Category Archives: In concert

In concert – Laura van der Heijden, CBSO / Richard Egarr: Bach, Haydn & Schumann

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Laura van der Heijden (cello, above), City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra / Richard Egarr (harpsichord)

J.S. Bach Orchestral Suite no.3 in D major BWV1068 (1730)
Haydn Cello Concerto in D major Hob.VIIb/2 (1784)
J.S. Bach Fuga a tre sogetti BWV1080 no.19 (1748-9)
Schumann Symphony no.2 in C major Op.61 (1845-6)

Symphony Hall, Birmingham
Tuesday 14 November 2023

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse

The City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra has put on smaller-scale concerts over several seasons, and tonight’s wide-ranging programme saw the players being conducted or directed – and frequently at the same time – by the personable and always enthusiastic Richard Egarr.

Egarr and Laura van der Heijden ensured Haydn’s Cello Concerto in D remained unaffected by that understatement, bordering on somnolence, which so often used to characterize it in performance. Although a staple of its repertoire from the outset, it was only discovery of its autograph in 1951 that confirmed it as by Haydn rather than Anton Kraft who had reworked the solo part extensively. Here the initial Allegro had a vibrancy that never wavered, and if Van der Heijden’s tone was not always flattering, the impetus instilled into its development and cadenza (by Colin Matthews?) ensured this movement’s vivid projection. The brief yet eloquent Adagio was enticingly rendered, while the final Rondo had an agility maintained from the first appearance of its indelible theme through to the buoyancy of its closing bars.

Egarr had opened proceedings with Bach’s Third Orchestral Suite, welcome not least because this composer’s orchestral works (other than his Violin Concertos) are seldom encountered at ‘mainstream’ concerts these days. Although its Aria (Air on the G string) – rendered so that its pathos never cloyed – will always be its chief attraction, the Ouverture had grandeur and energy redolent of Handel, then the alternate Gavotte movements evinced a genial humour to which the boisterous Gigue with its clarion-like trumpet writing made an admirable foil. After the interval, an unexpected but absorbing take on the final and unfinished fugue from Bach’s The Art of Fugue. Once more speculated on than actually heard, Contrapunctus XIV remains a fete of technical and imaginative dexterity arguably intensified by its breaking off just after the appearance of the B-A-C-H motif. Whether abandoned from failing eyesight or for reasons of intellectual game-playing, its fascination remains endless and, as heard in this lucid if dour transcription for strings, its fusing of the visceral with the arcane is not in doubt.

Richard Egarr Photo: Marco Borggreve

Not an inappropriate entrée, moreover, to Schumann’s Second Symphony: formally the most rigorous of this composer’s cycle, and one whose historical or aesthetic lineage is evident at every level. Egarr ensured the first movement’s lengthy introduction, pensive yet expectant, led seamlessly into a main Allegro whose momentum carried through to a propulsive close; then into a Scherzo whose pivoting between the agitated and whimsical was not resolved by its headlong coda – superbly articulated here. Nor was there any lack of emotional gravitas in the Adagio, surely among Schumann’s most potent creations, though Egarr’s not always tacit encouragement of applause between movements rather undermined the expectancy of a coda being fulfilled by the final Allegro as this sets out on its joyous while always eventful course.

Just on occasion the inevitability of that course seemed to lose focus, most likely as Egarr’s concept of ‘authenticity’ tended to impede more seamless formal cohesion – but, as the piece headed to its close, a sense of affirmation in the face of daunting odds could hardly be denied.

