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About Arcana

My name is Ben Hogwood, editor of the Arcana music site (arcana.fm)

In concert – Guy Johnston, Britten Sinfonia / Thomas Gould @ Barbican Hall: The Protecting Veil

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Guy Johnston (cello, above), Britten Sinfonia / Thomas Gould (violin)

Beethoven arr. Weingartner Grosse Fuge Op.133 (1826)
Bartók Divertimento for String Orchestra Sz113 (1939)
Tavener The Protecting Veil (1988)

Barbican Hall, London
Thursday 15 February 2024

Reviewed by Ben Hogwood

The Protecting Veil is a special piece. Written by John Tavener in 1988, this musical meditation for cello and orchestra is based on and inspired by the Greeks resisting Saracen invasion in the early tenth century. They are heartened by a vision of Mary, the Mother of God, surrounded by a host of saints and spreading out her Veil as a protective shelter over the Christians.

In what is effectively a single-movement concerto, the cello represents the Mother of God, leading the string orchestra in eight prayerful chapters that respond to landmark events in which she is present. It may sound elegiac and deeply ambient for much of its duration, but to achieve this elevated state the performers require poise, concentration and inner strength.

It is hard to imagine a better performance than this one experienced at the Barbican. Guy Johnston led us in contemplation, the serenity of his upper register cello line immediately establishing a mood of calm, in complete contrast to the bustling city outside. The Britten Sinfonia responded in kind, conducted where necessary by violinist Thomas Gould but largely following the cello, a congregation responding to his prompting.

In spite of its inner serenity, The Protecting Veil is troubled by the shadows of violence throughout the world. This performance was a stark reminder of how little has changed in eleven centuries, for in the ominous falling motif that recurs for the cello it was impossible not to think of bombs and missiles raining down in the many warzones we see today. The Barbican fell largely silent as those images undoubtedly projected to many listeners, aided by a sympathetic light show that cast the distinctive markings of the back of the stage as a wooden chapel. When Johnston played alone in the central section, The Lament of the Mother of God at the Cross, he could easily have been playing solo Bach, the intimacy of his and Tavener’s thoughts laid bare.

There was, ultimately, consolation and redemption, and the lights burned yellow when the music soared back to the heights with which it began. Feverish anticipation gripped the strings as they responded excitably to the higher cello, and with a surety of tone that never dimmed, Johnston led us to the end. His was a remarkable performance of stamina and poise, those long notes held for what seemed like an eternity, their pure tones never dipping.

The musical contrast with the opening piece, Beethoven’s Grosse Fuge, was notable. Here is a piece that still sounds as new and every bit as challenging as the day it was written, the Everest of fugues. In this arrangement for string orchestra by Felix Weingartner, its angular subject is a touch smoother at the edges, though here the sharp lines were just as clear as in the string quartet original, the fugue subject escaping its restrictions. The Britten Sinfonia found its core in a well-drilled performance.

Bartók’s Divertimento for String Orchestra was lighter in mood to begin with, the ensemble celebrating the great outdoors as the folksy first tune went with a swing. Yet here too there were troubled minds, the slow movement wary of its place in history. Bartók wrote the Divertimento in 1939 in Switzerland, with Europe on the brink of the Second World War. The oppressive approach of the conflict could be felt in a profound slow movement, which began with feathery violas and reached a forbidding climax, emotion wrought from its pages. Those worries were largely banished by the finale, whose powerful unisons were led by Gould as the piece swaggered and bustled to the finish.

Guy Johnston and the Britten Sinfonia continue their tour with The Protecting Veil to Dublin and Manchester – for more details visit the Britten Sinfonia website

Published post no.2,090 – Saturday 17 February 2024

In concert – Natalya Romaniw, CBSO / Vassily Sinaisky: Beethoven and Tchaikovsky

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Natalya Romaniw (soprano, above), City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra / Vassily Sinaisky (below)

Tchaikovsky Romeo and Juliet Fantasy Overture (1869, rev. 1872 & 1880)
Tchaikovsky Eugene Onegin, Op.24 (1877-78) – Letter Scene
Beethoven Ah! Perfido, Op.65 (1796)
Beethoven Symphony no.2 in D major Op.36 (1801-2)

Symphony Hall, Birmingham
Wednesday 14 February 2024

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse

It might have been billed as a concert for Valentine’s Day and, though there was little about tonight’s programme to reinforce ‘true love reigns supreme’, it did make for a welcome new collaboration between the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra and Vassily Sinaisky.

