Dvořák Requiem, Jakub Hrůša in memoriam Jiří Bělohlávek

Antonín Dvořák Requiem op.89 (1890) with Jakub Hrůša conducting the Prague Philharmonic Orchestra.  The Requiem was one of the last concerts Jiří Bělohlávek conducted before his death and he had beeen planning to record it as part of his outstanding series for Decca, (much of this reviewed by me - please see links below). Hrůša, a close associate of Bělohlávek, conducted the Czech Philharmonic's memorial to Bělohlávek in September 2017 (Dvořák Stabat Mater). The performance of Dvořák Requiem on this recording was made in Spetember 2017 at the start of the Dvořák Festival in Prague, also in honour of Bělohlávek. Although Bělohlávek himself was only able to record the Dvořák Biblical Songs op 99 (with another Bělohlávek regular, Jan Martinik) this recording is effectively a monument to Bělohlávek, and a worthy successor to the rest of the Decca series. Hrůša's Requiem, capturing the full emotional intensity of that memorial concert in the Rudolfinium, Prague, where everyone on the platform and in the audience had personal knowledge of Bělohlávek and what he meant.

Requiems commemorate the dead, and for those who believe, encapsulate the central tenet of Christianity. Dvořák's religious beliefs were profound, shaping his Requiem as a testament of faith. The Kyrie, by far the longest part of the first section, is a funeral march, the pace measured and dignified.The strings create a reverential hush,  but one lit by luminous, transcendental light. This reflects the text :  "Requiem aeternum dona eis, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis". The promise of eternal light, even in the depths of anguish.  "Kyrie eleison" thus has context.  In the second Requiem aeternum, a solo emerges and the pace picks up : lines pulsate, as if in anticipation.  

The Dies Irae marks a transition : powerful chords underline a sense of violent change. A trumpet calls forth, the "tuba mirum spargens sonum" whose baleful sound heralds the Day of Wrath that marks the End of Time and the mass resurrection of all who have died. Thus the tenor part, with its prayer-like intonation, and the fierce outbursts from choir and orchestra. The plaintive Quid sum miser states that mankind is weak but salvation lies through "Rex tremendae majestis". With the Recordare, Dvořák's identity re-asserts itself in the loosely Bohemian personality inn the orchestral line, here highlighted by the sensitivity of Hrůša and this orchestra who understand it so well. The soloists, Michael Spyres, Jan Martinik, Ailyn Pérez and Christianne Stotjin form an ensemble like a garland.  With the Confutatis maledictus and the Lacyrmosa, (particularly beautiful singing and playing) this constant interplay of turbulence and tenderness creates inner momentum, intensifying a sense of forward thrust. 

This underlines the structure of this Requiem, the first part building up to the second.  With the Offertum, the bass part, haloed by harps and choir, suggests depth and profundity, the female soloists and tenor enhancing this new mood of confidence. "Sed signifer sanctus Michael reporesentet eas in lucern sanctum". Vigorous rhythms replace the funereal tread of the first Requiem Aeterum. the trumpet now introduces a Hostias where the soloists ring out pure and the chorus (Prague Philharmonic Choir) very well parted. With the Sanctus, yet another change. As this Requiem reaches its conclusion, its spirit transforms.  Even the Pie Jesu is affirmative, multiple voices together welcoming Eternal Rest.  This Agnus Dei is a wonder, the luminous textures of the first Requiem Aeternum now illuminating the singing and playing transcedent glory.  Delicately paced diminuendos create the image of heavenly peace. Truly "lux perpetua luceat eis". And truly Hrůša's Dvořák Requiem truly establishes the significance of the piece in our appreciation of the composer himself. 

Dvořák's Biblical Songs op 103 enhance the impact of the Requiem. The songs set texts from the Book of Psalms. The vocal line is dignified, even austere, emphasizing the enduring power of these verses which have inspired people for thousands of years. The orchestral line is restrained, letting the voice ring out with Biblical portent. Bělohlávek and the Czech Philharmonic have the Dvořák idiom in their genes, bringing out the distinctive rhythms and character, which enlivens this performance without dominating. I'm very much taken with Jan Martinik, whose voice has natural richness and colour, and delivers with understated power. He worked very closely with Bělohlávek and the Národní divadlo and regularly featured in Bělohlávek's numerous concerts in London. Definitely a recommended recording, even though there is much competition. 

In this performance of Dvořák's Te Deum op 99 recorded by Hrůša in December 2018, the brass are bright and assertive, the rhythms confident and distinctively idiomatic. There are echoes of the composer's ninth symphony, but it is essentially a celebratory showpiece for large orchestra and massed voices, and presented here with great verve. The baritone is Svatopluk Sem, another Bělohlávek favourite and Národní divadlo regular, and the soprano is Kateřina Kněžíkov. Much is made of the high profile premiere in 1892, but the sad truth is that Dvořák was never paid.  When a cheque finally arrived, it failed to clear.  Oddly enough that fits in with the idea of a Requiem. No matter what worldly status might bring, at the end we all end up the same so what you believe might make a difference.

Please also see more about the Bělohlávek Decca series

Monumental Josef Suk : Asrael Symphony 

Janacek Glagolitic Mass, Sinfonietta

Life-affirming Smetana Ma Vlast

Dvorak Stabat Mater

Gloriously idiomatic ! Jakub Hrůša, Bamberg Symphoniker - Dvořák,Smetana Má vlast

Jakub Hrůša, Bmberger Symphoniker.  photo: Roger Thonas

The real First Night of the Proms 2019, for music lovers, Prom 2 with the Bamberger Symphoniker (Bamberg Symphonic Orchestra) conducted by Jakub Hrůša in Antonín Dvořák Violin concerto in A minor op 53 (1883), soloist Joshua Bell, and Bedřich Smetana Má vlast.  At the start of this year's Prague Spring Festival,  always opened with Má vlast - Hrůša led the Bambergers in a rousing performance at the Smetana Hall. Not all Má vlast have been performed on happy occasions.  (Please read more here). If troubled times loom over Europe again, we need to honour the power of music to express national identity in a healthy, non-belligerent form.  

"Bohemian Rhapsody" is a silly title, which trivializes the strong-minded individualism that has shaped Czech history and music. Dvořák's Violin concerto doesn't follow rules. An emphatic introduction from the orchestra, from which the soloist almost immediately takes equal command. Dvořák's themes are strongly defined - nothing timid here. The freedom of the violin line is thus built on firm foundations. The themes are endlessly varied, always inventive, always adventurous, The warmth of Bell's tone enhanced the sense of freshness. Thus the dumka theme in the Adagio felt  poignant, a reflection perhaps on things past, (complete with the calls of hunting horns), before the Finale, in which the energy of the first movement returned resurgent. Hrůša, the Bambergers and Bell captured the sense of perpetual momentum that so often surfaces in Dvořák and, indeed, much music influenced by folk idioms, shaped as they are by the change of seasons on rural life, and the sturdiness of peasant character.  Renewal, regrowth - might this be what Dvořák was "really" writing about ?

The Royal Albert Hall is far larger than the Smetana Hall in Prague, but this added dimensuon to the rich, dark timbre that's often been associated with the Bamberger Symphoniker. In his three years at the helm, Hrůša has restored the Bamberger's distinctive style. How wonderful it is to hear such inspirational, committed musicianship.  Every player is of such a high standard that even small details give pleasure. Hrůša sets the tone straight away with Vyšehrad, the bedrock on which Má vlast is built. This refers to the castle on an outcrop on the river, reputedly the original settlement of the Bohemian people. The harps, positioned in pair on opposite sides of the orchestra, to emphasize their different functions, sounded beautifully liquid, suggesting the flow of the river, the source of fertility and life. Their music also references the instrument of an ancient bard who, in legend, played on the river's edge.  As the pace picks up, the river reaches full flow, the Bambergers responding to Hrůša, playing with idiomatic ebullience. Pure-toned, rustling strings,  surging torrents in the orchestra, played almost at breakneck speed, but meticulously defined.

Though each of the six symphonic poems that form Má vlast are unique, Hrůša never let slip the sense of architecture that is essential for coherent performance.  In Vlatava, the flow is lighter, more transparent, suggesting that the river (for which read, the nation) is constantly refreshed from mountain sources, growing in strength and volume as they pass through the land. Horns are heard, evoking forests, mountains, a population living connected to Nature. forests. The suggestions of dance created a sense of circular, swirling movement.  Hrůša understands the purpose behind the turbulence Smetana builds into this music: dance is energy, a metaphor for life and growth. The section Šárka is mythic and Z českých luhů a hájů (From Bohemia's Woods and Fields) is descriptive, but in musical terms these serve to enrich the saga, much in the way that a river is fed from different streams and different sources.

In Tábor and Blaník, the depth of the Bamberg sound truly pays off.  The Bambergers may not be a Czech orchestra but with Hrůša, they understand what Má vlast means and why it matters, better than some. Tábor was a Hussite fortress, under siege and eventually defeated in violent massacres.  Thus the quiet, tense introduction, developed through brass and timpani, which grows bolder as the hymn emerges.  This is the Hussite anthem Ktož jsú boží bojovníci (Ye Who Are Warriors of God).  (Please read more here about Hrůša's perceptive views on the way the Hussite hymn has influenced Bohemian music ).  Massive, angular chords loom upwards, suggesting danger, and determined defiance.  The rocky fastness of Vyšehrad again, now called on in more danergous times. The Hussites may be no more, yet their spirit, like the spirit of the bard and of Šárka, remains steadfast.
As Tábor draws to a close, quieter chords glow, like embers in ash.  The buzz of strings and celli, intensified the sense of urgency,  rushing "footsteps" and angular chords, suggesting a population in upheaval, the horn and military pipes suggestions of war. 

In Blaník, there is a reference to St Wenceslaus, patron saint of Bohemia, who lived long before the Hussites, whom legend says. will return to save the nation in its hour of need.  Smetana was writing at a time when the Hapsburgs ruled: not quite as extreme asituation as 1938, 1948 or 1968, but still at a time of occupation.  Thus the riotous, lively finale suggests the spirit of freedom the river and its history represent will live again, joyful and revitalized. At the end, Hrůša shapes the majestic main theme again, so vividly that it seems that the spirit of the fortress in Vyšehrad stands eternally behind the Czech people, and indeed, all people who care about freedom and heritage. 
 
A demanding programme, and one which required almost superhuman stamina from the players as well as from the audience. But so worthwhile! Two encores, the Polka and the Furiant from Smetana's The Bartered Bride.  More circular dances ! not just because they're fun, but because they, too, show  the source of vigour from which Smetana drew inspiration.  This gloriously idiomatic  Prom 2 with Hrůša and the Bambergers is one that will live on in memory. 

 

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. 

Monumental Josef Suk : Asrael Symphony, Jiří Bělohlávek, Czech Philharmonic Orchestra

The Czech Philharmonic Orchestra's tribute to Jiří Bělohlávek continues with Josef Suk's Asrael. a symphony for large orchestra in C minor, Op. 27 (1905-6) and Pohádka, Op. 16 (Fairy Tale). Bělohlávek conducted the Asrael symphony many times and recorded it at least twice,with the Czech Philharmonic in 1992 and with the BBC Symphony Orchestra at the Prague Spring Festival in 2008. This latest release was recorded at the Rudolfinium, Prague, in October 2014.  This Pohádka comes from a performance in October 2015. These give us Bělohlávek's most recent, and probably most mature takes on the music of Josef Suk, overshadowed to some extent in the west by Antonin Dvořàk and later by Leoš Janáček. As Bělohlávek demonstrates, Suk's music is distinctive and original, with great character.  Hopefully, the Czech Philharmonic will have in its archives tapes of Suk's Zrání, (The Ripening) op 34 (which Bělohlávek recorded with the BBC SO) since it is a companion piece to Asrael.

Antonin Dvořàk, Suk's father-in-law and mentor, died in May 1904  after which Suk began writing the symphony. In July 1905, Suk's wife, Ottilie, died, aged only 27,  shortly after the birth of their son. Asrael was a way in which Suk sought to exorcise the shock of losing the two people dearest to him by challenging trauma through music. "Such a misfortune either destroys a man or brings to the surface all the powers dormant in him", he wrote, "Music saved me."

The symphony is built on two huge sections like the pillars of a monument.  This architecture is paramount. The first two movements, both andantes, represent Dvořàk, while the last two movements, both adagios, represent Ottilie.  A vivace forms a bridge between the first "pillar"  and the second.  Bělohlávek's definition of this structure intensifies impact, enhancing the emotional depth of the piece.  The first andante, begins mutely, as if the orchestra were numbed by grief.  Muffled timpani give way to strings, lines initially jagged but gradually absorbed by expansive developments involving full orchestra, which blaze into passionate crescendo before the poignant diminuendo.  The second andante, more austere and restrained, is shaped with deliberate purpoise. Individual isntruments - winds, trumpets, celli, bassoons, basses - lament against a chorus of strings. Every voice counts, as if the orchestra were singing a Requiem.  In the vivace, Bělohlávek's tempi are swft, emphasizing vitality, so the chill that sets in midway marks a turning point.  The vivace itself mirrors the two "pillars", the first part remembering past happiness, the second a reminder that loss cannot be reversed. When the pace picks up,  it is propelled by urgent momentum before it is cut off abruptly.

The second "pillar", written after the death of Ottilie, balances the first "pillar".  While the andantes that went before were solemn, the adagios that follow are gentler, reflecting the different personalities of Ottilie and her father.  Again, Bělohlávek emphasizes the symmetry in the structure. The first adagio, like the second andante, is restrained, mournful winds calling over a backdrop of low-timbred strings.   The solo violin melody may represent Suk himself, who was an accomplished violinist, as his grandson, the second Josef Suk, would become. It is answered by celli, possibly sugggesting a dialogue between Suk and his departed wife. Gradually the orchestra falls quiet, celli and violin singing together in intimate harmony. The second adagio, marked maestoso, reflects the andante sostenuto with which the symphony began.  Again, Bělohlávek captures the forward momentum beneath the turbulence.  After a brief respite, when the celli and violins interact one last time, the pace resumes with even greater force. Woodwinds pull the movement forward, answered by harps.  Only now do the big brass return, softened by winds, celli and horns. A melody on alto flute is answered by bass flute : warm, bright sounds rising heavenwards as the symphony reaches its conclusion. The mood is elegaic, comforting rather than strident.  In the Bible, Asrael is the Angel of Death, but that's not solely negative, the implication being  that the dead are beyond suffering, "happy with God".

Suk's Pohádka, (Fairy Tale), op. 16 (1899-1900, rev 1912) is a suite based on incidental music Suk wrote for a play about mythological lovers, Radúz and Mahulena. The first movement depicts an idyllic setting : an extended violin melody suggests pastoral bliss. The two inner movements contrast. In the first intermezzo, the lovers play with peacocks and swans, but in the second,the strings inject a note of foreboding, extended by low-timbred brass and winds, suggesting a funeral march.  Luckily,  love breaks the curse and the lovers are restored. The score harks back to Smetana and folkloric tradition, with a glaze of romantic colou. A lovely part for the violin leader. 

Semyon Bychkov : Czech Philharmonic Orchestra international tour, London

Is the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra entering a new era ?  In London at the start of a new international tour,  Semyon Bychkov, new Chief Conductor, led the Czech Philharmonic in a concert featuring Smetana and Dvořák, with Alisa Weilerstein. This concert was very high profile indeed, attended by the great and the good, as if it were a state occasion, markingb the 100th anniversary of Independence. And indeed it was, since the Czech Philharmonic is unique, with a distinctive persona.  Part of the reason it is so unusual is because its traditions are rooted in Czech culture, from which Czech music has grown, as if language translates into music. The orchestra doesn't frequently tour : if you want to hear them other than on recordings or broadcast, you need to go to the Rudolfinium,  and absorb the whole context.  This, of course, isn't always practical,  and in a digital age, any orchestra's potential audience is world-wide.  So it's logical that the Czech Philharmonic should be reaching out.  Before Bychkov was appointed last year, the announcement stated that the choice would depend on "publiku, nahrávacím společnostem, zahraničním pořadatelům i k ministerstvu kultury".ie the public, recording companies, foreign organizations and The Ministry of Culture. Perfectly valid, since Czech culture and music is a vital part of world heritage.  The question is how this will affect the orchestra's core values and artistic soul. Whatever model the Czech Philharmonic adopts for its outreach should, accordingly, be individual, rather than borrowing from what might work for other orchestras. What we love about the Czech Philharmonic is the very fact that it is not polished or celebrity-focussed. The market should rise to its standards, not the other way around.

Britain embraced Czech music very early on. In 1884, Dvořák himself conducted his Stabat Mater and Symphony no 6 at the Three Choirs Festival. Janáček visited London in 1926, and re-dedicated his Sinfonietta in honour of Rosa Newmarch.  Only ten years later Vítězslava Kaprálová, aged only 22, was invited to London to conduct her own Military Sinfonietta with the BBC Symphony Orchestra, a work which pays direct homage to Janáček, at a time when Czechoslovakia was being threatened by the Nazi regime. The bonds between Czechslovakia and British culture grow deep.  So it was a surprise that the start of this tour should take place in the Duke's Hall at the Royal Academy of Music, with a capacity of only 350, rather than, say, the Royal Festival Hall which seats 3000.  In the US, the Czech Phil is playing Carnegie Hall.  Nonetheless it was an opportunity for students of the RAM to join the Czech Phil on stage and play together : symbolic and educational value, reflecting Bychkov's position as Professor of Conducting, which he takes so seriously that he's conducted the RAM orchestra at the RFH. Thus a suitably festive Overture to Bedřich Smetana's Bartered Bride joyously free.
Bychkov began the Czech Philharmonic's 2018-2019 season in Prague with Antonín Dvořák's Symphony no 7 in D minor op 70, paired with Luciano Berio's Sinfonia but for the start of this tour, complemented it with Dvořák's Cello Concerto in B minor, Op 104 with soloist Alisa Weilerstein, who shot to fame when Daniel Barenboim chose her when he returned to Elgar's Cello Concerto, so closely connected to Jacqueline du Pré.  She's more mature now, and brings that greater refinement to Dvořák : well shaped legato, at turns sensuous and demure, well integrated with the orchestra around her.  The orchestra, though, stole the show, playing with the distinctive timbre that is their trademark : horns that call and breathe without being brassy,  strings that swell and vibrate with genuine emotion, winds that sing as freshly as forces of Nature.  The Adagio seemed to glow, the restraint of the cello enriched by the fullness in the orchestra, but the Finale impressed because it was so thoughtfully shaped.  

A rewarding Dvořák Symphony no 7 in D minor op 70. Again, the characteristic richness and depth of the Czech Philharmoniuc came to the fore : the idiom is in their DNA so to speak. Thoughg this is sometimes called the "London" symphony its impulses are altogether more personal. Interpretation grows through an understanding of the composer and his work as a whole.  Thus the Allegro maestoso unfolded purposefully, its stately progress defined with assurance. Dark as this symphony may be, it's clear-sighted, the destination never in doubt.  A heartfelt coda.  The Hussite hymn theme echoed in the second movement was subtle. It doesn't need over-statement, but it informs the Scherzo that follows the lyrical moments between.  The motif that resembles dance wasn't frivolous, but an acknowledgement of the rondo-like tightness with which the symphony as a whole is constructed.    A very strong Finale, arrived at through an understanding of the structural logic.

Dvořák Festival Prague Stabat Mater - Opolais Kurukova Samek René Pape

Dvořák Stabat Mater, Prague  photo: Petra Hajska

Dvořák Stabat Mater keynote of the 2017 Dvořák Festival at the Rudolfinium, Prague. Emmanuele Villaume conducted the PKF Philharmonia, Prague, with the Czech Philharmonic Choir, Brno (concertmaster Petr Fila) and soloists Christine Opolais, Jana Kurucová, Richard Samek and René Pape. Outstanding singing - even better than on the recent recording where Jiří Bělohlávek conducted the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra and Prague Philharmonic Choir. (read more here)  Bělohlávek  founded the PKF Philharmonia Prague in 1992 after he left the Czech Philharmonic The two orchestras thus had parallel lives.  Bělohlávek never really left the Czech Philharmonic, and became Chief Conductor again in 2010, heralding a new golden age for Czech repertoire, both in Czechia and in the UK.  The PKF Philharmonia Prague continues to thrive.Bělohlávek remained Conductor Laureate. The PKF has a slightly different profile and leaner, lighter sound.  But both orchestras honour Antonín Dvořák, whose statue stands facing the Rudolfinium as if he were a guiding spirit.  

The surging, swelling motifs in the first movement set the affirmative tone. Though the term Stabat Mater refers to the Virgin's Mary's grief as a mother on the death of her son, in theological terms it's a contemplation on faith.  Dvořák's Stabat Mater is sorrowful, but ultimately uplifting: the devout believe in the resurrection of the soul.  Thus the surging thrust that runs through the piece, the choir entering with "Stabat Mater!" in hushed tones.  While Bělohlávek shaped the pulse so profoundly that it resonated like the rhythms of a human body, Vuillame has the edge with far better singers. Richard Samek, the tenor, was superb.  He impressed in   Bělohlávek''s Dvořák Requiem earlier this year (read more here)r   His voice has a Helden ring, yet conveys depth and tragedy : when he sang Dalibor in 2015, he created the complexity in the character.  (read more here). Samek's voice was well complemented by that of Kristine Opolais.  She's a brilliant Rusalka, the silvery clarity of her timbre enriched by tenderness and sensitivity.  The women she portrays in her roles end up suffering.  An inspired choice for a cantata about the Virgin Mary, whose son must die for the good of mankind.  .  
Further depth was supplied by the richness of the voices of Jana Kurucová and René Pape.  Kurucová is relatively young, but interesting, while Pape is of course a mega star: luxury casting for a cantata. He's magnificent, the authority in his singing adding depth to all around him.  This Stabat Mater is worth hearing for him alone, he's so good.   Excellent balance between the four soloists, and between the soloists and male and female voices.  The Czech Philharmonic Choir of Brno are very good indeed.  Bělohlávek's Dvořák Stabat Mater is better orchestrally and the singing was fine, but the singing in this performance is in a different league, making this a Stabat Mater to remember.   "Amen ! Amen !" the choirs and soloists sang in multi-layered filigree, while the textures in the orchestra softened to rapturous wonder. 

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.

Monumental Dvořák:Stabat Mater Bělohlávek Czech Philharmonic Orchestra

The spirit of Jiří Bělohlávek, who died on 31st May, hangs over this new release of Dvořák Stabat Mater, though this recording was made in April 2016.  The piece was one of Bělohlávek's favourites,  and was played in his honour at the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra's memorial to him at the Rudolfinium, Prague, last Sunday. Although Bělohlávek made at least three recordings of this cantata, this performance reflects a lifetime's devotion to Dvořák and to the cause of Czech music.  It is a monument,  profound and greatly moving.  

"Stabat Mater" refers to the image of Mary, contemplating  Jesus, dying on the Cross.  Intense anguish, yet also reverence,  The introduction to the long first movement begins with strings, winds and horns, their lines ascending heavenwards. The theme "Stabat Mater" emerges in the orchestra at an early stage, before the voices join in. The pulse suggests the pulse of a human body. Yet, despite the intense anguish of grieving, the movement is serene.Almost from the outset, we have been reminded of resurrection, the triumph of eternal life over death. Thus the repeating ebb and flow in the music suggests a process of gradual movement.  Structurally, the Cantata resembles a kind of sculpture, the long and important first movement providing a foundation for the nine subsequent movements, the last reflecting the first on a smaller scale.  This important first movement provides the foundation for the other nine shorter movements.  Dvořák, who was devout, may also have had in mind the Novena sequences of prayers said in private silence, often devoted to the Virgin Mary Thus the fundamental mood of this piece is devotional, even serene. We all know the Pietà of Michelangelo, and how the cool, pure strength of marble forms a bedrock over which fine details can be carved.  Bělohlávek's approach was sculptural, in the sense that he showed how form and structure expressed meaning.  Beautiful playing from the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra, who have this music's soul.  Monumental, yes, but very personal and moving.

The Rudolfinium, empty after Bělohlávek's memorial

These firm foundations illuminated the voices. Michael Spyres's tenor rang like a clarion : "Stabat Mater, dolorosa", soon joined by the womanly voices of Eri Nakamura and Elisabeth Kulmann.  Jongmin Park's bass added burnished ballast.  Gradually then the quartet and choir sections give way to more defined sections for choir or choir and soloists. The Prague Philharmonic Choir are excellent - a pity that Bělohlávek could not have brought them to London, though our own BBC Singers and Symphony Chorus are superb.  In the final movement, though, all voices are united, the orchestra with them.  "Quando corpus morietor, Fac, ut animae donetur, Paradisi gloria!". the chorale "Amen" a garland of glory.  Yet note the ending, where solo instruments again ascend upwards, the last "Amen" glowing with warmth.

Please see my tribute to Bělohlávek here with lots of links. 

Jiří Bělohlávek : tribute to the innovator and to the man

Jiří Bělohlávek, conducting Dvořák's Requiem in Prague, April, 2017

Jiří Bělohlávek died last night. He was only 71,  but such was his stature that his death feels like the end of an era. Indeed, he transformed the whole way Czech music is heard, and revealed the treasures of Czech repertoire to the world.  He was also a gentleman, with charisma and integrity.  Even though he didn't speak much English when he was appointed as Chief Conductor of the BBC Symphony Orchestra in 2005, he communicated his enthusiasm so effectively the BBC SO grew close to him.  As Chief of the BBC SO,  he had to give the traditional speech at the Last Night of the Proms., which he did three times. At first, he read from a script, but by 2012, he was so "at home" that he joked, ad libbed and interacted with the audience, like we were all part of a family. In retrospect, he seemed unwell, even then.

In the intervening years, Bělohlávek's bouffant mane disappeared, and he grew thin.  His pugnacious body language  gave way to frailty.  Yet his travails seemed to galvanize his musicianship.  On April 13th this year, he conducted Dvořák's Requiem with the BBC SO at the Barbican (read my review here).  He seemed fatigued, perhaps because he'd conducted it in Prague a few days before.  Yet he  was putting very deep feeling into the performance, so much so that the intensity was almost too hard to take.  Emotional truth is sometimes hard to take. Once the immediate impact  subsided I kept thinking and thinking about the music itself, and its meaning. That, not technical polish nor received tradition, is the sign of a truly great artist.  Everyone knows the recording with Karel Ancerl, but Bělohlávek reached into the true soul of the music   Last week, one of my friends had a presentiment  and checked Bělohlávek's schedule, to find that he'd cancelled concerts in May.  So perhaps that Dvořák's Requiem was Bělohlávek's farewell, though no-one quite expected it, a farewell to his two favourite orchestras and to audience who had grown to love him as if he were a personal friend. 

Through him, the BBC SO, the Barbican and London connected with the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra and with the National Theatre of Prague.  Bělohlávek reintroduced Czech opera and vocal music to Britain in Czech, revealing the pugnacious, vibrant quality of the original language, so essential to proper, idiomatic performance. This matters, since Britain was receptive to Czech music very early on.  Dvořák and Janáček wrote masterpieces for British audiences. Even Kaprálová premiered her work in London, where her friend and colleague Rafael Kubelik conducted at the Royal Opera House.  Britain discovered Czech music long before Mackerras, and rediscovered it again with  Bělohlávek  Who knows what might have happened had the communists not taken Czechoslovakia, forcing Kubelik into exile?  Read more HERE about  Bělohlávek's early career. Though Bělohlávek was assistant  to Vaclav Neumann, in many ways he was Kubelik's true heir. And Ancerl's, too, for that matter.

For more detail about a fraction of Bělohlávek's concerts in recent years 

Autumn Elegy: Mahler Das Lied von der Erde
Janáček : The Makropulos Affair Prom
Janáček Jenůfa Royal Festival Hall
Czech Philharmonic 120th anniversary concert, Prague
Smetana Dalibor : BBCSO Barbican
Dvořák The Jacobin 2012
Janáček Glagolitic Mass Prom
Mahler 8
Martinů Juliette, Magdalena Kožená
Janáček  : The Excursions of Mr Brouček
Janáček : Osud

Dvořák Requiem : Jiří Bělohlávek, BBCSO Barbican

Jiří Bělohlávek

Antonín Dvořák Requiem op.89 (1890) with Jiří Bělohlávek, greatly loved Conductor Laureate of the BBC Symphony Orchestra, at the Barbican Hall, London.  Bělohlávek has done more than anyone else to promote idiomatic Czech repertoire in the UK, bringing outstanding performances of Janáček, Smetana, Dvořák, Suk, Martinů, and others, often with singers from  the Prague National Theatre.  Over the years, his bushy mane has faded, but his passionate spirit remains undaunted   If anything, his artistic stature has grown. This Requiem, with its understated, unflashy assurance, was very moving. (Later, I thought "Humbled in the presence of God", for Requiems represent the Catholic Funeral Mass.  If you're not humbled when you're dead, what the point?)

Bělohlávek's Requiem was authentic Dvořák, sincere, honest and firm of purpose. Thus the quiet, understated introduction, from which the voices of singers rose in hushed tones: "Requiem aeternam", eternal rest.  Large forces, yet great purity.  Bělohlávek defined the underlying pulse - quiet but steady.  The pulse grew stronger, and the pace, but still the textures were clear, the woodwind flourishes well defined  against the solemn progressions.  From this,  Kateřina Kněžíková's soprano rang out beautifully, bright at first then descending to  a rich, almost mezzo lustre, preparing us for the Dies Irae, where the pulse in the orchestra quickens and explodes in dramatic angular blocks. The voices of the choir took up the alarum before once again descending into silence.

Requiems are, by nature, a series of set pieces, but Dvořák builds alternating contrasts so deftly into this work that the flow is almost seamless. The trumpets call ("Tuba mirum spargens sonum") bassoons adding depth, muffled drum strokes maintaining pulse.Soloists alternate with istruments: Catherine Wyn-Rogers. James Platt and Richard Samek, particularly impressive.  From the tumult of the Days of Wrath to the purity of the Recordare, Jesu pie, where the voices of the four soloists intertwined.  Many churches have traditions of part song. Platt, being a bass, not a baritone, sang with a gravity that reminded me of gospel styles in black communities.  In 1890. Dvořák was yet to hear gospel music in America, but the rhythms of "Inter oves, locium pratesta" prepared him intuitively to respond.  Yet Dvořák quickly returns to more conventional large-scale ensemble, with the Lacrimosa,which ended  with dramatic flourish.

In the Second Part, The BBC Symphony Chorus responded to the livelier writing with alacrity : nice interplay between women's voices and men's. Very punchy playing from the BBC SO. Yet again, Dvořák changes tack for contrast. In the Hostias, austere winds and bassoons alternated with voices, and the chorus were hushed again.  The woodwind flourishes heard earlier return, garlanding the soprano.  Amid the jubilation of the Sanctus, simplicity resurfaced when Samek sang the words "Benedictus", preparing the way for the short Pie Jesu, where the silence of "eternal rest" is gently remembered, evoked in the fragile but lovely flute figures.  The steady pulse of the beginning returned like a heartbeat, but calmer now, in peace.  The Agnus Dei, and the Requiem ended in translucent calm.