Handel: Israel in Egypt

Rochester Cathedral, 7 June 2014

Scott Farrell took over as Director of Music at Rochester Cathedral in 2008 but this was his first time as conductor of the Rochester Choral Society. Added to this, the choice of work had already been decided by his predecessor. No pressure then!

In the event this was a highly successful evening with much glorious music making from all involved. While the solo parts are important, the weight of the evening rests securely with the choir, and most of the first half relies on their stamina and accuracy to ensure we move swiftly and securely through the list of plagues and calamities before emerging into the light of the desert. The opening chorus And the children of Israel cried was taken at a fast pace, a hint of what was to come throughout the evening, pushing the narrative forward and maintaining the momentum throughout. Given that the ranks of men, as so often with local choirs, were heavily outnumbered by the ladies, they were remarkably forceful. In Israel Handel frequently opens a chorus with the men, which puts pressure on them not only for accuracy and attack but for impact. This is particularly difficult in the double choruses but they carried the line with aplomb.

The sopranos proved to be clear and precise, with strongly held top lines. He smote all the first-born of Egypt and Thou sentest forth Thy wrath were noteworthy for their sensitivity.

The solo parts were unusually distributed. Clifford Lister revelled in the dramatic opportunities that the tenor part gives him and The enemy said was sung with fire and a final ornamental flourish which thrilled the audience. Counter-tenor Toby Foster was most at ease in the mellifluous Thou shalt bring them in and treble Raphael Janssens was an inspired choice for Thou didst blow.

There is not a lot for soprano in a very male-dominated work but Rachael Cox saved the best for last with her exultant cry from Miriam and leading a final chorus of bombastic enthusiasm which only Handel can inspire.

The Rochester Sinfonietta provided firm accompaniment, though the addition of two trombones to a Handelian band was a little startling. The continuo parts from Claire Innes-Hopkins, organ, and Adrian Bawtree, harpsichord, were apt and sensitive.

Scott Farrell has made a very distinctive impact in a difficult work. We can look forward to many more fine evenings – the next of which is on Saturday 8 November at St George’s Centre, Chatham Maritime, when we will hear Brahms’ German Requiem.

London Coliseum, 5 June 2014

Terry Gilliam may be a late starter where opera production is concerned but he has an innate sense of theatricality which supports the heart of the work. He returns to Berlioz after the 2011 production of The Damnation of Faust with a more conventional, though none the less exciting, staging of the rarely-performed Benvenuto Cellini.

The most striking thing about the evening is the sense of focus on the narrative and the clarity of the staging, even when the stage itself is awash with moving sets and extended chorus. Where a number of recent operas which have been reviewed on this site have failed lamentably to integrate a production, allowing the extra activities on stage to dominate and at times wipe out the impact of the music, Terry Gilliam is a master of ensuring we hear and see exactly what is happening. The massed crowd scenes at the end of act one, with various acrobats, dancers, fire-eaters and constant movement, never let us lose sight of Cellini and Teresa. Moreover, when the music becomes more introverted – the long monologue for Cellini in act two – there is never any attempt to up-stage the singer by extraneous activity. We focus on the emotional impact of the internal dialogue, not the external world. It is masterly and could teach many younger directors a great deal about the difference between simply entertaining for the sake of it and staging an opera in an entertaining way by clear focus on the text and score.

The complex settings draw on Piranesi’s prison drawings, and while there is a great deal of movement on stage it never once gets in the way of the music nor draws attention to itself. Even the unveiling of the statue – its vast proportions gloriously over the top – is held back until the narrative has effectively run its course.

At the heart of the evening is Michael Spyres richly convincing Cellini. A real workman who happens to be a great artist, the character seems far closer to Hans Sachs than Don Giovanni – for all the drinking and pseudo-whoring that spin around him. The importance of art and creativity are key elements to the text and Berlioz expounds these even when the scoring is light and rapid. Just because the work has humour in it does not make it a comedy. Again, Terry Gilliam found the balance between the two, allowing the opening scene to drift through the audience with a paper storm from above – echoed in the final moments when we were all showered with golden glitter – but never adding comic elements just for the sake of it.

Corinne Winters was a passionate Teresa, a woman of fire and authority, and as such a real foil to Cellini’s own passion. Nicholas Pallesen made a strong impression as Fieramosca though Pavlo Hunka as Balducci had difficulty carrying across the orchestra.

Willard White may not have the vocal resources he once brought to ENO but his Pope Clement was a gentle caricature, closer to Turandot’s China than the Vatican, and won all hearts.

Edward Gardner handled the vast forces with such sensitivity it would have been easy to take it all for granted, but the balance throughout was exemplary and the choral singing magnificent given the constant movement on stage.