You can read all about the 2023/24 season and book tickets at the CBSO website. Click on the artist names for more information on cellist Laura van der Heijden and conductor / harpsichordist Richard Egarr

Published post no.1,998 – Friday 3 November 2023

In concert – Quatuor Danel: Shostakovich & Weinberg @ Wigmore Hall

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Quatuor Danel [Marc Danel & Gilles Millet (violins), Vlad Bogdanas (viola), Yovan Markovitch (cello)]

Shostakovich String Quartet no.1 in C major Op.49 (1938)
Weinberg String Quartet no.1 in C major Op.2/141 (1937, rev. 1985)
Shostakovich String Quartet no.2 in A major Op.68 (1944)

Wigmore Hall, London
Monday 13 November 2023

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse. Photo (c) Marco Broggreve

No-one could accuse the Quatuor Danel of bowing to circumstance. Having had to abandon its cycle of the combined Shostakovich and Weinberg string quartets some three-and-a-half years ago owing to the COVID pandemic, the ensemble has commendably started again and from scratch. Tonight accordingly saw the first instalment in this survey of 32 quartets, with an evening such as traced the beginnings of what promises to be an enterprising and, above all, rewarding series of recitals from musicians with a palpable empathy for both composers.

A more unassuming start could scarcely be imagined than with Shostakovich‘s First Quartet. Not only did the composer leave it relatively late until tackling this genre, but the result is as understated a debut as could be imagined. Perhaps in its trying to up the emotional ‘ante’, the Danel sacrificed some of the opening movement’s wistful elegance, but the ensuing variations on a Mussorgskian melody were ideally poised, with the quicksilver scherzo and rumbustious finale reinforcing the infectious charm as well as technical mastery of this ingratiating debut.

The most obvious criticism of Weinberg’s First Quartet is that it bears little resemblance with what was to follow. Yet given its indebtedness to Bartók and Szymanowski, the initial Allegro pursues its doggedly eventful course through some torturous chromatic harmonies and dense textures, while the central Andante evokes a tense and even ominous atmosphere enhanced by its being muted throughout. Only with the final Allegro does the future composer come to the fore, its driving rhythms and folk inflections as Weinbergian as is the teasing evanescence of those closing bars. Now that Daniel Elphick’s reconstruction of the original version has been performed publicly, the revision is more clearly one of ‘less is more’ afforded by hindsight – which does not make this teenage effort, or the Danel’s rendering of it, any less impressive.

As the last in a sequence of large-scale chamber works, Shostakovich’s Second Quartet has tended to be overshadowed by his Piano Quintet and Second Piano Trio, but that it does not want for stature was underlined by the Danel’s reading. The fervent while formally lop-sided Overture responded audibly to this trenchant and forthright approach, its modally inflected plangency carried through to the Recitative and Romance in which Marc Danel‘s impulsive take on those florid first violin solos was ably complemented by the fraught interplay toward its climax. Nor was there any lack of purpose in the Waltz and its ominous revisiting of the composer’s past, before the closing Theme with Variations evinced inexorable momentum on route to an implacable restatement of that theme for a warning pure though hardly simple.

Given such music and music-making it might have been churlish to expect an encore, yet the Danel duly provided an additional few minutes in the guise of an Improvisation and Rondo Weinberg wrote around 1950 but which was only premiered 69 years later. More is the pity, as the former proved as affecting as the latter was appealing in melodic directness. January 12th sees the second instalment, with Shostakovich’s Third preceded by Weinberg’s Second and Third Quartets, of a series which one fervently hopes will now run its intended course.

You can read all about the next concert in the series at the Wigmore Hall website – and click on the name to read more about Quatuor Danel.

Published post no.2,011 – Thursday 16 November 2023

In concert – Ilya Gringolts, BBC Symphony Orchestra / Roderick Cox: Debussy, Wennäkoski, Lyatoshinksky & Stravinsky

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Ilya Gringolts (violin), BBC Symphony Orchestra / Roderick Cox

Debussy Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune (1891-4)
Wennäkoski Prosoidia (BBC co-commission: world premiere)
Lyatoshinsky Grazhyna
Stravinsky The Firebird – suite (1919)

Barbican Hall, London
Friday 3 November 2023

Reviewed by Ben Hogwood. Pictures courtesy of BBC/Mark Allan

If the number of concertgoers whistling the Finale of Stravinsky’s Firebird down Silk Street to the tube was anything to go by, this typically creative BBC Symphony Orchestra program had made its mark.

