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Saturday 2 December 2017

Messiah:
Themes and variations

9 December 2017: Holy Trinity Church, Stratford-upon-Avon

On 9 September 1742, George Frideric Handel wrote a letter to his close friend (and greatest fan), Charles Jennens, enclosing a glowing review – by “no less than the Bishop of Elphim (A Nobleman very learned in musick)” – of the extremely successful first performance of an oratorio in Dublin. This premiere had actually taken place five months earlier, on 13 April 1742: so it seems that Handel was perhaps a little tardy in informing Jennens just “how well Your Messiah was received”.

Yes… – “Your” Messiah. For it was Jennens who not only compiled the text; but also convinced Handel of the merits of such a work in the first place. It seems, as well, that the composer trusted his collaborator’s knowledge of music, and musical forms, well enough to have asked him for feedback on the final article: as later, he would write to Jennens, asking him to “point out these passages in the Messiah which you think require altering”.

Unfortunately, Jennens doesn’t appear to have considered Messiah one of Handel’s greatest hits (an opinion also held by the first London audiences for the work) – as he wrote to his friend Edward Holdsworth that…

I shall show you a collection I gave Handel, called Messiah, which I value highly. He has made a fine entertainment of it, though not near so good as he might and ought to have done. I have with great difficulty made him correct some of the grossest faults in the composition; but he retained his overture obstinately, in which there are some passages far unworthy of Handel, but much more unworthy of the Messiah.

There is no mention in either of my (extremely well-used) scores of Messiah of the librettist’s name; and it would be easy to dismiss – as many have done – its lyrical content as just a collection of random verses from the Bible loosely stitched together. Additionally – especially for those of us who need more than our hands and feet to count the number of performances we have either attended or taken part in – the words have become so utterly familiar, anyway, that we perhaps take little (if any) notice of their meaning – either as individual movements, or overall.

I would argue, though, that Jennens’ knowledge of scripture; his grasp of dramatic literature (he was the first person to produce scholarly editions of individual Shakespeare plays), and of dramatic music; all come together to produce a cohesive, intelligent, and, in many ways, a quite startling narrative. We have to remember that nothing like this had been produced before (excepting Jennens’ own text for Handel’s Saul, in 1739); and that the first edition of Alexander Cruden’s Complete Concordance To the Old and New Testaments had only just been published (in 1736). But, even then, it has to be acknowledged that Jennens must have known the 1611 King James Version of the Bible – and the versions of the psalms as printed in The Book of Common Prayer of 1662 – inside-out. Indeed, musicologist Watkins Shaw – in The story of Handel's ‘Messiah’ – asserts that the libretto “amounts to little short of a work of genius”. As a writer, I have to agree!

The storyline that Jennens weaves can be seen in more than one light, too – hence its effectiveness. As religious propaganda, it reflects his own feelings concerning religion and society. In structure, it follows the liturgical year: Part I corresponding with Advent and Christmas; Part II with Lent, Easter, the Ascension, and Pentecost; and Part III with the year’s end (as well as ‘The End of Days’). Of course, its main thrust is the rehearsal of the life of Jesus: from Isaiah’s prophecies of a longed-for saviour – of his birth and death – to their fulfilment (in effect, from the First Coming to the Second). However, despite its title, this “life” is only ever really implied – apart from the appearance of the angels to the shepherds (in movements 13 to 17), events are written well and truly between the work’s lines.

As you listen to Handel’s glorious music, tonight, please, therefore, pay attention to those wonderful words, as well as – perhaps more than you would normally – to their meaning, their significance and power. And remember that, to all intents and purposes, without Jennens, there would be no music to hear. Without Charles Jennens, there would be no Messiah.


Tuesday 28 November 2017

New York comes to Stratford:
Themes and variations

5 December 2017: Stratford ArtsHouse

  • Aaron Copland – Music for Movies
  • Pedro H da Silva – Portuguese Guitar Concerto [world premiere]
  • Lucía Caruso – ‘Clouds’, for piano and orchestra
  • Aaron Copland – Music for the Theatre

Both George Gershwin and Aaron Copland were born in Brooklyn, New York: Gershwin in September 1898; Copland in November 1900. Having both played the piano from an early age, both went on to study composition with Rubin Goldmark – who had once been a pupil of Antonín Dvořák. However, whilst Gershwin remained in America (producing, among other things, a string of successful musicals), in 1920 Copland moved to France, to study with Nadia Boulanger. While there, he was introduced to many European composers – including Igor Stravinsky – and began to realize that, whereas he could easily identify music as, say, ‘French’, or ‘Russian’, there was no immediately recognizable ‘American’ style.

