Today is known as Blue Monday, the day where New Year’s resolutions have traditionally worn off…and people have had enough of January. It happens also to be the name of one of the best electronic music songs ever made…so it seems right to make it the launch day for Our Friends Electric!
This will be Arcana’s celebration of electronic music in all its forms, where I will be listening to and writing about electronic music across the spectrum. It will be an expedition from early ventures in the 1920s to the most recent tracks from present day technology. Along the way there will be interviews, playlists, thoughts and music – so much music.
Lev Termen demonstrating the theremin, December 1927 by Bettmann, Corbis
It would be great to think we could cover all the electronic music there is, but that’s clearly impossible – so the focus will be on key works and albums, listening chronologically from early on in the 20th century. We will move from Varèse to Kraftwerk, from Delia Derbyshire to Kelly Lee Owens, taking in classical and pop pioneers side by side. We will also moving off-piste here and there, to take in all manner of successful – and failed – experiments with early computer music. There will be interviews, too!
To start, I plan to take a look at the music of Erik Satie and his influence, a composer who opened his mind to using mechanics and technology in music, and who looked to embrace new inventions. I will try to do the same.
My perspective is a Western one, so viewpoints from across the globe will be especially welcome. Please do contribute as much as you would like, from listening along on the playlists provided, to commenting on the findings and sharing in the delights we uncover. It promises to be a huge amount of fun.
So let’s switch on, power up and get listening!
Ben Hogwood, editor Arcana.fm
P.S.…for those of you following the Beethoven project – thank you! – I can promise you it hasn’t been cancelled but will resume in the composer’s ‘other’ anniversary year, 2027.
J.S. Bach Art of Fugue BWV1080: Contrapunctus 1, 4, 6 & 9 (1742, rev.1748-9) Turina La oración del torero Op.34 (1925) Shostakovich String Quartet no.3 in F major Op.73 (1946)
Wigmore Hall, London Monday 12 January 2026, 1pm
Reviewed by Ben Hogwood
Cuarteto Casals began this BBC Radio 3 Lunchtime Concert with a quartet of movements from The Art of Fugue, Johann Sebastian Bach’s four-part masterpiece of musical counterpoint. The collection has that rare quality of being able to combine technical prowess and emotional substance, and these were evident right from the outset. Initially plaintive, Contrapunctus 1 grew in scope and stature, though while three of the quartet opted against vibrato cellist Arnau Tomàs did not, meaning his instrument was more rounded in tone. A convincing Contrapunctus 4 featured lively exchanges, while Contrapunctus 6 enjoyed the dotted rhythms redolent of a French ‘ouverture’. Finally Contrapunctus 9 was a light-footed dance, its slower theme commendably clear towards the end.
Vera Martínez-Mehner then swapped with Abel Tomàs to assume first violin duties for Joaquin Turina’s chamber tone poem La oración del torero. This vivid account of bullfighters praying for their lives before a fiesta was written in the wake of a scene witnessed by the composer, observng the toreadors ‘backstage’ in the chapel. Martínez-Mehner and Cristina Cordero Beltrán, perhaps unwittingly, were ironically clad in red for a performance that turned up the temperature a good 20 degrees inside the Wigmore Hall. Their highly descriptive account featured castanet evocations that were on point and searching solos that led to a radiant concluding section. Turina’s chamber music is rarely heard in the concert hall, and while this performance revealed a healthy debt to Debussy’s string quartet in particular, it showed off an attractive melodic style. On this evidence it would be rewarding to hear the composer’s string quartets and piano-based chamber music much more frequently.
The temperature cooled notably for the Shostakovich, though here again the quartet were able to use the extremes of their dynamic range. With the String Quartet no.3 closely attuned to the end of the Second World War, it was difficult not to think of telling parallels with the current situation in Russia and Ukraine, evident on every page. The songful melody of Martínez-Mehner’s opening tune cast initial warmth, but this soon dissipated, the quartet’s confidential asides drawing a notably hushed response from the Wigmore Hall audience.
