Tag Archives: Royal Festival Hall

In concert – Mark van de Wiel, Philharmonia Chamber Players – Gipps & Weber

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Philharmonia Chamber Players [Mark van de Wiel (clarinet, above), Eugene Lee, Fiona Cornall (violins), Scott Dickinson (viola), Karen Stephenson (cello)]

Gipps Rhapsody in E flat major (1942)
Weber Clarinet Quintet in B flat major Op.34 (1811-15)

Royal Festival Hall, London
Thursday 20 February 2025

Reviewed by Ben Hogwood Picture of Mark van de Wiel (c) Luca Migliore

This free concert in the Royal Festival Hall was a breath of fresh air. Bolstered by visitors, the auditorium was a heartening two-thirds full, the audience made up of families, tourists and workers seeking musical enlightenment. Yours truly fell into the latter category!

The Philharmonia Orchestra have played to this type of crowd for decades now, either by way of introduction to their evening concerts (like this one) or providing a standalone concert focusing on a particular composer (Music of Today) or instrument.

In this instance they covered all bases, with music for clarinet and string quartet introduced from the stage by principal clarinet Mark van de Wiel. The ensemble began with a relative rarity, Ruth Gipps’ Rhapsody in E flat major only coming in from the cold in recent years. Dedicated to her fellow RCM student and future husband, Robert Baker, it is an attractive piece with affection evident from its soft, pastorally inflected first statement. However Gipps’ folk-inspired variant on the opening theme steals the show, firstly heard on cello then subsequently joined by its companions, the clarinet finally singing eloquently over pizzicato strings.

In his talk Van de Wiel’s love of the piece was evident, before he introduced another sleeping giant, Weber’s Clarinet Quintet. Often sitting in the shade of its illustrious companions by Mozart and Brahms, this winsome piece – written for clarinettist Heinrich Baermann – demonstrates just how far the instrument had progressed in the two decades since Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto.

Van de Wiel demonstrated how his clarinet, with 17 keys, was at an advantage to that of Baermann’s ten, in theory reducing the difficulty. His modesty, however, was made clear in the virtuoso demands Weber still makes on the instrument, a fully-fledged soloist, with all manner of tricks up its sleeve.

To Weber’s credit this is not at the expense of musical quality or emotional impact, for although we enjoyed some flights of fancy in the first movement Allegro there was plenty of feeling in the dialogue between clarinet and string quartet. A tender, operatic second movement followed, then an airy and enjoyably mischievous Menuetto rather fast for dancing perhaps but charming all the same. Then came the brilliantly executed finale, living up to its Allegro giojoso marking as Van de Wiel mastered Weber’s increasingly athletic demands with flair and musicality.

Happily both pieces have been recorded as part of a new album forthcoming from the quintet on Signum Classics, where they will team this repertoire with Anna Clyne’s Strange Loops. If the performances match these live accounts, they will constitute a fine document from one of Britain’s very best clarinettists. As though to confirm this, the assembled throng left wreathed in smiles.

For details on the their 2024-25 season, head to the Philharmonia Orchestra website

Published post no.2,452 – Friday 21 February 2025

In concert – Alexander Roslavets, Gidon Kremer, LPO / Andrey Boreyko @ Royal Festival Hall: A Dark Century

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Alexander Roslavets (narrator / bass), Gidon Kremer (violin), London Philharmonic Choir (men’s voices), London Philharmonic Orchestra / Andrey Boreyko

Schoenberg A Survivor from Warsaw Op.46 (1947)
Weinberg Violin Concerto in G minor Op.67 (1959)
Shostakovich Symphony no.13 in B flat minor Op.113 ‘Babi Yar’ (1962)

Royal Festival Hall, London
Wednesday 27 November 2024

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse Pictures (c) Richard de Stoutz (Andrey Boreyko), Angie Kremer (Gidon Kremer)

Anyone who heard one or other of these works for the first time at this concert by the London Philharmonic Orchestra could be forgiven for thinking that the twentieth century, if not a ‘dark century’ per se, was at the very least a troubled one for all that the quality of its music was undeniable.

