Category Archives: Small scale

In concert – Frank Dupree, Philharmonia Orchestra / Santtu-Matias Rouvali: Kapustin, Glinka, Borodin & Rimsky-Korsakov

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Frank Dupree (piano, above), Philharmonia Orchestra / Santtu-Matias Rouvali (below)

Glinka Capriccio brillante (Spanish Overture no.1 ‘Jota Aragonese’) (1845)
Kapustin Piano Concerto no.5 Op.72 (1993)
Borodin Symphony no.2 in B minor (1869 – 1876)
Rimsky-Korsakov Capriccio Espagnol Op.34 (1887)

Royal Festival Hall, London
Thursday 7 March 2024 (7.30pm)

Reviewed by Ben Hogwood Pictures (c) Raphael Steckelbach (Frank Dupree), Sisi Burn (Santtu-Matias Rouvali)

After this orchestral spectacular, I can confidently say that the Royal Festival Hall is free of cobwebs!

This most appealing program from the Philharmonia Orchestra was a cosmopolitan collection of works with roots in Russia, in the symphonic tradition (Borodin), delivering postcards from Spain (Glinka and Rimsky-Korsakov) or bringing in music from even further across the Atlantic (Kapustin).

The work with the farthest reach took top billing, thanks to the advocacy and breathtaking pianism of Frank Dupree. Making his debut with the Philharmonia, the soloist seized the opportunity to share his love of the music of Nikolai Kapustin, a composer he has championed on record in the past three years.

To call Kapustin ‘eclectic’ would be an understatement, but the label fits his unusual gift for looking outwards from classical music to jazz, boogie-woogie, Latin and even rock. To his credit none of those stylistic references sound hackneyed, and although the single-movement Piano Concerto no.5 is written out on paper it has a fresh, improvisatory quality that Dupree and the Philharmonia fair lifted off the page.

There were fun and games in this performance, harnessing elements of Gershwin, Milhaud and Shostakovich’s jazz writing, but ultimately channelling a style all of Kapustin’s own. Dupree shared the many musical jokes with the audience, while the Philharmonia percussion section – drum kit, bongos, castanets, everything but the kitchen sink! – was on hot form, Santtu-Matias Rouvali conducting with relish. The slow music explored more tender asides, evoking Harlem nights or even poolside in a hotter climate, while the fast music found Dupree exhibiting deceptive virtuosity as he navigated riffs and syncopations aplenty.

Even this wasn’t quite the highpoint, for there followed a high-spirited encore, Dupree leaning into the piano to thrum the strings in an atmospheric introduction to rhythmic high jinks, the percussion section – including Rouvali – out front to joust playfully with the soloist. It brought the house down.

With such a crowd-pleasing concerto, it was to the Philharmonia and Rouvali’s enormous credit that the rest of the program did not suffer, thanks to sparkling performances of music by three of the ‘mighty handful’ from late 19th century Russia.

Glinka’s clever interpolation of Spanish themes into his own Romantic language was brilliantly conveyed, a colourful account where Rouvali’s tempo had just the right ebb and flow. It is easy to forget this music is as old as 1845, and while the influences of Berlioz and Mendelssohn were still relatively fresh there was plenty of swagger in the dancing rhythms, the percussion again enhancing the brassy swagger of the closing pages.

Rimsky-Korsakov’s Capriccio Espagnol was even more successful, a treasure chest of melodies opened with evident enthusiasm by Rouvali, whose rapid tempo changes did occasionally leave the string section needing to make up ground. Cadenzas for violin (orchestra leader Zsolt-Tihamér Visontay), flute (Samuel Coles), clarinet (Mark van de Wiel) and harp (Heidi Krutzen) were superbly executed, Rimsky’s mini ‘concerto for orchestra’ revealed in glorious technicolour.

Rimsky wrote the Capriccio while orchestrating his friend Borodin’s opera Prince Igor – and it was his own Symphony no.2 that was in theory the most ‘sober’ of the night’s four works. We reckoned without a powerful performance from Rouvali and his charges, however, making the most of a work bursting with melodic ideas that should be heard much more often in the concert hall. The first of these ideas sets the tone for the symphony, a stern utterance with strings digging in and brass solemnly intoning their thoughts. Once heard the melody sticks in the listener’s mind, dominating the first movement where symphonic arguments were tautly exchanged.