Parallels with Shostakovich’s Eighth Symphony, completed just three years earlier, were revealed – the heavy-set viola tread of the second movement recalling its scherzo, while the solemn fourth movement Passacaglia, placed as in the symphony, found an equivalent emptiness, nowhere more so than in the stricken unison from viola and cello towards the end.
Yet there was hope, as the questioning finale struck a more positive tone in spite of heavy irony, and a cold dread as the Passacaglia music reappeared. The music hung in a still suspension through the coda, in only the way Shostakovich can, revealing answers that were hard to come by while peace and dread co-existed in equal measure. Silence followed, and there was understandably no encore.
Listen
You can listen to this concert on BBC Sounds, until 11 February. Meanwhile click here to listen to a playlist of the works in this concert on Tidal, with the J.S. Bach and Shostakovich recorded by the Cuarteto Casals themselves.
by Ben Hogwood photos courtesy of the ABBA Voyage website
An admission: I used to struggle with ABBA.
Although I loved the tunes to the likes of Money, Money, Money and Super Trouper – the first songs I can ever remember, from primary school discos, I started to see them as a bit too cheesy and found they were getting in the way of the house music I was obsessed with on university student nights.
What I have (so far) learned with age is that music tastes can change either subtly or unexpectedly, like a maturing whisky or a flavour that suddenly and unexpectedly hits the spot. And so it has been with ABBA, a feeling exemplified by a visit to the ABBA Voyage show on Saturday 8 November.
I wasn’t quite prepared for the emotional scale of what was about to come. Sure, the atmosphere in the arena beforehand was expectant, everyone with a ready smile and the wish to shake off the horrible parts of the modern world for a couple of hours. In reality, the ABBA show had done that for us in the first minute.
With lighting (from WHITEvoid) and sonics to justify the expensive price tag, this was a show sat squarely between the best cinematic experience you will ever have and the thrill of a live gig. The Hero Band were simply astonishing, not just for their virtuosity but in their clear love of the music, matching the vocals note for note but adding their own personalities at the same time.
But what vocals we had! Initially the idea that they could be connected with the avatars on stage appeared far-fetched, the distant figures surely incapable of such feats. Yet once the figures of Agnetha, Benny, Björn and Anni-frid had appeared on the big screen, it was time to suspend belief and enjoy the run of incredible music stretching before us.
To any radio listener or disco dancer, ABBA are the stuff of life, unwittingly providing us doubters with a soundtrack to our every move. Each song here had years of history on radio, apart from the well-chosen opening pair, The Visitors and Hole In Your Soul, and the ‘newer’ song Don’t Shut Me Down. The Visitors proved beyond doubt that ABBA have formidable strength in depth, that if you look beyond the frontline singles there is still incredible quality beneath. Don’t Shut Me Down gave strong shots of vulnerability, papered over by an exultant chorus.
Emotions ran high as our lives were effectively played out before us. Inevitably, while Super Trouper was missing, Money, Money, Money gave vivid reminders of that disco aged just six. What I wasn’t expecting was the concentrated outpouring of emotion during the likes of Fernando, with a real sense of occasion, or the real life soap opera cliffhanger that is Knowing Me, Knowing You. Casting aside Alan Partridge reminiscences – with a laugh – here was a chance to get to the nub of those lyrics describing a very public break up, remarkable bravery glimpsed throughout the song.
The set evolved with Disney-like surety, with the animations providing unexpected highs. Eagle was especially beautiful, with animations from Shynola backing a heady rush of endorphins as we soared above the earth, but even that was eclipsed by a triumphant Waterloo, shown exactly as performed at the Dome in Brighton, where it became the winning entry of Eurovision 1974. From there we segued into a truly joyous Thank You For The Music, a hymn to my favourite art form, then on our feet to celebrate Dancing Queen, before a majestic account of The Winner Takes It All.
Just occasionally there was a cynical thought of the amount of cash ABBA and their allies must be making from Voyage…but that was quickly overrun by the realisation that the experience is worth every penny, a thousand positive affirmations in a truly heartfelt two hours.
