Tag Archives: Robert Ames

In concert – Ex Cathedra, CBSO / Robert Ames: Northern Lights

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Ex Cathedra (George Parris, chorus-master), City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra / Robert Ames

Arnalds arr. Geoff Lawson Momentary (2018)
Jóhansson arr. Robert Ames Kanguru (2016)
Guðnadóttir arr. Ames For Petra (2022) [UK Premiere]
Jóhansson arr. Anthony Weeden Arrival – Suite No.1 (2016)
Guðnadóttir arr. Ames Ascent (2009)
Arnalds Og Lengra (2009)
Jónsi & Somers arr. David Handler Boy 1904 (2009)
Björk arr. Ian Anderson Jóga (1997)
Sveinsson Der Klang Der Offenbarung des Göttlichen (2014) [UK Premiere]

Symphony Hall, Birmingham
Saturday 5 April 2025

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse

Saturday’s concerts often ring the changes in the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra’s season and this evening proved no exception – Northern Lights comprising a programme by the younger generation of Icelandic composers that has come to the fore of European music.

Much has been made of the inclusivity and non-conformism of music in Iceland – spurred on, no doubt, by that country’s geographical isolation well into the 20th century with its lack of a classical tradition as regards composing or performance. Yet the main impression left by what was heard tonight was its overall lack of diversity in terms of sound and, as a consequence, its uniformity as regards expression. For a country which is synonymous with spectacular natural phenomena as well as its off-the-wall attitude, this was surprising and not a little disconcerting.

Any such trend was largely bucked by the late Jóhann Jóhansson, whose numerous film scores were represented by two extracts from that to sci-fi drama Arrival – the first enlivened with its quirky vocal syllabics, then the second building up an ominous and ever more menacing aura. They were preceded by a track from Ólafur Arnalds’s album Re:member that set the sombrely evocative scene, and each of them followed with music by Hildur Guðnadóttir – a simmering extract from the ambitious while overwrought film Tár, then a track from her album Without Sinking that ended rather less arrestingly than it began. An excerpt from Arnalds’ ballet score Dyad 1909 has atrophied even before its close, and the Jónsi / Alez Somers collaborative track from their album Riceboy Sleeps was appreciably less than the sum of its intriguing parts. At least the first half closed on a relative high with a track from Björk’s Homogenic – one of her finest achievements here given an arresting twist by Ian Anderson, whose album reworkings with his outfit Wooden Elephant should have garnered more attention in the classical domain.

Little of Björk’s bracing idiosyncrasy – let alone the eruptive physicality of Iceland’s musical ‘father’ Jón Leifs – was evident during Kjartan Sveinsson’s Der Klang Der Offenbarung des Göttlichen occupying the second half. A former member of that (over?) influential post-rock band Sigur Rós, his ‘opera’ inspired by Halldór Laxness’s seminal novel World Light eschews individual characters and specific actions, though its presumed scenario of acceptance within the midst of adversity feels vestigial at best. Admittedly its opening threnody unfolded with a Górecki-like eloquence, but the ensuing dialogue between choir and strings sounded akin to a Germanic liturgical setting by a forgotten composer of the later 19th century – far from those expressionist canvasses by Ragnar Kjartansson that formed a backdrop at its Berlin premiere.

It should be added that the members of Ex Cathedra gave their collective all for what was an all too rare appearance with the CBSO. As, moreover, did the orchestra itself when conducted with such expertise by Robert Ames who, as a violist with whom to reckon and founding co-director of the enterprising London Contemporary Orchestra, is nothing if not well-versed in this music. What a pity that the outcome as experienced tonight was music often uninvolving, sometimes dull and conformist in a way that contemporary Icelandic culture should never be.

For details on the 2024-25 season A Season of Joy, head to the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra website. Click on the names to read more about conductor Robert Ames and the choir Ex Cathedra

Published post no.2,498 – Tuesday 8 April 2025

On Record – Dan Michaelson: Colourfield (Village Green Recordings)

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reviewed by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

Dan Michaelson is known principally for his work as a respected Americana singer, with five albums to his name with the Coastguards, and two as a solo artist. More recently, however, his explorations have taken him towards descriptive instrumental music, with a soundtrack for the film Blowin’ Up in 2018, not to mention three seasons’ worth of music for the three series of underground TV hit Detectorists.

Working under a self-confessed influence from the music of John Adams, Steve Reich, Anna Thorvaldsdottir and Caroline Shaw, Michaelson started work on his own solo album of instrumental music, collaborating with violinist Galya Bisengalieva and Robert Ames, the violist who also conducts the London Contemporary Orchestra.

What’s the music like?