With its elements of melodrama and cantata, Schoenberg’s A Survivor from Warsaw is one of his most original conceptions and necessarily so, given the unnerving immediacy of its text in which a speaker has to take on the roles of survivor and officer in just six minutes. Alexander Roslavets rose to this challenge, bringing out emotional contrasts as surely as he instilled his words with that ominous dread whose culmination in the prayer Shema Yisrael was intoned by the London Philharmonic Choir with the right balance between desperation and defiance.

One composer who witnessed something of such atrocities was Mieczysław Weinberg, and if his Violin Concerto demonstrably continues the ‘Romantic’ tradition, this is still an inherently personal statement. Gidon Kremer has championed the composer extensively in recent years and, while technical issues seemingly inhibited the respectively incisive and impetuous outer movements, the restless searching of its intermezzo-like Allegretto then confiding eloquence of its Adagio were abundantly in evidence. For all its outward virtuosity, the music’s essential inwardness is what prevails as the soloist remains musing when the orchestra fell silent at the close of the finale. Kremer was in his element here, as in a touching rendition of Silvestrov’s Serenade which made for an apposite encore and was dedicated to all the people of Ukraine.

Best known for giving the posthumous premiere of Gorecki’s Fourth Symphony with the LPO 10 years back, Andrey Boreyko is well established as an exponent of Shostakovich so that his take on the Thirteenth Symphony did not disappoint. At a distance of over six decades, it can be hard to recapture the provocation of that most eminent Soviet composer using verse by the most populist younger poet, as Yevgeny Yevtushenko then was, but this setting of Babi Yar retains all its expressive force through the immediacy and resourcefulness in which it relates official indifference to the Jewish massacre as that ravine outside Kyiv was transformed into landfill. Broodingly restrained, Roslavets emerged into his own with Humour – its scabrous send-up of bone-headed officialdom inspiring one of Shostakovich’s most scurrilous scherzos.

Fashioning the last three movements into a cohesive if cumulative unity, Boreyko underlined the potency of Shostakovich’s creative vision as he takes the Soviet establishment to task for various failings economic as In the Store, political as in Fears and cultural as in A Career. Implacable then volatile, these first two are rounded off by Yevtushenko’s considering of the relationship between society and the individual; framed by an undulating melody, for flutes then strings, which is one of its composer’s most evocative as well as affecting inspirations.

It duly brought this work, and this performance, to its subdued yet spellbinding close. As the relationship between East and West becomes ever more confrontational, Shostakovich’s 13th remains a testament to rationality and compassion whose denigration is to everybody’s cost.

For details on the 2024-25 season, head to the London Philharmonic Orchestra website. Click on the names to read more about soloists Alexander Roslavets and Gidon Kremer

Published post no.2,373 – Monday 25 November 2024

In concert – Chaka Khan’s Meltdown: Bruce Hornsby @ Royal Festival Hall

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Bruce Hornsby (vocals, piano), Olivia Chaney (vocals, harmonium)]

Royal Festival Hall, London
Tuesday 18 June 2024

Reviewed by Ben Hogwood Photos (c) Ben Hogwood

Bruce Hornsby likes to challenge his audience. When I was fortunate enough to interview him for musicOMH, he went into some detail – with great feeling – about how the gig experience should not be a mere reproduction of his recorded output.

In reality, the opposite is the truth. While he presents his best-known material, he coats it in new clothes, pairing it in some cases with modern classical piano works. Ligeti, Webern, Elliott Carter and Schoenberg all make themselves known in the course of this solo piano set, their chromatic compositions a direct contrast to the pop songs with which they are juxtaposed.

