ENO, London Coliseum, 15 February 2013

Why has it taken so long for Charpentier’s only obvious operatic masterpiece to reach the professional stage in London? With a positive embarrassment of baroque performances these days, it almost looks as if the composer still suffers the same exigencies of fortune as he did in his own lifetime. Thankfully David McVicar’s production, in stunning sets and lighting, goes a very long to making up for this dereliction.

The opening two acts feel very familiar territory for David McVicar. We are in a rather over-comfortable aristocratic environment which talks much of war but seems keener on dressing for dinner than actually fighting. Brindley Sherratt’s De Gaulle-like Creon is matched by the American swagger of Roderick Williams’ Orontes.  That both come to a sticky end is inevitable from the start, though the opening acts are full of entertainment which might seem out of place taken by themselves, but are a complement to the desolation of the end. As such, the gilded aircraft and Lindy-hop dancing are entirely apt. This is a society running rapidly towards its own destruction.

In the midst of all the glib entertainment is Sarah Connolly’s intensely focussed Medea. An outsider from the start, appallingly treated by all around her, her vengeance is all the more comprehensible. At first she seems simply to be a cheated woman, lied to and abandoned, but we quickly realise the complex politics which surround her are a Gordian knot which needs a knife to unravel it. There are subtle hints of incest from the royal family which Medea plays on when she invokes the spirits.

The knife itself becomes an idée fixe in the final acts. There is little blood in evidence but the blade flashes at us with ominous intent. Sarah Connolly has a wonderful ability to stand absolutely still and yet command attention. While the world falls to pieces in act four she is static, almost unaware of the impact of her power. Most challenging of all is the conclusion. Where one might expect some sort of catharsis, and given the date of the work, some religious resolution, there is nothing. Medea literally rises above it all. She has destroyed those she loved, leaving Jason alone alive in agony, and she is drawn up to the stars. No punishment, no divine retribution. Death is the end and she has conquered.

The mirror floor of Bunny Christie’s vast palace set allows Paule Constable to create a series of stunning visual effects, ranging from the most subtle misty greys to golden watery reflections which spin out into the auditorium.

The Large cast is drawn from strength and the chorus are kept to the edges, allowing the many smaller parts to make individual impact. There are no weaknesses on stage and it is a tribute to ENO that they can cast so well. This is arguably the finest thing Sarah Connolly has done – one tends to think so far – and she is surrounded by splendid voices from Jeffrey Francis’ lyrical Jason, the richly nasty Creon of Brindley Sherratt and Katherine Manley’s vapid but ultimately tragic Creusa.

While I have to admit I could not get on with Castor and Pollox this Charpentier was as good as it gets.  BH

Barbican Hall, 9 February 2013

BBC Symphony Orchestra and Chorus, Martyn Brabbins

There is a good case for using live music with a wide range of films and presentations of Able Gance’s Napoleon and the 1925 version of Ben Hur are obvious examples.

Prokofiev’s score for Alexander Nevsky has suffered from the simple fact that the sound recording is one of the poorest that Eisenstein produced and does little justice to the quality of the composition even if it has its own special resonance. Prokofiev arranged the score into a choral cantata, and it is this which forms the basis of the version we heard at the Barbican Hall on Saturday. Does it work? Well, up to a point. The scoring is exciting and the almost entirely musical battle on the ice takes on a life of its own. However, the changes between the original soundtrack, hissing like a bad 78, and the clarity of the live orchestra is frequently disturbing.

One of the most effective moments is the long alto solo, beautifully intoned by Catherine Wynn-Rogers, at the end of the battle, where the survivors search for loved ones across the bleak landscape.

Martyn Brabbins brought enthusiasm and superb timing to his handling of the whole event, and there was some splendid playing from brass and percussion, but I was left wondering, given the wonders of digital technology, whether it would not be possible to merge the original soundtrack, suitably cleaned, with a new orchestral recording. BH

London Philharmonic Orchestra, Jukka-Pekka Saraste

Saturday 2 February 2013

The daffodils have just started to appear on a bright and sunny day on the south coast, so we might be forgiven for approaching this Sibelius programme with some slight trepidation, given its combination of incidental music to Death and the Fourth Symphony, the most melancholic, not to say depressive, of the composer’s output.

That the experience was both enlightening and uplifting was a tribute to all involved. The concert opened with three movements from Sibelius’ incidental music to Kuolema (Death) written in 1903 and orchestrated in this version in 1910. Scene with Cranes is strangely Wagnerian in its string writing, trembling into life before the plaintive calls of the cranes. The Canzonetta found unexpected warmth, as if it was daring to be hopeful. Valse triste is familiar but becomes more involving in context. The dying heroine of the play is recalling dances from her youth, and the score contrasts the warmth and vitality of the memory with the present closeness of death and loneliness. They make a well balanced set; a pity we did not hear all of the incidental music.