This was in spite of a late change of conductor, Roderick Cox replacing the indisposed Eva Ollikainen – yet the transition was seamless, Cox an alert and subtly commanding presence who clearly enjoyed making music with his new charges. All those qualities were evident in a hazy, sensuous account of Debussy’s Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune, the temperature raised in spite of the autumnal weather outside. This is, as Paul Griffiths observed in the booklet notes, where Debussy’s ‘music begins here afresh. So does modern music generally.’ Daniel Pailthorpe’s flute solo set the tone, the BBC Symphony Orchestra revelling in alluring wind melodies and hazy, soft-focus strings. The sense of the new – even 120 years after completion – was tangible throughout.

Lotta Wennäkoski’s Prosoidia was also new – still drying on the page in fact, as this was the world premiere of a co-commission from the BBC SO, Lahti SO and Norrlands Opera for violin and orchestra. Though not billed in the title as a violin concerto it assumed that function, though Ilya Gringolts (above) moved between his own solo statements and conversations as part of the orchestra. Throughout he showed impeccable technique and great expression. The orchestra’s role was headed by percussion and harp, with some exquisite shading especially in the quiet music. How refreshing to hear a composer confidently writing music that the audience strained to hear, the resultant effect all the more powerful for this restraint. Here Wennäkoski was reflecting linguistic instructions inspired by ‘prosody’ – the word referring to the musical properties of speech: rhythm, pitch, stress and pauses. Her focus gave the work a moving humanity, a concerto where wordless instrumental voices spoke with great intensity.

The second movement, Word Stress, had a primal savagery, the orchestral voices clamouring to be heard and on occasion drowning the violin. Here the influence of Bartók was palpable, Wennäkoski drawing perhaps on her studies in Budapest. A moving third movement followed, inspired by Ingmar Bergman’s film Cries and Whispers – and in particular a scene where the voices are replaced by the Sarabande from Bach’s Cello Suite no.5. Written in memory of the recently departed Kaija Saariaho, Wennäkoski’s teacher, it was an intimate discourse, recalling the equivalent passage in Berg’s Violin Concerto where the composer also quotes from Bach. Here the approach was less explicit but formed an engaging tableau, where the dynamic dimmed and textures became spare at the thoughtful close. A concerto with an appealing economy and frank musical language, Prosoidia deserves a regular place in the repertoire.

After the interval we heard music from Boris Lyatoshinsky, described in Martin Anderson’s composer profile as ‘the first explicitly Ukrainian composer of the modern age’. Grazhyna, a symphonic poem about a fictitious 15th century female Lithuanian chieftain, cast its eyes back to Liszt and Saint-Saëns in its orchestral narrative, but the modern harmonic language of 1955 spoke more of Myaskovsky and Shostakovich’s music for the stage, not to mention the lasting influence of Lyatoshinsky’s teacher Glière. Roderick Cox presided over a convincing interpretation, impressively grasping the piece in spite of what was surely limited preparation. From the brooding violas portraying the River Neman, we heard a plangent cor anglais lament from Max Spiers, then a high voltage tutti as the battle scene raged. Though short on distinctive melodies, Grazhyna was dramatic to the last as the river music returned, capping an atmospheric and compelling account.

This was also the case for Stravinsky’s 1919 suite from The Firebird, fashioned by the composer into a crowd-pleasing five movements, and creeping in stealthily on the lowest strings. This was an assured interpretation, Cox cajoling the well-drilled BBC SO through a thrilling Infernal Dance, having enjoyed the vivid colours of The Princesses’ Round Dance. The bassoon of Andrea de Flammineis excelled in the Berceuse, where Stravinsky’s ‘sweet and sour’ melodies were in evidence, before the bold as brass Finale that sent the audience home whistling. This was an impressive concert all round, showing the strength in depth the BBC Symphony Orchestra possess these days. Their ensemble, a winning combination of experience and raw talent, is enjoying a purple patch.

