Mozart String Quartet no 16 K428; Janacek String Quartet no 2 (Intimate Letters); Beethoven String Quarter Op 59 no 2 (Razoumovsky): Marmen Quartet

The quartet was founded in 2013 by Johannes Marmen and Ricky Gore, violinists at the Royal College of Music in London. In 2019 they won the Grand Prize at the Bordeaux International String Quartet Competition, and in the same year they won joint First Prize at the Banff International String Quartet Competition, where they were also awarded the Haydn and Canadian Commission prizes.

This was a hugely enjoyable concert of works which I have not heard live before. In each case, hearing the work live offered a special opportunity to concentrate and listen intently in a way that’s not always easy to do listening at home. There was also a real sense of rapport with the audience – the Marmen Quartet were mentored in their early stages by Peter Cropper, the founder of Music in the Round, and the audience welcomed them enthusiastically…..and with justification. I liked the way in which the sound world of the quartet varied from work to work – hugely passionate in the Janacek but also with the ‘Cunning Little Vixen-like sounds of the natural world beautifully evoked in the slow movement, more restrained in the Mozart, and with a fierce energy in the Beethoven. At times I thought there was a slight hesitancy about some of the voices, and an occasional lack of balance, but that could just be where I was sitting and my relative unfamiliarity with these works.

The strangest in many ways was the Mozart, with elements of the ‘galant’ style abounding, but at the same time some extraordinary harmonies at the beginning of the work, and dark twists and turns in the substantial first movement.

But I also loved the refreshing unpredictability of the Janacek, and this was a real find for me – I have a recording but have never listened to it properly. The Beethoven I know better and this was a good, maybe not overly ‘spiritual’ reading – the beautiful arpeggio passages in the slow movement seemed slightly matter-of-fact, for instance.

But all in all I am very glad I made the effort to go to this, despite heavy rain and, on my part, a wracking cough (happily subdued during the concert)

Sadly I missed the Opera North production of Ariadne auf Nacos last Friday in Salford due to a combination of heavy snow and cancelled trains. ‘But the trains unexpectedly seemed to be running today between two rail strike days. So in addition to doing various things in Sheffield I managed to get to this excellent lunchtime recital by two members of Ensemble 360, Gemma Rosefield and Tim Horton.

Cello Sonatas No. 1 and No. 2, Op. 5, are two sonatas for cello and piano written by Beethoven in 1796, while he was in Berlin. Tim Horton told us that these sonatas are the first examples of fully developed cello sonatas in Western classical music. There is no precedent – it’s the first time the cello was not used simply as a continuo instrument in a sonata. In the early 19th century, sonatas for piano and instrument were usually advertised as piano sonatas with instrumental accompaniment. Beethoven’s first violin sonatas, for instance, were published as “sonatas for piano with accompaniment by the violin.” The cello sonata was especially prone to this as it grew out of sonatas for continuo; as late as the beginning of the 19th century it was still common for the cello in cello sonatas to double the left hand of the piano part, with the piano right hand playing obligato figurations and melodies. Tim explained how Beethoven cleverly distinguishes the two instruments when one – the piano – is prone to play much more loudly than the other. Nearly always, he says, the two instruments are playing in different registers – when one is playing high, the -other will be in the middle or low – etc
It is fascinating to hear how, though composed at the start of Beethoven’s career, very different these sonatas sound to chamber music works by Haydn or Mozart. Without descending into clichéd comments about Beethoven’s personality, there is definitely something gruff and edgy about them and the cellist played up to this in some of her playing in quite amusing ways, particularly in the first sonata. There is also energy and drive, as well as occasional moments of stillness and peace. But grace and poise wouldn’t particularly strike one as descriptive terms for these works.
They’re not works I know at all. It was lovely to be able to sit with them for a lunchtime hour.

Rusalka, Asmik Grigorian; Prince, David Butt Philip; Vodník, Rafal Siwek; Duchess, Emma Bell; Ježibaba; Sarah Connolly; Hajny, Ross Ramgobin; Kuchtík, Hongni Wu. Directors, Ann Yee And Natalie Abrahami; Set Designer, Chloe Lamford; Costume Designer; Annemarie Woods; Lighting Designer, Paule Constable. Conductor, Semyon Bychkov.

I have heard this work once before live, at Glyndebourne, certainly, and possibly I saw the famous ENO Pountney production in the early 80’s – if I did,, 40 years ago, I’ve completely lost any memory of it . I was looking forward to the ENO Rusalka in March/April 2020, abandoned on the brink of the first performance by the pandemic, and I suspect it might have been a finer production than this. But not musically………… 

For, above all, this new ROHCG production offered an extremely fine musical performance, and the conducting of Semyon Bychkov was almost beyond praise, really. I cannot imagine a more poetic and sensitive account of this work. There were countless moments when a gorgeous phrase was highlighted, a sensitive sudden hushing or diminuendo made, and much beautiful playing by the orchestra, particularly in the woodwind and horns. Nothing was raucous. I suppose, in terms of pulse, it was slowish – the beginning of Act 2 notably so, given other readings I have heard – but somehow this didn’t really matter. I just enjoyed the beautiful sound world Bychkov was creating. ‘World class’ is a bit of an over-used epithet, particularly since our last-but-one Prime Minister, but I really can’t use any other phrase for the musical aspect of this performance. All the Wagnerian tendencies and tinges were brought out in this reading, but also it shone with Bychkov and the orchestra’s clear love for Dvorak’s haunting folk tunes and idioms too. 

And not just the orchestra……..the cast was extremely fine, with no weak links. Small parts were cast from strength – Russ Ramgobin, for instance, an extraordinarily powerful Alberich in the Birmingham Rhinegold in 2021, was Hajny. Emma Bell, a very fine Sieglinde in the ENO Valkyrie in the same year, was a lustrous Foreign Princess, with her striking creamy tones; Sarah Connolly a commanding presence as ever as Jezibaba.  David Butt Phillip made a lot of what I can imagine might be a rather droopy character in other hands, with a strong clear voice, sounding as though he should be singing some of the less demanding Wagner roles soon, and convincingly portraying the obsession the character has with Rusalka (he used a ‘head voice’ a couple of times in the higher range which emphasised a point by a gentleman near me, that he was originally a baritone. I hope the tenor upper range doesn’t become a problem for him. ……..And then there was Asmik Gregorian as Rusalka…….she is always fascinating to watch,  one of those singers who just have a magnetic presence on stage. Her voice isn’t conventionally beautiful, but its slightly harsh brittle sound is ideal for singing tortured characters such as Senta, Jenufa and Rusalka. She uses her voice very well – almost whispered moments, big climaxes – and acts convincingly; a totally gripping performance. 

So, if this were a concert performance, I am sure it would have been one of my highlights of the year……But……… 

I felt there were two problems with the evening, reflecting on it the following morning: 

• Inherently the work has flaws dramatically. The third act, in particularly is sluggish, with several rather inconsequential episodes (such as the three singing Wood-sprites) to pad out the inevitable crises of Rusalka meeting her father after running away from the Prince, and the Prince’s meeting with Rusalka and joining her in death. As a whole it is a long evening, with at times little to focus on on stage (but of course with the gorgeous music to enjoy). (Interestingly I had dredged up from my memory something about Gustav Mahler expressing a willingness to conduct Rusalka. Googling that this morning, I learned, at least according to the article I read, that Mahler had indeed entered into correspondence with Dvorak about performing the work in Vienna, in 1901, but that the projected run of performances was repeatedly postponed and in the end never took place, due, in part, the article said, to Mahler’s doubts about whether it worked as an opera). 
• Though, to its credit, it never got in the way particularly, the production had few insights to offer. The second act set was the best  –  a box set of rooms with the upper part of the stage blocked, to show the artificiality and restricted nature of the Prince’s world. There was a very effective moment when the upper curtain is raised and we see the world of the forest and pool beyond, as Rusalka’s father, the Vlodnik, enters the Prince’s palace. The first act was a fairly conventional  – almost story-book like – forest and pool (I kept getting a bit irritated that, having created a convincing pool centre stage, people kept walking all over it) with a large round rocky quasi-toilet seat above, to give a sense of peering into the pool. The same basic set in act 3 had all the green and blue colourings removed to create a bleak polluted pool of reds and greys, without forest cover. The singers seemed to be largely left to their own devices. But, though things seemed a bit routine, this was not particularly in a bad way – the production just was not doing more than framing the music in a rather old-fashioned approach. In directoral terms there is so much that could be done with this work – domestic violence? abuse of women and trafficking? the climate crisis (which the programme notes said were a focus for the production, but this did not particularly come across); something about the modern view of identity? It’s a pity the production didn’t challenge the audience more / make more contemporary connections 

But the music, as I say, made for a hugely enjoyable evening! 