He therefore set out to deliberately create such a language (and “purge” his music of its European influences). Thus, when he returned to the US in 1924 (the year of Rhapsody in Blue), he looked to jazz as a key ingredient. It certainly permeates (if not dominates) this concert’s Music for the Theatre (strangely, Copland preferred the British spelling) – and is the first piece to sound so obviously ‘by Copland’ (as we now know him). “I was anxious to write a work that would immediately be recognized as American in character,” he later recollected. While no particular dramatic device was involved, Copland said that he chose the title because “the music seemed to suggest a certain theatrical atmosphere”. Labelled a “suite in five parts for small orchestra” (not to mention an expansive percussion section!), it received its first performance by the Boston Symphony Orchestra on 20 November 1925.

But there is a great deal more to Copland’s music than ‘all that jazz’. Indeed, that genre’s influence dissipated soon afterwards; and other constituents – especially those derived from American ‘folk’ and ‘popular’ music – started to come to the fore. These can clearly be heard in later masterpieces such as Rodeo, Billy the Kid, and Appalachian Spring – music which is readily identifiable as both Copland’s, and, therefore, as ‘American’.

Although Stateside ‘classical’ music has also moved on – think of John Adams or Milton Babbitt – it could be suggested that Copland was, perhaps, too successful in propagating his national idiom. Nearly a century later, and so many film scores still owe him their existence. Thankfully, his own Music for Movies – which opens this concert – stands head and shoulders above those who try to mimic his matchless style.


Tuesday 14 November 2017

Tamsin Waley-Cohen plays Mozart:
Themes and variations

21 November 2017: Stratford ArtsHouse
22 November 2017: Town Hall, Birmingham

  • Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Symphony no15 in G major, K124
  • Edvard Grieg – Holberg Suite, op40
  • Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Violin Concerto no4 in D major, K218
  • Joseph Haydn – Symphony no22 ‘The Philosopher’ in E-flat major, Hob.I:22

In different ways, all three of today’s composers (and all four of today’s works) can be seen as reflecting on their compositional inheritance – or even looking back at it deliberately, with unfeigned affection – especially in the use of earlier dance-forms. In doing so, they each not only shine a new light on such musical history and tradition, but also breathe fresh energy into its utilization.

Fifteen, when he wrote his Fifteenth Symphony, and only eighteen or nineteen when he wrote his five violin concertos, Mozart’s style, here, is not yet fully mature, of course: and he is therefore still audibly influenced by that of his predecessors and elders – including his father, Leopold; as well as JC Bach and Michael Haydn. Nevertheless, the obvious musical growth demonstrated by this concert’s two compositions is quite astounding. And it is in the later work’s final movement – the Violin Concerto’s explicitly French-style Rondeau (Italian: rondó; ‘round’) – that Mozart’s retrospection takes its most concrete form. (As with its predecessor, K216, though, this movement stops and starts, and veers off in all sorts of ‘modern’ and ‘humorous’ directions!)

Additionally, until supplanted by the Beethovenian scherzo (Italian for ‘jest’ or ‘joke’), the minuet (Italian: minuetto; German: Menuett; French: menuet) was a recognizable, characteristic part of most classical symphonies: and thus features in both of today’s, along with its typical, central trio (so-called because, initially, this was in three-part harmony: as with the minor-key sections of sixteenth-century masses). Originally a rustic French dance, the menuetto (a neologism frequently used by both Mozart and Beethoven) is always in triple time – its epithet deriving from its distinctive dainty step: that is, from the French menu, for ‘small’.

As well as including such a Menuet e Trio, the overall structure of Haydn’s symphony also references the past: its slow-fast-slow-fast sequence of movements being more typical of the Baroque-era (roughly 1600 to 1750) sonata da chiesa (‘church sonata’). Its instrumentation, though, is both unique and groundbreaking.

