Thursday 28 April 2016

Is Vaughan Williams’ Third Symphony really so rarely performed? Sir Mark Elder obviously thinks so and spoke strongly about its merits prior to the performance though, with fine playing throughout, it hardly seemed to need such a large plug. Moreover, performing it immediately after Butterworth’s A Shropshire Lad and before Debussy’s Las mer gave it a solid context which hardly needed added explanation. I am not against conductors speaking to the audience but felt that, on this occasion, it did little to add to our understanding and lengthened an evening which, unfortunately, over-ran badly.

Butterworth’s A Shropshire Lad can come across as a rural idyll but Elder finds levels of melancholy and loneliness in the work which are highly convincing. The touches of portamento in the strings hint at an understanding which is more than simply archaic. In the light of this interpretation we were well prepared for the ambivalence of the Vaughan Williams. Again this is very far from a pastoral idyll but none the less is clearly wedded to an understanding of the relationship of humanity to nature. The first movement, for all its introspection, seems to regularly flood with birdsong, calling us to a world of innocence which might exist if only man did not. This mood is carried over into the second movement where the solo trumpet provides a distant, cold, reminder of man’s presence and final judgement. It is a world away from the trumpet solos in Mahler and chillingly so. The third movement’s heartiness contrasts with the continuing bird song, but seems shallow in comparison and so we are led to the keening of the solo soprano in the final movement. Louise Alder, off-stage throughout, filled the hall easily with a gentle warmth and Mark Elder drew our attention to the different impact of the two passages she sings. At the opening her line is underpinned by a soft but uncomfortable tympani; at the end it is supported by high strings. Though the pain continues, we know we have moved from despair to resolution and compassion. It is a wonderful work, and yes we do not hear it often enough.

After the interval we had moved from English impressionism to French, opening with a forthright account of Ravels’ Piano Concerto for the left hand, with Cedric Tiberghien as soloist. The strident writing and vivid colours contrast the fluid lyricism of the cadenzas which were given limpid clarity by the soloist. His sensitivity towards the period was exemplified in the Debussyan encore which followed.

Ending the evening with Debussy’s La mer almost came as a shock after the earlier works. The crisp open clarity, the sparkle and enthusiasm which the orchestra conjured up, was like a splendid cold shower after a very sweaty race. Detail was exemplary and dynamic changes always firmly focused. Those who had to slip away before the Debussy started, given that we were now running thirty minutes behind the expected time, missed a wonderful conclusion, and there was something of a scramble to get out following the final note. A pity, music making of this quality deserves better – and that is down to the planning.