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

BBC Proms #49 – Louise Alder, Dame Sarah Connolly, CBSO Chorus, London Symphony Chorus, London Symphony Orchestra / Sir Simon Rattle – Mahler ‘Resurrection’ Symphony

Prom 49 – Louise Alder, Dame Sarah Connolly, CBSO Chorus, London Symphony Chorus, London Symphony Orchestra / Sir Simon Rattle

Birtwistle Donum Simoni MMXVIII (2018)
Mahler Symphony no.2 in C minor ‘Resurrection’ (1888-1894)

Royal Albert Hall, London
Wednesday 24 August 2022

Reviewed by Ben Hogwood Photos (c) Chris Christodoulou

“A symphony must be like the world. It must contain everything.”

The words of Gustav Mahler were never more appropriate than in the context of this exceptional BBC Proms concert, as Sir Simon Rattle and assembled forces from London and Birmingham threw body and soul into a spectacular performance of the composer’s Symphony no.2.

This, Mahler’s ‘Resurrection’ symphony, puts its listener through the emotional wringer on a journey inhabiting life and death itself. The work has become a calling card for Rattle, too – he marked the opening of Birmingham’s Symphony Hall with a memorable performance in 1991, and took his leave of the CBSO with the same piece. Here, as he prepares to step down as Music Director of the London Symphony Orchestra, he was marking the turning of a page through a move to pastures new in Bavaria, where he will become Chief Conductor of the Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks and the Bavarian Radio Chorus.

The pastures were a standout feature of this performance – but we began in turmoil, the huge first movement funeral march rumbling into gear with lines hewn from granite in the lower strings. Rattle pushes this movement forward much more than he once did, keeping a firm hand on the tiller, but with immediate and full immersion in Mahler’s thoughts. As the first movement took shape the horrors of death revealed themselves – along with hopes of sunnier climes through some beautifully shaded rustic scenes. Yet the chill winds kept returning, ultimately sweeping these away as the movement closed in their bleak acceptance.

Many accounts of the ‘Resurrection’ lose their focus at this point, but not this one. Instead we had a balletic triple time Ländler, danced with grace as the feather-light strings had their charming way. The main theme swelled like a newly budding flower, and although ghoulish reminders of the first movement persisted, this was the abiding impression. As Rattle pressed on without a break, however, the reveries were abruptly quashed by the hammer and tongs of the third movement Scherzo. Here the music twisted and turned sharply, the LSO responding to its conductor with peerless virtuosity in music of fire and brimstone. Percussion, wind and brass were superb.

Then, as the music teetered on the point of collapse, it was time to be borne away with the consoling tones of Dame Sarah Connolly (above, right). A consummate Mahlerian, she sang with compelling strength and grace, a powerful stage presence in league with Rattle, who presided over accompaniment of the greatest clarity. Connolly’s Urlicht was beautifully judged, taking us ever nearer to the wondrous entry of the choir.

Now time stood still. The audience, especially in the arena, were rooted to the spot at the massed choirs of the CBSO Chorus and London Symphony Chorus, singing as one in magically hushed tones. As the finale took shape it was by turns earth-moving and tender. Scenes flashed before the eyes, and an especially vivid episode from brass and percussion in the gallery observed a village-band intimacy. Here the Royal Albert Hall was utilised to its full potential, managing the wide scope of Mahler’s vision to perfection.

At the centre of this apocalyptic finale, percussion depicted the rising of the dead and the release of their chains, Rattle intentionally dragging his feet here to heighten the seismic impact. And then we were free, the resurrection itself met with blazing colours all around as the choirs sang Friedrich Klopstock’s text ‘Aufersteh’n, ja aufersteh’n wirst di’ (‘Rise again, yea rise again, shalt thou’) as though their lives depended on it. Was it fanciful to suggest three years’ worth of pent-up emotion being released at this point? Probably not, when you consider the day-to-day roles of the choral singers themselves – carers, key workers, parents and children alike – with all finding the time and the need to bring us this music of the utmost quality.

Great credit should go to chorus director Simon Halsey for securing such discipline and humanity in the texts, and to soprano Louise Alder (both above with Dame Sarah Connolly and Sir Simon Rattle). Alder sang above the masses with perfectly judged dynamics and phrasing, like Connolly fully aware of the scope of her role. Organist Richard Gowers added the icing on the cake, underpinning the throng with ideally judged balance.

