Raskatov Green Mass London Philharmonic Jurowski

Beethoven: Symphony No. 6
Raskatov: Green Mass (world premiere)


Elena Vassilieva soprano

Iestyn Davies countertenor
Mark Padmore tenor
Nikolay Didenko bass
Clare College Choir, Cambridge

Vladimir Jurowski conductor

London Philharmonic Orchestra

Alexander Raskatov (pictured above, image M.F. Plissart) is best known in the UK for his opera A Dog’s Heart, staged at ENO in 2010. The music there is anarchic, stylistically diverse and bleakly comical at every turn. But there is another side to the composer, a spiritual depth that informs his religious music, especially his choral works. The style there is unified and focussed, still distinctive, but refined in a way that his more overtly dramatic orchestral works are not.

Those two sides come together in Raskatov’s Green Mass, premiered this evening by the London Philharmonic under Vladimir Jurowski. It’s a huge work, 80 minutes of music for large orchestra, choir and four soloists. The piece explores two ideas, a setting of the Mass ordinary for these huge forces, and a celebration of nature, as expressed in poems by Blake, Georg Trakl, Velimir Khlebnikov, Apollinaire and Francis of Assisi, interspersed between the Mass movements. Raskatov is often accused of incoherency, so there is a clear danger here of the piece sounding like two separate works spliced together. In fact, it is impressively coherent. Raskatov’s trademark eclecticism is apparent throughout, and in every moment it feels like he is reaching out to find a new effect or musical device to deploy across the performing forces. But by doing this as much in the Mass movements as the poem settings, an uneasy, and paradoxical, continuity emerges.

Even so, the work also gives the impression that it is based on a more simple Mass setting, subsumed within the more complex orchestral and choral textures, and periodically rising to the surface to offer spiritual guidance amongst the chaos. The Kyrie opens with a simple three-note figure in the choir, each note held by the orchestra to create a simple dissonance: the two aspects of the work seem to start from a single source, and as the movement continues, the choir maintains the simplicity, while the orchestra increases the complexity and uncertainly beneath.

Blake’s “The Wild Flower’s Song” is set here for countertenor, the ever dependable Iestyn Davies. Here, for the first and last time, Raskatov indulges in pastoral tone painting, with the woodwinds singing birdcalls and fluttering in the breeze. The Gloria remains upbeat, the tone, if not the style, approaching Carmina Burana. Mark Padmore then sings Traktl’s “Lebensalter”, his German pronunciation a better match for the text than the rhythms of Raskatov’s setting.

“Clotilde” by Apollinaire is sung by soprano Elena Vassilieva. She is also the composer’s wife, and Raskatov regularly writes for her astonishing vocal abilities. She is a modern-music soprano in the Pierrot lunaire mould, and this movement displays her extraordinary vocal acrobatics in the upper register. Vassilieva must be well into her 60s, but it is difficult to imagine any other singer, whatever their age, matching this. The final song “Preghiera” of St. Francis is set for the four soloists, accompanied only by a collection of wind chimes, set in continuous motion by electric fans pointing upwards from beneath. It’s an eerie and magical effect, evoking nature, but in an abstract way ideal for the context.

In the final two Mass movements, the Benedictus and the Agnus Dei, the fog lifts and a more straightforward, consonant style emerges, especially in the choir, which was often supported by radiant chorales in the brass. What is Raskatov trying to tell us here? That the religious dimension of the work redeems all? It is difficult to see how this fits into the environmental theme. But then, the two ideas, the liturgical and the natural, are so closely interconnected throughout the work, that, in this optimistic ending, it feels like there are no losers.