Hornsby is a natural raconteur in between, his stories told with a glint in the eye but also with a good deal of meaning and emotion. The piano is his closest relative, for sure – and the feeling is that not a day goes by without Hornsby spending at least a few hours seated at the keyboard. Watching this gig is akin to eavesdropping on a practice session in the room next door. Sure, there are some rough edges, but they are all part of the charm – moments where the voice has to travel higher than it might normally go, or where there are too many notes to fit into the available meter at the end of a particularly fulsome improvisation.

For these performances are very much in the moment, and for that the audience is grateful. The Royal Festival Hall stage is an oversized living room, the audience effectively sat around the fire as the host tells his musical stories. The narration is kept brief, as the generous host ‘only has 90 minutes’ in which to fit the music he wants to play.

Ten minutes in and we have already had our money’s worth, in the form of elegant versions of Days Ahead and Soon Enough. In these songs Hornsby uses the piano as a miniature orchestra, creating colours through the unusual density of the left-hand part but giving us memorable melodies and lyrics too. The voice is in good shape, the piano even more so.

Cast-Off is the first to showcase his more recent musical directions, the co-write with Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon a humourous tale of a man addicted to break-ups but one with a lingering sadness. The melodic profile is now angular, but the tunes still make sense, while the harmonies strain at the leash leaving their audience behind.

At times it seems Hornsby is determined to challenge and even rile the audience, with provocative one-liners and musical about-turns. The Way It Is now comes without its principal riff – but it still reaches deep into the soul, a moment for the audience to think and check themselves, assess their life direction even. It remains a special song, one of the ‘80s best, and the mark of a good song is that it can work in several guises. The same can be said for The End Of The Innocence, a Hornsby composition for Don Henley, which by its end inhabits the air of a Brahms intermezzo.

The co-writes are a source of constant surprise and wonder. There are songs written with Chaka Khan (the moving Love Me Still), performed with Sting, Eric Clapton and Bruce Springsteen (Halcyon Days), or with Elton John (Dreamland), where the piano line is recognisably the work of Hornsby.

He sings affectionately of his son’s dislike of school (Hooray For Tom) and ventures into ‘the curiously American genre of the murder ballad’ for the Pat Metheny collaboration Country Doctor, where wondrous things happen beneath the floorboards – aka the piano’s lowest register. This is the song with the most rhythmic drive.

At two points in his set Hornsby is joined by fellow singer-songwriter Olivia Chaney, who also plays harmonium. Their version of The Pogues’ Fairytale In New York is on the quaint side, and feels under rehearsed, but works thanks to the musicianship on show, even if the harmonium is low in the mix. Balance is restored for Mandolin Rain, one of the best songs on show, where Hornsby’s deadpan emotional guard almost slips.

He is a true entertainer, able to get the crowd eating out of his hand while they marvel at the skill and guile of a performer who has not yet been fully appreciated in his time. Fifteen albums into his career, Hornsby is more adventurous on his approach to 70 than he ever has been, set to challenge his audience even further with time. More power to his elbow, for a great pianist such as him deserves this stage on a much more regular basis. The crowd, discussing a memorable night, would surely agree.

Published post no.2,214 – Wednesday 19 June 2024

In concert – Sheku Kanneh-Mason, Soloists, Philharmonia Chorus, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra / Vasily Petrenko: Elgar, Weinberg & Rachmaninoff

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Sheku Kanneh-Mason (cello), Mirjam Mesak (soprano), Pavel Petrov (tenor), Andrii Kymach (baritone), Philharmonia Chorus, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra / Vasily Petrenko

Elgar In The South (Alassio) Op.50 (1904)
Weinberg Cello Concerto Op.43 (1948/1956)
Rachmaninoff The Bells Op.35 (1913)

Royal Festival Hall, London
Thursday 11 April 2024

Reviewed by Ben Hogwood Pictures (c) Chris Christodoulou

The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra and Vasily Petrenko continued their dual focus on Rachmaninoff and Elgar this season with a deeply satisfying programme. They began with Elgar on holiday, music to match the Mediterranean climate of a rather humid Royal Festival Hall. This was In The South, Elgar’s extended postcard from Alassio, Italy, a sudden burst of inspiration that the composer finished in double quick time. Petrenko and his charges caught the instinctive writing, launching the overture in high spirits that brought the spring sunshine in from outside. Their interpretation grew in stature as it progressed, the central statements from brass given impressive heft. Yet it was the quieter asides that proved most telling, notably a fine viola solo from Abigail Fenna, whose depiction of the ‘canto popolare’ was appropriately reserved and beautifully phrased.