However, it is in Grieg’s Holberg Suite that we find bygone styles evoked most knowingly – the deliberate call to earlier forms and styles (as with Warlock’s Capriol Suite and Prokofiev’s Classical Symphony) coloured with, and seen from, a more distant remove; as well as treated with a more modern discernment. Proof indeed that looking back is no hindrance to looking – and moving – forward.


Wednesday 18 October 2017

Julian Bliss plays Weber:
Themes and variations

25 October 2017: Town Hall, Birmingham

  • Gioachino Rossini – Overture, ‘The Barber of Seville’
  • Carl Maria von Weber – Clarinet Concerto no2 in E-flat major, op74 (J114)
  • Ludwig van Beethoven – Symphony no8 in F major, op93

All of this afternoon’s works were composed within three years of each other – Weber’s concerto first, in 1811; Rossini’s overture last, in 1813 (albeit originally for his earlier opera, Aureliano in Palmira) – and yet, stylistically, apart from their Classical structures, they have little in common. What they do share are a contagious joie de vivre and characteristic confidence: all three composers at the top of their game – which, considering Rossini was only twenty-one, and Weber twenty-four, demonstrates just how rapidly their brilliance ripened. All three composers knew of each other, too: Rossini and Weber both meeting Beethoven in Vienna, in 1822 and 1823, respectively (around the time he was completing his Missa Solemnis and the Choral Symphony).

Both of the younger composers were much saddened at seeing their idol so isolated by his deafness; but it seems Beethoven’s wicked sense of humour (so apparent in today’s symphony) was still to the fore. He said to Rossini – a backhanded compliment, if ever there was one – that The Barber of Seville was “an excellent opera buffa”; but that Rossini should “never try to do anything other than comic operas – to want to succeed in another style would force your nature”! (This was despite the success of ‘serious’ operas such as Tancredi, Otello, and Mosè in Egitto.) His final words, repeated as he saw Rossini out of his “dirty and frightfully disorderly attic”, being: “Above all, you must make more Barbers.”

Weber was perhaps more fortunate – “You’re a devil of a fellow!” – even though he had been publicly critical of some of Beethoven’s earlier compositions, including the Fourth Symphony. Beethoven had been deeply impressed by Der Freischütz, and was so astonished at its originality that – according to Weber’s son, Max – he struck the score with his hand, and exclaimed “I never would have thought it of the gentle little man”. When they parted, Beethoven – having “served [him] at table as if I had been his lady” – embraced and kissed him several times and cried: “Good luck to the new opera [Euryanthe]; if I can, I’ll come to the first performance!”

Although this afternoon’s music is still essentially Classical in nature – Beethoven resolutely recalling its glory years – all three are now seen as the founding fathers, or architects, of Romanticism (despite Rossini describing himself as “the last of the Classicists”). What a joy it is to have them all in the same room!


Tuesday 13 June 2017

Viola and double-bass take centre stage!
Themes and variations

20 June 2017: Stratford ArtsHouse

  • Carl Ditters von Dittersdorf – Sinfonia Concertante for Double-Bass and Viola in D major, Kr.127
  • Julian Philips – Ballades Concertantes [world premiere]
  • Joseph Haydn – Symphony no49 ‘La Passione’ in F minor, Hob.I:49

Most – if not all – concertos are composed with specific performers in mind. Sometimes, they are written to showcase the composer’s own skills (think Mozart, Liszt, Rachmaninoff, etc.). Many times, they are written for a restricted number of instruments – particularly, it seems, violin and piano.

At the time of writing, IMSLP – the International Music Score Library Project: “Sharing the world’s public domain music” – holds 119,774 works, by 15,188 composers. Of these, 4,136 are labelled as concertos: 1,081 including ‘violin’ in their title (26.1%); and 471 containing the word ‘piano’ (11.4%). There are nearly as many concertos written for oboe (238) as there are cello (257); but only 117 for my favourite instrument, the bassoon… – and only one (yes, one!) for the glorious cor anglais (a very recent work, by Simon Laumer). Even the tuba has more written for it: with seven!

Tonight’s soloists – Virginia and Stacey – have, respectively 99 (viola) and 27 (double-bass) to choose from. But it is only when you type in ‘Dittersdorf’ or ‘Symphony Concertante’ that tonight’s first ‘double concerto’ is revealed – which, I’m afraid, only goes to show that all the above numbers should be treated (like opinion polls) as reasonably indicative (especially as contemporary composers seem to be much more inventive in their solo works: there already being two concertos listed for ‘electric bass’).

