Category: BBC Philharmonic

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BBC Philharmonic Orchestra – Serenade for Strings – Live Review

Friday 5 December 2025

RNCM, Manchester

*****

The strings of the BBC Philharmonic shine in music by Bartók and Tchaikovsky

The Strings of the BBC Philharmonic directed by Zoë Beyers. Image © Chris Payne/BBC

Last Friday’s concert at the RNCM in Manchester was directed from the violin by the Leader of the BBC Philharmonic, Zoë Beyers, and featured the orchestra’s string section. The first half of the concert was devoted to Béla Bartók’s Divertimento for strings, written in 1939 on the eve of WWII. Beyers pointed out that the piece was influenced by ‘the sentiments of war’. In his programme note, Tim Rutherford-Johnson quoted Bartók’s letter to his elder son Béla Bartók Jr., ‘the newspapers are full of military articles [and] military preparedness.’ A year later, Bartók left his troubled home country of Hungary to settle in New York, where he died an American citizen in 1945.

Beyers pointed out another possible influence on the work, Bartók’s poor early health (see below). She said the composer wrote music from a very young age; he didn’t speak until he was four. He was treated with arsenic for a troubling rash which he developed following the smallpox vaccine. His mother, a pianist, communicated with him by playing dance tunes to him on the piano, which made him smile. So the music he wrote in the Divertimento (traditionally a form of attractive, light, entertaining music, as in Mozart’s Divertimenti) was coloured by his outbursts of ‘anger and frustration… about his very tortured childhood’ as much as by ‘unrest in Europe.’ It was up to us to decide what influenced the composer.

Bartók’s Early Health

According to the composer’s elder son, the young Bartók had the smallpox vaccination at the age of three months, after which he developed a skin condition called exanthema:
‘The permanent itchiness, the people shocked with the sight of the spots, and the many medical treatments without any result made him a reticent child... the disease came to an end when he was five years old because of a new treatment, the use of arsenics.‘

Source: Béla Bartók’s Diseases (1981)

Image: Bartók at 18 (Wikimedia Commons)

Bartók’s Divertimento draws not only on Mozart’s model but also on an earlier one, the Baroque concerto grosso. This musical form uses a small group of solo strings and contrasts them with a larger string orchestra. On Friday, the soloists sat in a semi-circle in the middle of the orchestra. All the soloists played superbly, and it was fascinating to hear the contrast in intensity between the smaller and larger groups. The acoustics of the RNCM Concert Hall were ideal for this concert, warm, intimate and precise.

The Divertimento began with a robust, folky melody that suddenly twisted, was joyfully restated, then gave way to a gentle, dancing melody that fell over itself. A typically Bartókian repeated high note was followed by pensive chords, then a rhapsodic, twisty folk dance. A mini-fugue featured a lovely solo cello. There was a hint of darkness as the music reached an anguished climax, the strings playing with a beautiful sense of controlled passion. Fragments of melody were passed across the strings, and the movement ended with a return of the joyful dance.

The second movement was much darker, with haunting, eerie night music. A long, slow, anxious melody on violins suggested the eve of war. This was a spine-chilling moment, as the strings played as one. A sudden climax fell away just as quickly as it appeared. A rhythmic two-note figure had an urgent, compelling sense of unease. With a visceral shock, the music dropped into a different key. With mounting terror, the violins crept gradually upwards, then the music fell away into the depths. There was a brief vision of a new, meditative vista from the solo strings, before a moment of concentrated terror, with oscillating, shimmering strings that grew to an anguished climax. The music relaxed into a concordant chord, interrupted by screaming violins, before a brief, pensive ending.

After the tension of the second movement, the third and final one was a welcome release. It began with a fierce peasant dance, then a theme that teemed across the orchestra. They played vigorous unison sections with fierce rhythms as strings snapped aggressively against fingerboards with intense joy. A highlight was a virtuosic, folky solo from Zoë Beyers. There was a moment of sardonic humour when a short pizzicato section inexplicably burst in. The movement then rushed towards a joyful end. Beyers beamed, and there were smiles from other players. They had clearly been enjoying themselves.

The Strings of the BBC Philharmonic directed by Zoë Beyers. Image © Chris Payne/BBC

The concert restarted after the interval with the orchestra already on stage, waiting for the audience as we dashed to our seats. Beyers decided that the second-half piece, Tchaikovsky’s Serenade for Strings, needed no introduction. Sitting on a slightly raised platform so the other players could see her, she was a benign and enthusiastic director from the violin, the first among equals.

In his programme note, Edward Bhesania wrote that, despite his personal crises, Tchaikovsky wrote the Serenade without any commission or programmatic theme: ‘just a sheer delight in music for its own sake.’ He wrote, ‘I composed [it] from real conviction.. it’s a heartfelt piece and so, I dare to think, is not lacking in real qualities.’

Tchaikovsky was too modest about the piece’s qualities. Even the simple upward scale that began the first movement was imbued with rich melody. The orchestra’s playing was warm-hearted in the romantic melodies and precise in the running semi-quavers that started to dominate the movement. There was a moment of joy as a theme scattered like a golden fountain, then ran like a limpid stream with sweeping gestures around it. Pizzicato notes in the lower strings were played in perfect time. The performers brought out the complexity of the orchestral writing as the lines interweaved. There was an incredible sense of flow and momentum, as they played like soloists, but completely together.

The second movement was a short, elegant waltz played with vigour and poise. The melody had a little catch in it, like a Schubert song or a Mozart aria. The orchestra’s playing was gorgeous in this charming, delicate vignette.

The elegiac third movement took us into a magical new world. The slow climbing scale of the first movement became tender and nostalgic. Tchaikovsky demonstrated his mastery of melody with a delicate dance that pulled at the heartstrings. The tune then passed into the minor, showing his mastery of harmonic development as well. The violas played the long melody, with lovely, delicate ornamentation. The lower strings shone in a contemplative section, and there was a spellbinding moment of quiet on the upper strings. Played with stunning control, there was a gentle re-statement of the opening theme, valedictory now.

In the fourth movement, the music grew out of nothing, a simple folk song after the complexity of the earlier movements, with a lovely counter-melody. Another jolly folk tune burst in, played joyfully, followed by a lilting theme on the lower strings that passed to the upper strings. It was fascinating to watch all the bows moving in unison in the music’s grand gestures. The orchestra played with dynamic energy throughout, and the internal pulse remained firm even as the music became more complex. The movement ended with a triumphant scamper. Beyers saluted the orchestra and tried to persuade them to stand, but they refused, preferring to applaud her!

This was the first of a new collaboration between the orchestra and the RNCM. If future concerts are as good as this one we will be in for a treat.

The Strings of the BBC Philharmonic. Image © Chris Payne/BBC

Programme

Béla Bartók Divertimento
Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky Serenade for Strings

Performers

Strings of the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra
Zoë Beyers director

Sources

Programme notes by Tim Rutherford-Johnson and Edward Bhesania
Bartók, Béla, Béla Bartók’s Diseases (Studia Musicologica Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae, vol. 23, no. 1/4, 1981, pp. 427–41. JSTOR)

This concert is part of the new series: BBC Philharmonic Orchestra at the RNCM

Read on…

BBC Philharmonic Orchestra – Mahler’s ‘Titan’ – Symphony No. 1 – Live Review
BBC Philharmonic Orchestra – Fountain of Youth – Live Review
BBC Philharmonic Orchestra – Mahler Symphony No. 3 ‘The Voice of Nature’ – Live Review
BBC Philharmonic Orchestra – Mahler Symphony No. 9 – Live Review
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BBC Philharmonic Orchestra – Mahler’s ‘Titan’ – Symphony No. 1 – Live Review

Saturday 8 November 2025

Bridgewater Hall, Manchester

****

Elena Schwarz conducts nature-themed Debussy and Mahler, with the Manchester premiere of Dani Howard’s trombone concerto

The BBC Philharmonic Orchestra, conductor Elena Schwarz and trombonist Peter Moore. Photo © Chris Payne

Saturday’s concert at the Bridgewater Hall in Manchester was an exploration of the power of nature, in two great ‘symphonic’ works by Debussy and Mahler, bookending a rare beast, a trombone concerto.

Nature bared its teeth in the opening piece, which was La Mer (The Sea) by Claude Debussy, premiered in Paris in 1905. He began working on it in 1903 in Bichain in Burgundy, central France, well away from the sea. He wrote to the composer André Messager, telling him he was working on the new piece,

‘You’re unaware, maybe, that I was intended for the noble career of a sailor and have only deviated from that path thanks to the quirks of fate. Even so, I’ve retained a sincere devotion to the sea.’

He finished the work in 1905 while staying at the Grand Hotel in Eastbourne. But he didn’t draw inspiration from the sea views there. The composer wrote to his publisher, Jacques Durand, ‘It’s a charming, peaceful spot. The sea unfurls itself with an utterly British correctness.’ He was inspired instead by the sea as depicted by JMW Turner in his seascapes. Turner was sometimes in dispute with what he saw as ‘British correctness’, as portrayed in his sometimes uneasy relationship with the Royal Academy of Arts in Mike Leigh’s 2014 film Mr Turner.

Debussy was also inspired by The Great Wave off Kanagawa by the Japanese Artist Hokusai. He used a reproduction of that print on the cover of the original score. This famous image is stylised but not Impressionistic. In her programme note, Caroline Rae points out that Debussy ‘compared his vibrant orchestration with the paintings of Les Fauves (‘The Wild Beasts’), ‘famed in Paris at the time for their dramatic use of colour.’

The Great Wave off Kanagawa by the Japanese Artist Hokusai. Source: Metropolitan Museum of Art via Wikimedia Commons

On Saturday, the wild beast of the sea was unleashed by the BBC Philharmonic under conductor Elena Schwarz. Her conducting revealed the central paradox of this piece, which Robert Philip describes in his excellent book The Classical Music Lover’s Companion to Orchestral Music,

‘It’s easy to forget that such a well-known orchestral masterpiece, on first hearing, may seem formless, a succession of washes of sound, or a sort of ‘stream of consciousness.’’

