30 May – 2 June 2013

For the first weekend this year which hinted that summer was really here at last, Ludlow seemed the ideal place to be. Not only was it warm with blue skies but Ludlow had everything one could ask of a small English town. Add in days packed with high quality talks and musical events and one was spoilt for choice.

One of the great advantages of a small festival is that, while there are a large number of events packed into the weekend, there is only one major event at any one time, which means that there is a rapid sense of camaraderie among the audience, who keep meeting the same people hour by hour.

The festival is run by the Finzi Friends and al events focus closely on English Song, while showing a surprising range of approaches and interests.

The opening event, on Thursday 30 May, was a talk by John Bridcut at the Assembly Roons – If Love be the Food of Music – considering the importance of relationships in the lives of composers. Though the information itself was not specifically new, the accumulation of evidence made a strong case. Many composers had difficult, not to say torrid, relationships which can be argued to have had an intense impact on their compositions. He considered Vaughan Williams and Delius in some depth, and recent evidence on the impact on Lady Elgar of Edward’s on-going flirtations with younger musicians. If Delius was the most hedonistic, surprisingly, given our current obsession with paedophilia, it was Britten’s innocent relationships with young boys which became all the more challenging. This was followed up later with a re-showing of John Birdcut’s 2004 film Britten’s Children, a highly sensitive account of the composer’s obsession with young boys, but one which goes a very long way to calm any concerns we might still have today about any illegal activities. The lat David Hemmings makes it quite clear. Britten loved boys, but dropped them as soon as they became young men when their voices broke; his only interest seeming to be their music making and innocent fun.  This fascinating, and often quite intense, presentation set the tone for the whole weekend.

Later that afternoon David Hurley from the King’s Singers gave us a very different talk. While claiming to be an overview of four hundred years of English Song, it was in real terms an overview of the King‘s Singers repertoire. None the less interesting for that, is made a sound introduction to their performance in St Lawrence’s church that evening, though that was not before we had enjoyed a communal Shropshire Summer in the Assembly Rooms.

The King’s Singers programme followed its familiar course, opening with some fine renditions of madrigals by Morley and Wilbye, whose Draw on, sweet night was particularly effective. They then moved to five of Seven Poems of Robert Bridges in settings by Gerald Finzi. Though these are not the finest of his song settings they were unusual enough to be worth including in a festival event, and Clear and gentle stream is certainly very moving. Five Nonsense Madrigals by Ligeti proved stimulating and challenging in equal measure, allowing us to indulge ourselves in the gentler tones of Elgar, Stanford and Parry after the interval. Perhaps the most interesting piece of the evening was Britten’s The ballad of Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard. Smuggled in to Oflag VIIB in 1943, it was first performed at Christmas that year in the prison camp. The piano accompaniment rings out like church bells as the tragic tale unfolds. It has the simplicity of Noah or The Golden Vanity¸ and is most effective. As usual, the King’s Singers ended with more popular items, concluding with a barber-shop version of When I fall in love.

Early the next morning, or it certainly felt like it having not left the Britten film until 12.15am, we gathered for a talk by Roderick Swanston on Facing the issue with words – a finely illustrated talk aimed at countering Britten’s accusation that earlier English composers simply could not set words properly. With a fine range of musical illustrations, both recorded and live, he demonstrated the subtlety of many song settings, often comparing two different settings of the same poem. All of this was convey with a fine sense of humour and an ability to talk to us without burying his head in piles of notes. A fine hour and one where we learned much with great ease.

Philip Lancaster not only sings English Song but is heavily involved in research which became evident in his morning recital in St Lawrence. Alongside works by Stanford and Howells we heard unpublished works by Parry and Finzi. Stanford’s  Song of Hope is an extended arioso from Psalm 130 and somewhat dull compared with Parry’s unpublished Soliloquy from Browning’s Saul. If it has a rather ineffectual ending which Parry might have altered, there is a strong narrative line developed and Parry’s usual keen sense of melody. Finzi’s setting of Rossetti’s Before the paling of the stars is even better. It may be a very early work but is so confidently written it surely deserves publication now.