The point I’m trying to make is that such instruments are very rarely brought forward from their places in the orchestra… – and yet, when they are, we realize just how unfair this is: both the viola and double-bass being capable (as you will hear) of sonorous lyricism and striking virtuosity so different from their smaller cousins, the violin and cello. I accept that there are fewer players (certainly fewer solo players) of these instruments; and that surrounding such lower voices with orchestral timbres that do not overpower them may present more complex challenges… – although Tchaikovsky, Dvořák and Elgar met these head-on in creating glorious works for cello, of course!

We should therefore be immensely grateful to Carl Ditters von Dittersdorf and to Julian Philips, for creating pieces that, although around 250 years apart, demonstrate what we have been missing. In their extremely different ways, not only do they give us the full range of these wonderful instruments’ capabilities, whilst producing music that captivates; but they demonstrate – as the Dalai Lama said – that “if you listen, you may learn something new”.


Tuesday 6 June 2017

An old friend of OOTS…

Whilst writing the programme notes for the last concert to contain a commission written for OOTS’ 21st Anniversary seasonViola and Double-Bass Take Centre Stage! – I had a brief email conversation with composer Julian Philips: who has produced an immensely beautiful work, Ballades Concertantes, for solo viola, double-bass and chamber orchestra, as a companion piece to Carl Ditters von Dittersdorf’s Sinfonia Concertante for Double-Bass and Viola.

The words which follow are all Julian’s; the musical excerpts are the first lines of each of the four Machaut Ballades that inspired him.

Ballades Concertantes developed out of an engagement with two different historical traditions – the late-fourteenth-century Ballade of Guillaume de Machaut, and the later eighteenth-century sinfonia concertante, as developed by Haydn, Mozart or Dittersdorf. Machaut, because my recent opera The Tale of Januarie – based on Chaucer’s The Merchant’s Tale – had engaged with late medieval music; and the music of Machaut – who was the great figure of his day, and very much known to Chaucer – was still in the air. The sinfonia concertante, because David and the orchestra were keen to celebrate their twenty-first anniversary by reviving a form which gives solo spots to individual orchestral players. In this case, the viola and double-bass.

Tuesday 9 May 2017

Jennifer Pike plays Mozart:
Themes and variations

16 May 2017: Forum Theatre, Malvern Theatres

  • Michael Haydn – Symphony no25 ‘Mozart’s 37th’ in G major, MH334
  • Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Violin Concerto no3 ‘Strassburg’ in G major, K216
  • Franz Schubert – Symphony no5 in B-flat major, D485

Three months before he composed the symphony which closes this concert, nineteen-year-old Franz Peter Schubert wrote in his diary: “O Mozart! immortal Mozart! what countless impressions of a brighter, better life hast thou stamped up our souls!” – and it comes as no surprise, therefore, that the ensuing work owes a major debt to his idol (particularly his 40th Symphony).

In some ways, all three of today’s works are Mozartian – either by attachment (or attribution), authorship, or afflation (or such divine inspiration as Schubert would perhaps claim). In fact, until 1907, Michael Haydn’s vibrant 25th, which opens proceedings, was believed to be Mozart’s 37th (K444) – although it is difficult to accept, upon hearing it, that anyone could have really considered it the sequel to the miraculous Linz Symphony (K425): written – in four days – in late 1783. Despite it being composed in the same year, it is more representative of a previous era: when young Wolfgang was still striving to find his own voice. Having said that, today’s violin concerto was composed eight years earlier – when Mozart, like Schubert, was only nineteen – and yet his distinct, rapidly-burgeoning genius really shines through.

There is little doubt that Mozart thought a great deal of the older composer; and they were indeed good friends – influence therefore flowing in both directions. So, when Mozart was commissioned to write his great Requiem, it is likely that he used Michael Haydn’s C minor mass (MH155) as a model. (Coincidentally, Haydn wrote forty-one symphonies – his last being composed one year after Mozart’s stupendous Jupiter Symphony.)

Sadly, we hear very little of the younger Haydn’s music nowadays. It is his big brother, Franz Joseph, we look to as Mozart’s mentor; and Mozart’s influence we hear propelling later composers. It is well-known that Tchaikovsky idolized him – his Rococo Variations the most direct tribute – and Ravel stated that he was similarly inspired when composing the Adagio assai of his G major piano concerto.