This is the effect that Debussy presumably wanted to achieve – the rawness of nature exhibited in the terrible beauty of the sea. As Philps points out,

‘There is nothing vague or haphazard about [Debussy’s] compositional methods. The whole work is carefully structured using a small number of motifs that recur and are transformed.’

Schwarz’s conducting was very precise and measured, superbly controlling the apparent turbulence of the orchestral writing. The opening movement, De L’aube à Midi Sur la Mer (From Dawn to Midday on the Sea) began in a mood of intense quiet, with glittering, shimmering sounds describing the breaking of dawn. There was a beautiful patchwork of orchestral colour, as the sea ceaselessly ebbed and flowed. There were lovely solos from Victoria Daniel (flute), leader Zoë Beyers (violin) and Henrietta Cooke (cor anglais).

In the second movement, Jeux de Vagues (Games of Waves), Schwarz brought out great detail in Debussy’s orchestral colours, such as the glockenspiel played by Paul Patrick at the beginning and end of the movement. She captured the playful joy of the waves, and there was a lovely moment when the precision of the brass was offset against sweeping strings.

The final movement, Dialogue du Vent et de la Mer (Dialogue of the Wind and the Sea, illustrated the sea in all its moods. It began with the ominous rumble of lower strings and percussion, anxious upper strings and roaring brass. A lovely woodwind melody reached for light and hope. Lurching waves in the upper strings were offset against the lower strings, leading to a climax that brought to mind a similar climax in Paul Dukas’ The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, written only a few years earlier, so memorably brought to life in Disney’s Fantasia in 1940. There was a moment of calm with a lovely violin melody, disrupted by sudden danger from the cellos. A yearning, simple melody led to a joyful climax. The sea felt powerful but no longer dangerous. Playful pizzicato on cellos was offset against shimmering brass, before the piece reached a final, stunning climax.

Dani Howard. Source: danihoward.com

Dani Howard wrote her Trombone Concerto in 2021 for Peter Moore (Saturday’s soloist) and the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra. The COVID pandemic hadn’t struck when the orchestra commissioned the work. By the time Howard began writing, the world was in lockdown, and only key workers were allowed out. The concerto is partly Howard’s tribute to those workers. As Timmy Fisher says in his programme note

‘The everyday heroics of bus drivers and refuse workers were suddenly getting the recognition they deserved. Howard’s concerto is a celebration of these people, and their resolve during the pandemic provides its emotional arc.’

The concerto began with bustling violas in the early Minimalist style of the American composer John Adams, evoking the everyday lives of those workers. The trombone entered with an insouciant four-note theme, which appeared again at the start of the second movement. Howard’s initial instruction to the trombonist is to ‘play as if you are totally oblivious to your surroundings.’ The first movement is titled ‘Realisation’, and it was fascinating to hear the moment when the trombone came into synch with the orchestra, as if suddenly realising the role the key workers had in the pandemic and wondering how to contribute. Moore played with a warm tone and evocative slides. Sometimes his playing was virtuosic, but at other times his instrument was part of the orchestral texture rather than showy. At the end of the movement, there was the first concerto-like moment when the trombone played a lyrical tune accompanied by slow orchestral chords suspended beneath.

The highlight of the concerto was the second movement, ‘Rumination’, in which the solo trombone ruminated on ‘the seed of an idea’ introduced in the first movement. Moore, using that rich tone that we associate with the North’s finest brass bands, was echoed by two muted trombones in the orchestra. A brass band chorale gradually joined, and in this moment of contemplation, it felt as if we were suspended outside time. An eternal melody wound its way gradually from one part of the orchestra to another, with slow-moving blocks of colour. Flourishes from the flutes could have come from La Mer, making this a good companion piece to the earlier piece. Finally, there was a minor explosion from the orchestra, as if a moment of resolution had finally been reached.

The final movement, ‘Illumination’, was written to be ‘as explosively positive as possible.’ It began with more Minimalism from the strings and an angular trombone part. Moore played a stunningly virtuosic passage – his playing had been superb throughout the concerto. After an ecstatic orchestral passage, the piece reached a climactic end. The orchestra smiled and clapped in acknowledgement of Moore’s magnificent playing, and Schwarz picked out the trombonists and brass section for separate applause. There were more smiles from composer Dani Howard as she came on stage to receive her applause.

The BBC Philharmonic Orchestra, conductor Elena Schwarz and trombonist Peter Moore. Photo © Chris Payne

The second half marked a return to the nature theme, in the form of Mahler’s Symphony No. 1, the ‘Titan’. It began with string harmonics and woodwind, creating a sense of stasis followed by expectation as nature came to life, marked by Mahler in the score ‘Wie ein Naturlaut’ (Like a sound of nature). Birdsong was created by a solo clarinet (John Bradbury) as a cuckoo and an oboe (Jennifer Galloway) as a chaffinch. Four offstage trumpets created the sound of hunting horns. Mahler cleverly used the cuckoo’s call to form the opening notes of his song Ging heut’ Morgen über’s Feld from his earlier song cycle Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen (Songs of a Wayfarer). As Jo Kirkbride astutely pointed out in her programme note, this was ‘ Mahler’s first gesture towards incorporating song within the symphony.’ The song is the happiest in the cycle, describing the protagonist walking across the fields, singing about how lovely the world is. There were two joyful climaxes, then we returned to the shimmering strings of the opening, with more birdcalls: a moment of quiet joy beautifully shaped by the orchestra under Schwarz. A melody in the cellos, joyful at first, turned darker, but the birds continued singing valiantly. The danger passed, and with a sudden key change, we moved to a rustic, pastoral passage, then a serenely lilting melody. The orchestra reached a glowing climax, excellently played. The movement’s witty false ending elicited a few wry smiles from the audience.

The second movement was a robust country dance of the type that Mahler often brought into his later symphonies. Schwarz became more animated as she conducted the symphony, dancing lightly on her podium, enjoying the repeated melody. There was a slight note of sarcasm from the brass, and the writing became more sophisticated as we passed through the keys. A highlight was the perfectly controlled lower strings. A tentative horn theme led to an elegant trio, beautifully poised.

The Huntsman’s Funeral by Moritz von Schwind, 1850 (Public domain)

The third movement began with a minor-key version of Frère Jacques (Brother John), known to Mahler as Bruder Martin (Brother Martin). This reminded me of the great comedian Bill Bailey’s witty, sarcastic turning of the theme for Match of the Day and the American National Anthem into minor-key laments.  Mahler said the inspiration for the movement came from an illustration in the children’s book ‘The Huntsman’s Funeral.’ We were back in nature again, this time with a sardonic twist. Various forest animals carried the coffin in Moritz von Schwind’s 1850 woodcut. This time, the cuckoo turned his song into Die zwei blauen Augen (my love’s two blue eyes) from Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen. The song has a bitter-sweet quality, with its constant switching between major and minor in the melody, recalling the minor-key transposition of Frère Jacques. Schwarz controlled this section beautifully. The funeral procession returned, darker and more sardonic than before, burying the Frère Jacques tune.

The fourth movement burst in with an anguished climax. The brass was stunning here, providing a visceral thrill. This movement was a showpiece for the orchestra, who played with passion, precision and conviction throughout. It was also a tribute to Mahler’s skills as a composer: despite various revisions and the fact that this was his first symphony, this movement utterly convinces. A confident march with swirling strings was punctured by a little, sarcastic descending theme that kept recurring. A never-ending string melody was decorated by the lovely solo horn played by Mihajlo Bulajic. The anguish of the start returned, with sarcastic trumpets; there was a touch of Wagner in the brass here. An ecstatic climax faded away, giving way to another long-limbed melody on the strings, beautifully played with a sense of inevitability. The cellos took over the melody. In a later symphony, Mahler could have used this to provide a glimpse of heaven, but here it represented a return to the calm of nature. The orchestra reached a sunny climax, all anguish finally gone, then fell away again. A niggling, slightly angry theme on the violas prompted a return to the opening march, now more optimistic. The hunting horns returned, and the orchestra’s struggle felt vindicated. Schwarz leapt on her podium, sharing the pure joy of the end. As directed by Mahler, several brass players stood to deliver a golden theme. We suddenly reached the sunlit uplands, with a huge final flourish. There was massive, and well-deserved applause. Schwarz highlighted individual soloists, all of whom were excellent. Ronan Dunne, the double-bass soloist, gave a lovely little twirl on his bass. Schwarz brought the whole orchestra to its feet, ending a fine performance.

BBC Philharmonic Orchestra
Peter Moore trombone
Elena Schwarz conductor

Repertoire

Debussy La Mer
Dani Howard Trombone Concerto
Mahler Symphony No. 1

Sources

Robert Philip, The Classical Music Lover’s Companion to Orchestral Music (Yale University Press, 2018)
Dani Howard and Timmy Fisher: Sleeve Notes to Dani Howard Orchestral Works (Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra)
Programme notes by Caroline Rae, Timmy Fisher and Jo Kirkbride

Broadcast

The concert concert will be broadcast on In Concert on BBC Radio 3 on 18 November and will be available for 30 days after broadcast via BBC Sounds

Read on…

BBC Philharmonic Orchestra – Mahler Symphony No. 3 ‘The Voice of Nature’ – Live Review
BBC Philharmonic Orchestra – Mahler Symphony No. 9 – Live Review
BBC Philharmonic Orchestra – Fountain of Youth – Live Review
Mahler Symphony No. 8 – Live Review
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BBC Philharmonic Orchestra – Fountain of Youth – Live Review

Saturday 20 September 2025

Bridgewater Hall, Manchester

****

A triumphant opening to the BBC Philharmonic’s new season

Violinist Augustin Hadelich with members of the BBC Philharmonic. Image © Chris Payne

On Saturday evening, Manchester was plagued by heavy rain of almost biblical proportions, causing roads to flood; we saw a stranded car on the drive in. So it was a pleasure to escape the weather and take sanctuary in the Bridgewater Hall, which from the front resembles an ark. A fanfare greeted us, a prelude to the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra’s new season. In the Gallery foyer, no fewer than nine bagpipers were assembled to perform LAD by the orchestra’s new Composer in Residence, Julia Wolfe. The last time the piece was heard in the Bridgewater Hall was when it was performed by Rakhi Singh of Manchester Collective at the Manchester Classical festival in June. The version for bagpipes began with drones, joined by wailing upwards glissandos, marked in the score as ‘slow glisses’. They called to mind the auditory illusion known as the Shepard Tone, an effect Hans Zimmer used in his Dunkirk score, where the music seems to be constantly rising when it’s actually coming back on itself. The pipers played resolutely against the backdrop of a dystopian sky visible thorugh the hall’s huge windows. There were two folky tunes, one marked ‘Slow’, which was slow, and the second marked ‘Fast’, which was fast. It was an invigorating and spectacular opening to the new season.

