by Ben Hogwood Image (c) CBS Television, courtesy of Wikipedia
Last week we heard the very sad news of the loss of charismatic conductor Michael Tilson Thomas, after a long illness. You can read an obituary from Barry Millington at the Guardian website
Tilson Thomas was well-loved at all the orchestras where he held conducting positions – these included the Boston Symphony Orchestra, where he was assistant conductor in the late 1960s and early 1970s, the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra, the New World Symphony, the London Symphony Orchestra, where he was principal conductor from 1988 until 1995, and the San Francisco Symphony, who he led until 2020. With the San Francisco Symphony, Tilson Thomas delivered a high quality survey of the works of Gustav Mahler, a journey you can take on this Tidal playlist
However the playlist I have compiled for Arcana is of shorter works, designed to show off the conductor’s affinity with music of his homeland – in works as varied as John Adams’ Lollapalooza, Ruggles’ Sun Treader, Copland’s Symphonic Ode and music by Charles Ives, with whom Tilson Thomas had a special affinity. Also included is a recent remastering of Tilson Thomas at the piano, partnering Jules Eskin in Debussy’s Cello Sonata, and a recording with the London Symphony Chorus and Orchestra of Stravinsky’s Symphony of Psalms, of which this writer is particularly fond.
The playlist ends with MTT conducting the Los Angeles Philharmonic from the piano in Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue. You can listen on Tidal here
Peter Moore (trombone), London Symphony Orchestra / Ryan Bancroft
Vaughan Williams English Folk Song Suite (1923) Schuller Eine kleine Posaunenmusik (1980) [Proms premiere] Tippett Triumph (1992) [Proms premiere] Arnold arr. Johnstone English Dances Set 1 Op.27 (1950, arr. 1965) Grainger The Lads of Wamphray (1904), Country Gardens (1918, arr. 1953), Lincolnshire Posy (1937)
Royal Albert Hall, London Saturday 30 August 2025 11am
Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse Photos (c) BBC / Chris Christodoulou
His pained countenance may have adorned its programme cover but Sir Simon Rattle’s ‘routine surgery’ meant this morning’s Prom was directed by Ryan Bancroft, though the works played by woodwind and brass (and basses) of the London Symphony Orchestra remained the same.
The concert duly breezed into life with Vaughan Williams’ English Folksong Suite, heard in its original scoring for concert (i.e. – military) band such as imparts a forthright impetus to its outer marches – the former alternating brusqueness with insouciance, and the latter similarly balancing energy with geniality. In between these, the intermezzo provided welcome respite with its soulful medley. Expert as are the arrangements for orchestra by Gordon Jabob or for brass band by Frank Wright, this remains the ideal medium for an unassuming masterpiece.
It would have been remiss of the Proms not to include a piece by Gunther Schuller in the year of his centenary, with Eine Kleine Posaunenmusik being a fine choice in context. Fastidiously scored for trombone and ensemble, whose wind and brass melded into tuned percussion with notable solos from piano and harpsichord, its five succinct movements outline a succession of vignettes in which Peter Moore sounded as attuned expressively as technically. With music as distinctive as this, Schuller’s fourth appearance at these concerts will hopefully not be his last.
Surprising that Michael Tippett’s Triumph should have remained so obscure within his output. Seemingly made during work on The Rose Lake, this ‘Paraphrase on Music from The Mask of Time’ is for the greater part his arrangement of the oratorio’s sixth movement, though it could be heard as encapsulating his music over the decade from the mid-’70s. The main portion pits fractured lyricism against dissonant outbursts as befits its genesis in a setting of Shelley’s The Triumph of Life and, if the closing affirmation sounds added-on, its finality is hardly in doubt.
There could hardly have been a more pointed contrast than with Malcolm Arnold’s initial set of English Dances – its sequence of winsome, bracing, elegiac then energetic numbers ideally conveyed in Maurice Johnstone’s arrangement. Their concision was thrown into relief by the relative garrulousness of The Lads of Wamphray, an early example of Percy Grainger’s love for folksong which, in this instance, rather outstays its welcome. Rattle presumably enjoys it and Bancroft gave it its head, but its inclusion here was not warranted by its musical quality.