You can listen to this concert on BBC Sounds – and read all about the 2023/24 season and book tickets at the BBC Symphony Orchestra website. Click on the artist names for more on violinist Ilya Gringolts and conductor Roderick Cox, and for more on composer Lotta Wennäkoski

Published post no.1,999 – Saturday 4 November 2023

In concert – Carolin Widmann, CBSO / Nicholas Carter: Haydn, Ligeti & Brahms

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Carolin Widmann (violin, below), City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra / Nicholas Carter

Haydn Symphony no.96 in D major Hob.1/96 ‘Miracle’ (1791)
Ligeti Violin Concerto (1989-93)
Brahms Symphony no.3 in F major Op.90 (1883)

Symphony Hall, Birmingham
Wednesday 1 November 2023

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse

Tonight’s concert by the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra saw a collaboration with the well-regarded Nicholas Carter – former chief conductor of the Adelaide Symphony, now holding that position with Bühnen Bern alongside guest appearances in Europe and the US.

Few conductors would nowadays begin a programme with a Haydn symphony, and Carter’s take on no.96 did not lack for conviction. The Miracle of a falling if harmless chandelier may have taken place at the premiere of no.102 but does not lessen the quality of this work, its slyly portentous Adagio introducing an Allegro whose motivic unity is most evident in a tensile development and agile coda. With felicitous writing for oboe (rendered so by Helena Mackie) and violin (a welcome ‘guest lead’ from Zoë Beyers), the Andante is the highlight – Carter making the most of antiphonal violins where the gains in clarity or incisiveness were never in doubt. Steady but with a lilting grace then a piquant trio, the Minuetto was a perfect foil to the final Vivace – its energetic interplay duly capped by a coda of uninhibited verve.

Good that the CBSO marked György Ligeti’s centenary with his Violin Concerto, combining the composer’s love of polyrhythms and varied tunings with a heady recall of his Hungarian heritage. No stranger to this piece, Carolin Widmann emphasized the teasing reticence of its Praeludium and found aching nostalgia in the folk inflections of its Aria-Hoquetus-Choral. The coruscating build-up of its Intermezzo and finely wrought intensity of its Passacaglia were well judged, Carter bringing out the strangeness of orchestral writing with its extremes of register and an array of unorthodox instruments. The final Appassionato was trenchantly done, and while Widmann’s overly matter-of-fact cadenza robbed the closing ensemble bars of their barbed humour, it proved a small blemish on this otherwise captivating performance.

Brahms’ Third Symphony has done well by the CBSO in recent seasons, and Carter’s reading was no exception. Any hint of stolidity at the outset of the initial Allegro had gone during the exposition’s repeat, then the development accrued a momentum such as carried through to the end of this movement. The coda’s transfigured poise (Brahms’ riposte to Tristan?) was no less evident in the Andante, its melodic simplicity belying an emotional ambiguity as was implied by its ruminative asides before suddenly being made explicit during the confiding final pages.

The Poco allegretto was (rightly) taken not as an extra slow movement, rather an intermezzo of a pathos which was accentuated by its deft forward motion. The final Allegro then brought a culmination in all respects – Carter alive to its stark contrasts between the speculative and the combative, with a thrilling transition into the reprise then a coda that recalled the work’s defining motto with mingled aspiration and benediction on its way to an ending of perfectly judged repose. Never the easiest symphony to bring off, this was a Brahms Three to savour.

Carter will hopefully be working with this orchestra again soon. Next Wednesday’s concert brings Cristian Macelaru in a programme with Sibelius and Mendelssohn, while Thursday’s Centre Stage recital has a welcome revival of the Clarinet Quintet by Elizabeth Maconchy.

You can read all about the 2023/24 season and book tickets at the CBSO website. Click on the artist names for more information on violinist Carolin Widmann and conductor Nicholas Carter, and for more about composer György Ligeti

Published post no.1,998 – Friday 3 November 2023

In concert – Brian Eno & Baltic Sea Philharmonic @ Royal Festival Hall

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Brian Eno (vocals, instruments), Melanie Pappenheim (vocals), Leo Abrahams (guitar), Peter Chilvers (instruments, software), Peter Serafinowicz (vocals), Baltic Sea Philharmonic Orchestra / Kristjan Järvi

Brian Eno
The Ship [The Ship, Fickle Sun (I), Fickle Sun (II) The Hour Is Thin, Fickle Sun (III) I’m Set Free]
By This River, Who Gives A Thought, And Then So Clear, Bone Bomb, Making Gardens Out Of Silence, There Were Bells

Royal Festival Hall
Monday 30 October (9 pm concert)

by Ben Hogwood photos (c) Ben Hogwood, not to be reproduced without permission

The estimable Setlist website, documenting the concert history of artists and bands, has a notable seven-year gap between Brian Eno’s last live appearances and this new tour, in which he has been bringing an orchestral perspective to his 2016 album The Ship.