Whether or not there is any more personal significance in Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet, it remains a potent encapsulation of Shakespeare’s tragedy. The brooding introduction seemed a little inhibited, but Sinaisky brought suitable incisiveness to the warring families and growing ardour to the love music. Nor was there any lack of drama as this ‘fantasy overture’ unfolded to its fateful denouement – after which, the benedictory chorale as Friar Laurence movingly apostrophises these doomed lovers brought an eloquent response from the CBSO woodwind.

Tchaikovsky’s reputation as an opera composer may have altered markedly over the decades, but Eugene Onegin has held the stage since its premiere; the Letter Scene, in which Tatyana knowingly risks all for love of a cynical anti-hero, its highlight. The Welsh-Ukrainian soprano Natalya Romaniw responded with real impulsiveness and, if her projection was too full-on to convey the emotional ambivalence and fragility of its central stages, the joyous abandon of its beginning and reckless determination at its close were duly rendered with unfailing charisma.

Romaniw sounded even more in her element as the jilted lover of Pietro Metastasio’s lyric Ah! Perfido which Beethoven set in his mid-20s. The latter wrote few such concert arias, but the immediacy of his response can hardly be gainsaid and Romaniw gave it her all – whether in its despairing introduction, the more consoling yet hardly untroubled expression that follows, or the steely resolve of those closing pages where the former ‘loved one’ is denounced in no uncertain terms. As in the Tchaikovsky, it was a pity neither text nor surtitles were provided.

Quite how Beethoven’s Second Symphony fitted into tonight’s conception was unclear, other than with its determination to defy fate and live life to the full, but Sinaisky evidently relished putting the CBSO through its paces – not least a first movement whose imposing introduction prepared for an Allegro of driving impetus and emotional fervour ideally intertwined prior to the blazing coda. Easy to underestimate, the Larghetto impressed with its lilting elegance and, in the central development, its teasing modulations – alongside a pay-off of disarming poise.

If, given its textural weight and unabashed rhetoric, this was ostensibly a performance of the ‘old school’, there was nothing portentous about Sinaisky’s take on the Scherzo – as lithe and quizzical as its trio was capricious, then the final Allegro had the character of an opera buffa ensemble refashioned for the post-Classical symphony toward which Beethoven was striving. Not the least attraction of this reading was its differentiation between soft and loud dynamics – crucial to the impact of a lengthy coda which fairly crackled with energy in its closing bars.

A gripping performance of a symphony which, while hardly unknown, is likely the least often played (albeit in the UK) of Beethoven’s nine. Sinaisky has enjoyed a productive relationship with the CBSO across the years, and it is to be hoped that this will continue in future seasons.

Click on the link to read more on the current CBSO concert season, and on the names for more on soprano Natalya Romaniw and conductor Vassily Sinaisky. To read more about the Beethoven works in the program, follow Arcana’s Listening to Beethoven series – which has already included Ah! Perfido and the Symphony no.2

Published post no.2,089 – Friday 16 February 2024

In concert – Carolyn Sampson & Joseph Middleton @ Wigmore Hall – Album für die Frau: Eight scenes from the Lieder of Robert and Clara Schumann

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Carolyn Sampson Photo: Marco Borggeve

Carolyn Sampson (soprano, above), Joseph Middleton (piano, below)

Songs and piano music by Robert and Clara Schumann – full list at bottom of review

Wigmore Hall, London
Wednesday 14 February 2024

by Ben Hogwood Photos by Marco Borggreve (Carolyn Sampson) and Sussie Ahlberg (Joseph Middleton)

This was a Valentine’s Day concert with a difference. No orchestra, no Romeo & Juliet – but rather an intimate presentation of a musical marriage, that of composer / pianists Robert and Clara Schumann, whose relationship has been increasingly under the microscope in the past few years.

This is a good thing, for when Robert and Clara married on 12 September 1840 the concept of equality within marriage, let alone classical music, was very different indeed. Robert, in the outpouring of song that he experienced in that year, completed the song cycle Frauenliebe und -leben, to poetry by Adelbert von Chamisso attempting a depiction of marriage from a woman’s perspective. It is certainly not how we recognise the institution of marriage today, which soprano Carolyn Sampson acknowledged in a Guardian article around the release of her Album für die Frau, the title of this concert, in 2021. In that article she put forward a strong case for continuing to sing the cycle, identifying with a good deal of the verse and even more of the music – but with her musical partner, pianist Joseph Middleton, she has recast the cycle.

Now the Schumanns’ marriage is given in four parts – love, marriage, parenthood and death – viewed through the prism of Frauenliebe but balanced through songs by Clara and Robert, or one of the latter’s piano pieces. Each song from the cycle had two accomplices, the context achieved through what must have been a painstaking selection process that, in this concert, bore much fruit. The coherent end piece was bisected by well-chosen text from the couple’s diaries and more.

With sadness inevitably looming towards the end it was a difficult structure for the duo to pitch, but they made it work through selections that made emotional sense and which, crucially, were harmonically linked. Sampson’s clarity of line was the clincher, her ability to carry not just a melody but the words with great diction, while the same could be said of Middleton’s phrasing, which as Sampson said in the introduction ‘could express what words cannot’. The postlude from Frauenliebe was the keenest example, exquisitely played.

The song cycle itself contained a great deal of emotion, especially in Du Ring an meinem Finger (You ring on my finger), where Sampson’s powerful crescendo was all-consuming. Clara’s songs proved the ideal complement, a little more Schubertian in style perhaps but harmonically more daring, often ending in suspension.

The first half included five settings of Rückert and felt slightly giddy in the intoxication of falling in love and wedded bliss, almost too good to be true – and so it proved, with the settings of Heinrich Heine bringing with them furrowed brows and family responsibilities, the music increasingly worrisome. Robert and Clara had eight children in all, and this section gave a glimpse of the weight of responsibility that would surely have left.

The masterstroke of this program, however, was not to finish with the end of the song cycle but to offer Robert’s Requiem, from his 6 Gedichte von N Laneu und Requiem Op.90, as a much-needed consolation, then the piano piece Winterzeit I, from the Album für die Jugend. Finally, as an encore, Clara’s Abendstern, a beautiful postscript with her love taken up to the stars, turned our gaze upwards once more.

It capped an unexpectedly moving account of two lives intertwined, offering a timely reminder of Clara’s torment at her husband’s untimely demise. One of the power couples of 19th century music they must have been, but this was a tender account of two lives entwined and enriched by beautiful song.

You can hear Album für die Frau, as released on BIS, below:

Carolyn Sampson and Joseph Middleton performed the following music:

Robert Schumann Langsam und mit Ausdruck zu spielen from Album für die Jugend Op. 68 (piano, 1848)
Clara Schumann Liebst du um Schönheit Op. 12 No. 2 (1841)
Robert Schumann Seit ich ihn gesehen from Frauenliebe und -leben Op. 42 (1840)
Volksliedchen Op. 51 No. 2 (1840)
Clara Schumann Liebeszauber Op. 13 No. 3 (1840-3)
Robert Schumann Er, der Herrlichste von allen from Frauenliebe und -leben Op. 42
Clara Schumann An einem lichten Morgen from 6 Lieder aus Jucunde Op. 23 (1853)
Warum willst du and’re fragen Op. 12 No. 3 (1841)
Robert Schumann Ich kann’s nicht fassen, nicht glauben from Frauenliebe und -leben Op. 42
Clara Schumann Die stille Lotosblume Op. 13 No. 6 (1840-3)
Robert Schumann Du Ring an meinem Finger from Frauenliebe und -leben Op. 42
From Myrthen Op. 25 (1840): Lied der Braut I • Lied der Braut II
Glückes genug from Kinderszenen Op. 15 (piano, 1838)
Interval
Robert Schumann
Helft mir, ihr Schwestern from Frauenliebe und -leben Op. 42
Die Lotosblume from Myrthen Op. 25
Lust der Sturmnacht from Kerner Lieder Op. 35 (1840)
Süsser Freund, du blickest from Frauenliebe und -leben Op. 42
Hochländisches Wiegenlied from Myrthen Op. 25
Der Sandmann from Lieder-Album für die Jugend Op. 79 (1849)
Kind im Einschlummern from Kinderszenen Op. 15 (piano)
An meinem Herzen, an meiner Brust from Frauenliebe und -leben Op. 42
Ritter vom Steckenpferd from Kinderszenen Op. 15 (piano)
Dein Angesicht Op. 127 No. 2 (1840)
Nun hast du mir den ersten Schmerz getan from Frauenliebe und -leben Op. 42
Requiem from 6 Gedichte von N Lenau und Requiem Op. 90 (1850)
Winterzeit I from Album für die Jugend Op. 68 (piano)
Clara Schumann
Abendstern

Published post no.2,088 – Thursday 15 February 2024

On paper – Composing Myself by Sir Andrzej Panufnik (Collected Writings, Volume One)

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Composing Myself
by Sir Andrzej Panufnik
(Collected Writings, Volume One)
Toccata Press [477pp, hardback, illustrated, ISBN 978-0-907689-90-4, £80]

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse

What’s the story?

Toccata Press continues its estimable ‘Musicians on Music’ series with this New Edition of Composing Myself – the autobiography of Andrzej Panufnik, first published (by Methuen) in 1987, now reissued with many new annotations, photographs and an end-piece by his widow.