There was room for lightness, however, in the quickfire scherzo and jubilant finale. These movements were bisected by an emotive third movement of deeper Russian origin, its theme lovingly delivered by cellos but finding plangent brass (the wonderful horn section led by Ben Hulme) and superb woodwind solos to complement. Rouvali relished the chance to dust off this relative symphonic outcast as part of a thrilling, memorable concert. The smiles on the faces of the Royal Festival Hall concertgoers as they filed into the open air said it all.

You can find more information on further concerts at the Philharmonia website

Published post no.2,112 – Saturday 8 March 2024

In concert – Philharmonia Orchestra Music of Today: Messiaen’s Quartet for the End of Time

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Mark van de Wiel (clarinet, above), Zsolt-Tihamér Visontay (violin), Karen Stephenson (cello), Tom Poster (piano)

Messiaen Quatuor pour le fin du temps (Quartet for the End of Time) (1941)

Royal Festival Hall, London
Thursday 7 March 2024 (6pm)

Reviewed by Ben Hogwood Pictures (c) Guy Wigmore (Mark van de Wiel, Zsolt-Tihamér Visontay), Marina Vidor (Karen Stephenson), Elena Urioste (Tom Poster)

The Philharmonia Orchestra’s long-running Music of Today series continued with an opportunity to experience Olivier Messiaen’s 1941 masterpiece. Given its first performance in a German prisoner-of-war camp (in what is now Zgorzelec, Poland), the Quatuor pour la fin du temps – Quartet for the End of Time – was very much a product of circumstances.

The composer, in one of his rare forays into chamber music, had just three instruments available to him, plus himself at the piano. He thrived on the restrictions, using the New Testament book of Revelation as his stimulus to create an eight-movement piece that if anything has grown in stature and relevance with every passing year.

Tonight’s venue may have been a great deal more spacious than the cramped conditions of the premiere, but the quartet here lacked nothing in close-up intimacy, the sizeable audience leaning forward in their seats to engage with the music. Initially it was the piano of Tom Poster (below) that provided a strong foundation, his spacious chords catching the chill of the dawn air in Liturgie de cristal as the other three instruments circled with attractive birdsong, the music awakening softly.

The Vocalise, pour l’Ange qui annonce la fin du temps (Vocalise, for the Angel who announces the end of time) provided a firm reality check, though here too its dramatic lines were clear and spacious rather than combative, the players continuing to find an inner serenity through Messiaen’s writing. Violinist Zsolt-Tihamér Visontay and cellist Karen Stephenson thrived on these long melodic phrases, derived from plainchant.

The emotive centre of this performance was undoubtedly the solo for clarinet, Abîme des oiseaux (Abyss of birds), an incredibly moving soliloquy played with exceptional technique by Mark van de Wiel. Some of the notes started with barely audible attack while others were at the outer limits of his volume in a performance of incredible poise and control. Standing while the other musicians sat, he also let the silences between notes speak as loudly as the phrases themselves, so that even the persistent coughing of the audience was rendered into silence.

The delicate Intermède broughout out the dance elements of Messiaen’s writing, before Stephenson (above) and Poster gave a thoughtful, meditative Louange à l’Éternité de Jésus (Praise to the eternity of Jesus), beautifully played and appropriately reverent. This ensured a vivid contrast with the following Danse de la fureur, pour les sept trompettes (Dance of fury, for the seven trumpets), where the four instruments played their angular melodies with commendable precision.

Fouillis d’arcs-en-ciel, pour l’Ange qui annonce la fin du temps (Tangle of rainbows, for the Angel who announces the end of time) found Visontay (below) to the fore in the audio balance, van de Wiel slightly backward in the mix, before Visontay and Poster led us to the end itself with a radiant Louange à l’Immortalité de Jésus (Praise to the immortality of Jesus). This remarkable piece of music continues to carry a strong impact, and as the two instruments strained at the edge of audibility, Visontay reaching the highest pitch, the sense of arrival was all-consuming.

They put the seal on a memorable performance, one of the more emotive ‘rush hour’ concerts you could wish to hear, and one whose impact was felt far beyond that evening’s orchestral concert.

