Barbican Hall, 15 January 2016

For many years now I have thought of Sakari Oramo as one of our finest interpreters of Elgar and his handling of the Second Symphony certainly lived up to expectation. He finds so much life and energy in the work without it ever becoming raucous or course, which it so easily can in insensitive hands. Moments of introspection in the first movement never cloud the vitality of the musical line and the wonderful flourish of the end brought a smattering of applause.

The second movement had a nobility to it which countered any sentimentality that might have crept in and he is unafraid of the radiant climaxes within the score which come close to Mahler in their impact. The Rondo was clipped and exhilarant – even dangerous in its impact at times – with great clarity from the brass players. If the final movement felt a little calmer at the outset this was something of a mirage for it built in tension and authority to mirror the darker passages of the Rondo. It is difficult to believe the work had a difficult birth – but then it is far more forward looking than earlier Elgar as this reading clearly showed.

The evening had opened with a finely honed reading of Butterworth’s A Shropshire Lad, the ultra-hushed ppp at the start almost unheard. Sakari Oramo is not afraid of the lush sentimentality which the work allows and he encouraged his soloists to indulge themselves in the beauty of the lines spun.

Between these two we had the UK premiere of Anna Clyne’s The Seamstress. This is a disconcerting title which I admit I don’t really understand for the work is a well-constructed single movement violin concerto. Jennifer Koh had given the world premiere and brought warmth and sensitivity to a work which is commendably easy to take in on a first hearing but I suspect will more than merit a return visit. There are hints of minimalism throughout, with rolling, wavelike figures returning to underpin the narrative. A longer slow pizzicato section falls like exaggerated rain drops, turning into a brief but violent storm, which eases itself into a more aggressive confrontation between soloist and orchestra. When the calm returns we seem to be in a classically refined slow movement with hints of a gentle romanticism. A bridge passage takes us to a lyrically expansive melody and more of the rolling measures we had encountered at the opening until the whole quietly fades. There are hints of Irish folk music present throughout and the sense of a strong narrative line, which is never overtly spelt out, makes it all the easier to engage with on a first hearing. I hope the BBC will let us hear it again – probably too late for this year’s Proms but you never know!

Lighthouse, Poole; 13 January 2016

Liadov’s folk tale-inspired programme piece Kikimora is a sparky concert opener, new to me and, I suspect, to most of the audience in the packed Lighthouse.  Full of unexpected woodwind and other flourishes, it was played with colourful clarity and a lot of wit.

Shostakovich’s unusually structured first violin concerto totally rejects any hint of classicism by opening with a long slow movement. It isn’t easy to sustain but Kees Bakels – a baton-free conductor with an un-histrionic focus on beating time – ensured that the orchestra engaged fully with the soulful enigmatic mystery of Valeriy Sokolov’s lyrical account of the solo violin part. Sokolov then delighted me and (I think) most others present in his contrasting take on the virtuosic passages of high speed Schostakovichian jazzy rhythms which packed exactly the right level of manic melodic wildness with plenty of complementary woodwind detail in the latter three movements – especially the scherzo – and Sokolov’s spectacular, and diabolically difficult, double stopping in the cadenza was delivered with terrific panache.

Notwithstanding the ongoing debate about Beethoven’s metronome markings and intentions, I don’t accept that the opening movement of the glorious Fifth Symphony should be a gallop. The first two bars are three crotchets and a minim and the movement is marked allegro con brio. Had Beethoven meant three semiquavers and a quaver I’m pretty sure he would have written that and marked it prestissimo. In this performance Bakels pushed the orchestra so fast that far too much of the detail became an aural blur which was a pity. The latter three movements worked much better with a rich warm sound, especially from the lower strings in the andante; and what fun – after they’ve sat waiting for three movements – to have the trombones stand when they eventually played. It certainly drives Beethoven’s triumphant message home as the piccolo, perfectly played here, weaved its excited magic at the top of the texture. SE

BBC Symphony Orchestra & Chorus

Barbican Hall, 17 December 2015

A Child of Our Time would not appear to be an obvious choice for a Christmas choral work, but its passionate, heartfelt plea for humanity seemed all the more relevant in the current political situation. The BBC Chorus were on tip-top form with the outbursts thrillingly exciting and hushed moments genuinely moving. Sarah Tynan’s clarion soprano carried easily over the massed choral forces and the richness of Brindley Sherratt’s bass added authority to the narrator. Human warmth was again very evident from the compassionate approach of Alice Coote. The only slightly weak link in this strong group of soloists was Robert Murray. While the voice is finely honed, the actual volume was not strong enough to ride the chorus and so the text was frequently lost.

Tippett’s text, over half a century on, still causes problems but there is no such difficulty with the setting itself, the radiant spirituals drawing all the elements together.