One of the pipers playing Julia Wolfe’s LAD. Image © Chris Payne

The main concert began with another piece by Wolfe, Fountain of Youth. Composed in 2019 for the New World Symphony youth orchestra, it was heard for the first time in the UK on Saturday. Adam Szabo, the Director of the BBC Philharmonic, announced that Wolfe is ‘our very shiny new composer in residence’, and based on her two pieces, there’s a lot to look forward to in the collaboration.

Juilia Wolfe, the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra’s new Composer in Residence. Image © Peter Serling

Fountain of Youth began with the terrifying scraping of strings and rattling washboards, which sounded like marching soldiers or a huge robot clanking as it walked. Wolfe directed that they should be ‘played like a work ritual.’ A fractured theme rose from the chaos, and a rising string theme reached for the light. The washboards reached a frenzy as a pounding theme emerged with growling brass. A heavy metal drum kit accompanied the orchestra as it wailed and cried like a wounded animal. The music reached a painful climax, then fell away to a single held note – a ray of light amidst the chaos? The piece ended with a frenzied, bacchanalian dance. A viscerally thrilling performance

My fountain of youth is music, and in this case I offer the orchestra a sassy, rhythmic, high energy swim.

Julia Wolfe

This was followed by Prokofiev’s Second Violin Concerto, which he wrote in 1935. It was the last piece he was commissioned to write in Western Europe before returning to Russia the following year. The violin soloist was Augustin Hadelich, another in a long line of world-class soloists booked by the orchestra. The piece began with an unaccompanied theme for solo violin, which Hadelich played with beautiful legato and a gorgeous, rich tone before the theme was passed around the orchestra. A breathtakingly beautiful melody reminded us that Prokofiev was writing his ballet score Romeo and Juliet at the same time. Hadelich provided sweet-toned, virtuosic decoration above the orchestra, before his violin scampered away with majestic ease. There was a spellbinding moment when the orchestra sang the violin’s theme back to him, and he joined in with a luminous descant. The second movement began with the orchestra playing measured pizzicato in a stately dance. Hadelich played a stunning, long-limbed melody, revealing its romantic, fragile beauty. The orchestra danced balletically while the violin pirouetted like a principal ballerina. There was a moment of whimsy and subtlety as Hadelich played a sweet melody above a gentle waltz. The third movement featured passionate precision from Hadelich, the themes rustic yet sophisticated, like a peasant dance performed by a ballet troupe. Castanets provided a Spanish flavour, perhaps added by Prokofiev to celebrate the fact that the work was premiered in Spain. There was a final reprise of the opening rondo theme as the piece dashed to the end. The audience didn’t want Hadelich to leave without an encore, so he obliged with Coleridge-Taylor Perkinson’s Louisiana Blues Strut, ‘A Cakewalk.’ This was a bluesy piece for fiddle, evoking a hoedown as Hadelich donned a metaphorical cowboy hat. He played it superbly, and the audience applauded warmly.

The concert’s second half was devoted to Tchaikovsky’s Fifth Symphony, written in 1888 when the composer was plagued by self-doubt about his creative powers and his poor health. He was heartened by the success of the work’s premiere in September, writing to his brother Anatoly that ‘some even say that it is my best work.’ But by December, he wrote to his patron Nadezhda von Meck saying, ‘I am convinced that this symphony is not a success.’ By March, he told his brother Modest, ‘I love it again.’ The symphony began with a motto that haunts the work, like Banquo’s ghost appearing to Lady Macbeth at the banquet. The orchestra played it with slow, lugubrious deliberation, bringing out the emotion of the theme under John Storgårds’ superb direction. He shaped lovely dynamics and orchestral balance in the movement’s romantic theme, with twinkling woodwind. The orchestra played stylishly as Storgårds brought out colour and detail in the score. The movement ended with a sweeping, romantic theme that led to an epic climax as the players gave it their all, before a descent into the depths. The darkness continued at the start of the second movement as the strings rose from the deep. There was a lovely solo from guest principal horn Olivia Gandee, who played with a warmly nostalgic tone, intertwined with clarinet then oboe. The string playing was ravishing, as Storgårds brought out the richly romantic themes. The movement ended with a series of romantic climaxes played with yearning and longing. The third movement was a delicate waltz, played with charm and quiet joy but with perhaps a touch of sarcasm from the horns. This led immediately to the final movement, with the main motto returning in a major key. If Tchaikovsky had doubts about this movement – and some critics have criticised it as being unconvincing – the orchestra thoroughly assuaged those doubts. They played with great confidence and emotion, and the audience burst into enthusiastic applause at the end. We eagerly anticipate more delights from the orchestra this season, and from Composer in Residence Julia Wolfe.

Augustin Hadelich, John Storgårds and the BBC Philharmonic. Image © Chris Payne

Performers

Bede Patterson, John Mulhearn, Finn MacPherson, Dougal McKiggan, Ailis Sutherland, Lorne MacDougall, Ruairidh Ian Buxon, Rory Campbell, Fionnlagh Mac A’Phiocar bagpipes
BBC Philharmonic
John Storgårds Conductor
Augustin Hadelich violin

Repertoire

Julia Wolfe LAD (Pre-concert performance)
Julia Wolfe Fountain of Youth (first UK performance)
Sergey Prokofiev Violin Concerto No. 2 in G minor
Coleridge-Taylor Perkinson Louisiana Blues Strut ‘A Cakewalk’ (Encore for solo violin)

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky Symphony No. 5 in E minor

The concert will be broadcast on Radio 3 in Concert on Tuesday 28 October at 7.30 pm, and will be available for 30 days after broadcast on BBC Sounds

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Manchester Classical 2025 Day Two – Live Review

Musicians from the Hallé, the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra, RNCM, The Chorus of ENO and Hallé Choir

Sunday 29 June 2025

Bridgewater Hall, Manchester

For a review of day one of the festival click here and for the opening night click here

Musicians from the Hallé, the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra, RNCM, The Chorus of ENO and Hallé Choir
Musicians from the Hallé, the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra, RNCM, The Chorus of ENO and Hallé Choir. Image © Alex Burns

Manchester Collective: The Body Electric

The title of Sunday afternoon’s concert, The Body Electric, has been used in many cultural contexts, including music by Weather Report, Rush, The Sisters of Mercy and Lana Del Ray. The phrase comes from an 1855 poem by the American poet Walt Whitman, I Sing the Body Electric. The poem is divided into several sections, each celebrating a different aspect of human physicality. Rahki Singh, Co-Founder and Co-Artistic Director of the Collective, explained that the analogy of the body electric referred to the imaginative structure of the programme – the body as a big house with lots of different rooms, with ‘something new behind each door.’

One of the joys of following the Collective’s work is that the forces always vary from one concert to another – from a fairly large ensemble with choir in Rothko Chapel to a smaller ensemble with African drums, bass guitar, and the fantastic African cellist and singer Abel Selaocoe in Sirocco. On Sunday, the Collective consisted of two musicians, Singh on violin and the cellist and composer Zoë Martlew.

Zoë Martlew
Rakhi Singh and Zoë Martlew
Zoë Martlew
Rakhi Singh
Rakhi Singh and Zoë Martlew. Images © Alex Burns

The concert began with Singh ‘in outer space among the stars’, playing ‘Joy’, the first movement from David Lang’s Mystery Sonatas. Bathed in white light, with the rest of the hall in complete darkness, Singh played on the upper strings and with harmonics to create images of glacial beauty, an icy landscape in the depths of space. The piece had an almost spiritual feel, and Martlew retained the mood of a piece she described as ‘iconic… encoding geometry in sound’, the ‘Prelude’ to Bach’s Cello Suite No.1. Martlew played with a lovely tone, relatively slowly, and with expressive rubato.

Martlew’s response to Bach’s piece was her own composition, G-Lude, commissioned by Spitalfields Festival, and premiered in July 2021. She explained to the audience that she had become weary of live performance and spent lockdown in a ‘state of profound silence, looking out to sea, communing with nature.’ This marked a move from being a cellist to composing. She said her tribute to Bach’s piece was ‘based on the architecture of the original.’ G-Lude is a remarkable, unsettling work. At times, Martlew appeared to be fighting her cello, with exaggerated breathing that was written into the score. She felt like the Jimi Hendrix of the cello, playing like a rock star, with heavy metal riffs, scraped strings and gorgeous harmonics. She put the bow down and ended with a gentle, stately pizzicato.

This segued into Missy Mazzoli’s Vespers for solo violin, which Singh had performed in the Rothko Chapel concert. Embellished by electronics, the amplified violin part features echoed flourishes and long, held chords in the accompaniment. Singh created a vision of light, with a recorded female voice gradually becoming more prominent, creating a cathedral of sound. It was a profoundly moving, spiritual experience, which was enhanced by Martlew’s calm performance of the ‘Allemande and Sarabande’ from Bach’s Cello Suite No.1.

It would have been easy to end the concert with something equally contemplative, but Singh had other ideas. She finished with her arrangement of LAD by Julia Wolfe, written for nine bagpipes and premiered by the Bagpipe Orchestra in New York City in June 2007. Her arrangement was for solo violin and eight pre-recorded violins. Perhaps inspired by Martlew’s rock star stylings, she announced that she would put her violin through an octave pedal, normally used by rock guitarists. She told us the piece would take us to ‘the depth of the earth’ and that the ‘gnarly’ opening always made it feel ‘like her insides had been rearranged.’ Tunes were also promised.

