The Dome, Brighton, Sunday 8 February 2015

On paper this appeared to be a very pleasant classical Sunday matinee. A sandwich of symphonies with a piano concerto in between should have worked well but the actual choice of works proved more problematic. Unless the listener has a very keen ear for orchestration the three works could easily have flowed into one continuous stream of easy listening.

The afternoon opened with Haydn’s Symphony No83 La Poule. Thomas Carroll brought a lightness of touch with clipped rhythms in the first movement and a gently melancholic feel to the Andante. Anthony Hewitt was a very relaxed soloist for Mozart’s Piano Concerto No27 with its familiar final movement. The Steinway piano seemed rather too hard in the opening movement but the soloist eased into his playing and the finale was delightfully wistful and delicate.

Schubert’s Fifth Symphony may have been written over twenty years later but looks back to Mozart far more than to the innovations of Beethoven. Only the occasional challenge within the Andante helped us to realise when it was actually composed.

Over the afternoon the wind had very little to do apart from strengthen the tutti passages, except for a few fine phrases in the Schubert. As a result the matinee slipped past without any really arresting moments and was noteworthy – certainly from where I was sitting – for rather more gentle snoring than is usual. Possibly the most exciting moment was the highly professional dispatch of the piano during the interval.

If we had heard Haydn’s Surprise Symphony rather than La Poule we might have been more attentive to the fine playing that was in evidence.

ENO, 7 February 2015

Wagner’s The Mastersingers of Nuremberg has long had a special place in the heart not only of ENO audiences but also of the company itself. It was Mastersingers that first brought the Sadlers and Wells companies together in the mid-sixties for the first time and launched the series of Wagner performances under Reginald Goodall which in many ways created the company we know today.

Despite the rumbles we hear of behind the scenes, the standards that were set back then are more than obvious is this most recent production under Edward Gardner and Richard Jones.

First seen over five years ago at WNO, the production seems lighter now, more subtle both in its characterisation and musical weight. The drama unfolds swiftly and inevitably, with constant concentration on the text and the interaction of character. Not that this should in any way imply that there is a problem with the musical standards. This is one of the finest sung and played performances I can recall with all parts drawn from strength; but Wagner himself intended that the text should lead the hearer not simply the beauty of the musical line, and it does so with sharp clarity. It is one of the few times where having the surtitles in addition to the opera being sung in English really pays off.

Given that everything in Mastersingers hangs on the quality of the Prize Song Gwyn Hughes Jones’ Walter is totally convincing. His Now begin in Act One gave us a hint of what was to come but few Walter’s have the stamina to carry this level through to the end. No problems here; the Prize Song came over as fresh and lyrically mellifluous, a truly convincing winner.

The relationship between Sachs and Beckmesser is also a surprisingly subtle one. It is quite clear that they are close and that the upset is an aberration in their friendship, which, one suspects, will be quickly healed. Iain Paterson’s jovial Sachs is confused by his feelings for Eva and his quiet tear in act three is one of a number of gentle indications of his depths of feeling for her. Andrew Shore’s Beckmesser may be a stickler for regulation but he is a more complex and likeable character than is frequently the case. James Creswell is a noble Pogner and Rachel Nicholls shines as Eva – but as already noted there are no weaknesses in the casting.

The final scene, and in particular Sachs’ narration can be a stumbling block for producers today but Richard Jones circumvents this by letting the whole cast step out of character to point us, as the front cloth does, to the importance of German art and thinking, which Wagner himself intended.

With so much quality on stage it would be easy to overlook the importance to the whole of Edward Gardner’s deft handling from the pit and the enthusiastic brilliance of the choral singing.

How anybody could even think of seriously criticising a company that can create productions of this quality is – well – Mad!

The Mote Hall, Maidstone, 31 January 2015

Flautist Harry Winstanley may have been introduced as local boy makes good but there is nothing remotely domestic about his international reputation or his technical prowess. Nor is he limited to performing. The first half of the concert was built around two substantial and challenging works for flute and orchestra, the first of which, Paul Taffanel’s Fantasy on themes from Weber’s Der Freischutz had been orchestrated for this performance by Harry Winstanley himself. It is a sensitive arrangement, thinning out Weber’s orchestra so as not to overwhelm the soloist but retaining just enough brass to allow significant impact in climaxes. The work opens with Agathe’s Leise, leise fromme Weise and wends its way through to Annchen’s Einst träumte meiner. On the way the flautist indulges in increasingly elaborate ornamentation like a Bel-canto Diva on a benefit evening. It was intoxicating and hugely enjoyable. Prior to this we had heard the overture to Der Freischutz where the horns had excelled themselves though the piece never really caught fire.

