Tag Archives: BBC Symphony Orchestra

On Record – Havergal Brian: Symphonies nos. 29 – 32 (Heritage Records)

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Havergal Brian
Symphony no.29 in E flat major (1967)
Symphony no.30 in B flat minor (1967)
Symphony no.31 (1968)
Symphony no.32 in A flat major (1968)

Philharmonia Orchestra / Myer Fredman (nos.29 & 32), Sir Charles Mackerras (no.31), BBC Symphony Orchestra / Lionel Friend (no.30)

Heritage HTGCD130 73’20”
Recorded 12 March 1979 (nos.29 & 32) and 16 March 1989 at Maida Vale Studio One, London (no.30), 9 January 1979 at Henry Wood Hall, London (no.31)

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse

What’s the story?

The enterprising Heritage label continues its coverage of Havergal Brian with this volume featuring the last four of his 32 symphonies, three of them in pioneering studio broadcasts that were organized by Robert Simpson during his last years as music producer at the BBC.

What’s the music like?

The 29th Symphony is the culmination of a classicizing tendency Brian pursued throughout the 1960s, falling into four continuous if clearly demarcated sections whose formal poise is matched by their lucidity of expression. Thus, a ruminative Lento then genial Allegretto are balanced by the rumbustious though not unduly truculent Allegros either side but it is those framing Adagio sections, launching the piece before bringing it full circle in a mood of rapt contemplation, which leave the deepest impression and so set the seal on an eloquent work.

Barely four months later, the 30th Symphony inhabits a wholly different and fractious world. Likely drawing on material for an abandoned opera on Sophocles’ Oedipus Coloneus, its two continuous parts unfold from a restive, increasingly ominous Lento into the most disjunctive of Brian’s numerous Passacaglia movements; its inherent logic countered at every stage with a visceral and even assaultive impetus prior to the suitably implacable apotheosis. Definitely a work for all times, and among a select handful of orchestral masterpieces from this period.

Five months later and the 31st Symphony emerges as among its composer’s most enigmatic statements, abetted by its single movement being the most seamless of Brian’s symphonies and the one whose key-centre is most difficult to discern. Evolving almost intuitively from casual gestures, it builds with unsparing focus towards a climax whose dynamism is thrown into relief by the inevitability of those final bars. Easy to underestimate in context, it might be considered a rule-book for Brian’s late maturity did it not break those rules at every turn.

Completed six months later, the 32nd Symphony is the longest work here – pursuing a sustained evolution across its four movements divided into two parts. Its thoughtful while not untroubled Allegretto is followed by an Adagio of keen inner strength, its seriousness of purpose subtly offset by a leisurely, often capricious scherzo then finale whose contrapuntal ingenuity underpins the determined onward course to a coda defiant in its resignation. Brian was to finish no further works, so leaving this symphony to stand as an inimitable testament.

Does it all work?

Yes, once the essence, recalcitrant but never intractable, of Brian’s symphonism in this final creative decade is grasped. It helps when performances of the 29th and 32nd were entrusted to Myer Fredman, his appreciation of Brian’s music evident elsewhere in this Heritage series, and the 31st to Sir Charles Mackerras who made a fine studio recording eight years on. The 30th is heard in a reading by Lionel Friend far more assured than its premiere by Harry Newstone, but it was not until Martyn Brabbins’s 2010 studio account that this work came into its own.

Is it recommended?

It is. The sound of the older performances has been cleaned up and opened out, much to their advantage, and that of the 30th offsets the dryness of the Maida Vale acoustic. John Pickard’s insightful booklet notes are further incentive to acquiring this welcome and necessary release.

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Published post no.2,627 – Friday 15 August 2025

In concert – Soloists, BBC Symphony Chorus & Orchestra / Hannu Lintu @ BBC Proms: Mahler Das klagende Lied & Boulez Rituel in memoriam Bruno Maderna

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Natalya Romaniw (soprano), Jennifer Johnston (mezzo-soprano), Russell Thomas (tenor), James Newby (baritone) Carlos González Nápoles (treble), Malakai Bayoh (alto), Constanza Chorus, BBC Symphony Chorus, BBC Symphony Orchestra / Hannu Lintu

Boulez Rituel in memoriam Bruno Maderna (1974-75)
Mahler Das klagende Lied (1878-80)

Royal Albert Hall, London
Tuesday 4 August 2025

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse Photos (c) BBC Proms (from the festival’s uncredited Facebook upload)

Boulez and Mahler may not seem an obvious coupling, until one recalls the would have-been centenarian regularly conducted all the latter’s major works including that heard tonight – as well having made the first recording of its original three-part version more than 55 years ago.