The house was full on the first night and I am sure will be throughout the run. Catch it if you can!

Perhaps the most pertinent article in the programme book to accompany the Faith performances this summer was by Karen Armstrong who argued perceptively on the difference between faith and belief. The two operas which WNO are currently staging – to be joined shortly by two versions of Edgar Alan Poe’s Fall of the House of Usher – are both deeply concerned with the dichotomy which any religion faces of making practical decisions on the basis of spiritual or numinous understanding.

Schoenberg’s masterpiece Moses und Aron has waited far too long for another professional staging in Britain. We were at the first performances at the Royal Opera House in 1965 in the staging by Peter Hall under Sir Georg Solti, and they made an indelible impression. Thankfully the new staging by Jossi Wieler and Sergio Morabito, while radically refocussing the work in the modern world, manages to maintain the spiritual complexity of the composition and the constant dilemma for both Moses and Aron.

Where a conventional staging might have given us a more ethereal visual image we are here presented with a strongly naturalistic world within which any spiritual forces will have to fight for acceptance. John Tomlinson’s magnificently troubled Moses is constantly out of place with his tantalising glimpses of the unseen god – a god whom the more practical Aron wants to accept but at the same time wants to make more easily accessible to the people around him. Sacrifices, action, prayers and hymns are far easier than trying to deal with an unseen, undetectable, omnipresent god.

While Moses is present the action remains focussed on the tight dialogue between Moses and Aron. However, as soon as he leaves to meet with god, the situation rapidly falls apart.

In the second act Aron gives in to the demands of the people and shows them a film. We only get to judge its content through the lengthy reactions of the chorus. I doubt if the chorus have ever been as challenged as they were here, but their responses, individually and collectively were utterly convincing. The worship of the golden calf becomes an excuse for a breakdown in any moral authority. It is as if, with no strong leadership, they are incapable of maintaining any moral authority for themselves.

Schoenberg was unable to complete the planned third act and the work ends with Moses great cry of despair as he realises he will never be able to turn his vision into words – or words which can have any practical reality.

Mark Le Brocq took over at short notice as Aron, and his finely honed characterisation, together with a virile but lyrical approach to the score made for an exceptionally convincing reading. The large number of smaller parts were all cast from strength and the chorus was on better form that I can recall. The score is extremely difficult but they sang it as if it were the easiest operetta.

Lothar Koenigs maintained a tight grip of the many groups involved, particularly the off-stage forces, and the whole was so smooth one had to recall how difficult a work this actually is to bring off.

I would love to think we might see it again.

The following night was the first night of a new production of Nabucco. Rudolf Frey had made a good job of Maria Stuarda last year so there was nothing to prepare us for the staging we actually experienced. I felt sorry for the many strong soloists whom WNO had drawn together. For much of the evening, if you closed your eyes, the music was fine. Open them and things could go very nastily awry, even if one was not reduced to outright laughter – as happened to some around me.

An empty black box was gradually peopled by a chorus in modern dress who wandered aimlessly about until the singing started. It was unclear who they were or where they were. According to the normal narrative line they were Hebrews, but there was little indication of this. A few men wore kippahs but most did not. There was even one obviously Muslim women who drew attention to herself by walking with a limp – but she disappeared after the interval.

Once we got to Babylon the vast stage area was surrounded by gold lame curtains, and when Abigaille became enthusiastic about gaining the throne, the stage looked like something out of Britain’s Got Talent. Singers frequently walked around carrying chairs for little apparent reason. Wherever possible, the director opted for the most obvious of clichés, with Nabucco as a South American dictator and the spies all carrying ammunition slings.

In addition the lighting was deliberately expressionist, switching drastically to change the point of focus, all of which was distracting to the action and particularly to the music.

Xian Zhang conducted with flair and brought considerable enthusiasm to the pacing of the evening, and the chorus were as good as they had been the night before for Moses und Aron. Kevin Short was a strong Zaccaria though the hand-jive did not suite him. Robyn Lyn Evans has a fine lyrical tenor for Ismaele but was required to perform like Brad from the Rocky Horror Show and Mary Elizabeth Williams was a confusing Abigaille. The voice is large and powerful but her mannerisms became annoying and her insistence on turning everything into a comic act meant we had no sympathy for her at the end and her death scene went for little.

Hopefully the two Poe settings will bring us back to the fine standards of Moses und Aron and we can quietly overlook Nabucco.