Carl Nielsen’s Flute Concerto is equally demanding of the soloist and makes even more demands of the audience. There is a constant tension between the soloist and the orchestra which changes moment to moment in emotional intensity and melodic invention. At one time the flautist seems to be trying to calm the orchestra whereas at others they seem to be forcing him to go into areas his gentle, almost naïve musical line clearly does not want to pursue. The introduction of the snarling trombone at the end leaves us with a lurking doubt as to just how seriously we should take the work. Maybe we should just sit back and enjoy it and not worry about the journey?

After the interval we were in much safer territory with Dvorak’s sixth symphony. The influence of Brahms is obvious throughout but this is Brahms with a smile on his face and the Czech folk influence is never far from the surface. The brass are very exposed but proved themselves more than worthy of the challenge with ringing fanfares at both ends of the work. There is a gentle optimism in the slow movement which was supported by rich string playing and occasional darker moments passed quickly as the woodwind bring back the sunshine. The scherzo was furiously driven like a whirling folk dance throughout and brought us to the melodic delights of the finale, Brian Wright maintaining a lightness and sense of joy throughout.

The next concert on 21 March brings us the Elgar Violin Concerto with a change of soloist. Bartosz Woroch returns to play for us in place of Ulf Hoelscher.

The Dome, 17 1 15

It may have been a dull winter’s evening but the music spoke of light and energy throughout, with a richly romantic combination of late nineteenth century works.

One the benefits of hearing operatic overtures in the concert hall is the greater clarity it brings to the score and none more so than the Prelude to Humperdinck’s Hansel und Gretel. This is post-Wagnerian writing at its best, with the melodic lines sliding effortlessly around each other to create an enveloping cocoon of sound. Rory Macdonald’s crisp approach and clarity of line meant that the counterpoint was clear throughout and the subtle shifts in mood pointed without being over-extended.

Lambis Vassiliadis’ approach to piano playing reminds one of the stories of Liszt with its explosive dynamism and authority. His approach to Chopin’s Second Piano Concerto was virile throughout with the left hand often hammering out the chords to a point where one wondered if the instrument could take the weight. And yet there was nothing unmusical about the performance; it was totally convincing and inspiring. If Rory Macdonald had seemed to be taking a very precise approach to phrasing in the opening section, Lambis Vassiliadis created a continuous gentle tension with his use of rubato and rapid changes of mood. Long passages would build to heady climaxes only to disappear into thin air.

He gave us a lengthy Lisztian encore which was even more dazzling technically and left the piano needing a rub-down and a rest. (I later found that this was Liszt’s Reminiscences of Norma)

The sense of the open air which had been evident in Hansel und Gretel returned with Dvorak’s 8^th Symphony. Breathing light and a sense of the joy of life throughout, it allowed us to hear some very fine solo playing along with the warm intensity of the strings. If tempi were on the fast side, the symphony never seemed rushed, rather there was a delight in the ability to spin musical lines with such ease. The splendid trumpet solo which opened the final movement led to a set of variations with real bite and attack, at whose heart was the gentle cello melody which seemed to encapsulate the joy of the whole.

A splendid evening of exceptional music-making.

One observation to add in passing. When I go the Brighton Philharmonic concerts nobody ever applauds between movements and the coughing is kept well under control. Last night there was applause throughout and coughing was often uncomfortably obvious. Does Brighton really have two different audiences for classical concerts?

The Dome, Brighton, 11 January 2015

Andrew Gourlay brought bite and enthusiasm to his reading of both the Brahms’ Piano Concerto and Beethoven’s 7^th Symphony. The symphony was conceived as a single arch, opening with controlled crescendi before launching into the gentle dance of the first theme. There was nothing deadly about the slow movement, its rhythms seeming closer to the scherzo of the 5^th rather than the funeral march of the 3^rd. The third movement romped along with a rather soupy Trio from the horns before we were almost literally blown away with the speed of the finale. It was a compelling approach which was obviously to the taste of the audience.

