Turnage: Festen, ROHCG, 24/2/25

Director, Richard Jones; Set designer, Miriam Buether; Costume designer, Nicky Gillibrand; Lighting designer, Lucy Carter; Edward Gardner, conductor. Cast – Christian, Allan Clayton; Michael, Stéphane Degout; Helge, Gerald Finley; Else, Rosie Aldridge; Helena, Natalya Romaniw; Helmut. Thomas Oliemans; Grandma, Susan Bickley; Mette, Philippa Boyle; Gbatokai, Peter Brathwaite; Linda, Marta Fontanals-Simmons; Chef, Aled Hall; Lars, Julian Hubbard; Pia, Clare Presland; Grandpa, John Tomlinson; Christine, Ailish Tynan

 I have listened to very little of Turnage’s work – much less than I have for instance to Ades’. I have a recording of a large-scale orchestral work called Speranza, by the LSO, which I’ve found interesting and attractive but have had no encounter with his operas or other pieces. This set of first performances of Turnage’s new opera has a cast of many of the great and excellent of British singers, a very good conductor and director, and has received astonishingly positive reviews. So I went along to see this with a sense of anticipation rather than the usual feeling of dutifulness that attending new works normally involves. That sense of anticipation was shared, clearly, by many others in the audience- there was a real buzz to the pre-show conversation that you don’t often hear, a buzz strengthened by the distribution throughout the auditorium of invitation cards in Danish to Helge’s 60th birthday party, and a gaudy decoration plus a picture of Helge above the proscenium arch of the stage..

The work is relatively short – an hour and forty minutes – and without an interval. But it is one of the most intense experiences I have had in opera in a long while. The story is unsparingly grim – as mentioned, it’s Helge’s 60th birthday, and his three surviving children and spouses/partners/grandchildren all turn up with a cluster of other relatives (including Grandpa and Grandma) for a celebratory dinner in a big hotel. His other child, Linda, killed herself recently in the same hotel everyone is staying in. As his opening speech, requetyed by the toast master, , Christian recounts Helge raping his children and Helge’s wife Else being complicit in this.  He continues to try to make the guests confront the truth about Helge. Not believing him, Michael – his brother – and others lock him in the wine cellar to silence him. Michael leads the guests in a song insulting Helena’s boyfriend, Gbatokai. Helena then reads aloud to the guests a letter found in the dead Linda’s room which again alludes to Helge raping the children, and that she can’t live any longer with her memories. There is consternation, and Helge has to hide in the kitchen. Michael finds him and beats him up, seemingly leaving him for dead. Guests continue to party next door while Christian thinks about his dead sister., who appears before him The coda next morning has guests arriving for breakfast, greeting each other and Helge and his wife enter – no-one alludes to the event of the previous evening and at the end Christian is left alone on stage in a slumped heap.

This is truly an opera – not a play with music –and the alternating moods of the music and the varied forms of singing are essential to understanding what is going on. It is one of the most impressive new operas I have ever seen on its first run. There is quite a lot of Britten about it (the ‘good morning’ chorus, the orchestral interludes – themselves reflecting Wozzeck – and the sense at the end that nothing has changed as the Village/the family goes about its business, for instance) but not in any way that is derivative – just in a way that is similarly accessible, dramatically acute and very, very moving. The musical styles are varied – there is a rumbunctious conga, some beautifully moving quiet moments for Helena and the dead Linda, passionately sad music for the last interlude as a picture of 4 children grows ever larger on a screen, some comic choruses (the one about salmon v lobster soup and the Hellos /Good mornings), some slurring jazzy moments. There is a whole world of music here. If there is one moment I cherish from tonight’s memories it is of the dead Linda singing before the last prelude the words of Julian of Norwich – ‘all shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well’. I was in tears.

The production was very effective in moving a large chorus and a very large cast deftly around the stage. The chorus of family members was well characterised so that each seemed an individual, and there was little that looked artificial in the way they moved. The hotel reception area as in the photo doubled as the main dining area for speeches; there was then via dropped screens a split stage area appearing for scenes with individual characters and groupings  . Richard Jones I always find to be effective but this must be one of his best shows.

The super-star cast were all splendid – Allan Clayton excelling as Christian, Natalia Romaniw outstanding as Helena, Gerard Finlay smooth as Helge, Stéphane Degout a strong stage presence as Michael and John Tomlinson having the time of his life as Grandpa. And Ed Gardiner kept the orchestra taut and thrilling. This must be one of the very finest new operas of the last 25 years. It will surely have multiple productions in Europe and the US. I was very happy to see Turnage appear on stage at the end (see photo, with his trademark silly hat), hugely cheered by the packed) audience. I was amused to read that a few critics felt the music was too easy-on-the-ear and insufficiently ‘gritty’. What planet do these guys live on?

Wagner: Das Rheingold. Regents Opera, York Hall Bethnal Green: 23/2/25

Woglinde: Jillian Finnamore; Wellgunde: Justine Viani; Flosshilde: Mae Heydorn; Alberich: Oliver Gibbs;Wotan: Ralf Lukas; Fricka: Ingeborg Børch; Loge: James Schouten; Donner: Andrew Mayor; Freia: Charlotte Richardson; Froh: Calvin Lee; Mime: Holden Madagame; Fasolt: Henry Grant Kerswell; Fafner: Craig Lemont Walters; Erda: Mae Heydorn; Ben Woodward: Music Director and Conductor; Caroline Staunton: Director; CJ Heaver: Producer

 I have seen an in-the-round Rheingold once before, in July 2021 in Birmingham, Graham Vick’s posthumous production (see my blog on page 30), which was a powerful staging with a very focused ‘concept’ -a plutocratic Wotan and the Nibelungs as Deliveroo drivers. It had, I recall, an outstanding Loge and the CBSO in splendid form.

The two stand-out experiences for me about this performance were, as in Birmingham, the closeness of audience and stage, and the excellent performances of some of the singers. The fact that I was in Row D in the stalls meant I was able to see the slightest acting nuances of the singers, and I felt totally wrapped up in the immediacy of the drama. The time seemed to fly past. This to me is the most important experience of this production so far and allows one to forgive a range of things that don’t quite work or were off-piste for one reason or another. I was able to see and engage fully with Wotan’s agonised deliberations before giving back the Ring, be overwhelmed by the cleverness of Loge’s account of his travelling around the world searching for a substitute for Freia, and closely experience the smugness of Wotan at the beginning of Scene 2.

The following were absorbing singer/actors on the stage:

  • Pre-eminently Loge, one of the best portrayals I’ve seen, witty, mocking and biting, sharp, quick in movement. James Schouten was a real stand-out, and he has a powerful flexible voice as well as excellent stage presence.
  • Ralf Lukas’ was an introspective portrayal of Wotan which might have seemed under-powered in a bigger theatre but which was, close -up, intelligent and thought-through, finely sung, with excellent diction. He made you watch Wotan’s every movement, and every movement had a purpose
  • Henry Grant Kerswell was I think the best acted Fasolt I’ve ever seen, and his resonant and powerful voice suited the character well
  • Mae Heydorn has a beautiful voice and her Flosshilde and Erde were both very impressive – a really sonorous contralto
  • Oliver Gibbs as Alberich – his voice was apologised for – he was getting over a cold – but seemed nonetheless to sing strongly and sensitively, He was an excellent actor, with some boxing flourishes to honour the performing space, and gave a sense of both the evil and the vulnerability of Alberich

No-one else among the singers was less than good – all gave convincing accounts of their roles.

The production was on the whole very good at telling the story, and although not realistically done, it was perfectly clear what was happening when, for example, Alberich became dragon and toad. There was a spear and a ring – not to be taken for granted nowadays(!! Imaginative use was made of gold foil to cover Freia in Scene 4, as another example. Effective use was made of lighting at points like the covering of Freia and the appearance of the Rhinegold. The one thing in terms of people-handling which to me was problematic was the end of Scene 4, where most of the gods and Loge seemed to wander off in a desultory fashion, leaving Wotan to muse on his next steps. This just looked muddled and at odds with the music and stage directions.

There were some things I had a few issues with, but which should be seen in the context of the all I’ve said above. These were:

  • Design concept. The basic set-in-the-round was a series of plinths with, in Scene 1, sculptures and models on them. The Rhinegold seemed to be one of these models. The plinths (one review said they looked vaguely Speer like) were variously used also as benches, but on at least (I think) some of these boxes the sculptures remained throughout the performance, and Mime was handling with one of them in Scene 3 (significantly perhaps when he’s singing about how the Nibelungs used to create for their own pleasure). There’s something possibly here about how the ‘purity’ and joy of an original artistic image can be taken over and perverted by self-interested interpreters, how arts can be used for political ends but what exactly this has to do with Rhinegold is none too clear (although it’s something highly relevant to Wagner’s works -as such). We shall see how this develops. I was also not clear why Alberich should have ‘Gesamtkunstwerk’ tattooed on his back……
  • Costumes, although everyone understands there’s not funding for elaborate coordination, seemed a bit all over the place. Froh wore a clown’s suit, Donner a light blue suit, Wotan an ‘arty’-looking combination of cloak and scarf. The general effect was a bit messy, like costuming in our village pantomime where everyone is encouraged to bring along a costume relevant to their character without always thought as to the visual consequences.
  • The sound of the orchestra; obviously an orchestra of 23 or so is not going to sound like an orchestra of 90/100, and everyone understands there are going to be points when things just sound a little odd. And the reduction seemed, to an amateur like me , very clever and thought through – maybe 95% of the time I wasn’t aware of the reduction, and I also heard details sometimes – for instance in the accompaniment to the Rhinemaidens singing at the end – which I have never heard before. But I did wonder about the positioning of the orchestra – from where I sat, stalls right, it sounded distant at times even in the loudest moments. I wondered about whether placing the orchestra more centrally rather than at one end would have helped increase the volume -also whether it should have just subtly been amplified a bit at points, given the glorious sound close up of the voices, which could easily have coped with that..