Martyn Brabbins, conductor; Richard Jones, director; Stewart Laing, designer, Adam Silverman, lighting designer; Akhila Krishnan, video designer. John Reylea, Wotan; Leigh Melrose, Alberich. Frederick Ballentine, Loge; Madeleine Shaw, Fricka; John Findon, Mime; Christine Rice, Erda; Katie Lowe, Freia; Julian Hubbard, Froh; Blake Denson, Donner; Simon Bailey, Fasolt; James Cresswell, Fafner; Eleanor Dennis, Woglinde; Idunnu Münch, Wellgunde; Katie Stevenson, Flosshilde

This production was one of the clearest narrative accounts I’ve seen of Rhinegold, and managed to be both that, and extraordinarily inventive, at the same time, never cluttering or obscuring the action, and always using references in the text as the basis for imaginative expansion. A good example of this occurs at the beginning, when we come into the theatre; there’s a big tree centre-stage, which must be the World Ash Tree. Before the prelude starts there’s a brief silent piece of action, when men, clearly dressed in progressive historical periods’ clothing, gradually denude the tree of its branches, the final figure being Wotan, who of course has used a bough of the World Ash Tree to make his spear. It’s a very clever piece of stage enactment which shows very clearly the way in which in Wagner’s view our society has gradually eroded the sacred basis of life, and forgotten its roots in the natural world. 

The basic set is a spangly backdrop, which can represent the Rhine but also provided an effective background for Nibelheim and the mountain top near Valhalla. Scene 1 has the Rhine maidens as lycra-clad gym-users, while Alberich is a young man in T shirt and baggy blue shorts. The Rhinegold is personalised (and there is justification for this in the way the Rhine Maidens refer to ‘he’ rather than ‘it’ at points), a kind of humanoid baby-like puppet, which is scrunched up by Alberich at the end of the scene into a formless mass. This is, again, an aspect of the dehumanising world of Nibelheim. Scenes 2 and 4 have the same spangly backdrop but in addition a series of giant candy-floss sticks (or maybe mushrooms) which, however strange, are quite effective at giving a sense of decadence and aloof living – they vaguely reminded me of the ceremonial umbrellas West African kings have, but without the ritual and ceremonial connotations. Three parts of the spectacle are particularly effective 

• the mass production factory of Nibelheim, with the ENO chorus costumed in identical white T shirts and baggy blue shorts, and with harsh fluorescent lighting;  
• the rainbow bridge scene – there’s no bridge but hundreds of pieces of coloured glitter, which sparkle like a rainbow as they descend; 
• and the image of Valhalla which suddenly emerges from the darkness right at the end, not a fortress or palace but a prison. In a really clever coup-de-theatre, the  perspective suddenly moves from the gods walking towards Valhalla to their being inside it, rushing to block the windows and entry points to prevent any access by the Rhine maidens protesting outside 
  
  I was very impressed by the way Richard Jones and his production team stuck to the text in what’s offered on stage. If there’s a reference to a spear, there’s a spear; there’s a ‘real’ dragon and toad; the gold blocks really do block the sight of Freia; Donner has a real hammer. When there are expansions from the text they are fittingly, sometimes amusingly done (e.g. the lorry Fafner drives onto the stage to pick up the gold) and sometimes very effectively enhancing the action (the black clad dancers supporting the Rhine maidens in their swimming). The brutality shown on stage – by Alberich and a team of duplicate Alberich-like overseers, or in the killing of Fasolt (the nastiest I’ve seen)  – are part of an overarching vision; everything coheres. The whole production emphasised how much better a text-driven approach works than those playing faster and looser with what Wagner wrote (e.g the Bayreuth production last summer, whose overall concept was not that dissimilar), while still remaining contemporary, and, where appropriate, funny. I thought what Jones has produced was rather clearer and more effective than the Keith Warner production at Covent Garden, too. I suppose my one question mark would be over the pink pyjama’d Erda and her three school-girl Norns………….. 

 As with Jones’ Valkyrie in late 2021, the other thing which impressed in this production was the handling of individuals and their reactions to each other – meticulously crafted and thoughtful. Examples of this would be Wotan kissing Erda passionately (appropriate given that she is subsequently the mother of the Valkyries), the dissociation Freia is shown to feel from the gods because of the treatment of Fasolt, and the affection she demonstrates towards him, and the way in which the Rhimemaidens credibly flirt with Alberich 

 I did wonder how what we saw on stage in Rhinegold related to the snowy, bleak, wooden huts and survivalist scenes in Jones’ ‘Valkyrie’. Let us hope we have the chance to find out, though the chances of this Ring continuing are wholly dependent on the continuation of the ENO in its current form, or on the Met agreeing to continue to fund it (and, despite my unwillingness to fly anywhere, I probably would fly to New York for a Jones/Met Ring cycle, if it ever happened). 

So what about individual performances and the music? There were a range of outstanding performances: 

• Alberich – Leigh Melrose had a terrifying presence on stage once possessed of the Ring, and was truly manic in the way he charged around stage with a truncheon. His voice was lighter maybe than some Alberich’s but he used it very powerfully, including at times a bordering on sprech-stimme 
• Loge – Frederick Ballentine was very effective (I guess it is a gift of a role, and I have never really seen an unimpressive Loge) in projecting his words, dominating the stage and displaying his tricksy dis-association from the gods. With the help of Jones, Loge’s commitment to the Rhinenaidens’ cause of getting their lost gold back came across more effectively than in other productions I have seen. 
• Wotan – John Relyea was a commanding presence; he has a beautiful sonorous voice that makes him a very credible Wotan. Again, his emotional movements from triumphalism to despair were very credibly captured. I have a particularly strong memory of Wotan lying prostrate on the floor, in collapse after the killing of Fasolt  
• Mime – John Findon is a big bloke and so a surprising bit of casting for Mime, but he gave an unusually sharp character sketch of an exploited worker, again in regulation white T shirt and blue shorts. His diction was the best of all the cast, and he used his voice flexibly and (in describing the Nibelung past) movingly

But the rest of the cast were good too – there were no weak links (and including some casting from strength like Erda being sung by Christine Rice). Donner (Blake Denson)’s voice. for instance, made a splendid sound in his big hammer-wielding act before the rainbow bridge appears.

If I had one question mark over the performance it would be the conducting. The orchestral playing was excellent (beautiful oboe playing when Fasolt sings about his loneliness, some stunning horn playing), but I sometimes felt there was a lack of drive, a lack of a sense of overwhelming climaxes and contrasts compared to some readings. However conceivably this might have been where I was sitting – great view of the stage, slightly occluded view (and therefore audio-occluded as well) of the orchestra.

All in all, though, this was very memorable. And, at the very least, the musical leadership let the story unfold naturally and underpinned the narrative effectively.  Apart from the Birmingham Rhinegold in July 2021 it’s probably the most effective production I’ve seen of this work.

Haydn Piano Trio In A Hob:XV No.18; Tchaikovsky The Seasons (Selection) Arr. For Piano Trio; Tchaikovsky Piano Trio Op.50 . Leonore Piano Trio

How nice to go to a concert where all the works are new to me, and pleasurably so.

I suppose that the Haydn piece, being one piano trio among so many others (over 40), might mean that you have some understanding of what you’re likely to expect – but then of course that’s absolutely the point of Haydn, that there’s always a quirk, an ingenuity and you DO never quite know what to expect. In this case, the piano trio in A major Hob XV:18 had a long first movement which started genially but which got into quite surprising Sturm und Drang mode towards the end the development section, where there were some strange harmonic quirks and remote keys. The Andante and the final Allegro were much shorter. The interplay between the instruments was great fun to listen to and, it being the Crucible, exciting to watch close up. Tim Horton, the pianist, explained how Haydn had invented the genre single-handedly and that many of his earlier trios were perhaps more like piano sonatas with accompaniment, but in this work all three instruments are important.

The Tchaikovsky ‘Seasons’ extracts (there were 4 – January, May, October and December) were originally piano pieces but here arranged by a younger contemporary, Goedicke, for piano trio. To be frank, none of them really seemed to paint ‘tone pictures’ of what those months might feel like, unlike Vivaldi’s, but they were all easy on the ear, and one, December, has a real ear-worm of a tune, straight out of one of the big ballets, and a waltz too!!

The Tchaikovsky Piano Trio is a really big piece – 47 minutes was the timing given in the programme notes.  It was written in memory of Tchaikovsky’s friend and mentor, Nicolai Rubinstein, who died in 1881. It was hugely enjoyable to listen to and I am definitely going to buy a recording of the work. It was also, again, gripping to sit so near to the two string players as they dug into their notes. Its structure is not a very obvious or immediately clear one, I found – there are 5 sections but two movements (the five being Pezzo elegiaco (Moderato assai. Allegro giusto); Tema con variazioni; Andante con moto; Variazioni; Finale e coda) and the emotional trajectory is not that easy to follow – seemingly moving from the passionate to light-hearted to seemingly triumphant to despair. But definitely one to explore….I did wonder why Tchaikovsky had in fact decided that a piano trio was the right vehicle for this music; it’s music that at times could have sounded wonderful (the reprise of the big opening theme at the end of the work, for instance) with a full symphony orchestra.

Throughout the playing of the Trio was excellent – and the hall was full!!!

Director, Tim Albery; Choreography, Venusberg Scene, Jasmin Vardimon; Set Designer. Michael Levine; Costume Designer, Jon Morrell; Lighting Designer, David Finn. Conductor, Sebastian Weigle; Tannhäuser, Stefan Vinke; Elisabeth, Lise Davidsen; Wolfram Von Eschinbach, Gerald Finley; Venus, Ekaterina Gubanova; Hermann, Mika Kares; Biterolf, Michael Kraus; Walther Von Der Vogelweide, Egor Zhuravskii

I have not seen this work live many times. I went to a performance in the first run of the Goetz Friedrich Tannhauser at Bayreuth in 1972 with Gwyneth Jones, and saw a 1974 performance of the same production there. I think I also saw another Covent Garden production in the 70’s conducted by Colin Davis, also with Gwyneth Jones.  But since then the only performance I’ve been to was one of this production in 2016, when I got to see two acts of it, and then had to leave to catch a late night flight from Heathrow to Bangladesh. I have seen many more productions of, for instance the Flying Dutchman. Maybe this has something to do with the fact that modern Europe finds it quite difficult to know what to make of Tannhäuser. This is not to say it can’t work in a modern production – the Goetz Friedrich one was a brilliant example of what might be possible. But it is more difficult.

This production – by director Tim Albery – didn’t get in the way, particularly, but also wasn’t very helpful in interpreting what was happening on stage and what was being said and sung. The focus seemed to be on Tannhauser as creative artist and how we turn ‘life’ into art. The set of the Venusberg was a replica of the Covent Garden proscenium arch and curtain (in all its plushness and E11R insignia – which needs unstitching). The ballet begins with a sequence of men sitting on a chair looking at the replica stage, and then being drawn into the action of the female dancers. The end of Act 1 sees Elizabeth, who hasn’t formally entered the action yet, coming on stage and settling down in a seat to watch the action. Act 2 has the Wartburg Hall as the same proscenium arch, now collapsed and in ruins, though at points stage footlights come on, and the real proscenium arch is illuminated. The last act seems to be set on a high snowy pass but with, arguably, some of the very last remnants of the proscenium arch still visible. At the end of the opera, again a spectator comes on stage to face the chorus. There are various bits of ‘stagey’ props – a tree at the end of Act 1 and the sprouting Pope’s staff at the end of Act 3. The minnesingers all wear dinner jackets in Acts 1 and 2, while the residents of the Wartburg seem rather poverty-stricken and possibly Slavonic in clothing . Quite what this is telling us about the work I am not sure. Undoubtedly the Landgrave has a high view of art and its power to heal; undoubtedly art can also – particularly in relation to Wagner – be a drug that deflects people from attending to their real needs and those of others. And also artists can – again, Wagner particularly – create great art but treat people appallingly, as Tannhauser does Elizabeth. But this theme doesn’t seem particularly pursued after the Venusberg and seems to become increasingly irrelevant. More to the point, it doesn’t really grapple with the heart of the work, which, like other Wagner operas, is essentially about using the combined power of music, words and design to give people an experience which would be something like a substitute for the declining power of organised religion in the minds of contemporary audiences, using myths as a powerful reminder of what matters most to human beings and exploring the recurring themes of redemption, atonement and salvation – how people are ‘saved’ to be the best they can be. A production that simply ignores God, salvation, redemption, or at any rate doesn’t seek to reinterpret these concepts for a modern audience, is not really going to work in this opera, I think, particularly since it is much more obviously Christian in language than, say, Parsifal. I was struck by how many of the themes and language of Parsifal and Tristan appear in the work – for instance Elizabeth is described as having, as a result of Tannhauser’s rejection, a ‘wound which will never heal’, like Amfortas. So all in all, not a very satisfactory production. I also felt in this revival it seemed a bit under-directed, in terms of a certain aimlessness in movement on stage, particularly in Act 3. I could see this work being performed in various ways – the Wartburg as oppressive, as a saga of Wagner’s  life; as a dream of a crazed Elizabeth…etc – but Tim Alberys way really didn’t work.

Musically, thankfully, things were a lot better. Reviews of the conducting were mixed – some felt there was insufficient energy and drive, some much more positive. I thought Sebastian Weigle’s handling of the orchestra was very good – he went for musicality over hyper-emotion, and there was a lovely lilt to much of the playing, bringing out details you don’t always hear and allowing the music to flow. It’s true maybe some of the Venusberg music in Act 1 could have done with a bit more bite and thrust, but on the whole I liked his conducting.  

There were actually many stars in this production, not just the obvious one. Among them: 

• The chorus and the Tiffin School boys choir, who sounded magnificent throughout 
• The dancers in the Venusberg – the choreography was excellent and the dancers spectacularly skillful, somersaulting across the extended table used as the basis for the dance sequences 
• The Finnish bass  Mika Kares  as the Landgrave had a beautiful voice and excellent diction 
•  Gerald Finley sang wonderfully well as Wolfram, colouring sensitively every word he sang, and creating some of those operatic moments in Act 3, where time seems to stop, as a singer draws out a lyrical line  
•  Ekaterina Gubanova as Venus was apologised for at the beginning, but to me sounded in powerful voice and was very effective 

But, of course, there has to be a particular emphasis on the performance of Lise Davidsen, who is just very special indeed. A commanding presence, a powerful voice totally under control, beautiful shading of words, a real ability to not ‘just’ sing but really inhabit a role – hers was a wonderful performance. 

Tannhauser was having the same vocal health problems as he has been in other performances in this run. As in the first performance, Stefan Vinke was out of voice and acted the role while Norbert Ernst sung from the side of the stage. Given the routineness of the stage direction, it was difficult to see why Mr Ernst wasn’t just asked to take over – maybe a contractual thing? Mr Ernst I thought did quite well – his voice is not over-powering in volume, and maybe has a lack of variation of tone at times, but it is a tough role and he got through it without bellowing and with some nice lyrical moments. I would have been perfectly happy to see him fully in the role (I understand that in at least one of the later performances that is exactly what happened!). 

All in all it was lovely to hear this work live, and particularly Act 3 live for the first time in 50 years!  

Schumann Genoveva: Overture; Schumann Piano Concerto; Caroline Shaw Music in Common Time; Mozart Symphony No.36 in C major ‘Linz’. Gábor Takács-Nagy, conductor; Klara Min, piano

This was not my first choice for a musical outing. I had originally intended to go to a Stoller Hall concert with Ensemble 360 – some Vaughan Williams, Stainer and Schumann. However a quick check revealed that the last train home wasn’t running……This Sheffield concert seemed to be the best alternative so I quickly booked for it on the morning it was happening. It was actually quite a pleasant surprise.  I decided to sit in the front stalls very near the orchestra and actually thoroughly enjoyed that position – the sound is less dead close up and things like the thwack of double bass pizzicatos are enjoyable when experienced a couple of metres away. I’ll try the same position when listening to a bigger orchestra. The audience wasn’t massive but sufficient to give atmosphere and response for the performers

The Manchester Camerata sounded tight, together, and with some excellent wind soloists. They are chamber orchestra sized, not using period instruments, but with some period informed practice (like hard drum sticks for the Mozart. I hadn’t appreciated that Gábor Takács-Nagy was the first violin of and one of the founders of the Takács string quartet – so a very distinguished musician, clearly enjoying himself hugely as a conductor and getting sharp clear performances from the orchestra. Both he and the first horn introduced works from the concert – always a good thing in my view, and indeed (not having read the programme notes carefully for the concerto),  it wasn’t until Mr Takács-Nagy mentioned it that I realised that the concerto’s first movement was originally a Fantasia, and the other two movements added to make a concerto some years later.

I used to groan a bit when I saw the Schumann concerto in my early concert-going days – it seemed to get programmed an awful lot – but it’s a while since I’ve heard it and I enjoyed the performance. Ms Lim is one of those performers with a clear, crystalline tone – no romantic sponginess here – and I thought that her approach worked quite well. It still allowed for poetry, for responsive rubato, but pushed the music forward so that it didn’t sag. It was a bright-eyed fresh approach without some of the Victorian mustiness I sense in some performances.

The new piece by Caroline Shaw I’d need to listen to again to form a clearer judgement – it was certainly approachable; a bit like a constant procession of the dawn part of Ravel’s Daphnis and Chloe, but tailing off at the end into something wispy and intangible (which was a bit odd, since it was supposed to be about time past and time future being the same). The choral sound added a lot to the work – mainly wordless but with a short poem by the composer as well.

The Mozart was hugely enjoyable – energetic, propulsive in the first and last movements, but not overly fast and (my usual comment) with a ‘bounce’ that lets all notes be heard. The analogy with Mozart’s operas brought out by the first horn’s introduction was helpful, as different sections of the orchestra responded and called to each other. I’ve not heard the Manchester Camerata live before – I must do so again before not too long

Stravinsky Three Pieces for String Quartet;  Shostakovich String Quartet No.3 Op.73; Beethoven String Quartet Op.135, performed by Ensemble 360

This was a very good concert. When I arrived at the Upper Chapel, rather early at 6.30pm, I was amazed to see a queue forming outside the chapel. The house was completely full – this really was  back to the pre-pandemic days for an audience that could be forgiven for being still wary of large crowded gatherings.

The Stravinsky piece was almost defiantly a not-string-quartet – three contrasting pieces, without dialogue or much in the way of subtle harmonic blends – each instrument does its own thing. The  work dates from 1915  – the first movement is in Rite of Spring mode, the second more Petrushka, and the third is grey, mysterious and troubled

The Shostakovich piece was apparently one of his favourites, and was composed around the same time as the 9^th Symphony. It begins with a similar almost Haydn-esque tune. The first movement is jaunty, the second bitingly sarcastic, the third sounding somewhat similar to the scherzo of the 10^th symphony. The last two movements are a bleak slow piece and a final grey 10 minutes or so that possibly shines a little light on the way forward (it reminded me a bit of the last movement of the 8^th Symphony). The work was well received at first but then fell foul of Zhdanov in 1948 – ‘modernist and false music.’ This performance seemed to me to be good, though sometimes it felt that the 1^st first violin had a lighter quieter tone that didn’t quite gel with his colleagues – however that could just be an issue of where I was sitting (or could be that his colleagues were too loud!). The handling of the final few bars I thought was very well done – maybe the mordant bits were a bit lacking in character earlier, I’m not sure.

The Beethoven quartet was prefaced by an excellent introduction to the work by Rachel Roberts, the viola player, in simple plain language, giving us some sense of the emotional trajectory of the work and how that might relate to Beethoven’s life at the time. I wish more artists would do this – it does help in engaging the audience. I felt I was listening more intensely as a result and because that was so I found this more enjoyable than other live performances of this work I’ve heard over the years. There was a bounce and a lightness to the playing that was appropriate for the work, but also heft and strength in the opening to the finale. A fine performance. Coincidentally I was reading on the day of the concert a book by Arnold Steinhardt about his time with the Guarneri string quartet. He quotes a conversation in the book with a doctor talking about Op 135 – it’s like the Kubler-Ross definition of the progress the terminally ill make, the doctor said. First movement and part of the second movement, – questioning; the violent middle part of the 2nd movement, anger; the third, mourning; the fourth, final acceptance. That seems right to me……..

Sonya Yoncheva, Fedora; Piotr Beczała, Count Loris; Rosa Feola, Countess Olga;  Lucas Meachem, De Siriex. Conductor,  Marco Armiliato; Director,  David McVicar; Set Designer, Charles Edwards; Costume Designer,  Brigitte Reiffenstuel; Lighting Designer, Adam Silverman.

Rather to my surprise, I enjoyed this more than I was expecting. The reviews I saw were for the most part tepid about the work , and there are indeed some oddities – the aria about the bicycle, for instance. The plot is confused – it’s never quite clear what the motivation is for Fedora getting together with Loris in Paris. She could have shopped him to the police at any time for her husband-to-be’s murder, and with the St Petersburg police chief wanting to avenge the death of his son there’d be enough of a case against Loris not to worry about a confession. Anyway – to use an annoying phrase – it is what it is, and the cast gave ‘it’ to us at full throttle. 

There are enough big tunes to make it musically interesting, as well as the famous if brief tenor aria that Jonas Kaufmann had sung at the Berlin Phil New Year’s Eve concert 2 weeks ago (“Amor ti vieta”). Some of the musical doodling at the less inspired moments could have got moved on faster by the conductor, but on the whole  Marco Armiliato got the orchestra playing with passion and accuracy, sweeping the singers up in the orchestral surges and climaxes.