LAD began with a fiercely disquieting, visceral two-note theme and then a terrifying rising phrase. The combination of a drone and this rising phrase created an effect like the Shepard Tone, where an auditory illusion is created of an endless, constantly rising phrase. It’s used very effectively to ratchet up anxiety and tension in Hans Zimmer’s score for Christopher Nolan’s 2017 film Dunkirk, and also by Pink Floyd at the end of their track Echoes. Singh eventually played the folky tune she had promised, an ecstatic smile on her face. A second, folky tune featured an evocative swoop, which brought to mind the stunning score that Jóhann Jóhannsson wrote for Denis Villeneuve’s 2016 film Arrival. A truly cinematic ending to an excellent concert.

Finale

The festival ended with a joyous celebration of classical music in Manchester, with combined forces from the Hallé, the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra, the RNCM, the Chorus of ENO and the Hallé Choir, superbly conducted by Alpesh Chauhan.

Alpesh Chauhan.
Aloesh Chauhan. Image © Alex Burns

The concert opened with the pulsating joy of John Adams’ Short Ride in a Fast Machine, with all the musicians playing as one with infectious exuberance under Chauhan’s passionate baton. The audience reaction at the end was highly enthusiastic. The buzz that had been palpable throughout the festival, in the outdoor events as well as those on the main stage, continued right to the end of the festival.

Perhaps the highlight of the Finale was Iain Farrington’s Street Party, which had its world premiere on Sunday. In a fascinating pre-concert talk with Elizabeth Alker, he explained that he had written the new work in a jazzy style, partly inspired by composers like Gershwin and Bernstein, continuing a musical line from Saturday evening’s concert. He said that British orchestras are now used to playing jazz; when Alker asked him whether they might improvise during his piece, he replied, ‘I hope not!’

Farrington’s brief was to write a piece for the final concert in ‘this amazing festival.’ His aimed to create something ‘joyous, celebratory, open and inclusive… with a carnival atmosphere.’ He grew up in the market town of Hitchin in Hertfordshire. Some of his earliest memories are of outdoor festivals and street parties, including one that was closed down by the police because it was too popular (an experience which fed directly into the piece, as we found out later). He wanted to bring ‘outdoor music to an indoor situation.’ Along the way, he gave a huge compliment to Manchester’s Bridgewater Hall, ‘The most amazing concert hall… We’d kill for a hall like this in London.’

Street Party began with rollicking percussion and jazzy brass. There was a series of solo sections for wind, strings, brass and tuba. Farrington explained that this was to showcase the parts of the orchestra, a bit like Benjamin Britten’s Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra. It also sounded at times like the theme tune from an American TV series, of the kind that the late, great Quincy Jones used to write. The chorus joined, with a wordless chant of ‘Na, na, na’, which Farrington said was meant to sound like a crowd singing along at a pop festival. The piece was immediately attractive and moved the feet as well as the soul. At the end, there was an amusing coup de théâtre. Two ‘officers’, from the entertainment division of the police, walked to the front of the hall and ‘arrested’ the composer, presumably for creating excessive joy in a built up area. It was a fair cop.

The Chorus of ENO and Hallé Choir
The Chorus of ENO and Hallé Choir. Image © Alex Burns

Borodin’s Polovtsian Dances provided us with an early opportunity to hear the chorus of English National Orchestra prior to them coming to Manchester later in the year. They didn’t disappoint; the sound was huge but well-balanced. The final piece was Respighi’s Pines of Rome, a chance for the combined orchestra to shine. There was a glittering opening, perfectly describing children playing amongst the pines. In the second movement, luxurious lower strings were joined by evocative, muted horns to create the subdued atmosphere of the Roman catacombs. An offstage trumpet, played in the gallery, had a lovely limpid tone. The plainsong chant of the priests was beautifully evoked as the movement reached its climax. The third movement was a nocturne, which began with a piano motif and a mellow clarinet solo. There was a lovely moment when there was a sudden change of harmony in the strings and heart-meltingly gorgeous orchestral playing in a huge romantic sweep. The recording of a nightingale that the score demands was perfectly blended with the orchestra. To end, we went back in history to the marching of Roman soldiers along the Appian Way, gradually building to a climax with majestic inevitability. Coruscating offstage brass joined, and finally the organ, as the music reached its apotheosis. What a way to end a wonderful festival!

Artists and repertoire

Manchester Collective: The Body Electric

David Lang Mystery Sonatas, mvt 1. Joy
J.S. Bach Prelude from Cello Suite No.1 in G Major
Zoe Martlew G-Lude
Missy Mazzoli Vespers
J.S. Bach Allemande and Sarabande from Cello Suite No.1 in G major
Julia Wolfe arr. Rakhi Singh LAD

Rakhi Singh violin (Co-Founder and Co-Artistic Director of Manchester Collective)
Zoë Martlew cello

Pre-concert talk – Iain Farrington and Elizabeth Alker

Iain Farrington composer
Elizabeth Alker presenter

Finale

John Adams Short Ride in a Fast Machine
Iain Farrington Street Party (world premiere)
Borodin Polovtsian Dances
Respighi Pines of Rome

Alpesh Chauhan conductor
Musicians from the Hallé, the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra, RNCM, The Chorus of ENO and Hallé Choir

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Manchester Classical 2025 Day One – Live Review

Riot Ensemble

Saturday 28 June 2025

Bridgewater Hall, Manchester

For a review of the opening night of Manchester Classical, click here and for day two click here

Riot Ensemble
Riot Ensemble. Image © Alex Burns

RNCM Symphony Orchestra and Chorus – Gustav Mahler Symphony No. 2 ‘Resurrection’

Manchester has a long association with Mahler’s music. His Symphony No. 1 was performed in Manchester as long ago as 1913, conducted by Michael Balling, only two years after the composer’s death. Later, Sir John Barbirolli became a great advocate of Mahler with the Hallé, apparently spending nearly 50 hours rehearsing the Ninth Symphony. In 2010, there was an epic cycle of all his symphonies in the Mahler in Manchester series, celebrating the 150th anniversary of the composer’s birth. And one of the early concerts in the newly refurbished RNCM concert hall about a decade ago was a performance of Mahler’s Symphony No. 2, with RNCM forces so big that the chorus had to perform from the balcony above the audience.

Manchester continues to showcase Mahler. The most recent concerts of his symphonies I have heard in the last year are Symphony No. 5 (Sir Mark Elder’s last concert with the Hallé) and the BBC Philharmonic performing Symphony No. 3 and Symphony No. 9 . Mahler famously said, ‘a symphony must be like the world. It must contain everything’, so his Second Symphony, with a vast orchestra, choir and two female soloists, was an excellent way of ensuring that as many members of the RNCM as possible could pack the stage and the Choir seats. The Dutch conductor Antony Hermus gave an insightful analysis of the five movements of the symphony and ended by quoting a Dutch saying, ‘who has the youth has the future’, which certainly applied here.

Members of the RNCM Symphony Orchestra
Members of the RNCM Symphony Orchestra. Image © Alex Burns

Hermus was an undemonstrative conductor but very clear. He brought out the pacing in the first movement with a lovely, slow unfolding of its Wagnerian lines. The audience respected the short silence he requested at the end of the movement (Mahler asked for five minutes). The second movement began with a beautifully controlled Ländler, before a second, more anxious theme, teeming with intense life. It was lovely to see the smiles on the faces of the musicians as they gently plucked the returning Ländler theme. The Scherzo captured the movement’s uplifting joy, lightness, and sarcastic, almost outlandish spirit. After this, we headed without a break to the triumphant final movement. The mezzo-soprano Yvonne Howard, who studied at the RNCM and now teaches there, brought smooth legato lines, with clear diction and a calm stage presence. Scottish soprano Ellie Forrester, who is studying at the RNCM under Mary Plazas, sang with incredible, Wagnerian power, soaring majestically above the huge forces. The two singers were well-matched in their duet. The excellent RNCM Symphony Chorus began singing while seated, with a gorgeous sotto voce. Later, when they stood up, they showed that their voices could match those of the ENO Chorus (who we heard later in the festival) in operatic power and precision. The offstage brass parts brought an evocative depth to the sound. After a series of sensational climaxes from the orchestra, we reached the moment of resurrection. At the end, Hermus thanked the performers for their passion. There was a well-deserved standing ovation from the audience, and a cheer for each section as Hermus asked them to take a bow.

Riot Ensemble: Coral Formations

Riot Ensemble is an international collective of virtuoso musicians, with members and projects across the UK, Germany, Iceland, and beyond. It specialises in contemporary classical music and has given over 350 World and UK premieres by composers from more than 35 countries since 2012. The good news for Mancunian music lovers is that the Ensemble has chosen Manchester as their home base. This was the first concert to mark their new home. As they say on their website,

‘Why Manchester? Because the classical music scene here is simply electric: welcoming, ambitious, and fiercely creative.‘

Violinist and Co-Artistic Director Marie Schreer introduced the two works, both UK premieres. The first was Shrimp BIT Babyface by Alex Paxton, born and bred in Manchester. Schreer said it was a mix of ‘bonkers disco’ and folk music. It started with an eerie violin solo, then an explosion of free jazz cacophony, followed by a gentle electronic section, feeling its way towards a tune. A collection of alarming noises led to more free jazz, and a sound of a tape machine speeding up. There was sometimes a 1960s avant-garde vibe, like John Lennon’s Revolution 9 from The Beatles’ White Album (1968). There was a sudden pause, and the music tried to come together as if the score for a string quartet had been smudged while still wet, accompanied by bleeping electronics. Then there was a jolly folk tune. Followed by frenzied, contrapuntal gaming music. An unhinged disco section with heavy electronic percussion collapsed into utter chaos. All the while, Aaron Holloway-Nahum conducted with admirable resolution and precision. An invigorating performance of a fantastically unnerving and colourful piece, which brought joy and confusion in equal measure – a riotous explosion of euphoria.

Riot Ensemble
Riot Ensemble. Image © Alex Burns

The second, much shorter piece was Seafloor Dawn Chorus by the Norwegian composer Kristine Tjøgerse, who has worked with biologists researching at the Barrier Reef.  Schreer explained that the fish have dawn and dusk choruses, although sadly, they are quieter now. The piece began with slow, contemplative electronics and evocative sound effects. Scraped cello strings, string harmonics and Whirly Tubes created the noises of undersea creatures. Analogue noises replaced the electronics of Paxton’s piece. It gradually gained momentum, then suddenly stopped. If this programme is typical of Riot Ensemble, we have much to look forward to.

BBC Philharmonic Orchestra: Gershwin, Bernstein and Strauss

The BBC Philharmonic has had a superb season. On Saturday evening, German conductor Anja Bihlmaier conducted them in a programme of Strauss, Gershwin and Bernstein, titled ‘Music from Beginnings and Endings’. The concert began with Richard Strauss’s tone poem, Death and Transfiguration, which Bihlmaier described as a natural successor to Mahler 2, with its themes of ‘passion, life, death, and life after death.’ Her conducting was calm at first, as warm strings played at a measured pace with the smooth, luxurious sound we have associated with the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra this season, with perfect ensemble. As the piece reached its first climax, Bihlmaier became more animated, expressive and communicative, dancing on the platform. She combined passion with precision, drawing out stunning detail in the orchestral parts. The orchestra responded superbly to her direction, and this was a compelling performance.

Piamist Hayato Sumino with members of the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra
Piamist Hayato Sumino with members of the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra. Image © Alex Burns

The concert continued in a jazzier style with George Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue for piano and orchestra. The soloist was the Japanese pianist and composer Hayato Sumino, whose playing was a revelation. He had a lovely touch, with an even tone and impressive weight in the lower register, but also brought out the jazzy elements of the score. At one point, he brought out a small keyboard and perched it on top of the piano, playing solos with his right hand with a clarinet-like sound that matched the famous opening clarinet solo. The orchestra was an able partner, with characterful solos and syncopation so joyful it was difficult to sit still. At the end, Sumino showed the more romantic side of his playing – it would be fascinating to hear him play a romantic piano concerto. He played delicately at the top of the piano, with fantastic speed and precision. Bihlmaier pulled the orchestra tempo back at the end for one final, ecstatic statement of the main theme, and Sumino received a well-deserved standing ovation and roars of ‘bravo.’

The concert ended with more jazz, this time a description of, in the conductor’s words, the very different style of Leonard Bernstein – the grooving vibes of ‘flashy New York’. She reminded us also that Bernstein’s Symphonic Dances from West Side Story are not just ‘nice’ to listen to, but also describe the fight between two gangs from different worlds; universal themes are brought to life by the kaleidoscopic colours of Latin American percussion and rhythms. Like a close-knit jazz band, the orchestra played the syncopated rhythms with style and grace. Bihlmaier swayed to the rhythms, and it was difficult for the audience not to sway with her. They did join in with an ecstatic chant of ‘Mambo’, which she turned round to conduct. The orchestra showed its versatility by playing the romantic melody at the end of the piece like a symphony orchestra performing a romantic symphony. There was another standing ovation, ending a joyful evening.

Anja Bihlmaier told Elizabeth Alker that she had performed at the first Manchester Classical festival in 2023, and that one of her hobbies was collecting t-shirts (worn by staff and volunteers) from the festival. She expressed the popular view that ‘Manchester is second only to London now’ for classical music. Many proud Mancunians – and others from outside the city – would agree.

Artists and repertoire

RNCM Symphony Orchestra: Mahler 2 ‘Resurrection’

Gustav Mahler Symphony No. 2 ‘Resurrection’

Antony Hermus conductor
Ellie Forrester soprano
Yvonne Howard mezzo-soprano
RNCM Symphony Chorus
RNCM Symphony Orchestra

Riot Ensemble: Coral Formations

Alex Paxton Shrimp BIT Babyface (UK premiere)
Kristine Tjøgersen Seafloor Dawn Chorus (UK premiere)

Riot Ensemble
Aaron Holloway-Nahum conductor

BBC Philharmonic Orchestra: Gershwin, Bernstein and Strauss

Strauss Death and Transfiguration
Gershwin Rhapsody in Blue
Bernstein Symphonic Dances from West Side Story

Anja Bihlmaier conductor
Hayato Sumino piano

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Manchester Classical 2025 Opening Night – Live Review

Friday 27 June 2025

Bridgewater Hall, Manchester

For a review of day one click here and for day two click here

Jonny Greenwood performs Reich with the Hallé

The first Manchester Classical music festival took place two years ago, in June 2023. The festival won the RPS (Royal Philharmonic Society) ‘Series and Events’ award in 2024. The panel said,

‘We all know music’s power to bring us together. This was stupendously evident as the classical organisations of this very city united for Manchester Classical. It was a marvellous weekend of the finest music-making…

Mancunians came out in force to discover and take pride in the remarkable musical forces on their doorstep.‘

This year’s festival opened with music by Steve Reich. The Hallé was conducted by Colin Currie, who curated last year’s Reich Festival. Jonny Greenwood, guitarist with Radiohead and now an Oscar and BAFTA-nominated film composer, joined to play bass guitar on Pulse. Currie told BBC Radio 3 presenter Elizabeth Alker that Greenwood is a great fan of the American composer and brings ‘great serenity’ to Reich’s music.

Greenwood has previously performed Reich’s Electric Counterpoint on guitar with the Hallé, but his bass playing was immaculate, with a lovely tone, particularly on the lower notes. The bass part occupies its own acoustic space below the other instruments – upper strings, woodwind and piano – and provides the emotional heart of the piece. His bass and the interlaced strings had a lovely interaction, with gorgeous melancholy and joyous harmonies. The serene pulsing of his line became more adventurous as the piece progressed. The audience sat in rapt attention, so quiet that when it finished, you could hear the air conditioning (essential during such a hot weekend) before the applause. Greenwood, an intensely self-effacing stage presence, gave a shy wave as he left the stage.     

Clapping Music, performed by Colin Currie (left) and David Hext
Clapping Music, performed by Colin Currie (left) and David Hext. Image © Alex Burns

The concert began with Reich’s iconic Clapping Music, deftly executed by Currie and David Hext. The subtle phasing of the four clapping hands created a mesmerising effect, and they gave each other a high five at the end. Runner, for two pianos, two vibraphones, strings and woodwind, relies on the two pianos to provide (for want of a better word) a running commentary throughout the piece, and the amplified sound slightly obscured their parts. Otherwise, though, it was an excellent performance. Currie brought out the jazzy elements and flourishes with his precise conducting. The music became quietly ecstatic, with heart-stopping key changes and a moment of profound stasis at the end. The final piece was Variations for Vibes, Piano and Strings, driven by syncopated bass lines from two pianos, with three string quartets and four vibraphones creating a unique sound world. The amplified sound was more transparent now, and the intricate lines were played with great precision. At the end, Currie held the score to his chest as if to acknowledge Reich’s mastery.

Artists and Repertoire

Steve Reich
Clapping Music
Runner
Pulse
Variations for Vibes, Piano and Strings

Colin Currie conductor
Jonny Greenwood bass guitar

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BBC Philharmonic Orchestra – Mahler Symphony No. 3 ‘The Voice of Nature’ – Live Review

John Storgårds, Jess Dandy and the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra. Photo: Chris Payne

Saturday 14 June 2025

Bridgewater Hall, Manchester

*****

John Storgårds conducts the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra in a breathtaking performance of Mahler’s Third Symphony

John Storgårds, Jess Dandy and the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra. Photo: Chris Payne
John Storgårds, Jess Dandy and the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra. Photo: Chris Payne

Having just come back from the Shostakovich Festival in Leipzig, with performances by two of the world’s most renowned orchestras – the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra and the Boston Symphony Orchestra – I was looking forward to returning to the Bridgewater Hall in Manchester for a concert by the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra by way of comparison.

The Leipzig Gewandhaus concert hall, where the Festival took place, has an internal design similar to Manchester’s magnificent Bridgewater Hall, and both feature fine acoustics – Prof. Trevor Cox of the University of Salford chose the latter as one of the best concert halls in the world. It’s gratifying to report that the BBC Philharmonic, shortlisted for Gramophone‘s Orchestra of the Year award in 2023, more than matched their illustrious rivals in a stunning performance of Mahler’s gargantuan Third Symphony on Saturday.

Interior of The Gewandhaus, Leipzig
Interior of The Gewandhaus, Leipzig. Photo: author’s own

The concert was billed as ‘the voice of nature’, but as Stephen Johnson said in his astute and informative programme note, Mahler perhaps had Nietzsche in mind when he wrote the following,

It always strikes me as strange that most people, when they speak of ‘nature’, think only of flowers, birds and woodsy smells. No-one knows the god Dionysus, the great Pan. There now! You have a sort of programme – that is, an example of how I make music. Everywhere and always it is only the voice of nature!

Mahler provided subtitles for each of the six movements, showing how they related to nature. Although he later withdrew them, they still offer a valuable guide to the symphony’s journey from the awakening of elemental nature, via communications from flowers and animals to what humankind and the angels communicate, to a vision of love and perhaps even heaven or God. The subtitles are quoted below.

Movement One Pan Awakes – Summer Marches In (Bacchic procession)

The hugely ambitious opening movement is almost as long as the combined length of the remaining five movements. On its own, it’s as long as many full-length symphonies, but anyone expecting a clear symphonic development in its structure would be confused. As Stephen Johnson points out, it ‘feels more like a fantastic kaleidoscope of wildly contrasting sounds.’

The movement began with a splendid brass opening, rich, bright, and strident, followed by passionately anguished lower strings, spiky trumpets and shimmering upper strings. Conductor John Storgårds brought out the detail of this strange but compelling music, combining precision with passion, as he did throughout this superb performance.

An ominous bass drum announced Pan, the god of the wild, rousing himself with what sounded like a Wagnerian funeral march. Offset against this was a lilting, pastoral section for woodwind and strings, with a Romantic violin solo from Leader Zoë Beyers, whose solos were all excellent.

The highlight of the movement was a series of solos from trombonist Richard Brown; at times, it was a concerto for trombone and orchestra. His playing was warm and rich, with a lovely legato and a mellow tone set against harmonically shifting, evocative lower strings.

