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In concert – David Cohen, London Symphony Orchestra / Sir Antonio Pappano: Vaughan Williams 9th Symphony, Elgar & Bax

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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.

For more on the 2024/25 season, visit the London Symphony Orchestra website – and for more on the artists click on the names David Cohen and Sir Antonio Pappano. Resources dedicated to the composers can be found by accessing the Vaughan Williams Society, The Elgar Society and the recently formed Sir Arnold Bax Society

Published post no.2,397 – Thursday 19 December 2024

In concert – Martin Fröst, Janine Jansen, LSO / Gianandrea Noseda: Lost and Found @ Barbican Hall

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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.

You can find more information on further 2023/24 concerts at the London Symphony Orchestra website

Published post no.2,216 – Friday 21 June 2024

In concert – Anne-Sophie Mutter, London Symphony Orchestra / Thomas Adès: Myth and Magic @ Barbican Hall

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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.

You can find more information on further 2023/24 concerts at the London Symphony Orchestra website

Published post no.2,195 – Friday 31 May 2024

In concert – London Symphony Orchestra / Sir Antonio Pappano: Richard Strauss, Coleridge-Taylor & Liszt

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Roman Simovic (violin), London Symphony Orchestra / Sir Antonio Pappano

Coleridge-Taylor Ballade in A minor Op.33 (1898)
Liszt Die Ideale S106 (1856-7)
Richard Strauss Ein Heldenleben Op. 40 (1898)

Barbican Hall, London
Sunday 12 February 2023

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse

It may have been his only concert this season with the orchestra of which he becomes Chief Conductor next year, but the rapport between Sir Antonio Pappano and the London Symphony Orchestra was audibly sustained through the whole of what proved a judiciously programmed concert.

Whether or not his Ballade (as commissioned for and premiered at a Three Choirs Festival in Gloucester) was inspired by music from a nearby street organist, Samuel Coleridge-Taylor’s work confirms the melodic fecundity and orchestral panache of his maturity. Its languorous slower episodes, framed by swifter sections of mounting energy, might not generate a more cumulative momentum, but the emotional immediacy of this piece overall is never less than appealing – certainly in a performance as vividly and precisely executed as that given tonight.

Pappano gave a memorable account of Liszt’s Eine Faust Symphonie four seasons ago, and it is good to see him exploring the mostly neglected orchestral output of this still misunderstood figure. The 12th of his symphonic poems, Die Ideale was written for the unveiling of a statue of Goethe and Schiller – a poem by the latter furnishing the conceptual basis of a piece which avoids programmatic or psychological excess for mostly lyrical and understated material; one whose deftly modified sonata design may well have been in Wagner’s mind when envisaging the symphony of the future. Pappano steered a cohesive course, building assuredly towards a triumphal if never bombastic apotheosis whose chordal writing for timpani (picked up on by Bruckner in his First Symphony nine years later) is merely its most striking musical attribute.

This conductor has made a fine recording of Richard Strauss’s Ein Heldenleben with Orchestra dell’ Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia, and a similar combination of formal clarity alongside expressive intensity was evident here. Surging forward without indulgence, The Hero found due contrast in the sniping pettiness of The Hero’s Adversaries – consummately rendered by the LSO woodwind – then leader Roman Simovic took centre-stage for an unusually focussed take on The Hero’s Companion as culminated in rapturous euphony. Pappano’s underlying tempo for The Hero at Battle was a little too headlong, though never to the detriment of its textural density in what emerged as a purposeful development of the work’s myriad motifs; heading into a powerfully wrought climax at the beginning of The Hero’s Works of Peace.

It is in this penultimate section that the work’s pivoting between tone poem and symphony is most finely drawn, and Pappano duly underlined the numerous allusions to Strauss’s earlier pieces with due awareness of their place within the intricately conceived whole. Nor was the fateful transition into The Hero’s Resignation and Fulfilment uncharacterized, making this finale a culmination of the overall design and consummation of its intrinsic content. Whether or not the evocation of domestic bliss, there could be little doubt as to the music’s sincerity.

Contrary to latter-day presumptions, moreover, there was no evidence of the work’s revised ending as somehow tacked-on to what went before – Pappano drawing a Nietzschean ‘oneness’ from those closing bars which set the seal on a persuasive reading, and a memorable concert.

You can find out more about the 2022/23 season and book tickets at the London Symphony Orchestra website. Click on the artist names for more on Sir Antonio Pappano and Roman Simovic, while you can also read more about the Samuel Coleridge-Taylor Foundation

BBC Proms #49 – Louise Alder, Dame Sarah Connolly, CBSO Chorus, London Symphony Chorus, London Symphony Orchestra / Sir Simon Rattle – Mahler ‘Resurrection’ Symphony

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Prom 49 – Louise Alder, Dame Sarah Connolly, CBSO Chorus, London Symphony Chorus, London Symphony Orchestra / Sir Simon Rattle

Birtwistle Donum Simoni MMXVIII (2018)
Mahler Symphony no.2 in C minor ‘Resurrection’ (1888-1894)

Royal Albert Hall, London
Wednesday 24 August 2022

Reviewed by Ben Hogwood Photos (c) Chris Christodoulou

“A symphony must be like the world. It must contain everything.”