When it appeared in 1975, Rituel in memoriam Bruno Maderna was thought something of an anomaly in Boulez’s output – its hieratic aura and structural (if never literal) use of repetition a homage more to his teacher Messiaen than his late colleague who, revealingly perhaps, had grown disenchanted in the avant-garde project of the post-war era. To which this work might seem an envoi – one eschewing any trace of nostalgia as it pursues its inevitable course from the response of the individual to that of the collective then (almost) returning to the singular.

Outwardly Rituel unfolds a series of litanies from one to seven players and refrains for a 14-piece brass ensemble, but such distinctions increasingly merge towards its mid-point so that its latter half is an intricate mesh of overlaid textures, moving around those groups arrayed on stage. Maintaining audible balance is crucial – in which respect, Hannu Lintu succeeded admirably, as in pacing the overall sequence (memory recalls Boulez as opting for a discreet acceleration across the later stages) so its ending conveyed arrival though hardly fulfilment.

What marked a crucial juncture for Boulez was no less evident, almost a century before, for Mahler. The virtual absence of any previous music only makes Das klagende Lied the more remarkable for conveying the essence of what its composer, barely out of his teens, went on to achieve. At this time, he aspired to opera and though this cantata was never envisaged for staging, its scenic evocation and its dramatic immediacy suggest that, had he been awarded the 1881 Beethoven Prize for his entry, his creative priorities could have been very different.

The work has fared well at the Proms, this being its seventh hearing and the third to use the edition of the original version that restores the first of its three parts and enables the latter to be heard as conceived, thereby making musical as well as dramatic sense. A leisurely course through Waldmärchen enabled Lintu to highlight the motivic richness of its prelude, and if the alternation of solo verses with choral refrains felt a little stolid, the latter stages with the discovery of the flower, the fratricide and a desolate postlude were consummately rendered.

With its anticipations of later Mahler (via Wagner and Bruckner), Der Spielmann is the most characteristic part as it pivots deftly yet pointedly between genial whimsy and ominous dread. That this latter gains the upper hand with discovery of the ‘singing bone’ is offset by the blaze of glory with which Hochzeitstück begins; the offstage orchestra – head to advantage in the gallery – underpinning an increasingly desperate course of events as the fratricide is revealed and the wedding descends into mayhem, with deathly stillness pervading those final minutes.

There was some persuasive solo singing, notably Jennifer Johnston who carries the primary narrative thread; Russell Thomas was fervent if slightly strained and James Newby warmly eloquent, with Natalya Romaniw conveying real dramatic acuity. Treble and alto roles were poignantly taken, while Lintu drew an assured response from sizable choral and orchestral forces – the latter’s quartet of harps assuming a concertante role in an orchestration whose encompassing of dramatic impetus and intimate reflection is already that of Mahler alone.

Playing for around 70 minutes, Das klagende Lied seems as rich in incident as any Mahler symphony; not all of which, whatever their greater stylistic assurance or maturity, feature a conclusion as spine-tingling as this – and one which certainly drove its point across tonight.

You can listen back to this Prom concert on BBC Sounds until Sunday 12 October – or listen to recordings of the two works conducted by Pierre Boulez on Tidal here

Click on the artist names to read more about the Constanza Chorus, BBC Symphony Chorus and BBC Symphony Orchestra, conductor Hannu Lintu and soloists Natalya Romaniw, Jennifer Johnston, Russell Thomas and James Newby. Click also for more on the BBC Proms

Published post no.2,617 – Tuesday 5 August 2025

In concert – Augustin Hadelich, BBC SO / Sakari Oramo @ BBC Proms: Stravinsky, Mendelssohn, Anthony Davis & Richard Strauss

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Augustin Hadelich (violin), BBC Symphony Orchestra / Sakari Oramo

Stravinsky Le chant du rossignol (1914/17)
Mendelssohn Violin Concerto in E minor, Op. 64 (1838-44)
Anthony Davis Tales (Tails) of the Signifying Monkey (1997) [European premiere]
Richard Strauss Till Eulenspiegels lustige Streiche, Op. 28 (1894-5)

Royal Albert Hall, London
Thursday 24 July 2025

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse Photos (c) BBC / Mark Allan

Now in his second decade as chief conductor of the BBC Symphony Orchestra, Sakari Oramo can be relied on for innovative Proms programmes; tonight’s framing a staple of the concerto repertoire and an unfamiliar orchestral work with influential symphonic poems. In the case of The Song of the Nightingale, Stravinsky recycled sections from the latter two acts of his opera Le Rossignol into an illustrative sequence no less successful when heard in abstract terms. As exhilarating as are those earlier stages with their depiction of the bustling Chinese court, it is what follows – arrival of the mechanical nightingale, illness of the emperor then return of the real nightingale to restore his health – that proves most memorable. Above all, that plaintive song of the fisherman – heard on solo trumpet and rendered with due pathos by Niall Keatley.