The movement ended with the Bacchic procession, led by the god Bacchus (the Roman name for the Greek god Dionysus, god of wine and fertility). There was an explosion of joy and ecstasy, a stunning ending to the first half of the symphony. Although it was tempting to applaud, the audience sat in respectful silence.

Movement Two – What the Flowers in the Meadow Tell Me

After the tumultuous onslaught and epic length of the first movement, the second movement is a short minuet. Mahler allowed it to be performed separately before the whole symphony was premiered, with mixed feelings, ‘This modest little piece will no doubt present me to the public as the ‘sensuously’ perfumed ‘singer of nature.’ He wanted the complete symphony to show that ‘nature hides within itself everything that is frightful, great and also lovely.’

The BBC Philharmonic brought out the loveliness of this movement, with graceful, sweeping strings that created an idealised image of pastoral meadows, recalling Wordsworth’s lines from his Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood (1807).

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.

The orchestra played the movement with a precision and lightness of touch that was remarkable for such large forces. The effect was enchanting and gently uplifting.

Movement Three – What the Animals in the Forest Tell Me

The third movement is dedicated to the animals of the forest, and the wisdom they communicate. The animals are gentle, enjoying their pastoral setting, with perhaps a hint of sadness and a little jeopardy.

The movement began with a characterful clarinet solo by John Bradbury, followed by themes that scattered across the orchestra like a waterfall. The frolicking of the forest animals was interrupted by an offstage trumpet, played by Gwyn Owen, representing a post horn that seemed to evoke nostalgia for the countryside. Owen’s playing was mellow, rich and warm with a beautiful legato.

There was a heart-stopping moment of stasis when suspended strings and hymn-like brass accompanied the trumpet. It seemed we were heading for a gentle ending to the movement, but Mahler wanted to remind us of the wildness of Pan, and the brutality lurking beneath nature’s serene surface.

Movement Four – What Humanity Tells Me

The first movement, which describes the effect of humanity on the composer, aptly features a mezzo-soprano singing a text by Friedrich Nietzsche from his philosophical novel Also sprach Zarathustra (1883–85). This mysterious passage describes ‘midnight’ addressing humankind about the depth of joy and pain in the world, and the battle between the two.

Pain says cease!
Yet all joy desires eternity –
Desires deep, deep eternity.

There was luxury casting on Saturday, with the contralto Jess Dandy, who was so impressive in last April’s performance of Bach’s St John Passion, returning to the Bridgewater Hall. Her deep, warm contralto tones were ideally suited to the profound text. Time was suspended as we reflected on the ‘deep eternity’ of the text.

Jess Dandy. Photo: Clare Park

Movement Five – What the Angels Tell Me

The fifth movement takes its text Es sungen drei Engel einen süßen Gesang (Three Angels Sang a Sweet Song) from Des Knaben Wunderhorn (The Boy’s Magic Horn), the collection of folk poems that Mahler returned to so often. The children’s choir opens the movement singing ‘Bimm, bamm’ to represent bells, joined by real bells from the orchestra. The three-part women’s chorus represents the angels, later joined by the soprano soloist, singing for joy because Saint Peter has been absolved from his sin in denying Jesus.

Offstage bells. Photo: Chris Payne
Grahm Johns with offstage bells. Photo: Chris Payne

The choirs were made up of CBSO Children’s Chorus and Youth Chorus, and women of the Hallé Choir. The children, having sat quietly through over an hour of music, were well-drilled, singing without scores, and bringing lively tones to the music. The women sang mellifluously, joined by the luxurious warmth of Dandy’s contralto. The overall effect was suitably angelic and heavenly.

Movement Six – What Love Tells Me

The symphony is bookended by another long, instrumental movement. Mahler summed up its place in the symphony’s journey,

‘I could almost call this [movement] ‘What God tells me’… in the sense that God can only be understood as love. And so my work begins as a musical poem embracing all stages of musical development in a stepwise ascent. It begins with inanimate nature and ascends to the love of God.’

On Saturday, the BBC Philharmonic, under its Chief Conductor John Storgårds, beautifully illustrated the final ascent. The movement began with a quietly ecstatic string melody; Storgårds stepped back on the podium as if to luxuriate in the sound that was reminiscent of Wagener’s Parsifal. An ecstatic climax on strings and horns revealed a vision of heaven, of quiet joy lovingly created by the orchestra. There was a hymn-like sense of inevitability, with warm but precise ensemble.

The orchestra shone, shimmering with joy, as it reached another transcendent climax, with Storgårds becoming more vigorous and animated. The music fell away with a gentle string melody, until there was another climax of terrifying beauty and luminescence, similar to the moment in Edward Elgar’s Dream of Gerontius when the Soul is briefly in the ‘awful Presence of its God.’

The brass played a lovely chorale, beautifully controlled like the finest of brass bands. Storgårds danced on the podium at the final climax, with almost the whole orchestra playing the final joyful melody as we ascended into heaven; there was a moment of peace, followed by a massive concluding chord with vigorous double timpani.

John Storgårds and the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra. Photo: Chris Payne
John Storgårds and the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra. Photo: Chris Payne

Storgårds began to drop his arms slowly; the convention is that the audience waits until this gesture is complete, but the audience were having none of, bursting immediately into rapturous applause. This marked the end of an outstanding performance, proving that there is no need to leave Manchester to experience the highest quality music-making.

Programme

Gustav Mahler Symphony No. 3 in D minor

Performers

BBC Philharmonic Orchestra
John Storgårds conductor
Jess Dandy contralto
Hallé Choir
CBSO Children’s Chorus
CBSO Youth Chorus

The concert will be broadcast on BBC Radio 3 on Wednesday 2 July at 19.30, and will be available for 30 days after broadcast on BBC Sounds.

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BBC Philharmonic Orchestra – Mahler Symphony No. 9 – Live Review

Conductor Yoel Gamzou and Members of the BBC Phil

Saturday 12 April 2025

Bridgewater Hall, Manchester

*****

Mahler’s Ninth Symphony: A Life-Affirming Farewell?

Conductor Yoel Gamzou and Members of the BBC Phil
Conductor Yoel Gamzou and Members of the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra. Image © Chris Payne

In an article in The Guardian, Tom Service described the final page of Mahler’s Ninth Symphony as ‘one of the most famously death-haunted places in orchestral music’. As he pointed out, the final bar is even marked ‘esterbend’ (dying or dying away). There are other references to death scattered all over the symphony. Mahler wrote ‘Leb’ wohl’ (farewell) above a motif in the first movement in the draft score. This motif recalls ‘Der Abschied’ (The Farewell) from Das Lied von der Erde (The Song of the Earth), written around the same time as the symphony. The composer Alban Berg wrote, ‘The entire [first] movement is based on a presentiment of death’, and the symphony’s first conductor Bruno Walter wrote the word ‘farewell’ could have been written ‘at the head of the Ninth.’ The final movement quotes music from Mahler’s Kindertotenlieder (Songs on the Death of Children).

Tom Service also wrote that Leonard Bernstein, and many other conductors and listeners, saw the symphony as representing a ‘whole suite of deaths.’ This was Mahler’s last completed symphony. He was aware that Beethoven and Bruckner had died after writing their ninth symphonies, and created a superstition later called the curse of the ninth. He thought he had cheated it by renaming his true ninth symphony Das Lied von der Erde. He had also lost his four-year-old daughter Maria, who died in 1907 of scarlet fever. He had been diagnosed with an incurable heart condition in the same year, which probably led to his early death at the age of 50 in 1911. He failed to hear his Ninth Symphony, which he completed in 1910, but was not premiered until 1912. Service also refers to the death of tonality, which Mahler’s late work certainly prefigures, and also the ‘death throes of the figure of artist as hero in European culture.’

But having skilfully set up the case for the prosecution, Service comes to the symphony’s defence as a life-affirming work despite all the difficulties Mahler was suffering, or perhaps because of them. Those looking for musical clues should consider that the first movement’s sighing, falling theme that provides so much of the material of the symphony is based on a waltz by Johann Strauss, with the delightfully unambiguous title ‘Enjoy Life.’  Jo Kirkbride, in her programme note, whilst acknowledging the symphony is about death, is on the same side as Service, pointing to a letter Mahler wrote to Bruno Walter in 1909 in which he said,

 ‘I have more thirst for life than ever, and find the “habits of existence” sweeter than ever.’

The Israeli-American conductor Yoel Gamzou, who conducted the BBC Philharmonic on Saturday, is known as a Mahler specialist. He was inspired to become a conductor as a boy when he heard Mahler’s music. He studied privately with the great Italian conductor Carlo Maria Giulini, who recorded Mahler’s Ninth in 1994. In 2006, Gamzou founded his own International Mahler Orchestra. A composer as well as a conductor, in 2010, he achieved something Mahler himself never did – the completion of Mahler’s Tenth Symphony. The depth of his knowledge was revealed by his ability to draw out incredible detail from the orchestra, who played superbly for him on Saturday. His conducting was expressive, dramatic, and demonstrative, with large and passionate gestures, often pointing imperiously at individual players or sections, and moving lithely on the podium. So it was remarkable that at the end of the final movement his gestures became more and more subtle and delicate. He held the orchestra – and a rapt audience – in his hands. He very deliberately closed his score at the end, holding everyone in the hall in reverential silence for what seemed like an age.

The BBC Phil and Yoel Gamzou
The BBC Philharmonic Orchestra and conductor Yoel Gamzou. Image © Chris Payne

So what was Gamzou’s view of the symphony? In the first movement, he brought out the piece’s drama, with immense climaxes and easily drew out all the densely complex lines. There was occasional respite from the opaque strands of sound, even optimism and joy, and a lovely ending, suggesting a bucolic, gentle scene.

Mahler’s title for the second movement is very specific, ‘Im Tempo eines gemächlichen Ländlers. Etwas täppisch und sehr derb’ (In the tempo of an easy-going country waltz. Somewhat clumsy and very rough). The movement is based on the Ländler, a European folk dance of which Mahler was particularly fond. In a memorable phrase, Robert Philip described how three versions of the dance try to establish themselves simultaneously, ‘as if a drunk is assailed by conflicting images of the dancers.’ Gamzou achieved the feat of bringing out the coarseness of the music, but paradoxically with great precision. At the end of the movement, there was a fiercely dramatic, dark section of what felt like sarcastic joy, which could have come from a symphony with Shostakovich, who owed a debt to Mahler. The movement fell away in sadness, as if the folk dancers, now defeated, were disappearing from the stage.

Conductor Yoel Gamzou with members of the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra. Image © Chris Payne

The music of Shostakovich was prefigured even more obviously in the third movement, which Mahler described as a ‘Rondo-Burleske’. In case that hinted at excess jolliness, he also marked it ‘Sehr trotzig’ (Very defiant). Gamzou brought out all the sarcasm of the movement with a fiercely frenetic opening, with a theme that soon got lost in a morass of sound. He danced on the podium, recalling another conductor of the BBC Philharmonic, the great Yan Pascal Tortelier. The movement was at once life-affirming and troubling. The trumpet solo, which provides one of the musical fragments on which the final movement is based, provided a glimpse of serenity, before angular, Shostakovichian woodwinds destroyed the mood. Depending on which theory you follow, the movement could be a celebration of life’s visceral, thrilling, but unsettling nature, or a sarcastic dismissal of a life that is shortly to be left behind.

As Service wrote, an essential clue to a conductor’s interpretation is their approach to the final movement, which he wittily described as ‘cataclysmically slow.’ Mahler’s description is clear. ‘Sehr langsam und noch zurückhaltend’(Very slow and even held back). Bruno Walter’s 1938 recording lasted just over 18 minutes, whereas Bernstein stretched the movement to 30 minutes. Gamzou’s performance lasted 28 minutes, putting him firmly at the Bernstein end of things, and perhaps emphasising the movement’s valedictory nature. Equally, the movement can be seen as a hymn to life, possibly highlighted by the sometimes gut-wrenching intensity of the orchestra’s stunning playing. Even the musical quotation from Kindertotenlieder is ambiguous. The song’s words describe how, ‘Im Sonnenschein der Tag ist schön’ (In the sunlight, the day is beautiful). We could take this at face value, describing the subtle joy that life brings, or we could remember that in the original song, the words describe how the protagonist thinks that the children have merely run ahead into the sunshine during a summer walk, and that they will appear around the next corner, a terrible affirmation of the inevitability of death.

Whatever your interpretation is of the final movement – and the symphony as a whole – the playing at the end was profoundly moving. There was a lovely portamento from the strings as if they could not let go of the notes. After a gorgeous cello solo, the strings crept back in. There was a beautifully-controlled pianissimo with a never-ending melody, and one last rousing of the second violin theme before the orchestra fell into silence.

Repertoire

Gustav Mahler Symphony No. 9 in D major

Performers

BBC Philharmonic Orchestra
Yoel Gamzou Conductor

Sources

Tom Service, Symphony Guide: Mahler’s Ninth (The Guardian 29 July 2014)
Jo Kirkbride Programme Note for BBC Philharmonic Orchestra
Robert Philip, The Classical Music Lover’s Companion to Orchestral Music (Yale University Press,  Kindle Edition)

This concert will be broadcast on BBC Radio 3 at 19.30 on Tuesday 8 July and will be available for 30 days after broadcast on BBC Sounds

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BBC Philharmonic – Beethoven’s ‘Emperor’ Piano Concerto – Live Review

John Storgårds, Paul Lewis and the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra. Image Copyright Chris Payne

Saturday 22 March 2025

Bridgewater Hall, Manchester

****

A stunning performance of Beethoven’s final piano concerto by Paul Lewis, bookended by two Nordic symphonies

John Storgårds, Paul Lewis and the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra. Image Copyright Chris Payne
John Storgårds, Paul Lewis and members of the BBC Philharmonic. Image copyright Chris Payne

Last Saturday’s concert by the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra was going to feature music by three Nordic composers: the Norwegian composer Edvard Grieg, the Danish composer Per Nørgård and the Finnish composer Jean Sibelius, all conducted by the Finnish conductor John Storgårds. In the event, Grieg’s Piano Concerto in A Minor was replaced by Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 5 in E-flat major, Op. 73, also known as the ‘Emperor’.

The concert began with Symphony No. 8 by the Danish composer Per Nørgård. It was commissioned by the Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra and is dedicated to the Orchestra and to conductor John Storgårds. Another post on this Blog, a review of the Bass Communion album, Ghosts on Magnetic Tape, addresses what constitutes music. The symphony presented a similar challenge, which could defeat listeners hearing it for the first time, offering music that appears tonal but often slips away from the listener’s grasp. In his very helpful programme note, Stephen Johnson addressed this issue,

‘The profusion of sounds, all vying for attention, may seem bewildering. So too might the music’s tendency to invoke traditional tonal harmonies, then immediately throw them out of focus.’

Johnson also drew an astute connection with the symphonic works of Sibelius, which the composer described as flowing ‘like a river.’  Nørgård’s symphony has a constant flow of glittering themes, repeatedly fractured but driven by an inner momentum. Armed with this knowledge, rather than searching for conventional development of symphonic themes, the listener can make sense of the piece and enjoy a fascinating journey.

It helped that the BBC Philharmonic’s performance, conducted by the symphony’s dedicatee, John Storgårds, with ferocious concentration, was crystalline and magical, an invigorating investigation into orchestral timbre. The first movement began mysteriously, like a wood at night. Rasping brass led to Bernard Herrmann-like strings that shimmered with an evil glint. An endless piano tune was passed around the orchestra, including percussion. Storgårds stepped back in a ‘senza misura’ section, a free section without a regular beat, which felt like the chiming of demented clocks. A solo violin reverberated like a siren, and the music unravelled itself, bringing the movement to an uneasy end.

Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood.

T.S. Eliot

The second movement felt as if it had been written in a fever dream, like film music where the page had been smudged. Nervous strings and strident brass headed towards an apotheosis but collapsed and fell away. There was a mass of sound, a dense adagio with filigree decoration. A slow theme was picked out by the strings but undermined by restless percussion, before a brief and uncertain resolution. The final movement began with the arid sound of the rim of a side drum being struck, and sarcastic military brass. The playing throughout was virtuosic, as rising themes that never resolved appeared from a turbulent miasma of sound. Yet, there were occasional moments of glittering joy and clarity. The strangely rhapsodic ending brought a moment of stasis with an unsettling cello solo. The performance brought to mind T.S. Eliot’s phrase, ‘genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood’ – Nørgård’s symphony had the same effect.

John Storgårds, Paul Lewis and the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra. Image Copyright Chris Payne
Paul Lewis, John Storgårds and members of the BBC Philharmonic. Image copyright Chris Payne

Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 5 brought no such epistemological agonies; it’s well enough known that the interest for the listener lies in the performance rather than trying to unravel the mysteries of the music itself. In his programme note, Barry Cooper referred to the concerto’s nickname, the ‘Emperor’, which describes the ‘grand, majestic character’ of the piece. The piano soloist, Paul Lewis, opened the first movement, following the initial orchestral chords, playing with mesmerising poise and grace, at a faster pace than some interpretations. While Lewis waited patiently, the orchestra played resolutely, fiercely rhythmic, then dancing elegantly. He picked up the theme with a shimmering upward piano run, decorating the theme, then providing a romantic variation. A more robust passage gave way to a stunning syncopated section with gentle rubato. The precision of Lewis’ left hand was revealed in a descending theme, with a bell-like, ringing touch in the right hand. An exuberant symphonic section was decorated by sparkling piano – a moment of lucid joy. The movement concluded with a virtuosic cadenza from Lewis, his hands chasing each other across the keyboard, producing a twinkling sound reminiscent of a glass harmonica.

The second and third movements merged to form a section that was as long as the entire first movement. Some audience members jumped as the piano suddenly transitioned from one movement to the next without warning. Again, the highlight was Lewis’ playing, ably supported by the orchestra, who began the second movement in contemplative mood, with deeply resonating basses and stunning ensemble. Lewis matched their tender playing with rapt contemplation, picking out each note with beautiful evenness. There was a heart-stopping extended section in which Lewis was accompanied by the woodwind. There were times when his playing exhibited a Mozartian lightness, as well as a Beethovenian robustness. Lewis made this colossus of a piece light and delicate, shot through with subtle joy. He was justly celebrated at the end with rapturous applause and ecstatic shouts.

The second half of the concert featured the second Nordic symphony of the evening, Sibelius’s third. An oft-quoted conversation between Sibelius and another great symphonist, Gustav Mahler, ended with the latter saying that the symphony should be like the world, ‘It must embrace everything.’ As Katy Hamilton pointed out in her programme note, it’s less often remembered that Mahler’s comment was in reply to Sibelius’ comment, made just after he completed his Third Symphony, that a symphony should be marked by its ‘severity of style and the profound logic that created an inner connection between all the motifs.’

Despite Sibelius’ avowed debt to the formal traditions of previous symphonists such as Mozart, Haydn and Mozart, the symphony demonstrates, according to Robert Philip, that,

Sibelius’s harmonic language is becoming more wayward, and his characteristic fragmentation of ideas makes large swathes of the symphony elusive until you get to know it – and even then, you have to accept that elusiveness is part of the point.

The symphony began with a robust bass tune, followed by a folky melody in the woodwinds, accompanied by swirling strings; we were immediately immersed in Sibelius’ distinctive sound world, rather than the sound of the earlier symphonists, although as Robert Philip points out the use of folk music is a feature of Mahler’s symphonies. Storgårds beautifully controlled the spiralling momentum of the opening. A moment of chromatic unease, marked by scurrying flutes, gave way to a surprising break in momentum. The orchestra played with a warm, generous sound as Storgårds urged them on to a climax. The folk tune returned, then the music dissolved into ambiguity. There was rich brass and perfect ensemble in the strings. The movement ended with its final noble statements and a pleasing plagal (‘amen’) cadence.

