Category Archives: Orchestral

In concert – Maria Dueñas, CBSO / Kazuki Yamada: Beethoven Violin Concerto & Elgar ‘Enigma’ Variations

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Maria Dueñas (violin, above), City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra / Kazuki Yamada (below)

Beethoven Violin Concerto in D major Op. 61 (1806)
Elgar Variations on an Original Theme, ‘Enigma’, Op. 36 (1898-9)

Symphony Hall, Birmingham
Thursday 22 February 2024

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse Picture (c) Tam Lan Truong

Having given its ‘first part’ yesterday evening, Kazuki Yamada and the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra moved on to ‘Elgar & Beethoven: Part 2’ this evening, with an astute coupling of the latter’s Violin Concerto being followed by the former’s ‘Enigma’ Variations.

Anyone having heard Maria Dueñas in Lalo’s Symphonie espagnole at last year’s Proms will know she is a violinist destined for great things, as was reinforced her take on the Beethoven. Admittedly she and Yamada were not consistently as one in its lengthy first movement – the soloist’s tendency to rhapsodize and to tease out expressive nuance jarring, however slightly, with the conductor’s forthright assertiveness in tuttis. Yet there was no absence of insight on either part, such undeniable eloquence continuing through a central Larghetto that was more adagio as Dueñas conceived it, though which still conveyed a rapt inwardness. The ensuing Rondo lifted this mood appreciably, its impulsive main theme and whimsical episodes deftly eliding into a purposeful traversal of a finale whose conclusion was nothing if not decisive.

As with her recent recording of this concerto, Dueñas played her own cadenzas. That for the first movement had Bach-like deliberation and a harmonic astringency which readily held the attention; if that connecting the latter two movements seemed a little too protracted, and that towards the close of the finale rather offset its overall momentum, there could be no doubting her underlying conviction. She duly acknowledged the considerable applause with a suitably serene, never cloying arrangement for violin and strings of Fauré’s early song Après un rêve.

In his initial remarks, Yamada recalled conducting a Japanese brass band in the First Pomp and Circumstance March as his first experience with Elgar, and this account of the ‘Enigma Variations amply reaffirmed his identity with the composer. Not that this was an integrated or seamless account – Yamada’s halting, even ambivalent take on the Theme intensified in the first variation and, while the swifter variations had no lack of character or impetus, it was in such as the fifth variation’s suffused earnestness with whimsy that this reading left its mark.

On one level the Enigma is a forerunner of the ‘concerto for orchestra’ with its emphasizing various soloists – not least viola in the sixth variation, dextrously negotiated by Adam Römer, or cello in the 12th where Eduardo Vassallo was at his ruminative best. Initially a little stolid, Nimrod built to a culmination of real pathos, and even finer was Yamada’s take on the 10th variation for an intermezzo of unfailing poise and deftness. A tangible atmosphere pervaded the 13th variation – uncertainty as to its dedicatee just part of its fascination, with those veiled allusions to Mendelssohn elegantly rendered by Oliver Janes. From here to the final variation in all its confidence and anticipation was to be recall the impact this music made at the end of the 19th century, Yamada steering it with unforced rightness towards a resounding peroration. Overall, a performance full of insight and one hopes that Yamada will be continuing his Elgar exploration in future seasons. Next week, though, brings two concerts for which former music director Sakari Oramo will be returning to this orchestra for the first time in some 15 years.

Click on the link to read more on the current CBSO concert season, and on the names for more on violinist Maria Dueñas and conductor Kazuki Yamada. Arcana’s Listening to Beethoven series will reach the Violin Concerto soon!

Published post no.2,101 – Tuesday 27 February 2024

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 – Jess Gillam, CBSO / Eduardo Strausser: Villa-Lobos, John Williams, Rimsky-Korsakov & Stravinsky

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Jess Gillam (soprano & alto saxophone, above), City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra / Eduardo Strausser

Rossini La Cenerentola (1817) – Overture
Villa-Lobos Fantasia for Saxophone, W490 (1948)
Rimsky-Korsakov arr. Glazunov/Steinberg Le Coq d’or – Suite (1908, arr. 1909)
Williams Escapades (2002)
Stravinsky L’Oiseau de feu – Suite (1910, arr. 1919)

Symphony Hall, Birmingham
Wednesday 31 January 2024

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse. Photo (c) Robin Clewley

Brazilian conductor Eduardo Strausser made his welcome return to the City of Birmingham Symphony with a programme where three orchestral showpieces were heard alongside two pieces that gave full rein to the charismatic playing and persona of saxophonist Jess Gillam.