No-one else, though, has ever quite recaptured that melodic ease, or fleetness of composition (although Schubert comes exceeding close). As Ravel said of his Mozartian theme: “That flowing phrase! How I worked over it bar by bar! It nearly killed me!” However, Brahms expresses it best, in a letter to Clara Schumann: “But how happy is the man who, like Mozart…, arrives at a pub in the evening and writes new music. Creating is simply his life, but he does what he wants. What a man.”


Thursday 6 April 2017

Emma Johnson plays Mozart:
Themes and variations

13 April 2017: Forum Theatre, Malvern Theatres

  • Joseph Haydn – Concerto for Two Flutes in C Major, Hob.VIIh:1
  • Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Clarinet Concerto in A major, K622
  • Christoph Willibald Gluck – Dance of the Blessed Spirits
  • Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Symphony no40 in G minor, K550

Tonight’s concert should probably be dedicated to Calliope, the Muse of epic poetry: who not only inspired Homer’s Odyssey and Virgil’s Aeneid – but whose name means ‘beautiful voiced’.

Moreover, there is a keyboard instrument called a calliope: which features a set of pipes usually powered by steam; and which is not that far removed from the lira organizzata – a fascinating Italian gizmo that is half hurdy-gurdy, half chamber organ. This ‘organ-ized lyre’ was the favourite instrument of King Ferdinand IV of Naples: who was one of the original soloists (along with his teacher) in tonight’s Concerto for Two Flutes – originally, the first of Haydn’s Concertos for Two Lire Organizzate – pieces which work equally well when played not only on flutes, but also oboes and recorders.

Furthermore, the “beautiful voices” of solo woodwind are at the heart of three of this concert’s works – an extremely unusual occurrence indeed: seeing that, as Emma Johnson recently pointed out, when I interviewed her, “The solo repertoire for violin and for piano is far larger than that of any of the woodwind instruments.”

And, finally, it is Calliope’s son Orpheus (or Orfeo) – who the goddess “taught verses for singing” – and his attempt to rescue his wife Eurydice (Euridice) from the Underworld – that inspired the opera from which our third work is taken: Gluck’s ravishing Dance of the Blessed Spirits (which, in placing Elysium, the world of the blessed, within the Underworld, also follows strongly in the Homeric tradition).

Overall, though, it is melody which unites these four late 18th Century works: built, as they are, around some of the most beautiful and memorable tunes ever written. My personal favourite is that which gently opens the Adagio of Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto: which Emma described as “one of those examples of pure beauty in art” – one which I find incredibly moving. She confirmed that even for her, as soloist, “it is an emotional experience to play… and if the performer doesn’t feel that, then neither will the audience…. Like an actor,” she added, “you have to learn to manipulate your emotions so they express the work of art you are performing.”

I will leave the last word to Irving Berlin, though: who – with Mozart’s fireworks still ringing in your ears, as you head safely homewards… – probably expresses that enduring property of the greatest tunes better than anyone else: “The song is ended But the melody lingers on.”


Tuesday 4 April 2017

Laura van der Heijden plays Tchaikovsky:
Themes and variations

11 April 2017: Stratford ArtsHouse
12 April 2017: Town Hall, Birmingham

  • Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Eine kleine Nachtmusik, K525
  • Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (edited by W Fitzenhagen) – Variations on a Rococo Theme, op33
  • Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Symphony no40 in G minor, K550

Why are variations on a theme such a popular art-form – for composers, at least? Elgar famously used them, in his Enigma Variations, to paint portraits of his closest friends. Bach wrote the incomparable Goldberg Variations to assuage insomnia. And some – including Czerny, Brahms and Britten – composed a collection to pay tribute to those that have inspired or tutored them (respectively: Beethoven, Schumann and Bridge – but not exclusively).

The variation is one of the oldest musical forms: even being found within the keyboard works of William Byrd (c1540-1623). Its development is also intimately linked with that of the concerto: from the earliest concerti grossi, through Handel and JC Bach, to Franck’s Variations symphoniques for piano and orchestra – and, of course, this concert’s Rococo Variations.