After the interval the Fourth Symphony groaned into life from the depth of the strings, with a fine solo cello line from Josephine Knight, both at the start and throughout the symphony. The first movement proceeds by hints and whispers, frequently unresolved or drifting away. The largo has a resigned melancholy before the ferocity of the final Allegro which almost tears itself apart before giving up the struggle. That we were able to experience this desolation without actually losing hope ourselves was primarily down to Jukka-Pekka Saraste’s sensitive handling of the score which keeps its nervous energy ever alive rather than falling into self-indulgent misery.

Between these two we experienced one of the finest performances of Sibelius’ Violin Concerto that I can recall. The Norwegian violinist Henning Kraggerud may not yet be a familiar name in this country but I am sure it soon will be. His approach to the concert displayed not only a formidable technical ability but a range of tone which was able to change on an instant, highlighting the rapid, often fleeting, emotional states of the score. The final movement had a cheeky folk feeling to it and the broad grin on his face throughout reflected the joyous outpouring. That it was received with wild enthusiasm from a full house in The Dome almost goes without saying, and we were privileged with a brief and gentle encore for violin and orchestra. BH

Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra, Barry Wordsworth

The Dome, Brighton, 27 January 2013

The heart of this programme was a fine performance of Bach’s C minor concerto for Violin and Oboe. Soloists Daniel Bhattacharya and Alun Darbyshire were not only highly professional but clearly worked together with the sense of delight and rapport which leads to enjoyment both on the platform and in the audience. The opening movement had a clear cutting edge while the sublime adagio never drifted into sentimentality.

Throughout the afternoon the woodwind were noteworthy. Bassoon soloist Gavin McNaughton has a surprisingly exposed roll in Haydn’s Symphony No 98 with a mellifluous solo in the Menuetto .(Will he be opening The Rite of Spring for us?) The symphony ends with one of Haydn’s little in-jokes. The first violin has a number of solos, almost jazz breaks, and then suddenly there is a harpsichord break just before the end, played originally by the composer. While Alistair Young obviously enjoyed his brief moment of fame, I wondered why Barry Wordsworth did not play the part himself.

The concert concluded with Mozart’s Symphony No39. Again the woodwind impressed in the trio and were engaged throughout, though the symphony as a whole, and the Haydn in the first half, did not have the panache and dynamic impact we have come to expect of this orchestra. BH

London Philharmonic Orchestra & Choir, Clare College Choir, Sir Mark Elder

Royal Festival Hall, 26 January 2013

The Rest is Noise has started its run on the South Bank, and The Dream of Gerontius may seem an unlikely inclusion, given the surrounding attractions of Schoenberg, Berg, Webern and Stravinsky. However, there is a good reason for including it, as it marks a complete break with earlier English oratorio and points the way to more fluid and psychologically charged creations.

Performing the work in a concert hall is always problematic. The hushed opening really needs a large cathedral, or the Bayreuth pit, to ensure the sense of sound emanating from nothing, but it does have the advantage of allowing us to hear the orchestration with great clarity.

The combined forces under Mark Elder approached the work as a passionate narrative, and one marked by far more confidence than is often the case. There was an innocence to Paul Groves’ Gerontius which moved us away from a man wracked with guilt and worry to one open to the love of God and delighting in the joy of heaven. In this he was superbly supported by the confidence of Sarah Connelly’s Angel who leads him with great gentleness towards his final resting place.

James Rutherford was a late substitute for Brindley Sherratt but is no stranger to the part, bringing authority and emotional truth.

Mark Elder’s handling of the orchestra builds large, almost Wagnerian, paragraphs with endless waves of sound. The constant slight rubato was very effective in building tension and bridging towards a climax. The organ in the Royal Festival Hall may not yet be fully installed but the parts that are there were put to good use.

While the text from the soloists was clear and crisp, the chorus lost definition as it grew louder. This was a pity as their quieter singing carried without problem. They were able not only to overwhelm us with the opening of Praise to the Holiest but to end it with effectively even more volume than they started.

The silent film which was played at the start, with some disconcerting changes in light levels, was interesting but might pall somewhat if we have to see if before every concert in the series. BH

Birmingham Symphony Hall, 17 January 2013

Outside, the temperature was well below zero and the snow was swirling in a bitter wind; inside, we were engulfed by the prospect of Spring in most recent of Birmingham’s celebratory concerts for the Britten anniversary.

