Mendelssohn Elijah at the Barbican - Oramo, BBC SO

Today is my hero Felix Mendelssohn's 211th birthday. Normally I'd translate a Lieder text, but much more fun to look forward to Friday's concert at the Barbican Hall, London, when Sakari Oramo conducts the BBC SO in Mendelssohn's Elijah, with soloists Elizabeth Watts, Claudia Huckle, Allan Clayton, and Johan Reuter, and the BBC Symphony Chorus.  Book here - good seats still available.

Droughts, deserts, false gods, angels, earthquakes, hurricanes, tsunamis and a firestorm. Plenty of drama in the Bible. Perhaps what drew Felix Mendelssohn to Elijah was the personality of the prophet himself. Mendelssohn's St Paul was written to please his father, but Elijah springs from much deeper sources. Christians may have monopolized the oratorio, especially in this country, but fundamentally Elijah reflects something even deeper in Mendelssohn's spirit. Although he was a devout Lutheran, never did he deny nor denigrate his Jewish roots. Elijah's God isn't Jesus but the stern God of the Old Testament. Though the heritage of Bach and Handel is clear,  Mendelssohn's personal stamp is even stronger. Elijah is a remarkable statement of faith, depicting a man whose beliefs are made all the stronger by opposition. This gives the oratorio an undercurrent of grit and draws from the composer some of his most passionate, powerful music.

 

The first performances were given in Birmingham in 1846 and London in 1847, firmly establishing Mendelssohn as part of British choral tradition, appealing to middle class choral societies and to  dissenting and non-conformist movements rather than to High Church tastes. The Queen and her German consort, Prince Albert, gave the royal stamp of approval.  Mendelssohn could not be challenged whatever the aristocracy and Established Church might have preferred. Perhaps we can even trace some of the roots of Catholic Emancipation from this period. Because this Elijah goes back to the essence of Mendelssohn's beliefs, it's strikingly "modern" in the sense that it confronts dilemmas we still face today, like identity, faith and integrity.

In the Bible, Elijah is a wild man of the desert who stands up those who worship Baal, who seems to represent consumption and corruption. The orchestra connects to Elijah's spartan nonconformity, and thus has more authority than more elaborate instrumentation. Conducting this many singers at once is difficult, but here they were so well drilled, no-one fluffed an entry. Perfect co-ordination, but even better, total commitment and enthusiasm. When the people call out to Baal, their calls are met by silence. Blocks of male and female voices alternate and interweave."Thanks be to God! He laveth the thirsty Land!", the voices sing. Mendelssohn builds into the wild cross-currents images of wind and rain, thundering into parched ground.  There are so many exquisite passages, it's hard to pick out the most beautiful. "He, watching over Israel, slumbers not, nor sleeps" for example, where the words "slumbers not nor sleeps" repeat in lovely tender patterns. Such delicacy from such a huge chorus. And the glorious apotheosis of the final "and then shall your light  shine forth", ablaze with glory, for Elijah has ascended to Heaven in a fiery chariot.

Although the five soloists naturally take the foreground, it's the magnificent background of the choruses that make Elijah the monument it is. These are the "people of Israel" after all, for whom Elijah sacrifices himself, so it's utterly appropriate. Poised between soloists and massed choir are sub-groups like the double quartet, the quartet and an exceptionally good  trio. "Lift up thine eyes to the mountains", this group sings "whence cometh help".  Elijah's recitatives, "It is enough, O Lord" and "O Lord, I have laboured in vain" can show Elijah as human and vulnerable, rather "English" and understated. Johan Reuter, who will be singing the part, is Danish but has been singing in Britain for many years. Not that it really makes a difference - he's good.

Semyon Bychkov : Detlev Glanert Requiem for Hieronymus Bosch

At the Barbican, London, Semyon Bychkov conducted Detlev Glanert's Requiem for Hieronymus Bosch, commissioned for the 500th anniversary of the painter's birth,  and premiered in Sint Janskathedraal, 's-Hertogenbosch, in April 2016.  It was a huge public occasion, celebrating the rich heritage of the region. Bosch lived most of his life in 's-Hertogenbosch, which was part of the Duchy of Brabant, with a thriving economy that supported artists as well as merchants. Over the centuries, the area was a target for larger empires - the Dukes of Burgundy, then the Hapsburgs.  Bychkov's programme acknowledges the Flemish background, featuring choral works by Johannes Ockeghem (1410-25? to 1494), Thomas Crecquillon (1505 -1557) and Pierre de la Rue (1452-1518) with Andrew Griffiths conducting the BBC Singers.

Detlev Glanert's Requiem for Hieronymus Bosch might be new to London but it was a huge hit, when the first recording was released in June 2017 with Markus Stenz conducting the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra, which I reviewed at the time. Glanert's by no means unknown. He's been a Proms favourite for years. Please read my review of the Proms performance in 2019 HERE, with Bychkov conducting the BBC SO. Detlev Glanert was one of Hans Werner Henze's few students. Like Henze, Glanert's very prolific - 11 operas, including Caligula which has been staged at the ENO, but sadly misunderstood,  (see more here and my review of the Frankfurt production Frankfurt here). Glanert and Bychkov have known each other from the days when Bychkov conducted WDR Köln, so it would be interesting to hear how he approaches the piece. 

Glanert's Requiem for Hieronymus Bosch has all the elements for instant popular success.  It helps that the paintings are so much part of popular culture that everyone recognizes his images of extreme excess.  Bosch's people wear medieval dress, but their actions depict the subconscious, the Id and existential guilt in operation, centuries before the concepts of psychology found expression in formal language. Like Carl Orff's  Carmina Burana, Glanert's Requiem is highly dramatic music theatre, adapting the cataclysmic dreamscapes of Bosch's paintings into music of extremes as lurid as Bosch's images.  This Requiem unfolds in 18 episodes, rather like panels in a medieval triptych. This gives the piece structure, making it easy to follow. The teeming, sprawling  panoramas Bosch depicts could plausibly be depicted in sound, but that would probably be asking too much of most audiences. Like Bosch, though, Glanert's piece replicates extremes. Literally heaven and hell, for the premise is the judgement Bosch faces after death. 

Thus the standard elements of a Requiem Mass are interleaved with the Seven Deadly Sins. The acrid flames of hellfire whipping against the smoke of incense. A harsh Voice (David Wilson-Johnson, narrating) calls from above "Hieronymus Bosch!" Immediately we spring to attention.  Bells ring. Throbbing, rushing figures in the choral line, suggesting the doomed hordes we see in Bosch's paintings. The orchestral lines veer wildly, lit by screaming brass, the chorus screaming to crescendo.   Suddenly the forces fragment and, from the silence, a slow, low penitential intonation.  An abstract Requiem Aeternam, the choral line flowing ambiguously, in almost microtonal haze. like smoke.  In Gluttony the bass (the aptly named Christof Fischesser) sings of food, his lines circular and rotund. The text may be in Latin, but the meaning is clear.  The choir responds with the long, thin lines of an Absolve Domine. reinforced by Wrath with tenor (Gerhard Siegel)  and a Dies Irae which ends with a vivid orchestral flourish. Another demon, Envy, fights back. Soprano Aga Mikolaj's fluid, curving lines mimic the lines in the "heavenly" chorus - imitation is a sign of envy! But the serene  Juste judex prevails. 

But where are we? The organ solo (Leo van Doeselaar) lets rip with a frenzy that suggests a cathedral organ hijacked by Satan.  Despite the extremes of volume and tempi, the lines between heaven and hell are, tellingly, blurred. In Sloth, the soprano sings langorously, joined in sensuous duet by the mezzo (Ursula Hesse von den Steinen). Pride, Lust and Avarice appear, but the balance shifts towards the big guns : Full choir, offstage choir, and orchestra in increasingly full throttle : listen for the jazzy culmination of the Domine Jesu Christe. and the funky trumpet that heralds the Agnus Dei. With the Libera Me and Peccatum, we are in Carmina Burana territory, bursting forth in a blaze, the earthly chorus in raucuous flow, augmented by brass and percussion and the offstage chorus singing of lux perpetua.  Big forces. But is might right ? Glanert's Requiem ends In Paradisium, here the Voice from Above recites lines from the Book of Revelation. Apocalyptic visions, marking the end of the world and of time.  Now, when the Voice screams "Hieronymus!", he doesn't add a demonic epithet. With an unearthly low hum, the choir sings of the chorus angelorum that brings eternal rest.

Glanert's Requiem for Hieronymus Bosch is a public piece rather than a work of inward  contemplation. Nonetheless, as with so much that Glanert writes, subversive humour lurks within. In this Bosch Requiem, Glanert again and again mixes grotesque with irony. Just as the vastness of Carl Orff's Carmina Burana appealed to Nazi taste, the vastness of  this Requiem veers on parody.  Will it be loved for its vulgarity or its irony? Just as the paintings of Hieronymus Bosch reveal the viewer, Glanert's Requiem reveals the listener.  In this case, I think it's the wamth of Glanert's vision, and his compassion for the quirkier aspects of human life, which Hieronymus Bosch himself  had no qualms about depicting.  In the 2 1/2 years since I first heard the piece, it's grown on me, a lot.

Andrew Davis : British Prom - Hugh Wood, Elgar, RVW

An all-British Prom with Sir Andrew Davis, conducting the BBC Symphony Orchestra and Chorus. All three pieces are classics and also classic Andrew Davis territory, which he's conducted many times and has made memorable recordings of in the past - Ralph Vaughan Williams Fantasia on a theme by Thomas Tallis, Hugh Wood Scenes from Comus and Edward Elgar The Music Makers.

Hugh Wood's Scenes from Comus Op.6, (1965), brought the young composer to fame. Inspired by John Milton's Comus : a Masque presented at Ludlow Castle 1634,  it's a large scale dramatic piece, for orchestra, soprano and tenor (here Stacey Tappan and Anthony Gregory). Andrew Davis made the first recording, also with the BBCSO for NMC way back in 2001.  A magical introduction - horns leading strings in an evocation of a dense forest. This might be the primordial forest, where subconcious desires are released : the source of so many legends from the Hexe Loreley to Pelléas et Mélisande and beyond.  Though the strings shimmer, the horns, with connotations of hunting, suggest violence.  The Lady is lost and calls for her brothers, but who are they, and who is she ?  The sounds of the forest overwhelm her, and Comus appears.  Savage dissonances, piercing brass, and rumbling undertones : what has he unleashed ?  "Venus awakes, unwakend love!" . His herioc declarations are met by an interlude of relative stillness, as if the forest, or nature were observing.  Flurrying notes, jerky rhythms, like the frightened heartbeat of cornered prey.  The pace picked up again, angular "running" staccato underlined by percussion, woodwinds flying forwards, then a return to mysterious, brooding strings.  This dynamic contrast suggest the opposition of two forces : strident fanfares interrupted by heavy ostinato.  A dark conclusion , lit by delicate winds. The soloists duet, their voices entwined, but the ominous timbre of bassoons, oboe and trombone suggest that something's awry. The winds sang again, the flute in very high tessitura, the piece concluding with a single note.

Hugh Wood (b 1932) is two years older than Harrison Birtwistle. Both share a fascination with English history and myth, and music as theatrical drama.  Though their work is very different,  there are connections.  Please see my piece on Hugh Wood's Epithalamion which Andrew Davis conducted in 2015. And of course, lots more on Birtwistle and modern British music.

 Elgar's The Music Makers op 69 premiered in July 1912, but had been long in gestation. Elgar knew of Arthur O'Shaughnessy's Ode when he was in his twenties, when he was isolated, scraping a living as teacher, organist and conductor of the very limited orchestra at Powick Asylum, not far from his home, with no obvious prospects. Thirty years later, his status solidly established, might he portray himself in this piece, just as he had portrayed his friends in the Enigma Variations, incorporating references to his own music, not so much for their own sake but because, as he wrote, they expressed "my sense of the loneliness of the artist".  Though this piece is not in the same league as the Enigma Variations, largely due to the turgid doggerel of the text, it captures levels of Elgar's personality which put the image of Elgar as Edwardian fuddy duddy to rest.  No-one believes that, anymore.

 Despite his success and acclaim, Elgar identified creativity with alienation. Artists are "dreamers of dreams, Wandering by lone sea-breakers, And sitting by desolate streams; World-losers and world-forsakers, On whom the pale moon gleams". The slow orchestral introduction gave way to a more forceful section, where the chorus burst forth "One man with a dream, at pleasure. Shall go forth and conquer a crown; And three with a new song's measure Can trample a kingdom down." The orchestra surged in full flow, but animato fades to più lento. Only halfway through did the contralto (Sarah Connolly) emerge, heralded by harps. "They had no vision amazing.....no divine foreshowing Of the land to which they are going" The music makers proceed towards uncharted territory with calm assurance. Yet again, tranquility gives way to con fuoco and back to lento. Ironically, it is the chorus, not the soloist, who sing of "dreaming and singing, A little apart from ye." as if isolation is still too uncomfortable to sing about without ensemble, despite the confident crashing chords in the orchestra and raised voices. A quiet transition to the finale, when the mood rose again, Connolly singing forcefully. "Great hail! " The artist shall "teach us your song's new numbers; And things that we dreamed not before: Yea, in spite of a dreamer who slumbers, And a singer who sings no more." Though the soloist faded to stillness, the chorus continued to hold the line.

Ralph Vaughan Williams Fantasia on a theme by Thomas Tallis was an excellent overture to a very good programme, masterfully executed. 

Semyon Bychkov Prom : Detlev Glanert, Mahler 4

                                                                                                      Photo: Roger Thomas 

Prom 33 at the Royal Albert Hall, with Semyon Bychkov conducting the BBC Symphony Orchestra in Detlev Glanert and Gustav Mahler Symphony no 4.  Bychkov and the BBC SO are always reliable, so this Mahler 4 should have been safe.  Glanert's been a Proms favourite for years - 9 individual works since 1995. So no surpises there, either. But sometimes safe is not enough. How I longed for something to ignite, to lift the performances from routine to what they could have been!

Detlev Glanert

Detlev Glanert was one of Hans Werner Henze's few students. Like Henze, Glanert's very prolific - 11 operas, including Caligula which has been staged in London, (see more here and my review of a performance in Frankfurt here) and numerous other works, including the fairly recent Requiem for Hieronymus Bosch. Please see my detailed review of that here, which will be useful since that, too is coming to the Barbican on 4th December, with Semyon Bychkov conducting the BBCSO, part of a Total Immersion Day into Glanert's career. (Please see more here). That's the real reason behind this Proms programme - not because Einsamkeit is connected to Mahler.  Not at all - read the poem ! One of Glanert's things has been his adaptations of other composer's works - oodles and oddles of them, not all straightforward orchestrations. Some have been much more original works, like his early Mahler Skizze, a zany"joke" combining different themes from Mahler. He has often reorchestrated Schubert, many of these miniatures featuring in earlier proms over the years. Glanert's Einsamkeit is based on Schubert's Einsamkeit D620 (1818), a long ballad to a poem by Franz Joseph Mayrhofer, with whom Schubert had a curious relationship. Morose and possibly mentally unstable, Mayrhofer had few friends and eventually committed suicide, so the poem is oddly prophetic. Please read the text here on Lieder.net, with translations.  If poems could be bipolar, this might be one, with its repeating first lines, and extreme contrasts betwen verses. The piano part in Schubert's setting swings from vehement to eerily insouciant, with obssessive pedalling throughout.  The text is a prayer to a deranged God, the pentitent doomed to eternal self-torture.  In theory, this could have been adapted to a scena of great dramatic presence. But it's very much a "masculine" poem, so why set it for soprano?  Perhaps some sopranos could make it suitably demonic, but not Christina Gansch, who was under strain, unable to compete with the orchestra.

Rather more convincing, Glanert's Weites Land ('Musik mit Brahms' for orchestra) . "Immediately recognizable points of departure are the first four measures of Brahms’s Fourth Symphony with its characteristic alternation of a descending third and ascending sixth. Both intervals are woven into the texture time and again, until the surprising conclusion" wrote a German critic at its premiere in 2014.  Again we have Glanert's feel for heady contrast, here effective because it's not tied to text but to abstract atmosphere: Perhaps a sense of wide, open horizons, where land meets sea and sky?

Bychkov and the BBC SO have done loads of Mahler over the years, separately and together, so it could be taken as given that this would be a decent Mahler 4. It didn't, of course, reach the heights of Bernard Haitink's Mahler 4 with the BBC SO earlier this year at the Barbican - please read my review here - but perhaps nothing could. Haitink's in an altogther more elevated league. So I wasn't too bothered and enjoyed the performance well enough, though I could not understand why some of the Royal Albert Hall audience needed to clap wildly between each movement - something to do with the hands when the mind's not engaged.  Wisely Bychkov didn't allow even the shortest break between the third and final movements, and held his hands aloft for the longest time at the very end, sending a clear message to the audience : pay attention!  A decent reading, if nothing very memorable. Glanert was the real reason for this Prom, but Mahler sells, especially Mahler 4 which many still think is "sunny" and light.  But, as with Haitink's M4, the performance was let down by the singing. Gansch is very young and not all that experienced, which is not necessarily a bad thing, if you realize that the text describes a child's vision of heaven.  There are many different ways of interpreting and perfoming this part : child-like delicacy, sensual enjoyment, melancholy mixed with joy. But it does need a singer who can put more into it. Many more senior singers would think twice about singing Mahler 4 in the same programme as a demanding new work like Einsamkeit, but Gansch isn't yet well enough established to stand up to management pressure.

Undemanding First Night of the Proms 2019

First Night of the BBC Proms 2019 ! The programme might have been a challenging start to the season - Antonín Dvořák The Golden Spinning Wheel and Leos Janáček Glagolitic Mass, with the BBC Symphony Orchestra, BBC Singers and BBC Chorus plus soloists, conducted by Karina Canellakis.  To kick off, a premiere by Zosha di Castri Long is the journey - short is the memory.
Dvořák's The Golden Spinning Wheel is a tale of ghosts and gruesome murder. A king goes hunting in the woods and meets a peasant girl, Dornička and wants to marry her.  Her stepmother and stepsister chop the girl to pieces, but a magician finds her remains. He creates a golden spinning wheel, whose song alerts the king to what's happened.  Dvořák's symphonic poem is based on a collection of Bohemian folk ballads by Karol Jaromir Erben, but the tale itself is ancient, with many variants. Think Brentano and von Arnim Des Knaben Wunderhorn and Mahler's Das klagende Lied, or Debussy Pelléas et Mélisande or even Cinderella.  Dvořák's setting is remarkably graphic, almost cinematic. The king is represented by hunting horns and vigorous upbeat rhythms, Dornička by plaintive winds.  As the magician puts Dornička's bits together, her music comes to life again, high strings sparkling and lyrical. Lots of detail - "royal" trumpets, turbulent figures spinning (literally), stirring up alarm, the conclusion both serene and impudent.  There's a lot more to it than "dreamy" ! Because The Golden Spinning Wheel is so dramatic, it ought to be almost foolproof in performance.  The BBC Symphony Orchestra should know it, since they've done it before. When it's done well, it glows with warmth and vibrant vigour - Dornička, a force of Nature, cannot be extinguished.  Even in a fairly underpowered performance such as this one, its vivacity can't be dimmed.  Fortunately, it's new to the Proms, so something of its spirit might reach out to audiences who'd like to get to know it better. (well worth seeking out good performances)

Janáček's Glagolitic Mass has been done many times at the Proms, so whoever planned this programming might think it's OK to repeat the formula. At the Proms in recent years,  we've heard Boulez, Gergiev and Bělohlávek - all very different, each with something to say.  When Bělohlávek did it on the First Night of the Proms 2011, the performance was so intense that it seemed as if the roof might lift off the Royal Albert Hall. A pertinent observation, since "Glagolitic" masses were held in the open air, with trees instead of stone as buttresses, allowing large communities to come together. Janácek said: "My cathedral " was “the enormous grandeur of mountains beyond which stretched the open sky…...the scent of moist forests my incense”. Hence the idea of freedom and liberation, which is closer to Janácek's intentions than to a religious interpretation.  If anything, the Glagolitic Mass represents a tradition fiercely independent from the mainstream. The Glagolitic script dates from the 8th century, long before the Hapsburgs consolidated their grip on Bohemia, so it isn't about the Church so much as Janáček's faith in secular and national Resurrection.  Glagolitic Masses can be craggy, earthy, ferocious, almost anything but not lifeless.

With the forces on hand this should, in theory, have been a good performance. The BBC SO, the BBC Singers and BBC Chorus know the piece, and the soloists, Asmik Grigorian, Jennifer Johnston, Ladislav Elgr, and Jan Martiník - are all good, Martiník in particular for this repertoire.  Grigorian was another reason I was so keen to hear this - she was a sensational Salomé with Welser-Möst in Salzburg (read more HERE). But a performance needs to be more than a sum of its components.  The Úvod held together, though it's more impressive as a statement of intent, like the foundation stone of a great edifice.  The Kyrie can be overwhelming, the large chorus intoning the cries "Gospodi pomiluj!".  Elgr and Martiník's voices rang out, like prophets from the ancient past. Janáček referenced  the missionaries Cyril and Methodius, who brought Christianity to Slavic lands.  He also wrote : "I hear......in the soprano solo a maiden angel, in the chorus our people. The candles are high fir trees in the wood, lit up by stars; and somewhere in the ritual see a vision of the princely St Wenceslas" Grigorian did not disappoint ! Peter Holder, at the organ, captured the right sense of zany energy. His Varhany sólo (Postludium) was electrifying.  In the Slava (Gloria) the massed voices were suitably hushed, capturing  a sense of mystery, and the Věruju (Credo) and Agneče Božij (Agnus Dei), gave all the soloists a chance to show what they're made of.  But where was the grand design ? What was the underlying thrust? The Intrada, which can be an emphatic outburst, felt like an after-thought.

Zosha di Castri Long is the journey - short is the memory filled the slot assigned to "new music" at the start of every Proms season.  But a premiere doesn't always mean original.  This could have been commissioned to tick all the BBC boxes - big forces, lots happening to look at and admire, but rather studied and self conscious. Interestingb hat the press, cued by BBC PR, made much of the "historic" occasion", minimizing the rest of the performance.  Given that BBC Proms policy now seems driven by non-music values, and marketing hype (excruciating presentation), this whole First Night of the Proms 2019 probably went down well with the suits and their target audience, but doesn't bode well for music in the longer term. 

Polish Independence BBC SO - Elgar Paderewski Szymański Lutosławski

Celebrating Polish Independence Day in advance, Paderewski, Szymański and Lutosławski with the BBC Symphony Orchestra conducted by Michał Nesterowicz at the Barbican and on  BBC R3. To start, Edward Elgar's Polonia  op76 (1915), a statement of hope, written at a time when Poland didn't yet exist except as part of the Austrian and Russian Empires. It blends themes from Chopin and Paderewski in a mix of grand orchestral music, mazurkas and marches with quotations from Mazurek Dąbrowskiego, the Warszawianka and other Polish patriotic songs. Though Polonia might not be Elgar premier cru, it's a showpiece, good for occasions like this, reminding  us that the  connections between Britain and Poland go back a long way. In this wave of post-Brexit racism, we must recognise that Poles are not "the enemy" but very much part of the community.  Thousands of Poles escaped to Britain, either from pogroms in Russia or from other suppression, after 1914, after 1939 and since the fall of the Iron Curtain. Polish immigrants are the biggest European minority in this country, and form the backbone of the economy in all sectors.  British music has been enriched by Poland, not just through greats like Chopin and Liszt but by the integration of composers like Szymanowski,  Lutosławski, Panufnik and others into the DNA of modern British performance practice.
Elgar's Polonia was dedicated to Ignacy Jan Paderewski so fittingly, it was followed by Paderewski's Piano Concerto in A minor op 17, premiered in 1889 by Hans Richter, who was close to Elgar and to Parry.  The soloist here was Janina Fialkowska.  A dramatic opening gives way to an allegro at times expansive and serene, the piano's rippling figures complemented by emphatic chords in the orchestra.  The second movement is romantic, with  lovely parts for violin and cello. The finale is rousing.  Like the composer himself,  it's appealing, though maybe not material for virtuosic celebrities. Like  Polonia it is a gesture which needs to be heard.
A meatier second half, with Paweł Szymański (b 1954) Fourteen Points-Woodrow Wilson Overture,and the biggest modern Polish composer of all, Witold Lutosławski.  Szymański's piece, a new commission, is a meditation on the ideas in Woodrow Wilson's visons of a newe age in the aftermath othe old order.  The 13th section refers to the creation of an independent Polish nation.  This music is not literal by any means, taking themes and re-arranging them in more open-ended ways.  It is thoughtful music, not showy, but rewards attention for those with minds open to possibilities.  A good opening for Lutosławski's Symphony no 1 which evolved gradually in stages in wartime conditions.  During this period the whole world seemed in upheaval. The symphony feels like a search, exploring new territory, the first movement tense and hostile, even though it's marked allegro guiosto.   Despite the circumstances in which it was created, the symphony is clasically shaped in four movements, the orchestration precise and beautifully detailed. An excellent performance from Michał Nesterowicz and the BBCSO.  (please see here for my piece on Lutosławski's Derwid songs)

Light and illusion - First Night of the Proms 2018

The Proms at the Royal Albert Hall - brilliant photo by Daniel Curtis

An astonishing First Night of the Proms 2018 with 59 Productions, indubitably the stars of the second half of the evening, transforming the Royal Albert Hall into a pulsating blaze of coloured lights.  Fantastic theatre! As a community event,  it would be hard to beat, and it was great fun. The  young singers behind the orchestra will never forget the experience, and good for them, and neither will most of the audience. This is the sort of audacious flair that used to mark the BBC Proms in the Roger Wright era. This was a welcome change from the formulaic mindlessness that BBC Radio 3 increasingly descends to, where music is pushed aside in favour of everything else.  Has someone finally twigged that music is the goose that lays the golden egg ?  Starve it and you might as well succumb to Murdoch and Classic FM.
Anna Meredith's Five Telegrams was full of incident, the lights round the hall pulsating to big flashing chords and loud noises.  Sakari Oramo, with his customary good nature, gave the piece a good show, and the BBC SO seemed to be in party mode, so the performance was hugely enjoyable though I'm not convinced that it would have the same impact without the special effects it was created for.   Read more about it here.  Nonetheless, maybe at last there's someone behind the Proms who cares about music, as opposed to the tickboxes and targets management drones connect to.  The premise behind Meredith's Five Telegrams was the First World War which formulaic bots need to reference, willy nilly.  But the mind behind the programme was also musical.  
Before Five Telegrams, Ralph Vaughan Williams Towards the Unknown Region and Gustav Holst's  The Planets.  They're not connected just because they're part of the First World War theme show.  It's pure coincidence that they were written at that time. What they do represent is a change in musical thinking. "Darest thou, O Soul, Walk out with me towards the Unknown Region ?".  Quiet pizzicato footsteps  suggest tentative awakenings. Very quickly, though, the piece enters new territory. The boundaries of tonality start to stretch : Ravel and even Debussy seem to beckon Vaughan Williams forward. Though Charles Villiers Stanford is inevitably mentioned , RVW's true mentor would appear to be Hubert Parry, whose horizons were wider and more sophisticated.  Thus the music wells up with heartfelt new energy. "We float in Time and Space"   In the words of Walt Whitman, RVW seems to have found inspiration to head forth towards the future.
Holst's The Planets is good First Night material but, since it's ubiquitous, we might forget just how experimental it may have seemed when new.  Although the programmatic titles are so embedded in our reception, Holst initially planned to use non-descriptive titles. As has been said many times, Holst knew Schoenberg's Five Pieces for Orchestra, which Sir Henry Wood conducted at the Proms in 1912.  The Planets, while conceived on an opulent scale, isn't symphonic but composite, each section with distinctive character.  It's "modern" on its own terms.  Everyone loves Jupiter, but in many ways, Neptune is the most eclectic, gradually dissolving and disintegrating.  Oramo paced Neptune carefully, drawing out its exquisite textures so it seemed to hover in the air . "We float in Time and Space" all over again, without words.  A very refined, intelligent performance.  Familiar as the suite may be, Oramo wasn't doing routine  but seemed inspired.
Pulling this whole First Night together, Oliver Knussen's Flourish with Fireworks, in tribute to Knussen, whose death this week is a loss to British  and modern music on many levels. Ollie was a monumental figure in every way. As Pierre-Laurent Aimard, who knew him well, said, he  "was driven by the same need for artistic authenticity and never conceded to the easier world of ego and glitter. His astounding ear and acute understanding of works allowed him a control ranging from the smallest details to the main structure; his gesture was of exemplary thrift; his interpretations were models of clarity, deeply dramatic with warm concentration. His colossal erudition led him to make programming choices dependent on an original and very personal musical vision, nourished by an insatiable curiosity and never based on personal career goals, which he overlooked. A great servant of the music of his time, he influenced generations of young talents through his teaching, whether as composer or conductor. His humility and self-effacement in favour of others were a manifestation of his selflessness and generosity."  Knussen didn't write down all the music in his head, but he gave so much to others that his legacy will live on. He packed more into 66 years than some people would in several lifetimes.  Flourish with Fireworks is typical Knussen - lively and concise. It opens up possibilities. Therefore, a very appropriate complement to Vaughan Williams and Holst .

Ekho and Narcissist

It takes courage to pair Sibelius Luonnotar and Aare Merikanto's Ekho, as Sakari Oramo did with the BBC SO at the Barbican on 7/1/18.  Both pieces present fearsome technical challenges but Oramo and the BBCSO had a secret weapon in Anu Komsi, who can handle extremes of range and timbre, while also infusing her singing with warmth and meaning. Though Komsi sings with such assurance that she made the pieces flow with natural grace, they aren't at all easy; she's been singing them for a long time.  Experience shows ! This performance of Merikanto's Ekho was wonderful, much better than Komsi's recording with  Petri Sakari and the Turku Philharmonic. The BBCSO are a much more sophisticated orchestra, with a richer sound. And of course Sakari Oramo knows the singer and orchestra pretty well.   Since I've written about Luonnotar so many times over the years (Please read HERE) this is a good time to think about Ekho. 

After swimming in primeval oceans for 700 years (think amniotic fluid) Luonnotar called out, in agony to the god Ukko, who answered by sending a bird whose egg Luonnotar nurtured, from which the universe was born.  Ekho was a nymph, blessed with beauty of form and of voice.  But when she called out to Narcissus, he didn't care about anything but himself.  Although Merikanto's music seems lush - lots of glossy strings - it is also very much of its time.  Writing in 1922, Merikanto was well aware of the trends in European music around him. Ekho doesn't even pretend to be folkloric - it’s "modern" music, almost neo-classical, reflecting the clear sighted vision of a new world emerging from war.   Think of the clean lines of 1920's visual arts, and the gracious stylization of form that engendered.  The poem by Viekko Antero  Koskenniemi  (1885-1962) comes from the collection Elegioja.  In that context, Ekho is almost a New Woman, talented and emancipated   Lots of those in the 1920's, in Finland and everywhere else. Like many smart women, Ekho thinks she can reach out. But men like Narcissus could not care less.   

The sound of hunting horns and  ominous rumblings - Ekho is a nymph of the forest, but what,is her mission ?  Suddenly the line leaps upward "Narkissos, Narkissos — hu-huu, hu-huu! "  Almost a war cry. The orchestra rears up. Turbulence, then clearing away to quieter sounds, a pattern of call and non-response that repeats in different forms. Ekho calls again: "Narkissos, ma huudan, hu-huu, hu-huu!", the last word projected into the voice. Ekho is listening, but Narcissus isn't. Summer's ending (ie the end of fertility).  Komsi's voice lowers seductively , halo'd by strings, harp and melancholy violin, then rises again in a long, soaring arc. Near silence - you count the bars, listening and gradually, sounds return, shimmering like sound waves.  "Se mun kuoltuanikin soi ja soi" (It's my ringing and playing).  Liike an echo, the first line repeats, in muted form. "Koko yön minä yksin tanssinut oon ja kutsunut armasta karkeloon"  (all night, I danced alone). Dark sustained chords breaks.  Then silence.  Sibelius Luonnotar is grander, and more dramatic.  Merikanto's Ekho is compact, but just as tightly structured and haunting.  

I don't know who created the image above, but it's brilliant !  We do live in an age where reality doesn't penetrate the minds of folks like Narcissus. 

Oramo and Komsi - Sibelius 2, 7 and Luonnotar Barbican

Perhaps the most intriguing programme in the whole Sibelius series with Sakari Oramo and the BBC SO at the Barbican, London. Three stylistic breakthroughs - Sibelius Symphony no 2 and Symphony no 7  and Luonnotar, with coloratura assoluta Anu Komsi, whose range and vocal flexibility is well suited to the piece. Luonnotar is always a tour de force,  but Komsi topped it off with Aare Merikanto's Ekho, yet another vocal challenge. Pairing Luonnotar with Ekho was daring indeed. Though the two pieces complement each other well, they are tricky to programme together, given the technical difficulties in the voice parts. But this conductor, orchestra and soloist have worked together so often in this repertoire that they can pull the feat off, and well, too.  They have been busy in recent weeks, with the Sibelius series (see below for links to my reviews of other concerts), with  Soumi 100 and with the Esa-Pekka Salonen Total Immersion at the Barbican which coincided with Finnish Independence week, in which the Komsi twins sang Salonen's Wing to Wing.  A lot to take on board at one time! Luckily, the Salonen Total Immersion is being broadcast on BBC Radio 3 this week.  More about Salonen to come.

So hearing Oramo conduct the BBC SO  in early Sibelius (Symphony no 2), early middle Sibelius (Luonnotar) and late Sibelius (Symphony no 7) brings out the connections between them and throws into higher focus the overall traverse of Sibelius output.The year after Luonnotar, Sibelius was to explore ocean imagery again in The Oceanides, whose Finnish title is Aallottaret, or "Spirit of the Waves", just as Luonnotar was the Spirit of Nature, tossed by waves.  Luonnotar also marks a rebirth of a kind for Sibelius after the difficult period from which came the dark Symphony no 4. Mahler's works form a huge, coherent whole, but so too do the works of Sibelius when presented with the intelligence that Oramo has brought to this series. 

Luonnotar was the Spirit of Nature, Mother of the Seas, who existed before creation, floating alone in the universe before the worlds were made "in a solitude of ether". Descending to earth she swam in its primordial ocean for 700 years. Then a storm blows up and, in torment, she calls to the god Ukko for help. Out of the Void, a duck flies, looking for a place to nest. Luonnotar takes pity and raises her knee above the waters so the duck can nest and lay her eggs. But when the eggs hatch they emit great heat and Luonnotar flinches. The eggs are flown upwards and shatter, but the fragments become the skies, the yolk sunlight, the egg-white the moon, the mottled bits the stars.

The orchestra may play modern instruments and the soprano may wear an evening gown, but ideally they should convey the power of ancient, shamanistic incantation, as if by recreating by sound they are performing a ritual to release some kind of creative force. The Kalevala was sung in a unique metre, which shaped the runes and gave them character, so even if the words shifted from singer to singer, the impact would be similar. Sibelius does not replicate the metre though his phrases follow a peculiar, rhythmic phrasing that reflects runic chant. Instead we have Sibelius’s unique pulse. In my jogging days, I’d run listening to Night Ride and Sunrise, finding the swift, "driving" passages uncommonly close to heart and breathing rhythms. It felt very organic, as if the music sprang from deep within the body. This pulse underpins Luonnotar too, giving it a dynamism that propels it along. They contrast with the big swirling crescendos, walls of sonority, sometimes with glorious harp passages that evoke the swirling oceans.

But it is the voice part which is astounding. Technically this piece is a killer – there are leaps and drops of almost an octave within a single word. When Luonnotar calls out for help, her words are scored like strange, sudden swoops of unworldly sounds supposed to resound across the eternal emptiness. These hint at the wailing, keening style that Karelian singers used. This cannot be sung with any trace of conservatoire-trained artifice: the sounds are supposed to spring from primeval forces. After the duck approaches in a quite delightful passage of dancing notes, the goddess expresses agony for its predicament. Those cries of "Ei! Ei!" – and their echo – sound avant-garde even by modern standards. The breath control required for this must be formidable. Singing over the cataclysmic orchestral climax that builds up from "Tuuli kaatavi, tuuli kaatavi!" must be quite some challenge. The sonorous wall of sound Sibelius creates is like the tsunami described in the text, and the soprano is riding on its crest.

Luonnotar is a complex creature, godlike and childlike at the same time, strong enough to survive eons of floating in ravaged seas, yet gentle enough to cradle a hapless duck. The singer needs to convey that raw primal energy, yet also somehow show the kindness and humour. The sheer physical stamina of singing this tour de force probably accounts for its relative rarity on the concert platform. Luonnotar swam underwater for centuries, so a soprano attempting this must pray for "swimmer's lungs". The last passages in the piece are brooding, strangely shaped phrases which again seem to reflect runic chanting, as if the magical incantation is building up to fulfillment. And indeed, when the creation of the stars is revealed, the orchestra explodes in a burst of ecstasy. The singer recounts the wonder, with joy and amazement: "Tähiksi taivaale, ne tähiksi taivaale". ("They became the stars in the heavens!"). I can just imagine a singer eyes shining with excitement at this point - and with relief, too, that she’s survived! As Erik Tawaststjerna said, "the soprano line is built on the contrast between … the epic and narrative and the atmospheric and magical".

In his minimalist text, Sibelius doesn’t tell us that  in the Kalevala, Luonnotar goes on to carve out the oceans, bays and inlets and create the earth as we know it, or tell us that she became pregnant by the storm and gave birth later to the first man. But understanding this piece helps to understand Sibelius’s work and personality. Like the goddess, he was struggling with creative challenges and beset by self-doubt and worry. Perhaps through exploring the ancient symbolism of the Kalevala, he was able in some way to work out some ideas: in Luonnotar, you can hear echoes of the great blocks of sound and movement in the equally concise seventh symphony. 

In each concert in this Oramo/BBCSO Barbican series, other composers have been included for comparison and contrast.  Now, at the end of the run we're looking ahead to the future. Aare Merikanto (1893-1956) was the son of  Oscar Merikanto (1868-1924), also a composer and a contemporary of Sibelius.  Please read more HERE about mid 20th century Finnish music (Susanna Mälkki/Helsinki Philharmonic in December).  Oramo conducted Aare Merikanto's Ekho (1922), and Komsi sang.  But enough for now, I'm knackered.  I'll write about that tommorow .when I have more time. And here is my bit on Merikanto's Ekho, as promised !

Other concerts in the Oramo Sibelius series with the BBC SO at the Barbican:

Finland Awakes ! Finnish centenary celebration

Sibelius 4 and 6, Anders Hillborg

Sibelius 3 Ravel Franck and Schmitt

Sakari Oramo Sibelius 4 & 6, Anders Hillborg

Sakari Oramo, Lisa Batiashvili, Stockholm. (Harrison Parrott)

 Sakari Oramo and the BBC SO continued their current Barbican Sibelius series with Sibelius Symphonies no 4 and 6,  with Anders Hillborg's Violin Concerto no 2, with soloist Lisa Batiashvili.  Oramo conducted the world premiere last October with the Royal Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra.  These days, major premieres are often planned with numerous performances planned in advance, so the fact that the piece had been done ten times in 13 months means not a lot in itself.  But Hillborg's second Violin Concerto is exhilarating : definitely worth the exposure. 

The piece begins with a remarkable frenzy of fragmented sounds, dazzling brightly, then retreating into gentle murmur as the violin emerges with long, sensuous lines.  The introduction is heard again, in more sophisticated form, when Batiashvili plays a passage where the bow moves swiftly at high pitch.  Interesting things too, in the next development, where the orchestra defines percussive figures.  Batiashvili played a cadenza that seemed wild but disciplined at the same time. Oddly enough I imagined  ancient drummers seated on the earth supporting a dancer : artists from another time and place haunting the formality of a modern concert hall.  Then the piece really took off.  Traceries and intricate, inventive passions, counterpoint and symmetry : a very rich mix. Swathes of sound from Batiashvili's violin alternated with passages of fast paced virtuosity.  Eventually the piece reaches sublimation. The violin sings at top pitch, the lines growing longer and more mysterious. Towards the end the "ancient" rhythms return and the music hurtles forwards with an outburst of energy. The "drums" pound and the violin part swirls like a dervish, lines sliding and twirling. A finale that began suggesting elegy, but suddenly disappeared, like magic.

Oramo's choice of Sibelius's Sixth and Fourth Symphonies added context to Hillborg's second Violin Concerto.   After Sibelius's magnificent Symphony no 5, his Symphony no 6 in D minor op 104 (1923) comes as a bracing reparative. hence the famous analogy of fresh spring water as opposed to fancy cocktails.   While the vernal quality of Sibelius's Third symphony derives from Nature and the Finnish landscape, the purity of his Sixth Symphony connects to more abstract sources   Always  acutely aware of what was happening in the rest of Europe, Sibelius reacted by returning to a mode which had little obvious counterpart abroad.  In some ways, the Sixth is "about" music, finely distilled and unsullied. Hence the Dorian mode with its suggestions of ancient music, whether Finnish or otherwise, harking back to a kind of primeval consciousness.  The orchestration is simple - strings and woodwinds,  "allegro" in every sense.  Adapting the analogy of fresh water, the music flows freely, elements moving and combining like the passage of a stream bursting from a powerful source.  Depth builds up with darker sounds, setting the mood for the figure with which the second movement begins.  Purposeful rhythms, contrasts between expansive gestures and primal simplicity. The unusual combination of rolling timpani and woodwinds might also suggest inspiration from sources before modern time.  In the final movement, Oramo shaped the "reverential" theme on the strings so it felt like a heartfelt anthem. 

And so the programme ended by going backwards, so to speak, to Sibelius Symphony no 4 in A minor op 63,  to a point in the composer’s life when he was preoccupied with dark thoughts.  Like the Seveth Symphony, the Fourth is shockingly modern in the way it sets out ideas without sugar coating or excess.   The themes have a craggy, almost monumental quality ; Oramo sculpted the solidity so firmly that the cello and strings motif  seemed to rise like mists. Thunderous timpani, but fleeting, scurrying figures hurried towards the theme heralded by horn calls   What do those expansive gestures and the imagery of horns signify ? Are we in a clearing between emotional mountains ? Open textures contrast with tense, repeated moments. There's something feral here as if the music is finding its way like an untamed beast. Hence subdued tones, and searching lines.  In the final movement, the "mountains" loom upwards again, but the marking is Allegro.  The  motif for single violin suggests that small figures will not be crushed.  The rushing figures seemed brighter than before, lit by "bells" . Horns and winds together: not alone.  The last moments were like an anthem of defiance.

Hillborg, Batiashvili and Oramo at the premiere of Hillborg's Violin Concerto no 2 (Harrison Parrott)

Storgårds : Mahler 4, Boulanger Jolas Barbican

John Storgårds conducted the BBC SO at the Barbican in Mahler Symphony no 4, paired with short pieces by Lili Boulanger and Betsy Jolas. Lili Boulanger died aged only 24. How she would have developed had she lived longer, no-one will ever know. Boulanger's output isn't big enough to fully justify the posthumous reputation promoted by her sister Nadia. Nadia herself was so strong that the gap intensified between her students (largely English speakers) and those of Olivier Messiaen, whose students went on to very diverse careers, a divide still felt today. Eventually Nadia will be understood in context, and Lili appreciated on her own merits. D'un soir triste and  D'un matin de printemps, written towards the end of her life, are slight pieces but have charm. Perfectly apposite in relation to Mahler's Symphony no 4 with its evocation of souls whose voices were cut short before their time.

Unlike Lili Boulanger, Betsy Jolas has reached 91, and has a substantial output, primarily chamber, many miniatures.  Histoires Vraies (2015) is a relatively substantial piece: a concerto for two soloists,  Håkan Hardenberger and Roger Muraro, and orchestra. The title refers to "true stories", talks of ordinary life, hence the idea of two soloists in dialogue with each other and with the wider ensemble. The orchestra provides a chattering backdrop . Nice langorous lines from Hardenberger's trumpet, imaginative sparkle from Muraro's piano.  The overall effect is intimate, rather like overhearing a conversation in a busy boulevard café. Nothing radical whatsoever, and rather timeless: the world is going by, but we live on in the moment. Which, in itself, is no bad thing.

In London, we have four world-class orchestras and others in town and further north, plus numerous specialist ensembles of all kinds.  Plus of course, we regularly get most of the big European orchestras, who are within easy reach even when they don't play here live.  But we shouldn't take that luck for granted. Our "home band", the BBC Symphony Orchestra, is really very good: we just hear a lot of them and get blasé.  This Mahler 4 with John Storgårds surprised me. When the BBCSO are good, they're very, very good.

Of the four high-profile Mahler 4's in recent weeks (Gatti, Royal Concertgebouw Amsterdam; Mirga Gražinyte-Tyla, CBSO; and Jakub Hrůša, Czech Philharmonic Orchestra) (Please read my descriptions HERE HERE and HERE), four very different approaches.  All valid and enlightening. Storgårds brought out the pulsating energy in the first movement.  You could feel the horses pulling the sleighs. The snow doesn't hold them back, as they surge forward.  Vitality in this first movement is important because  it provides structural balance to the final movement.  Furthermore, it connects  physical life with the simple physical pleasures that the child delights in, even after death.   The resonance in the BBCSO strings a reminder ofv the darkness that is never far away even in this most sunlit of Mahler's symphonies.  That resonance came even more strongly to the fore in the second movement where the brasses and winds called sour warnings, and the First Violin  created the duality between the "earthly" violin and its "demonic" counterpart.  

MGM timpani in the finale of the third movement, followed by lustrous strings and harps. Cataclysm followed by repose, a transition that signifies renewal on a new plane.  The soprano, Susanna Hurrell, is pleasantly youthful. Light, bright voices here remind us that the child didn't live long enough to become fully formed. Thus the tragedy, as the orchestra strikes up, the BBCSO in full, vibrant flow. Hrůša's soprano, Marta Reichelova, is possibly even younger, but her cheeky enthusiasm created the part vividly. Gatti's soloist, Chen Reiss, is more experienced though rather neutral, but I liked the innocence of Hurrell.

Sakari Oramo Sibelius 3 Ravel Franck Schmitt

Sakari Oramo's saga through Sibelius with the BBC Symphony Orchestra at the Barbican London  got into stride with Sibelius Symphony no 3 op 52 (1907).  Sibelius symphonies we can hear any time, and Oramo's very, very good, so the challenge lies in programming. How do the combinations work to enhance Sibelius? In the first concert in this series, the answers were obvious - the perennial Sibelius 5 with Richard Strauss and Alban Berg.  In this second concert we heard Sibelius  with César Franck's Symphonic Variations, Ravel's Piano Concerto for the Left Hand (soloist Jean-Efflam Bavouzet)  and Florent
Schmitt's Symphony no 2 op 1957. Ostensibly a curious choice, but on reflection, rather interesting.
Sibelius Symphony no 3 isn't as omnipresent as Sibelius 5 and 7, both so remarkable that they are frequently recorded together, though less often performed together live :  an experience too overwhelming for either audience or orchestra.  Sibelius's Third, like his Sixth, is more rarified, almost more "Finlandia" than Finlandia (1899).  Its impulse is distinctively"Finnish"   But it was written long before Finland was free from Russia.  Thus the political and artistic need for a uniquely Finnish identity. The revival of interest in the Kalevala and in the heartlands of Karelia shaped Sibelius's artistic imagination.  In this third symphony, Sibelius engages with an aesthetic that seems inspired by open horizons, clean air and fresh springs flowing from melting ice, water, a landscape where people live close to Nature, uncorrupted by the excess of "civilization".  Hence the picture at left of Lake Keitele, by Sibelius's close friend Akseli Gallen-Kalleja, painted in 1905, and his painting Clouds above a Lake, above, from the same period.  Notice the almost abstraction, capturing essence with free spirited spontaneity. The complete opposite of 19th century over-elaborate excess. A similar aesthetic informed the Secession first in Munich, then Vienna, and influenced the Impressionists and Art Nouveau in France.

Sibelius Symphony no 3 is relatively short, three movements in which ideas are compressed with a clarity which even harks back to Classical Antiquity as defined by 18th century idealism.  The symphony begins with a theme which will later become almost a Sibelius signature - rushing, angular rhythms for strings, celli and basses lit by single calls from brass, leading passages of exquisite simplicity where individual, woodwinds sing.

Oramo defined the pace with vivid energy, so details shine. The suggestion of bells (on a cart?) , spiralling figures that fly like objects blown in a breeze.  Strong chords, before the music subsides into chorale-like serenity. The mood in the second movement is quieter and more mysterious. Single notes plucked with deliberate clarity, shimmering, dark hued strings, lit by single instrument figures dancing elusively. The flowing rhythms returned, more muted, but persistent.  Wonderful symmetry between the first two movements, elegantly  executed, which are in turn reflected in the final movement.  Edgy rushing rhythms resolve into firm blocks of sound then to a glorious coda which shone with positive affirmation.  Clarity over chaos,  multiple life forms operating in cohesion. Like Nature itself.

Thus the wisdom of pairing Sibelius 3 with César Franck's Symphonic Variations, where themes differ and vary yet hold together, supported by coherent logic.  Flowing energy in the performance too. In each concert in this series, a concertante piece, so this time one for piano, in Ravel's Piano Concerto for the Left Hand . Jean-Efflam Bavouzet is relatively new to the piece but played with great depth of feeling, which I appreciated, since the piece was written in response to tragedy. Paul Wittgenstein lost his right hand in war. His career would have ended were it not for friends like Ravel. (On the BBC rebroadcast, it was mentioned that Bavouzet's mother, who loved the piece, died a short while ago). It's a virtuoso piece which requires superb technique, proving that a good player can do more with one hand than some can do with two. Florent Schmitt's Symphony no 2 op 134 (1957).  received an infinitely better performance than it got from Leif Segestam. Oramo has clearly thought about the piece, analysing its merits, and the BBCSO is grande luxe compared to some of the orchestras who've done Schmitt.  (read my piece on Antony and Cleopatra here)  Schmitt's best works are those where florid colours conjure images of exotic luxury but the Symphony is lower key. It's by no means "old fashioned", since it reflects a lot of music from the 1930's to 50's and later. Glitter rather than 24K.  It's pleasant but without the inventive flair of Stravinsky or the panache of Korngold.  At the age of 87, Schmitt might have been enjoying a retrospective of his own, which is fair enough.

Coming up in the BBC SO Sibelius series :

29/11 Sibelius 6 & 4 with Anders Hillborg Violin Concerto

6/12 Sibelius 1, Press Celebrations and works for cello

6/1/18 Sibelius 2 & 7. Luonnotar (Anu Komsi) and Aare Merikanto Ekho

Hussite Hymns - Jakub Hrůša Bohemian Prom

At Prom 56, Jakub Hrůša conducted the BBC Symphony Orchestra in a programme on the theme of the Hussite Wars and their place in Bohemian culture - Smetana, Martinů, Dvořák, Janáček and Josef Suk. Pity the BBC publicity machine branded this  "The Bohemian Reformation", like Nigel Farage squealing "Independence Day" as if the fate of the nation was a movie.  The Hussite movement happened started a hundred years before the Luther Reformation. They were wiped out.  Jan Hus (1369-1416) was burnt at the stake and the religious ideas he espoused largely forgotten. But the movement became a cultural symbol, adapted to the growth of Czech identity. Hrůša's programme was much more than tub-thumping nationalism.  In any case, there's a lot more to national heritage than bombastic bullying. Hrůša's Prom was a sophisticated, musically literate  study of specific themes in Bohemian music history, and needs to be appreciated in musical terms.

Hrůša started with the Hussite hymn Ktož jsú boží bojovníci (Ye Who Are Warriors of God), the men of the BBC Singers singing without accompaniment.  Though we rarely hear the hymn as hymn, its tune is familiar.  Smetana used it in Má vlast, quoting it in the section Tábor which we heard here, the town of Tábor being a Hussite fortress.  Thus the quiet, tense introduction, developed through brass and timpani, which grows bolder as the hymn emerges.  Triumphant climaxes and the hymn theme surges. But as we know, the Hussites were annihilated.  Thus Blaník depicts the even earlier legend that St Wenceslaus, patron saint of Bohemia, will return to defend the nation.  Smetana, writing at a time when Bohemia was ruled by the Hapsburgs, drew connections between the tenth-century saint and the Hussites. The strong angular themes in Tábor return in even greater glory in Blaník: massive drum rolls and crashing cymbals

In 1938, Czechoslovakia was annexed by Germany, with the implicit approval of Britain.  Bohuslav Martinů's Polní mše, H. 279 Field Mass (1939) was written for Czech exiles fighting with the French against the Germans. Thus the strange instrumentation, with brass and percussion employed to suggest the idea of performance in battlefield conditions.  Drum rolls, marching rhythms,  trumpet calls and a chorus of male voices. But also piano and harmonium and a part for baritone soloist beyond the scope of an average amateur.  Fortunately, in Svatopluk Sem, we heard one of the most distinctive voices in the repertoire. Sem is a stalwart of the National Theatre in Prague, well known to British audiences for his work with Jiří Bělohlávek who transformed the way Czech music is heard in this country.  Sem delivered with great authority, imbuing the words with almost biblical portent.  His text is based on poetry by Jiří Mucha, who was soon to marry Vítezslava Kaprálová. (please read more about her here  Her Military Sinfonietta (1937) would have worked well in this programme, though it doesn't include a part for choir.

