Thursday 20 – Saturday 22 February 2014

After weeks of depression and floods what better way to celebrate the signs of spring than to dive into an intensive weekend of J S Bach in the gentle charms of Bath.

Thursday 20 February 

We met in candlelight at St Mary’s Bathwick for an evening of French and German liturgical works from The Cardinall’s Musick. The supportive warmth of Rameau’s Laboravi clamans led into a radiant setting of O sacrum convivium, for soprano solo.  Campra’s motet gives scope for Julie Cooper’s ringing top notes and long lyrical lines to dance and inspire – a human touch beside the spiritual. Lully’s trio setting of Ave coeli is more serious, yet the underlying dance rhythm smiles through.

The main work of the first half was Charpentier’s Le reniement de St Pierre. Anyone who thinks of the baroque as florid may be surprised by the sparcity of the scoring and clarity of the text, which moves forward with unexpected speed. In fact it is almost over-hasty until we arrive at the point where Jesus looks at Peter. Here time seems to be suspended and Carpentier immerses us in the pain that Peter experiences and the shame which overcomes him. It is masterly.

The second half moved us into a very different world. Bach uses a small double chorus for Furchte dich nicht. Given the clarity of diction in the French items it was immediately obvious that Bach has less interest in the text being heard rather than the overall impact of the polyphonic writing. Here we are lulled into the spiritual world of the text rather than being presented with it. Schutz’ setting of Wie lieblich sind deine Wohnungen, by comparison, was a model of sensitivity to the text and beautifully sung by the two choral groups. The influence of Venice was not far away as the voices glided effortlessly around the building. The two sopranos gave us a bright and uplifting reading of Der Herr ist gross before the early setting of Quid commisisti. The pessimistic and flagellatory text here does not meet more recent understandings of the spiritual life but the final passages are uplifting as the soul turns to God with thanks for mercies.

The final motet was Bach’s Der Geist hilft with a return to the dance rhythms of the earlier French music, concluding with a Lutheran choral in vigorous style. Andrew Carwood understands the generous acoustic of the building, shaping the music to fill the spaces around them, more than amply supported by Robert Quinney’s fine organ continuo playing.

A wonderful start to a very promising weekend.

Friday 21 February – lunchtime at the Guildhall

Colin Carr brings such humanity to the Bach cello suites that it was a pleasure to hear him again. This time there was a distinct disparity between the two chosen. Moreover this was far more than the need to retune the top string down a tone for the 5^th suite. The 5^th is altogether darker in tone and feels as if it comes from a different age and temperament.

By contrast the 4^th in Eb is as warm and spiritually uplifting as one could wish. The opening Prelude breathes its long phrases with ease and finds a real sense of joy in the Allemande. If the Courante is more dynamic and positive, it is the smile which emanates throughout which captivates the heart. The Sarabande was marginally more reflective but never became introspective while the two Bourrees brought a gentle tongue-in-cheek quality. The final Gigue danced with enthusiasm, revelling in the tiny nuances of tone and rhythm.

By contrast we seemed to be in a very different world with the 5^th suite. The richer texture was immediately obvious and this is a constant for the suite regardless of the movement in hand. The Prelude opens ominously and the fugal section seems to yearn for a fuller setting, as if the other instruments are missing. The Allemande is only just a dance, its broken phrases and sense of fragmentation ever present. There may be more obvious extrovert life in the Courante but there is still a brooding darkness, life a depressive trying to shirk off his mood. The glorious Sarabande hints at late Beethoven in its bleakness and yearning for company. If the two Gavottes are slightly more extrovert in temperament it is wilful rather than joyous. The final Gigue may be dancelike at last but by now any likelihood of joy has been dashed and hope put in its place in the face of insuperable odds.

This was another magnificent performance from Colin Carr. There can surely be few cellists of his insight and sensitivity today. It was a privilege to hear him.