Alex Mason replaced Shaun Ward at short notice as organ accompanist and also soloist. Though the works were all obviously late romantic they did enable us to hear the Snetzler organ which rings confidently from the north aisle. Vaughan Williams Rhosymedre was particularly lovely.

That afternoon we turned to another side of the festival which was the competition for new songs by young composers. The competition had been launched in 2010, when the festival was last held, and drew on the strengths of young composers in both sixth forms and at university.

We heard from six composers – two from sixth form and four from the older age group – with introductions by Julian Philips who had chaired the panel. The conversations with the composers proved fascinating in themselves and gave us a clearer insight into their works. Being a composer himself, Julian Philips was able to reflect upon the subtleties of balancing not only words against music but the complexities of writing for different voices and different singers, encouraging the young composers to work closely with living poets and singers as they developed their art.

Alex Paxton’s setting of Carol Ann Duffy’s Talent was a clear winner. Not only was it subtle and humorous, but was easily assimilated on a first hearing, while holding back nuances which would develop as one got to know it better. Bertie Baigent won the 16-18 category with a setting of Three Coleridge Fragments. My only concern as a member of the audience was the lack of any audience input into the competition, to take account of the impact of the songs on a audience hearing them for the first time. While I could admire the complexity of the writing and the technical accomplishment, I wondered how many of the audience would actually like to attend a whole recital of music as challenging as much of this was?

Unfortunately examining duties of my own took me away from Ludlow at this point. A great pity as there were two more days of concerts, including a talk from Diana McVeagh  and a master-class from John Tomlinson.

It took three years and a large amount of work from a large anumber of people, not the least of whom was Paul Spicer, the Chairman of Finzi Friends, to mount this Festival under increasingly strained financial circumstances. Let us hope that events as important enough as this are allowed to continue and flourish. BH

The shimmering opening to the prelude and the atmospheric front cloth were positive omens for this new Lohengrin; when the swan arrived this all turned to magic. Few productions that I have seen in over fifty years have managed to combine the stark brutality of teutonic warfare with the mystical realm of the grail so successfully. There may have been some minor problems with illness but these can hit any company at any time. To still be such an overwhelming success is heartening. Added to this the startling conclusion came out of the blue. Gottfried, returned long before the state is ready for him, proves to be as arrogant an authoritarian as any before him, and thus all of Lohengrin’s Buddhist-leaning desires go unrequited – to say nothing of the emotional tangles with Elsa.

Anthony McDonald’s set designs did not look promising in the models, but proved highly effective in performance. The late nineteenth century military costumes, the oppressive Protestantism of the chorus, waving their bibles, and the desolation of the building did not prepare us for Thomas Rowlands’ swan drawing Lohengrin’s boat – two radically different worlds crashing into each other. Though Peter Wedd’s knight looked as teutonic as any of the others on stage, with his short blonde hair and military baring, his clothing is revealed as monk-like, and his expectations towards peace and unity. That he fails is as much a result of the society into which he comes as it is Elsa’s for demanding to know his background. The nineteenth century setting helps us to understand the tension in Emma Bell’s Elsa, torn between fairy-tales which come true and a world which does not trust outsiders. If this were just a fairy-tale, it would be Elsa’s fault for giving in too easily, but we are presented with a palpably real world which does not take easily to genius however useful they are on occasions.

Susan Bickley’s Ortrud is alive to all of the nuances of the narrative as they unfold. She may have little to sing in act one but was magnificent in her silence as she manipulates events. It is telling that she is struck down at the end by Gottfried as if he has inherited Lohengrin’s power which overcame her husband. It is difficult not to feel sorry for Telramund, and Claudio Otelli makes much of the nobility of the character as well as his authority. The opening of act two was particularly effective in the shifting power relationship between Ortrud and Telramund.

There was an apology before the start for Matthew Best who had a throat infection. He sang bravely, and we put in the top notes for him where they were missing. What proved more interesting was the unusually hesitant characterisation he gave which I do not think was simply as a result of his vocal problem. He seemed to be showing us a weakened King, who needs an outsider like Lohengrin to galvanise the situation. At the end he is at the mercy of Gottfried – woe unto the country where the king is a child.

