Michael Keegan-Dolan certainly brings a fresh approach to Handel’s Julius Caesar in his new production. If it does not quite come off, the difficulties could be easily remedied and the strong points as easily built upon.

Musically, under the precise direction of Christian Curnyn in the pit, the evening is a delight. Lawrence Zazzo is a somewhat sleazy Caesar, on the make and violent from the word go. That he sings so beautifully often seems at odds with his character. As he opposite number, Cleopatra, Anna Christy not only provides starry coloratura but keeps the characterisation well within bounds; no indication here of a sex-kitten. If anything she finds depths in the role others have not, with her aria at the end of Act Two particularly moving.

The emotional heart of the evening lies with Patricia Bardon’s Cornelia, who provided the most convincing rounded human being and touches our hearts with her loss. Her grief is fully characterised through the music, her changes of passion all of a piece. Changing her son Sesto into a daughter did no real harm to either narrative or music, especially when sung in such a forthright manner by Daniela Mack.

Tim Mead’s Ptolemy was that rare encounter, a dastardly counter-tenor, who clearly enjoyed being evil, though with such a heavenly voice he constantly seemed to get away with it.

Michael Keegan-Dolan uses dancers to underpin the arias. There are times when this is very successful, particularly in Sesto’s Act Two arias. The opening recalled Peter Sellar’s Glyndebourne Theodora with the choral movements, but these were not carried through as rigidly. This I found at times to be confusing. Why are some arias danced and others not?

There are other moments which are simply confusing. Are they Pompey’s ashes on the table or not? Given that – as much else besides – they were brought in in a bucket it was difficult to tell, and while Cornelia grieves over them, the dancers ignore them and kick them off the table. Quite what the significance of the dead crocodile and giraffe were I have no idea, nor of the careful placement of ostrich eggs.

But essentially these are small irritations in an evening that had a virility and style which eventually won me over. BH

I have followed the Darbar Festival for some time thanks to the broadcasts on Sky Arts 2 but this was the first time I had been able to attend any live performances. While it is difficult for those of us raised within the western classical tradition to follow the nuances, the sense of joy, excitement and exceptional professionalism is overwhelming. The Festival had run from Thursday 27 September and I caught up with it on Sunday, with a sarod and tabla recital from Pratyush Banerjee and Sanju Sahai. They opened with Raga Patdeep. Against a gentle drone the first notes from the sarod seemed to creep out of a warm haze, the slow vibrato at the end of a note leaving it to disappear back into the silence of the drone. Gentle intakes of breath from the audience around me as the raga continued made me realise that I was obviously missing the subtleties, even though I was mesmerised by the beauty of the line being spun before me and the delicacy of the musical invention. Sometimes a brief melodic invention would flower, only to be as gently subsumed into the continuing melos.

The structure of the raga becomes easier to follow once the tabla enters with its more extrovert approach to rhythm. The interplay between strings and drum provides ever more emotional excitement , mixing stunning technical finesse with the joy of creativity.

As the raga came to an end I was amazed to note it had lasted over an hour and a quarter. It felt like little more than a few minutes.

Pratyush Banerjee announced that the second piece in their performance, Raga Sindhura, was less popular than the opening work. It felt darker toned, with a plaintive quality, retaining its introspection even with the entry of the tabla.

One the radical differences from any western concert was the realisation that the performers are able to continue playing even while retuning their instruments, as happened quite frequently. There is no fuss here; they simply let the drone and possibly their fellow players continue while they adjust their own tuning, even if that means hitting the tabla pegs quite noisily!

In the evening we heard Thevarajah Pirashanna on mridangam, Bangalore Prakash on ghatam, Aravindhan Baheerathan on flute, and Kandiah Sithamparanathan on morsing. They opened with a piece which is used to draw the statue of a deity back into the temple. It was light, fresh and dancelike throughout, with an exquisite flute solo at the opening. This was followed by a composed piece in sixteen beats for flute solo, which, if anything, was even more ravishing that the first. Krishna played the flute, and hearing this stunning performance one can understand why the instrument was associated with the deity. It was like hearing a lark in paradise. As a total contrast the section that followed was given over to an elaborate set of variations for percussion, led by Thevarajah Pirashanna on the double headed drum, the mridangam, which impressed with the subtlety of rhythms produced.  Anyone who has heard Stomp will realise that any object in the right hands can produce music and Bangalore Prakash’s playing of the ghatam – a large unglazed pot – was a case in point. The ability to change dynamics and tone within such a limited object were remarkable. The word morsing may be unknown in the west but surprisingly the instrument is not for it was soon clear this is a Jaw’s Harp. Kandiah Sithamparanathan played the morsing as a virtuoso instrument, changing the pitch and tone as well as providing intricate rhythmic variations. All three ended the session passing invented lines to each other for elaboration, copying or embellishment. It was a joyous way to bring the piece to an end.

