BBC SO Volkov, Hodges, BBC Singers, Barbican 22 Jan 2013

Grisey: Mégalithes

Dufourt: On the Wings of the Morning

Boulez: Cummings ist der Dichter

Beethoven: Symphony No. 7

BBC Symphony Orchestra, BBC Singers

Ilan Volkov, conductor

Nicolas Hodges, piano

Even by BBCSO standards, Grisey’s Mégalithes is a whacky concert opener. The horn section sits around the front of the podium, facing away from the audience, and the rest of the brass section is distributed around the auditorium, providing antiphonal effects that bounce around front to back and left to right. It’s an early work, dating from 1969, when Grisey was still a student of Messiaen and the Paris Conservatoire. There’s no spectralism as such here, but all of the musical preoccupations that we now identify with that school are very much in evidence. Performance techniques are “extended” to say the least, and the pitch content of the music is the last of the composer’s concerns. Instead, he has the brass players create all manner of semi-pitched and unpitched effects with their instruments. But radical as the sounds are, the linear structure of the music is surprisingly conventional. The antiphony is clearly discernible, with a sound effect – slapping the mouthpiece to create a pop, say – proposed in one corner of the hall, then repeated in another corner with some slight elaboration added. And the music builds to climaxes through gradual crescendos and increasing weight of texture then ebbs back to a state of repose. Compared to the structural obscurity of Grisey’s mature work, this piece proceeds with the formal clarity of a Haydn sonata.

Next came the Dufourt concerto, and that was whackier still. Actually, concerto is the wrong word for this piece, which carries the title On the Wings of the Morning. It may be an extended work for piano solo and orchestra, but it continually resists all of the gestures and rhetoric that characterise the form. It’s a new piece, written in 2012 and this evening receiving its UK premiere, and it is very much in the spirit of the spectralist movement. In fact, Dufourt is responsible for the term “musique spectral”, although he seems more like a disciple of that movement’s leaders than a trend setter himself. The music here is all about inscrutably complex and gradually shifting textures. The large string section rarely settles on a stable pitch, instead moving around in tremolo glissando in a constantly shifting web of sound. The winds are all engaged in various extended performance techniques, at least as many as in the Grisey, although this time the resulting sounds are usually pitched. Against all this Nicolas Hodges pounds away at the piano keys. He’s usually half obscured by the orchestra, but that is clearly deliberate, and only occasionally rises to the surface with some emphatic fortissimo gesture, usually at the top of the keyboard. Despite the breadth of this work, the piano part is surprisingly sporadic, mostly consisting of short snatches of highly articulate music, each followed by a couple of seconds of silence before the next begins.

Against all the odds, the work seemed to have a nominal three movement structure, with a quiet, slow interlude between the vast, monolithic opening and closing sections. The performance seemed a little vulnerable here, as if the greater scrutiny the sparse textures afforded allowed us to hear the individual players wrestling with their obviously impossibly hard parts. No such problems for Nicolas Hodges though; he was his usual unflappable self, sitting attentively but relaxed at the piano, seemingly oblivious to the speed at which his hands were moving around the keyboard and the violent extremes of sound that they were producing. It’s a fascinating piece, and the colours and textures that make it up are endlessly engaging, but it could do with more imaginative structuring. The incessant tutti that makes up about the first half of the work clearly has much going on inside it in terms of gradual evolution of texture and harmonic colour, but when it subsides into the quiet central section, the music up to that point is remembered as just a barrage of sound, its details lost to all but the most attentive.

Cumming is der Dichter continued the French modernist theme. The BBC Singers joined a reduced BBC SO and demonstrated their unquestioned skill in this, their core repertoire. The sheer competency of the performers, combined with Volkov’s reluctance to push the more overt sections, made this a technically accomplished but slightly comfortable reading. On the regular occasions that Boulez whips up a storm (albeit usually a very brief one) in the instrumental parts, the drama seemed to be over before it had started. The BBC Singers didn’t benefit from being brought to the middle, rather than the back, of the stage. It meant they were deprived of the amplifying effect of the back wall, reducing both the volume and the detail of their contributions.