Throughout the evening the chorus had sung magnificently, the raised staging helping to project the voices in the outer acts and the close proximity helping in the second. Accuracy and flair were never in doubt.

The orchestra have been on superb form for some time now and this built on their reputation for Wagner in Die Meistersinger two years ago. I have never heard the act three entr’acte, with ten trumpets in the auditorium, so thrillingly played. It was a fitting build into the final scene, where Peter Wedd started In fernem land sitting and speaking quietly to Elsa, becoming gradually more powerful until we were aware of the anger he felt at having to announce who he was.

I do hope that this production will be revived. In a world that is too often at the mercy of directorial ideas which go awry, here is a production which does no disservice to either music or narrative but would allow for differing approaches to any of the lead parts. Let us see it again soon! BH

St George’s Church, Kemptown, 20 May 2013

The Elias String Quartet were effectively in residence for the Brighton Festival, giving three recitals all drawing on the Beethoven Quartets. I caught the final concert, which, like the earlier ones comprised of three contrasting compositions from across Beethoven’s lifetime. At St George’s for this final event they brought us Op18 No5, Op59 No3 Razamovsky and Op131.

The venue was sold out and the audience highly enthusiastic. I say this because I found difficulties with their approach. While there is no doubting the technical skill and versatility of the players, their approach is more than simply spirited. They frequently seem to be attacking the works with such violence that the result is uncomfortable and overtly aggressive. The opening Allegro of Op18 No5 was often frenetic in its created tension and the Menuetto seemed exagerated in its phrasing. The gentler variations in the Andante cantabile worked far better but the movement was still hard driven, before an extrovertly aggressive final Allegro.

I had hoped that this might simply have been their approach to the earlier work. Certainly the atmospheric opening of the Razamovsky was impressive and the following Allegro vivace more civilised. However the Andante was unexpectedly stark and the cello pizzicato passages violent in their attack to the point of discomfort. A modern composer may ask for this level of ugliness but I found it out of place in Beethoven. The Menuetto produced some warmer phrasing with a better internal balance, but the hectic hell-for-leather approach to the Allegro molto did little to bring us to a satisfactory conclusion.

The Op 131 Quartet in C sharp minor suffered in exactly the same way. I can understand that there will be listeners who find this approach challenging and stimulating, but I regret it was not for me. BH

BBC Symphony Orchestra, Barbican Hall, 17 May 2013

This proved to be an exciting evening, opening with a new commission by Jonathan Lloyd. new balls for wind ensemble is in many ways a companion piece to old racket for strings which was premiered last month. Distinctly tongue in cheek for much of the time – there is a false ending forcing us to applaud while the work actually continues – it opens soulfully and often seems disjointed, with phrases dying out or being drowned out by other instruments. At one point the solo flautist stands for what one expects to be a highlighted solo line, only to be overtaken to the point where he is inaudible. However the work eventually builds to a strong climax and we know we have reached the end.

Stephen Hough was the soloist in Brahms’ second piano concerto, in a bright extrovert reading. James Gaffigan had conducted Brahms’ Fourth Symphony in Brighton the previous Tuesday and brought the same level of immediacy and authority to this performance. The second movement was fast, almost furious at times, even in the more reflective string melody. The cello phrasing in the third movement was superb and the final movement brought sprightly, snappy rhythms from all involved. Throughout, Stephen Hough had found a joyous enthusiasm combined with lyrical finesse.

Tippett’s first symphony proved to be equally enthusiastic, the density of the writing pre-echoing A Midsummer Marriage (which I am glad to note will be performed at the Proms this summer). If he had abandoned an earlier symphony as being too Sibelian there was no doubting that this was pure Tippett, particularly the writing for strings in the opening movement, and the wind ensembles. Low strings in unison open the second movement creating an uneasy tension which is taken up by flute choirs and muted trumpets. After moments of introspection and doubt the movement suddenly flowers before dying away.