Oramo has worked with Augustin Hadelich on numerous occasions and this evening’s account of Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto confirmed their rapport right from the outset. Not its least attraction was the deftness of orchestral response in music as wears its Romanticism with the lightest of touches, with Hadelich’s handling of the first movement’s central cadenza no less assured than Oramo’s ushering in of its reprise. The slow movement had no lack of eloquence, nor the finale of that genial humour wholly typical of its era as it headed toward its engaging close. Hadelich responded to the (rightly) enthusiastic applause with his own arrangement of Por una Cabeza – originally a song penned by Carlos Gardel and Alfredo Le Pera, and which has latterly become a favourite addition to film-scores whenever a tango element is called for.

Although he is best known for his operas, notably X: The Life and Times of Malcolm X which has enjoyed several revivals since its Philadelphia premiere four decades ago, Anthony Davis has written numerous concertos and orchestral works with Tales of the Signifying Monkey the final part of a triptych that can be played together or separately. Inspired by an African fable about how the monkey uses its innate guile to keep lions and other predatory animals at bay, this proceeds as a stealthily cumulative entity in which elements of jazz and even swing, are prominent within the stylistic mix. An aura of anticipation, frequently with an ominous tinge, is always apparent and if the outcome is at all anti-climactic, it could well another take on the maxim of travelling in hope. Certainly, the BBCSO seemed to enjoy making its acquaintance.

Usually encountered at the beginning of a concert, Richard Strauss’s Till Eulenspiegel’s Merry Pranks is no less effective (and perhaps even more so) when heard at the close. So it proved tonight with a performance which, while eschewing the uproarious humour often instilled into these increasingly scatological events, was always adept in its conveying of the music’s capricious demeanour. Composed in the wake of his ill-received first opera Guntram, the present work was a ready incentive for that orchestral virtuosity which was Strauss’s metier – above all, its climactic confrontation between its protagonist and the judiciary that results in the former’s execution. The real Till likely survived to old age, only to expire during the Black Death, but his fictional self is doubtless more appealing when characterized so judiciously as it was here.

You can listen back to this Prom concert on BBC Sounds until Sunday 12 October.

Click on the artist names to read more about Augustin Hadelich, the BBC Symphony Orchestra and their chief conductor Sakari Oramo – as well as composer Anthony Davis. Click also for more on the BBC Proms

Published post no.2,609 – Monday 28 July 2025

On Record – BBC SSO & BBC SO / Sir Andrew Davis – Naresh Sohal: The Wanderer & Asht Prahar (Heritage)

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Naresh Sohal
Asht Pradar (1965)
The Wanderer (1982)

Jane Manning (soprano), BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra (Asht Pradar), David Wilson-Johnson (baritone), BBC Symphony Chorus and Orchestra (The Wanderer) / Sir Andrew Davis

Heritage HTGCD135 [77’36”] English text included
Remastering Engineer Paul Arden-Taylor

Broadcast performance from BBC Studios, Glasgow on 6 January 1973 (Asht Pradar); live performance from Royal Albert Hall, London on 23 August 1982 (The Wanderer)

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse

What’s the story?

Heritage issues what will evidently be an ongoing series of archival releases devoted to the music of Naresh Sohal, taken from BBC sources and featuring performers who championed his work over a career whose achievement is not reflected in the availability of recordings.

What’s the music like?

Although he came belatedly to the UK, Sohal (1939-2018) rapidly made up for any lost time when arriving in London in 1962 (further biographical detail can be found in the booklet note for this release and on the composer’s website). Within three years, he had produced his first major (and latterly his first acknowledged) work. Asht Prahar then had to wait until 1970 for its premiere (at the Royal Festival Hall conducted by Norman Del Mar), but it attracted much favourable attention and led to another hearing three years on – the performance featured here.

Taking its cue from the Indian sub-division of the day into eight temporal units (four each for day and night), Asht Prahar unfolds its eight sections as an unbroken continuity. The sizable forces are, for the most part, used sparingly yet resourcefully; as too the deployment of such devices as quarter-tones, along with influences of Ravel and Stravinsky, in music that makes a virtue of its pivoting between East and West. Cyclical if not necessarily cumulative, its final and longest ‘prahar’ brings wordless soprano and orchestra into tangible and haunting accord.

By the time that The Wanderer received its premiere, Sohal had a number of major works to his credit and rationalized his musical idiom accordingly. Setting an anonymous Anglo-Saxon poem in which the male protagonist speaks movingly and often despairingly of his isolation – both physical and spiritual – after the death of his lord, the work divides into two large parts that expand on the narrative’s emotional import. Such ‘‘existential bleakness’’ is intensified by omission of the poem’s last lines with their invoking a specifically Christian consolation. Despite its more than 50-minute duration, there is nothing discursive or unfocussed about The Wanderer’s content. Much of its text is understandably allotted to the baritone, whose austere character is complemented by darkly rhetorical choral passages while offset by an orchestral component with much soloistic writing (notably for flute) in a texture the more involving for its restraint and its strategic use of colour to define specific incidents or emotional responses. Nor is this an opera-manqué, the work succeeding admirably on its inherently abstract terms.

