Friday 9 August, 2013

Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra, Bavarian Radio Chorus, WDR Radio Choir, Cologne, Mariss Jansons

It is fifty years since I first heard Mahler’s Resurrection Symphony at the Proms under Leopold Stokowski and I don’t recall how full the Royal Albert Hall was then given that Mahler was not in fashion. There were certainly very few seats last night when Mariss Jansons led his Bavarian forces in a carefully controlled but compelling reading of the score. The edgy, plaintive opening gave way only fitfully to moments of solace which were quickly snuffed out and the final melt-down to the long first movement seemed to indicate that death was, after all, just a joke.

The second movement was surprisingly light, almost hesitant, in its unfolding, with touches of sentimentality before Jansons took it by the scruff of the neck and forced out any lurking hints of joy.

The third movement was full of gentle dance rhythms and brought us a headily indulgent trio, before Gerhild Romberger, singing from the midst of the orchestra, oozed her way into Urlicht, a magical moment, beautifully executed. She was joined by Genia Kuhmeier in the finale and both soared effortlessly over the enormous forces around them.

The fury of the finale was always tightly controlled, a sense that we were being encouraged to experience without indulging over-emotionally in the narrative. The hushed opening bars from the united chorus were breath-taking, like wind in the trees on a summer night, but once the movement eased towards its climax it was as if the chorus took off by themselves and there was no stopping the inevitable shattering climax.

The orchestra gave us the dynamic range of the work without the rawness which other performers often bring to it, though it never lacked excitement. The extended roar at the end was certainly justified. BH

Sheldonian Theatre, Oxford, 5 August 2013

Christoph Pregardien, tenor; Menahem Pressler, piano

The Sheldonian may not be the most comfortable of venues for most of the audience but this seemed appropriate when undertaking Winterreise with such profoundly moving musicians. Christoph Pregardien’s approach to Schubert’s cycle seemed surprisingly positive in the opening Gute Nacht but one soon realised this, and the occasional angry outbursts, were a futile attempt to address the overarching need to reconcile oneself to loss and eventual death.

Along the way there were many wonderful moments. The final line of Gute Nacht brought just the hint of pain which returned again in Wasserflut. There are brief moments of remembered joy in Erstarrung and Der Lindenbaum but these do not last, giving way to bitterness at the end of Auf dem Flusse. As the cycle unfolded it was clear that Christoph Pregardien was moving us to a point of resignation where we could accept the inevitable. This was possibly the most poignant moment. At the end of Der Wegweiser there was a sudden sense of calm, an acceptance of the inevitability of, almost a wish for, death, which led to a glowing account of Das Wirtshaus. But death does not come and bitterness returns as he flung Mut into the face of fate. The concluding Der Leiermann was enigmatic and disturbing – a perfect conclusion to one of the most profound compositions ever set down, and performed as well as one could ever wish.

Throughout Christoph Pregardien had gently placed the songs to give them a dramatic environment. We saw as well as heard his anger, we saw the crows above; we sensed the warmth of his memory. Winterreise has in some instances been staged, but the sensitive creation here was more than enough to involve us fully in the on-going narrative.

Menahem Pressler’s accompaniment was a miracle in itself. Not only were we aware of the tear drops, the storms and the passion, but the pregnant silences, the breathless hush, were often almost unbearable. Such impact from some of the sparest accompaniments Schubert ever wrote deserved to be heard by themselves – though of course this would make no sense!

Christoph Pregardien can be heard in Schubert again, together with songs by Mahler and Mendelssohn at the Holywell Music Room on 25 October. BH

Sunday 4 August 2013

BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra, Chorus of the Deutsche Oper Berlin, Donald Runnicles

Donald Runnicles is a past-master at bringing excitement to Wagner performances, and this was in evidence throughout an impassioned reading of Tannhauser, with exemplary orchestral textures and ravishing choral singing.

The edition used drew on the strengths of all available versions, uniting the full Venusberg music with the often cut choral sections and some minor characters. This allows us to wallow in the re-writing with its heady Tristanesque passages as well as enjoying the Weberlike passages in act two. I have never found this disparity problematic as it reflects the differences between the Landgrave’s conservative court and the potential anarchy of the Venusberg.