Its possibilities are inexhaustible. If you require proof: one of the most popular themes used for ‘alteration’ is that of Paganini’s Caprice no24 in A minor for violin. Not only does this prototype itself include eleven variations; but many, many musicians – including Brahms, Lutosławski, and, most notably, Rachmaninoff – have created wonderfully transformative sequences of their own.

Julian Lloyd Webber, our conductor today, has also recorded an album, simply entitled Variations, based on this theme: written for him by his brother, Andrew. I therefore wondered if he might have an answer. Why…?

Because, for a composer, it’s a big challenge: to be able to write a set of variations on one particular theme; and come up with very different ideas. Some of the ideas are so good… – you hear these Paganini variations: the way different composers approach them – it’s fascinating. For instance, Rachmaninoff turning the tune around and making an absolutely beautiful melody – that’s very, very clever! I do think Andrew was quite brave to choose that tune: because so many other famous pieces had come out of it. But he’s never shirked a challenge!

And so I think it works both ways: for the composer to demonstrate his technique, and what he can actually do with imagination and a simple theme; and also for the audience, who get to follow the changes through a theme that they hear many times during a piece of music.

Tchaikovsky, of course, opted to write his own theme. He may claim it as ‘Rococo’; but, in reality, it has more to do with his role model – the man he called his “musical Christ” – Mozart: whose inspirational works also begin and end today’s proceedings.


Wednesday 22 March 2017

Weaver of moonbeams…

Ahead of his two concerts – in Stratford-upon-Avon and Birmingham, conducting Orchestra of the Swan with this year’s Associate Artist, cellist Laura van der Heijden – I went to meet Julian Lloyd Webber: now Principal of Birmingham Conservatoire, and steering it through some exciting times as it prepares to move into its purpose-designed new home.

Entering his office in the old building – sadly nearing the end of its productive life, in the centre of the city – one cannot fail to be reminded, though, of his previous career as one of his (and my) generation’s greatest, and most successful, solo cellists: with posters of some of his most memorable achievements scattered throughout the room. Indeed, above his desk – in pride of place, perhaps – he points out a large framed copy of the cover of the CD I am nervously clutching between my fingers: a recording which confirmed his status of hero for me, and for many others. But more of that later: because, as he welcomes me in, and shakes my hand, there could not be a more genial and gracious interviewee. (As I am rapidly learning – as my first year of being OOTS’ Writer-in-Residence comes to a close – the majority of classical musicians are incredibly generous people: open, willing to chat, to treat you as an equal, to spend time with you… – they just happen to be incredibly talented, too – although no mention of this will ever pass their lips.)

Monday 20 March 2017

The greatest and most satisfying manifestations of human expression…

On Thursday, 13 April 2017, “internationally acclaimed clarinettist, recitalist, chamber musician, recording artist and lecturer” Emma Johnson will be joining OOTS for an evening of sublime 18th century music in the Forum Theatre, Malvern. Although in the middle of a busy concert schedule, Emma was kind enough to carry out the following interview, via email.

There don’t appear to be many famous classical clarinettists in the world (indeed, at any one point in time). Is this because of the lack of mainstream repertoire – especially, say, compared to that for the piano or violin?
The solo repertoire for violin and for piano is far larger than that of any of the woodwind instruments, and that is why the clarinet is usually considered an orchestral instrument. When you are nine years old and picking an instrument to play, you don’t know these things. But once it became clear I wanted to be a musician, it was naturally assumed I would try to play in an orchestra.
     However, I gradually discovered that the solo clarinet repertoire is richer than people realize: spanning from Mozart, Weber, Brahms and Schumann, to Finzi, Poulenc, Copland and many modernists; as well as playing a pivotal role in jazz. There is, in fact, ample material for a clarinet soloist; and I have expanded the repertoire, too: by making arrangements and transcriptions, and commissioning new pieces.
     In addition, winning BBC Young Musician at the age of 17 allowed me to think differently, and to develop my clarinet playing so that it had the variety and range of a solo recitalist. Because of the opportunities the competition opened up to play solo, it enabled me to realize a vision I had of how a solo clarinettist could be.

Tuesday 7 March 2017

Orchestra of the Swan’s 21st Anniversary Concert – The English Genius:
Themes and variations

14 March 2017: Stratford ArtsHouse

  • Gustav Holst – St Paul’s Suite
  • Ralph Vaughan Williams – Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis
  • Ralph Vaughan Williams – Symphony no5 in D major

With the first classical symphonies (as we might recognize them today) emerging from around Lombardy in the 1730s, it seems awfully bad form that the earliest English masterpiece of the genre didn’t arrive until 1908: with Elgar’s magnificent opus 55. To make up for its tardiness, though, that work was performed one hundred times in just over a year – in cities as far apart as Manchester and Saint Petersburg.