The sea is never far from Britten’s compositions but here we were in the company of his masters. Frank Bridge is still unfairly overlooked as his impassioned tone poems The Sea easily demonstrated. What is surprisingly telling about these four scenes is the very English nature of the writing. He wrote them in Eastbourne, as Debussy had commenced La Mer in the same spot a few years earlier. Yet the textures and the dynamic impact is of a far more bracing and northern aspect than Debussy’s more impressionistic writing. Moonlight seems to show the crisp coolness of a south-England night, rather than the heady romanticism of Debussy’s Claire de lune. Storm is equally effective with the harp providing a spray of light above the weight of the brass. This work really should be heard as frequently as its French cousin.

Elgar’s Sea Pictures are certainly more familiar but it is rare to hear the words as clearly as we did from Kelley O’Connor. Her rather indulgent approach to the songs, and some tightness at the top of the voice meant that this was not as smooth as it could have been (and may be more polished tonight when there is a repeat performance) but Edward Gardner brought an emotional splash to the orchestra which carried the narrative with panache. The lingering sense of death which underpins these songs was well captured, contrasting finely with the naivety of much of the text.

The second half brought an impressively large chorus onto the platform for Britten’s Spring Symphony, with the CBSO Youth and Children’s choruses in spirited form, to say nothing of their whistling in part one. Kelly O’Connor was joined by Susan Gritton and Allan Clayton, to guide us through the vicissitudes of awakening spring, exploding in the final section into the glorious riot of Soomer is icoomen in. Earlier Edward Gardner had found a gentle urgency within The Morning Star and the necessary drive and intensity for Fair and Fair.

It was something of a shock to come out into the evening blizzard but the thought of Spring not too far away will remain with us for some time. BH

The Dome Brighton, 13 January 2013

What looked to be a rather unusual coupling on paper turned out to be an inspired choice of programme to start the new-year. Given the beauty of the prelude to Verdi’s Aida – it is certainly as fine as either of the Traviata preludes which are so regularly performed – it is surprising it is not used in concert more frequently. The translucent textures of the divided strings impressed as did the delicate crescendo that Barry Wordsworth created. The brass came into their own with the Triumphal march, though the work always seems unbalanced without the weight of the chorus.

Poulenc’s Concerto for Two Pianos, sparkles throughout, the smaller orchestra responding with real excitement to the demands of the score. It may be tongue-in-cheek but it is a consummate piece of writing which makes great technical demands on its soloists, as well as insisting that the audience are aware of its nuances. In a packed twenty minutes there is no room to doze off, and the fireworks – even in the gentler slow movement – keep everyone on their toes. Robert Clark and Kate Shipway have worked regularly with Barry Wordsworth over the years and this was very obvious in the interplay of the two pianos and orchestra. The lightening changes of both dynamic and emotional impact were finely conceived and the hints, not just of the gamelan, but of early minimalism, firmly in place. While realising that getting two highly professional pianists onto the same platform is never an easy undertaking, it is a pity this work is not more frequently performed, as its live experience far outweighs any recording.

Saint-Saens’ Organ Symphony may be a familiar war horse, but regular exposure on the radio tends to dampen the expected dynamic experience in the concert hall. This is not only true of the impact of the organ itself – convincingly played here by Alastair Young – but also of the delicacy of the slow movement. Having two concert pianists for the tiny but spine-tingling piano part was a real bonus. Barry Wordsworth chose to indulge himself in the sensuousness of Saint-Saens’ writing, bringing us delicious lyricism and allowing us to wallow in familiar melodies. At the same time I found myself surprised at how close to Elgar some of the melodic lines appear when played live. The final movement was given its head and received the ovation it rightly deserved. If I had some reservations about the sound of the organ, with some slightly uncomfortable vibration at times, it did not affect the overall impact.

It was a pleasure to see The Dome nearly full on this occasion, and I hope that the coupling of very familiar works to more challenging but exciting ones will continue. BH

Royal Festival Hall, 9 January 2013

Superlatives are always a problem for the music critic, but there are rare performances which are so far above the routine that they demand recognition. Adam Fischer conducted from memory and had a smile on his face throughout, gently encouraging and lifting his performers to ever greater excellence. The Creation is the most humane of religious compositions, with no hint of the guilt and violence which can so easily taint earlier religious works. Yet Haydn’s spirituality is sincere throughout, even if coloured by the age of reason in its understanding of the deity and mankind’s relationship to creation.

Adam Fisher drives the narrative forward with surprising alacrity though he does not miss a trick along the way. Worms wriggle, birds trill, the leviathan writhes, and all without over emphasis or lack of respect. If anything the opening section had the monumentality of Beethoven, with the Chaos setting particularly impressive. The hints of Mozart surface at the more felicitous moments, with the new created world having the innocence of Papageno’s bells.