Friday 21 February – evening at the Assembly Rooms

The new deep blue, free-standing back drop made a far more elegant setting within the Assembly Rooms than the steel cage of previous events, and proved a sympathetic environment for the concerti performed by the Academy of Ancient Music. If they seemed at times to be temperamentally at odds with the direction of Richard Tognetti this was more a case of musical approach than technique. The opening concerto for strings and wind by Vivaldi (RV562) had an operatic flair in the outer movements and a sense of mystery in the Grave which was effective and exciting.

Johann George Pisendel was probably an unknown to many in the audience but his Eb concerto for strings had a fine sense of musical line and development. The sombre Andante gave way to a more refined Allegro, allowing Richard Tognetti to give some indication of how fine his 1743 Guarneri actually is.

Before that we had heard Bach’s 3^rd Brandenburg concerto. Unfortunately the pace set by the leader was so frenetic that musical line was garbled, detail fudged and any sense of development lost in the hell-for-leather chase to the end. Thankfully the detail was better in Vivaldi’s concerto in B minor (RV580) with some more reflective moments and a more developed sense of line in the final Allegro.

The second half brought us the finest music of the evening, again from a lesser known composer, Francesco Maria Veracini. His Ouverture No5 has the muscle and melodic stamp of Handel, and a delightful set on dances in the French style. The graceful Menuet, with its fine oboe writing, leads to the bounce of the Gigue and the bravura of the final Rigadon. He is certainly a composer who needs to be explored far more thoroughly. If the balance within Bach’s D major concerto BWV1064 for three violins was better than the earlier work, there was still a tendency to fudge detail and allow the balance between soloists and continuo to mask the development of ideas.

The final concerto returned the horns to the stage for Vivaldi’s RV569. Their joyous conviviality brought the main concert to a close with lively enthusiasm.

A brief Vivaldi encore was the first time we really heard Richard Tognetti’s Guarneri  give any indication of its true worth. A pity he had not chosen at least one work of greater introspection to allow us to hear his more sensitive side.

Saturday 22 February – morning at the Assembly Rooms

J S Bach was such an accomplished organist it is often overlooked that he was an equally respected violinist, often leading his orchestral forces from the violin rather than harpsichord or organ. Christian Tetzlaff gave us an exemplary demonstration of Bach’s consummate ability playing two of the sonatas for solo violin and two of the partitas. The first half proved challenging for both sides of the platform. The Sonata no 2 in A minor opens sternly with a Grave which meanders lovingly towards a fugue which should be near impossible to bring off successfully, given the amount of double and triple stopping involved. The gentle Andante is equally challenging technically and leads us into the serious but fleeter Allegro. The D minor Partita seems almost light by comparison, with its dance sections and pronounced rhythms, yet the Sarabande is plaintive to the point of melancholy, vanishing eventually into silence. The concluding Ciaconna is almost as long as the other movements together, opening with nobility and power, but then finds moments of introspection on its long journey towards an extended close.

The second half moved us into major keys, but the seriousness continued at least in the C major sonata. More relaxed in the opening Agadio, the Fuga is based on a chorale and flows more conventionally, making the whole easier on the ear. The gently unfolding Largo leads into a joyful and passionate final Allegro assai.

The final work, the Partita No3 in E major, seemed almost light after the high levels of concentration needed for the earlier pieces. The familiar Preludio and Gavotte acted as buffers for the other dance movements, sweeping all before them.

There was no encore, and given the intensity of the programme it would have been wrong to expect one. This was a masterly performance of some of Bach’s most complex and demanding scores. We were fortunate to hear it under such fine circumstances and from such expert hands.

Saturday 22 February – evening in the Abbey

A fine evening – in fact the weather had been surprisingly kind to us over the three days – and a warm abbey for the climax of the 2014 festival; Bach’s Mass in B minor with the London Consort. Most of us are used to the work being presented with substantial numbers of choral singers, plus soloists and an equally substantial orchestra. Here the performers were pared down to the minimum, but given the quality of everyone involved there was little doubt as to the exceptional standard of what we experienced. Eleven singers shared not only the choruses but also the solos, moving adroitly from one part to another. Moreover there was no sense of this being a chorus of solo voices, so well balanced were they. The fresh, young sopranos were ravishing in the Sanctus but did not lack weight in the opening of the Credo or more extrovert passages of the Gloria.