From the other end of Grainger’s career, his concert-band arrangement of Country Gardens exudes all the wit and irony of his later creativity. It made a canny upbeat into Lincolnshire Posy, one of a select handful of concert band masterpieces and where the LSO gave its all. Thus, the incisive Lisbon (Dublin Bay) was followed by the pathos-drenched Horkstow Grange then intricately imaginative Rufford Park Poachers; the jaunty The Brisk Young Sailor by the darkly rhetorical Lord Melbourne (very different from Britten’s elegiac take).
The surging impetus of The Lost Lady Found brought to a suitably rousing close this suite and what was a fine showcase for the LSO woodwind and brass, an unexpected if welcome appearance by Bancroft and, above all, a demonstration of the potential of the concert band.
David Cohen (cello), London Symphony Orchestra / Sir Antonio Pappano
Vaughan Willams Symphony no.9 in E minor (1956-57) Elgar Cello Concerto in E minor Op.85 (1919) Bax Tintagel (1917-19)
Barbican Hall, London Sunday 15th December 2024
Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse Picture (c) Mark Allan
Sir Antonio Pappano‘s conducting of Vaughan Williams’s Sixth Symphony in March 2020 will be recalled as almost the final live event before the descent of lockdown. Forward to the present found him tackling the composer’s Ninth Symphony under outwardly different circumstances.
Such context is significant given this work picks up where its predecessor left off, the Sixth’s fade into nothingness making possible that ominous and otherworldly beginning of the Ninth. Few conductors opt for its rapid metronome markings, but Pappano’s was an unusually broad conception of a first movement whose Moderato maestoso marking was evident throughout. Any lack of cumulative fervency was more than countered by a luminosity which permeates the music’s textures, and nowhere more so than with that lambent aura conveyed by its coda.
More an intermezzo than slow movement, the ensuing Andante sostenuto may have taken its cue from Hardy’s Tess of the D’Urbervilles but its interplay of bleakness, violence and ardour satisfies on its own terms and Pappano’s take was audibly cohesive. Nor did he misjudge the Allegro pesante of a scherzo which veers between the martial, sardonic and the ethereal with as much formal freedom as VW allows his ‘reeds’ in pointing up its expressive recalcitrance. Despite being marked Andante tranquillo, the finale is no peaceful comedown and Pappano was mindful to balance the expansively unfurling arcs of its opening half with the mounting intensity of what follows. Moreover, those three seismic ‘gestures of farewell’ summoned an emotional frisson that felt comparable to anything Vaughan Williams had previously written.
If it no longer elicits the lukewarm response as at its premiere, the Ninth Symphony remains elusive and often disquieting. Securing an impressive response from the London Symphony Orchestra, flugel horn and saxes evocatively in evidence, Pappano certainly had its measure.
A pity it was thought necessary to place this work in the first half, as following it with Elgar’s Cello Concerto felt a little anti-climactic. Not that David Cohen, securely established as LSO section-leader, was other than committed – his reading, gaining conviction as it unfolded, at its best in an Adagio of suffused eloquence then a finale that built purposefully to a soulful if not unduly emotive culmination and brusque payoff. Neither the unfocussed first movement nor a brittle scherzo hit the mark but, overall, this account was more then the sum of its parts.
Following Vaughan Williams’s and Elgar’s last major works with a middle-period one by Bax might be thought sleight-of-hand as regards programming, but the latter’s March for the 1953 Coronation would hardly have seemed apposite and Tintagel provided an undeniably rousing send-off. For all its indebtedness to Debussy, its surging Romanticism is its own justification and Pappano ensured that every aspect of this alluring (and on occasion lurid) seascape could be savoured to the fullest – not least its apotheosis then a conclusion of resplendent opulence.
Hopefully Pappano will schedule further British music in addition to continuing his Vaughan Williams cycle. Whatever else, Bax seems tailor-made for the LSO’s virtuosity such that his Second or Sixth symphonies, or another of his tone poems, would assuredly leave their mark.
Martin Fröst (clarinet), Janine Jansen (violin), London Symphony Orchestra / Gianandrea Noseda
Beethoven Leonore Overture no.3 Op.72b (1806) Beamish Distans: Concerto for violin and clarinet (UK premiere) (2023) Prokofiev Symphony no.7 in C# minor Op.131 (1952)
Barbican Hall, London Thursday 20 June 2024
Reviewed by Ben Hogwood Pictures (c) Mark Allan
The London Symphony Orchestra and their principal guest conductor Gianandrea Noseda continued their Prokofiev symphony cycle with the elusive Seventh, prefaced by one of Beethoven’s four operatic overtures and a finally realised UK premiere.
This was Distans, a co-commission between four orchestras for Sally Beamish to write a concerto for the unusual combination of clarinet and violin. Its first performance was delayed due to the pandemic, which became the inspiration for the content of the work. Themes of separation run through the three movements, drawing on the composer’s Swedish and Scottish connections. Separated from her children during lockdown, Beamish also used the forceful musical personalities of soloists Martin Fröst and Janine Jansen (both above) for inspiration.
The two began offstage, however, beckoning to each other across the Barbican Hall as Calling, the first movement, took shape. This was named in the concert notes as ‘kulning’, “the high-pitched singing of women calling the calls on remote pastures”. Beamish’s wide-angle musical lens produced an effective and touching first paragraph, the soloists eventually united on stage in music of the dance, evoking a Swedish fiddle with the full weight and energy of the orchestra in support.
Echoing, the slow second movement, explored more intense feelings of isolation through beautiful scoring, earthy cellos and metallic percussion casting a rarefied light suggesting a Swedish winter. The third movement, Journeying, was powered by an ancient march, the soloists together in spirit and melody, out in the elements with the orchestra. Although the music of beckoning reappeared, the mood was one of reunification, the soloists now at peace and content to remain on stage.
Distans made a strong impact in the hall, and Beamish’s writing for clarinet in her first major piece for the instrument made the most of Martin Fröst’s extraordinary breath control and agility. Jansen also fully inhabited the spirit of the piece, though her part often felt within that of the clarinet, and rarely used the high register. This was definitely a work to hear again, for Beamish’s sound world is a very attractive one in concert.
After the interval, Prokofiev’s Seventh Symphony was given an affectionate performance, yet one that also found the darkness lurking within. One of Prokofiev’s final works, the Seventh was written for the Soviet Children’s Radio Division, and as a result adopts a youthful stance, with commendably little room for nostalgia. Instead the composer gets up to his characteristically witty tricks, with inventive scoring enjoyed by the orchestra as woodwind doubled in octaves, and the piano and harp supplemented lower strings.
The music danced, a reminder of Prokofiev’s balletic qualities. The second movement Allegretto had poise in its first tune but a heavier swagger in the second, suggesting the unpredictable movements of older age – though an impressively powerful and assured close was reached. The following Andante enjoyed rich string colours, together with brilliant individual characterisations from oboe (Juliana Koch) and cor anglais (Clément Noël).
Yet the abiding memories came from two themes used in the outer movements. The first, a sweeping unison for orchestra, lovingly recreates the key and spirit of the composer’s first piano concerto, one of his greatest early successes – and was delivered with great charm here. The second, a cautionary motif from flute and glockenspiel resembling a ticking clock, returned like a regretful memory at the end – reminding this listener of an equivalent moment in Shostakovich’s last symphony, completed nearly 20 years later. It ended this performance on a thoughtful note, in spite of the exuberance that had gone before. The LSO were excellent throughout, presenting a convincing case for the Seventh as a bittersweet triumph, and reminding us in the process of Prokofiev’s abundance as a melodic composer.
Meanwhile Beethoven’s Leonore Overture no.3 began in a more desperate mood of resignation, the opera’s main character Florestan losing all hope in prison. Noseda – fresh from recording a symphony cycle with the National Symphony Orchestra in Washington – has very strong Beethovenian instincts, and paced this just right, with an appropriate hush falling over the hall. As the drama heightened, and an evocative offstage trumpet beckoned, the release from prison led to an outpouring of joy, sweeping us up in its forward momentum. The players were off the leash, enjoying every second.
Anne-Sophie Mutter (violin), London Symphony Orchestra / Thomas Adès
Stravinsky Orpheus (1947) Lutosławski Partita (for Violin and Orchestra) (1988) Adès Air – Homage to Sibelius (Violin Concerto) (UK premiere) (2021-22) Stravinsky Agon (1953-57)
Barbican Hall, London Thursday 31 May 2024
Reviewed by Ben Hogwood Pictures (c) Mark Allan
This rewarding concert featured the imaginative programming of four works looking simultaneously backwards and forwards, with two great Stravinsky ballets framing shorter works for violin and orchestra.
Anne-Sophie Mutter (below) has forged a pioneering path for contemporary music throughout her career, and added another dedication to an illustrious list that includes Lutosławski, Penderecki, Sir André Previn and Unsuk Chin. Air – Homage to Sibelius was written in the light of her admiration for Adès’ Concentric Paths, his Violin Concerto of 2005. It is a very different work indeed, an extended meditation based on a single melody written in the slow days of lockdown in 2021. In the execution Adès brought his music unexpectedly close to that of John Tavener or Arvo Pärt, the latter’s Cantus in memoriam Benjamin Britten recalled by the solemnly descending melody. Beginning on high with the orchestral violins, this was soon joined by Mutter’s silky-smooth tones. Now the piece developed with the soloist in charge, its serene progress tinged with longing. With no brass in the orchestra the textures were light, with tuned gongs suggesting a soft breeze, before the music gained weight on the gradual descent as though nearing the bottom of a mountain. The Sibelius homage could be determined in the line and structure of the piece, and also the rarefied light that it cast adrift.
Before the interval we heard Lutosławski’s Partita, written initially for violin and piano in 1984 but orchestrated for Mutter four years later. The word ‘partita’ is interpreted by Lutosławski in its 18th century form, and this work begins with a stern Allegro giusto that comes adrift when the soloist starts to use portamento, the melody travelling through microtones. Mutter’s control here was masterful, yet the feeling of dislocation was compounded. The central Largo was powerful indeed, the violin singing a darker song, before the closing Presto brought a terrific burst of energy, the colourful orchestration prompting and cajoling. Mutter’s voice, though, spoke the loudest.
The concert had begun with a relatively rare live account of Orpheus, the second of Stravinsky’s three Greek ballets. Thomas Adès directed a compelling performance of a work whose dynamic levels remain quiet for almost the entire half hour – yet contain music of acute description and poignancy. There is dread too, which Adès brought out in the scenes where Orpheus is surrounded by the Furies, then where he met his untimely demise at the hands of the Bacchantes. With the harp of Bryn Lewis treading a solitary, elegant line, Orpheus’ lyre remained as a ghostly presence right through to the end – in spite of the efforts of the Angel of Death, brilliantly voiced by violinist and orchestra leader Benjamin Gilmore.
The concert finished with the remarkable Agon, with which Stravinsky completed his Greek trilogy and indeed entire ballet output when premiered in New York in 1957. Even in his mid-70s the composer was pushing boundaries, this time in the direction of Schoenberg’s serial technique, without compromising his dramatic instincts. With no plot, Agon is essentially a celebration of movement, Stravinsky free to explore old dance forms through the prism of twentieth century harmony and melody, with remarkably imaginative instrumentation. This performance fully revealed its genius, the Renaissance and Baroque dances given a new lease of life with orchestration turned on its head. The colours were enhanced by mandolin (Huw Davies), harp (Bryn Lewis) and percussion (Neil Percy and Tom Edwards), not to mention the superb LSO brass, wind and string sections. Double basses got in on the act, playing high in the register, the weird and wonderful sounds given gruff harmonies and comedic punctuation as the ballet unfolded. Light and shade were exquisitely explored, the advantage of having a composer-conductor such as Thomas Adès at the helm meaning no stone was left unturned. This was a memorable interpretation, capping a wholly stimulating evening of music making.
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