Although he featured the saxophone on numerous occasions, Heitor Villa-Lobos wrote just one concertante piece. His Fantasia makes a virtue out of brevity in the lively declamation of its opening movement then the motoric impetus of its finale. No slouch in either, Gillam sounded most involved (understandably so) in the central Lent – its initial melody for viola, soulfully rendered by Adam Römer, soon giving rise to an eloquent dialogue which (hardly for the first time) inferred, that in this most productive of composers, less can often be more.

More compelling overall was Escapades, a concerto drawn from his soundtrack to the Steven Spielberg film Catch Me if You Can by John Williams. A movie as promises rather more than it delivers, this features one of the most appealing of its composer’s latter-day scores with its evoking US culture in the early 1960s that the present work encapsulates to perfection. From the ominous while humorous expectancy as conjured by Closing In, via the lightly applied pathos of Reflections to the coursing energy of Joy Ride – this is Williams at something near his best and Gillam responded accordingly. A pity the contributions of double bass and vibraphone was not as prominent aurally as it was visually (maybe they should have been given more to do?), but this hardly affected the scintillating immediacy of what was heard.

Having opened proceedings with an account of the overture to Rossini’s Cinderella as deft and as scintillating as could be wished, Strausser ended the first half with a (surprisingly?) rare outing for the whole suite from Rimsky-Korsakov’s final opera The Golden Cockerel. For all the controversy aroused by its scenario, this is otherwise an archetypal example of its composer relying on technique rather than inspiration. Most of the best music can be found   in a suite made posthumously by Glazunov and Maximilian Steinberg that provides a telling portrait of Tsar Dodon – whether mired in the superstitious inertia of his palace, hapless (and helpless) on the battlefield, serenaded by the alluring Queen of Shemakha, or exuberant at his intended wedding before meeting his ‘lamentable end’ to the crowing of that pesky cockerel.

The CBSO despatched what is effectively a ‘concerto for orchestra’ before its time with real aplomb, then sounded no less committed in the second of those suites Stravinsky drew from his highly Rimskian ballet The Firebird. Here the sombre aura of its Introduction segued effortlessly into Appearance… and Dance of the Firebird, the latter exuding an infectious lilt, before a plaintive take on the Princesses’ Khorovod. Others have found greater abandon in the Infernal Dance, but the clarity and articulation conveyed here were beyond reproach. Strausser then steered a secure course through the Lullaby, its folk-derived bassoon melody plaintively intoned by Nikolaj Henriques, into a Finale whose hymnic jubilation set the seal on an evening where the absence of any Austro-German element proved its own justification.

Click on the link to read more on the current CBSO concert season, and on the names for more on saxophonist Jess Gillam, conductor Eduard Strausser and composer John Williams

Published post no.2,075 – Friday 2 February 2024

In concert – Marcus Roberts Trio, Philadelphia Orchestra / Yannick Nézet-Séguin @ Carnegie Hall: Stravinsky, Weill & Gershwin ‘Rhapsody In Blue’

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Breathtaking music-making for an attentive audience including a sparkling Petrushka.

Marcus Roberts Trio [Marcus Roberts, Martin Jaffe, and Jason Marsalis] Philadelphia Orchestra / Yannick Nézet-Séguin

Stravinsky Petrushka (1910-11 rev.1947)
Weill Symphony No. 2 (1933-34)
Gershwin Rhapsody in Blue (1924)

Carnegie Hall, United States
Tuesday 23 January 2024

Reviewed by Jon Jacob. Photo (c) Jon Jacob

For those of us from the UK more accustomed to perfunctory applause, the enthusiastic response from the audience welcomed conductor Yannick Nézet-Séguin to the stage ahead of Stravinsky‘s ballet Petrushka came as a bit of a surprise. The sound of the applause crinkled in the acoustics in a way I don’t remember hearing at the Cleveland concert. The capacity crowd was already psyched. Uplifting stuff before a single note was heard.

The Philadelphia Orchestra’s sound is incredible, generated by a powerful, carefully controlled machine that delivers both weight and delicacy. The band feels incredibly responsive, meaning the smallest of gestures can bring about a range of different colours and textures that illicit all manner of emotional responses. This receptiveness demands players at the top of their game. They are the elite.