The London Philharmonic gave an excellent performance. Despite the huge orchestra, filled with unusual instruments, balances were always finely judged.  Vocally, the performance was less secure. The four soloists made for a curious ensemble, Vassilieva’s coloratura sitting uneasily with the purer tone of Iestyn Davies, Mark Padmore and bass Nikolay Didenko. But this was in the spirit of the piece, just another stylistic juxtaposition for Raskatov to work with. The composer stymied a proposed second performance of the work, by an American orchestra, on the grounds that they could not provide a professional choir, so it was surprising to see the Choir of Clare College, Cambridge singing this evening. The young choristers handled the unusual techniques and textures well, although it sometimes seemed that the composer had a more bottom-heavy, Russian sound in mind. All of the vocalists were in the choir stalls, the soloists there presumably because the huge orchestra left no room for them at the front of the stage, and all were amplified. This seemed like a last minute solution to a balance problem, one that would have taken a larger stage and a large choir to resolve otherwise.

The concert opened with Beethoven’s Sixth Symphony, an obvious choice, but one that in retrospect only went to demonstrate the pastoral tone painting that Raskatov largely avoids. A pared-down London Philharmonic performed with a large tone, but with Jurowski maintaining disciplined tempos throughout. A mix-and-match approach to instrumentation saw the otherwise modern band accompanied by natural trumpets and period timpani in the storm, the former elegantly crisp, but the latter somewhat tubby. A competent performance of the Beethoven, but one that seemed to acknowledge that it was there mainly as a support act.

Jurowski Conducts Britten’s “Gay Requiem” in Moscow

I was in Russia this week and heard about a remarkable concert earlier in the year, which doesn’t seem to have registered with the Western press. At the start of April, the London Philharmonic gave a performance of Britten’s War Requiem in Moscow under Vladimir Jurowski, a very high profile civic event linked to the year of cultural collaboration between Britain and Russia, and attended by a good number of high level dignitaries.

It is customary in Russia to give an address before concerts, and on this occasion Jurowski himself introduced the work. One of the points he made, quite emphatically, is that the work is a celebration of love, and specifically of homosexual love. He talks about the fact that Britten and Pears’ relationship had been illegal under British law and about the evils of institutional homophobia.

Given the current political climate in Russia, this was an extraordinarily brave move. A friend of mine who was there says that the VIPs in the audience all sat ashen-faced as Jurowski elaborated his point. Clearly, Jurowski exaggerated the matter; under other circumstances he would probably be unlikely to characterise this as a gay requiem. But his motivations for doing so here are clear.

A review of the concert published soon after (read it here) discussed Jurowski’s opening remarks at length, which is very unusual as critics usually ignore these addresses. The critic, Sergei Medvedev writes:

“Vladimir Jurowski has once again demonstrated not only that he is a great conductor, but also that he refuses to conform. This sets him apart from other well-known Russian conductors and is so important now in our cold spring of 2014, in a country obsessed with searching out its enemies and in the grip of paranoid homophobia.”

I’ll happily second those views. The most distressing aspect of what is happening in Russia now is the fact that so few people are willing to make a public stand of defiance. But Jurowski has, and congratulations to him.

A video of Jurowski’s speech can be found at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5xYrg0m-QA4#t=13. The relevant section begins around 7:30. If anybody with a better grasp of Russian than me could translate this section, I’d be most grateful.

Prokofiev LPO Jurowski Osborne Festival Hall 18 Jan 12

Prokofiev: Steven Osborne (piano), London Philharmonic Orchestra, Vladimir Jurowski (conductor), Royal Festival Hall, London, 18.1.12 (Gdn)

Prokofiev: Symphonic Song Op.57

Prokofiev: Piano Concerto No.5

Prokofiev: Symphony No.6 in E flat minor

Some are of the opinion that the neglected works of famous composers remain so for good reason. Vladimir Jurowski has other ideas. The programme he has drawn up for this short Prokofiev festival is astonishing for the fact that almost every work in the eight or so concerts dedicated to the composer is real rarity. But his logic is impeccable. Prokofiev lived an interesting life in interesting times, and the works of his that are famous often owe their prestige to the events that inspired them. But that leaves some big gaps in the biography, gaps that these lesser-known works help to address.

If Prokofiev's later works tend to be neglected, the main reason must surely be their air of Soviet propaganda. But then, many earlier works are unfairly neglected too, and the overt Modernism of Prokofiev's 1920s Paris period can be just as off-putting as his more politically suspect later offerings. The programme this evening demonstrated just how complicated the situation in fact is. The two works in the first half, the Symphonic Song Op.57 and the Fifth Piano Concerto, are both transitional. Both were written in the early 30s, before Prokofiev had returned to the Soviet Union for good. But he was already preparing to do so and was writing music that would hopefully ingratiate him with the Russian people and the Soviet authorities alike.

Symphonic Song is musically flawed but is well worth hearing for the stylistic transition that the composer is attempting to affect. He is moving away from the fashionable Parisian Modernism that had occupied him for the previous decade and trying to align himself instead with the recent 'developments' further East. But the Modernism, particularly in the form of harsh, brass-led dissonance, refuses to go away. That may be why the structure of the work is so confused – it is never quite sure what sort of narrative and what level of resolution it is aiming for.

Jurowski presented the piece warts and all, and made no concessions to its problematic orchestration and form. That was a shame; with a little more patience and understanding from the podium it could have worked much better. The orchestral tuttis tend to be quite muddy, but there is obviously some interesting chord voicing going on here. Some small adjustments to the balance might have made Prokofiev's intentions clearer. Similarly, the transitions between disparate sections cried out for a more theatrical approach, for the new tempos and textures to be announced rather than just begun. But a better piece of music, even a better piece from Prokofiev, would have done all this without interpretive help, so blame should be laid squarely at the door of the composer.

The Fifth Piano Concerto is another curiosity. It works better, perhaps because of Prokofiev's ability always to write interesting music when it is for the piano. Steven Osborne is a game soloist, and a brave one to take on this rarity. He has real flair for Prokofiev's fireworks, for the glissandos and the fast staccato passages where every chord is huge but momentary. Osborne, like Jurowski, presents the music clearly and energetically, and never imposes excessive sentiment. Balance between the piano and orchestra was a slight problem, with Prokofiev often writing heavier orchestral accompaniments than the solo line can justify. But Jurowski had obviously put a lot of thought into addressing the problem. The string section was reduced, and woodwind soloists disappeared into the texture as soon as they were finished. A louder pianist would have helped, but would a louder pianist have given us the poised, insightful interpretation we got from Steven Osborne?

The excellent programme note (by Simon Morrison) mentions that Prokofiev often structured his music around the narrative 'darkness-conflict-achievement', raising the intriguing possibility that Jurowski had organised the concert's programme around a similar sequence. Certainly, of the three works, the symphony in the second half constituted the 'achievement'. For those, like me, who struggle to see any value in the music of Prokofiev's later years, the Sixth Symphony is a wakeup call. The composer's mastery, both of orchestration and of large-scale symphonic form, is evident throughout. And the orchestra were on top form, with the brass and percussion putting in particularly visceral performances. Jurowski articulated the shape and drama of the work with efficiency and passion. It might have been nice if he had done something to make the final chords sound less melodramatic, but as he had already demonstrated in the first half, he isn't in the business of making excuses for Prokofiev's music.

LPO, Jurowski, Vogt play Pintscher, Beethoven and Bruckner RFH 30 November 2011

Loud complaints from the audience are becoming a regular feature of London Philharmonic concerts. A few weeks ago, their performance of Bruckner's Fourth Symphony was disrupted by an unsatisfied patron leaving during the Adagio and complaining as he went. He seems to have set a dangerous precedent, for no sooner had Matthias Pintscher's opening piece finished when a loud voice from the back of the hall shouted "What a load of rubbish."