With so much so good, it was a pity that at the heart of the evening lay its one weakness. Robert Dean Smith was able to produce pleasant tone which was always in tune as Tannhauser, but his blandness and lack of involvement constantly undermined the electricity around him. In act one this was obvious in his confrontation with Daniela Sindram’s fiery Venus. It was difficult to understand what she saw in this lacklustre character and why he excited her passion. The presence of the many male soloists only made matters worse. Ain Anger provided a noble Landgrave whose authority was absolute, and Christoph Pohl a romantic Wolfram whose complexity of character was never in doubt. Under other circumstances O du, mein holder Abendstern would have merited applause! Thomas Blondelle sang so well as Walter one almost felt it a pity he had not swapped with the lead.

Heidi Melton’s Elizabeth carried easily over the orchestra, filling the hall with beautiful tone as she greeted it. In act two she had no difficulty dominating the ensemble, whereas Dean Smith was often lost. Her prayer in act three was moving as well as beautifully paced.

All soloists were cast from strength with a pure voiced shepherd from Hila Fahima.

Orchestral playing was exemplary througout with the off-stage brass adding the icing on the cake. The Chorus of the Deutsche Oper Berlin, singing without scores, brought great sensitivity, particularly to sections where they are techinically off-stage or moving in ways which require a change of dynamic intensity. Set alongside the other Wagner we have heard this summer this was a fine performance; it could so easily have been near perfect. BH

BBC National Orchestra of Wales, Thomas Sondergaard

Asked to name a handful of the world’s finest orchestras, the BBC National Orchestra of Wales might not spring immediately to mind, but on the strength of last night’s Prom they are up there with the best.

The evening moved from strength to strength opening with the relentless energy of Colin Matthew’s Turning Point, being given its UK premiere. There is an intense forward thrust in the scoring, much of which is for near full orchestra at full volume, though it meanders at times without any clear sense of potential outcome. Even the quieter, more reflective sections maintain the restless skittering of the opening. Though the final sections are more relaxed, the work never really loses its intensity or underlying anxiety.

Daniel Hope was the soloist in Prokofiev’s second violin concerto and one who knows the work from long experience. A consummately impassioned account, it opened with a rich melancholy which never really left us even in the earthier rustic quality of the final movement. The rapid changes of mood were precisely placed and musically convincing. The more relaxed joy of the second movement was kept in place by an acidic edge which prevented it becoming sentimental. This was a finely considered and yet passionate account of a work we hear all too rarely.

Shostakovich’s Symphony No 11 The Year 1905 has been heard frequently at the Proms but I doubt if it has been heard as well played as this for many years. The hushed opening and strident solo trumpet were a hint of glories to come, the rolling crescendos beautifully paced with subtle dynamic control across the large orchestra. The horn and brass choruses in the second movement excelled themselves, being fiery without ever becoming too raw. It was at about this point I suddenly realised I was in the Royal Albert Hall and was hearing the work with such clarity. Not long ago, writing of this complexity and density would have been lost in the booming acoustic but on this occasion the crispness of the intonation was unexpected and thrilling. This may not be the Birmingham Symphony Hall, but on this occasion it did not matter! The calmer third movement simply prepared us for the onslaught of the finale, with its great clang of bells and brass outbursts. Throughout, Thomas Sondergaard had nurtured the finest and most intimate of responses from his players and they responded with sublime professionalism. The reception was fully justified. How splendid to find that we do not have to travel the world to hear playing of this quality. BH

The concert was recorded for television for broadcast on BBC4 on Sunday 4 August.

After last year’s Don Giovanni I should have been prepared for the inanities of Daniel Slater’s approach to Mozart’s Die Entfuhrung aus dem Serail but even I found it difficult to believe one could treat a work with such disdain.  Refusing to trust the music or the characterisation, the evening is full of ‘ideas’ which work against the emotional truth we experience if we simply close our eyes. That the soloists were, for the most part, so good, made it all the more upsetting. Rebecca Nelson has the measure of Konstanze but was required to do such inept things during her long arias that it was surprising she was able to complete them. Ensembles held up well and the brief chorus numbers were bright and effective as long as one was not looking. That the audience generally seemed to find the whole thing hilarious, even the underground torture chamber, I found disturbing. Needless to say, Mozart’s ideas of compassion, generosity and steadfast love had no place in this concoction.