Their concert concluded with a Tamil hymn in seven beats which allowed all the players to be involved in an exhilarating dance. These young players are based in London and deserve to be snapped up with enthusiasm.

All of the concerts have been broadcast on BBC Radio 3 and will later be shown in Sky Arts 2. The Festival now has a new website www.darbar.org from which downloads are available. It is hoped that Festival DVDs will soon also be available. We do hope so! BH

Bohuslav Martinu is better known in reputation than performance in this country so it is not surprising that this was the first performance of Julietta to be staged in London. Richard Jones’ production was widely praised when it opened on the continent and it is here staged with all of the aplomb which we expect of his work. So far, so good. The difficulty comes with the work itself. The score allows the text to come through with clarity – for once there was hardly any need for the sur-titles – but rarely makes any profound impact. Where characters are indulging in fantasy there are long stretches of lyrical writing which are pleasant without being memorable but for too much of the rest of the work the musical line rarely lifts above the level of accompaniment to the voices.

The very clarity of text is also something of a disadvantage. Hearing the words we necessarily engage with them. When they make little sense, we are left confused, as are many of the individuals on stage. That the presentation is a theatrical expression of a dream is convincing, but has the effect of leaving us uninvolved in the action. Peter Hoare’s finely sung Michel has to carry most of the narrative weight but his confusion leaves us unmoved. Some fine moments in act two with the Julietta of Julia Sporsen do not go far enough to captivate us. Yet if we are meant to be at some sort of Brechtian distance it is unclear how we are being led to respond.

A fine cast, often doubling parts, bring moments of humour and the surreal. I particularly liked the horn player in evening dress who wanders through the action like something from Magritte. Edward Gardner and the orchestra do their best to convince us that all is well but, for all the efforts on stage and in the pit, I can’t help feeling rather short-changed. BH

Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra

The Dome Brighton, 22 September 2012

With the proms only just over we are already launched into the winter orchestral season on the South Coast. The Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra under Rory Macdonald brought a popular programme of familiar works, but started with one which was less known to most of the audience – Dvorak’s The Noon Witch. The composer’s late tone poems are so easy on the ear it is surprising they are not better known and one has no need of the underlying story to enhance one’s enjoyment. Not that we were encouraged to do so on this occasion, as the conductor gave as a finely honed, if somewhat tongue-in-cheek rendition of the fairy-story before the orchestra started playing.

The dance rhythms and strong Czech feel to the score are immediately appealing and there is little sense of the final tragedy even when it arrives. The range of tonal colour Dvorak requires was well found both by soloists within the orchestra and the deft handling from the podium.

If the Dvorak had seemed swiftly moving this was to be true of the whole evening. In the second half we had a highly extrovert reading of Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony. The first two movements seemed to be looking back to stricter classical lines with the crisp clarity of phrasing and dance-like underpinning. There was little sense of the listener being able to idle away his time by the brook – which seemed to be in full flood in this reading and alive to the possibilities of creation.

If the final three movements were more conventional in approach, they continued the sense of extrovert enthusiasm and thanksgiving which had been engendered from the start. This may have been a young man’s reading – it will be interesting to note Rory Macdonald’s timing for this symphony twenty-five year hence! –  but it was none the less very welcome.

Between the two works we heard Bruch’s first violin concerto. Though enthusiastically received by the audience I had ongoing problems with the soloist Barnabas Kelemen. That he has a sound technique is not in doubt but the intensity of his vibrato and the constant sense of strident attack became unpleasant. Even the introspection of the slow movement was not allowed to flower, as the tension from the soloist was every present. The other problem I had was the constant tapping of his feet, sometimes to the point of stamping out the rhythm as if the concert was for violin and tap dancer. I was sitting towards the back of the stalls and could hear it clearly; it must have been overpowering for those sitting at the front. A great pity, for the orchestral colour and phrasing throughout was impressive in what should have been a memorable performance.