There was also impressive solo instrumental work from violinist Penelope Spencer and horn player Ursula Paludan Monberg.

Philip Pickett was unwell and his place was taken by David Roblou who is more normally seen at the organ continuo. He handled the score with natural grace and sympathy for its spiritual life as well as its many musical challenges.

The Abbey was full and the audience highly enthusiastic. Rightly so, for this had been an exemplary undertaking, proving yet again how much can be achieved within a short space of time. We can only hope – same time, next year!

Royal Festival Hall, 13 February 2014

There was a time, not very long ago, when Gerontius was considered short enough to form the second part of a programme. While this is rarely the case today, there are occasions when this can make some sense and coupling it with Strauss’ Tod und Verklarung is probably one of the most obvious.

Strauss’ tone poem makes the same journey as Gerontius through death to eternity and the comparison is fascinating in performance. More than anything else, Strauss moves us into a world of archetypes and universal spiritual journeys, whereas Elgar and Newman are deeply personal. The Strauss also gave Chetham’s Symphony Orchestra a chance to show off their strengths without the competition of choir and soloists. The combined sound of the orchestra impresses, with the strings particularly strong. Much of the solo wind was positive though some entries were hesitant. This was particularly obvious in quieter or more exposed passages. Trumpets and oboes were very finely focussed and Elizaveta Tyun was a strong leader as well as providing effective and moving solo passages.

The Bach choir were joined by Chetham’s Chamber Choir to make an unusually strong impact in the Elgar. Praise to the Holiest and Go forth were highlights of much very finely controlled choral singing, though the text was often lost even in quieter passages. The soloists were all outstanding. Andrew Staples is surely the finest Gerontius we have at present. The voice is strong, focussed and heroic, yet entirely English in quality and wonderfully sensitive to the text. The gentle fading towards I can no more and the visionary Take me away – so much more than a simple request for removal! – were illuminating. He was joined by the more familiar but ever reliable Roderick Williams, who turned the Parsifal-like phrases of the second part with heartrending emotion. Jennifer Johnston  was new to me but recalled Janet Baker at her finest in the warmth and sensitivity of her singing. David Hill kept his forces well under control and was briskly efficient throughout.

The Dome, Brighton, 11 February 2014

Theatre organ performances are even rarer today than pipe organ events, so it is good that The Dome mounts occasional matinees and even better that they are well supported. The console may not rise up out of the pit but the atmospheric lighting, together with the constant movement of the up-lit shutters of the fully enclosed pipework, keeps the eyes involved as well as the ears.

Michael Wooldridge plays from memory and most of his selections are popular favourites. Individual items, including birthday requests, are carefully slotted between longer selections. In the first half we heard music from West Side Story and a Disney medley as well as numbers by Duke Ellington.

Light classical music gets a look-in, and on this occasion we heard Suppe’s Overture Light Cavalry.

Michael Wooldridge is happy to chat between items and brought us details of a forthcoming Young Theatre Organists event in Solihull in July, with which he is heavily involved.

From a purists point of view the musical approach is something of a law under itself. Closer to improvisation than focussed on the written score, the sound produced is often more impressive than the melodic line. While this is fine for most of the scores, the Suppe suffered from some lack of accuracy and finesse in registration. The reeds are certainly fiery but could be balanced with a little more subtlety.

The organ itself is still in good voice and a cypher was quickly dealt with. The large range of percussion stops were very impressive and effective, and the woolly tremulo much in evidence. It would be good to hear the more serious side of the instrument by itself on some occasions, or maybe focus on a different range of music. However, it is always better to have something and want more, than to have nothing at all. BH

The Dome, Brighton, 9 February 2014

The Brighton Philharmonic has a strong tradition of encouraging young musicians, and so it was good to encounter William Dutton from the Yehudi Menuhin School as soloist in Mendelssohn’s violin concerto. After a surprisingly veiled opening movement the rapid pacing of the Andante, with a dance-like lift rather than romantic introspection, led into the furious intensity of the final movement which seemed to better suite his temperament. He gave a technically impressive performance even if there were times when it lacked refinement. This will come with greater experience and for a first outing was stimulating and exciting. Confidence was never lacking and his enthusiasm for the phrasing of the final movement was impressive. If you look William up on line do not be surprised by the references to him as a chorister – yes it is the same, many talented, young man, who has now replaced the violin for the treble voice.

