Schoenberg Master and Pupil Jane Manning Kings Place 4.3.14

Zemlinsky: Three Pieces for Cello and Piano (1891)

Dallapiccola: Ciaccona, Intermezzo and Adagio (1946)

Nono: ¿Donde estás, hermano?

Schoenberg: Pierrot lunaire

Jane Manning (soprano); Benjamin Baker (violin); Rohan de Saram (cello); Susan Milan (flute/piccolo); David Campbell (clarinet/bass clarinet); Julian Jacobson (piano); Giora Bernstein (conductor); Alberto Portugheis (piano); Marie Jaermann (soprano); Seljan Nasibili (soprano); Katie Coventry (mezzo); Anna Migallos (alto)

Jane Manning gave her 100^th performance of Pierrot lunaire this evening, an extraordinary achievement by any standards. She has been singing this incredible song cycle for almost 50 years, and her affinity with the work’s unique gestural language is evident in every phrase. She has that crazed cabaret Schtick down to a T, all those spat out guttural phrases, the un-nerving switches of colour and emotion, the phrases that begin melodically but then degenerate into buzzing nasal consonants.

Sadly, her singing voice isn’t what it what was – how could it be after 50 years? So we missed many of the specifically musical aspects of the solo part. Schoenberg often combines registral extremes with dynamic extremes, and it takes a younger and more supple voice than Manning’s to achieve those kinds of acrobatics. Her Sprechstimme often seems more Sprech than Schoenberg stipulates, and Manning often struggles with the smooth, gradual transitions from speaking to singing and back again.

But otherwise this was a fine performance. Singing is only one of many talents the work demands of its soloist, and in every other respect of Manning’s reading was a triumph. Her diction is excellent, and her timing - musical, dramatic, and comic – is second to none. The clear, immediate acoustic of Kings Place benefited her performance, ensuring clarity of both line and word, and compensating for some of the loss of tone. The ensemble didn’t play down for her benefit, but the subtly and shading of the instrumental performances gave her plenty of aural space in which to present her lines.

Pierrot was given in the second half of the concert and was definitely the highlight. The title of the event was “Schönberg: Master & Pupil” and the works in the first half were intended to provide context for this early masterpiece. So, works were presented by Zemlinsky – teacher and father-in-law, Nono – son-in-law, Gerhard – pupil, and Dallapiccola – no personal connection but No. 1 fan. Despite his pivotal status in 20^th-century music, Schoenberg failed to provide a meaningful or apparent connection between any of these pieces, none of which (apart possibly from the Dallapiccola) came close to the quality of his own, and in every case the performances were found wanting.

The concert opened with Three Pieces for Cello composed by Alexander Zemlinsky in 1891. They’ve only recently been rediscovered, thanks to research by Raphael Wallfisch, so they don’t have much of a performance history. That isn’t reason enough to programme them here though, and they didn’t have much to add. If the intention was to demonstrate the conservatism of the musical world of Schoenberg’s youth, then the case was exaggerated through the use of student works that make Zemlinsky sound even more stylistically restricted than he was. The three short movements are pleasant enough, but these insecure and under-rehearsed performances from Rohan de Saram (who is surely capable of better things) and Alberto Portugheis did them no justice. De Saram then gave us Ciaccona, Intermezzo & Adagio by Luigi Dallapiccola, the one work in this first that earnt its keep. Dallapiccola, as was his wont, skilfully combines serial techniques with idiomatic and lyrical writing to impressively dramatic effect. But again, the performance was insecure and unfocussed in both intonation and tone production.

We then heard ¿Donde estás, hermano?,  a vocal quartet by Nono, performed here by four undergradates from the Royal College of Music. This piece seems to rely on approximate pitches, chosen to create transient dissonances and beat effects. The sense of approximation was apparent, but a bit more confidence would have helped. The first half ended with a performance of Gerhard’s Dances from Don Quixote given by Alberto Portugheis, who curated the event, but who (thankfully) was replaced at the piano by Julian Jacobson for the Schoenberg. The Gerhard was another interesting inclusion, with lots of folk material in the melodic lines seemingly locked in continuous tension with the more Schoenbergian harmonies beneath. As a result, Schoenberg’s influence on this music, while readily apparent, didn’t seem all that constructive. And, again, the performance was no better than adequate – enthusiastic and fluid, but technically insecure, even in the simplest passages.