Occasionally there were a few orchestral glitches, but I was impressed by the energy of the string playing and the indefatigable brass and woodwind. I also thought Ben Woodward had a real sense of the structure of the piece that allowed it to flow naturally – sometimes quite fast in Scenes 3 and 4. Yes, it’s a different experience from what the Kosky/Pappano Walkuere will be in May at ROHCG, and there is no real substitute for a Wagner orchestra at full-strength and ablaze. But this Regents Opera production is remarkably clear in pointing to the emotional and dramatic truths of Rheingold, and the parallels with what is happening in the world now are more pertinent than they have ever been. This seemed to me so much more emotionally powerful than a concert performance even with a full orchestra and famous singers.

Regents Opera Ring cycle – York Hall,  Bethnal Green  23/2/25 – 2/3/25

As various commentators have pointed out, Regents Opera should now be regarded as an opera company full stop, not a ‘fringe’ one, albeit a small company requiring some radical changes to be made in order to stage the Ring live before an audience. But The Ring is The Ring is The Ring and it is a remarkable achievement. York Hall in Bethnal Green, a legendary venue for British boxing, was chosen last year as the performance space, and The Ring is being performed there, in the round, twice, in an intimate and close-up experience for audiences, with many seats no further than 5 rows from the action on stage.  The Regents’ Ring is uncut and with a full cast but with a very reduced orchestra. The adaptation of Wagner’s enormous 90+ orchestra for The Ring down to a group of 23 musicians must have been a huge task, requiring, I am sure, hundreds of hours of detailed work by Ben Woodward, the conductor, in arranging it, and incredible stamina from the 23 musicians in performing it. 

This is therefore the kind of event it is very difficult to be impartial about in a review. As part of the Manchester Wagner Society, I interviewed both Ben Woodward (conductor) and Catherine Woodward (Brunnhilde) in Autumn 2024 on their forthcoming Ring. The whole cycle has been presented without any Arts Council money and has cost approx. £600,000 to put on. In a time of economic stagnation, and unwillingness to fund opera from public sources, the sort of energy the Woodwards and everyone else involved in this production has shown is astonishing and a remarkable exemplar to those struggling for the survival of this art form and these great works. Some may think this is the thin end of the wedge – an adaptation for a small orchestra will encourage the surviving publicly-funded opera companies to assume that private sector initiative can fill the gap they can no longer fund (there is a Grange Park Ring Cycle planned to kick off in 2026 under Antony Negus) ……..but then it is up to us as voters and members of political parties to make the case for public sector funding of great art, as in the original Keynesian vision, and to support the bridging of gaps in public appreciation of  works such as The Ring through making them available and (relatively) affordable 

The York Hall is a remarkable building – a leisure centre nowadays but, as above, a boxing venue also, with Tower Hamlets proudly emblazoned over the entrance and a series of rather murky decidedly functional areas leading to a large bar area and then to the auditorium – see below for photos of inside and outside

This is only the 7th Ring cycle I have seen – in the sense of experiencing all 4 music dramas in a short period of time – Bayreuth 1972, ENO 1973 and 1977, ROHCG 2012, Opera North 2016, and Bayreuth 2022. There is something about hearing these pieces in close proximity to one another that makes for a very special experience

Mozart, The Marriage of Figaro, ENO, 17/2/25

Ainārs Rubiķis, Conductor; Joe Hill-Gibbins, Director; Johannes Schütz, Set Designer; Astrid Klein,Costume Designer; Matthew Richardson, Lighting Designer.Cast: Mary Bevan,Susanna; David Ireland, Figaro; Neal Davies, Dr Bartolo; Rebecca Evans, Marcellina; Hanna Hipp, Cherubino; Hubert Francis, Don Basilio / Don Curzio; Nardus Williams, Countess Almaviva; Cody Quattlebaum, Count Almaviva; Trevor Eliot Bowes, Antonio; Ava Dodd, Barbarina

This was one of the best and most joyous productions and performances I have seen of The Marriage of Figaro. I have to say straight away that this impact can’t be entirely dissociated from the fact that I was at the show with my younger daughter who was listening to and seeing Figaro for the first time. Inevitably therefore you see and hear it through their eyes and ears as well as your own, and when it’s well received the reaction becomes your own too. It’s also true that I haven’t seen that many productions of the work – the ENO 70’s one with Mackerras, the ROHCG one in the 70’s directed by Peter Hall, the new-ish ROHCG McVicar one, Opera North just before lockdown and that’s probably about it (maybe also a Proms performance of a Glyndebourne production). But, even so, this production by Joe Hill-Gibbons had great virtues – the plot and actions were very clear, it was very funny in parts, the serious and moving aspects were well-handled and hearing it in English, you realise, does give it a different dimension – not least because the surtitles then have to follow exactly what is being said on stage, rather than give a rough approximation in translation, often leaving quite important details out. I understood tonight several aspects of the plot which had escaped me for years listening to it in Italian live and on disc, even with surtitles and translations. Musically, it was also very fine – after a scrambled overture, ridiculously fast, which had me fearing the worst, the conductor,  Ainārs Rubiķis was very flexible in his approach to the score – some numbers were even on the slow side. The clarity of the filigree of instruments playing in the scene where Susanna and the Countess are dressing up Cherubino is always a touchstone for me as to how the conductor handles the score, and Rubiķis passed with flying colours. Many other passages had the right lilt or bounce; I felt the Goldilocks approach to Mozart in evidence – not too fast, not too slow – with, for example, a beautiful account of the forgiveness of the Countess for the Count, which featured positively lush playing by the strings, glistening with appropriately Mozartian emotion. The orchestra got the biggest cheer of the evening, and the woodwind in particular played beautifully.

The design aspect of the production polarised the critics. Essentially what you have here is a white wall with four doors, which is on a powered platform that can take the wall up quite high above the stage, giving space underneath for various characters (for instance Susanna in Act 2 when she’s hearing the Count trying to get into the room with Cherubino inside, or for Cherubino to do his garden jump onto a trampoline). The wall can also be pushed back, to give an open space for performance in front of it – useful particularly in Act 4. But there are no pieces of furniture and scarcely any props. The wall can obviously be lit in different ways which reduces the starkness at times, but it is pretty bleak. The four doors are of course ideal for the comings and goings of characters in the plot and were often used to very amusing effect. Given the harshness and lack of clutter, I was intrigued about how the director and designer would handle the Act 4 subterfuge and impersonations – in fact, with Figaro lying downstage looking out at the audience, and a certain measure of dim lighting, it’s convincing. I did miss the bed covers or armchair which normally hides Cherubino in Act 1, though – having Cherubino hide behind the door didn’t always seem convincing. Another aspect of the way people were handled on stage was to have them use a jerky robotic-like movement at times, combined with freezing in positions at the end of a scene or aria. I’m not sure what that was about – some connection with commedia dell’arte came to mind but it didn’t seem to add much. Costumes were modern-ish, with one exception, though not quite contemporary, apart from the Count’s man bun – maybe 1970’s? The exception was Cherubino, who was dressed in vivid colours and shorts, with owlish glassed and ginger hair – the getup made him a figure of fun and in a way less human than the others, – and it left Cherubino looking pretty unmasculine right from the beginning. Jeremy Sams’ translation deserves a glowing mention – funny, pithy, managing rhymes for many of the arias, it had almost none of the toe-curling operatic English you used to see so much of on surtitles or as performed at the Coliseum. The one thing that really was a pity in the production was – perhaps unintentionally (and the ENO is not alone in this) – getting an audience laugh when the Count asks for forgiveness in Act 4.

There were no weak links in the cast, though as in other performances recently my auditory memory sometimes hears great figures of the past singing these roles as their successors perform. An interesting issue was that, musically, there was no vocal decoration in the big numbers – maybe it was thought to be too ‘operatic’ for an audience which did, as ENO would have hoped, have lots of people coming to the work new. Nardus Williams, tall, regal, was an excellent Countess – Dove Sono perhaps sung with more colour and deftness of touch than Porgi Amor – and she was also a good actor and team player who didn’t stand apart from the madcap stuff going on on stage. Mary Bevan was, as Susanna always is, in control at the centre of the madness and her big aria in Act 4 was beautifully delivered. Some critics were not that impressed by Cody Quattlebaum (great name!) as the Count but I found him impressive – a warm voice, agile acting and striking the right balance between being very unpleasant while not becoming a caricature. Hanna Hipp acted very well, and while her voice doesn’t have the creamy tone you ideally need for the role, or the ability to sing softly with great beauty, her performance was thoroughly satisfactory. Rebecca Evans made much more than usual of Marcellina -this was in its own way a star performance. About David Ireland as Figaro I felt more conflicted – he has a big, energetic stage presence, a resonant voice and excellent diction – but he just sounded, well, angry all the time – there was insufficient variation of tone, I think I mean………

Anyway, an excellent evening….now, onto the Regents Opera Ring next week.

Wagner, The Flying Dutchman. Opera North, Leeds Grand Theatre: 14/2/25

Robert Hayward, The Dutchman; Layla Claire, Senta; Thomas D. Hopkinson, Daland; Edgaras Montvidas, Erik / Steuermann; Molly Barker, Mary. Garry Walker, Conductor; Annabel Arden, Director; Joanna Parker; Set, Costume & Video Designer; Kevin Treacy, Lighting Designer

I have never in my life been to Leeds before, let alone the Grand Theatre….which is indeed Grand, almost seemingly Coliseum-like in appearance and proportions. I enjoyed my trip!

The basic concept in this new production – much commented on in reviews – is of the Dutchman and his crew as asylum seekers. While Mary, the spinning women (not that there’s any spinning going on here) and Senta are much as they are in other productions, Daland and his crew become Home Office border staff, with lanyards. There are aspects of the work which this approach  enhances – in particular the motivation of Senta, who is gripped with compassion for asylum seekers and whose obsession with the Dutchman is seen in that context. It allows a coup de theatre at the end, where Senta, rather than throwing herself off a cliff picks up oddments of refugee clothing and literally disappears into anonymity – her empathy is so complete she becomes a refugee herself. Each of the three Acts is prefaced by the recorded voice of an actual asylum seeker talking about some of their grim experiences, and this is very powerful. On the other hand, the Dutchman’s character is not really illuminated that much by the asylum seekers concept – and indeed this just seems inappropriate when he’s shoving jewellery into Daland’s capacious pockets. He is not seeking empathy but ‘redemption’ and a release from Satan’s curse, and that, as I’ve said before in this blog, is a hot potato area which directors are uncomfortable about addressing. The asylum seekers concept and the curse fundamentally don’t quite sit with each other. As for Daland’s crew, some of the nautical language can in fact sound like a metaphor for the impact of some of the asylum seekers’ data they’re examining -‘stormy weather, a ‘fair wind’ – but on the whole the music and a lot of the sailing terms make the concept a bit ridiculous. It was not quite clear what Mary and her followers were doing during the Spinning chorus but it could well have been sorting out second-hand clothes for asylum seekers or a charity shop, and this did support the director’s concept – on the other hand, the ghostly chorus, focused as it was on the curse, seemed utterly outside the asylum seeker paradigm, as did the Steersman in his Act 1 song. So the asylum seekers idea is not 100% successful or even a very good fit, and it is at its most awkward in Act 1. On the other hand, it certainly doesn’t get in the way of a very powerful performance of Acts 2 and 3 in this production and at times does illuminate them, and there are resonances in the text which reinforce on occasion the aptness of the concept.

The set was curious – in Acts 1 and 2 the set back cloth was black with two or three grey sail-like pieces of cloth suspended above the stage. There was then a long slightly raised platform upstage which served as a Home Office desk and the Steersman’s bed in Act 1. In Act 3 the essential setting was a bar with glittering lights and a sense of the border guards being quite well off. In all three Acts there were several bundles of what I assume were either asylum seekers’ clothes or perhaps detritus from the small boats, hanging down above the stage. There was extensive use of videos – one of the rolling sea during the Overture with ghostly presences imposed – maybe Senta, maybe asylum seekers; plus several in Act 3 and elsewhere which might have been raids on asylum seekers houses- it wasn’t very clear. The most impressive video was of sets of data constantly scrolling up and down for the Home Office in Act 1.

Musically and dramatically the performance was very strong and overall I enjoyed this far more than the ROHCG one a couple of years ago with Bryn Terfel. The production uses the original three Act version of the work and there are some minor differences from the more familiar later straight-through version used in Bayreuth and Covent Garden. Opera North used the version that ends with the ‘redemption’ theme. Layla Claire was outstanding as Senta. She’s one of those singing actors who automatically become the centre of attention when on stage – striking in appearance, young, she conveyed all of Senta’s obsession. Her crawl across Daland’s dining table towards the Dutchman was mesmerising, and her contribution in Act 3 was about the best I’ve heard live. Her voice was powerful when it needed to be – though maybe she couldn’t quite manage to sing some of her more lyrical phrases quietly or sensitively enough. Robert Hayward, a veteran of many Wagner performances over the last almost 40 years, handled ‘Die Frist ist Um’ very well – better than Terfel when i last heard him – with a commanding top note, and his, and Claire’s contributions were both outstanding in the Act 2 ‘duet’. In his final peroration he was again imposing and impressive in announcing his name. The director had the Dutchman making quite odd-looking somnambulist gestures when moving about that detracted from Hayward’s natural authority rather than the reverse. A plus point for both the Dutchman’s costume and what Senta put on in Act 2, particularly the ‘Wanderer’ like hats, gave them both a sense of otherness which I am sure Wagner wanted. Thomas D Hopkinson replaced Clive Bayley as Daland – sickness – and gave an effective performance. The Lithuanian tenor Edgaras Montvidas gave one of the most convincing and sympathetic portrayals of Erik I have ever seen, with a strong but sweet tenor voice – he very much wasn’t a wimp in this performance. The Opera North chorus were very impressive in the sheer volume they produced and their Act 3 contributions were tight and powerful. The Grand Theatre pit sound, from where I was sitting in the stalls, was oddly dead, and the orchestra occasionally had some wobbles, particularly the horns. Gary Walker’s conducting though was thoroughly supportive of the singers and gave an exciting pulse to the end of Act 2 and the rapidly developing drama of Act 3

LSO, Pappano; Barbican, 9/2/25

Maconchy Nocturne for Orchestra; Walton Cello Concerto; Vaughan Williams Symphony No 1, A Sea Symphony. London Symphony Orchestra, Sir Antonio Pappano conductor; Rebecca Gilliver cello; Masabane Cecilia Rangwanasha soprano; Will Liverman baritone, London Symphony Chorus

This was quite a generous programme time-wise – looking at the LSO;s 24/25 season overall I get the sense Tony Pappano likes big meaty programmes………I doubt if I’ve ever heard a note of Elizabeth Maconchy’s music, and I’ve heard the Walton Cello Concerto and the Sea Symphony just once each over the last 4 years or so since the end of lockdown. It was a well-planned programme too, each work in its own way offering an oblique (or not so oblique) commentary on a landscape (and with Maconchy a pupil of RVW) .

Elizabeth Maconchy wrote her Nocturne for Orchestra in 1950, around the mid-point of her career. It’s scored for a big orchestra which allowed for splashes of fully tonal sound in an impressionistic sort of way. The printed score is prefaced by a poem of Coleridge about the moon journeying through the landscape, and there is an arc shape to the work, which is initially tranquil, then becomes uneasy and disturbed , with a heavy tread from the basses, and at the end moves back into tranquillity. I found it quite appealing and would like to explore more of Maconchy’s music given the chance.

I hadn’t realised how ‘late’ Walton’s Cello Concerto was in his output – he composed it between February and October 1956, and it was his first major orchestral piece since the Violin Concerto of 1938–39. I have enjoyed listening to it before – particularly the Prokofiev-like opening and the first movement, the main theme of which returns at the end – and I like its sense of Mediterranean warmth and serenity, as well some of the old spikiness of the Walton of the 30’s, which makes an appearance in the second movement. As far as I could tell, Rebecca Gilliver, the LSO principal cellist, played it very well, and Pappano ensured the orchestra was well balanced in its accompaniment.

Listening to the Sea Symphony in the Barbican made me realise how wonderful the Albert Hall is for this sort of music. The RAH is in general terms an acoustic abomination, but it gives an expansiveness to big choral works (and Bruckner) which they benefit from. The dead acoustic of the Barbican, and the size of choir it can accommodate, really does not do such big works justice. I am convinced that the first movement  – which has the most magnificent choral passages – was played and sung better by Pappano’s performers tonight but I enjoyed Martin Brabbins conducting this movement at the Proms two years ago with the BBCSO far more simply because of the washes and waves (as it were) of sound. Nevertheless, though there wasn’t really the big enveloping of choral sound you need, Pappano’s team performed the first movement very well, with a lovely sweetness to the big tune on the strings at the beginning and crackling energy from everybody when the spray dashed and the wind piped and blew. Where the Barbican did come into its own was in offering me sufficient lighting in the auditorium to read the text of the last three movements. This has always been a bit of a one movement work for me – after the splendours of the opening movement I have tended to switch off. With the text in front of me, I was far more focused on those last three movements. For me, these were wonderfully performed – orchestra and choir seemed to mingle in sound in the second and fourth movements magically, and I love the theme in the third which sounds as though it comes straight out of the English Hymnal. The reflective nature of much of the music seemed to suit the choir well and there were some beautiful interplays between choir and orchestra. I understood the narrative of the 4th movement more clearly than I ever have before and Will Livermore and Masabane Cecilia Rangwanasha projected the text and led the last movement’s journey towards the unknown movingly and very beautifully  – in the first movement Ms Rangwanasha has the sort of voice than can sail over orchestra and choir thrillingly but Mr Livermore at times from where I was sitting sounded a bit overwhelmed. Occasionally I felt a bit queasy about the Whitman poetry, but it didn’t matter given the glorious music.

A friend of a friend was enthusing to me in the interval about Pappano’s VW5, performed last year – this Pappano VW cycle seems to be developing impressively. I’m cross I had to miss the 9th, which I have never heard live. Luckily.  I think they’re all being recorded 

Leonkoro Quartet; Stoller Hall, Manchester, 5/2/25

Haydn String Quartet, Op. 50 No. 5 ‘Dream’; Berg Lyric Suite for String Quartet; Ravel String Quartet Op. 35

This String Quartet was founded in Berlin in 2019 and in 2022 they were awarded first prize at the Wigmore Hall International String Quartet competition. The name means ‘Lionheart’ in Esperanto……..

This was a varied concert. The Quartet interestingly all stood to play apart from the cellist. This gave, I think, an extra zing particularly to the Ravel and Berg. I was also reminded what a nice hall the Stoller is and how good its acoustics are.

The highlight for me was the Ravel Quartet. I am sure I have got this in my CD or MP3 collection but have never consciously heard it before. It’s an early piece and clearly influenced by Debussy – but in the use of old modal folk song sounds it also seemed uncommonly akin to Vaughan Williams – I had not realised that RVW was actually older than Ravel when he studied with him before the First World War. Somehow I have never really got that enthused by Ravel – I like the two piano concertos, La Valse and Les Enfants et des Sortileges but Daphnis and Chloe leaves me a bit cold, I am afraid. Anyway it was good to find another Ravel work I liked, with its wistful first movement and quirky scherzo. The Quartet- not that I am very expert in comparing one quarter with another – seemed to have a very wide dynamic range and the ability to play softly yet distinctly together. I particularly enjoyed the work of the lower strings.

The Berg piece I found hard going. The violin concerto and Wozzeck both have stories with which to frame the 12 tone music and also use late Romantic tonal harmonies in a shadowy way at times – distant, through a glass darkly….. Adorno spoke of this piece as a latent opera – not so profound really given the title of the work….and indeed it was discovered 50 years ago that a secret coded theme in the music revealed the initials of Berg and  Hanna Fuchs Robettin, sister to Franz Werfel, Alma Mahler’s third husband, who had an affair together in the 20s. So this is also framed by a story – of an intense and doubtless unhappy affair (they were both married to someone else). But despite that correlative for the music I lost track of what was happening and I couldn’t sustain my interest. Perhaps I’ll give it another go….The Quartet played it well I thought, with a lot of passion

The Haydn quartet I thought was of course enjoyable but maybe a bit under characterised by the players. Overall I am pleased I went – all these works were new to me…….And the turn-out was good, with enthusiastic cheering at the end. The Quartet played a brief piece as an encore, a sardonic shorter version of La Valse, maybe by Ravel or ?Korngold.

Janacek, Jenufa: ROHCG, 23/1/25

Conductor, Jakub Hrůša; Jenůfa, Corinne Winters; Kostelničke a Buryjovka, Karita Mattila; Števa Buryja, Thomas Atkins; Laca Klemeň, Nicky Spence; Grandmother Buryjovka, Hanna Schwarz; Foreman, James Cleverton; Mayor, Jonathan Lemalu; Mayor’s Wife, Marie McLaughlin; Karolka, Valentina Puskás; Jana, Isabela Díaz
This is the 4th live performance I have heard of Jenufa in the last 4 years, and I am amazed I was 69 years old before I really understood what a great work it is. I saw this production in October 2021, when I queried some parts of the set design while enthusing about the musical aspects. It was much the same this time around. The wide-open set is excellent for producing unsettling phantasmagorical images on the back walls as in the silhouetted disapproving silent ladies of the second act or the cloudy images of tables and chairs of the third, but it had to be said the ENO’s claustrophobic set designs for their new production a year ago – all angles and points – seemed much more suited to plot and music. However, the personen regie of this Covent Garden production is excellent – never melodramatic, always seeming be truthful to what the music as well as the plot is saying. Such was its intensity and realism that someone in the Amphitheatre screamed when Laca slashed Jenufa across her cheek! The choral scenes with the folk music were expertly choreographed.

Musically the truly outstanding aspect of the performance was the orchestral playing conducted by Jakub Hrusa, the (from September) new musical director of ROHCG. The whole performance had more of a bounce, an energy, a swing to it – the brass sounded more edgy, the timpani louder, the woodwind more perky – than I’ve heard in other performances, while the solo violin and the full violin section at the end were sensationally passionate. ‘Idiomatic’ maybe sums it up in one sense but it just sounded more alive, more direct than how I’ve heard the work performed before. There seemed to be a bit of a love-in going on between the orchestra and Hrusa – they refused to stand up at the end and just sat applauding him……..

As in 2021, and with no diminution that I could hear in terms of vocal strength and characterisation, Karita Mattila was astonishing as the Kostelnička – an utterly gripping presence on stage and projecting her character’s good points (her love for Jenufa and her wish to see her happy) as well as her appalling judgement in killing the baby and subsequent remorse believably through her delivery of the music. Though perhaps without the full-on angst that Asmik Gregorian displayed in 2021, Corinne Winters was very good – her plight and her emotions completely believable. Nicky Spence repeated his appealing Laca from 2021 – I saw him sing Steva in the Rattle concert performance with the LSO maybe also a year ago, and he got more humorous swagger into the role than Thomas Atkins provided for this performance (but it was a fine performance – just not as intense as it could be, and with a voice maybe slightly on the small side for the house)

I can’t wait to hear The Excursions of Mr Broucek with Rattle and the LSO in the Spring……….Then it’s only ‘From the House of the Dead’ that I haven’t seen from Janacek’s operatic oeuvre (I believe I remember seeing Osud 20 years ago, coupled with Vaughan Williams Riders to the Sea at ENO, though I have no documentary evidence of this……..)

Mahler 2, Halle, Wong: Bridgewater Hall, 16/1/25

Kahchun Wong conductor, Masabane Cecilia Rangwanasha soprano, Sarah Connolly mezzo-soprano, Hallé Choir, Hallé Youth Choir: Mahler Symphony No.2, ‘Resurrection’

I first heard Mahler 2 live in 1968, with Haitink, and have been to many fine performances since – it’s a work that seems to bring out the best in performers and, really, I can say hand on heart I’ve never heard an indifferent performance. It brings out the audiences too, as a ‘big’ occasion, and the Bridgewater Hall (unusually) was completely sold out for this concert. I went to a pre-concert talk and, when the speaker asked how many people either didn’t know the work or had never heard it live before, a surprisingly large number of people put up their hands. That was gratifying to see and I don’t think the audience – familiar or unfamiliar with the work – would have been disappointed in what they heard this evening– this was another extremely fine performance of Mahler 2.  Indeed I know they weren’t, as, at the end, with one accord, everyone rose to their feet and started cheering…….This is pretty unusual for the Bridgewater Hall where normally a more phlegmatic approach prevails. The Halle’s Facebook page overflowed with enthusiastic comments the following morning.

One thing that’s becoming clear about Kahchun Wong as a conductor is his interest in shaping orchestral seating to fit the sound-world of each work. Here, as they were in Mahler 1 – but not Bruckner 9 – the violins were split. The harp was given a very prominent position centre-stage unusually. Double basses were over to the side – I think in the Mahler 1 they were at the centre in the rear.

As with the Bruckner 9 Wong conducted in October, there was an inclination in his performance towards broad tempi where justified- e.g in the resplendent brass chorales of the finale and the final choral peroration (which was glorious) as well as also the second and third movements (in Urlicht he was, relatively speaking, brisk). Although it is a bit difficult to separate out work that the conductor has done with the orchestra from the acoustic properties of the hall, what was also noticeable was the clarity of  the orchestral sound  – the split violins and the prominent position of the harp all emphasised this clarity, but in general I heard numerous details I hadn’t heard before such that, particularly in the second movement, the sound had a polyphonic element at times; you heard two different strands of melody occupying the same space with more clarity than you sometimes do.

The orchestra and Mr Wong built up very effectively to the big climaxes – things weren’t over-driven or over- emphasised too early. The climax of revulsion towards the end of the third movement and the climax after all the marching of the dead in the last movement were particularly finely done. Tempi were flexible- parts of the first movement were quite fast, the second was deliciously relaxed and, as mentioned already, slowish. I have to say I got a bit nervous (page 35 of my blog recounts what happened in late May 2019 at the last Halle rendition of Mahler 2) as the chorus surged towards the final full shout of ‘Auferstehn’ where there is a sudden diminuendo and the performance in 2019 collapsed for maybe 3-4 seconds, but Wong and the choral forces handled it magnificently – Wong’s hand shot out to the sopranos telling them exactly what to do.

Throughout the Halle sounded wonderful – no glitches, sweet-sounding strings, some excellent trumpet and flute-playing….The final orchestral blaze with splendidly crashing gongs and the RLPO’s ‘Forever Bells’ was as good as I’ve ever heard. Though the choral forces don’t have much time singing, what they do sing has to be utterly together and overwhelming – which it was . Neither of the two distinguished soloists sounded quite ethereal enough in the finale but were perfectly satisfactory

There was a forest of microphones on stage  – it looked like either they were being used to record the performance by the BBC or the Halle were planning to issue a recording of the performance. Either way, I’d love to hear it again

Brahms, LSO, Rattle: Barbican, 9/1/25

Boulez,  Éclat; George Benjamin, Interludes and Aria from Lessons in Love and Violence (world premiere); Brahms Symphony No 4. London Symphony Orchestra, Sir Simon Rattle conductor;  Barbara Hannigan soprano

It was nice to be back in a concert hall after 4 weeks with no live music. This was not a very generous concert, time-wise [though see below] but the content was in prospect fascinating – George Benjamin is a composer whose works, particularly his operas, have completely passed me by and which I was interested to hear, while it is years since I sat through a Boulez piece live. Rattle’s Brahms with the BPO was in my experience always a bit over-curated (I’ve heard him conduct Symphonies 2 and 3 with them) and so I was wondering how he might fare with the LSO…………

Once again – I really must remember this the next time I book at the Barbican – I found myself, though in Row D, about 5 feet from the orchestra, though more over to the left than at La Rondine, This didn’t matter so much in the Boulez piece which only features a couple of violins. I have to say I didn’t make much progress with the Boulez. I get the general principle – Eclats = splinters, so notes as it were breaking down into shards of colour, echoing and distorting. But why it should engage me for more than a minute or so I couldn’t quite make out. The piece works by splitting the 15 or so musicians into groups of blown. struck and plucked/strung instruments, but, to be frank, the sonorities were not that interesting, at least to my ears. Others in the audience seemed to be enjoying the piece more than I did, so I withdrew mentally in some bemusement.

The George Benjamin piece – Interludes and Aria from ‘Lessons in Love and Violence” – was much more approachable and easier to get into, in an expressionist Wozzeck-y sort of a way. It’s an orchestral piece drawn from his latest opera (about Edward II and Isabella – or Isabel here) with an aria set in the middle. The orchestral music sounded appropriate to the fairly grim story – agonised and intense; the interludes didn’t seem that varied, but then they are primarily in the opera providing commentary on and supporting/underlining the story, so it’s unsurprising that I didn’t know always what to make of them out of context. But I found myself always attentive and never mind-wandering. The amazingly gifted Barbara Hannigan was commanding as Isabel, in an impressive, strange aria about the beauty of a pearl and its radiance being akin to music, which was gripping. I made a note to myself that I must make more of an effort to see one or more of Benjamin’s operas, which have been highly praised by critics. Composer and librettist came on stage after the performance to enthusiastic applause.

Rattle always sounds to me more committed, also more relaxed, in his LSO performances of various works than he did with the Berlin Phil, and I found the Brahms 4 impressive. In fact, I couldn’t think of another one over the years which was better performed and conducted than this one – I must have seen Sir Adrian Boult, renowned for his Brahms, conduct this work at least once at the Proms but have no memory of it .

There seemed to me to be several reasons for why this performance of Rattle/LSO was so good:

•     The playing of the orchestra was superb. Sitting so near to the first violins, the unanimity, the sense of one instrument, was overwhelming. The horns and flutes in particular shone in their various big moments. The LSO sounded in this music – and this must be at least partly to do with Rattle – much more like one of the top-ranking German orchestras than British orchestras normally do

•     Rattle’s reading, with the orchestra, was based on well-judged tempi that never felt they were distorting the music. The first theme of the first movement was played with light and colour, speeds subtly changing, and the three first movement’s themes all related well to each other. The beautiful second theme of the slow movement – the reprise is one of my favourite moments in the whole symphonic canon-  was wonderfully warmly played yet with that Brahmsian ache , that sense of regret and unfulfillment. The third movement wasn’t taken too fast, so that it didn’t seem a rather oddly extrovert companion to the surrounding music. The finale was again well-judged in tempi so that the various elements hung together (it can feel a bit episodic) and the impact was tough, inexorable and sad. I really couldn’t think of how this work could be better performed.

There was a speech from Rattle that seemed to acknowledge the concert had offered slightly short measure and so unusually there was an encore – an F major Brahms Hungarian dance, a lovely end to the concert.