In Martinů's Field Mass, the choir acts as foil to the soloist, voices in hushed unison, mass (in every sense) supporting the individual.  Though their music is relatively straightforward Miserere, Kyrie and psalm, this simplicity enhances the idea of mutual support, reflecting the relationship betweenpiano with harmonium, voices and soloists surrounded by atmospheric percussion and brass.  The version we heard at this Prom is the new edition by Paul Wingfield.

Somewhat less spartan instrumentation for Dvořák's Hussite Overture O67 (1883) though the hymn-like purity of the anthem  rings through clearly. The rough hewn faith of the Hussites doesn't support exaggeration.  Full crescendos and running figures, (piccolo and flutes) flying free from the fierce "hammerblows"of the hymn.  A glowing finale, from the BBC SO in full flow.   The pounding rhythms of  the Hussite hymn come to the fore in the Song of the Hussites  from The Excursions of Mr. Brouček to the Moon and to the 15th Century   Here the reference to the hymn is used for satire, contrasting the  morality of the Hussites with the depravity of modern life, represented by the feckless, drunken Mr Brouček. To conclude this huge, ambitious programme,

Josef Suk's Prague op 26 (1904), in a tribute to Jiří Bělohlávek who made the BBC SO one of the finest Czech orchestras outside Czechia.  (Please read my tribute to  Bělohlávek with many links to his London performances of Czech repertoire. ).The same goes for the BBC Singers who sing Czech pretty well.  The piece was written at a dark time in Suk's life, after the death of his wife Ottilie and father-in-law Antonin Dvořàk. It connects to Suk's Asrael Symphony (op 27, 1905)  and even to The Ripening ( op 34, 1912-7).  All three pieces deal with death, made almost bearable by faith, despite extreme grief.In Suk's Prague, the Hussite hymn makes an appearance as a symbol of something that lives on beyond temporal restraints., Suk seems to be surveying the city he loved, contrasting its history of struggle with his present.  Perhaps, as he looked out on the castle, cathedral and the Rudolfinium, he could position his sorrow in a wider context. People die, but cultures remain.   That's why I feel so strongly that the term "Bohemian Reformation" is a crock. There''s a lot more to heritage than simplistic nationalism.  Hrůša conducted Suk's Prague with such intensity, that the performance eclipsed all else in an evening filled with high points. 

Jakub Hrůša's belated Proms debut but he is one of the most exciting conductors around, full of character and individuality.  Though he's young, he's extremely experienced, and at a high level. In the UK, he's conducted at Glyndebourne and with the BBC SO and the Philharmonia, where he becomes Chief Guest Conductor next season.  He is a natural in Czech repertoire, and a possible successor to Bělohlávek, whose memorial he conducted in Prague, but he's also very good in other material. Definitely a conductor to follow. 

Please also read my article Smetana's role in the modernization of China   and many other posts on Czech repertoire, film etc.

Inspirational Mahler Symphony no 2 Sakari Oramo BBC SO Prom

Prom 45 2017 - BBC SO, Sakari Oramo photo : BBC

Powerfully Inspired Mahler Symphony no 2 "The Resurrection", with Sakari Oramo and the BBC SO, soloists Elizabeth Watts and Elisabeth Kulman with the BBC Symphony Chorus and the Bach Choir,  Prom 45. Because we hear Oramo and the BBC SO so many times each year, we take them for granted.  But they are a formidably good band.  Yet here they surpassed even their normal high standards.  This was an extraordinarily moving Mahler 2. The performance was dedicated to the memory of Jiří Bělohlávek, the former Chief Conductor, who loved this orchestra and was loved by them in return.  Please read my piece Jiří Bělohlávek : a tribute to the innovator and to the man.  Bělohlávek last conducted the BBC SO a few weeks before his death, so this performance with Oramo felt unusually personal and sincere.  But it was also masterful, lively and spirited, with depth and insight, which is saying something,  since there are so many Mahler 2's around all the time, only the very finest, like this one, live on in the memory.
From the very first chords, it was clear that this would be nothing routine. The zing in the strings felt disturbing, even dangerous, for the symphony is a journey into unknown territory. Thus the ferocious tension, timpani, clashing cymbals and brass ablaze, alternating with long, keening string lines. reaching out into space.  Then into the funeral march with its steady tread, reminding us of humility. Life inevitably comes to an end, for all mankind, whatever their station.  But for a moment, we heard again the lyrical pastoral theme, like a distant memory.  This performance highlighted how the unrelenting march continued, quietly, in the background, despite the anguish around it.  Quiet, purposeful pizzicato, like footsteps, lead into savage brass climaxes, creating the sense of hard-won stages on a difficult ascent. It's interesting how Mahler contrasts powerful tutti with solo instruments: individuals clearly defined despite the overwhelming forces around them.  Yet again the march continued, the horns blowing eerily, full of incident and detail, but relentless, though the vigour with which Oramo marked the sudden, spiralling denouement showed such defiance that it felt as though the music was mocking death itself.
The Allegro maestoso harks back to happier times. It's warm hearted and human scaled (very Sakari Oramo). Delicate pizzicato footsteps and the ring of harps.  But repose doesn't last.  The third movement, marked 'In ruhig fließender Bewegung' flowed with vigorous expansiveness: no surprise that Luciano Berio used it in Sinfonia as a metaphor for life and for the continuation of creative imagination.  The BBC SO strings seemed to come alive : lissom playing, suggesting the fishes leaping out of water, their scales shining, unbothered by St Antonius's moralizing. "So there" shouted the timpani, for emphasis.  Again, Oramo marked the sudden denouement, from which sprang the anthem O Röschen rot!  Elisabeth Kullman's voice has a lovely, glowing timbre, well suited to expressing the light in Urlicht, for it is light that leads the soul onwards.
The brass fanfare was bright, too, but also sombre and quirky, almost like primeval instruments from ancient times.  Again the surging "footsteps", reinforced by lighter, dancing figures, before the fanfare returned.  The searching string chords, and wailing brass might suggest mourning, but they also mark the beginning of a new phase, as the march moved forward, purposefully. With a clatter of percussion and brass, and the crash of cymbals, the music rose to a glorious climax : woodwinds singing gleefully, the string lines expansive.  Have we reached a peak ? Again, Oramo highlighted the contrast between this glory and the massive, overpowering roll that follows, intense because it marks the Dies Irae, the Days of Wrath at the End of Time.  Now the march continued with tight but taut energy. Almost wild abandon, though the BBC SO players are far too good to lose momentum by not keeping together.  Yet again, the crescendi dissolved into pure, refined textures.   Penitent, reverent strokes of the harps, then the brass, from above and below, the latter earthier and more plaintive.  Two trumpets call out, stretching out into space, uniting Heaven and Earth. The woodwinds sang brightly, creating images of light and movement. 
The BBC Symphony Chorus and the Bach Choir  entered quietly, in hushed reverence. British choirs are astonishingly good, and we shouldn't take them for granted.  "Aufersteh'n, ja aufersteh'n Wirst du, Mein Staub,..."  Exceptionally lucid singing.  Trumpets called out, as if reaching beyond a horizon.  Just as the earthly and heavenly brass united,  Elisabeth Kulman and Elizabeth Watts sang together, the choruses encircling them like a halo of sound, joined later by high winds and strings.  Kulman sang "O Glaube" her voice resolute, "Du wardst nicht umsonst geboren! Hast nicht umsonst gelebt, gelitten!"   Being born means struggle, but life is not in vain.  This resolution - resurrection -  is, it has been reached by inner strength and determination.  That's when an orchestra as good as the BBC SO shows its mettle. Its technical excellence inspired by intense, personal committment wrought miracles tonight.