Elgar Cockaigne (In London Town), Ravel Piano Concerto in G, Vaughan Williams Symphony No. 2 ‘A London Symphony’).  BBC Philharmonic- John Wilson, conductor, Steven Osborne, piano

This programme was a very interesting one in terms of the connections between the pieces – the VW and Ravel use ‘popular’ music in a complex symphonic texture, VW was a pupil of Ravel, and both the VW and the Elgar pieces are not quite what they seem, even though they are both supposed to have a ‘London’ focus – ‘Cockaigne’ is also the land of fantasy, while the VW symphony is more than redolent of later masterpieces such as the 4^th symphony and Job; finally the VW and Elgar are relatively ‘early’ works.

Something happened at this concert which was a new one on me……Last week the viola soloist had a broken string, occasioning a stop in the first movement of Harold in Italy, but this week we had the harpist in the orchestra having a nose bleed, which stopped the performance of the Ravel Piano Concerto 5 minutes in – the harpist has a lot to do in the Ravel so this was a serious problem. While the harpist sorted himself out, and John Wilson went off stage, Steven Osborne took over and was brilliant! He gave a series of impromptu performances – something jazzy, some Chopin  and something by Debussy  with the audience being asked for suggestions.  This was much appreciated by the audience. Wisely, the conductor and soloist agreed to restart the concerto from the beginning

The Sheffield City Hall remains an awful place to listen to an orchestra in, particularly when there are big late Romantic sounds. As a result, I wasn’t quite sure what I thought of John Wilson’s Elgar. The sound gets flattened by the hall, which is good for listening to inner textures, but not for Elgar’s great washes of sound and lush string melodies. The performance as a result sounded a little clinical and insufficiently excited, but it did enable me to hear parts of the music I’d never really heard before – whether this was Wilson’s skills with the orchestra or the hall I’m not sure. There were a few smudged sounds, particularly from the brass who weren’t together in one of their early and important loud entries in the piece. The Ravel however was a delight – Steven Osborne seemed a much more nuanced soloist than Benjamin Grosvenor, who played this about 6 months ago in Manchester, and the BBC Philharmonics playing too seemed more memorable than the Halle’s. I have grown to like this piece a lot, both the jazzy first movement and the beautiful slow one. The harpist did his bit very well without further nose bleeds and there was also some excellent flute playing, I thought

Coming to the Vaughan Williams, it was interesting to hear it so soon after the Elgar. The latter I think to be a very great composer but his musical soundworld is pretty identifiable as being sourced from Richard Strauss, Brahms and Wagner. VW by contrast sounds much more ‘original’, a voice that isn’t obviously connected in his earlier works to that grand Austro-German tradition. Interestingly, Stephen Johnson in his programme notes for the concert made the connection in relation to this symphony with Mahler, which is intriguing – I’d never thought of VW and Mahler as having any connection, but I guess the way popular music is used by both, particularly in the 1st movement of VW2, is something they both have in common.

I heard the VW2 a number of times in the 70s, always conducted by Adrian Boult. I’ve never heard it live since then and probably not much listened to recordings of it intently in the intervening years. I used to wince at what I thought were some of the vulgarities. Listening to it almost afresh, my over-riding feelings are that it is staggeringly original, and that the symphony has very little to do with London – apart from Big Ben! The basic tension is between the pastoral and the sounds of threat, busyness, tension and tragedy – familiar from the 4th and 6th symphonies and Job. The Big Ben sounds at the beginning and then end seems to be a tolling bell giving hope at sunrise and restoring a sense of balance between the two in the evening. This tension is particularly there in the 2nd and 4th movements. It is easy to hear those as representing some sort of pre -WW1 forebodings, but I think they are about something deeper and more elemental than that. I loved hearing this piece and, as far as it would let me, the hall seemed to allow a fine performance. But it was not an ideal venue to experience it in. So……..I was moved enough by this performance, and by hearing this great work again, that I decided to go to the same team performing it on Saturday at Bridgewater Hall – repeating VW2 and coupling it with VW7 – with much better sound! My only sadness is that the original 1913 piece was over an hour long. In his various revisions VW lopped off about 20 mins, and it was the 1933 version we heard in this performance. It would be nice to hear the uncut version some day……..