If you haven’t seen it yet, do try and get to East London, where the feelgood vibes are off the scale. As the Voyage website says, it is a concert like no other!
Published post no.2,716 – Wednesday 12 November 2025
Clara Cecile Thomsen (soprano), Jasmin White (contralto), Issachah Savage (tenor), Adam Palka (bass), Danish National Concert Choir, Danish National Symphony Orchestra / Fabio Luisi
Bent Sørensen Evening Land (2017) Anna Clyne The Years (2021) Beethoven Symphony no.9 in D minor Op.125 ‘Choral’ (1811-24)
Royal Albert Hall, London Thursday 21 August 2025
Reviewed by Ben Hogwood Photos (c) BBC / Chris Christodoulou, Ben Hogwood (soloists)
Celebrating their centenary this year, the Danish National Symphony Orchestra and chief conductor Fabio Luisi led us from the quiet of evening to the blazing light of a sunny morning in the course of this concert.
The challenge facing any concert programmer containing Beethoven’s Choral Symphony is how to lead up to it. This Prom approached from a contemporary angle, beginning in near silence with Bent Sørensen’s contemplative Evening Land. The Danish composer’s imaginative orchestration was key to the success of his picture painting, beautifully rendered by Luisi, as was the threadbare violin solo with which leader Christina Åstrand began. Childhood reminiscences of the Danish island Zealand took place in the half-light, contrasting with visions of nocturnal Manhattan that came through in bursts of technicolour, honouring Leonard Bernstein. Making a lasting impression, however, was the beautiful oboe solo from Kristine Vestergaard that marked the illness and subsequent passing of Sørensen’s father.
Having eavesdropped on this intimate opening piece, the Danish National Concert Choir rose for Anna Clyne’s musical account of the Covid pandemic – already consigned to history, it seems. Few people would like to revisit those days in a concert experience, but Clyne’s message – channelling the text of Stephanie Fleischmann – was one of underlying resilience. The choir began in stasis, occupying an added note chord which somehow drew parallels with the Björk song Possibly Maybe for this correspondent, before the piece flourished. A dreamlike mood was enhanced by a pure, almost complete lack of vibrato from both choir and orchestra, while the harmonic language drew strong parallels with the latter stages of Holst’s suite The Planets – Saturn and Neptune in particular. An autumnal chill was evident in spite of increasingly frenetic activity in the orchestra, and the piece ended in an uneasy acceptance of events passed, rather like our own emergence from lockdown.
Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony is the ultimate hymn to freedom, though it does of course go through a titanic struggle before that release, in the form of Schiller’s Ode To Joy, can be attained. Luisi led us through the dark, pre-twilight moments in an account notable for its poise and guile. Using relatively fast speeds, the first movement took a little while to light the touch paper, but once ignited the music powered forward with increasing determination. The scherzo was quick, quite matter of fact with its timpani interventions, and balanced by a bucolic trio where the wind kept pace heroically with Luisi’s quick baton. Their attractive textures and warm melodic phrasing were a key feature of both this and the Adagio, again on the quick side, but managing its fanfare interventions impeccably.
Left to right: Clara Cecile Thomsen (soprano), Jasmin White (contralto), Issachah Savage (tenor), Adam Palka (bass), beneath the bust of Sir Henry Wood @ BBC Proms
And so to the finale, with a memorable exposition for the Ode to Joy theme from sotto voce cellos and basses, the Royal Albert Hall hushed in anticipation. The choral passages were suitably exultant, the 75-strong choir drilled to perfection if cooler in temperature than the orchestra. The four soloists (above) were led by impressive bass Adam Palka, whose authoritative recitative “O Freunde, nicht diese Töne!” was a highlight, and while the quartet’s ensemble pieces wavered a little in tuning the sense of release and elation was keenly felt and clearly relished. The smile on the face of the music spread to the audience in the exhilarating closing bars as the orchestra took flight, completing an impeccably controlled interpretation on the part of Luisi that came to the boil at just the right time.
You can listen back to this Prom concert on BBC Sounds until Sunday 12 October.
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.
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