There are overtones of the Ritual Dances in the sparky Presto which exults it its lyricism before the overt enthusiasm of the final Allegro moderato with its elusive ending. The symphony is such a fine piece without the potential difficulties of the later symphonies; it is a surprise it is not heard more often. BH

Lufthansa Festival of Baroque Music 2013

The Lufthansa Festival has made regular visits to Westminster Abbey over the years and the event has become a highlight of the week. A packed Abbey had gathered to hear works by Purcell, himself once organist of this very building.

With the Abbey Choir at the heart of the event it was natural to open with My beloved spake using soloists drawn from the choir itself. The setting suited both the occasion and the balance of voices, floating Purcell’s relaxed harmonies into the gently echoing spaces of the abbey’s vaulted roof.

The choir sang with precision and a sound range of dynamics throughout, ending the Ode for the Birthday of Queen Mary of 1691 with considerable enthusiasm.

Iestyn Davies was a late replacement but very warmly welcome given the demand he is in these days. He opened the Ode, following the trumpet led symphony, and set a high standard from the start in terms of impact. As the work progressed it became clear that all the soloists were equally gifted, with admirable input from Benjamin Bevan – himself another late replacement – Mary Bevan and Charles Daniels.

The arrangement of the soloists on the platform was rather disconcerting. They were seated in the side aisles and frequently had to move behind the choir to the other side before they came on to sing.

After a brief interval we heard Hail, bright Cecilia! the ode for St Cecilia’s day, 1692. Charles Daniels lyrical tones excelled in ‘Tis Nature’s Voice and Mary Bevan ‘s brief Thou tun’st this world was equally appealing.

The surprise was the apparent mismatch between the text and the orchestra. The singers spend the whole of the second part of the ode extolling the virtues of the organ, in particular its range, power and authority. Purcell was organist in the Abbey, and while the current instrument is obviously of a far more recent date, the composer would surely have expected a far large sound than the rather feeble chamber organ which was used? There seems to be no compromise today between using a robust sound, which is close to that which Purcell would have known, and the softer tones of a chamber organ which are fine in context, of which this was not one.

James O’Donnell conducted throughout with deftness and tact, if erring on the side of caution rather than excitement.BH

The Dome, Brighton, 14 May 2013

Some concerts which look pleasantly conventional on paper can prove to be unexpectedly exciting in delivery. Such was the BBC Symphony Orchestra concert under James Gaffigan in a programme of Mendelssohn and Brahms, where the only unusual item appeared to be Hartmann’s Symphony No2.

Hartmann managed to survive in Germany during the war and promoted new music in the country up until his death in 1963. Although trained by Anton Webern his music is entirely his own, drawing together strands as disparate as the atonal school and late romantics. The Second Symphony was eventually completed in 1946. Although titled Adagio, that hardly does justice to the range of moods and dynamics of the single movement structure.  The work opens in great tension before a solo for baritone saxophone cuts through with hints of The Rite of Spring. Though there are many hints of Strauss and Mahler, it is Stravinsky that the work constantly returns to in its undercurrent of tension and danger. At its climax it releases a ferocity at breakneck speed which mounts towards its denouement.

After such excitement the other works could have seemed rather bland; it was  anything but. James Gaffigan takes a lean and athletic approach to Mendelssohn’s violin concerto and Veronika Eberle has the technical finesse and passion to meet it. Her bright tone and powerful playing were coupled with moments of sudden introspection in the opening movement. The Andante was taken at a dancing 6/8 rather than the more conventional relaxed 3/4, and led to a flirtatious finale, where the beauty of the cello line almost stole the show. The enthusiastic reception was very well deserved.

Brahms’ Fourth Symphony may have felt more relaxed than the Mendelssohn but was as strongly structured, with hints of nobility and heroism in the opening movement. The precise, almost clipped, phrasing of the Andante moderato seemed to hint at Elgar in its warmth, and there was a brash enthusiasm in the Allegro giocoso. The final movement brought finely textured contrasts, with a limpid brass chorale before the fire of the final moments.

