Hanover Band, Richard Cooke

Canterbury Cathedral, 12 March 2016

It is always a treat to hear Messiah and, personally I never tire of it – from the crisp rhythms of the Overture to that wonderful top A from the sopranos, nine bars before the end, which somehow encapsulates the wonder of the whole piece. And this performance pushed most of the buttons.

It’s slightly incongruous to hear it sung by big forces accompanied by the original instruments of the Hanover Band. It’s arguably a contradiction. Nonetheless it’s a pleasure to hear those slender 18^th century trombones, positioned next to the altos for Glory to God. The enjoyable clean, dry sound of the old timpani is quite different from the rumbling resonance of their modern descendants. And of course the trumpet, slightly understated in this performance and quieter than a 21^st century one, dramatically underpins The Trumpet Shall Sound.

Visually, Canterbury is probably the most iconically atmospheric building in the country. But it isn’t a concert hall. Even with the huge and very competent Canterbury Choral Society on a steeply tiered seating west of the rood screen there is still an acoustic problem. Tenor, Jamie MacDougall began Comfort Ye carefully under tempo but it was still fuzzy even from row F where I was sitting.

The lofty acoustic seems to be kinder to higher registers than lower ones. Alexander Chance, counter-tenor, gave a very sensitive, performance with total clarity and perfect diction especially in the 6/8 lilt of O thou that tellest glad tidings to Sion and in his searingly moving I Know That My Redeemer Liveth. Chance, the son of counter-tenor Michael Chance, is a recent graduate from New College College Oxford where he was a choral scholar so he’s still very young. I’m sure we shall hear more of him. There was also elegant work from soprano Jessica Leary who sings with a smile in her voice.

Rather disappointing, however, was bass Barnaby Rea. Apart from acoustically caused vocal muddiness, his intonation was sometimes doubtful. He seemed, moreover, to be reading every note from his copy as if rehearsing an unfamiliar work, so there was very little audience eye contact.

The choir, however, like the orchestra, does an excellent job. A member of Canterbury Choral Society told me recently that they have to sing crowd-pleasing Messiah more often than some members would like and that other good, but less popular works get fewer outings. Well, I understand her frustration but it works in the choir’s favour too. Because they clearly know Messiah so well they sing it with terrific confidence, panache with plenty of very professional focus on the conductor. There’s none of that heads-buried-in-copies which bedevils so many amateur choirs. And that enables Richard Cooke to coax an exceptionally coherent sound from them.

I’m now looking forward to CCS’s Verdi Requiem with Royal Philharmonic Orchestra in June.

London Coliseum, 4 March 2016

ENO’s production of Akhnaten some thirty years ago still vibrates in the memory and made a huge impact at the time. It is possible that Phelim McDermott’s approach will do the same. Without a doubt it will be remembered for the brilliance of the jugglers but this would be to miss the vision he brings to the work. The court of the dead pharaoh Amenhotep is one of angular steel and imperialistic weight. Even the juggling is confined within the structures and the chorus follow the professionals with some skill if little enthusiasm. It is a world of oppression and weight. The new pharaoh throws all of this over. The steel splits apart to be replaced by a vast white sphere; all is light and space, the intensely heavy costumes are replaced by diaphanous muslins, trailing gently across the stage, transparent, to reveal the androgynous sexuality beneath. The jugglers of Improbable steal the ritual items from the priests to establish a world of joy which soon gives way to enormous gently floating balls, themselves mirroring the vast globe of the sun. But it cannot last and as Akhnaten dies, the imperialistic weight returns and the ghosts are left to mourn what might have been.

Sung in Egyptian and Hebrew, with some narrated passages in English, but without surtitles, we are forced – as many of us recall from our early days of opera-going – to concentrate fully on the music and the stage. We are involved and engrossed, even though the action is unnaturally slow and often static. We are caught up in the unfolding inevitability of the narrative, for which the juggling acts as a constant gently moving stream, its rhythms catching those of the orchestra.

Within this world Phelim McDermott is not afraid to use iconic references from Christianity. Akhnaten prostrates himself like a novitiate monk before his coronation, and as he dies, he does so in the arms of the Scribe like a Pieta.

If all of this was impressive, the musical quality on the first night came close to matching it. Solo parts – particularly Anthony Roth Costanzo as Akhnaten – were beautifully floated in a work which requires bel canto voices. His radiant Hymn to the Sun was captivating. The chorus excelled as they always do.

Under Karen Kamensek the orchestra took a little time to settle. Though the scoring may appear to be straightforward in its writing, the need for utterly crisp rhythms and balance is essential. By the second act things were tighter and the third act was very moving in its intensity and ambience. ENO may have its problems at the moment – but this should be yet another example of risk taking which really pays off.