This would easily have stood by itself but we had a first half which was in no way insubstantial, opening with the brief but finely formed potpourri from Oliver Knussen’s Higglety Pigglety Pop. The colour palette impressed throughout as does the subtle use of percussion even if the melodic structure might be too complex for young listeners.

This was followed by Beethoven’s Fourth Piano Concerto with the young Swiss pianist  as soloist. He produced clean, crisp articulation throughout, often light and fluid even where the volume and intensity levels were high. His approach is frequently clipped and percussive, which suits the work well, and the orchestra was carefully crafted by Edward Gardner to mirror the approach. The only minor problem was Louis Schwizgebel’s left leg which seemed to have a mind of its own, flashing out sideways and often tapping loudly. Bring this under control and his performances could be faultless.

The Dome, Brighton, Sunday 6 December 2015

An afternoon of warmly romantic music when the weather outside was wet and blustery. Stephen Bell’s enthusiasm is catching and he added a new layer of energy and life to a programme which was itself full of life-enhancing joy. Dvorak’s In Nature’s Realm may not be the most complex of scores but its sense of light and air was well captured and the melodic fragments danced throughout.

There was more weight to come from Strauss and Bruckner, and the former’s Horn Concerto was dynamically led by soloist . He created a noble, almost heroic, stance in the opening movement and this flowed over into the slow movement with its finely crafted cantabile sections. The bravura stance of the finale was highly effective and roused the audience to a genuinely enthusiastic reception.

Bruckner’s Fourth Symphony, the Romantic, is probably his most approachable for those unfamiliar with the majestic structures he creates. The opening shimmered into life and the climaxes were well built, with a real richness of tone. The brass, who had proved themselves more than able in the Strauss, here excelled themselves with superlative playing even when very exposed. The wonderful sparkle of the scherzo came fully to life and prepared us for the monumental impact of the fire of the finale.

There were a large number of empty seats this afternoon. For such a fine event – and such splendid playing – this was a real pity. Just because the programme did not include Mozart or Vivaldi should not mean that there is not magnificent music on offer.

Then next concert, on 31 January, brings us Weber, Prokofiev and Brahms – and don’t forget the New Year Concert on Thursday 31 December.

London Coliseum, 21 November 2015

Jonathan Miller’s production of The Mikado reached its 200^th performance at ENO with the current revivals – and it still sparkles and entertains as well as it ever did. This is something we will need to return to before the end, but for the moment lets enjoy the success of a fine evening – as much musically as dramatically.

Anthony Gregory is a young singer who is really making his mark. The voice is full and his personality communicates with the audience without obvious exertion. His Nanki-Poo is deft in its reserved approach to life and his singing wins our hearts. If Mary Bevan’s Yum-Yum seems at times to be a little too knowing this is very much in keeping with the approach, and her singing of The Sun whose rays was heart-melting. Richard Suart seems to have been part of the production as Ko-Ko since the start, yet there is nothing jaded about his characterisation which communicates with ease throughout. His Little List was suitably updated, raising extra laughs, though it was noteworthy that Gilbert’s original text raised just as many laughs across the evening. Where elderly critics like myself were brought up on G&S – and have to supress a desire to sing-along to every word – there were obviously large numbers in the audience last night who were unfamiliar with the work or Gilbert’s dry humour.

Graeme Danby and George Humphreys as Pooh-Bah and Pish-Tush showed us how important it is to sing Sullivan as if it were Donizetti, as well as creating believable civil servants. Yvonne Howard is certainly not as plain as Gilbert would like Katisha to be, which makes the denouement for Ko-Ko much easier to accept.  Richard Angus had for so many years been at the heart of the evening as The Mikado as to be a hard act to follow but Robert Lloyd had no problem assuming the vast costume and even bigger character. Let us hope that when it is revived again – as I expect it to be – he and Richard Suart will still be in tow.

Conductor Fergus Macleod may only be 28 but his grasp of the score and his handling of the whole evening was stunningly effective. He seemed to have an innate understanding of the pace needed for G&S and allowed the genuinely romantic moments to blossom. I am sure we will see him again soon.

As for the production, it is now almost thirty years old but has certainly not outstayed its welcome. The tap dancing waiters, the use of affectation in the pronunciation of the text, the comic details which never up-stage the narrative, all demonstrate the strength of the approach. The same is true not just of Jonathan Miller’s other productions – La Boheme, Rigoletto – but of many recent ENO productions. We have had some which have been exemplary and which I have rightly praised here, but we have had others – the recent La Boheme among them – which have not been as good as the production they replaced. The Board at ENO really does need to give careful thought to what it is offering its audiences. Of course we do not want to get stale, but there is a danger of throwing out the effective old for an inferior new.