Why tack Beethoven Seven onto the end of a concert like this? If it was intended to get bums on seats then it failed. If, on the other hand, it was meant as a balm for our by then much bruised ears, then perhaps it did its job. This wasn’t a particularly distinguished performance - the symphony was no doubt at the bottom of the list of rehearsal priorities – but it was a lot of fun. Volkov hadn’t done much to unify the phrasing within or between sections, nor was the balance particularly impressive, but he was clearly enjoying himself. He had a big smile on his face throughout the first movement, and that feeling was infectious, spreading to all the players in the orchestra. It was all a bit rough around the edges, and there were one or two quite serious ensemble problems, especially between the strings and winds in the development of the first movement. It had redeeming features too, the incessant drive of the finale was impressive, and the symphony ended well (although the first two movements didn’t). A fun rendition, but even from the opening bars there was a feeling that the main substance of the evening was behind us, and that the Beethoven was not so much a grand conclusion to the performance as an undemanding epilogue.

This concert was broadcast live on BBC Radio 3 and can be heard online until 29 January at: http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b03q5hb4

 

BBC SO Bychkov Katia and Marielle Labèque 16 Jan 2014

Martinů: Concerto for Two Pianos and Orchestra

Shostakovich: Symphony No. 7

BBC Symphony Orchestra

Katia and Marielle Labèque

Barbican, London, 16 January 2014

The BBC Symphony Orchestra plays well for Semyon Bychkov. He’s a disciplined conductor and has an excellent baton technique, allowing him to unify this orchestra in a way that few others manage. He has an ear for detail, in balance and ensemble, but even more so in phrasing. Nothing is left to chance. That’s not to say his interpretations lack lyricism, or that he’s unwilling to give soloists space: he is, and the passages of relative freedom he allows the players complement the more emphatically led tuttis. In fact, Bychkov gets the very best out of every orchestra he conducts, but with the BBC SO there seems to be a special chemistry that works to everybody’s advantage. He currently holds the more-or-less honorary Günter Wand Conducting Chair with the orchestra, which sadly doesn’t guarantee as many London appearances as audiences here would like. But it’s currently his only official position (surprising, given his eminence) so perhaps we can look forward to a few more concerts with him in forthcoming seasons.

This evening’s concert opened with Martinů’s Concerto for Two Pianos and Orchestra, which was a family affair, as the soloists were the Labèque sisters, one of whom is married to Bychkov. The score is typical Martinů, all saturated orchestral textures and dense, scurrying piano writing. The first movement is particularly impressive, as it lands running, at a pretty hectic pace, and then maintains the momentum for its entire duration. Then there is a slow movement, dominated by woodwind solos and ensembles, and then the finale, which is a bit more rhythmically complex and involves a greater range of textures and tempos than the first. The BBC SO’s previous Chief Conductor, Jiři Bělohlávek, led the orchestra in a complete Martinů symphony cycle a few years ago and trained the players well in the composer’s unique style. Despite the density and complexity of his orchestration, Martinů always harks back to the sounds of Czech folk music. The players this evening really managed to project that sense of rustic simplicity through the dense layering of the music. The Labèque sisters gave a convincing account of the solo parts, all very emotive and mobile, with lots of writhing heads and swishing hair. I thought they could have hammered out the important rhythms and cross-rhythms a bit more though; Martinů obviously expects those to come through - though he doesn’t do much to help them in his orchestration. A bit more definition in the solo lines might have helped clarify the shape and direction of this often wayward and opaque music.

There was nothing wayward or opaque about the opening movement of the “Leningrad”, quite the opposite. Bychkov has something of a reputation as a Shostakovich interpreter, and this performance demonstrated exactly why. He’s also a Leningrader himself, which must make a difference. In this first movement everything came together. From the opening unison phrase it was clear that a great deal of time and effort had gone into getting the style and phrasing right. The notes were slightly detached and the phrasing slightly clipped, the better to delineate the shape of the line. Balances were ideal throughout this tricky movement, and the gradual climax through the invasion theme section was perfectly paced. The string sound was energetic, but had the dark quality required of the much of the music. Excellent woodwind solos, excellent snare drum too.

If the remainder of the symphony didn’t quite maintain the standard of excellence set by this first movement, it certainly came close. Some fatigue was evident in the later movements, and the players’ control of their tone colour, and of balance within sections, suffered a little. But it was still a great performance. Bychkov allowed the music of the middle movements some space to breathe, bringing some poetry to this otherwise austere context. Not too much though, and the discipline was always maintained. And in the finale, he was able to at least acknowledge the undertones of dissent and doubt, yet his tempos remained disciplined, always focussing the music towards its inevitably triumphant conclusion. And when it came, no doubts remained. Even at these loudest dynamics, the balance within the orchestra continued to be finely judged, as did the tone colours, especially from the blazing brass. A triumphant conclusion to a memorable concert.