Brahms’ first Piano Concerto proved somewhat more problematic. Tempi were again on the fast side, with a fine sense of tension between the more strident passages and Brahms’ more indulgent moments. However, not until the final movement did the soloist, Martin Roscoe, seem to be fully at ease with the orchestra. Though there had been nothing to fault with his own approach, in the opening movement his playing had seemed somewhat distant from the intensity of the orchestra. Thankfully he suddenly came alive in the finale which was full of fire and virility.

It would not seem like New Year without the Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra’s annual gala at The Dome, and this year was no exception. Stephen Bell guided us from the podium through a rich collation of familiar Strauss pieces, along with just a soupcon of unusual works, and arias from soprano Susana Gaspar.

Suppe’s Overture Poet and Peasant started quietly with a finely crafted cello solo from Peter Adams, but soon rose to more extrovert enthusiasm which became the hallmark of the afternoon. Strauss Polkas dominated the shorter items, with Josef’s Ohne Sorgen, Johann’s Tritsch-Tratsch, Champagne and Pizzicato Polkas. For more substantial works we heard Roses from the South, Enjoy Your Life, the overture to Die Fledermaus and inevitably The Blue Danube.

Josef Strauss’ delightfully delicate Die Libelle- the dragonfly, was a particular highlight of the first half and in the second Peter Adams was again the soloist for the first Romance for cello and orchestra by Johann junior. This provided a gentle interlude between more substantial items but still reflected the enjoyment of life in late nineteenth century Vienna.

Susana Gaspar brought us operatic favourites in the first half, with an incisive Quando m’en vo and a plaintively seductive O mio babbino caro. Turning to operetta in the second we heard Adele’s Laughing Song from Die Fledermaus and Lehar’s enchanting Meine Lippen from Giuditta. It is difficult to realise that Lehar’s last operetta was written in 1934, almost a century after the first Strauss waltzes, and at the same time that Schoenberg was moving to America.

The final vocal item on the programme was a rarity – Heia! Heia! In den Bergen from Kalman’s Gypsy Princess and proved to be a barnstorming number before the Blue Danube.

Needless to say encores were demanded and we came closer to home with I could have dance all night from My Fair Lady before the Radetsky March sent us off to celebrate the New Year in fine style.  

The Temple Festival ended a fine week with Messiah but this was anything but a conventional performance. King George always complained about Handel having too many fiddles so we can assume he would have enjoyed this arrangement by Stian Aareskjold for wind band and continuo.

This was as a result of a link between the Norwegian Wind Ensemble and the BBC Singers, for which this Messiah was a return visit.

While much of the accompaniment sounded surprisingly close to the original there were many moments which suddenly came to life in a new way – the saxophone solo in O thou that tellest; the Bach-like intensity of the solo flute and continuo in If God be for us – and the use throughout of the variant versions of individual items, all kept us on our toes.

A brisk overture led to an intense reading of Every valley from tenor Samuel Boden and a crisp first chorus from the BBC Singers. Celebrating their 90^th anniversary the BBC Singers were in excellent voice, the diction carrying easily across the Temple Church even at high speed.

David Hill takes a strongly narrative approach to his performance, building from a fast moving but somewhat reserved start to an ecstatic outpouring at the Hallelujah chorus which continues right up to the end. Adding in the organ during the Amen chorus was a stroke of genius, giving that final lift – and gravitas from the pedal – which brought the evening to a triumphant close.

Along the way there had been many splendid musical moments. Soprano Fflur Wyn was delicate for the angels at Christmas and radiant in I Know that my Redeemer liveth. Counter-tenor Robin Blaze sang the solo version of He shall feed his flock mellifluously, and the duet and chorus version of O Death, where is thy sting? Samuel Boden’s finely-focussed tenor brought us the alternative version of Their sound is gone out and a spikey attack in All they that see him. Mark Stone was a late replacement as Bass soloist and brought real authority to his arias. His commanding performance of The trumpet shall sound really deserved applause for that one aria alone.

There is no such thing as a definitive Messiah but this was certainly among the most enjoyable I have encountered for some while.

The Dome, Brighton

Sunday 7 December

Barry Wordsworth may be basking in the delights of the Antipodes but that has not stopped the season from providing exceptional music-making. On paper, yesterday’s concert looked somewhat odd. Most programmes hang themselves on one or two key items but here we had eight shorter works reflecting a composer’s response to the life and landscape of the country as a whole.