What’s the book like?

Panufnik’s life – taking in the unsettled formative period of his youth, traumatic years with Nazi then Soviet occupation of Warsaw and takeover by communist forces loyal to Moscow, then rigid Stalinization of Polish culture on Socialist Realist lines resulting in his defection to the UK – would make a compelling film, and it typifies this composer’s unwavering integrity he pointedly eschews sensationalism or false emotion in its relating. Moreover, such measured objectivity is enhanced by his tangible evoking of an era cruelly obliterated while resulting in the death of his brother and destruction of all his music. The era of his emergence as Poland’s leading composer and conductor, but also a pawn at the hands of his political ‘masters’, is no less absorbing. Panufnik’s subsequent life – his struggle for recognition in an adopted country where his music fell-foul of officialdom while finding favour with conductors such as Leopold Stokowski and Jascha Horenstein – runs parallel to his evolving a mature idiom and, with the support of his second wife Camilla Jessel, the creative renaissance of his last quarter-century.

Panufnik’s text, left unaltered from 36 years before, is rounded out with explanatory footnotes – by Toccata MD Martin Anderson and the composer’s widow – that fill in a background often unclear or conjectural when Poland was still under communist rule. Almost all his friends or colleagues from the pre-war era are accorded brief but pertinent biographies, but the absence of information about his first wife Marie Elizabeth O’Mahoney (Scarlett Panufnik) after the breakdown of their marriage and divorce in 1959 is surprising (she died in seeming obscurity in 1984). There is an effusive Preface by Simon Callow, contextual Editorial Introduction by Anderson and, most valuably, a Postscriptum by Lady Panufnik. This takes the narrative from 1987 with the composer working on his most ambitious work, the Ninth Symphony, through a further 14 years as saw further high-profile premieres and recordings of almost all his major works before his untimely death in 1991. A late addition details the crucial role of MI6 officer (later MP) Neil Marten in Paunfnik’s escaping Polish ‘minders’ while in Switzerland in 1954.

Is it worth reading?

Absolutely. Panufnik’s being a significant cultural figure as well as a major composer should commend this book to anyone at all interested in the history of post-war Europe. Along with almost all those previously reproduced, this new edition features a host of photos unknown or not available in 1987 and which complement the narrative unerringly. This book is otherwise produced to Toccata’s customary high standards, with an index of works and a general index. Specific information on each piece can be found at Panufnik’s dedicated website (see below).

Is it recommended?

Indeed. The book is Volume One of Panufnik’s collected writings, its successor intended to collate the composer’s articles on music and culture together with his numerous programme notes. Hopefully this can be published in time for the 35th anniversary of his death in 2026.

For more information on the book and to explore purchase options, visit the Toccata Classics website

Listening to Beethoven #226 – 6 Ecossaises WoO83

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Design for a Beethoven commemorative coin for 5 German marks, 1969 – photograph of an unmarked model

6 Ecossaises WoO83 for piano (c1806, Beethoven aged 35)

Dedication unknown
Duration 2″

Listen

by Ben Hogwood

Background and Critical Reception

The general Wikipedia definition for an Ecossaise is ‘an energetic country dance in duple time in which couples form lines facing each other’. Keith Anderson, writing notes for Naxos, states that ‘the so-called Scottish dance was, in fact, a form of contredanse, a product of French imagination’.

Beethoven wrote a small number of these dances for piano, and according to the brief notes for the DG Beethoven Edition, ‘some of these were intended to be used in ballrooms to accompany actual dancing, as seems to have been the case with the ecossaises and waltzes WoO83-86.’

These examples were published in 1807, though there is some doubt over their authenticity.

Thoughts

These lively dances are a lot of fun – and Beethoven shows that even in supposedly minor works like this, he is still capable of writing a tune that will stay in the head. It is the refrain that ends the first dance, and then comes back for a repeat after each of the six little variant dances.

Anyone who had ventured on to the dance floor at the sound of the first dance will surely have stayed for the duration, and hoped for more of the same in successive works!

Recordings used and Spotify playlist

Ronald Brautigam (BIS)
Jenó Jandó (Naxos)
Olli Mustonen (Decca)
Alfred Brendel (Vox)
Wilhelm Kempff (DG)
Martino Tirimo (Hänssler)

Some lively recordings here, and some notably different approaches. Martino Tirimo is curiously stilted, while Brendel, Kempff and Jenó Jandó are typically elegant. Ronald Brautigam is brisk and lively, his dancers whirling around in circles.

Also written in 1806 Hummel 12 Minuets

Next up String Quartet no.7 in F major Op.59/1