The afternoon opened with Prokofiev’s classical symphony which, as time passes, seems less and less classical and ever more the voice of the composer. The small forces were well balanced and fleet in delivery.

After the interval we heard one of the finest, and in many ways, most easily overlooked masterpieces of the late 18^th century. Haydn’s symphony no 104, the London, constantly challenges the listener without ever upsetting the ear. Page after page of development oozes Beethoven in its shifting patterns and clashes of rhythm and harmony. It is a masterpiece and performed here with clarity of line and a real love of the score from all concerned. More Haydn please!

The English Consort, Harry Bicket

Birmingham Town Hall, 6 February 2014

Cast from some of the finest Handelians available and given the vigour of Harry Bicket’s conducting, this presentation could not fail; and so it proved.

Rosemary Joshua was as limpid a heroine as one could wish, and her Didymus, Tim Mead, a florid counter-tenor who brought genuine emotion to his singing. Sarah Connolly has some of Handel’s most moving music for Irene’s passionate support and consolation, and matched the more rugged approach of Kurt Streit’s Septimus.

Jonathan Best was a late replacement as Valens and seemed a little uncomfortable at first, but soon settled. The choir of Trinity Wall Street were new to me in terms of live performance and brought bounce and enthusiasm in addition to splendid articulation.

The English Consort, for all its limited size, has some splendid soloists, with Lisa Beznosiuk a moving dove for Theodora with her baroque flute.

The important organ continuo part was somewhat lost even in the capable hands of Stephen Farr, and Harry Bicket provided the harpsichord part himself.

Theodora has never had the following it deserves and it struck me on this occasion that part of the problem may be the incomprehensibility of the text. Morell writes in Latin rather than in English, with the verbs at the end of a sentence. Consequently, as a listener, we have little understanding of what is being sung until the end of the first full phrase. To take one example, Didymus sings Deeds of kindness to display and it is not until much later we get to the verb disobey. In English, the text should read Who can disobey the call to display deed of kindness, sue for pity or woo for mercy? Perhaps we need Neil Jenkins to do for Handel what he so admirably did for Haydn! BH

Maidstone Symphony Orchestra, Brian Wright

Mote Hall, Maidstone, 1 February 2014

There was, unexpectedly, a close romantic link between the four works we heard at the Mote Hall last night. Not a sentimental, St Valentine’s, romanticism but the emotional intensity which came from the Romantic Movement and lasted well into the 20^th century.

It is there in every bar of Mendelssohn’s Hebrides Overture. We can almost close our eyes and sniff up the ozone as we indulge in the rapidly changing moods of the sea. Yet this is a beneficent ocean, exciting but never threatening even as it hurls us into the waves. The composer’s experience is closer to the cruise passenger than the surfboarder. All of this was well caught in the ebb and flow of the dynamics, with hazy strings giving way to bright edged wind.

The open-air thrill of the ocean gave way to the melancholy of Sibelius’ Valse triste. Here the strings remain deep within a dark memory, with only the flute and clarinet solos lifting us out of the presence of death. It was moving and uncomfortable at the same time.

Emma Johnson made a welcome return, and even more so with her captivating reading of Finzi’s Clarinet Concerto. Though written in 1949 the first two movements breathe late Elgar both in the introspection of the writing and the air of melancholy. The wistful second movement, with its limpid, rising melody gradually gives way to hope as the clarinet urges the strings into more open and optimistic realms. The relationship between soloist and strings was splendidly captured throughout, leading to the final Rondo whose folk-like melody suddenly moves us into the later twentieth century. Such fine playing deserved an encore and we were delighted with Paul Harvey’s Etude on a theme of Gershwin which evolves as a cheeky set of variations on It ain’t necessarily so.