Very accomplished. Michaelson takes the name checked influences and works them really well, creating his own pictures that evolve slowly but very surely. The woodwind and piano colouring in Colourfield II is reminiscent – in a wholly good way – of Steve Reich’s work in his Variations for winds, strings and keyboards.

Coulourfield III has the most memorable theme, a suitably heroic horn line, while by contrast Colourfield IV has lovely dappled shades, with stately strings that gradually pick up more energy. Colourfield IV is atmospheric too, with shimmering harmonics and tremolo, a strong sense of the wood on these stringed instruments actually creaking.

Michaelson is equally at home in smaller and larger structures – and the second and fifth pieces extend beyond ten minutes with ease and control.

Does it all work?

Largely. Michaelson creates some vivid pictures but just on occasion the feeling persists that more melodic elements would raise the profile of the music. The textures are undeniably beautiful, as are the harmonic progressions, but it sometimes needs an extra line, such as a vocal or solo instrument, to elevate it to something truly memorable.

Is it recommended?

Yes. Even with the melodic reservation taken into account, there is some beautiful music here which really holds its own on repeated listening. Michaelson’s scoring is ideally weighted, and any of these numbers would be the ideal foil for visual material. It will be interesting to see where he goes from here.

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Live review – London Contemporary Orchestra @ The Barbican: Other Worlds

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London Contemporary Orchestra & Choir / Robert Ames
Universal Assembly Unit (art direction)
Artrendex (artificial intelligence)

Barbican Hall, London
Wednesday 31 October 2018

Scelsi Uaxuctum (1969) (UK premiere)
John Luther Adams Become Ocean (2013)

Written by Ben Hogwood

If the apocalypse comes while we are alive, what music do you want played?

It is a thought-provoking question, one that some composers have tackled head-on by writing music of their own. The end of days provided the link for this programme of polar opposites from the London Contemporary Orchestra, given at the Barbican to the accompaniment of images dictated by algorithmic responses, thanks to the AI technology of Artrendex and the Universal Assembly Unit.

The first part was the end of days in the darkest possible sense. Giacinto Scelsi’s five-part Uaxuctum takes as its inspiration the Legend of the Maya City, and its self-destruction for religious reasons. Due to the demands made on the performers – and, the programme argued, an overly conservative approach to using Scelsi’s music – this was the UK premiere of a piece written nearly fifty years ago.

The textures were remarkable, achieved through a variety of vocal techniques such as trills, tremolos, hissing, deep breathing and nasal sounds. The use of quarter tones lent an extra level of difficulty and a sense of dread to the music, the vocals stubbornly sat in between the instrumental notes at times. The London Contemporary Choir met these demands heroically, stood on the left under a screen whose barbed imagery and sudden explosions of orange and red light were wholly appropriate.

The sizable orchestra was bolstered by a massive battery of percussion, including an enormous barrel rubbed with a ‘thundersheet’ – which made a suitably massive noise. This provided some chilling, incendiary shocks, while the percussion themselves supported the music from what felt like underneath the floorboards.

Perhaps because of the massive screen the edge was taken off the sound a little, which compromised the raw impact of the piece, but Scelsi’s often monotone musical language left an incredibly strong impact under the passionate direction of Robert Ames. Its resultant chill stayed throughout the interval.

John Luther Adams, environmentalist as well as composer, has garnered many plaudits for Become Ocean, a 2013 composition that sees the Earth returning to its early state of complete water coverage. Should it happen again, this form of apocalypse would be man-made; the ultimate destination should global warming continue in the way it does.

Adams chose not respond to this with the sharp edges and doom-mongered percussion of an industrial age. Rather he utilises the orchestra as a single instrument of subtly altering shades, beginning low in the murky depths of the piano but gradually superimposing layers to make a wonderfully sonorous block chord the listener can literally dive into.

Interpreting this as a colour, it could only be the deepest blue of the unfathomable ocean, and the imagery responded as such, submerging the orchestra in slow moving waves under deep, grey cloud. We were, it seemed, cast out in the middle of the ocean, as far from land as could be, but this was to be a meditative exile, accepting of its fate if not wholly aspiring to it.

The music carried for 45 minutes and there were several climax points, where the images grew deeper, before Ames pulled us back to the bare bones again. Adams ended where he had begun, back in the lower reaches of the piano.

Silence was the only appropriate response to this wall of water through sound, a wonderful contemplation and immersion that proved unexpectedly moving, the realisation hitting home of just how much damage we have inflicted on our own planet.

If they ever met, Scelsi and Adams would surely have found a common ground, despite the fascination of their wildly different responses to the final, greatest destruction. They left us with much to ponder and admire, especially from the London Contemporary Orchestra, whose standard of performance was unstinting, and whose virtuosity behind the scenes ensured these two apocalyptic visions met their final destination.

Further listening

The works in this concert can be heard on the Spotify playlist below: