Tag Archives: classical-music

On Record – Grace Williams: The Parlour (Lyrita)

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The Parlour (1960-61)

Comic Opera in One Act (two scenes)
Libretto and music by Grace Williams, after En Famille by Guy de Maupassant

Grandmama – Edith Coates (contralto)
Papa – Edward Byles (tenor)
Mama – Noreen Berry (mezzo-soprano)
Louisa – Anne Pashley (soprano)
Augusta – Janet Hughes (soprano)
Aunt Genevieve – Jean Allister (mezzo-soprano)
Uncle Steve – David Lennox (tenor)
Doctor Charlton – John Gibbs (baritone)
Rosalie – Marian Evans (soprano)
Welsh National Opera Company, Welsh National Opera Chorus, City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra / Bryan Balkwill

Lyrita REAM.1147 [79’32”, Mono/ADD] Producer John Moody
Broadcast performance from Odeon Theatre, Llandudno on 18 August 1966

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse

What’s the story?

Lyrita continues its coverage of Grace Williams with this first commercial release of her only opera, taken from its first run by Welsh National Opera and so adding another major work to the discography of one who, almost half a century after her death, is finally receiving her due.

What’s the music like?

Although she was, by her own admission, brought up in a ‘singing tradition’ and experienced opera from an early age, it was only in 1959 that Williams was approached with a commission for one. Written to her own libretto, after the short story by Guy de Maupassant, The Parlour was completed two years later but not premiered until May 1966 – a subsequent performance being broadcast and heard here. There have since been semi-professional stagings in London (1974) and Cardiff (1993), but no further production from one of the main British companies.

Relocating this story away from Paris to an unspecified Victorian seaside town, Williams was mindful to maintain the petit-bourgeois conservatism and mendacity from that original setting. As a narrative it makes for pretty dispiriting reading, but the liveliness and wit of her libretto is rarely less than engaging, while her music hardly falters in bringing out the essence of the situation at hand. Eight out of nine singing roles get a turn in the spotlight, and though their profiles might not be sharply drawn, the interplay of characters as of voice-types is astutely managed. Orchestrally the score may lack the intensity of Williams’ other large-scale works, but its dextrousness and intricacy seem ideally suited to a domestic drama; with that pathos which frequently surfaces in her music being no less evident during the opera’s final stages.

Vocally there are strong contributions by Edith Coates as the implacable grandmother, from Edward Byles as her always put-upon son and from Noreen Berry as her perennially hapless (and luckless!) daughter-in-law. Anne Pashley and Janet Hughes become one as her witless grand-daughters, with Jean Allister and David Lennox ideally cast as her favoured daughter and her wheedling son-in-law. John Gibbs makes the most of her doctor in all his contrived bluffness or feigned disinterest, and Marian Evans chips in as the dim-witted family servant. The Welsh National Opera Company and Chorus betray occasional tentativeness, but swift-moving passages for the neighbours lack little of focus or discipline – from a time when this organization was in the process of making its transition from amateur to professional status.

Does it all work?

It does, not least owing to the excellence of this performance. WNO did not then have its own orchestra, but the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra is more than equal to the task of projecting Williams’s eventful score with the necessary clarity and verve, while it responds with alacrity to the direction of the company’s then music director Bryan Balkwill. The mono broadcast has come up more than adequately in its remastering, and this set comes with the full libretto and insightful annotations from Paul Conway in what is a typically excellent Lyrita presentation.

Is it recommended?

It is. The Parlour is unlikely to have a professional staging any time soon, making this release of more than archival interest. Could Lyrita acquire the 1963 broadcast of Daniel Jones’s The Knife, intended to be staged with the Williams in what would have been a weighty double-bill.

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Published post no.2,626 – Thursday 14 August 2025

On Record – English Symphony Orchestra / Kenneth Woods – Sibelius: Symphonies 6 & 7, Tapiola (ESO Records)

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Jean Sibelius
Symphony no.6 in D minor Op. 104 (1918-23)
Symphony no.7 in C major Op. 105 (1923-4)
Tapiola, Op, 112 (1926)

English Symphony Orchestra / Kenneth Woods

ESO Records ESO2502 [67’16”]
Producers Phil Rowlands, Michael Young Engineer Tim Burton

Recorded 1-2 March 2022 (Symphony no.6 & Tapiola); 2 May 2023 (Symphony no.7) at Wyastone Concert Hall, Monmouth

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse

What’s the story?

Good to find the English Symphony Orchestra issuing the follow-up release on its own label (after Elgar’s First Symphony and In the South), launching an ambitious project to record all seven symphonies and Tapiola by Sibelius prior to the 70th anniversary of his death in 2027.

What are the performances like?

Only if the Sixth Symphony is considered neo-classical does it feel elusive, rather than a deft reformulation of Classical precepts as here. Hence the first movement unfolds as a seamless evolution whose emotional contrasts are incidental – Kenneth Woods ensuring its purposeful course complements the circling repetitions of the following intermezzo, with its speculative variations on those almost casual opening gestures. Ideally paced, the scherzo projects a more incisive tone which the finale then pursues in a refracted sonata design that gains intensity up to its climactic mid-point. Tension drops momentarily here, quickly restored for a disarming reprise of its opening and coda whose evanescence is well conveyed; a reminder that Sibelius Six is as much about the eschewal of beginnings and endings in its seeking a new coherence.

A decisive factor in the Seventh Symphony is how its overall trajectory is sensed – the ending implicit within the beginning, as Sibelius fuses form and content with an inevitability always evident here. After an expectant if not unduly tense introduction, Woods builds the first main section with unforced eloquence to a first statement of the trombone chorale that provides the formal backbone. His transition into the ‘scherzo’ is less abrupt than many, picking up energy as the chorale’s re-emergence generates requisite momentum to sustain a relatively extended ‘intermezzo’. If his approach to the chorale’s last appearance is a little restrained, the latter’s intensity carries over into a searing string threnody that subsides into pensive uncertainty; the music gathering itself for a magisterial crescendo which does not so much end as cease to be.

Tapiola was Sibelius’s last completed major work, and one whose prefatory quatrain implies an elemental aspect rendered here through the almost total absence of transition in this music of incessant evolution. A quality to the fore in a perceptive reading where Woods secures just the right balance between formal unity and expressive diversity across its underlying course. Occasionally there seems a marginal lack of that ‘otherness’ such as endows this music with its uniquely disquieting aura, but steadily accumulating momentum is rarely in doubt on the approach to the seething climax, or a string threnody whose anguish bestows only the most tenuous of benedictions. A reminder, also, that not the least reason Sibelius may have failed to realize an ‘Eighth Symphony’ was because he had already done so with the present work.

Does it all work?

Pretty much throughout. Whether or not the cycle unfolds consistently in reverse order (with a coupling of the Fourth and Fifth Symphonies having already been announced), this opening instalment is the more pertinent for focussing on Sibelius’s last years of sustained creativity.

Is it recommended?

Indeed. The ESO is heard to advantage in the spacious ambience of Wyastone Hall, and there are detailed booklet notes by Guy Rickards. Make no mistake, these are deeply thoughtful and superbly realized performances which launch the ESO’s Sibelius cycle in impressive fashion.

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You can read more about this release and explore purchase options at the Ulysees Arts website. Click on the names to read more about the English Symphony Orchestra and conductor Kenneth Woods, and for the Ernest Bloch Society

Published post no.2,622 – Sunday 10 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

Summer music – Delius: Summer Evening

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In an attempt to reclaim summer in Western Europe, as it seems to have temporarily disappeared, here is a warm-hearted piece from Delius to take the edge off Monday evening:

Published post no.2,616 – Monday 4 August 2025

In concert – Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir / Tõnu Kaljuste @ BBC Proms: Arvo Pärt at 90

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Annika Lõhmus, Yena Choi (sopranos), Toomas Tohert (tenor), Geir Luht (bass), Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir, Kadri Toomoja (organ) / Tõnu Kaljuste