Sony Yoncheva was the reason for this new production. The role is a very demanding one – quite a lot of low notes and phrases for a big soprano role and at the same time a lot of singing at the top of the range and Yoncheva was brilliant in tackling the demands of the role, bashing out the top C’s. Maybe there was quite a lot of vibrato at points but this didn’t bother me though it might others. She acted well enough too, particularly demanding and important since this was being filmed.  If I were to have any criticism it would be that there wasn’t much variation of tone – but, on the other hand, it is such a gutsy powerful role – subtlety isn’t needed. Similarly, Piotr Beczała gave his all and seemed in very good voice. He’s more of a stolid actor than Yoncheva but he gave an absorbing performance. Rosa Feola made as much as she could of the Musetta-like Countess Olga.   . 

The set and direction were certainly not likely to get in the way of appreciating the work regie-theater style. Arguably they didn’t illuminate the work particularly but it would be very difficult to do anything very different from what McVicar and Edwards provided, apart from providing less over-the-top sets and costumes. McVicar talked during the interval about what it must have felt like to be present at the first performance – modern clothes, new inventions, current political issues (Russian anarchists). But to try to mimic that sense of shock – modern clothes, an Extinction Rebellion protest that goes wrong – would just be daft…The directorial innovation was to have the ghost of Fedora’s husband to be appear at intervals but that confused things at one appearance – why was Fedora dancing with someone she’d just learned to be unpleasant and mercenary?

Probably I will probably never see the work again in my lifetime but it was a good evening out

Respighi, Fountains of Rome, Szymanowski Violin Concerto No.2, Brahms Symphony No.2. Sir Mark Elder conductor, Nicola Benedetti violin.

This was my first time in the Sheffield City Hall since a rather dispiriting concert in June. That had been a rather dismal occasion – the audience only just more in number than the assembled musicians and choirs for Belshazzar’s Feast and lots of grumbles from the audience as to how various ticketing problems had been handled by the management.  It seemed as though the Halle might have better things to do than visit Sheffield 5 or 6 times a year, I thought

 But less than a year later there we were at the same hall with a 90% full attendance and an enthusiastic reception. Part of that might have been Nicola Benedetti, who’s clearly something of a role model and heroine for all the young violinists of Sheffield – there were lots of young people with their parents, and Sheffield Music Academy and Music Hub tee shirts. Part of it might have been Mark Elders presence, who the audience had told the City Hall management last year they never saw when the Halle visited.  Whatever – it was a very welcome transformation.

And it was a very good concert! I suppose I must have heard The Fountains of Rome before, though I can’t remember doing so. Its thematic material is a bit bland, but it is undeniably well scored and all the water music is fun. It sounded very well played, though with that degree of orchestral complexity it’s difficult to be sure. The Szymanowski was not quite what I was expecting – I had assumed something like Bartok but it sounded more like Bax, and had the same sort of rather dense grinding harmonies. There was a big tune though! I got a bit lost in the structure but undoubtedly, to the extent I could tell, Nicola B played it very well, with lots of variation of tone and colour.

The Brahms 2 I really enjoyed. It sounded a bit akin to someone opening up a beautifully coloured illustrated child’s story book and reading through it at not too fast a pace, but not too slow either, turning the pages at just the right pace to be absorbed by the beauty of the illustrations but not lose the momentum of the plot! Partly perhaps Elder’s doing, partly the unlovely acoustics of the City Hall, I heard far more of the inner parts than I normally do – as a footnote a reviewer of the Manchester performance of the same works with the same team suggested that Elder had slimmed down the basses and the violins as in his performances with the Britten Sinfonia, which would explain the greater clarity of the inner parts. The first movement seemed strangely long, not because the repeat was taken but because I was listening far more than usual to the harmonies and the shifts of key. It also sounded much darker, in the first and second movements, than I normally am aware of (the word ‘sunny’ is often used about this work, but what I heard yesterday was far from sunny, some towering and grim climaxes, an oppressive sense of angst. The Halle played beautifully, particularly the first horn, Laurence Rogers. One extraordinary thing – somehow I have listened to this piece for at least 55 years without realising that the lower strings subject in the first movement is a minor version of the famous ‘Brahms Lullaby’ – this was in a programme note and I had never realised before……….

A really absorbing and enjoyable evening!!