Berlioz, Harold en Italie; Kodály, Dances of Galánta; Tchaikovsky, Francesca da Rimini. Halle Orchestra: Lionel Bringuier, conductor; Timothy Ridout, viola

There are a number of connections here possibly in terms of this programme – all have wild elements to their close, two are relatively early works, and the Kodaly and the Tchaikovsky are great orchestral display pieces.  In my own case, I have never heard the Berlioz or Tchaikovsky live – I heard the Kodaly once about 10 years ago at the Proms with Vladimir Jurowski.

The outstanding performance for me was the Tchaikovsky. The Halle sounds quite transfigured when playing the great late Romantic repertory, and their playing was glorious in this piece – a rich string sound, sonorous brass with just a hint of Russian harshness in the brass (I even thought I detected a whiny horn), supple woodwind, and the whirlwind of hell sounding very convincing indeed, with the percussion section, particularly the gong, adding a huge noise at the end. I though Brinquier judged the tempi and balance just right – maybe the brass at the climax was just a little too reserved and un-Russian, but that is a minor criticism

The other two pieces didn’t seem quite on the same level – I thought some of the speeds in the Kodaly were too fast, and the Hale sounded a bit cautious in response – sometimes the rhythms didn’t seem quite right or as well-pointed as they should have done, and also the transitions seemed a bit jerky sometimes from one dance to another.

The Berlioz is a work I have always had problems with listening to it on record or on the radio, and listening to it live didn’t seem to make it any easier to follow. There are some imaginative and memorable leading themes but how they get worked on and resolved in a symphonic sense remains a bit of a mystery to me, and I find myself losing attention – not helped in this performance by the fact that the excellent Matthew Ridou had to stop in the middle of the first movement to adjust a string. But I’ve just replayed parts of the LSO/Colin Davis recording and felt the same lack of engagement. So I’ve done my duty by this piece and won’t be seeking it out again……

Patrick Furrer, Conductor; Sonya Yoncheva, Élisabeth De Valois; Jamie Barton, Eboli; Matthew Polenzani, Don Carlos; Eric Owens, Philippe II; Etienne Dupuis,  Rodrigue Marquis de Posa; John Relyea, Grand Inquisitor; Director, David Mcvicar; Set Design, Charles Edwards

So – this was my first trip after two weeks of isolation from anything social at all! Don Carlos is a work I have never seen live and, indeed, have never even heard extracts in recordings (though I did, somehow, recognise the brotherhood theme which Carlos and Posa sing, and also the opening Act 4 soliloquy by the King seemed vaguely familiar).

 At coming up to 5 hours with two intervals, it felt a bit of a slog. Based on Schiller, the libretto is, in operatic terms, sensible, and, really, in its treatment of political themes of liberation and oppression, there are very interesting things one could do in staging the work (and I am sure there have been such interesting stagings and thrilling contemporary settings over the years). However, this wasn’t one of them. It was an entirely realistic, historically-bound staging, with the usual massive Met sets – huge grey walls, pillars, tombs, and costumes were strictly 16^th century. The cast varied in their acting ability – Posa was, particularly in close-up for camera, very good indeed, Eboli was always very watchable, while some of the rest were either fairly stolid or – in the case of the Inquisitor – hamming it up. Nor was the singing always as good as I could imagine it might be in a different setting – Jamie Barton was tremendous, with a very varied and nuanced delivery, and Matthew Polenzani and Etienne Dupuis were both sensitive singers, able to deal easily with the considerable requirements of their roles. I found Yoncheva less than overwhelming – she seems to have one of those impressive voices that sound just a little out of control (though there was at times some lovely soft singing) and with noisy intakes of breath; her voice in summary sounded a bit effortful. Eric Owens sounded in not very good voice and seemed not to have much of a stage presence – he also didn’t seem to be pointing his words much. He felt to me to be chilled rather than a figure of menace. Yannick Nézet-Séguin was indisposed and Patrick Furrer, one of the Met music staff, stepped in to conduct, with great success.

Probably a first and last time for me – and now I have heard the French version I think I’ll give the Italian one a miss……… I’m left wondering why this work had so little impact on me, when by contrast the Requiem and Otello I’ve loved for over 50 years (and indeed some of the thematic material of Don Carlos did seem to my ears to have links with the Requiem). Was it the number of big roles the work required, which leads in the last two acts to some, perhaps Buggins-turn, arias which don’t take the story forward. Was the basic plot not energising and inspirational enough for Verdi, or maybe too complex? Is the basic melodic material not memorable enough because Verdi was deliberately limiting his lyrical gifts in order to be ‘serious:’? But Aida also deals with similar issues yet is a much more direct and melodically memorable experience…… As I say, I’m not sure…..Maybe it’s my problem rather than the work’s.