I note that Daniel Slater is to direct Janacek’s The cunning little vixen for Garsington next year. It is a work I love; I will not be there. BH

Rossini’s opera seria have yet to regain a regular place in the operatic canon, with the exception of William Tell. Garsington Opera have done sterling work to redress the balance and the new production of Maometto secondo will certainly add fuel to the fire. There are so many revolutionary ideas within the score that it is difficult to believe it was written in 1820. The first act in particular regularly sounds like Verdi or even early Wagner in the dramatic intensity of the writing and the ability to shape long paragraphs of seamless music. That there was no applause during act one was not a result of poor musicianship – which was thrilling throughout – but a lack of any gaps to enable us to applaud. The doomed Anna is one of long line of nineteenth century heroines who have to choose between love and duty. Her final suicide is tragic not only because of her individual loss but the loss to society which is un-necessarily polarised. Edward Dick’s production faces the racial and religious tensions full on, creating credible characters none of whom are simplistic or two-dimensional. Paul Nilon’s weak, vacillating governor, prone to turn to his hip flask at moments of crisis, is no match for the macho strength of Darren Jeffery’s Maometto. Anna is torn between her earlier infatuation with Maometto, who she had known as Umberto, and her growing relationship with Caitlin Hulcup’s bookish Calbo. The whole situation is doomed from the start and all we can do is watch it unfold.

However, along the way, there is so much glorious music, wonderfully sung, that the length of the opera is never a problem. As noted the first act contains some of Rossini’s finest choral writing, while solos lift effortlessly from the narrative. If the second act is rather more conventional it contains a number of block-buster arias to thrill any audience.

David Parry’s keeps the musical line tightly under control and his players give rich and colourful support throughout. The chorus – the men in particular – cover themselves in praise. I heard rumour that the production might be recorded – I do hope so. BH

Humperdinck’s opera has been given a wide range of treatment in recent years, from the mythic to the highly contemporary. It is a great strength of Olivia Fuchs’ approach that she trusts the narrative itself but is aware of its fairy-tale origins. Niki Turner’s set places the action on a giant story book, with pop up houses, sinister figures and black suited angels, all within a skeletal beech wood. Yet within this setting the characters are convincingly naturalistic. The parents are dysfunctional; there is nothing comic about the father’s drunkenness or the mother’s suicidal tendencies. Only nature can be trusted, the animals in the forest becoming benign and supportive to the lost children.

If this sounds as though the approach was over-serious it was anything but, with a great deal of real humour, though never at the expense of individual characters.

At the heart of the interpretation are Hansel and Gretel themselves. Anna Devin’s Gretel is superb, a convincingly young girl in her gaucheness and naivety, but with a voice to charm and an openness of heart which was captivating. It is she – more than Claudia Huckle’s tom-boyish Hansel – who wins the day. William Dazeley’s Father is dangerously inept. On a good day, having sold his brooms, all is well but one could easily imagine how dysfunctional he would become if even more drunk than he was on this occasion. It was telling that he had not sobered up even when his children have overcome the evil in the forest. A fine characterisation and a good foil to Yvonne Howard’s equally weak and dysfunctional mother. By comparison Susan Bickley’s witch is all sweetness and light; a vision in pink to go with her sweeties. That the children take to her after the rigours of home life is credible; that Gretel is rapidly aware of the danger even more so given her up-bringing. In this case nature is far more important than nurture.

Martin Andre’s orchestra sounded slightly thinner, more muscular than usual in the first half but seemed more robust and romantic in the second. The children’s chorus was delightful and utterly convincing.

On the night we visited, the performance was being relayed live to Scarborough, and we had an introduction by Sir Terry Wogan live from the stage. Unfortunately, after two nights of glorious weather it was raining heavily – but such are the delights of English Summer Opera. BH

Birmingham Symphony Hall, 22 June 2013

Opera North have reached Siegfried in their annual semi-staging of the Ring and it seems to go from strength to strength. All the previous benefits of the approach are still in place, with the triple screen seeming more subtle in its usage and the sur-titles succinct and apt.

However the major addition on this occasion was the presence of Mati Turi as Siegfried. The part is almost impossible for most tenors and there are few in the world who can do justice to it both vocally and histrionically. Matu Turi is one of them. He sang so fully and lustily in act one I expected his voice to give out long before the end. It did not do so. He also brings a boyish charm and innocence to his characterisation that we can more easily understand the violent excesses of youth. It is only a pity he is not due to sing in Gotterdammerung next season.

The rest of the cast were certainly at an international level with Jo Pohlheim a black voiced Alberich and Michael Druiett a smooth talking Wanderer. Fflur Wyn charmed as the woodbird, leading Siegfried from above, while the rich earthiness of Ceri Williams impressed as Erda. Only Annalena Persson’s over-ripe vibrato in the final scene as Brunnhilde caused any concern.

The orchestra were as fine as ever, with the brass able to growl and flair in ways unobtainable in an orchestra pit. The opening of act three, always one of the most exciting moments in any Ring was given its full authority and the excitement was sustained until Brunnhilde awoke.