You can listen to a recording of Quatuor pour le fin du temps below, with Mark van de Wiel and Zsolt-Tihamér Visontay joined by cellist Mats Lidström and pianist Min-Jung Kym on the Psalmus label:

Meanwhile you can find more information on further concerts at the Philharmonia website

Published post no.2,111 – Friday 8 March 2024

In concert – Quatuor Danel: Shostakovich & Weinberg #2 @ Wigmore Hall

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

Weinberg String Quartet no. 2 in G major Op. 3/145 (1939-40, rev. 1986)
Weinberg String Quartet no. 3 in D minor Op. 14 (1944, rev. 1987)
Shostakovich String Quartet no. 3 in F major Op. 73 (1946)

Wigmore Hall, London
Friday 12 January 2024

by Richard Whitehouse Photo (c) Marco Borggreve

Commenced anew last November, after having been abandoned in the wake of the pandemic, the Quatuor Danel’s cycle of string quartets by Shostakovich and Weinberg at Wigmore Hall continued this evening with formative works from the latter and a masterpiece by the former.

Hopefully it will not be long before Weinberg’s Second String Quartet (1940) has entered the repertoire. Written during his two years in Minsk (after having fled a Poland overrun by Nazi forces), its ‘back to basics’ outlook is evident in the initial Allegro’s textural clarity and easy lyricism, but also a compositional flair asserting itself in the movement’s tensile development and combative coda. Revision saw the Andante become a more complex and imposing entity, its fraught central section intensifying the sombre expression either side, along with an extra movement. This taciturn yet wistfully elegant Intermezzo makes for an admirable foil to the Finale, its rondo format energetically traversed through to a curtly decisive close. The Danel was palpably in command of music which transcends any apprenticeship quality with ease.

Shorter and more concentrated, Weinberg’s Third Quartet exudes an overarching emotional intensity. The Danel was mindful to observe those attacca markings such as give the overall design its unity within diversity – the uninhibited energy of the opening Presto by no means offset with the bittersweet poise of the central Andante, its taciturn unease being continued in a final Allegretto as affords only the most tenuous of closes and one which arguably feels too provisional, even in this insightful a reading. One reason, perhaps, the composer overhauled this piece when recasting it more than three decades later as his Second Chamber Symphony, when a completely new and more ‘conclusive’ finale was substituted for the original. Which is not to deny the fascination of this music from a crucial stage in his mastery of the medium.

A mastery as Shostakovich achieved with his own Third Quartet, its five movements drawing on those formal and expressive possibilities of his wartime Eighth and Ninth Symphonies, so the opening movement unfolds almost as a revisiting of that from the latter piece. The Danel undeniably had the measure of its playful capriciousness and brought out the ominous unease of the intermezzo, then headlong aggression of the scherzo which follow. Shostakovich’s first recourse to a passacaglia in his quartets, the slow movement exuded acute eloquence and this ensemble timed to perfection its cumulative approach to the finale’s searing apex. From here, the gradual dissipation of accumulated tension was palpably conveyed through to the numbed fatalism of a conclusion in which Shostakovich seems intent on bowing before the inevitable.

At this stage in the Danel’s traversal one might have expected either or both of Weinberg’s standalone Aria and Capriccio (written 1942-3) to have been given as encores. Instead, the players opted for repeating the finale from his Second Quartet, which at least provided the necessary uplift after the close of the Shostakovich. Hopefully those two pieces will be heard after the next instalment of this cycle, the Fourth Quartets of both composers being followed with the Fifth Quartet of Shostakovich: truly a ‘concert and a half’ as regards string quartets.

You can hear the music from the concert below, in recordings made by Quatuor Danel:

For more information on the next concert in the series, visit the Wigmore Hall website. You can click on the names for more on composer Mieczysław Weinberg and Quatuor Danel themselves.

Published post no.2,057 – Monday 12 January 2024

In concert – Sebastian Rochford & Kit Downes @ Kings Place

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Sebastian Rochford (drums), Kit Downes (piano)

Kings Place, London, 11 January 2024

by John Earls. Photo credit (c) John Earls

In January 2023 Sebastian Rochford (drums) and Kit Downes (piano) released A Short Diary, a profound and moving musical expression of loss for Rochford’s father, the poet and academic Gerard Rochford.

A year on, this concert consisted mainly of a performance of that album and was equally touching, not least because Rochford gave a little commentary between tunes, his voice as soft as his brush strokes and no less affecting.

Both Rochford and Downes have been involved in many different collaborations, but this is a particularly satisfying partnership. It is articulate, sensitive and compelling. It is also beautifully expressive, Downes through the keyboard and Rochford with drums and a mix of drumsticks, brushes, mallets, pedal, hands and fingers. The engagement between them and their listening to each other was something to behold.

The set opened, as does the album, with This Tune Your Ears Will Never Hear where the portentous music and heart-rending title set the tone. Communal Decisions is an astute musical illustration of competing demands with Rochford referring to the experience of balancing familial dynamics at the time of his father’s death (he has two brothers and seven sisters).