In one sense they were all national composers for even Mendelssohn came to be seen as an English composer in the same way that Handel had done. His Hebrides Overture set the tone for masterly reflection on the impact of the sea. This was followed by Butterworth’s hauntingly subtle vision of A Shropshire Lad. In the opening passages the dawn eases in before the sun rises, but this is not the cathartic explosion we experience in Strauss but the gentle warming of an English summer sun. The structure was very finely caught by conductor Richard Balcombe who seems to have an innate sensitivity towards English music.

John Bradbury is far too rarely heard as a soloist. His magnificent New Year’s Day concert a few years ago remains firmly fixed in the memory, but his superb playing was very much in evidence for Vaughan Williams’ The Lark Ascending. Rarely have I sensed the various levels of the open-air as in this reading. While the woodwind provide hints of the bird life close to the ground and the cheerful folk melodies of the people below them, the lark sores above dipping and diving until at last it disappears not just from view but from our aural perspective. This certainly was a blithe spirit reflecting on the spiritual life of the world below. A masterly performance – when we will hear him again as soloist?

By contrast Hamish MacCunn’s youthful overture Land of the Mountain and the Flood seemed rather prosaic if easy to assimilate.

Sullivan’s Pirates of Penzance has little to do with Cornwall but the overture proved a cheerful opener to the second half before the more demanding Norfolk Rhapsody from Vaughan Williams. Though not as popular as the Lark its subtle beauty charmed us with ease.

The final two items were unarguably popular. Malcolm Arnold’s brief Four Cornish Dances have rather more to do with Cornwall than the Sullivan but they are distinctly tongue-in-cheek, particularly the rousing third dance in homage to Sankey & Moody. Then we came to Eric Coates and his London Suite, concluding with a rousing rendition of the Knightsbridge March. Most of us in the audience recalled this only too easily from In Town Tonight, but it was none the less nostalgically very welcome.

The next concert is the New Year’s Day Viennese Gala on 31 December, followed by a programme of Brahms and Beethoven on 11 January.

Mote Hall, Maidstone,

29 November 2014

Brian Wright was quite correct in his thinking that the programme of works this evening epitomised both the planning and strengths of the orchestra. What might appear to be a conventional set of items – Suite, Concerto, Symphony – brought a number of specific challenges both for the players and the audience, and a soloist of international acclaim.

Aaron Copland’s Appalachian Spring may seem very familiar but its rhythmic complexities and solo lines are traps for the unwary. The hushed, almost sultry, opening lulls us into a false sense of ease which is gently dispelled as dawn breaks. The playing had a slight rawness to it which was in keeping with the integrity of the score. This is not a sentimental work but a vision of the openness, both physically and spiritually, of a community prior to mass industrialisation and urbanisation. Copland looks back with his eyes open even if nostalgia creeps in. Once we passed through the variations of Simple Gifts we returned to the focus of the work, the love of the newly married couple and their relationship to the world around them. In the final bars, three stars come out, like a gentle blessing on their love. A magical moment.

It should be difficult to follow this but Giovanni Guzzo’s handling of the Brahms’ violin concerto was so captivating it almost made us overlook the start. He produced a radiant sweetness of tone, across the full range of his Stradivarius, but no violin is as important as the quality of the musician playing it. The orchestra rose the challenge of his playing, producing a bite and pulse which supported the clarity of his phrasing. The second movement seemed faster than usual moving the music forward with a subtle passion and heading us into the joyful exuberance of the finale. Thankfully he gave us an encore – the slow movement from a Bach violin sonata – which proved intoxicating in its slow unfolding and gentle phrases. Please ask him to return for the Mendelssohn!

Vaughan Williams’ Fourth Symphony may have been written ten years before the Copland but it has all the shock of the new. The terror explodes from the opening bars and the intensity of the writing never lets up. The slow movement may be quieter but it never smiles, and even when the Scherzo arrives, the outward sign is more a grimace than a greeting. The marches of the final movement prefigure Shostakovich and have all of his doubled-edged attack. Is there any hope here? Not a lot. Is this a vision of the future or a man distracted by the building of the Dorking by-pass? In the end neither matter for the symphony, played with remarkably tight control of its rhythms and some fine solo playing, is a massive outpouring of pain in a world which seems to be running out of control.

Next time – Weber, Taffanel, Nielsen and Dvorak – Saturday 31 January 2015.