Mote Hall, Maidstone, 17 May 2014

Arriving at the Mote Hall in daylight, with no need to avoid muddy puddles or half-hidden pavements, it must be the end of the season – and what a season it has been. The range of works we have heard and the quality of the soloists has yet again demonstrated the vigour and talent of the orchestra as a whole and the dynamic strength of Brian Wright’s leadership.

The final concert brought us firmly into the early twentieth century with the upheaval of jazz and ragtime, which seemed to permeate all of the works we heard. Ravels’ Suite, Mother Goose served as a gentle hors d’oeuvre with the piquancy of Laideronnette a highlight at its heart.

The benefit of the flat floor is that it allows for the rapid placement of the piano and how pleasing to see and hear a full grand Schimmel. Pianist Tom Poster obviously relished the range of tonal qualities he could coax from it and his performance of Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue was masterly and absorbing. Brian Wright took a somewhat relaxed approach to the opening pages – there was no hint of the Big Band here, rather the heady influence of jazz on a committed classical composer. Time and again individual soloists tried to break free into ragtime or jazz riffs, only to be gently contained within the orchestral format. The tension was compelling and the overall effect highly exciting.

If Ravel’s Bolero is somewhat over-familiar then hearing live can come as something of a shock. Ravel’s orchestration is very sensitive and looking at the orchestra one is aware of the tiny moments of support given by individual instruments, moments which go unheard when simply listening to a CD or worse still on the car radio. I noted the harp in the very early sections, plucking individual notes and then, later, the upper wind doing the same. Each adding, little by little, to the texture we are experiencing. That the orchestra has such accomplished musicians is a tribute to them and this whole evening drew on their strengths.

After the interval Tom Poster returned for Ravel’s Piano Concerto. Possibly the least familiar piece in the programme, the quieter, introspective passages were particularly impressive with a lovely section for piano and harp. The brass came into their own later in the work, seeming to be warming up for the following Gershwin. The jazz elements, always latent across the evening, exploded in the last movement bringing the whole to a joyous conclusion.

As an encore Tom Poster played his own wistful arrangement of Gershwin’s Someone to watch over me.

The evening, and the season, came to a brash conclusion with Gershwin’s An American in Paris. Brian Wright found an effective balance between the sentimental and the raucous, encouraging his players to give of their all.

They will be back in October for the start of a five concert season for 2014-15, and tickets are already on sale. If you can’t wait until then, Brian Wright and Tom Poster will be opening the Bexhill Arts Festival at the De La Warr Pavilion on Sunday 1 June.

PS The Mote Hall is obviously not a concert hall which has advantages and disadvantages. On this occasion – a hot evening – the roof was opened to let out the hot air which was pleasing. However the lighting seemed to be in the hands of the work experience student and was about as unsubtle as one could imagine! 

London Coliseum, 16 May 2014

The most recent WNO production of Cosi set it in a run-down seaside town and boarding house. It was not particularly gripping though it rarely upstaged the music. ENO has gone one further. Phelim McDermott sets his production in an American fairground and motel, and does his utmost to undermine any subtlety that Mozart and Da Ponte are attempting to create.

The overture is swamped by the belly laughs and applause from the audience as various members of the skills ensemble pop out of a box and hold up flash cards. This sets the tone for a very uneven evening. The producer seems to have no trust in either librettist or composer. Dorabella’s Smanie implacabili is made to seem like a joke – as if her emotions are not serious – and Fiordiligi’s Come scoglio is reduced to farce by a constant coming in and out of doors. By turning any aria into situation comedy the psychology of the character is deeply undermined. Ferrando is allowed to sing un’aura amorosa without interruption but this was a rare moment of calm.

Having created a situation in the overture where the audience are encouraged to react, the evening was constantly being halted by applause. Many years ago now Sir Peter Hall at Glyndebourne developed a Mozartian style which allowed the action to unfold almost breathlessly, flowing through arias and recitatives without pause and so maintaining the impact of the narrative line. Here, unfortunately, any excuse for a laugh was highlighted and the interaction of characters left to fend for themselves. If one removed the extraneous detail there was little of any consequence happening on stage.

There were occasional good ideas. Using the magician’s cage for the end of act one was at least logical and amusing. Used within a tighter context it would have been even more effective. However, with so little character development, by the time the end came we were indifferent to the outcome as we had not be drawn to care about these people.

That the singers managed to cope so well was a tribute to them. Kate Valentine and Christine Rice made a well contrasted pair of sisters but were never allowed to develop their individuality with any subtlety. Marcus Farnsworth was a bluff Guglielmo but Randall Bills sounded rather tight at the top of the voice, though this may have been first night nerves. Mary Bevan’s Despina was turned into a chalet maid but she seemed born for better things. Her singing and acting was almost too intelligent for her situation.