The more whimsical Love You Grampa was inspired by the notes Rochford’s niece used to leave for his father around the house. The melodic Silver Light was delicate and wistful. In a slight change of tone, the latter part of Ten of Us (remember all those brothers and sisters?) was played with an energy and passion which saw Rochford and Downes at their most animated.

The final number of the set was the only tune not composed by Rochford. Even Now I Think of Her was composed by his father, who sung it into his phone and sent it to Rochford, who passed it on to Downes’ phone for him to transcribe. It’s as endearing as the story behind it.

There were two new pieces performed. The Energy of Light, played midway in the set, is a rhythmic affair with Rochford and Downes both getting into the tempo. To the Country I Was Born was played as an encore and is a tribute to Rochford’s birthplace of Scotland – a fitting choice as this was the opening concert of Kings Place’s Scotland Unwrapped series which runs throughout the year. It was a tuneful and fitting end to this most personal of musical evenings.

John Earls is Director of Research at Unite the Union and tweets / updates his ‘X’ content at @john_earls

For more information on the album head to the ECM website – and click on the names for websites devoted to the music of Seb Rochford and Kit Downes

In concert – Janine Jansen and friends play Brahms @ Wigmore Hall

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Janine Jansen (violin), Timothy Ridout (viola), Daniel Blendulf (cello), Denis Kozhukhin (piano)

Brahms
Violin Sonata no.2 in A major Op.100 (1886)
Viola Sonata no.2 in E flat major Op.120/2 (1894)
Piano Quartet no.3 in C minor Op.60 (1855-75)

Wigmore Hall, London
Thursday 21 December 2023

Reviewed by Ben Hogwood. Photos of Janine Jansen & Timothy Ridout (c) Marco Borggreve

After the unfortunate cancellation of a concert in her series the previous week, violinist Janine Jansen and friends returned to health and to a Christmassy Wigmore Hall for another all-Brahms programme.

Jansen (above) and pianist Denis Kozhukhin (below) began with the Violin Sonata no.2, a late substitution for the first sonata but a breath of fresh air on a winter evening. One of Brahms’s best-loved chamber piece, its charming first theme has enough to weaken the hardest heart. So it was here, with Jansen’s affectionate playing. Her creamy tone was complemented by the incisive piano playing of Kozhukhin, who was deceptively relaxed in his body language but very much in tune with Brahms’s intricate rhythms and phrasing. The two excelled in the central section of the second movement, which tripped along with admirable definition of those rhythms, and in the finale, where the two enjoyed a more assertive musical dialogue.

Brahms’s last completed chamber work followed, Kozhukhin joined by violist Timothy Ridout (below) for a performance of the Viola Sonata no.2, arranged by Brahms from the clarinet original. This account exhibited elegance, poise and no little power. Ridout’s burnished tone was ideal for the music, capturing the shadowy outlines of music from a composer in his twilight years, but putting down suitably firm markers in the second movement. Ridout’s high register playing was a treat throughout, his tuning exemplary, and as the two players navigated the theme and five variations of the finale there was an ideal give and take between the part-writing. Particularly memorable was the plaintive stillness of the fourth variation, its mystery dispelled by the affirmative ending.

After the interval we heard the Piano Quartet no.3, competed in 1875 when Brahms was working on the completion of his first symphony. The two works have a good deal in common, beyond sharing the same tonality, for Brahms brings an orchestral dimension to his writing for the four instruments. This grouping needed no invitation to take up the mantle, powering through the first movement with relish, their dramatic account notable for strength of tone and unity of ensemble playing. Jansen and Ridout in particular stood out, their unisons absolutely as one, yet the real hero of the performance was Kozhukhin, elevating the heroic elements of a score closely associated with Goethe’s Werther while keeping the nervousness emanating from Brahms’s syncopated rhythms.

Lest he be forgotten, cellist Daniel Blendulf (above) delivered an understated solo of considerable beauty to begin the Andante, providing respite from the high voltage drama elsewhere but getting to the heart of Brahms’s soulful writing for the instrument. The quartet regrouped for the finale, another show of breathtaking power but with room for reverence in the chorale themes and their development. For all the bravura the air of uneasiness remained as an undercurrent, Brahms never quite at rest even when the quartet reached its emphatic conclusion. This was a truly memorable performance, capping an outstanding evening of music making for which all involved should be immensely proud.

Published post no.2,047 – Friday 22 December 2023