Yesterday we learned the very sad news of the death of Finnish composer Kaija Saariaho at the age of 70. Saariaho blossomed as a unique voice in 20th and 21st-century classical music, her music notable for its picturesque qualities and colourful, often exotic instrumentation.
Thankfully a good deal of her work has been recorded by the ever-enterprising Ondine Records, who put this playlist together in celebration of her 70th birthday earlier in the year:
Meanwhile you can watch Vista, one of Saariaho’s most striking recent orchestral works, in the performance below with the Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Susanna Mälkki
Benjamin Grosvenor (piano), City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra / Riccardo Minasi
Schubert Overture in C major ‘In the Italian style’ D591 (1817) Chopin Piano Concerto no.2 in F minor Op.21 (1830) Mozart Symphony no.41 in C major K551 ‘Jupiter’ (1788)
Symphony Hall, Birmingham Thursday 1 June 2023 (2.15pm)
Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse
It is not often these days to have a whole concert of music from the late Classical and early Romantic eras, but that was just what the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra provided this afternoon under the disciplined as well as immensely assured direction of Riccardo Minasi.
There was no mistaking the inherent classicism of Chopin’s Second (sic) Piano Concerto – not least the simmering impetus in its opening Maestoso where, after a forthright tutti, Benjamin Grosvenor rendered those main melodies with requisite poise, and the emotional eddying of its development in direct contrast to the terseness of its coda. Most memorable was a Larghetto of melting eloquence but also, in its central episode, a volatility only gradually dispelled. Here, and in the final Allegro, the almost concertante role allotted to bassoon was characterfully taken by Nikolaj Henriques – as were those brass fanfares and col legno writing for strings (was this really Chopin’s idea?) which see the latter movement on its way to a spirited close. A limpid take on Chopin’s Nocturne in C sharp minor from the same year made for an appropriate encore.
Mozart symphonies rarely conclude a programme nowadays, yet the last four are ideal for this purpose and none more than the Forty-First – by some distance the weightiest and the most physical such work prior to Beethoven’s Eroica. This was the highlight of Minasi’s recording of the final triptych (Harmonia Mundi), with the opening Allegro likewise a statement of intent in its rhythmic tensility and general bravura, though its more ambivalent asides were never downplayed. Less distinctive melodically than its two predecessors, the Andante is memorable for its expressive understatement and a subtlety – with wind and strings enfolded into a textural continuity – that accentuates its pathos. Nor was there any lack of suavity in the Menuetto, its outer sections finding ideal contrast with a trio whose pert expectancy was delectably pointed.
The final Allegro crowns this work in every respect and, here again, Minasi did not disappoint. Not that there any sense of merely ‘going through the motions’ with his inclusion of first- and second-half repeats, each of which brought added intensity to what had gone before as well as enabling the wealth of contrapuntal detail to come through as it too rarely does. For its part the CBSO more than rose to the challenge, not least in a coda whose methodical combining of this movement’s themes makes possible an apotheosis such as felt truly visceral in its affirmation.
Schubert evidently had other preoccupations when essaying his two overtures ‘in the Italian style’, both of which have fallen out of the repertoire this past half-century but which make for attractive and appealing curtain-raisers. Especially that in C major with its teasingly portentous introduction, jocular and lilting main themes, then coda which sees it through to an effervescent close. The CBSO players (woodwind in particular) audibly enjoyed making its acquaintance, and it would be a real pity were such pieces relegated to the lower reaches of today’s playlists.
Hopefully a performance such as that by Minasi will make this just a little less likely. One looks forward to his future collaboration with this orchestra, which returns next Wednesday with its chief conductor Kazuki Yamada in a programme featuring Holst, Beethoven and Rachmaninoff.
