Picture: By uncredited press photographer, public domain
by Ben Hogwood
On this day in 1938, the premiere of Serenade to Music, one of Vaughan Williams‘ best-loved pieces, took place at the Royal Albert Hall. Conducted by Sir Henry Wood, the orchestra was a blend of players from the London Symphony Orchestra, BBC Symphony Orchestra and London Philharmonic Orchestra.
In the audience was a certain Sergei Rachmaninoff, who had performed his own Piano Concerto no.2 in the first half of the concert, and who was moved to tears by Vaughan Williams’ new work.
Serenade To Music is led by a group of 16 solo singers, a starry line-up including the likes of Isobel Baillie, Elsie Suddaby, Heddle Nash and Walter Widdop. The account below is conducted by John Wilson, from the Concordia Foundation 15th Anniversary Gala at the Queen Elizabeth Hall. 22nd November 2010:
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.
Alisa Weilerstein (cello, below), City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra / Joshua Weilerstein (above)
Still Poem for Orchestra (1944) Dvořák Cello Concerto in B minor, B191 (1894) Rachmaninoff Symphonic Dances, Op. 45 (1940)
Symphony Hall, Birmingham Wednesday 12 March 2025 (2:15pm)
Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse Picture of Joshua Weilerstein (c) Beki Smith
Joshua Weilerstein is always a welcome returning artist to the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, invariably with artful programmes such as this afternoon’s interplay of American music with that by European composers finding themselves in temporary or permanent exile.
The music of William Grant Still has made a tentative re-emergence over recent years, Poem for Orchestra being typical of that from his maturity in its galvanizing a late-Romantic idiom with an emotional range of almost cinematic immediacy. Weilerstein steered a secure course through a piece whose darkness-to-light trajectory mirrors that of an accompanying poem by the composer’s wife Verna Avery, in which the foreseeable end of world war might yet bring a new unity and compassion as is reflected through the enfolding euphony of its final pages.
Joshua and his sister Alisa (above) have both appeared often with the CBSO, though Dvořák’s Cello Concerto seems to have been their first Symphony Hall collaboration. Hopefully not the last, their rapport manifest as soon as the opening Allegro’s orchestral tutti has run its purposeful course. Any marginal falling-off of momentum over the latter stages of the development was more than offset by the soloist’s thrilling ascent into the reprise of the easeful second theme, with the coda’s treacherous passagework assuredly negotiated prior to an affirmative ending.
The ensuing Adagio is the work’s emotional heard in all respects, but these siblings rightly refrained from milking the pathos of its ruminative main theme at all times, so throwing the drama of the central episodes then especially the confiding intimacy at its close into greater relief. Lunched directly, the Finale exuded an impetus as sustained this movement through to its extended coda which, more than usually, seemed to warrant a raptly inward outcome – though there was nothing contrived about the heady arrival of those exhilarating final bars.
Rachmaninoff’s Symphonic Dances is hardly a stranger to concert programmes these days, the CBSO having given several memorable accounts in recent seasons. That by Weilerstein was certainly among them, above all with an opening dance whose trenchant outer sections elided perfectly into then out of the central span characterized by Kyle Horch’s soulful alto saxophone. Nor did the Tempo di valse disappoint in its mingled stealth and malevolence, even if the closing pages perhaps dispersed their ominous aura just a little too temperately.
Much the most difficult movement to hold together, the final dance left a potent impression. Its outer sections never rushed and superbly articulated, Weilerstein made the most of that spellbinding transition into a central section where (uniquely with this composer) harmony or texture predominate over melody in defining this music’s expressive persona. From here he ratcheted up tension heading to a seismic confrontation of competing plainchants, then a denouement almost choreographed in its stillness as that final tam-tam echoed into silence.
Directing without a score, this is definitely a work with which Weilerstein feels an especial identity, and the CBSO was unstinting in its collective response. One can only look forward to further concerts between this orchestra and conductor, and hopefully in the coming season.
Jong-Gyung Park (piano, below), Tonbridge Philharmonic Orchestra / Oliver Cope (above)
Tchaikovsky Romeo & Juliet Fantasy Overture (1869, rev. 1880) Rachmaninov Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini Op.43 (1934) Brahms Symphony no.4 in E minor Op.98 (1884-5)
Chapel of St Augustine, Tonbridge School, Tonbridge Saturday 22 February 2025
Reviewed by Ben Hogwood Photos of Oliver Cope, Chapel of St Augustine (c) Ben Hogwood
This was the first concert for the Tonbridge Philharmonic Orchestra under their interim musical director Oliver Cope, in the position while current incumbent Naomi Butcher is on maternity leave. On this evidence he has quickly built a rapport with the orchestra, already in fine fettle under Butcher’s recent direction. On this occasion they responded with a memorable concert of Romantic favourites, given in the spectacular setting of the Chapel of St Augustine in Tonbridge School.