The second half took us from the melancholy of Sibelius and Finzi back to the heroism inherent in Mendelssohn. Beethoven’s Eroica symphony revisits familiar material in the final movement which the composer had long associated with Napoleon, and while he might have distanced himself once Napoleon crowned himself Emperor, there is no doubting the heroic nature of the symphony. Brian Wright brought out the dance-like quality of the score in many passages, lightening the textures and allowing the solo lines to shine through. David Montague’s oboe was particularly effective in the second movement, but there were no problems with the woodwind throughout. The horns distinguished themselves with the variety of tone produced, ranging from the wild hunting calls of the Scherzo to the softer introspection of the funeral march.

A fine evening – or should I say, another fine evening.

Join us again on 22 March for Schumann, Beethoven and Sibelius. BH

London Coliseum, 29 January 2014

Over the last year, with the Britten anniversary, we have had a number of presentations of Peter Grimes. The revival of David Alden’s production for ENO was certainly justified in its many strengths, not least the casting, but it still has a number of all too obvious difficulties for many in the audience. While the soloists react naturalistically for most of the time, with many very moving relationships created, their relationship to the borough as a whole, and to the movement of the chorus is confusing. This is particularly noticeable at the end of act one where there is little sense of place in ‘Auntie’s’ and movement is over-stylised. Grimes sits like a children’s story-teller for Now the Great Bear and Pleiades, at odds with the intensity of the music. Act two opens more promisingly with at least some sense of the open landscapes of Suffolk and of the sea, though this is lost entirely with Grimes’ hut, requiring the boy to climb up a ladder in order to fall off the cliff.

Stuart Skelton is probably the finest Grimes we have at present and did not disappoint. The sensitivity he brings to the part and the variety of tone he creates is both refreshing and convincing. Elza van den Heever is one of those rare Ellen’s who you feel really could have made something of Peter under other circumstances. Her singing and her presence are firm throughout, covering her emotional turmoil with courage. The large cast is drawn from strength with Iain Paterson’s Balstrode highly convincing. Quite why the nieces are dressed as school-girls given the 1940s setting is one of many strange anomalies in the production, but they sang with sincerity. The great female quartet was one of many musical highlights of the evening.

Edward Gardner drove his forces hard from the pit and there was often a savagery to the score which was in keeping with the hard edge of David Alden’s production.

A welcome revival but there is more to Peter Grimes than even this production shows. BH

There are seven more performances until 27 February.

Bridgewater Hall, Manchester, 23 January 2014

To celebrate the Richard Strauss anniversary – he was born 11 June 1864 – the Halle and BBC Philharmonic orchestras have come together to enable us to hear some of his less frequently performed works. The opening Festliches Praludium was a good case in point. Scored for a vast orchestra including almost 100 strings, the piece was a commission from the Emperor Franz Joseph, and certainly sounds like it. Grandiose to the point of pomposity and sheer triumphalism, it rattles along with hints of Brahms and Weber to keep listeners happy even as they cover their ears at the impact. As if the forces were not enough Strauss uses the full might of the organ and ends with a set of off-stage trumpets. All rather glorious if the forces are available but one would hardly go out of one’s way to hear it otherwise.

The heart of the evening was the performance of four orchestral songs. The first three were sung by Roderick Williams, to, thankfully, a normal sized orchestra. Notturno must be one of the most depressing, near suicidal, works ever composed. The textures are often close to Act 3 of Tristan and there is even a hint of Parsifal at the setting of der tiefen Wunde dunkles Mal. Thankfully Hymnus is more enthusiastic and hope comes at last with Pilgers Morgenlied. Throughout, Roderick Williams was able to carry heroically over the orchestra and bring subtlety to the text.

After the interval he was replaced by William Dazeley in the gothic nightmare Nachtlicker Gang. Here the orchestra is frequently so loud the singer’s voice is completely lost, though the printed text took us neatly through the horrors of the singer’s vision. Pitiless to the end, the climax is so insistent it was never quite convincing. Perhaps it was all too much of good thing and, in a different context, might have made a stronger impression.