Peanuts comic strip, drawn by Charles M. Schulz (c)PNTS
An die Hoffnung Op.32 for voice and piano (1805, Beethoven aged 34)
Dedication Countess Josephine von Brunsvik Text Christoph August Tiedge
Duration 4’00”
Listen
by Ben Hogwood
Background and Critical Reception
Christoph August Tiedge’s lied An die Hoffnung had a profound effect on Beethoven, who set the text on two separate occasions – once published as Op.94 in 1816, but firstly published as Op.32 eleven years prior. Its dedication to Countess Josephine von Brunsvik is significant, for she was an unrequited love interest for the composer early in 1805. In March she wrote to her mother, “The good Beethoven has composed a lovely song for me on a text from Urania ‘An die Hoffnung’ as a gift for me”
By the summer feelings on both sides had cooled somewhat, with Beethoven removing Josephine as its dedicatee. Susan Youens, in booklet notes written for a collection of Beethoven lieder on Signum Classics, describes how the song’s ‘major mode optimism is rendered profound by darker touches of minor. The singer’s eloquent leap upward and the quiet blaze of a new (major) key for the acclamation to Hope – “O Hoffnung” – are unforgettable’.
Thoughts
This does indeed appear to be one of Beethoven’s most heartfelt utterances in the medium of singer and piano. It helps that the range of the song falls neatly within the grasp of either a baritone or tenor range, making it available for almost all male voice types.
Yet it is the elegance of the piano with which Beethoven begins, an unspoken melody spinning out with heartfelt ease. When the singer enters the mood is solemn yet rays of light are frequently shed by the piano harmonies as the music turns back to the major key.
The song makes a profound impact, both singer and pianist under the spell of Tiedge’s poetry, right up to the final line – and a final serene thought from the piano. We are in the calm of E flat major, same key as the Eroica symphony, but what a different mood we have here – vulnerability instead of heroism.
Recordings used
Werner Güra (tenor), Christoph Berner (fortepiano) (Harmonia Mundi) Matthias Goerne (baritone), Jan Lisiecki (piano) (Deutsche Grammophon) Ian Partridge (tenor), Richard Burnett (fortepiano) (Amon Ra) Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau (baritone), Jörg Demus (piano) (Deutsche Grammophon) John Mark Ainsley (tenor), Iain Burnside (piano) (Signum Classics) Hermann Prey (baritone), Leonard Hokanson (piano) (Capriccio)
Fischer-Dieskau benefits from a heavenly introduction from pianist Jörg Demus, who sets the tone for an intense and often visionary account. The two recordings with fortepiano are quite different – Werner Güra and Christoph Berner pressing on a quite a rate when compared with Ian Partidge and Richard Burnett.
Also written in 1805 Spohr String Quartet no.2 in G minor Op.4/2
Raphael Wallfisch (cello, below), BBC Concert Orchestra / Martin Yates
Lewis A Celebratory Overture (2023) [EMF commission: World premiere] Lloyd Webber (orch. Yates) Scenes from Childhood (c1950) [World premiere] Moeran Cello Concerto in B minor (1945) Alwyn Serenade for Orchestra (1932) [World premiere] Delius Two Pieces for Small Orchestra (1911-12) Vaughan Williams (arr. Adrian Williams) A Road All Paved with Stars (1929/2016) [Public premiere]
Dorchester Abbey, Dorchester-on-Thames Friday 26 May 2023
Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse
The breezy ebullience of Paul Lewis’s A Celebratory Overture (redolent of Malcolm Arnold without any risk of expressive ambiguity) launched this latest English Music Festival in fine style, with its crisp and precise playing from the BBC Concert Orchestra under Martin Yates.
As so often in these concerts, world premieres were not lacking and the first brought hitherto unknown partsongs by William Lloyd Webber arranged into suite-form then orchestrated by the conductor. If the resultant Scenes from Childhood adds but little to the reputation of this not inconsiderable figure, the Prelude yields appealing poise while Serenade is a waltz of no mean suavity, then the Finale nimbly combines elements of fugue and waltz on its way to a rousing close. Worth hearing, and not least when rendered with such obvious enjoyment.
The emotional weight of this first half inevitably fell upon the Cello Concerto by E.J. Moeran. Completed in the aftermath of the Second World War, it was the composer’s first large-scale piece for his wife Peers Coetmore; her belated and often approximate recording likely having deterred others from taking it up. Not so Raphael Wallfisch (above), his belief evident from the outset of a Moderato whose confiding eloquence is not without undercurrents of unease. These latter are made explicit at the start of the Adagio, otherwise centred on one of the composer’s most affecting melodies and building with due inevitability to a cadenza whose growing animation carries over to the final Allegretto. Here a jig-like main theme denotes an Irish influence that offsets any tendency to introspection as it guides this engaging movement to a decisive close.