The words of Gustav Mahler were never more appropriate than in the context of this exceptional BBC Proms concert, as Sir Simon Rattle and assembled forces from London and Birmingham threw body and soul into a spectacular performance of the composer’s Symphony no.2.

This, Mahler’s ‘Resurrection’ symphony, puts its listener through the emotional wringer on a journey inhabiting life and death itself. The work has become a calling card for Rattle, too – he marked the opening of Birmingham’s Symphony Hall with a memorable performance in 1991, and took his leave of the CBSO with the same piece. Here, as he prepares to step down as Music Director of the London Symphony Orchestra, he was marking the turning of a page through a move to pastures new in Bavaria, where he will become Chief Conductor of the Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks and the Bavarian Radio Chorus.

The pastures were a standout feature of this performance – but we began in turmoil, the huge first movement funeral march rumbling into gear with lines hewn from granite in the lower strings. Rattle pushes this movement forward much more than he once did, keeping a firm hand on the tiller, but with immediate and full immersion in Mahler’s thoughts. As the first movement took shape the horrors of death revealed themselves – along with hopes of sunnier climes through some beautifully shaded rustic scenes. Yet the chill winds kept returning, ultimately sweeping these away as the movement closed in their bleak acceptance.

Many accounts of the ‘Resurrection’ lose their focus at this point, but not this one. Instead we had a balletic triple time Ländler, danced with grace as the feather-light strings had their charming way. The main theme swelled like a newly budding flower, and although ghoulish reminders of the first movement persisted, this was the abiding impression. As Rattle pressed on without a break, however, the reveries were abruptly quashed by the hammer and tongs of the third movement Scherzo. Here the music twisted and turned sharply, the LSO responding to its conductor with peerless virtuosity in music of fire and brimstone. Percussion, wind and brass were superb.

Then, as the music teetered on the point of collapse, it was time to be borne away with the consoling tones of Dame Sarah Connolly (above, right). A consummate Mahlerian, she sang with compelling strength and grace, a powerful stage presence in league with Rattle, who presided over accompaniment of the greatest clarity. Connolly’s Urlicht was beautifully judged, taking us ever nearer to the wondrous entry of the choir.

Now time stood still. The audience, especially in the arena, were rooted to the spot at the massed choirs of the CBSO Chorus and London Symphony Chorus, singing as one in magically hushed tones. As the finale took shape it was by turns earth-moving and tender. Scenes flashed before the eyes, and an especially vivid episode from brass and percussion in the gallery observed a village-band intimacy. Here the Royal Albert Hall was utilised to its full potential, managing the wide scope of Mahler’s vision to perfection.

At the centre of this apocalyptic finale, percussion depicted the rising of the dead and the release of their chains, Rattle intentionally dragging his feet here to heighten the seismic impact. And then we were free, the resurrection itself met with blazing colours all around as the choirs sang Friedrich Klopstock’s text ‘Aufersteh’n, ja aufersteh’n wirst di’ (‘Rise again, yea rise again, shalt thou’) as though their lives depended on it. Was it fanciful to suggest three years’ worth of pent-up emotion being released at this point? Probably not, when you consider the day-to-day roles of the choral singers themselves – carers, key workers, parents and children alike – with all finding the time and the need to bring us this music of the utmost quality.

Great credit should go to chorus director Simon Halsey for securing such discipline and humanity in the texts, and to soprano Louise Alder (both above with Dame Sarah Connolly and Sir Simon Rattle). Alder sang above the masses with perfectly judged dynamics and phrasing, like Connolly fully aware of the scope of her role. Organist Richard Gowers added the icing on the cake, underpinning the throng with ideally judged balance.

This was a performance to talk about for years to come, a throwing-open of the doors to proclaim that music can – really – triumph over pretty much anything, the ‘Resurrection’ symphony, clearing everything in its path.

As an upbeat to the symphony we heard a short gift to Rattle from Sir Harrison Birtwistle, to whose memory the Prom was dedicated.  Donum Simoni MMXVIII was typical of its composer, a spiky and even snarky postcard firing out missives from the (superb) percussion section against barbed comments from wind and brass. Lasting barely four minutes, it served its function well – but for tonight, as Mahler would have wished, the symphony was everything.

You can listen to Sir Simon Rattle’s recording of Mahler’s ‘Resurrection’ symphony on Spotify below, where the CBSO Chorus and Symphony Orchestra are joined by soloists Arleen Auger and Dame Janet Baker: