Saturday 24 October 2026
Bridgewater Hall, Manchester
Superb soloists in Mahler and Mendelssohn, and an evocative orchestral piece by Composer in Residence Cassandra Miller
★★★★★
“Prithee, nuncle, be contented.
’Tis a naughty night to swim in.”
The Fool to King Lear on the stormy heath, King Lear – Act 3, scene iv
David Threlfall is currently playing the title role in King Lear at the Royal Exchange Theatre here in Manchester. As I walked to the Bridgewater Hall on Saturday evening, I was caught in a biblical (or Shakespearean?) rain shower. Words from Shakespeare’s play came to mind: ’Tis a naughty night to swim in.’
Fittingly, Saturday evening’s concert by the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra, under Chief Conductor John Storgårds, began with Swim. Written by Cassandra Miller, the orchestra’s Composer in Residence, the piece’s context is very different from downpours so heavy you could swim in them.
The work is dedicated to her mother, ‘the lake swimmer.’ It has a double inspiration: Miller took brass chords from the fourth movement of Robert Schumann’s Symphony No. 3, The Rhenish, and was also inspired by words from the Canadian poet Anne Carson,
“At dawn a small mist cool as pearls hangs above the lake… How slow is the slow trance of wisdom, which the swimmer swims into.”
From Winter Margins: An Essay on Swimming by My Brother
As Miller points out in her programme note, Schumann ‘almost fatally’ bathed in the Rhine (when he attempted suicide by jumping in), but she imagines the composer swimming in Carson’s cool lake. Miller’s mesmerising piece draws us into a dream-like state: that of the cold-water swimmer who experiences the ‘slow trance of wisdom.’ On Saturday, the BBC Philharmonic played it beautifully, as conductor John Storgårds drew out its subtleties with small gestures. He immediately took us into a world of stillness, slow breathing and floating, without a rhythmic pulse.
“Miller’s mesmerising piece draws us into a dream-like state”
Repeated musical motifs represented the alternating movement of the swimmer’s left and right hands. Harmonies changed gently, morphing from one to another, quietly discordant. A hushed, falling horn fanfare echoed by a muted trumpet evoked the swimmer’s loneliness and isolation. A melancholy two-note falling theme on woodwind was answered by the brass. The piece ended with single notes from a chamber group and a pulsing woodwind drone, like a sine wave, drifting into infinite silence… and then, a sudden shock (reader, it made me jump!) as the brass played a chorale, joined by the woodwind and a final solo flute.
To complete the first half, Alina Ibragimova came on, smiling, to play Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto in E minor. Unlike various other concertos, this was written as a harmonious dialogue between soloist and orchestra. Ibragimova came in immediately with sweet-toned virtuosity, and the orchestra politely took up the theme she suggested; in return, she repeated a new theme the orchestra offered. Ibragimova played with lovely legato, beautifully lyrical lines and an incredibly even tone, her fingers scurrying with ease across the fingerboard. In the cadenza, her gorgeous high notes were perfectly in tune.
“Ibragimova played with lovely legato, beautifully lyrical lines and an incredibly even tone”
Ibragimova began the second movement with an endless, romantically nostalgic melody, a song without words, supported by lovely orchestral harmonies. The solo violin joined the orchestral textures as they played a joyous dance. The woodwind played a chorale as the movement ended on an incredibly high violin note. In the third movement, Ibragimova had the courage to follow Mendelssohn’s opening marking faithfully: ‘sempre pianissimo e leggiero’ (always very quiet and light). This was music of pure joy, fleet of foot, with orchestra and soloist perfectly matching. Ibragimova’s fingers barely rested throughout the movement, but the notes flowed with great facility as she made it all look easy. At the end, there was a huge cheer and well-deserved applause for this stunning performance.
The second half featured Gustav Mahler’s Symphony No. 4. The first movement continued where the violin concerto left off, depicting joy. Repeated sleigh bells evoked the jolly sound of a (one horse?) open sleigh, foreshadowing their use in the fourth movement, which envisions heaven. But, as Stephen Johnson pointed out in a fascinating programme note, Mahler was also concerned with ‘mysteries and horrors’ which creep into what often appears to be one of the lightest of his symphonies.
“The orchestra excelled in the first movement”
The orchestra excelled in the first movement, with an elegant opening string melody, fierce wind theme, gentle nostalgia in the cellos, and characterful woodwinds in a Mozartian theme that Mahler described as a ‘Viennese Waltz..’ The four flutes were suitably rustic. Clarinets and oboes cheerfully raised their bells to project the sound. The horns were superb throughout, particularly Andrew Littlemore’s solos. The movement featured glittering orchestral climaxes, cries of anguish, sinister muted trumpets, ominous timpani and a hint of the funeral march from Mahler’s Symphony No. 5, but it ended as playfully as it began.
In some ways, the second movement was the opposite of the harmonious violin concerto. Guest Leader Stephanie Gonley played two violins, one tuned a tone higher than normal. I always enjoy the moment in a rock concert when a roadie comes on stage and swaps the lead guitarist’s instrument during a song. Gonley solved the problem by having her second instrument on a piano stool. The solo violin, which may represent death, sounded demonic, deliberately strained and fragmented, fighting the orchestra.
The third movement began like a conventional symphonic slow movement, with a long-limbed, endless melody on cellos, casting forward to the Adagietto in Mahler’s next symphony. Glowing upper strings joined; the orchestra’s playing here was magical, spellbinding, and beautifully paced. But darkness threatened again, with a series of sudden dynamic shifts that Storgårds managed superbly. Warm string melodies were disrupted by ambiguous-sounding brass and woodwind. A cheery dance section ended in grotesquerie: a dance of death? The spectacular false ending gave way to shimmering strings and harp flourishes, another moment of magic.
“Tehoval made an auspicious debut with the orchestra; hopefully, we will see her again soon.”
The sleigh bells returned in the fourth movement, a setting of Das himmlische Leben (The Heavenly Life), from Des Knaben Wunderhorn, which inspired the whole symphony. Mahler was very clear in the score that he wanted it ‘To be sung in a happy childlike manner, absolutely without parody.’ Soprano Sheva Tehoval, making her debut with the orchestra, was perfect for the role. She sang with a smile on her face and in her voice; sounding youthful and clear, light and lyrical. As Mahler requested, she maintained a childlike quality in her tone and stage presence, even when the orchestral writing sounded slightly sour on the words in the second verse, which described the brutality of Howard the Butcher and Saint Luke the slaughterer. In the final verse, she cherished the words that describe the music of heaven: ‘There is no music on earth/That can compare to ours.’ Tehoval made an auspicious debut with the orchestra; hopefully, we will see her again soon.
Personnel
Alina Ibragimova violin
Sheva Tehoval soprano
BBC Philharmonic Orchestra
John Storgårds conductor
Repertoire
Cassandra Miller Swim
Felix Mendelssohn Violin Concerto in E minor
Gustav Mahler Symphony No. 4
The concert was recorded for broadcast on BBC Radio 3’s Radio 3 in Concert on Tuesday 4 November. It will be available for 30 days after broadcast via BBC Sounds
Sources
Anne Carson, Winter Margins: An Essay on Swimming by My Brother from Plainwater: Essays and Poetry (Vintage Books, 2000)
Programme notes by Cassandra Miller, Monika Hennemann and Stephen Johnson
Now read on…
Cassandra Miller’s viola concerto, I cannot love without trembling
Cassandra Miller’s Perfect Offering
More writing by Stephen Johnson