There’s also a perceptible self-assurance in the sounds they produce. That promotes a sense of confidence in the listener, in turn elevating listening experience. Put simply if the first sounds you hear aren’t like anything you’ve heard before you’re going to listen more attentively, in the same way you’ll drive an expensive BMW differently simply because of the feel of the steering wheel and the smoothness of the ride. 

In Petrushka the principal flute had a bright sweet sound, flanked by a delicate and precise piccolo. There were beautifully burbling and babbling clarinets. Trumpets sparkled with rapid articulation that was clear but avoided fussy-ness. A virtuosic piano line highlights that the material was originally conceived as a concert piece for piano – the demands Stravinsky makes on the pianist remain high and it’s a dazzling contribution from pianist Kiyoko Takeuti.

Elsewhere, the big string section brings phenomenal weight given the heft (no great surprises perhaps – 17 first violins, 14 seconds, 12 violas, 10 cellos and 8 basses).  When the basses underpinned a sequence, it felt as though we were digging down into the foundations, great jabs slicing into the ground with a sharp-edged spade.

The Weill Second Symphony opened the second half. A smaller number of players on stage but still the same detail, responsiveness and jaw-dropping spirit that elevates this band above so many others. At three movements it is a concise work, packed full of evocative tunes, inventive treatments, and tantalising textures. It undoubtedly entertains but does it move? I’m not entirely convinced, although age has mellowed me, so my conclusions are not as severe as those reported by Weill to a friend after the 1934 premiere who said the work had been dismissed as ‘banal, ‘disjointed’, and ‘empty’.

There were plenty of entertaining thrills and spills conjuring up nail-biting peril and jeopardy in the first movement. The Mahlerian second movement funeral march had some respite from the powerful grandeur on display in the sweet flute and trombone solos. It was a much prompter reading compared to some of the recordings I’ve listened to after the concert. Weill’s trademark melodies are evident in the final raucous movement.

Running to half an hour, Weill’s second symphony isn’t a long work, but given the stage move necessary to bring the piano and drum kit on for the final Rhapsody in Blue, the evening was feeling long. But the payoff was undoubtedly worth it. Hearing the music of New York, written in New York, here in New York was special. So too hearing the Marcus Roberts Trio with Philadelphia Orchestra.

Pianist Marcus Roberts treats the work’s piano sequences with far more improvisational zeal than the more familiar ‘straight’ recordings (you can get a sense of the material from this performance filmed in Geneva’s Victoria Hall

The familiar signpost orchestral sequences remain, but the energy is upped tenfold by the seeming flights of creative fancy the trio embarked upon. Excited applause rippled around the auditorium accordingly. The effect of this ‘directors cut’ was for competition to emerge between orchestra and trio. When the improvisations concluded and the orchestra kicked in, the well-known orchestral score sounded dull in comparison to the spectacle we had been treated to before. Was the kind of ‘Experiment in Modern Music’ Gershwin had in mind when the work was first premiered at the Aoliean Hall down the road a hundred years before?

The energy in the auditorium unexpectedly seemed to come with me as I made a ‘dash’ up the steep balcony steps for the exit. After I’d run for a subway train (conveniently located outside the concert hall), I sat down and immediately yawned. Heads turned.

“It was a long evening, wasn’t it?” said the man sat next to me. “It was. But I loved every single minute of it.” “The Weill was fantastic. I do think they packed in more than they needed to. And I’m sure the ensemble was off in the Petrushka.” He looked across the aisle to a couple who were listening to our exchange. “I thought so too,” said the woman. Then a man stood in the aisle, “No. It was the Weill that was the problem. I can’t stand Weill.” 

I gently protested, jokingly telling them they were all wrong and they should take a long hard look at themselves and listen back to the broadcast when they got home. A surprisingly in-depth conversation ensued amongst the five of us. I missed my stop as a result.

“You know, you’d never have this kind of post-kind of conversation on the Tube in London”, I explained. “Oh we know,” replied the woman, “That’s what we do here.” It’s a lovely thing too.

Get a taste of the Philadelphia Orchestra sound in this recording of Stravinsky’s Petrushka from the early 1980s. For a taste of Yannick with the Philadelphia taking things at a rip-roaring pace, be sure to listen to the last movement of the Philadelphia’s 2023 recording of Rachamaninov’s Second Symphony.

Jon Jacob is a writer, digital content producer and strategist, authors the Thoroughly Good Classical Music Blog, and produces the Thoroughly Good Podcast.

Published post no.2,066 – Wednesday 24 January 2024