No such problem with the final work, Ein Alpensinfonie, which dates from the same period as the songs. The lush writing and strong narrative effects were carried through with ease under the sure handling of Juanjo Mena. The hushed ending brought us safely back to earth after the heady risk of the mountain tops and the terror of the alpine storm.

The series continues with a wide range of events between now and March 2014, involving both orchestras and an impressive range of soloists. BH

Barbican Hall, 16 January 2014

In 1941 Martinu arrived in the USA, fleeing from the war in Europe. At the same time Shostakovich was wrestling with his Seventh Symphony, the Leningrad, while his country was under severe attack from German forces.

The two works which the BBC Symphony Orchestra, under the superb guidance of Semyon Bychkov, presented to us reflected this difference, Martinu’s Concerto for Two Pianos being as far removed from the Leningrad in psychological impact as one could imagine.

Katia and Marielle Labeque were the soloists and their long partnership was amply reflected in the subtle interchanges between them and the fluidity of their approach. Martinu drops us headlong into a full romantic wash of sound, heavily syncopated, but with sudden bursts of unexpected lyricism. If the impact is closer to Gershwin than more familiar Czech music, the composer had spent a considerable amount of time in Paris before leaving for the USA and this west European influence, to say nothing of jazz, is heavily felt throughout. The second movement allows us to hear the pianists individually as well as together without the orchestra. The final movement again enfolds us in a rapid dance which quickly breaks down into an episodic but never uninventive whole. Tiny moments of melody are snatched from the overall percussive approach. Though this may not be a masterpiece it is certainly well worth hearing more often than it is at present.

The warmly lyrical opening of the Leningrad  lulls us into expectations which are not forthcoming. Semyon Bychkov finds hints of Mahler and Sibelius here before the massive impact of the invasion theme. This was magnificently structured, with exceptional solo playing across the whole orchestra. Just when it seemed it could not get any louder the dynamics exploded to an almost painful level. The uneasy calm of the Moderato, with its sudden dark moments and acrid outbursts, prepared us for the hushed interludes of the third movement and the almost lush string sounds that permeate the scoring here. Marie Lloyd’s clarinet playing was particularly noteworthy, giving a plaintive but surprisingly sweet note to the narrative.

The fourth movement has passages of genuine violence, but is it heroic as well? The final pages left us in no doubt of its power and, almost, its fractured nobility, but there was, inevitably a question mark hanging in the air. Can so much anguish and loss ever lead to a genuinely triumphant conclusion?

A magnificent evening, with the orchestra on better form than ever. BH

The Dome, Brighton

12 January 2014

The first concert of the New Year – assuming that the glories of the New Year concert itself was technically in last year! – brought a real rarity in the form of Beethoven’s piano concerto no 6. No this is not a misprint, it really does exist. What is more this is not an attempt to reconstruct a new concerto from the 182 bars the composer actual drafted of a new concerto. The 6^th piano concerto is actually Beethoven’s own arrangement of his violin concerto for piano.

For those of us who know the violin concerto well, it was the clarity of the melodic line which impressed in pianist Andrejs Osokins’ performance. While the piano obviously has extra weight, a fact used more substantially in the militaristic cadenzas, there is never any sense that Beethoven is padding out the writing for the large scale of the piano. If anything he scales back the left hand writing to allow the right to sing more freely.

It may not be a regular part of the familiar canon but it was certainly worth hearing, and very well received.

The concerto was book-ended by Dvorak, opening with three Slavonic dances. Solo work here was particularly impressive, with fine flute playing from Christine Messiter.

Dvorak’s 9^th symphony may be very familiar but its superb writing more than justifies its regular appearance on our concert platforms. Barry Wordswoth brought elan and passion to the work, moulding the long paragraphs with ease, creating a fine sense of fluidity.

The next concert on 9 February includes the Mendelssohn violin concerto with works by Prokofiev and Haydn. BH