Der Holländer – John Lundgren; Daland – Georg Zeppenfeld; Senta – Asmik Grigorian; Erik – Eric Cutler; Mary – Marina Prudenskaya; Der Steuermann – Attilio Glaser; Conductor – Oksana Lyniv; Director – Dmitri Tcherniakov; Sets – Dmitri Tcherniakov; Costumes – Elena Zaytseva

I had been planning to go to the ROHCG Peter Grimes, the ENO Cosi, and ETO’s Golden Cockerel in the W/B 14/3, but – stuff happens, and in my case I got Covid, so all these became ‘might have been’s – The Golden Cockerel is on all over the place but none fits in around other commitments I have, and, as far as Peter Grimes is concerned, I am seeing it in Munich in July. Oh well…. During my enforced house-bound 10 days the most enjoyable musical event I watched on my laptop was this, a video from the opening night of last year’s festival. The Parsifal Tcherniakov I’ve read about staged in Berlin sounds too wayward as a reading. From what I’ve heard, it would give some credibility to Roger Scruton’s claim that “…..Wagner’s dramas concern sacred things, and sacred things are intolerable to those who no longer believe in them: an urge to desecrate replaces the desire to worship and – just as in periods of religious iconoclasm, such as that which destroyed the interiors of our English churches – the finest and most beautiful symbols are torn down and trampled on, lest they retain their power over the human soul”. Well, of course, it would be possible to use that argument to insist that nothing about the staging of these works should have changed since Wagner’s time, which is obviously nonsense – in the case of the Dutchman this completely idiosyncratic account of the work made a lot of sense and produced some remarkably dramatic moments. The re-working of the story is essentially this: the Dutchman’s mother, a single woman, is having an affair with a younger Daland, who is married. He rejects her and as a result she commits suicide in front of her young son (all this is staged during the overture). Years later the son, now a grown man, comes back to the town for vengeance. In the meantime, Daland has married (might already have been married to) Mary, and their daughter is Senta. Senta falls for the Dutchman as in the ‘normal’ reading of the opera; their love duet takes place in the extension of Daland’s house with Daland and Mary sitting frozen at the table. Erik is a bit of a plonker as in the standard version. Eventually The Dutchman leaves and is shot while he does so by Mary – there seems to be some pity for her from Senta as the curtain falls. Not all of this makes sense at first view – and my German isn’t good enough to determine how relevant some of what was being sung was to what we were seeing on stage. But the reading seemed consistent and generated some extraordinarily effective acting and scenes.

The set was a foggy gloomy silhouetted North German town, in shades of grey, yellow and blue. The ‘shipwreck’ scene was set in a micro-detailed outside bar. The choir of seamstresses turned into a town choral society being rehearsed by Mary. Asmik Gregorian was quite outstanding as Senta – vocally thrilling, even reckless, and throwing herself into the role. The roar that greeted her curtain call must have been heard all over the town! John Lundgren was also first class dramatically as the Dutchman, though vocally a bit monochrome and not sufficiently varied. Georg Zeppenfeld was his normal first-class self as Daland. Oksana Lyniv made the orchestra blaze – a thrilling account of the score. Thoroughly recommended!!

Production, Elijah Moshinsky; Set and Costume Designer, Michael Yeargan; Conductor, Marek Janowski. Lise Davidsen, Ariadne; Brenda Rae, Zerbinetta; Isabel Leonard, Composer; Brandon Jovanovich, Bacchus; Sean Michael Plumb, Harlequin; Johannes Martin Kränzle, Music Master; Wolfgang Brendel, Major-Domo

I am not sure I have ever seen this work live before – and of course this wasn’t really ’live’ either but the Met’s live-streaming does bring you as near as possible to a live experience, when you’re sitting in a cinema with others particularly.