Does it all work?

It does, allowing for the fact that Sohal is not seeking any overt fusion between Occident and Orient, but rather attempting to forge a personal idiom influenced by both while beholden to neither. Both these performances bear out his convictions, Jane Manning adding her ethereal presence to Asht Prahar and David Wilson-Johnson bringing evident compassion to his more substantial role in The Wanderer. Both works benefit from the insightful presence of the late Sir Andrew Davis, whom one regrets never had an opportunity to record them commercially.

Is it recommended?

It is. The sound of these broadcasts has come up decently in remastering, lacking only the last degree of clarity or definition, and Suddhaseel Sen contributes informative annotations. Those looking for a way into Sohal’s distinctive and alluring sound-world need no further incentive.

Listen & Buy

For purchase options, you can visit the Heritage Records website

Published post no.2,451 – Thursday 20 February 2025

In concert – Elizaveta Ivanova, BBC Symphony Orchestra / Vinay Parmeswaran @ Maida Vale: Carlos Simon, Ibert Flute Concerto & Prokofiev Seventh Symphony

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Elizaveta Ivanova (flute, below), BBC Symphony Orchestra / Vinay Parameswaran (above)

Carlos Simon Fate Now Conquers (2020)
Ibert Flute Concerto (1932-33)
Prokofiev Symphony no.7 in C# minor Op.131 (1952)

Studio 1, BBC Maida Vale Studios, London
Tuesday 4 February 2025 (2:30pm)

by Ben Hogwood Photo of Vinay Parameswaran (c) Roger Mastroianni, courtesy of The Cleveland Orchestra

For this concert linking seventh symphonies, the BBC Symphony Orchestra made their first public appearance with conductor Vinay Parmeswaran.

They began with music from Vienna via America, Carlos Simon effectively remixing the second movement of Beethoven’s Symphony no.7 and applying some fresh paint of his own. The piece was inspired by an entry Beethoven made into his journal in 1815, and takes its lead from “the beautifully fluid harmonic structure” of the symphony’s second movement, Simon composing “musical gestures that are representative of the unpredictable ways of fate”. Though Beethoven’s structure could still be glimpsed, it was viewed through music incorporating the language of Sibelius, Copland and John Adams to create a relatively familiar but ultimately thrilling orchestral vista. Simon’s development of the material was enjoyable to witness, though the sudden end felt underpowered in context. Nonetheless, here is a composer to investigate further.

Ibert’s Flute Concerto is one of the instrument’s calling cards from the 20th century, though is heard in concert rather less than it could be. Here it was performed by Elizaveta Ivanova, a flautist recently recruited to the BBC New Generation Artists programme and making her first appearance with the BBC Symphony Orchestra. She brought to the piece a welcome freshness, rising to the challenge of Ibert’s virtuoso solo part while including stylish phrasing and thoughtful dialogue with the orchestra. The graceful second movement Andante is the emotional centre of the concerto, and recalls the equivalent movement in Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G major in its beauty and softer-hearted sentiments. This was in vivid contrast to the outer movements, whose syncopations took the music closer to New York rather than Paris, Ibert’s cosmopolitan style enjoyed by the reduced BBC SO forces as much as by the athletic soloist. A fine performance, and a welcome revival for a composer whose colourful orchestral music and abundant melodies are a tonic.

Melodies, bittersweet or otherwise, are at the core of Prokofiev’s late Symphony no.7, written the year before his death. In a short interview section Parmeswaran implied the work was ‘softer’ than its predecessors, but there were no shrinking violets to be found as the second movement reached a juddering conclusion. Here Prokofiev’s attempts to write a competition winner, simultaneously pleasing Stalin, were affected by his own personal angst, for he was living in poverty at the time.

The weighty bass of the first movement and graceful cello theme of the third movement, marked Andante espressivo, were indicators of the emotional range of the symphony, but the biggest tune, heard from the full orchestra, was the second theme of the first movement, a soaring and winsome melody that returns to crown the final movement. Under Parmeswaran’s affectionate direction it was beautifully judged, though he was careful to ensure the final word in the symphony carried equal impact, the strange ticking of the percussion indicating the creeping passage of time. The symphony ended as it should, its smiling countenance compromised by a frown.

Listen

This concert was recorded for future broadcast on BBC Radio 3. A link will appear here when that becomes available.

Published post no.2,433 – Wednesday 5 February 2025