Many artists in Eno’s ambient sphere have looked at the orchestra as a vehicle for original composition, but more recently the tendency has been for artists to use it to regenerate past material, and – perish the thought – boost awareness and bank balance by association through touring. This tactic is clearly not for Eno, who invested a great deal of time in finding the right ensemble before even looking at the layout of this tour. Seeking fresh talent and players with flexibility, he alighted on the Baltic Sea Philharmonic Orchestra, a ten-year-old ensemble conducted by the dynamic Kristjan Järvi. It is fascinating to think that Kristjan, part of a remarkable Estonian conducting trio after father Neeme and elder brother Paavo, is creating new directions for his family, stepping out on ever more adventurous voyages into contemporary music.

This one – on the banks of the Thames – takes its lead from the most famous voyage of the 20th century, the Titanic. Yet Eno chooses not to tell the story in graphic detail, portraying the ship instead through shades of orchestration, atmospheric noise and folk-like utterances. These are made through his own sonorous tones, which worked in this concert to vivid effect. The sonic picture was surely aided by the inclement weather in the UK, the audience becoming part of the vessel as the sea spray splashed against the side. Meanwhile the creaks of the orchestra’s wooden instruments portrayed the boat’s natural bowing and bending.

Eno’s music for The Ship reflects his ambient work, in which the music makes incremental changes in its own sweet time, but it shows how ambient music can also be loud. As time progressed this performance assumed a dramatic intensity way above that of the home listening experience. The orchestra’s control was a key aspect, with Järvi ensuring the musicians had as much freedom as they wanted. He walked around the stage to cajole individual players or sections, then faced the audience as though looking out to sea himself. Dressed in colour-co-ordinated t-shirts, the players could see each other and their conductor in the dark – not to mention the cerise shirt of Eno, a point of vivid colour in the middle.

Eno’s vocal was complemented by the understated yet versatile voice of Melanie Pappenheim, and the thoughtful input of guitarist Leo Abrahams and keyboard player / software designer Peter Chilvers. Also present was the actor and comedian Peter Serafinowicz, reading a monologue on war through rich bass tones.

The Ship, a three-movement suite, had at its heart Fickle Sun, itself in three parts. Here the onward motion of the orchestra was irresistible, still moving slowly like the Titanic but flattening everything in its path. Then, the struggle over, Eno reached for the Velvet Underground cover I’m Set Free, its heart-shifting chord progression nudging at the emotions with every repetition, providing an tidal swell for the audience.

This performance was a triumph of spirit and resolve, a warming combination in these troubled times. The encores continued in the same vein, though the deeply uncomfortable Bone Bomb, from 2005 album Another Day On Earth, provided painful relevance with its response to an article on a suicide bomber in Palestine. Eno paused the music after this to give his own unstinting views on the conflict with Israel, declaring proceeds from the Ships gigs would go to help those suffering from the war in Gaza.

Of the other encore items Making Gardens Out Of Silence, from last year’s ForeverAndEverNoMore, reached a more obvious inner peace, before There Were Bells, found Eno’s music once again reaching beyond the ambient to find notes of sustainable emotional power. Equal strength was found in By This River, the earliest music of the night (from 1977), and the track that stayed with the audience long after the concert had finished.

At the end Eno and Järvi generously credited the band and orchestral musicians, looking beyond to single out those responsible for monitoring and lighting, two crucial overlooked b but crucial elements of any performance. The lighting was wholly suitable, the relative darkness allowing the audience to use their mind’s eye in response to Eno’s resolute constructions. Thus was a memorable evening, and one in which the main man himself was also deeply moved.