Roderick Williams is a consummate performer and has the potential to be one of the finest Don Alfonso’s. He certainly sang the part with humour and panache, but the Sportin’ Life style characterisation was inappropriate throughout.

The orchestra under Ryan Wigglesworth seemed to be on form, even if timing was often adrift between stage and pit.

One noteworthy point to conclude. The surtitles were off on this evening and we all had to concentrate on what we actually heard rather than respond to the words floating above. As such, reactions were far more concentrated on what was actually taking place, and the diction from all concerned was impressive.

Francois-Green Piano Duo at the Dome Studio, 14 May 2014

The lunch-time recital brought a packed audience to the Studio Theatre for a programme which was both beautiful and challenging. Combining Mozart and Schubert with Berg was potentially risky but in the event completely justified.

The duo opened with Mozart’s F major sonata K497 and brought to it overtones of Beethoven as well as a lighter touch which harked back to the early 18th century. The opening movement’s development section constantly strains at the limits of baroque form and seems to yearn for greater flexibility. As if this was all too much for the composer, the Finale seems tongue-in-cheek in its lightness. 

Wozzeck is not a work one would automatically associate with the piano, and extracting the interludes and moulding them into a single movement may seem an unlikely task. That it proved so successful was as much to the credit of the composer as to the subtlety of the arrangement. Berg’s writing is so lyrical that it sweeps all before it. There were strong hints of Rosenkavalier in the opening sections, a point I can’t recall when in the opera house, and throughout the lyrical beauty out-ways any potential difficulties with the notation. The duo obviously delighted in the work and we can only hope it may be taken up by others.

The final work was Schubert’s Fantasy in F minor D940. The contrast was almost too great. Here was lyrical beauty combined with sublime melodic creation. It came close to wallowing at times, but never tipped over the edge.

For a worthy encore they played a brief contemporary Hungarian work where gentle flutterings helped an otherwise indeterminate structure. But the best was left to last with a magnificently sensitive and very gentle rendition of a Bach chorale prelude arranged for four hands. Its simplicity of approach was masterly.

Saturday 10 May 2014

Few new operas make a strong and positive impact on their first encounter, but ENO seem to have struck lucky with Julian Anderson’s Thebans. The musical world he creates is compelling throughout, moving us swiftly and with great clarity through the complex narrative. As with the original text by Sophocles the chorus plays a vital part and choral writing is one of Julian Anderson’s great strengths. In the first act I put my trust in fate is the first of a number of highly effective set pieces, muscular in texture but emotionally clear and precise.

Frank McGuiness has repositioned the three Theban plays to allow for Antigone to die in the middle act and for us then to go back to the death of Oedipus to reflect on why Creon because so brutal and why Antigone makes the sacrifice she does. That this re-structuring works so well is as much a tribute to the quality and clarity of the text as to the music. There are many times when the vocal line in unaccompanied or supported by very few instruments, and even with more bravura writing there is little difficulty following the shifts in characterisation.

Pierre Audi’s production puts all the protagonists on stage in the first act, even those who do not sing, so that we are aware of a close, claustrophobic city, where the crowd mix and mingle uncomfortably with royalty. All this is set within Tom Pye’s cages of rough stone, the sort used for sea defences or hold back dams. It is a highly effective metaphor for the chaos to come, and the broken cage in the final act a telling image for the final destructive moments.

The vocal lines are frequently lyrical with melodic snatches in keeping with the emotional states of the characters. This is often used to dramatic effect as Peter Hoare’s creepy Creon has the most mellifluous lines to sing, while Roland Wood’s Oedipus is rarely given any moments of relaxation. Susan Bickley does not have a lot to sing as Jocasta but her presence is deeply felt as is Julia Sporsen as Antigone, whose presence grows more important as the work progresses and whose music becomes ever more engaging.

Matthew Best’s Tiresias seems to hold the tragedy together, his prophetic impact constantly challenging the wilful actions of the doomed royal family, and adding the only real bass line to the ensemble.

Edward Gardner provides firm direction from the pit, allowing the many textural nuances of the score to evolve with seeming ease and in perfect balance with the singers.

This is a work which will hopefully be revived as it will surely become even more impressive on greater exposure.

Wigmore Hall, 16 April 2014

Holy Week can often bring unusual musical offerings and that was true of last night at Wigmore Hall when we heard settings for Tenebrae, by Charpentier and Couperin, from members of Les Talens Lyriques. During the early 18^th century the Paris theatres closed for Lent and singers were at something of a loose end, so a convent rather enterprisingly established a compromise between a service and a concert. Celebrated composers set the liturgical passages for singers from the opera, with considerable freedom. Music was given within the convent under liturgical circumstnaces but with all the panache of the opera house.