This was a performance to talk about for years to come, a throwing-open of the doors to proclaim that music can – really – triumph over pretty much anything, the ‘Resurrection’ symphony, clearing everything in its path.

As an upbeat to the symphony we heard a short gift to Rattle from Sir Harrison Birtwistle, to whose memory the Prom was dedicated.  Donum Simoni MMXVIII was typical of its composer, a spiky and even snarky postcard firing out missives from the (superb) percussion section against barbed comments from wind and brass. Lasting barely four minutes, it served its function well – but for tonight, as Mahler would have wished, the symphony was everything.

You can listen to Sir Simon Rattle’s recording of Mahler’s ‘Resurrection’ symphony on Spotify below, where the CBSO Chorus and Symphony Orchestra are joined by soloists Arleen Auger and Dame Janet Baker:

On Record – SRSQ: Ever Crashing (Dais)

by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

This is the second album from singer-songwriter Kennedy Ashlyn, who goes by the artistic name of SRSQ (pronounced ‘seer-skew’).

It was three years in the making, though when you get a hint of Ashlyn’s story the importance of this record falls into place. Her debut album, after all, was a response to the tragic death of her one time bandmate Cath Askew in Oakland – and Ever Crashing was an expression at the news of her diagnosis with ADHD and bipolar disorder. Music became a necessity, the primary means of expression.

The Ever Crashing title is pertinent, to quote from the press release documenting ‘Ashlyn’s recurring sensation of being trapped in the crest of a wave, turned and churned in the surf, mirroring the cycles of self-flagellation and surrender that she battles being bipolar’.

What’s the music like?

Even without the backstory in mind, Ever Crashing is a powerful experience. Ashlyn’s voice is the primary reason for this, a most impressive instrument capable of holding its own above a wall of guitars but never straining, always relatable, and always clear in its lyrical delivery (an underrated quality!)

It Always Rains gives us a slow and powerful beginning, showing off influences that run from Cocteau Twins and All About Eve to The Cure and School of Seven Bells perhaps – all names speculation because the music fits in next to theirs. Yet the result is that SRSQ does have a distinct identity, Ashlyn’s compelling presence piercing the clouds.

Saved For Summer throws open the windows with a rush of guitars, as does the standout Dead Loss, a really strong pop song with a winning hook. The title track packs a punch, too, as does Élan Vital, which finds the singer noting how ‘winter twists and turns, when the days are cold and sparse’. Later on she asks, “What is it about the cold that makes me sad?”

The closing Someday I Will Bask In The Sun offers a way out. “In my own time I will christen this prison of my own design, I am risen, forgiven,” sings Ashlyn over a fidgety breakbeat.

Does it all work?

Much of it does, especially vocally. The tracks do tend to be quite long, which on the plus side means they have plenty of time to establish the mood but also that they can overrun.

Is it recommended?

It is. There is much to commend this record, its stand against adversity, and its musical assertiveness in the face of the storm. As a listener you will emerge suitably inspired.

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BBC Proms #47 – Sheléa, Vula’s Chorale, Jules Buckley Orchestra / Jules Buckley – Aretha Franklin: Queen of Soul

Prom 47 – Sheléa (vocals), Vula’s Chorale, Jules Buckley Orchestra / Jules Buckley

Royal Albert Hall, London

Monday 22 August 2022

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse Photos (c) Mark Allan

The year during which she would have celebrated her 80th birthday made this celebration of Aretha Franklin a shoo-in for the Proms. Jules Buckley was on hand with his newly formed eponymous orchestra for an evening that surveyed the Queen of Soul’s considerable stylistic range, as surely as it introduced a much-heralded American singer, songwriter, and pianist to the wider UK public. After her performance tonight, indeed, it would be more then surprising were Sheléa (Frazier) not to have found an appreciably higher profile this side of the Atlantic.