Ariadne is a complex work and one that can do your head in! There is artifice within artifice – you’re watching an opera about someone making an opera that then is performed to an imaginary 18^th century audience in front of you, the real audience. However – perhaps luckily – there is only so much directors can do with ‘Ariadne’, and so going along with what Strauss and Hoffmanstahl who, as great artists of the theatre, knew exactly what they wanted and how to achieve it, is the obvious way forward. The main focus for a director has to be on:

1. getting the singers to act well and react to each other credibly, establishing effectively the different characters
2. getting some laughs but not making Zerbinetta and crew too gross
3. ensuring that the evening ends with a bang! (a bit crude, but I would defend that summary – after all, the evening performance as described in the Prologue is meant to end with fireworks at 9pm prompt!)
4. judging the extent to which Ariadne carries over her antagonism to Zerbinetta and her diva-ism from the Prologue into the scenario of the ‘main’ second part.? How should Ariadne react to Zerbinetta?
5. deciding how to play the Composer’s sudden infatuation with Zerbinetta
6. determining how to handle the different layers of artificiality

Whether a revival director, or the original production book from Moshinsky, was responsible, or both, nearly all these were well handled. On point 4, for instance, Lisa Davidsen as Ariadne gave a twitch of annoyance at first that was back to her Prologue character, but then reverted to her ‘stage’ character. I wonder if more could have been done with the artificality angle – why not a small 18th century audience? why not fireworks – visually probably only, not aurally – at the end?

The sets, as often with the Met, seemed fussily massive – I suppose they have to be to fill that huge stage. Obviously there has to be a sense of a rich person’s house in the Prologue but there was a preposterous large spiral staircase, hardly used, for instance, and the set seemed altogether too large for the context. It was altogether very different from some of the sparse Moshinsky 70’s productions at Covent Garden – Lohengrin and Peter Grimes, I’m thinking of. The second was basically decorated backdrops and curtains but quite why the nymphs needed to be high up in their ridiculous chariots was beyond me. Still, I suppose the sets offered a perfectly reasonable framework for the story.

Marek Janowski is a seasoned, not to say veteran (aged now 83, but not looking it), Strauss specialist and his conducting seemed beautifully paced – not over-indulgent (the Prologue positively rattled along) but radiant when it needed to be in the ‘Ariadne’ performance, and the Met orchestra made a remarkably refulgent sound for what is basically a chamber orchestra. The piano seemed more prominent than in some of the recordings I’ve heard.

Lise Davidsen as Ariadne was quite extraordinary. She has a beautiful lower register, offered lovely high soft singing when needed, and crystal clear top notes. Hers is also obviously – even if its full extent can’t be captured by microphones – an extremely powerful voice, soaring over everyone else and pinging off the back walls of the Met. She sounded every bit as good as people say she is. She was wearing as a crown the ornament once worn by Leonie Rysanek and Jessye Norman. I was bitterly disappointed to have to forego her Grieg/Wagner recital in January and I am looking forward to hearing her sing the Four Last Songs in May.  She absolutely is a star,

Two voices that some critics complained about a bit, Brenda Rae as Zerbinetta, and Isabel Leonard as the Composer, both came across well in the broadcast, and both are extremely good actors. Brandon Jovanovich on the other hand sounded insensitive and straining – it makes me a bit worried about the Lohengrin performance at ROHCG in May of his I’m going to see……The other excellent performer was Johannes Martin Kränzle as the Music Master, who added to my positive opinion of him formed from his performance of Beckmesser at Bayreuth

Sky Ingram, Alcina; Patrick Terry, Ruggiero; Mari Askvik, Bradamante; Fflur Wyn, Morgana; Nick Pritchard, Oronte, Claire Pascoe, Melissa. Laurence Cummings, Conductor; Tim Albery, Director; Hannah Clark, Set and Costume Designer;

“Tim Albery‘s new production is inspired by Princess Margaret’s Mustique or Richard Branson’s Necker – a very private, tropical island retreat. In this case, the island is the home of a woman of great beauty, power and wealth who, siren-like, seduces and entrances men, casting them aside when she grows bored with them. This is Alcina. She meets her match in a newly-arrived young man, in fact a woman in disguise come to reclaim her fiancé from Alcina’s enchantment.”

“As they and the rest of Alcina’s entourage become trapped by their ever more complex fears and desires, the sun-drenched beach is left behind and they lose themselves deeper and deeper in the darkening forest, becoming little more than wild beasts, all sophistication stripped away…”

Thus the publicity on the Opera North website. The set is box-like – with a video screen covering the back, and banks of lights above and to each side. The effect is to emphasise the artificiality, the closed in-ness of the island on which the characters find themselves or on which they see based. The lights perhaps are also reminiscent of a night club – another place of fantasy. The lights at the beginning and end of each Act moved to stage level – again emphasising a probing reality beyond the island. The video screen showed the journey to the island and then moved inland through the tropical trees and ferns and creepers. The video movement through the trees seemed a bit arbitrary and didn’t seem particularly linked to the plot the moving inwards. The video wasn’t used – a bit to my disappointment – to suggest the clearing of Ruggiero’s vision to see all Alcina’s transformed former lovers transformed into trees etc……! The only props were some up market seaside-type furniture and a bear-skin. Costumes were broadly contemporary, apart from Alcina’s ball gown which seemed to be from an earlier period. All costumes and props were recycled and the opera was billed as the first fully sustainable opera production in the UK

The Forest of Arden came to my mind   and the island of Alcina seemed similarly a laboratory for relationships. In this production all the protagonists are young people, and relationships is what obsesses them – who’s in love with who and who self and others really are. Mainstream critics were a bit dismissive of Tim Albery’s production but I thought it was very effective, if slightly low-key. All the singers acted credibly and moved imaginatively in the long da capo arias. The ins and outs of the plot were clearly followable. Nothing was exaggerated – there was no obtrusive concept distorting action or characters. We felt for Alcina in her lovely aria Il mio coro   and for Ruggiero, Morgana, Oronte and Bradamante. Some reviewers felt too much had been cut for this ‘performing edition’ – an hour some said – but to me two and a half hours of Handel is enough, and I didn’t feel that the plot suffered unduly from the cuts. On occasion perhaps the recitative element seemed a bit short and we plunged from one long aria to another a bit too quickly, but that was fine by me, given the variety of the music. I really enjoyed the music – every number seemed a hit! The music in its energy, brilliance  melancholy and pain was not just illuminating the feelings and the complexities of the characters but also in its creative zest was life affirming. The sheer fecundity of invention makes you feel better!

But to have impact in this work, as with other Handel operas, you have to have absolutely first rate singers capable of the vocal acrobatics the style demands. While none of the singers could perhaps be described as outstanding  no-one was less than highly competent and all had particular high points. Handel also gives each of them a lot to do!

The stand out singers perhaps were Morgana (particularly her set-piece Act 1 aria ‘Tornami a vagheggiar’) and Oronte, in terms of the clarity of their runs and their beauty of tone. But Ruggerio and Bradamante matched them on occasion. The Alcina was Sky Ingram, a late replacement for an indisposed Máire Flavin, who had a tall imposing stage presence. Her voice sounded a bit large and unwieldy for this music, but she got more nimble as the work proceeded.

I really enjoyed this evening – much more than I was expecting!!!!

London Symphony Orchestra, Harry Christophers (replacing Simon Rattle). Lucy Crowe soprano, Andrew Staples tenor, Roderick Williams baritone, LS0 Chorus. Haydn – The Creation (sung in English)

This Thursday performance was part of the Barbican’s  40th Anniversary celebrations, and there was a free glass of prosecco to greet everyone with a ticket, plus some young /local community performers. There seemed to be a number of people – at least in the Stalls – who sounded in their conversation like senior Arts admin / BBC types. On the stairs leaving, I was behind Nicholas Kenyon, ex-BBC and the administrator of the Barbican for 14 years until he fell on his sword, accused of institutional racism, who was being greeted by all and sundry. Inevitably there was a speech – several in fact- referencing the last 40 years, including somebody gushing about the presence of the LSO for that period, and having ‘one of the greatest orchestras in the world’ associated with the hall. This is faintly absurd when their music director has spent the last 5 years denigrating the place and trying to get somebody to build a new concert hall! And, indeed, the inadequacy of the hall is very apparent – no organ, cramped space for chorus, let alone the much-complained-about acoustics. There was also a speech and dedication of the concert to the people of Ukraine – while this is a very deserving cause and issue, I can’t help reminding myself that people in Afghanistan / Yemen / South Sudan have been as much impacted on by war and violence as, sadly, people in Ukraine and without quite the same UK solidarity or appeal for funds

Because of the Barbican junketing, the performance had a later start – 8pm – and played without a break. This was good – the third Adam and Eve section seems slighter than the other two sections and running at a lower level of inspiration, so playing it straight through gives that section less important in structural terms. I hadn’t realised till I read the programme notes that no-one knows who wrote the libretto. It’s clearly a contemporary or near contemporary piece of writing – one theory suggests it was put to Handel, who never got round to working on it. Whatever the origins of the work, I have found it increasingly a joy to listen to – always inventive, joyful, and radiating contentment without sounding complacent.