It is easy to take Tchaikovsky’s inspiration for granted, for his storytelling and melodic gifts are so abundant that his best music flows irrepressibly. Such is the case with the Romeo & Juliet Fantasy Overture, in spite of the two revisions required for its composer to be fully satisfied. Cope was an athletic presence on the podium as the orchestra responded with a dramatic account of the lovers’ story, the sword duel between Mercutio and Tybalt particularly vivid, while the soaring love theme tugged at the heartstrings. With fire and brimstone, and crisp ensemble playing, this performance lit the touch paper at the start of the evening.
If anything, Rachmaninov’s Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini was even better. This was because Jong-Gyung Park (above), the popular rehearsal pianist with the Tonbridge Philharmonic Choir, delivered a sparkling account of the theme and its 24 variations. Cope threw down the gauntlet with a brisk tempo, yet Park rose to the challenge by taking control of even the quickest exchanges. There was an instinctive flow through the first six variations, the mood acquiring an appropriate chill as the Dies Irae was introduced in the seventh. From here the music travelled down darker roads, though still found time for a baleful sixteenth variation, before a shiver could be felt in the air as the seventeenth took hold. The famous eighteenth variation was lovingly delivered, before a flight to the finish that saw Park dazzle with her virtuosity, never losing sight of the whole picture.
To complete a challenging program, Brahms’s Symphony no.4 – and after initial hesitation, a convincing interpretation revealing this work’s unique bridges to the past – notably Bach – and the future, with Schoenberg on the horizon. There was an attractive open-air quality to much of the orchestra’s music making, with the second movement becoming a spring-like counterpart to the obdurate first. The scherzo built on this, dancing with a smile on its face. Flautist Rebecca Rees led a fine woodwind section in the second movement, where the horns, led by Paul Kajzar, were suitably fulsome. They were to prove critical to the success of the finale as the passacaglia developed, capping a performance with serious outlines but shot through with bursts of optimism suggesting Brahms still had a great deal to be thankful for later on in life. It put the seal on an extremely impressive concert.
Rachmaninoff Symphonic Dances Op.45 (1940) Busoni Piano Concerto in C major Op. XXXIX (1902-4)
Benjamin Grosvenor (piano), The Rodolfus Choir (men’s voices), London Philharmonic Choir (men’s voices), London Philharmonic Orchestra / Edward Gardner
Royal Albert Hall, London Monday 5 August 2024
reviewed by Richard Whitehouse Photos (c) Andy Paradise
This centenary of Busoni’s death has not thus far seen a great deal of activity in the UK, so it was gratifying to find the Proms scheduling his most (in)famous work – the Piano Concerto tonight receiving its second performance at these concerts, 36 years to the day after its previous outing.
Back then, the first half featured Beethoven’s Fourth Symphony and a more apposite coupling than Rachmaninoff’s Symphonic Dances. Now firmly ensconced in the orchestral repertoire, it remains a stern test the London Philharmonic Orchestra did not quite meet on this occasion – despite such felicities as Martin Robertson’s eloquent alto sax in the first movement and Edward Gardner’s conjuring of a tangible malevolence in its successor. Impulsive but erratic in its outer sections, the finale’s evocative central span had a superficial quality typical of this performance overall.
This was not the case in the Busoni. Benjamin Grosvenor (above) might not the first name who comes to mind for this concerto but, having already given performances in Reykjavik and Berlin, he was audibly attuned to an idiom not as elusive as often supposed in its canny amalgam of the Germanic and Italianate, while his playing was fully equal to its technical demands. That he is not a pianist looking to confront the orchestra head on ensured a more than usually close-knit coordination with players and conductor, which was almost always to the benefit of this piece.
Not least in Prologo e Introito, its orchestral introduction enticingly shaded by Gardner with Grosvenor integrating his unequivocal entry into what are essentially variations on the theme at the outset. Few pianists have weighted Busoni’s complex chords or his intricate harmonies with such translucency, not least the end of this movement where piano and orchestra melded to spellbinding effect. Straight into Pezzo giocoso, its capricious outer sections framing one of stealthy ambivalence as perceptively rendered as was that spectral angularity near its close.
Grosvenor managed the rare trick of making Pezzo serioso simultaneously cumulative and cohesive. He duly channelled the slow-burning momentum of its introduction into the rolled chords of its barcarolle-like first part – Gardner sustaining impetus across its successor to an imperious climax, during which the soloist never risked being obliterated. The lead-in to its third part had a poise equal to that at the end, where subtle rhythmic contrasts between piano and timpani against undulating strings had an enfolding calm to diffuse any lingering tension.
A general pause for retuning, then All’italiana burst forth – the underlying tarantella rhythm a springboard for its motley succession of vernacular elements initially humorous and latterly uproarious, held in check by the scintillating give-and-take of soloist and orchestra. Grosvenor almost topped these shenanigans with his electrifying cadenza – after which, Gardner prepared admirably for Cantico in which male voices (above) hymned Allah’s praises with mounting fervour; Grosvenor a largely passive observer until he belatedly returned for the headlong signing-off.
Quite a performance, then, that will hopefully be released commercially. Did Busoni offer an encore at that Berlin premiere? It could not have been more suitable than J.S. Bach’s Prelude in E minor BWV855, transposed and arranged by Alexander Siloti – three minutes of balm bringing us gently down to earth.
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