Quite a performance, then, which was complemented after the interval by a first hearing for the early(ish) Serenade by William Alwyn. Written while on examination duties in Australia, this undemanding piece moves from a (mostly!) tranquil Prelude, through a stealthy and by no means uninhibited Bacchanale then a serene Air which could yet find favour as a radio staple, to a Finale that, as Andrew Knowles rightly indicated in his programme note, betrays more than a hint of Czech folk-music across its insouciant and ultimately boisterous course.
Hardly an interlude, the brace of pieces by Delius fairly encapsulate the inward rapture of his maturity. Yates (above) brought just the right lilt to the dancing gait of On Hearing the First Cuckoo in Spring, while the subtle eddying of Summer Night on the River was effortlessly conveyed.
The final premiere tonight came in the guise of A Road All Paved with Stars – the ‘symphonic fantasy’ as arranged by Adrian Williams (a notable composer in his own right) from Vaughan Williams’ comic opera The Poisoned Kiss. Occasionally revived, its dramatic prolixity rather obscures its musical highpoints – emphasized here in what is both a chronological overview and cumulative paraphrase that also adds a non-symphonic orchestral work to its composer’s output. The surging emotion of those final stages could hardly leave an audience unmoved. This vivid reading concluded a memorable concert in which the Moeran was dedicated to the memory of Michal Kaznowski – who, as cellist of the Maggini Quartet and formerly section-leader at the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, has left a legacy worth remembering.
Wata Igarashi makes his Kompakt debut with this multi-dimensional album, the latest chapter in a career that has seen him release for The Bunker NY, Delsin, Midgar and Time To Express, as well as his own WIP net label.
Here he is for a full-blown concept album release, around the mythical secret kingdom of Agartha. In his own words, “Named for the mythical secret kingdom, understood as a complex maze of underground tunnels, perhaps designed by Martians who colonised the Earth tens of thousands of years ago, it’s a similarly mystical, perhaps even cosmic trip – but this time, exploring an inner, deeply personal cosmos.”
On his journey, Igarashi creates scenes from an imaginary film based on the kingdom, teeming with musical incident.
What’sthemusiclike?
Deeply mysterious from the start. Igarashi sets the mood with a thick cloud of ambience, that folds gradually over the music and sets a mood of disquiet through its use of microtones. This unsettled outlook continues when the beats arrive on Searching, but with Subterranean Life it feels as though the explorer has arrived at their destination and are beginning a journey of discovery.
The music becomes more fragmented and improvised, exploring more dimensions with metallic snippets of percussion, but then the mood changes with Ceremony Of The Dead, whose urgency increases as the melodic layers build. This track was originally written as part of a Sony 360 Reality Audio spatial sound concert, and it sounds great on headphones especially when a fresh vocal loop crosses over with Igarashi’s beats. The mood raises still further with Floating Against Time, a beatless number doffing its cap to Steve Reich, while at the same time showing Igarashi’s ability to cross-pollenate a number of different melodic lines with beautiful results. Abyss II runs with similar material, adding electronic sharpness.
Another scene change plunges us into the experimental climate of Burning, where musical activity and syncopation is rife, busy riffs trading off against each other. Agartha itself is the most descriptive scene, Igarashi painting pictures at a slower tempo even with the brush of a hi hat or the crescendo of a drone. This ushers in Darkness, but not the expected downward turn of mood – rather a cosmic interplay from swooping lines on the treble synth over an exquisite held chord. The mood settles towards the end, segueing nicely into Eternally, where the cosmic mood prevails but in much calmer waters.
Does it all work?
It does – though Agartha is definitely best experienced in one listen, so you get the twists, turns and mood changes of the whole journey.
Is it recommended?
It is. This is music of dense textures and intense colours, rewarding the listener who is prepared to revisit on several occasions. That way the secrets of Agartha can be fully unlocked.