                                                                                                                        

This concert was broadcast live on BBC Radio 3 and can be heard until 23^rd Jan at: http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b03pdh5l

Berlioz: L’enfance du Christ BBC SO Roth Barbican 15.12.13

Berlioz: L’enfance du Christ,

Karen Cargill (mez), Yann Beuron (ten), Marcus Farnsworth (bar), Christopher Purvis (bs), BBC SO and Chorus, Trinity Laban Chamber Choir, François-Xavier Roth (cond.), Barbican Hall, London 15.12.13

After the high-octane Berlioz performances from Gergiev and Salonen earlier in the year, this more measured reading from François-Xavier Roth came as a welcome relief. Patience and clarity are his primary virtues, and in this work they count for a lot. For all the pastoral grace of L’enfance du Christ, there is plenty of drama here, and Roth was able to bring that out too. But on the whole, this was an intimate and reflective reading; well sung, well played, and carefully balanced to bring out all the distinctive details of the work’s scoring and structure.

The BBC Symphony Orchestra and Chorus fielded surprisingly large forces, filling the stage with players and singers. Neither the ensemble nor the balance suffered, and Roth employed the huge ensemble more to round out the warmth or the quieter passages than to up the dynamics in the few climaxes. The sound of the large string section performing the muted lyrical lines in the opening section was particularly attractive, and an early taste of what was to come in terms of finely controlled tone colour and balance

Roth and/or the BBC assembled a close to ideal line up of soloists, each bringing real character and a distinctive sound to their respective parts. Yann Beuron has a rich, clear voice, and the almost unique ability to fill the dull Barbican acoustic with his ringing tone. His performance was perhaps a little too emotive for the essentially expositionary role of the narrator, although it was better suited to the role of the Centurion. Christopher Purvis brought all the menace of his recent performance in Written on Skin to the part of Herod, giving an appropriately sinister reading without ever tipping over into unintentional comedy. His voice is particularly fine in the lower part of his range, and Berlioz seems to have written the part for just such a voice, setting all the most menacing lines lower down. Francophone listeners may take issue with some of his pronunciation, but from my monoglot(ish) perspective, I’ve not cause to complain.

As the new mum and dad, Karen Cargill and Marcus Farnsworth made an excellent pairing, the colour and weight of their voices balancing well. Cargill has a very heavy and always-on vibrato, which isn’t really to my taste, but is probably appropriate to the repertoire. In general, though, her voice is light and fresh, as is Farnsworth’s, bringing an ideal sense of youthfulness to two roles.

While Roth never goes to dramatic extremes, neither does he play it safe. In particular, he uses the very quietest passages of the score to take all the performers outside their comfort zone. Cargill’s first aria, towards the end of the first part, is accompanied by some complex textures in the strings and woodwind, yet everything is at a very low dynamic. Roth allowed her to sing as quietly as she liked, forcing the players to bring out their complex lines, yet at the very lowest dynamic. The results were fragile but secure, and exquisitely beautiful.

At the other end of the spectrum, Roth drew a wide range of textures and colours from the chorus. He made the very most of the Sheppard’s’ Farewell, emphasising all the dynamic swells and hard accents, but without ever exaggerating the effects or risking pedantry. And the chorus delivered magnificently, both here and in the polyphonic section at the start of the third part, their two major contributions. Choirmaster Stephen Jackson, who no-doubt drilled the singers well for this appearance, was not on-stage, but was at the back of the hall, on the upper balcony, directing the off-stage angelic choir. Our angels this afternoon were the Chamber Choir of Trinity Laban, who sang well, although this wasn’t music to challenge them. The placement of the choir was inspired: given the problems that this hall poses when it comes to positioning vocal ensembles, on- or off-stage, the distant yet clear sound that this placing created was surprisingly effective.

The Epilogue to the work was particularly well handled. The music here is quiet and gentle, and again Roth went to daring extremes, taking the dynamics down to create extraordinary delicate and subtle textures. Now Beuron was able to demonstrate another facet of his art, a focussed pianissimo, as clear and rich as his louder declamations at the start, and projecting just as well. An elegant and touching close to a moving performance, one very much to the credit of all involved.

This performance was broadcast live on BBC Radio and will be available to listen on demand until 22^nd December 2013.

Urban Classic Prom Review

Prom 37: Urban Classic Prom, BBC Symphony Orchestra, Jules Buckley cond

(Jacob Banks. Image: Mark Allan)

Just four days ago, the BBC Symphony Orchestra was at the Albert Hall performing Lutosławski and Holst, now here they are accompanying Fazer from N-Dubz. The ever-expanding ambitions of the Proms can be gauged by the bizarre diversity of the music these players find on their stands as the season progresses. It’s rare to hear a full symphony orchestra at an urban music gig. Rare, but not unprecedented. The Urban Classic Prom is the third “Urban Classic” event to have combined young urban artists with BBC orchestras. Last year, they put on a similar event at the Barbican, and on the strength of its success they’ve now brought the concept to the Proms.

The audience tonight must have been a dream come true for the BBC’s demographics department. The idea was to combine classical and urban music, in the hope that the audiences for both genres would come along. And so they did. Well-dressed teens and 20-somethings made up at least half of the audience, while the rest seemed to be the standard middle aged and older Proms regulars. The arena season ticket holders were scared off though, and there was no unison announcement at the end of the interval about how much we had raised for musical charities. But their places were enthusiastically taken by a younger generation, who transformed the arena into a proper moshpit.

Each half began with something properly classical, the first with Mosolov’s Zavod, the second with “Dance of the Maenads” from Henze’s The Bassarids. As the Mosolov started up, it became clear that the orchestra was heavily amplified. That’s no great sin in urban music, nor should it be in the Albert Hall, given the state of the acoustic here. But the amplification was too much, giving a synthetic sheen to the string sound and obliterating what little subtlety there is in Mosolov’s industrial sounds.

For the rest of the gig, the orchestra was essentially reduced to a backing band. Additions included three excellent backing singers tucked in to the left of the woodwind, a keyboard player with some funky analogue synths, and a drummer, the rock-steady Troy Miller, sitting centre stage encircled in glass isolation panels.

Conductor Jules Buckley has the ideal stage presence for this set up. He is professional but unassuming, and the ideal foil (and occasional straight man) for the more ego-driven soloists. Buckley was responsible for some of the orchestral arrangements, and on the night acted as diplomat and go-between for the two performing cultures.

The six headline acts were well chosen: all young, obscenely talented, and with enough musical personality for each to stand out. The first act was Maverick Sabre. He’s a Soul singer of the old school, though he is only in his early 20s. Sabre’s style benefited from the lush orchestral backing; the BBC SO strings playing heavily amplified chords beneath his rich vocal.

Next up was Laura Mvula. She’s a great artist for this project, properly ‘urban’ but also classically trained and well able to find her way around a piano keyboard. She sang three numbers, each in a completely different style and mood. The most impressive was Father, Father, which ended the first half. For the first verse she was accompanied by a chorale of trombones and in the second by a similarly evocative string accompaniment. This was one of Buckley’s arrangements, and one of the best orchestrations of the evening.

Jacob Banks had the most impressive voice of any of this evening’s soloists. He is a young man, tall and with a narrow frame. But his voice is just extraordinary, deep and throaty with lots of soul. He could easily make a career in opera (I’d love to hear his Sarastro), but it would be a shame to divert him from this rich, bluesy soul.

The rap acts were Fazer, Lady Leshurr and Wretch 32. Judging by the apoplexy that greeted his name every time it was mentioned, Fazer was the big draw of the evening. He certainly knows how to hold the stage and how to work the audience. His vocal is slick and focussed, and carries well across the huge orchestra. Lady Leshurr is a high-octane performer. Her stock in trade is a fast, percussive patter, rhythmically propulsive and again well-suited to orchestral backing.

But backing is all the orchestra really did this evening, and the promised meeting of classical and urban music was weighted almost exclusively towards the latter. The aim of introducing new audiences to classical music is hardly going to be furthered by presenting a symphony orchestra as a little-used backing band. One or two of the orchestral effects really worked, that lush string sound for the soul music, the trombone chorales for Laura Mvula, and some occasional mariachi outbursts from the trumpets towards the end. But in general, the 80-odd players of the BBC SO collectively made a far smaller contribution that the four-piece rhythm section.

Returning home and listening on the radio, it became apparent that we had been missing much of the orchestral detail in the hall. That was partly due to the excessive amplification, but ultimately comes down to the dreadful acoustic of the space. How depressing that even this music is defeated by the scale of the Albert Hall. Still, it was well worth going for the sheer buzz of the live event, being part of an audience as enthusiastic and casual as anything you’ll meet at the Last Night. But, as always with the Proms, it was a case this evening of going along to the Albert Hall to experience the atmosphere, then going home and turning on the radio to find out what you’d missed.