As it happens, he was completely wrong. Towards Osiris is an excellent work, showing one of today's finest compositional talents at the very height of his powers. The work was commissioned as part of a series of new pieces designed to accompany Holst's Planet Suite. Pintscher and Holst both excel in orchestral colour, and while their respective aesthetics are otherwise quite distinct, it is a fascinating exercise listening for echoes of Holst's great work in Pintscher's textures.

The work in structured around short punchy tuttis in an otherwise gentle orchestral texture. Pintscher creates some wonderfully complex sounds without having to rely on too much harmonic or textural density. He is great at gravelly or grating noises, usually led by the percussion, but never limited to them. At one point the texture reduces to an extrovert, bordering on comical, trumpet solo. There is a levity about it you don't usually associate with German composers. But the skilled construction, and the innovation in every phrase, is certainly in line with the best of what that country can produce.

In terms of pianists, Lars Vogt is the best Germany can produce. His performance of the Emperor was filled with quintessentially German values. This was an efficient and directly communicative reading. Vogt is able to generate some real power at the keyboard, enough both to fill the Festival Hall and to compete with the LPO, who played the concerto with a full string section. That's unusual, Beethoven usually gets quasi-chamber orchestra treatment with just three or four desks to a part. But Jurowski was obviously confident that Vogt could hold his own. Jurowski and Vogt were clearly on the same wavelength here, both intent on producing a big boned and passionate, but always clean and carefully articulated performance. The whole thing seemed very modern. So why then the period trumpets and timps? They seemed an inconvenience at best, and added little to this otherwise thoroughly symphonic reading.

The LPO has been spotlighting Bruckner throughout the season. Full credit to them for that. He is a composer who we hear too little of in the UK, partly I think because every review of the Bruckner symphony performance in the British press goes on about how the music is long and boring. But the LPO are developing an impressive track record in Bruckner, and have recently performed his symphonies with some of today's leading Brucknerians including Eschenbach, Vanska, and of course Jurowski himself.

The First Symphony is a tall order for any conductor, and any performance is going to work better in some places than in others. Jurowski knows how far he can push this music. In the first movement, he rarely tries to build the climaxes up to what he could manage in the later symphonies. On the other hand, the finale does offer a few opportunities to really push the boat out, and he never lets any of those pass him by. One aspect of Jurowski's Bruckner that really distinguishes his readings is his ability to make every movement ending work. Bruckner often ends a movement by building up to a climax and then just breaking off. Its usually sudden, requiring the conductor to decide how to pace those final bars to give them the right feeling of conclusion. Somehow, Jurowski manages it every time, and in this symphony the first, third and fourth movements all pose his this problem, but he manages to make each of those codas work.

Jurowksi finds the most interesting music in the central movements, and these are what really made elevated the performance. The Adagio was lyrical and elegant, thanks in no small part to the LPO's fine string section. Their precise ensemble and sophisticated tone allowed the music to sound far more mature than it actually is. And then in the Scherzo, Jurowski really went to town with the punchy rhythms and drama from every corner of the orchestra. Special mention should go to the trombone section, whose throaty tones and incisive accents brilliantly underpinned the tuttis here.

The First Symphony is never going to win a regular place in the repertoire, but as this evening's performance demonstrated, it is far more than just a curiosity. And given that its performances are so few and far between, we should be thankful that this one was to such a high standard.

Eötvös, Liszt, Zemlinsky: LPO, Jurowski

Eötvös, Liszt, Zemlinsky: Sue Thomas (flute), Nicholas Carpenter (clarinet), Alexander Markovich (piano), Melanie Diener (soprano), Thomas Hampson (baritone), London Philharmonic Orchestra, Vladimir Jurowski, Festival Hall, London 26.01.1

Peter Eötvös: Shadows (UK premiere of orchestral version)

Liszt: Piano Concerto No.2

Zemlinsky: Lyric Symphony

How strange to spend an evening at the Festival Hall and not hear a Mahler symphony. He was there in spirit though, as the guiding voice behind Zemlinsky's Lyric Symphony, a work so intensely influenced by Das Lied von der Erde that it has no problems standing in as Mahler's 11^th when the man has run out of repertoire.