If not strictly chronological, the programme began with an obvious homage to Aretha’s roots in John Wright’s Precious Memories and gospel as its most soulful – astutely balanced by the Broadnax/Paul/Wonder Until You Come Back to Me (That’s What I’m Gonna Do) and soul at its most pop. The pathos of Hoagy Carmichael’s Skylark was enhanced with a flute-drenched arrangement, then Sheléa took to the piano for the emotional build-up of the Nelson/Ertegun Don’t Play That Song (You Lied) with the sax section bracingly to the fore. Next came two co-writes from Franklin and her one-time husband Ted White – the smouldering blues of Dr Feelgood (no pub-rock connotations here) followed by the up-tempo Think with its rousing call-and-response between Sheléa and Vula Malinga’s gospel choir. Expressively mannered though her take on Leonard Bernstein’s Somewhere might have been, the evocative quality of the arrangement by Quincy Jones could hardly be doubted. The raunchy r&b of Dan Covay’s Chain of Fools, keyboards much in evidence, saw this first half through to its full-on close.

An interval costume-change and Sheléa got the insouciance of Burt Bacharach’s I Say a Little Prayer down to a tee, thanks in part to an atmospheric orchestral introduction, as she did the plaintive soul-pop of Curtis Mayfield’s Sparkle. A member of the choir audibly enjoyed his ‘George Michael’ cameo with the Climie/Morgan duet I Knew You Were Waiting (for Me), complemented by the punchy afro-beat of Franklin’s own Rock Steady. The choir came into its own first via the Leiber/Spector Spanish Harlem with its effective interplay of solos and ensemble, followed by Franklin’s Day Dreaming with its sensuous contribution from flutes and vibes. A second costume-change – and Sheléa returned for a suitably though sincerely histrionic rendition of John Newton’s Amazing Grace, before launching into a take on the Goffin/King (You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman that oozed pulsating energy. This, in turn, segued into the inevitable closing number – Otis Redding’s Respect, its incitement   to the attaining then maintaining of freedom surely as relevant today as it was 57 years ago.

Throughout this programme, Sheléa’s commitment to the Aretha cause was underpinned in no uncertain terms by Buckley, who rightly took a moment to pay tribute to those arrangers – two of whom, tenor saxophonist Tom Richards and the trumpeter Tom Walsh, were active members of his orchestra – whose input had made this evening the success it proved to be. Singer and conductor met the applause from a capacity Albert Hall with a version of Paul Simon’s Bridge over Troubled Water finding Sheléa and her piano in intimate communion.

Click on the artist names for more information on Sheléa, Vula Malinga and Jules Buckley – and for a site dedicated to Aretha Franklin, click here

Switched On – Au Suisse: Au Suisse (City Slang)

Reviewed by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

Au Suisse is the much-anticipated pairing of producer Morgan Geist and vocalist Kelley Polar, aka Mike Kelley. Though perhaps that should read ‘re-pairing’, as the pair have a good deal of previous since they met at Ohio’s Oberlin College in the early 1990s. They worked together when Geist was part of the revered house / techno duo Metro Area, Kelley guesting on some of their vocal tracks, while Geist produced two Kelley Polar albums on his Environ label – records that really should be better known.

Au Suisse has a slightly different balance, as it finds them enjoying their first collaboration as equal partners, writing songs together rather than apart.

What’s the music like?

Rather special. As old friends, these two know what makes each other tick, and they clearly enjoy making music together – but there is something about the new venture that goes more deeply into personal experience than before. It almost goes without saying that Geist and Kelley would make elegant and classy electro pop, but the music of Au Suisse is like a beautifully coiffured object, with a series of influences stretching back to the 1980s.

Control is an atmospheric and poised first song, ghosting in on a single held note and holding back so you can hear every word before the electronics properly kick in. By contrast Thing is an uptempo workout, with urgency from the keyboards.

GC is a striking song, with a lush backdrop of keyboards and the striking observation of its controlling subject, “It’s how you pull the strings from so far away”. The dappled keyboards of Vesna are beautifully realised, and here Kelley’s vocals evoke Green Gartside of Scritti Politti or Paddy McAloon of 1980s Prefab Sprout, emitting a subtle euphoria but not without pain and regret behind. Indeed, Pain And Regret is the title of one of the songs, with an account of how “We know we tear each other apart”. Eely strips back to minimal thoughts and textures, a little more soulful in Kelley’s vocal, while the bass line for Plans curls round the edges like a lazy flame, the keyboards panning out for more thoughtful pop. The closing AG is a broadly sketched beauty, with ticking hi hat and piled-on reverb, as though Kelley has turned round at the door to give us some final thoughts in falsetto before the pair take their leave.