A splendid evening, worthy of any festival. BH

London Coliseum, 11 May 2013

Where many directors have taken an expressionistic or even caricatured approach to Wozzeck, Carrie Cracknell creates a naturalistic narrative, driven by the horrors of warfare and the emotional damage which war does to society. Tom Scutt’s set is made up of claustrophobic rooms, tightly set on top of each other, with no sense of daylight or a world outside. Within this environment individuals seem uncomfortably real. Tom Randle’s Captain and James Morris’ Doctor, both finely sung, seem at ease within the seedy bars and illegal dealings which surround them, their quiet viciousness at one with the omnipresence of death. It is death which is the idée fixe of this production; military coffins are brought in and misused as much as venerated. Soldiers respond to the dullness of routine and boredom, with drink and drugs. It is all too plausible and becomes increasingly shocking for that very reason.

Within this environment Leigh Melrose’s Wozzeck tries to make sense of the world but we are forced to witness his emotional melt-down. It would be easy to justify this in terms of post traumatic stress, but that is not necessary in a world which does not care about the individual. Wozzeck cannot cope with the pressures he is under and eventually cracks. Leigh Melrose’s performance is a masterpiece of nuance, as we follow the gradual disintegration of a man who obviously has fine qualities but has no chance to make them work for him. Sara Jakubiak’s Marie is strongly sung and characterised, her relationship with Wozzeck always on a knife edge, with the day-to-day realities of making ends meet leading to a succession of affairs. Her growing involvement with Bryan Register’s bombastic Drum-Major is led as much by her own desires as it is by the need for money. It is unclear in this production if the child, a boy not quite in his teens, is actually Wozzeck’s own, given that they have only been together nine years.

Other solo parts are drawn from strength and the chorus are clearly individualised. The children, ghostly figures for much of the evening, are all too recognisably normal in the final scene, whose casual violence is all the more horrific.

Throughout the evening, the orchestra had been far more than an accompaniment to the action. Edward Gardner finds subtleties, in particular late romanticisms, in the score which I have never heard before. The climax at Wozzeck’s death is shattering and over-powering. The orchestra have been on splendid form all season, but have rarely been as good as this.

Berg’s masterpieces are all too rare in our opera houses, given their importance to the development of the genre in the twentieth century, so it has been a delight to welcome this new production alongside WNOs’ Lulu. BH

More performances until 25 May. www.eno.org

Theatre Royal Brighton, 9 May 2013

We are used to site specific presentations but it is not often that a conception is so closely linked to a particular building and set of performers. In approaching Britten’s Canticles Neil Bartlett wanted to ensure that those developing the individual sections worked within the parameters of the bare stage at the Theatre Royal and only rehearsed on that stage, coming together with the musicians a few days before the first performance.This gives a frisson not only to the sense of immediacy but also to the high level of trust between the various components and their presenters.

At the heart of the creation is Ian Bostridge, singing as beautifully as ever but lending an astringency to the music which acts as a link throughout the five sections. He rarely leaves the centre of the stage and in many ways the world revolves around him.

Though the Canticles were written over a period of 27 years, their spirituality, more than anything else, is what unites them, and it is this heightened awareness which made the evening so satisfying.

The emotional out-pouring of love in My beloved is Mine is mirrored by dancers who combine the most banal of acts – sharing breakfast, getting dressed – with the pain of parting, and this flows easily into Abraham and Isaac where lovers become father and son, with the threat of imminent death coming between them. Ian Bostridge was joined by Iestyn Davies in a touching scene, the text carrying the weight of the action without any need for extraneous movement.

John Keane’s film for Still falls the rain was possibly the least successful idea as the extended video worked at a different rhythm to the music, setting up unexpected and often contradictory responses. Richard Watkins’ solo horn was sensitive and moving, drawing us back to the intensity of the music rather than the visual images.

Paule Constable approached The Journey of the Magi through the most subtle of lighting, suggesting constant transitions while the singers remained static. Given the unsettling nature of T S Eliot’s verse this was remarkably effective, and made an apt prelude to Wendy Houston’s direction of The Death of Saint Narcissus. Where Julius Drake had been ever-present at the central, and very dominant, piano so far, now he was gone with only the delicacy of Sally Pryce’s harp playing to compensate. The sense of a slow drift towards death was implied in every note and every step from Dan Watson’s shadow, twirling against the black vastness of the Theatre Royal’s stage. The falling curtain seemed like the final act in a crematorium, cutting us off from another world.