Maybe, perhaps, because of the space problems on the Barbican stage, maybe, perhaps, because of some effect Simon Rattle wanted to achieve, the chorus was interestingly placed – not behind the orchestra as per normal but in front of the orchestra in the first 3-4 rows of central Stalls. This meant they sat facing the orchestra when they weren’t singing, and then all stood up and turned clockwise to face the audience when it was their turn to sing. I was probably too near to them to be able to judge the impact – it didn’t seem to affect the accuracy and responsiveness of the singing, and they made a thrilling sound (perhaps sometimes blocking the sound of the orchestra from where I was).  Apparently Simon Halsey, their Chorus Director, stood at the back of the stalls to direct the singers he had prepared, so he rather than TV monitors showing the conductor was what was guiding the chorus. It must still have been quite disconcerting for Harry Christophers!

The soloists were all good but one of my favourite singers, Lucy Crowe, was much more than that  – she offered singing of a quite extraordinarily high standard: not just beauty of voice, but also her clarity of diction,  not just her coloratura and easy flowing top notes but also her way with words – the way in which words like ‘enchanted’ and ‘cooing’ were floated to give an extra sense of delight. The two big arias – the birds one (“On mighty pens uplifted”) and “With verdure clad” – were quite outstanding. The other two singers were good but less outstandingly distinctive, and maybe some of the lower notes were slightly uncomfortable for Roderick Williams

Simon Rattle had been booked to conduct this but he made another cancellation, recovering from a minor operation. Harry Christophers certainly achieved a rhythmically vital and energetic performance . Quite what Rattle would have done with it more than what Christophers achieved I am not sure. The LSO were excellent, with polished woodwind contributions, and the precision of the music-making at all times was impressive

I thought this was very good but somehow not quite as overwhelming as it should have been, given the line-up – I am not sure the chorus positioning quite worked for me, from where I was sitting.

String Quartet No. 1, “Kreutzer Sonata”, Janacek; String Quartet No 2, in D Minor, Smetana: Fibonacci Quartet

The Fibonacci String Quartet was formed in September 2019 and consists of students of David Takeno and Louise Hopkins at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama in London, UK. It is an international ensemble, bringing together Czech, Belgian, Swedish and Montenegrin nationalities. The quartet is coached and mentored by Krysia Osostowicz, a renowned violinist and chamber musician. They stepped in at short notice to replace another covid-struck quartet.

They sounded mature and confident and this was an enjoyable 50 minutes or so. Neither work do I know well, though I have a recording of the two works. The Smetana I would want to come back to and listen again – Schoenberg apparently called it the ‘first piece of modern music’ ever created;  I am not sure on what grounds……But it is certainly a substantial interesting piece of music. So, is the Janacek of course, but – maybe the performance, maybe the fact that I was having to walk everywhere because of the train strike, I wasn’t as gripped by the Janacek, and, sadly, drifted off to sleep at one or two points. I am sure that’s my problem, not the players………..

Sir András Schiff, fortepiano; Erich Höbarth, violin,  and Christophe Coin, ‘cello. Joseph Haydn : Two piano sonatas and two trios

This was meant to be part of a Haydn chamber music festival going on at the Wigmore Hall throughout the week (I was just attending one of the performances) with an intended programme of 2 string quartets by Haydn plus one each of his piano trios and sonatas. Unfortunately, the violist of Quatuor Mosaïques, scheduled to perform with Sir Andras Schiff, tested positive for Covid a week or so ago, and so they were unable to leave Austria to join the concerts. This in turn necessitated a last-minute rethink and programme changes, in order for the festival to go ahead.

Sir András Schiff agreed to play additional Haydn Sonatas in order to save the festival. This concert, as with the others, ended up including two of the six Haydn Piano Trios previously advertised across the week. The Trios were performed by Sir András, Erich Höbarth and Christophe Coin. All this meant that there was a fair amount of uncertainty as to what was going to be played each evening. We learned, as there were no programme sheets, from Sir Andras Schiff’s introductions to the programmed works what we were hearing. So I can’t give chapter and verse on what I heard – the two piano sonatas I recall were dated to the 1770’s – so fairly early – and the two piano trios were from his London period or later. Sir Andras was playing a fortepiano made by Paul Mcnulty after Walter & Sohn from an original of 1805, so pretty contemporary to Haydn. Its thin, tinny and unresonant tone took a bit of getting used to, but, when the ear did adjust, it was remarkable how clear and transparent it made the music and how relevant the performing styles of musicians like Alfred Brendel and Paul Lewis, who emphasise clarity in their performances on ‘normal’ pianos, are to Mozart and Haydn. Sir Andras made the piano sonatas sound somehow more delicate, more nuanced in emotion. I thought all the performances were absorbing and left me constantly attentive to what was happening in the music. None of them were particularly conventional ‘jolly’ Haydn – they all had dark undercurrents, particularly the first sonata played, a product of Haydn’s Sturm und Drang period

The 85 minutes of this concert, without an interval, went astonishingly quickly. I thought this was a great evening – and so did the audience, who cheered loudly!

Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla – Conductor; Patricia Kopatchinskaja – Violin; Tchaikovsky Romeo and Juliet, Stravinsky Violin Concerto, Tchaikovsky Symphony No. 4

This was an incredibly powerful and exciting – but also stylish – concert. I am sure it will be one of my highlights of the year, when I look back in December.

It was a concert of course very much with the thought of the conflict in Ukraine in the minds of everyone in the hall. The conductor’s rostrum and the screen behind the orchestra were both covered with the blue and yellow colours of the Ukrainian flag. Stephen Maddocks, the Orchestra’s MD came on beforehand to say that the concert would be dedicated to the recognition of the suffering of Ukraine, that we must also remember the many ordinary Russians suffering as well, in addition to those who have bravely criticised Russia’s aggression, and that the CBSO was firmly against any ‘cancel’ culture for Russian music – music offered the opportunity for people to understand and be moved across cultures. There are indeed aspects of the current support for Ukraine that strike me as dubious – the mass cancellation of activities, events, performers, sports-people simply because they are Russian seems to be a distinctly wrong note and likely to do more harm than good (though fair enough if they have displayed unequivocal support for Putin now or in the past, as with Gergiev or Netrebko – but not many ordinary Russians would be demonstrating that).

Mirga then came on stage to deliver some quite outstanding Tchaikovsky performances. There were common features here:

• Using the acoustic properties of the hall to maximum effect to provide a lively detailed orchestral sound
• Relatively measured speeds, and a disinclination to speed up and slow down to deliver instant excitement (the Leningrad Phil Mravinsky recordings are very similar in this respect). This means that the conductor is letting the music, and the musicians breathe, and giving the orchestra have time to phrase effectively and sensitively. Another outcome of measured speeds is greater rhythmic vitality
• Very careful control of sound dynamics
• Excellent balance of the different elements in the orchestra – no braying brass or overwhelming percussion and timps
• But on the other hand, letting things rip when the roof really needs to be raised!

I hadn’t sat near to Mirga before at a concert – she is fascinating to watch, particularly the use of her hands to sculpt what she wants from the orchestra, and clearly a great orchestral communicator

It must be nearly 57 years since I first heard Romeo and Juliet on record. I remember going to a live concert  – one of those Tchaikovsky Victor Hochhauser spectaculars with 1812 guns – in the Albert Hall in about 1966 where it was played. Mirga/CBSO’s performance must be the best I have ever heard – the strings soared, beautiful woodwind playing in the opening, brass and percussion thrilling in the fights.

The Tchaikovsky 4 was, similarly, one of the best I have heard live. There was, again, some beautiful playing (particularly oboe and bassoon), thrilling sounds (timpanist making a most exciting noise), and luscious strings. I have never heard the final downward cascade of strings at the end of the first movement (slowed down, a la Mravinsky) sound so powerful, so charged with emotion. in any other live performance, or the central part of the slow movement so drenched with emotion as the strings welled up. I also enjoyed the rhythmic punch of the third movement

In a very different tradition, I also hugely enjoyed Patricia Kopatchinskaja (the Moldovan-Austrian-Swiss violinist)’s performance of the Stravinsky concerto. It’s not a work I’ve heard much live and I really enjoyed focusing on it – it goes much beyond Stravinsky’s more tedious neo-classical works, and has much of the bite of the earlier rhythmically focused pre WW1 pieces, as well as the grace and poise of Pulcinella and other similar pieces. Ms Kopatchinskaya radiated physical and instrumental energy and focus – her physical presence, barefoot!, helped you to follow the forward momentum of the piece. She gave her imagined cadenza for the work as an encore.

The orchestra as a whole concluded the concert with a moving melancholy piece called, I think, ‘“Melody from the High Pass” by Ukrainian composer Myroslav Skoryk (1938-2020)