by Ben Hogwood Image of Dvořák courtesy of Wikipedia
On this day in 1885, the first performance of Dvořák’s Seventh Symphony took place, at St. James’s Hall in London, with Dvořák himself conducting.
It is one of his finest symphonies, highly regarded by critics and audiences alike, and shows a clear affinity with the work of Brahms. Characteristically for Dvořák, it is bursting with melody – as this classic recording with the London Symphony Orchestra and István Kertész shows:
Bristol-based composer Dan Moore made a three-day field trip to Kielder Water in 2022, having completed some extensive work into the history of the site.
This EP reflects on what he found, both from first-hand experience and from sonic material gathered from the site, which is Britain’s biggest man-made reservoir, a controversial redevelopment plan dating back to the 1960s. Dan’s music blends electronics with field recordings, interview samples and more analogue writing for strings.
Throughout the project he was mentored by film composer Dan Jones.
What’s the music like?
Consistently engaging, and pictorial.
As you might expect, the textures are wide open, but Moore approaches his audio descriptions in a number of different ways. The Architect is busy, its riffs playing backwards and forwards over a spacious backdrop, but the speed drops completely as the music pans out for VT-15, a piece of luxurious ambient textures but uncertain harmonies, using field recordings made from the tunnel underneath the valve tower. It has both depth and a glistening surface, richly coloured.
A Shift In The Land is initially uncertain of its direction, wavering uncertainly, until an emphatic string motif weighs in powerfully, dropping anchor over a distorted backing. The lapping of water is the restful backing to Mike, though the string figures above – often beautiful – are wary, too, and when dropping away in pitch leave the listener feeling uncertain.
Does it all work?
It does – and the only regret is the music isn’t longer, for there are some vivid stories here.
Is it recommended?
Yes. Kielder Water is an ambient experience but is tinged with unease, sitting on the edge of reality. Its music has the same appeal as the breathtaking scenes you encounter on a visit, and have an equally mysterious allure, too.
Fleur Barron (mezzo-soprano), City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra / Carlo Rizzi
Puccini arr. Rizzi Tosca – Symphonic Suite (1900, arr. 2020) Respighi Il Tramonto (1917-18) Puccini arr. Rizzi Madama Butterfly – Symphonic Suite (1904, arr. 2020) Respighi Pini di Roma (1923-4)
Symphony Hall, Birmingham Thursday 16 April 2026
Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse Photo of Fleur Barron by Victoria Cadisch
Carlo Rizzi has long been a familiar presence in Birmingham – though as music director (for 13 years) at Welsh National Opera rather than conducting the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, with whom his rapport was nevertheless undoubted as tonight’s concert confirmed.
The theatrical essence of Puccini’s operas inevitably detracts from their orchestral mastery, but there is no reason why their music cannot be adapted for the concert hall – as Rizzi duly demonstrated with these two ‘symphonic suites’ created during the COVID lockdown. The incentive had come earlier when conducting the suite from Richard Strauss’ Der Rosenkavalier, and anyone familiar with that rather crassly assembled concoction will surely concur that Rizzi has performed a much greater service for two of the Italian composer’s most famous operas.
As regards Tosca, its unwavering concentration makes it difficult to extract purely orchestral passages of any length – thereby vindicating making Rizzi’s decision to adapt this music as it stands and not ‘instrumentalize’ the vocal lines. Centred on the ill-fated lovers Tosca and Cavaradossi, his suite pivots between high emotion and fraught pathos while still managing to encompass the extent of the drama throughout the two hours of its unfolding. Put another way, those unfamiliar with this opera would be left in little doubt as to its dramatic potency.
If the overtly discursive quality of Madam Butterfly makes it less amenable for being distilled in this way, its score offers an abundance of orchestral finesse and local colour of which Rizzi has made the most. Here the emphasis comes even more on the eponymous heroine, her main set-pieces diminished only incrementally when shorn of their vocal component. Nor does this suite overlook the searing cruelty of the denouement, achieved here through a shattering burst of orchestral violence which felt scarcely less visceral than in operas from Janáček and Berg.
In between these high-octane encapsulations, a modicum of restraint (though hardly serenity) was conveyed by The Sunset. When setting Shelley’s typically over-wrought poem from 1816, Respighi was evidently guided by the disjunctive if not necessarily jarring transition between its rapt initial stages and its anguished continuation towards an ending of fatalistic repose. Its richly enveloping string-writing was fastidiously rendered – an apposite context for Canadian mezzo Fleur Barron (above) to project vocal writing no less suffused with radiant emotional warmth.
Respighi in more familiar guise concluded this programme. His Pines of Rome was accorded an insightful reading – whether in the raucous animation of those ‘of the Villa Borghese’, the sombre opulence of those ‘near a Catacomb’, the enfolding ecstasy of those ‘at the Janiculum’ (pre-recorded nightingale ascending headily through the expanse of Symphony Hall) then the surging majesty of those ‘of the Appian Way’, with its overwhelmingly cinematic peroration. Music expressly intended to bring the house down, which was certainly true on this occasion.
It set the seal on an imaginatively programmed and superbly played concert, making one hope that Rizzi will soon be returning. Next week, however, brings music of a very different nature when Ryan Wigglesworth takes the podium in commemorative music by Purcell and Brahms.
To read more about the CBSO’s 2025/26 season, visit the CBSO website. Click on the names for more on conductor Carlo Rizzi and mezzo-soprano Fleur Barron
Hans Christian Aavik (violin), Estonian National Symphony Orchestra / Neeme Järvi, Olari Elts
Verbytsky / Chubynsky National Anthem of Ukraine Eller Homeland Tune (1918/1953) Sibelius Andante festivo (1922/1938) Tüür Violin Concerto no.2 ‘Angel’s Share’ (2018) Sumera Symphony no.2 (1984)
Estonia Concert Hall, Tallinn Wednesday 15 April 2026
Reviewed by Ben Hogwood Pictures (c) Ben Hogwood
There was a celebratory air to this concert in the Estonian National Symphony Orchestra’s Violin Concerto series, which began with powerful solidarity as the orchestra played the Ukrainian National Anthem to a standing audience.
They were conducted by the return of the much-loved Neeme Järvi, soon to be 89 – the unofficial godfather of an Estonian conducting dynasty now spreading well beyond his own sons Paavo and Kristjan. Järvi also conducted Homeland Tune by the pioneering Estonian composer Heino Eller, whose stints at Tartu and Tallinn musical establishments found him teaching the likes of Arvo Pärt and Tubin. The burnished string tone of the Estonian NSO strings was to be savoured in this affectionate rendering, as it was in a warm account of Andante Festivo, the popular Sibelius encore.
The impish Järvi, playing to the gallery, was then joined on stage by Martin Cullingford (above) editor of Gramophone magazine. While there were mischievous asides from the conductor there were serious points too – the merits of composer Joachim Raff, the latest in a long list of countless musical discoveries, and the concluding exhortation that without music, life is nothing. It was difficult to disagree, Järvi showing just why he is held in such great esteem.
So, too, is composer Erkki-Sven Tüür, in his fifties but with a thirty-year career in which he has established himself on the world stage as a composer whose evolution is compelling to witness. Tüür writes with great fluency in established classical forms, and his Violin Concerto no.2 shows his ability to apply an emotive program to those structures. ‘Angel’s Share’ refers to the pocket of air appearing in a barrel of whisky during the ageing process, a phenomenon applied to the maturing of an adult.
The silvery edge to the tone of violinist Hans Christian Aavik was the ideal spur for music that engaged in luminous dialogue, while laced with folksy references. The frequency spectrum of this piece is wide, from the metallic percussion of the first gesture to the important part played by the double basses, providing notable depth, their counter melodies central as the concerto pushed forward. Aavik’s virtuosity was key, convincingly delivering with spacious phrasing. This concerto needs repeated listening but is on its way to becoming a repertoire regular.
The same fate should befall the Second Symphony of Lepo Sumera, a 20-minute single movement span that proved something of a revelation. Sumera is not often heard beyond his own country, but this work completely validated his compositional approach, blending an American-style minimalism – admired by John Adams, no less – with fresh melodies and open textures that could only be Baltic in origin.
The work began with the two harps (Sara Siria D’Amico and Saale Kivimaker) who played exquisitely, their distinctive motifs the seeds from which the music grew, forming like a sped-up motion picture of the growth of a tree, its branches extending outwards and upwards in twisting figures, germinating new ideas at every turn while all the while building a majestic canopy.
Olari Elts oversaw this process with admirable surety, aided by unexpected interventions from the trombones, and double basses, with wild whoops and guttural phrases introducing a more primal edge. The climactic section confirmed Sumera’s continental approach, for the tree could now be in the American plains given the wide-open textures around, and also his tight grasp of structure, with barely a note out of place. Gradually the music returned to earth, and to the harps of the beginning, its story told in a singularly powerful voice.
Sumera’s output numbers seven symphonies, each earmarked for release in recordings by this conductor and orchestra on the Finnish label Ondine. Judging by this rediscovered masterpiece, we are in for a treat – and for Sumera, whose life was cut tragically short at the age of 50, recognition of his talents looks set to go well beyond this appreciative Tallinn concert hall.
by Ben Hogwood Image of Respighi courtesy of Wikipedia
Today marks the anniversary of the death of composer Ottorino Respighi, 90 years ago in 1936, at the age of just 56.
Respighi’s most famous works are the orchestral pieces making up the ‘Roman trilogy’ – in order of composition the Fountains of Rome, Pines of Rome and Roman Festivals. A previous post on the composer highlighted recordings of those three; however I wanted this time to pay tribute to Respighi’s flair as an orchestrator. Here are his arrangements of five of Rachmaninoff‘s Etude-Tableaux for piano, showing off the orchestra with colour and flair:
Arcana.fm 