Richard Farnes has managed to mould his players and singers over this very long time span with aplomb and we can only look forward to next year with eagerness. BH

Friday 14 June, 2013

Deborah Warner’s production of Britten’s Death in Venice was in many ways an obvious choice for the Britten centenary. Not only is it a remarkably fine and moving performance in its own right but the work encapsulates so many of the concerns which troubled Britten throughout his composing career.

The misty, dissolving settings by Tom Pye and the charged atmospheric lighting of Jean Kalman are an essential part of the production, the black screens and voids reminding us constantly of the presence of death even when the distant vista is stunningly luminous.

Within this dark world, John Graham-Hall’s Aschenbach is ever present, his tortured body gradually decaying as the opera unfolds. From the very first moments we know there is no hope for him, but we follow him to his inevitable end. That we do so easily and sympathetically is a tribute not only to the exceptional quality of his characterisation but also to Britten’s writing which never sentimentalises. Andrew Shore brings the stream of baritone vignettes to life without exaggeration, and there is a fine Apollo from Tim Mead.

The young male dancers are superb throughout, with Kim Brandstrup’s choreography flowing effortlessly out of the stage movement. If Sam Zaldivar’s Tadzio seems rather older than the score implies this in no way undermines the emotional turmoil for Aschenbach.

Edward Gardner handles the score with limpid charm, and it was a tribute to the balance of voices and orchestra that the performance was given without sur-titles and without any lack of impact for the text. While welcoming sur-titles in most cases it was a pleasure here to concentrate fully on the stage action rather than the necessary distancing effect which glancing at sur-titles involves.

John Graham Hall has come a long way since Albert Herring, and is surely now one of the finest interpreters of Britten alive today. BH

Birmingham Hippodrome, 12 June 2013

Jonathan Harvey’s death at the end of last year robbed us of a very distinctive voice among modern composers. While Wagner Dream was never intended as a valedictory piece, it encapsulates so much of the composer’s technical exploration as well as his remarkable ability to engage the listener on a first hearing that it is certainly a fitting tribute to his memory. It is only a pity that the WNO production has received so few performances given its potential appeal and intellectual strength.

The work centres on the death of Wagner in Venice, obsessed by the thought of his unfinished project of thirty years based on the story of Pakati and Ananda, his Buddhist Opera. The structure which Harvey creates is remarkable in itself. The Wagner family in Venice are played by actors who only speak. The characters in the Pakati opera only sing. Wagner himself and Vairochana are the only ones who are able to move between the two worlds. Where singspiel has never really worked in the theatre, and compositions like Fidelio or Die Zauberflote always cause problems in production, Harvey’s solution is unique and remarkably effective. The orchestra is frequently playing beneath the actors’ lines, moving in dramatic intensity without ever swamping them. It is one of the great strengths of the work that everything is remarkably clear, both in texture and musical line. Added to this is Harvey’s use of electronic and recorded sound which allows him to move sound around the building and to bring complete control to the impact upon the audience. There is a wonderful moment early on in the evening when Wagner is speaking and we can hear a singer and piano, somewhere, ghostly, in the background. Similarly the choral music often floats around and behind us. Where Wagner in Parsifal could only place singers off-stage or above the stage, Harvey can place sound anywhere in the auditorium and allow it to move at will. The effect, towards the end of the evening is both beautiful and spiritually uplifting. Where musical theatre has a poor reputation for over-amplification, this was a text book example of how subtle electronic support can be and how effective in production.

The score itself never seeks to beat the audience into submission, as so many modern scores, creating many moments of real beauty and intimacy. The scenes between Pakati and Ananda (Claire Booth and Robin Tritschler) are moving in their gentleness and sensitivity towards each other. However, when he needs to impress, Harvey is able to summon real power and nobility from his small on-stage orchestra. Much of the success lies at the feet of Nicholas Collon whose conducting goes from strength to strength, bringing out nuances in the score which could easily be missed on a first hearing.

There was, of course, no real prospect of Wagner ever finishing his Buddhist Opera, but what we have here is an understanding of the way the composer’s philosophy was moving towards the end of his life, and a fascinating insight into alternative views of Parsifal. Seen in the light of Pakati, Kundry becomes much clearer in her evolving relationship with Parsifal, and the mixing of Buddhist and Christian mythology makes more sense. If only for this, we should be grateful that Jonathan Harvey’s opera helps us emotionally and spiritually to enter into that complex world of religious myth at a time when psychology is just beginning to establish itself.

The work has already been recorded on CD. It would be good to think that it might also be captured on DVD. It certainly deserves a much wider audience. BH