Surprisingly, for such a popular progamme, there were many empty seats.  The next concert will be the opening of the Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra season on Sunday 21 October. BH

It was very bold of the BBC to bring Cameron Carpenter to the console of the Royal Albert Hall organ for not one but two concerts over the same weekend. It was obvious from the start that his approach to Bach would divide organ enthusiasts. If I was thrown by his approach to the F major Toccata and Fugue, his playing later in the programme convinced me that, whatever we heard, it was on the basis of clear understanding of the originals and a phenomenal technique.

At the heart of his first programme he played the A major Prelude & Fugue BWV536. In interview he said he did not find this a profound work, but more a highly enjoyable one. What he gave us was both as here was highly sensitive playing, wonderful musicality and a profound joy in the music itself. His approach to Nun freunt euch, lieben Christen BWV 734 was staggeringly fast, based as it was on Busoni’s piano transcription which requires endless arpeggios to keep the music moving. His right hand and feet did not stop for a second.

He followed this with an improvisation on BACH. Having sat through too many numbing performances of both the Liszt and Reger BACHs I was prepared for the worst but found myself caught up in an American musical overture, somewhere between Gershwin and Bernstein. Not a gloomy note in sight, and yet the BACH motive was there throughout. What a joy to hear improvisation which so easily appealed to a far wider range of listeners than that which we too often encounter.

He concluded the afternoon with a reading of the D minor Toccata and Fugue BWV565 which took into account both Henry Wood’s and Busoni’s arrangements. If there were distinct hints of Fantasia here we have to recall that Stokowsky was himself wishing to expand the audience for serious music. Carpenter’s registration was about as wide as I can every recall on the RAH Willis, sometimes almost shockingly so. Almost obtusely, he started the Fugue at pp with great delicacy, but built it to a shattering climax.

His encore was an improvisation for the Jubilee and the Olympics, mixing God Save the Queen with London Pride, Rule Brittania and Chariots of Fire. It delighted the packed audience and sent us all out wanting more.

Where, over the years, too many organ recitals at the proms have been worthy but dull, this was as exciting as they come and musically satisfying. And that opening Toccata & Fugue in F major? I was dumbfounded. I had never heard Bach played this way before. It took some getting used to as he attacked the organ to make it work for him. If any reader does not like his approach, then, like Shakespeare, we have the benefit that Bach is always there and will have as many interpreters as there are musicians to perform him. A breath of fresh air may feel like a tornado to some, but we should welcome the challenge.

My colleague Stephen Page went to the second concert. BH

Having listened on the radio to Cameron Carpenter’s earlier prom  I was unsure how much I would enjoy this further performance. I have to admit to liking Bach organ performances of the “no frills” variety but I am also very fond of good theatre / concert organ arrangements of almost any variety. I need not have worried. From the opening notes of the Fantasia & Fugue in G minor (BWV 542) – begun almost as soon as CC was in position at the console – I was entranced.

Cameron’s performances were masterful examples of how to present music on the organ. He obviously knows the original material in depth and has a phenomenal technique enabling him to exploit the full resources of the Royal Albert Hall organ in a way I have not heard before.

Some may criticise such a performer as being showy but for me he proved to be highly successful in presenting music using the organ, as he said in his brief conversation with Christopher Cook, as a vehicle, not an end in itself.

The performance of his own Etude-Fantasy for Pedals on the Prelude from Bach’s Cello Suite No 1 in G major, BWV 1007 left no-one in the audience in any doubt about his virtuosic pedal technique. It went much further than that, however, highlighting his ability as an arranger and composer to draw on a number of influences including those from the worlds of popular and jazz music to create a piece that was true to the original, highly creative and satisfying as a whole.

He then demonstrated in a very engaging way the art of the improviser. His Improvisation on the Bouree from Bach’s Cello Suite No 3 in C major, BWV 1009 showed clearly how he can use a well-known Bach excerpt as the springboard for something that is fresh and exciting, travelling through a number of different styles and treatments incorporating the light and the virtuosic, the “straight” and the less so! A beautifully brief and cheeky re-statement of the original theme brought the improvisation to its conclusion.

The longest item in the programme was the performer’s own Syncretic Prelude & Fugue in D major, a pairing of arrangements of Bach’s Chaconne from the Solo Violin Partita No 2 in D minor, BWV 1004 and the last movement of Mahler’s Fifth Symphony. As in the previous day’s recital Cameron Carpenter drew on Busoni’s own re-working of the Bach. This was a tour de force. I just enjoyed it as a piece in its own right, luxuriating in the highly skilled, musical employment of the orchestra of the organ. Cameron’s ability to play with the colours in such a controlled way was phenomenal. I marvelled at the frequency of stop changes and was very interested to observe the way that he played up and down the combinations to achieve very smooth and effective crescendos and diminuendos. We heard wonderful solo stops playing against each other as well as magnificent choruses.