Sheku Kanneh-Mason joined for Weinberg’s Cello Concerto, a fine work sharing the same key (C minor) and elegiac mood of its now neglected equivalent by Nikolai Myaskovsky, completed three years earlier. Sheku’s credentials in Shostakovich (he won the BBC Young Musician prize with a standout account of the Cello Concerto no.1) served him well here, and he was an eloquent guide in the thoughtful first movement. Again this was an interpretation growing in stature, from a silvery first movement to the persuasive habanera of a Moderato that grew increasingly sour in tone, aided by standout solos from trumpeter Matthew Williams. By the third movement Allegro the gloves were well and truly off, incisive solo playing carrying through to an assertive and deeply felt cadenza, before the finale responded with doleful phrases turning us back to the material of the first movement, emotions not fully resolved. The main theme carried more weight second time around, while Kanneh-Mason’s choice of the same composer’s Prelude no.18 for solo cello was ideal as an encore, setting the seal on a fine interpretation. Hopefully his thoughts on the concerto will be set down in the studio by Decca before long.

Rachmaninoff’s four-part choral symphony The Bells formed a dramatic second half, led by an extremely well-drilled Philharmonia Chorus (prepared by Gavin Carr), whose diction and ensemble were most impressive. On first glance the men appeared outnumbered, but when the telling moments came in the third and fourth movements they rose to the occasion with great conviction.

In tenor Pavel Petrov, soprano Mirjam Mesak and baritone Andrii Kymach, Petrenko could call on three excellent soloists, Mesak in particular impressing with her sensitive phrasing and vibrato, passionately singing The Mellow Wedding Bells. Her glittering dress was an ideal match for Poe’s verse, too. Petrov’s ringing delivery set the ideal tone in The Silver Sleigh Bells, while Kymach’s declamation was pitched just right for The Mournful Iron Bells, right after the frenzied scherzo, The Loud Alarm Bells.

The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra gave memorable contributions, with incisive woodwind, plangent brass, strings united as one, and percussion that added punctuation to the choral thunderclaps of The Loud Alarm Bells, Rachmaninoff effectively slamming the door shut on his deepest fears. Following this dramatic high point, the cor anglais solo of Patrick Flanaghan was all the more poignant – and Petrenko made sense of the major key ending, a chink of light in the darkness.

You can find more information on further concerts at the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra website

Published post no.2,146 – Friday 12 April 2024

In concert – Frank Dupree, Philharmonia Orchestra / Santtu-Matias Rouvali: Kapustin, Glinka, Borodin & Rimsky-Korsakov

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Frank Dupree (piano, above), Philharmonia Orchestra / Santtu-Matias Rouvali (below)

Glinka Capriccio brillante (Spanish Overture no.1 ‘Jota Aragonese’) (1845)
Kapustin Piano Concerto no.5 Op.72 (1993)
Borodin Symphony no.2 in B minor (1869 – 1876)
Rimsky-Korsakov Capriccio Espagnol Op.34 (1887)

Royal Festival Hall, London
Thursday 7 March 2024 (7.30pm)

Reviewed by Ben Hogwood Pictures (c) Raphael Steckelbach (Frank Dupree), Sisi Burn (Santtu-Matias Rouvali)

After this orchestral spectacular, I can confidently say that the Royal Festival Hall is free of cobwebs!