Arvo Pärt Da pacem Domine (2004/6); Veni creator (2006); Magnificat (1989); The Deer’s Cry (2007); Für Jan van Eyck (2020) (UK premiere)
Galina Grigorjeva Svyatki – ‘Spring is Coming’ (2004)
Rachmaninov All Night Vigil (Vespers) Op.37 (1915): Slava v vyshnikh Bogu; Bogoroditse Devo
J.S. Bach Motet: Ich lasse dich nicht, BWV Anh.159 (1713)
Arvo Pärt Peace upon you, Jerusalem (2002); De profundis (1980)
Tormis Curse upon Iron (1972, rev. 1991)
Arvo Pärt Vater unser (2005/11); encore: Estonian Lullaby (2002)

Royal Albert Hall, London
Thursday 31 July 2025 (late night)

Reviewed by Ben Hogwood Photos (c) BBC / Chris Christodoulou

The music of Arvo Pärt is ideal for the special atmosphere of a late-night Prom. Yet this was no ordinary concert, being a celebration of the Estonian composer’s forthcoming 90th birthday in September, given by his close friend and collaborator Tõnu Kaljuste, conducting the Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir.

This combination of performers have been mainstays of the Pärt discography, forming a celebrated partnership with the ECM label that began with the landmark Tabula Rasa album of 1984, a cornerstone for Pärt’s critical and commercial success.

Pärt is often referred to as a ‘holy minimalist’, to which the response should be that his music is not ‘wholly minimal’. The substantial orchestral works attest to that, though here we heard much slighter but equally meaningful pieces for choir, most given unaccompanied by the 25-strong Estonian ensemble. The Proms audience were commendably quiet, leaning in to appreciate both the delicacy and crystal purity of the voices. The program was well-thought, realising the expressive potential of Pärt’s music alongside that of Bach, Rachmaninov and fellow Estonians, Veljo Tormis and Galina Grigorjeva.

The solemn Da pacem Domine and open-air Veni creator made an ideal opening couplet, the choir projecting with striking clarity rather than volume. For silence, too, plays a critical role in Pärt’s music, and Kaljuste ensured the spaces between the notes were every bit as expressive.

The Magnificat revealed its hidden power, while The Deer’s Cry was perfectly phrased, Pärt’s lilting cadences casting a spell. Für Jan Van Eyck, setting the text of the Agnus Dei, found the ideal balance between the reduced choir and Royal Albert Hall organ, where Kadri Toomoja had the ideal registration. Peace Upon You, Jerusalem, for female voices, contrasted silence with brightly voiced choral statements, while the solemn De profundis, for male voices, began from a small cell, maintaining rapt concentration while punctuated by organ and percussion.

Galina Grigorjeva’s Svyatki was a beautiful meditation, led by the heavenly voice of soprano Yena Choi, her voice with a remarkable bell-like clarity. Bach’s motet, previously attributed to his son Johann Christian, was impeccably voiced and phrased, but while the two excerpts from Rachmaninov’s All-Night Vigil were arguably less successful, they reflected a familiarity with listening to big choirs perform this music, rather than the subtleties of a chamber choir. Purity proved ample compensation for volume here.

This was emphatically not the case in Curse upon Iron, a remarkable setting from Veljo Tormis, of words from the Finnish national epic, the Kalevala, translated into Estonian. Describing the horrors of war, it sends a chill down the spine right from the primal call to arms of the shaman drum, struck by Kaljuste himself, then from the restrained urgency of the choir, like a coiled spring. While listening it was impossible not to think of the current plight of Ukraine and by extension in fear for the Baltic states, especially as Tormis’ writing was brought to a horrific climax. This was realised through the elemental power of tenor Toomas Tohert, bass Geir Luht and the choir, turning from side to side with watchful dread but then erupting in barely concealed anger. It was a remarkable performance, which will live long in the memory.

After this emotionally shattering encounter, the balm of Vater unser, Pärt’s German setting of The Lord’s Prayer for Pope Benedict, was just what was needed, its simplicity all the more affecting for what went before. As an encore, Kaljuste found just the right complement in the choir and piano version of Estonian Lullaby, its pauses near the end the musical equivalent of drooping eyelids. It was a most effective end to a special concert, Arvo Pärt’s musical essence distilled for a most appreciative audience.

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

Click to read more about the BBC Proms

Published post no.2,608 – Sunday 27 July 2025