His Ingemiso section of the Dies Irae brought the sort of clarity and brightness which makes you sit bolt upright in your seat in astonishment and admiration.

The choir (chorus master: Neville Creed) rose to the challenge and did magnificently well too. At full pelt I should think they could be heard down by Harrods – with their excellent tuning and crisp timing, especially in Verdi’s glorious Sanctus.

And finally to that quivering, passionate Libera Me which Davidsen delivered with such intensity that the audience was completely stilled – and that is rare at the Proms. Bravo!

Susan Elkin

Royal Albert Hall, Monday 27^th August 2018

Marin Alsop is one of those conductors whose very presence in the building creates a buzz of excitement. And this time she was at the Proms for the first time with her own “band”, the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra in a concert which marked the end of a high profile Bernstein centenary weekend. The fact that Alsop was a protégé of Bernstein, and knew him well, added yet more frisson.

It was a concert which began and ended with fire. Bernstein’s Slava! (A Political Overture) is a lovely pot pourri of characteristic Bernstein jazzily syncopated melodies and includes a delightful oboe solo, percussionists visibly counting with their bodies and familiar recorded voices over the music to ensure that the piece lives up to its title.

An hour later, the concluding performance of Shostakovitch’s Fifth Symphony was pretty colourful.  Alsop, working without a score, achieved terrific tension in the first movement between the driving strings and interjections or responses from strident brass, gentle woodwind and assertive piano. She is very good too at finely calibrated dynamics and the Royal Albert Hall acoustic supports that especially when it’s (literally) full to the rafters as for this concert. Also enjoyable were the bassoon solo at the opening of the allegretto and the leader’s solo with its sparky glissandi in and out of harmonics. Then we got a suitably mysterious largo with lots of nicely controlled warmth from lower strings and a triumphant rich sound, as incisive as it needs to be, in the fourth movement.

The problem was the jam in the concert sandwich which turned out to be a very restrained, less than jammy,  account of Bernstein’s Second Symphony: The Age of Anxiety with Jean-Yves Thibaudet playing solo piano in what is, in effect, a piano concerto. Of course, the piece is Bernstein in a most sober, Samuel Barber-like mood but it’s a pity to play it so dully. Of course Thibaudet played competently and Alsop ensured that the orchestra supported him effectively but there was nothing engaging about it apart from some nifty zylophone playing.

Incidentally, this is the first time in over 50 years of concert going that I’ve ever seen a page turner on stage with a concerto soloist. There’s no reason why not, of course, but maybe it suggests that Thibaudet is still feeling his way with this piece which is why it seemed a somewhat lacklustre performance? Not that any of this stopped the enthusiastic Proms audience summoning him back for an encore.

Susan Elkin

Monday 20^th August 2018

There was an unexpected link between these two Proms – loss, death and redemption. The lunchtime Prom at Cadogan Hall brought Sakari Oramo together with the BBC Singers for an a cappella concert of English choral music, opening with Frank Bridge’s setting of Shelley’s Music, when soft voices die. This set the tone for the day, its Elgarian melancholy resting easy on the ear before the equally lyrical Vaughan Williams setting of O Earth, lie heavily upon her eyes. The harmony here is particularly effective with the strong bass line supporting at the end as if to raise up the spirits of the mourners.

Holst’s Nunc dimittis seemed conventional by comparison with these first two but the polyphonic feel to the conclusion is effective.

The premiere of Laura Mvula’s Love Like a Lion – a setting of verse by Ben Okri – was quite at home within the earlier English composers. She draws on the spiritual tradition as well as gospel harmonies to create an immediacy of contact yet one that has a very clear voice of its own. Like a Child had delicacy and clarity, while I will not die used solo voices against the strength of the united choir. The final Love like a lion is closer to the spiritual tradition but wears its history lightly. The work was very well received and rightly so as Laura Mvula’s writing has individuality as well as an ability to communicate at a first hearing.

The longest work in the programme was Parry’s Songs of Farewell. It opens with a fine sense of conviction in the face of loss. My soul there is a country and I know my soul speak of faith confronting adversity, and rising above it, and Never weather-beaten sail of the desire for release. However the intensity of feeling seems to get dissipated as the cycle continues. There is an old belief draws on Lutheran modes as well as Elgarian harmonies but it seems as if Parry’s heart is not really in it and by the time we come to the final setting of Psalm 39 there is an uncomfortable sense of simply wanting to get to the end without any overall shape or vision for the outcome.