And, of course, it wasn’t long before other composers took up the baton. So – even though many pundits repeatedly (and fatuously) declared the form dead (globally) during the 20th Century – suddenly, like buses, whole hosts of English symphonic works arrived together! Names that spring to mind as Elgar’s natural heirs include those born ‘just up the road’ in Northampton – William Alwyn, Malcolm Arnold, and Edmund Rubbra: who wrote twenty-five between them. Down the road was Humphrey Searle – born in Oxford – with five. And then, looking south, towards the village (and glorious hymn-tune) of Down Ampney, in Gloucestershire, there emerged probably the country’s greatest symphonic composer to date: Ralph Vaughan Williams, with his traditional sequence of nine.

It never ceases to amaze me just how distinctive in disposition these creations are – and yet all are instantly identifiable as the man’s own. But the Fifth – which closes this 21st Anniversary Concert – is the one which many claim to be his greatest (and I could not disagree).

Ostensibly romantic and beautiful, it should offer respite from the explicit violence of its predecessor; and yet it overflows with ambiguity: inciting doubt, rather than imparting belief. It could, in its own keep-calm-and-carry-on fashion, be seen as a stereotypically English response to the global destruction enveloping its arrival; and yet its heartfelt desolation lies barely beneath its composer’s not-quite-so-stiff upper lip – so does not take much unearthing. It is thus, I contend, the most ‘mortal’ of his symphonies. Indeed, as their creator once stated: “The principles which govern the composition of music… are not the tricks of the trade or even the mysteries of the craft, they are founded on the very nature of human beings.”

110 years after its prodigious birth, the English symphony endures. A wonderful recent example is Peter Maxwell Davies’ Symphony No.10. And we also have the English Symphony Orchestra’s extensive 21st Century Symphony Project – led by OOTS’ former guest conductor Kenneth Woods – launching in a fortnight. Long may it prevail!


Thursday 16 February 2017

Guy Johnston plays Haydn:
Themes and variations

23 February 2017: Forum Theatre, Malvern Theatres

  • Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Sinfonia Concertante for Four Winds in E-flat major, K297b
  • Joseph Haydn – Concerto No.2 in D Major for cello and orchestra, Hob.VIIB:2
  • Joseph Haydn – Symphony no59 ‘Feuer’ in A major, Hob.I:59

My dictionary tells me that the simple word ‘fire’ embraces many more meanings than I had rashly assumed: from “the heat and light of burning” through “ardour” and “passion” to “spirited vigour or animation” – and I think those properties can be found in all three of tonight’s works: warming the chill February air equally; but in diverse ways. The compositions are also linked by their instrumentation: the addition of oboes and horns to OOTS’ core strings reinforcing their quintessential translucent, intimate chamber feel – yet producing extended and contrasting variations in both texture and effect.

All written within a period of fifteen years, it would be easy to lump the three pieces in with the contemporary Sturm und Drang movement, as well. However, Mozart’s Sinfonia Concertante, which begins the concert, is lit mainly by the qualities of ardour and passion – especially in its first two movements. Its finale, though, is full of quasi-Haydnesque wit; as well as a great deal of spirited vigour and animation.

The concerto builds on this fervour. Although technically challenging – the fiery, almost explosive, finger-work is as visual a delight as it is an aural one… – Haydn’s writing exploits the timbre of the cello to the full (as well as its range and volume): making it sing. I thus believe it to be one of the greatest works ever composed for the instrument. That it demonstrated (and extended) its expansive capabilities so early on in its history, is, to me, a manifestation of the great composer’s continual willingness to acquire skill and knowledge, to experiment, to stretch… – indeed, a manifestation of his genius.

It differs from his 59th Symphony in many ways – time and experience encouraging complexity, perhaps… – and yet this earlier work still demonstrates Haydn’s lifelong propensity to push at boundaries; as well as his ability to quickly move not only from the ‘stormy’ to the ‘driven’, but the sublime to the, er, humorous (and back again)! In some ways – especially with its opening Presto – it does encapsulate the artistic trend which pivoted around it. And yet, in its finale, the composer – in stamping his mark on the work – almost produces its antithesis: realizing one last definition of its slightly circuitous sobriquet – “refraction of light in a gemstone”. It truly sparkles!