If it sounds like the music of Au Suisse is on a bit of a downer, that is emphatically not the case – rather it is bittersweet, elegant and beautifully poised. These two know what they’re doing, and classy pop music comes naturally to them.

Does it all work?

It does indeed. These songs are exquisitely crafted, with not a note out of place. The hushed vocals pull the ear in, and at the same time offer the opportunity to appreciate Morgan Geist’s beautiful production sets.

Is it recommended?

An easy decision. Au Suisse is like meeting an old friend – which ironically is the root of the whole project. Morgan Geist and Kelley Polar have crafted an exquisite album which is by turns classy, cultured and subtly uplifting.

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BBC Proms #44 – Soloists, BBC Symphony Chorus & Orchestra / Sakari Oramo: Ethel Smyth ‘Mass’ & Debussy ‘Nocturnes’

Prom 44 – Nardus Williams (soprano), Bethan Langford (mezzo-soprano), Robert Murray (tenor), Božidar Smiljanić (bass), BBC Symphony Chorus, BBC Symphony Orchestra / Sakari Oramo

Debussy Nocturnes (1897-9)
Smyth Mass in D (1891, rev. 1924) [Proms premiere]

Royal Albert Hall, London

Saturday 20 August 2022

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse Photos (c) Chris Christodoulou

His third Prom this season found Sakari Oramo conducting the BBC Symphony Orchestra in an unlikely yet, in the event, thought provoking double-bill of pieces composed at either end of the same decade and which duly played to the strengths of all those who were taking part.

The music of Ethel Smyth has been a prominent feature of this season and while her Mass in D comes too early in her career to be considered ‘mature’, it does evince many of those traits as defined the operas that followed. Written during a brief flush of adherence to Anglicanism, this is demonstrably a concert rather than liturgical setting (which makes its apparent status as the first Mass heard publicly in England for almost 300 years the more ironic) and, moreover, one of a ‘symphonic’ rather than ‘solemn’ conception despite the audible debt to Beethoven.

Smyth reinforces this aspect by placing the Gloria at the close – thereby making it the finale of a sequence in which the Kyrie, building gradually to a baleful climax before returning to its initial sombreness, becomes an extended introduction to the Credo whose numerous sub-sections facilitate a sonata-form design of no mean formal cohesion and expressive breadth. For their part, the Sanctus, Benedictus and Agnus Dei function as extended slow movement whose (for the most part) emotional restraint enables the soloists to come to the fore – after which, the Gloria takes its place as a finale not least in terms of drawing on previous themes and motifs through to the forceful though never merely bathetic culmination. That Smythe did not essay a symphony given her evident structural command seems the more surprising.

Tonight’s performance was no less assured than that which Oramo gave at the Barbican (and subsequently recorded, albeit with different soloists) three seasons ago. The soloists made the most of their contributions – Nardus Williams bringing a plaintiveness and elegance that was ideally complemented with Bethan Langford’s warmth and understated fervency, and though Robert Murray’s ardency showed signs of strain, he was no less ‘inside’ his part than Božidar Smiljanić, whose solo was more affecting for its burnished eloquence. The BBC Symphony Chorus responded as one to the full-on contrapuntal writing of those main movements, while Richard Pearce ensured the (too?) extensive organ part did not muddy the orchestral textures. Oramo directed with clear enjoyment a work that, for the most part, justified its 62 minutes.

In the first half, Oramo presided over a searching account of Debussy’s Nocturnes – its three movements still sometimes encountered separately but far more effective heard as a complete entity. Not its least impressive aspect was the ease with which these followed on from each other with a cumulative inevitability – the fugitive shading of Nuages (melting cor anglais playing by Helen Vigurs) leading to the half-lit activity of Fêtes, with its darting gestures and a central march-past of vivid understatement, then on to the sensuous allure of Sirènes.

As enticing as the women’s voices of the BBCSC sounded in this closing movement, it was the fervency with which Oramo infused its recalcitrant content such as made it the natural culmination of the sequence – the final bars dying away with a tangible sense of fulfillment.

Click on the artist names for more information on Nardus Williams, Bethan Langford, Robert Murray, Božidar Smiljanić and Sakari Oramo and for more information on the BBC Symphony Orchestra head to their website. For more on composer Dame Ethel Smyth, click here