Schoenberg’s Pierrot lunaire is always worth an outing, and even with her advancing years, Jane Manning’s interpretation is very fine. And acknowledging the work’s historical context in concert programming is a laudable aim too. But there has to be a better way to do it than this.

Platinum Consort OAE Christmas Oratorio Kings Place 19 December 2013

Bach: Christmas Oratorio: Parts I, III, V, VI

Platinum Consort, Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment

Scott Inglis-Kidger, cond

Kings Place, London 19 December 2013

In a season dominated by Messiahs, spare a thought for the Christmas Oratorio. Were it not for Handel’s perennial singalong, Bach’s masterpiece would have far higher visibility on our Christmas programmes – and it certainly does on the continent. But this evening, the Platinum Consort and the OAE made an impressive effort to redress the balance. The results were festive, lively, imaginative, and, above all, joyous from beginning to end.

The Oxbridge chapel choir culture benefits the wider musical scene in this country in all sorts of subtle and indirect ways, but in recent years, a more direct channel for the talents they foster has been established, in the form of professional chamber choirs made up of their recent alumni. Platinum Consort is one such ensemble, established in Cambridge in 2004. When it comes to Bach, they’re competing with the best, and a few concessions need to be made for the performers’ age and level of experience. Even so, this is an impressive choir, one with a distinct identity and a clear passion for the music. The over-riding emotion in Bach’s Christmas Oratorio is joy; it’s an exuberating an up-front work, and that’s exactly how these young singers presented it. The choruses that open the first and sixth parts demonstrated this perfectly. Sure, there were slight ensemble problems here, but any lack of unity in execution contrasted a firm unit of intent. The singing was clear, focussed and committed - there was never any suggestion that they were just going through the motions.

Working with the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment was a mixed blessing for the singers. The OAE fielded a small ensemble, two violins on each desk but otherwise one to a part, but even in these small numbers the players dominated, if not in volume, then in experience and stylistic authority. The theorbo in the continuo was a particularly nice touch, and it is a credit to the exceptional Kings Place acoustic that he could always be heard. There were plenty of other fine things to hear from the orchestra too. The obbligatos from flautist Lisa Beznosiuk and leader Margaret Faultless were ideal. The fruity bassoon (Andrew Watts) was a real treat. And the trumpet section was led by the unparalleled David Blackadder, who stole the show every time he picked up his instrument – but how could he not?

Conductor Scott Inglis-Kidger, a co-founder of the choir, seemed to be aware that he could take the orchestra’s high standard of performance as read, and so focussed most of his attentions on the choir. He led diligently, ensuring the music breathed with the singers and was always carefully shaped. There was plenty of emotion here, and occasionally too much, especially in the chorales, which often seemed over-milked.

Soloists were drawn from the choir, and many of the young singers proved to be remarkably talented. The role of the Evangelist was taken by Benjamin Clark, a tenor who is surely destined for greatness. He sings with all the authority that the role demands, his tone focussed but rich, his diction ideal, and his sensitivity to music’s stylistic demands beyond question. Most of the other singers got a recitative and aria, and there were no weak links. Countertenor Raffaelle Pè deserves a mention. He sings with a sophistication that belies his age, his performance filled with nuance and shading far in advance of any of his colleagues. But, as I understand it, he is already on the fast track to an operatic career, and so probably doesn’t need any further promotion from me. One other name to look out for, though, is Eloise Irving. Her soprano voice is at the other end of the spectrum, pure and clear, with remarkable versatility and agility. She had one or two intonation problems on the faster runs, but overall, her solos were among the most satisfying of the evening.

An impressive performance then, of Bach’s underperformed (or so it seems in London) masterpiece. The singers demonstrated impressive skills, both as an ensemble and as soloists. If they were outclassed by the orchestra, there’s no great shame in that, given that the OAE is one of the world’s great period instrument ensembles. In fact, the programme suggested that further collaborations are planned. If the result is further performances like this, that can only be a good thing.

Martinů Quartet with Olga Vinokur (piano) Kings Place 27 October 2013

Martinů Quartet with Olga Vinokur (piano) Kings Place 27 October 2013

Mozart: Piano Quintet in G Minor K 478

Martinů: String Quartet No. 2

Taneyev: Piano Quintet

Mozart, Martinů, Taneyev: a satisfyingly diverse and unusual programme this evening from the Martinů Quartet and pianist Olga Vinokur. Yet none of the three composers are particularly obscure, so the fact that two of them hardly ever appear on chamber music programmes in this country is an indictment of the conservatism of our venues and ensembles. But the works were chosen well, each characteristic of the respective composer’s style, and the Martinů and Taneyev were well performed, making an excellent case for the live presentation of such unduly neglected works.

Neglected in the West that is. The Czech ensemble and Russian/American pianist come from performance cultures where Taneyev and Martinů are far from obscure, and their innate sensitivity to the musical styles of these two composers went a long way towards the success of the performances. The Mozart, however, was a different story. Nowhere in the standard repertoire is the stylistic division between East and West more apparent than in this composer’s work. Performers from Eastern Europe have no qualms about applying a Romantic mode of expression, with continuous legato blurring the lines, and dynamics that regularly go to extremes. The period performance movement has made little impression here, which is probably just as well, as the ideas it presents run in direct opposition to many of the underlying principles of this sort of interpretation. On its own terms, it was a technically proficient performance, and emotive too, but it really wasn’t to my taste, for which I’ll happily take the blame.

No such problems with the Martinů Second String Quartet though. Given that the ensemble is named after the composer, it is little surprise that their performance of his work is idiomatic in the extreme. It’s a great piece, infused with all sorts of folk material and, in the second movement, with the sounds of rustic, presumably Bohemian, hymnody. But all these elements are combined into a tightly-argued work governed by a keen sense of structural rigour. The music is not as acerbic as later Bartók, although it is clearly of a similar persuasion. The players have a tone that suits this music well, rich but with a slightly unfocussed quality: shades of the folk fiddle, which was clearly also at the back of Martinů’s mind, especially in the lively violin duet that opens the work. Throughout the piece, the ensemble is repeatedly reduced to bring out solos in the middle and lower texture, and each of the players shone when Martinů trained his spotlight on them.

The Taneyev Piano Quintet is another work that deserves far more attention than it gets in the West, and the performance this evening, while not perfect, showcased its many qualities. It is a large piece, in four substantial movements, each with a strong melodic identity and well-argued, if sometimes conventional, structure. Again, the Eastern European qualities of the players’ approach really benefitted the work. Pianist Olga Vinokur is clearly of the Russian school, giving definite attack to every note, and bringing out every line of Taneyev’s often complex counterpoint. But she’s not as heavy-handed as some of her compatriots, and when she reduces the dynamic for the more lyrical developmental sections, she always integrates well into the ensemble. There were one or two passages that didn’t quite come off: the pp high violins at the opening lacked the security of intonation this passage needs, the ebullient second movement scherzo was not as nimble as it might have been, and the very low tessitura of the final coda section challenged the ensemble’s intonation and balance. But on the whole this was a fine performance that did this unjustly neglected masterpiece proud. And if we were in any doubt about the significance and influence of Taneyev on the later course of Russian music, for an encore we heard the Intermezzo of Shostakovich’s Piano Quintet, clearly modelled on the Passacaglia movement of Taneyev’s. The Shostakovich was given a magnificent performance, sensitive, delicate and finely controlled. An ideal close to a fascinating and adventurous concert.

The Sixteen Harry Christophers Kings Place 15 May 2013

Bach: Motet “Komm, Jesu, komm!”

Bach: Mass in G BWV 236

Bach: Motet: “Furchte dich nicht”

Bach: Mass in A BWV 234

The Sixteen, Harry Christophers (conductor), Kings Place, 15 May 2013

Bach’s Motets and smaller Masses are the odd ones out. Unlike his more numerous cantatas and his more famous passions, they do not help the listener to follow their structure through the alternation of arias and chorales. Nor do they fit easily into the forms of Protestant worship that characterise most of Bach’s other religious works. All of which makes programming them tricky. But Harry Christophers has come up with an effective format, a two-part concert in which each half begins with a Motet and is followed by a Mass. The choice of works on this evening’s programme fits the format particularly well, the Motet “Komm, Jesu, komm!” a bracing opener and the Mass in A a work with an appropriately monumental conclusion to end. And the differences between these two works and the other Motet, “Furchte dich nicht” and the other Mass, in G BWV 229, are sufficient to make for a satisfyingly diverse evening of music.

Hall One at Kings Place has a resonant venue but it’s hardly a church, and so a lot of this music can sound recontextualised simply by the acoustic. The hall affords the music a warmth, but never obscures the detail. In this context, The Sixteen sounds more like a group of soloists (which, of course, it is) than a homogeneous choir. The individual voices always come through, which both aids the counterpoint and instils a sense of humanity in the music, with the musical personality of each singer contributing something to the whole. Christophers fielded eight singers, divided into two choirs in the Motets and singing two to a part in the Masses. Given the calibre of vocal talent on display here, it was little surprise that both the choral singing and the vocal solos were all excellent. Many of the details that the exceptional acoustic allowed us to hear demonstrated just how fine the choral singing was. The top notes from the sopranos (Grace Davidson and Julia Doyle) for example, not a quality that Bach’s music usually shows off, were delicately placed and beautifully controlled in their timbre. Balance between the sections was always good, and diction was admirably clear throughout. The vocal solos in the Masses were also impressive. No weak links to speak of among the soloists, but the finest individual performance of the evening was from bass Ben Davies in the Domine Deus of the Mass in A. His voice is commanding without being overpowering. He has a distinctive tone and clear diction, and he is able to project admirably without exceeding the bounds of the Baroque aesthetic. Definitely a name to look out for.

Is it written in stone that the Orchestra of the Sixteen should be a period instrument band? Would the choir’s eminence in Renaissance repertoire be compromised if they were to be heard with modern instruments in Baroque and Classical music? I only ask because the orchestra this evening was not the equal of the choir. The instrumentalists played well as individuals (for the most part, there were a few ropey solos) but the group didn’t really gel as an ensemble. The wide range of timbres available to period instruments, especially the strings, requires a real unity of intent for the ensemble to cohere. I’d hesitate to call this group a scratch band, but they clearly don’t play together very often. Perhaps, under the circumstances, a modern instrument group would meet the challenges better – in the Masses that is, the continuo group (theorbo, chamber organ, violone and cello) was ideal in the Motets.

Christophers’ readings of these works balanced smooth legato flow with just enough accentuation to give the music shape. His tempos are generally fast, but never rigid, and the vocal phrases are always elegantly shaped. Christophers has a rare ability to make Bach’s music sound intuitive, and always more emotional than intellectual. The way he handles final cadences is particularly effective, slowing down at just the right moment in the cadential preparation so that the final chords seem at one with the preceding music, yet unquestionably conclusive.

This was a performance to a high standard, and as such invites comparison with the very best. Christophers’ approach to the Motets resembles Gardiners, but Gardiner has the upper hand in terms of the elegance, grace and precision of his (larger?) choir. On the other hand, Christophers seeks a more monumental sound with this music, more reverential and more flowing. The problems of intonation and ensemble in Christophers’ orchestra, although minor, are the difference between this and the superior orchestral accompaniments on Masaaki Suzuki’s recordings. But then, it’s always unfair to compare a live performance with a commercial recording. Leaflets in the foyer on the way out invited contributions towards a new commercial recording of this repertoire. One incentive to donate is that we will then be able to compare like with like. There is certainly a huge amount of musical potential in these readings, and Christophers has some original ideas that could make their recordings genuinely distinctive. If the orchestra gets the chance to sort out the problems with their ensemble between now and then, these could prove to be very fine recordings indeed.