The large audience was very appreciative and Cameron responded with a well received encore.

This was music to appeal to lovers of organ music but also to those who just like good music, whatever the vehicle. I would love to see a CD of Cameron Carpenter at the RAH organ in the future.SP

A rather “heavy” looking programme was a delightful experience. The Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra, under the baton of Riccardo Chailly, were in good form.

The opening of Messiaen’s Et expecto resurrectionem mortuorum really did sound from “out of the depths”. The percussionists and wind players together created a wonderfully moving experience.

The restated chant-like wind passages, with rasping brass and the sometimes frantic, other times static percussion produced a mesmerising sound world.  Messiaen’s desire to portray something of the meeting between the human and divine elements of life and death was certainly achieved. A neighbouring member of the audience remarked to me afterwards that he felt almost the whole hall had been in a meditative state. Anyone who says that Messiaen’s music cannot touch the soul should have experienced this performance.

The longer part of the evening was given over to Mahler’s  Symphony No 6 in A minor.

This four movement symphony showed the full orchestra in all its glory.  The symphony demands large resources which were all deployed well at different times throughout the piece, the two harpists adding an ethereal element, not unlike the mysterious cowbells heard at points away from the main body of the orchestra. Mahler makes precise technical demands of many of the instrumentalists, widening his already large palette of individual colours. I am afraid I found the view of one of the percussionists climbing a step at the back of the staging to deliver the two enormous hammerblows demanded towards the end of the final movement rather comic.  I know that was not Mahler’s intention and I am sure it was not the intention of the musicians either but do wonder about the placing of the instrument in such a strategic position!

Throughout the symphony there was drama, pathos, doom and uplift. A superb performance was given by an outstanding group of musicians. My only criticism is that I would have liked the concert to have ended with the Messiaen rather than the Mahler. SP

 Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra, Riccardo Chailly

An all Mendelssohn programme brought nothing but delight and a sense of joy throughout. If the open textured lightness of the Overture Ruy Blas seemed almost too genial for Victor Hugo’s dour play it set the tone for an evening of constant enchantment.

The violin concerto was sweet toned throughout. If the soloist Nikolaj Znaider was mercifully short on histrionics he was blessed with a magnificent technique and mellifluous lyricism. His discrete Bach encore, so beautifully structured, only added to our understanding of his musicianship.

After the interval came two less familiar works, given in new versions by Christopher Hogwood, which restore the composer’s original intentions. The Overture The Fair Melusine was Mendelssohn’s answer to a somewhat second-rate response from Conradin Kreutzer. He writes in a style reminiscent of the Hebrides Overture with storms and heroic blasts carrying us to a safe conclusion.

The composer’s Reformation symphony is numbered as his fifth but is actually his second, though hidden away because of an unfavourable reception. It is certainly more demanding on the ear than the other symphonic works but none the less impressive. The earlier version includes an extended solo flute passage to link the Andante to the final setting of Ein feste Burg and this works so well it seems strange that Mendelssohn changed it.

As an encore we heard the wedding march from the incidental music to A Midsummer Night’s Dream – and all went home happy. BH

It was difficult to believe that Herbert Howells’ deeply felt and moving tribute to not only his own lost son but to all lost children has taken so long to get its first performance at the Proms. The richly romantic setting and the cumulative sense of joy which it brings are immensely appealing and were very warmly received by an unexpectedly full hall.

Just for second, the opening feels like the start of Gerontius but soon we are in more challenging country with the tension of Requiem aeternam only gradually giving way to the warmth of luceat eis.  It is light which holds the key to the work and light which gives birth to the ecstatic outpourings of the solo soprano, Miah Persson, who soared radiantly above the large chorus and orchestra.

The work frequently refers to the English pastoral setting as an image for peace and harmony, not just in the choice of text but in the eloquence and understatement of the musical line. Only the tenor Andrew Kennedy’s I heard a voice darkens the mood again as the work moves towards its close in another burst of shimmering light.

If there are clear influences of Vaughan Williams and Walton, Howells voice is very much his own and deserves to be more widely known.

The combined forces of the BBC Symphony Chorus and London Philharmonic Choir brought a weight and authority to the setting which is not available to the The Choirs, and the acoustic did little to soften the impact of the text.