Most interesting, because so unexpected, is the elaboration of single letters. The verses from Jeremiah all start with a single Hebrew letter, and this is developed into a mini-aria or duet by the composer, often more elaborate than the setting of the ensuing narrative.

The result, while rather inflexible in structure, allowed for many delicious moments as the evening progressed. In Charpentier’s Seconde lecon du jeudi the scoring of prophetae tui viderunt provides a small explosion in an otherwise introspective setting, and the concluding Jerusalem convertere is very beautiful.

This was set for two sopranos who tempered their voices to the calmness of the setting. When Amel Brahim-Djelloul sang Septieme repons H117 we heard the sudden flowering of a far more operatic sound. Similarly, Judith van Wanroji brought a Mozartian warmth to Cinquiene repons H115.

After the interval, Couperin’s longer settings proved also to be rather more florid in approach.

All of the Charpentier had been accompanied from the chamber organ by Christophe Rousset, but for the Couperin setting he alternated sections from both harpsichord and organ. Francois Joubert-Caillet was the sensitive viola da gamba continuo.

A rather brief evening, but one which was warmly received and opened a window into a world we rarely encounter.

Barbican Hall, 12 April 2014

Before the start of The Apostles, Helen Petchey, Honorary Secretary of the Elgar Society, presented the Elgar Society Medal to Sir Andrew Davis. This was warmly applauded and recognised his outstanding support of the composer over many years, including his championing of the restored Third Symphony fifteen years ago. In replying to the presentation he hoped that He would continue to be an Apostle for the composer for many years to come.

The Apostles, even more than The Kingdom, has suffered simply because the writing is not Gerontius, and it was a pity in many ways that this performance was following on so closely after last week’s outstanding presentation of Gerontius essentially by the same forces. There was, however, a great deal to enjoy and value here.

Too often The Apostles can take time to catch fire, but there was no problem here with the Prologue breathing the essence of Elgar from the start. The constant shifts of mood in the orchestration were very finely caught, and there was never any sense of triumphalism even in more extrovert passages. A great deal hangs on the humanity of the characters involved, and here Sarah Connolly’s Mary Magdalene and Brindley Sherratt’s Judas were convincing in their psychological shading as much as their more overt emotions. Gerald Finlay and Paul Groves presented less complex characters, but the sense of ordinary men struggling with vast events was always present.

By contrast Nicole Cabell’s angel and Mary seemed to be in a different world, floating above the men and at times removed from them. Jacques Imbrailo brings us a Jesus at once human and yet removed emotionally from the turmoil around him. Elgar does not attempt to investigate Jesus’ mental state or passion, only to see it through the eyes of the Apostles.

The BBC Symphony Chorus has a less demanding task in The Apostles than in Gerontius, often singing in individual sections, but they characterised the different crowds with ease. Orchestral detail was finely controlled and the organ was evident at key points.

Another fine evening. A pity we did not get The Kingdom as well!

 Barbican Hall, 6 April 2014

The muscular humanity of Stuart Skelton’s Gerontius informs every aspect of Sir Andrew Davis’ approach to work as revealed last night. Where cathedral performances can seem distant and ethereal there was an imminence about the reading which was powerfully moving throughout, even shattering at times in its intensity. Stuart Skelton brings us a man close to death but still fully aware of his own humanity, and it is this which carries through into the second part. The pain of Take me away mirrors that of In thine own agony from the first part. His powerful, yet beautifully sung, performance was matched by the radiance of Sarah Connelly’s Angel. No need here for a cautious approach to a fearful soul, her strength matched his and the outpouring of alleluias was thrilling.

David Soar was a young sounding Angel in both parts but matched the humanity of the others with a depth of feeling of his own.

The BBC Symphony Chorus was finely focussed throughout, with many telling moments. The end of Praise to the Holiest seemed more powerful that its explosive opening. The chorus of Demons started quite conventionally but became ever more clipped and aggressive as it progressed, dying to a pathetic dispossessed. The gently rolling finale brought subtle waves of sound which ebbed and flowed around the soul of Gerontius.

In the Barbican Hall it is very difficult to create a real ppp so Sir Andrew did not try. What he was able to do instead was create a range of dynamic intensity which was always dramatically apt. The opening of the first part was more autobiographical than spiritual, and that of the second reflective, almost charming in its relaxation.

We have been privileged to hear a number of very fine performances of Gerontius recently but this will surely be recalled as one of the finest.

It was being recorded for broadcast on 21 April. Catch it if you can live or via iPlayer or website.

Next Saturday, The Apostles.