Programming Zemlinsky as ersatz Mahler suggests an innovative approach to programming Mahler-themed concerts. In fact, the whole programme was very imaginative, and all the works on it, even the Liszt, are rarities. The danger is that coherency is achieved by highlighting the common failures of the works. There are no masterpieces here, which is just as well because any of these pieces would be instantly forgotten if they were programmed with a symphony by Beethoven, or even Mahler.

Vladimir Jurowski tends to get a hard time in the press whenever he programmes any new music, especially if it is from Eastern Europe. He obviously is not letting that phase him, and the concert opened with the UK première of the orchestral version of Peter Eötvös' Shadows. It is a concertante work for flute and clarinet. The stage is divided into symmetrical halves. Each half consists of a string section at the back, the soloist and a row of wind players in front with their backs to the audience. In the middle sit a snare drummer, a celesta and a timpanist. This central continuo group and the soloists have mics, and their sounds are projected through speakers so that they are linked variously to the two groups.

Got all that? The fact that this piece was written by a conductor who specialises in opera is clear from the reliance on spacial effects and musical dramaturgy. The piece is in a series of short movements, only some of which actually use the stage layout for antiphonal effects. It is a fascinating piece, but it never quite achieves anything substantial, which is partly because the individual movements are too short to really make the most of their constituent ideas. There is also a generic problem here; like Ligeti's concertante works, it sets up a dynamic where you expect virtuosity from the soloist supported by ensemble playing from the orchestra. There is little of any of that, but the various alternatives that are proposed are not really explored in depth either.

By following the Eötvös, Liszt's 2^nd Piano Concerto also seemed like a very experimental work. And indeed it is. It is another piece that strains against generic conventions. And like the Eötvös, it always seems to be striving for some innovative alternative, but never quite reaches the solution it is looking for. Alexander Markovich gave a surprisingly analytical performance, as if he wanted to present the score warts and all, without making any excuses for its various anomalies. That’s not to say that there was no emotion, in fact the precision of the reading only served to highlight both the drama and the lyricism. But in general the pedalling was restrained and rubato was only applied in moderation. There were a few slips here and there, usually in the fast runs, but on the whole this was a convincing and engaging reading. For an encore, Markovish treated us to slapstick variations on, if I'm not mistaken, the Skater's Waltz. Bizarre.

Treating Zemlinsky's Lyric Symphony as makeshift Mahler doesn't really do the score justice. There are many aspects of the work that Mahler would never think of. Both composers were also conductors, but it is interesting how much more leeway Zemlinsky gives the orchestral players. Perhaps the issue here is that unlike Mahler, Zemlinsky rarely conducted orchestras of the calibre of the Vienna or New York Philharmonics. But the way that Zemlinsky paces his unusual orchestral effects has an important bearing on their success in performance. The way that he layers the orchestral counterpoint in his tuttis is also unlike Mahler, not as sophisticated perhaps, but creating a different flavour of psychological angst.

The star of the symphony was Jurowski, who has this complex score down to a T. However, Thomas Hampson came a close second. One unfortunate legacy of Das Lied on the work is the tendency for the orchestra to drown out the soloists. Nobody really fought that in this performance, but it did mean that both soloists had often to sing at the very top of there dynamic ranges. And Hampson's velvety, luxurious tone is just as secure at that volume as it is in the mezzo forte. One or two of the songs are little low for him, but on the whole it was an excellent performance. Melanie Diener sang the solo part well, but was comprehensively outclassed by Hampson. She had all the notes though, and plenty of drama.

An evening of curiosities then, well performed, especially by the orchestra who, as usual, gave their best for Jurowski. A welcome break from Mahler too, although I see from the programme that the LPO's next meeting with him is only at the end of the week.

Gavin Dixon

(This concert was recorded by the BBC and will be broadcast on Radio 3 at 7pm on 1 February)