The large orchestra was laid out somewhat unconventionally allowing the woodwind to speak with greater clarity. The organ, played by Malcolm Hicks, is a vital part of the setting. All was well until the final pedal note sounded as if a bird was stuck down the pipe.

The second half of the evening brought Elgar’s First Symphony. Where Martyn Brabbins had found romantic weight in the Howells, he seemed to discover an extra lightness and modernity in the Elgar. The shifting moods and tonal intensities were sharply contrasted. The second movement seemed almost tongue-in-cheek at times in its skittishness, allowing the third movement to blossom with near Mahlerian intensity. If the final movement opened cautiously it soon developed a sense of bite and edge which was held through to a thrilling conclusion. What could have seemed a rather conservative programme on paper was anything but. BH

Thursday 23 August

Over the summer Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra has been mounting a short series of early evening concerts within the opulent surroundings of Brighton Pavilion’s Music Room. Keziah Thomas’ Harp recital was apt in a large number of ways. The acoustic of the room is ideal for the orchestral harp and its somewhat florid style, both musically and visually, sits comfortably within the fire-breathing dragons and bamboos.

Most of her programme was focussed on the music which would have been heard in the Music Room during the late nineteenth century, though she opened with a delightful arrangement of dances for lute by Francisque. Faure’s more familiar Impromptu may have been written as an examination piece but its hushed glissandi and florid arpeggios support a gentle lyricism which is captivating.

John Thomas was harpist to Queen Victoria and his arrangement of Watching the wheat brought us into direct contact with the music the royal family would have heard in this room almost 150 years ago. It may be sentimental but it is certainly effective, as was the following set of variations on themes from Bellini’s Norma by Parish-Alvars. A very flashy piece, it allows the harpist to demonstrate a wide range of effects and impeccable technique.

As a contrast the final substantial item was Crossing Waves which was written for Keziah Thomas by Andy Thomas. Its three sections open with an unsettled and unsettling sense of tension and apprehension, followed by an extended cantabile for quite waters. The final section is part seas-shanty part folk dance and leads to a spirited conclusion.

Two brief pieces concluded the concert; a jazz tango and an arrangement by Hasselmann of Saint-Saens’ The Swan, which seemed to sit even more comfortably on the harp than on the cello.

Keziah Thomas had introduced all of the music with an easy rapport with her audience and remained after the concert to talk to those who wanted to know more about the instrument and its music. She will have created many new enthusiasts. BH

The final concert in the season brings Brahms’ String Sextet next Thursday 6 September at 7.00pm. Details from www.brightonphil.org.uk or 03000290902. The new Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra season opens on 21 October.

The Arcola Tent in Dalston makes a fitting venue for Puccini’s dark masterpiece. Where other circus tents are white, the black void of the Arcola Tent is immediately symbolic of the cloak itself. When this is working in conjunction with the very close proximity of the singers and the action, the effect is electric.

At the start Michele – an unusually young but powerful Simon Lobelson – sits with his dead pipe in one hand and a small toy in the other. As the work progresses it becomes increasingly clear that he is as affected by the death of the child quite as much as his wife. It makes the dénouement all the more tragic as the protagonists are swept away by emotions beyond their control. Giorgetta’s heartfelt cry at the end is as much for the loss of her child as it is for the loss of her lover.

While it would always be preferable to have Puccini’s orchestration, the atmospheric impact of the melodic lines is such that the darkness and dampness of the riverside impinges throughout. Philip Voldman was impressively sensitive at the piano and the balance with the singers was never problematic.

The small cast covered all of the parts, making a virtue of a necessity. When the pair of lovers appear, they are Giorgetta and Luigi as a dream image in Michele’s mind, though we have already seen the all too tangible outcome of their passion. Voices throughout were large and expansive. Joana Seara and Leonel Pinheiro easily met the emotional demands of the lovers, and his rough bulk was convincing as an itinerant stevedore. Simon Lobelson has the authority for Michele with an unexpected tenderness.

Ciaran O’Leary in the tiny part of Tinca, showed a fine tenor with great promise.

Aylin Bozok’s production allowed the action to move with sincerity and simplicity, the one very effective prop being the sudden appearance of a vast cloak which covered the stage as well as Michele and his wife.  Surtitles were in use and they swung in the wind almost as if the tent were a barge itself- an unexpected bonus. BH

Photo ©Desmond Chewyn

The festival continues until 8 September.  www.arcolatheatre.com