Solo instrumentalists were enabled to shine, with the lucky woodwind given individual solos for the various birds.

The young soloists brought a freshness and vitality to their parts which can often be lacking in more sombre approaches. Sophie Bevan’s easy coloratura enchanted, and her deft portrayal of Eve made the character utterly convincing even if the sentiments are not totally at one with post-feminism. Andrew Kennedy beamed throughout, and brought a charm and individuality to the angel voices which can often be missed. Andrew Foster Williams enjoyed the lower reaches and was a convincing Adam, hand in hand with his partner.

The fresh young voices of the Schola Cantorum of Oxford were ideal for this work and the precision as well as the vigour of their singing was captivating.

To the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment this may be familiar territory but they played with conviction and panache throughout. If all Haydn were given this quality he would surely be performed as often as either Handel or Mozart. BH

Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra

The Dome, 31 December 2012

A change to bring in the New Year at the Dome.  For some years we have been delighted by John Bradbury who led these new-year celebrations as both soloist and conductor, with an emphasis on the gypsy music that was so important to Austro-Hungarian cultural life. This year, in a rather different vein, Stephen Bell conducted and we had arias from Pamela Hay, familiar to many from Friday Night is Music Night.

The programme was introduced from the podium by the conductor, who was able to smooth the links between items with a number of apt anecdotes and jokes.

The matinee got off to a cheeky start with the Fatherland March, confusing most of us, as we thought this was the Radetsky March – which of course is always the last item for any new-year programme!

There were, as expected, a number of familiar works, and if Roses from the South proved rather unsubtle in the first half, there was far more sensitive playing for the Tritsch-Tratsch Polka and the Emperor Waltz with its slightly melancholic close. The Overture to Die Fledermaus got the second half off to a fine start, followed by Vienna Bon-bons, the Hunting Polka and – inevitably – The Blue Danube.

Less familiar, but always welcome, was Lanner’s New Year Gallop and operetta arias which have slipped below the radar of most concert-goers.

Pamela Hay had opened her items with Schenkt man sich Rosen im Tirol from Zeller’s unfairly neglected Der Vogelhandler, the only item sung in German. The Vilja lied from The Merry Widow seemed to stretch her somewhat though she was more comfortable in the second half with Adele’s Laughing Song from Die Fledermaus, I give my heart  from The Dubarry  and one of Lehar’s Gypsy songs. Her diction is excellent and the audience enjoyed her characterisations.

Pamela Hay returned to the stage to lead the essential audience participation for the Radetsky March which brought the afternoon to a close –  not that we would not have happily sat through more had it been on offer.

The next concert is on Sunday 13 January with Saint-Saens’ Organ Symphony. BH

St John’s, Smith Square, 8 December 2012

This was announced as a chamber Messiah, but the dynamic impact was anything but. Drawing on nine young singers, all of whom are soloists in their own right, who were able to form the most cohesive and mellifluous of choral sounds, would have been impressive enough by itself. When one then realised that the performance was being sung from memory, with the narrative drive of a closely argued operatic text, the impact was overwhelming. Tempi never felt rushed but the seamless continuity from one piece to the next led to long stretches of development which can too easily be missed in performances which allow for shuffling and coughing between items, to say nothing of rearranging singers and instrumentalists.

Following eighteenth-century practise, the group have no conductor, and in this case not even their regular keyboard player, as David Wright was a last minute substitute at organ and harpsichord. This requires a far closer rapport than is normal even in chamber ensembles, and it was fascinating to watch the amount of eye contact between all on stage to ensure that they were not only together but making the subtle changes in dynamic and tempi which bring musical lines to life.

Singing some choruses a capella was not only justified but made musical sense. The hushed sensitivity of And with his Stripes flowing through All we like Sheep to close down to a reverential the Lord hath laid upon him was very moving.

Natural trumpets are always a problem even for accomplished soloists so it made sense to split the solo part across two performers. I recall many years ago being at the first performance of Basil Lam’s edition under Charles Mackerras where it took about six breaks before we could get to the end of The Trumpet shall sound so difficult was it for the trumpeter at the time.

It seems almost invidious to name individual singers under these circumstances but tenor Thomas Herford and counter-tenor Michal Czerniawski were particularly impressive and Zoe Brown was radiant in I know that my Redeemer liveth.

There was a well focussed essay in the programme drawing attention to the theology which lies behind Jennens’ word book, which was printed in full, together with the scene titles which make sense of the structure. Messiah is heard so frequently it can become just another winter event. When it is presented like this, a performance which strips away the religiosity to reveal the spiritual heart of the work, we can only be thankful that there are musicians around with the integrity to challenge us. Long may they do so. BH