When so much of the earlier parts of the programme had been so moving it was a pity to end on a rather deflated note.

No such problem at the Royal Albert Hall in the evening where the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra was conducted by Thomas Dausgaard. They opened with a lucid, expansive reading of the Prelude to Act one of Wagner’s Parsifal, the silences being all the more effective within the vast spaces of the hall.

After this they were joined by Malin Bystrom for Richard Strauss’ Four Last Songs. Again it was the clarity of line within Strauss’ often complex orchestration which impressed, allowing the soprano to float over it without any sense of stress or undue pressure. The opening of September shimmered into life, a sense of hardly being there at all held throughout, with the solo violin part in Beim Schlafengehen particularly effective.

If the reality of death seemed all too close in Im Abendrot then the larks at the end brought a transcendency and openness that was breathtaking. One could hardly imagine the work better sung or played.

Royal Albert Hall, Tuesday 14th August 2018

Famously founded in 1999 by Daniel Barenboim and Edward Said, West-Eastern Divan even looks different from other orchestras. It comprises young players from Israel, Palestine and several Arab countries to promote coexistence and intercultural dialogue and you can see the unusual and very welcome diversity before they play a note.

It’s also eye-catching because it’s so huge that it spread along all the tiers right up to the beginning of the Royal Albert Hall’s choir seating although different players come and go for different works – the programme for this rather special concert being as diverse as the players. If anything, the choice of works felt a bit random.

Daniel Barenboim, of course, has become one of those rare conductors who is so beloved and respected that he gets rapturous, near-ovatory, applause even before he raises his baton. In this case he was greeted by a very excited hall full almost to capacity.

We started with the Polonaise from Eugene Onegin. Not advertised in advance, it formed a welcoming, vibrant, tuneful warm up, almost like an encore at the “wrong” end of the programme. Then, still with Tchaikovsky, it was on to Lisa Batiashvili and a rousing account of the violin concerto. Georgian born, she gave us lots of Russian colour with exceptionally clear runs in the first movement. She took it a tad slower than some performers but it was a treat to hear the detail so lovingly articulated. Her dynamics are beautiful too. Filling the vast space of the Royal Albert Hall with very soft trills on harmonics so that every single listener is gripped is no mean feat. Her drama of her finale was well judged and balanced too.

After the interval came the London premiere of Looking for Palestine by David Robert Coleman. It is, effectively, a setting of two scenes from the play, Palestine by Najla Said, Edward Said’s daughter, and tells the story of her thinking about yearning for Palestine at the time of the 2006 war in Lebanon during a visit there and while living in New York.   Musically it’s dramatic with a great deal of interesting percussion – programmatic bangs, whistles and sirens – with anxious twittering strings and a strange twanging across-the-body plucked, string instrument (lute?) which plays a continuo at the front. Barenboim conducted the piece carefully from a score the size of a broadsheet newspaper – the only work in this concert which he didn’t do from memory.

The text was sung in this performance by soprano Elsa Dreisig and that was where the real problem lay. Almost all of it is pitched very high in the voice which meant that the words were, in this case, totally inaudible. Without the printed programme which included the words for this piece it would have been utterly impossible to work out what was happening. The best music speaks for itself. It doesn’t need explanation or resources to support it. I did admire Dreisig’s wistful glissandi, though.

The final work was Scriabin’s 1905 “fourth symphony” which is titled The Poem of Ecstasy and not structured like a classical symphony. It’s a grandiloquent showcase for Western-East Divan and Barenboim allowed all the detail and exotic, sometimes erotic, music to resonate. The principal trumpet got a well deserved round of applause at the end and I liked the way we heard plenty of that slightly grating, gravelly sound of muted trombones adding to the rich chords and cadences. The climactic blaze of bells, drum rolls and scrubbing strings was pretty memorable too.

It was a moving concert because of what West-Eastern Divan stands for – a concert with a sub-text, if you like.  But the standard is impressive as well.  The power of the playing and musical cohesion, especially in the first half, moved me in a different way.

Susan Elkin