This most appealing program from the Philharmonia Orchestra was a cosmopolitan collection of works with roots in Russia, in the symphonic tradition (Borodin), delivering postcards from Spain (Glinka and Rimsky-Korsakov) or bringing in music from even further across the Atlantic (Kapustin).

The work with the farthest reach took top billing, thanks to the advocacy and breathtaking pianism of Frank Dupree. Making his debut with the Philharmonia, the soloist seized the opportunity to share his love of the music of Nikolai Kapustin, a composer he has championed on record in the past three years.

To call Kapustin ‘eclectic’ would be an understatement, but the label fits his unusual gift for looking outwards from classical music to jazz, boogie-woogie, Latin and even rock. To his credit none of those stylistic references sound hackneyed, and although the single-movement Piano Concerto no.5 is written out on paper it has a fresh, improvisatory quality that Dupree and the Philharmonia fair lifted off the page.

There were fun and games in this performance, harnessing elements of Gershwin, Milhaud and Shostakovich’s jazz writing, but ultimately channelling a style all of Kapustin’s own. Dupree shared the many musical jokes with the audience, while the Philharmonia percussion section – drum kit, bongos, castanets, everything but the kitchen sink! – was on hot form, Santtu-Matias Rouvali conducting with relish. The slow music explored more tender asides, evoking Harlem nights or even poolside in a hotter climate, while the fast music found Dupree exhibiting deceptive virtuosity as he navigated riffs and syncopations aplenty.

Even this wasn’t quite the highpoint, for there followed a high-spirited encore, Dupree leaning into the piano to thrum the strings in an atmospheric introduction to rhythmic high jinks, the percussion section – including Rouvali – out front to joust playfully with the soloist. It brought the house down.

With such a crowd-pleasing concerto, it was to the Philharmonia and Rouvali’s enormous credit that the rest of the program did not suffer, thanks to sparkling performances of music by three of the ‘mighty handful’ from late 19th century Russia.

Glinka’s clever interpolation of Spanish themes into his own Romantic language was brilliantly conveyed, a colourful account where Rouvali’s tempo had just the right ebb and flow. It is easy to forget this music is as old as 1845, and while the influences of Berlioz and Mendelssohn were still relatively fresh there was plenty of swagger in the dancing rhythms, the percussion again enhancing the brassy swagger of the closing pages.

Rimsky-Korsakov’s Capriccio Espagnol was even more successful, a treasure chest of melodies opened with evident enthusiasm by Rouvali, whose rapid tempo changes did occasionally leave the string section needing to make up ground. Cadenzas for violin (orchestra leader Zsolt-Tihamér Visontay), flute (Samuel Coles), clarinet (Mark van de Wiel) and harp (Heidi Krutzen) were superbly executed, Rimsky’s mini ‘concerto for orchestra’ revealed in glorious technicolour.

Rimsky wrote the Capriccio while orchestrating his friend Borodin’s opera Prince Igor – and it was his own Symphony no.2 that was in theory the most ‘sober’ of the night’s four works. We reckoned without a powerful performance from Rouvali and his charges, however, making the most of a work bursting with melodic ideas that should be heard much more often in the concert hall. The first of these ideas sets the tone for the symphony, a stern utterance with strings digging in and brass solemnly intoning their thoughts. Once heard the melody sticks in the listener’s mind, dominating the first movement where symphonic arguments were tautly exchanged.

There was room for lightness, however, in the quickfire scherzo and jubilant finale. These movements were bisected by an emotive third movement of deeper Russian origin, its theme lovingly delivered by cellos but finding plangent brass (the wonderful horn section led by Ben Hulme) and superb woodwind solos to complement. Rouvali relished the chance to dust off this relative symphonic outcast as part of a thrilling, memorable concert. The smiles on the faces of the Royal Festival Hall concertgoers as they filed into the open air said it all.

You can find more information on further concerts at the Philharmonia website

Published post no.2,112 – Saturday 8 March 2024