Sunday 12 February 2017

Commissions accomplished…!

As part of OOTS’ 21st Anniversary season, four composers, who have all worked with the orchestra before, were invited to write “companion pieces” to classical ‘concertante’ works – which they would then be premièred alongside – an idea conjured up by orchestra trustee Tim Richards. As David points out, “this gives our principals the opportunity to shine, as well as thanking them for their commitment”; adding that pairing music in this way “gives the orchestra, soloists, audience and composer both context and inspiration”.

Last year’s commissions – Douglas J Cuomo’s Objects in Mirror and Paul Moravec’s Nocturne – were both instant hits. (In fact, I described the Cuomo as “a cracking work: the perfect foil to the Bach that inspired it”; and reported that Moravec’s “left me with a mammoth lump in my throat, and several large somethings in both eyes”.) I am therefore certain that this year’s will follow in their winning footsteps.

Julian Philips’ composition (to be premièred in June) is for viola and double-bass. David commented that “Julian is an old friend of OOTS, and I expect something slightly more ‘traditional’. Because he knows us so well, I’m sure he will want to capitalize on our distinctive string sound.”

Asked about Joanna Lee – whose Blue Blaze – Dance Suite will be performed this month – David explained that “Joanna is relatively young: and OOTS believes in championing emerging talent.” He went on to say: “I have always been struck by her inventiveness and highly individual voice: so her work is likely to be quite challenging for audience and players – fully exploiting the characteristics of the solo instruments – but also very witty and light-hearted!”

Tuesday 7 February 2017

Mozart, meet Joanna Lee!
Themes and variations

14 February 2017: Stratford ArtsHouse
22 February 2017: Town Hall, Birmingham

  • Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Overture, ‘Bastien und Bastienne’, K50/46b
  • Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Sinfonia Concertante for Four Winds in E-flat major, K297b
  • Joanna Lee – Blue Blaze – Dance Suite [world premiere]
  • Joseph Haydn – Symphony no59 ‘Feuer’ in A major, Hob.I:59

I wonder how many potential tunes there are in the world – already written; or, as Elgar supposed, “in the air… all around us”? Given a set number of notes, there are obviously only, statistically, a finite number of sequences that can be developed. So, isn’t it truly amazing that, when performed – even if ‘recycled’ by other composers: either coincidentally, or in tribute – such melodies are not only recognizable (they strike a chord, if you will), but they also have the power to immediately lead you back to a single source?

For example: catching the opening theme of this concert, played out of context, many people in the audience would, I am sure, instantly call to mind Beethoven’s Eroica – although then wonder who had run off with those two monumental introductory thunderbolts (and why it was played in the wrong key and by the wrong instruments). Or maybe Wagner’s Das Rheingold…? (Although, there, as you might expect, its appearance is more lushly orchestrated.) This ‘fanfare’ – based on a major triad: thus readily playable on a natural (valveless) horn – also appears at the beginning of Brahms’ Second Symphony; and, according to George Grove (he of the musical dictionary), in his violin concerto, too – not to mention the Scherzo of Schubert’s ‘Great’ C major symphony; as well as Beethoven’s very own Hammerklavier sonata.

But hear it: and I’m pretty sure that it will be the latter’s Third Symphony that comes to mind; even though he was born two years after the overture – to singspiel, or comic opera, Bastien und Bastienne – was composed… by twelve-year-old Mozart: which is why all thoughts of Beethoven will quickly fade away. Even at this age, ‘Amadeus’ was displaying signature greatness.

By the way, the opera probably wasn’t performed publicly for another twenty-two years. But it is unlikely that Beethoven was present; or, if he was, that he would intentionally borrow something so pleasantly pastoral to signify ‘the heroic’.

Conceivably, the most amazing upshot, I think, is that this short tune serves both – indeed all – of its purposes extremely well. Because in none of the instances listed does it sound anything other than each composer’s own: perfectly pitched, perfectly scored. Maybe because, to paraphrase two other truly great musicians: “T’ain’t What You Write (It’s the Way That You Write It)”.