A festival performance in every sense of the word, and one which can be caught when it moves to Aldeburgh on 11 May and the Linbury Studio, Royal Opera House 10-12 July. BH

St John’s, Smith Square, 8 May 2013

A promising career as a concert pianist was cut short in 1990 as a result of a trapped nerve. Since then Angelo Villani has gradually worked towards a full return to the concert platform, and this was his first solo recital at St John’s, Smith Square. That he continues to show great promise is without doubt, but the concert was uneven in delivery and impact.

He opened very strongly, linking three Debussy preludes into what was effectively a lyric suite. La Terrasse des audiences du clair de lune, an unexpected rarity, was given a gentle, improvisatory approach, dwelling on the solitariness and loneliness of the composition rather than any potential romantic yearnings. This was in splendid contrast to The Girl with the flaxen hair, whose warm romanticism mirrored the cool deliberation of the opening prelude. Minstrels proved a suitably tongue-in-cheek conclusion though it highlighted the darker moments of the work with skill.

The following two Chopin nocturnes never quite came to life. A reserved, almost hesitant, approach to Op9 No1 never allowed the musical line to blossom and Op9 No2 seemed at times perfunctory in its lack of phrasing or clear dynamic structure.

Reminiscences of Tristan und Isolde was heralded as a premiere of a new concert paraphrase. In the event it was a short but dense arrangement of the Liebestod. It opened strangely with a musical line which is not in the opera, working its way towards the Tristan chord, after which it moved rapidly towards a combination of the orchestration for the love duet and that for the Liebestod. It was difficult to tell what was in any sense new in this arrangement, and the phrasing only occasionally came close to the over-powering impact of the work in the theatre.

This ambivalence towards the works being played continued in the second half. Angelo Villani obviously has a great deal to offer, but this concert only went a small way towards proving it. BH

Glyndebourne Opera House, 5 May 2013

Sublime is an overused epithet but when one comes to sum up Paul Lewis’ performance of Schubert’s late piano works over the last two years there is really no other word that does them justice. On a radiantly sunny Sunday afternoon, with picnics out for the first time this year, he drew the cycle to a close with performances of the last three piano sonatas, D 958-60.

Hi stage presence is stark. Wearing black against Glyndebourne’s black fire curtain and a black piano he almost disappears, but this is fully in keeping with an approach which eschews histrionics and focuses entirely on the music.

The opening Allegro of the C minor sonata has strong Beethovian echoes but quickly mellows to a more romantic and gentler impact, moving seamlessly into the beautifully crafted Adagio, with its moments of authority and nobility. The Menuetto’s rapid figuration brought a return of tension which carried over into the final Allegro, where lighter moments only served to highlight the underlying anxiety.

The emotional range of the A major sonata is even greater than that of the C minor. The Allegro proved warmer than anything we had encountered in the previous sonata with even greater fluidity, though Paul Lewis also found an edgy undercurrent which seemed at one with the following Adagio. It was difficult to ignore the shadow of Winterreise which seems to hang over this movement, both in the cantabile opening and the contrasts between delicate phrasing and painful tensions, and a final chord which fails to settle. The Scherzo comes as something of a relief and prepares the way for the melodic outpouring of the final Rondo.

The Molto moderato which opens the B flat major sonata is more highly developed than anything we had previously heard this afternoon, and here it was the momentary silences, the stillness, which impressed, as if the music hesitates to speak. Unlike the earlier Rondo movement Schubert seems driven by the melody here, returning to it in ever more fascinating ways, toying with it in an almost improvisatory way. This mood continues into the Andante which frequently seems to blossom and fly as if released from the tensions which had underpinned so much of the earlier scores. The joy of the Scherzo led to the deeper warmth and extrovert enthusiasm of the final Allegro.

It has been a long journey, but Paul Lewis has taken us deep into Schubert’s heart in a way few musicians have ever done before. BH