John Storgårds and the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra. Image Copyright Chris Payne
John Storgårds and members of the BBC Philharmonic Image copyright Chris Payne

The second movement began with an open fifth on the horns, then a stately, lilting dance on woodwind, beautifully played with lovely poise. One of the themes was an intriguing pre-echo of the vocal section in the second movement of Jon Lord’s Concerto for Group and Orchestra (1969). A majestically sorrowful melody from the cellos was followed by playful pizzicato, passing through different keys and gradually broadening out into the earlier theme. The third movement passed from a scherzo-like opening to a grand finale. Again, there were pre-echoes of later Sibelius, and a hymn-like tune emerged that was strongly reminiscent of the melody from Finlandia (1899), which later became the Finlandia Hymn, an important anthem in Storgårds’ native country. At the end of the piece, there was lengthy applause, and Storgårds went into the orchestra to thank individual sections, including the double basses, who were slightly out of reach. Returning to the front of the stage, he bowed to thank the audience, his hand on his heart, as if to acknowledge the emotional impact that the symphony had on him.

Repertoire
Per Nørgård Symphony No. 8
Ludwig van Beethoven Piano Concerto No.5, ‘Emperor’
Jean Sibelius Symphony No 3 in C major

Performers
BBC Philharmonic Orchestra
John Storgårds conductor
Paul Lewis piano

Sources
BBC Philharmonic Orchestra Programme Notes
T.S. Eliot, Dante (Faber, 1929)
Robert Philip, The Classical Music Lover’s Companion to Orchestral Music (Yale University Press,  Kindle Edition)

The concert will be broadcast on BBC Radio 3 on Tuesday 1 April at 19.30 and will be available on BBC Sounds for 30 days after that.

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BBC Philharmonic – Pictures at an Exhibition – Live Review

The BBC Philharmonic with Ludovic Morlot © Chris Payne.

Saturday 22 February 2025

Bridgewater Hall, Manchester

*****

A celebration of Ravel at 150 and Boulez at 100; orchestration at its most colourful and imaginative

The BBC Philharmonic with Ludovic Morlot © Chris Payne.
The BBC Philharmonic with Ludovic Morlot © Chris Payne.

Saturday’s concert by the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra at the Bridgewater Hall in Manchester was a triple celebration: of the birthdays of two great French masters, Maurice Ravel (born 150 years ago in March 1875) and Pierre Boulez (born 100 years ago in March 1925); of the piano as a solo instrument in Ravel’s Piano Concerto for the Left Hand; and of piano pieces as the foundation of much larger works for orchestra.

Pianist Paul Wittengenstein
Paul Wittgenstein © Bernard Fleischer Moving Images. Source: Wikimedia Commons

Apart from the mighty organ, often referred to as the ‘King of Instruments’ – an orchestra in itself – the piano has the broadest range of timbre and dynamics and is the most versatile of any classical instrument. On Saturday, this was demonstrated by the French pianist Bertrand Chamayou in the Ravel piano concerto. Written for the French pianist Paul Wittgenstein, who lost his right arm during WWI, it was heroically played by Chamayou, who rested his right hand above the piano while his left hand did its incredible work. Ravel’s intention, in his own words, was to ensure that,

‘In a work of this kind, it is essential to give the impression of a texture no thinner than that of a part written for both hands.’

It was fascinating to watch Chamayou play with only one hand. From our seats, his back often shielded his left hand, but it was possible to see the reflection of his hand in the highly polished piano as it scurried up and down the keyboard, performing astonishing acrobatics. In his main cadenza in the third section of this single-movement concerto, he picked out melodies over growling, angry bass with lovely control and virtuosic chromatic playing as a hopeful theme gradually appeared out of the miasma of fretful darkness. The orchestra played its part, too, opening with a dark theme on the low basses and contrabassoon. The theme passed across the orchestra and reached an incredible climax with glowing but anxious chords before the piano came crashing in from the depths of its range. In the central Allegro section, there were some jazzy rhythms and echoes of the rhythmic intensity of Ravel’s Boléro, which was written around the same time. There was also some invigoratingly sarcastic interplay between piano and orchestra, like Shostakovich at his most cynical. The orchestra finally dared to join Chamayou after his cadenza, having the last word as it hurtled to a startlingly abrupt conclusion.

The BBC Philharmonic with Ludovic Morlot and pianist Bertrand Chamayou © Chris Payne.
Pianist Bertrand Chamayou with the BBC Philharmonic and Ludovic Morlot © Chris Payne.

In response to well-deserved applause, Chamayou returned to announce his encore of an ‘unknown piece’, his setting of a choral piece by Ravel, Trois Beaux Oiseaux du Paradis (Three Beautiful Birds of Paradise). A simple, meditative piece for two hands, it made a lovely contrast with the rigours of the concerto.

Pierre Boulez, who died almost a decade ago, enjoyed being the enfant terrible of the classical music establishment. As Saturday’s conductor, Ludovic Morlot, told the audience, it’s amazing to see how much classical music had changed in the 50 years between the two composers. Boulez once mischievously announced that opera houses were unsuitable for modern opera, so the best solution would be to blow them up. He said that to move on as a composer, he felt he had metaphorically to ‘kill his father’ by rejecting the tenets of his teacher Olivier Messiaen. When he was only twenty, Boulez’s piano miniatures, 12 Notations for Piano, were performed by Yvette Grimaud. He forgot about them but was reminded of them over 30 years later when the French composer Serge Nigg, also a pupil of Messiaen, asked if he could perform them. Boulez decided to turn four of the pieces into works for a vast orchestra, so big that on Saturday, the stage at the Bridgewater Hall had to be extended to accommodate all the musicians. There were so many percussionists – nine in all – that they occupied every nook and cranny of a packed stage. The original piano pieces were tiny, only 12 bars long. Boulez expanded both the orchestra and the length of the pieces to become new works rather than mere orchestrations. Played in the order Boulez requested (1,4,3,2), the four pieces were explorations of orchestral colour on the grandest scale, superbly played by the expanded orchestra. There were great slabs of sound, boisterous percussion, glittering colours, incredible climaxes, and terrifyingly dense yet powerfully rhythmic and repeated structures.

The German composer and conductor Matthias Pintscher wrote,

Every time I listen to, study or conduct Boulez’s Notations, I immediately think of the other grand master of French sonic architecture: Maurice Ravel. The aesthetic proximity between Boulez and Ravel is palpable. A glance at a single detail in one of the scores by Boulez (or Ravel) explains the ‘totality’, the aura and the form of the large-scale work. This, to me, seems essentially ‘French’ – this sharpened awareness of the detail that fits into the whole architecture of the work logically as well as poetically. 

Ravel’s Mother Goose (Ma Mère l’Oye) was also written as a piano suite, in this case five pieces for four hands. It’s most often performed now as an orchestral suite of five pieces, but after the Boulez Notations, conductor Ludovic Morlot turned to the audience and announced that as a special treat, the orchestra would play the complete ballet, which is ‘about six minutes longer.’ This was a pleasant surprise to the audience, although presumably not to the orchestra. The extra material consists of a Prélude, and linking passages to create one continuous movement, and an additional tableau at the start, Danse du Rouet (Dance of the Spinning Wheel). Ravel’s Suite is a series of largely unconnected fairy tales. Ravel makes the ballet a continuous narrative, the story of Sleeping Beauty. The final movement, Le Jardin Féerique (Fairy Garden), turns into an ‘apotheosis’ scene in which the prince awakens her. The fairy tales from the central movements of the Suite take place in her dreams.

The BBC Philharmonic with Ludovic Morlot © Chris Payne.
The BBC Philharmonic with Ludovic Morlot © Chris Payne.

The ballet allowed the orchestra to demonstrate the full range of its tonal palette and dynamic sensitivity. Ludovic Morlot is a relatively undemonstrative conductor, as he showed in his firm and committed handling of Messiaen’s epic From the Canyons to the Stars late last year. His attention to detail is extraordinary – as Pintscher suggests, the smallest detail reveals the form of the work as a whole. Forces from within the orchestra, particularly the woodwind, played perfectly together like the best of chamber ensembles. There were some characterful solos, bringing colour to the vivid fairy tales, including from John Bradbury (clarinet), Simon Davies (contrabassoon) and Zoe Beyers, the leader of the orchestra.

The cover of Pictures at an Exhibition by Mekong Delta
The cover of Pictures at an Exhibition by Mekong Delta. Source: bandcamp

The concert ended with another piano suite that became an orchestral piece, Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition. There have been several arrangements or reworkings of the suite, which Mussorgsky wrote in 1874. It lends itself to adaptation very well, as it’s based on a series of vivid and imaginative pictures by the composer’s friend, the artist Viktor Hartmann, who died in 1873. There have been several orchestral versions, including the Ravel version which is the most often performed. There have also been some successful rock versions, including by the German thrash metal band Mekong Delta and a whimsical version by the Japanese composer and electronic music pioneer Isao Tomita. Perhaps the best non-classical version is by the English progressive rock band Emerson Lake and Palmer, which contains one of the best characterisations of The Gnome.

The Philharmonic’s performance of The Gnome was thrillingly fast and fierce, with a flurry of sound played with perfect ensemble; the creature could be heard scurrying away at the end. The opening Promenade featured the brass section playing like the finest brass bands with a lovely, sweet-toned horn. In The Old Castle, alto saxophonist Carl Raven played a mellow solo with lovely legato while the strings and woodwind brought a warmly nostalgic feel – another testament not just to the orchestral playing but the variety and subtlety of Ravel’s skill as an orchestrator. The lumbering ox cart of Bydlo drew a lovely tuba solo from Christopher Evans, creating a very vivid picture of the ‘effortful Russian work song represented by the famous Song of the Volga Boatmen’ as Robert Philip points out. Another highlight was the Ballet of the Unhatched Chicks, which had stunning woodwind, jolly strings, and a witty turn at the end. The final movement, The Great Gate of Kiev, was the perfect climax to an outstanding performance.

Repertoire

Pierre Boulez Notations 1–4 (orchestral version)
Maurice Ravel Mother Goose – complete ballet
Maurice Ravel Piano Concerto for the Left Hand
Modest Mussorgsky, orch. Maurice Ravel Pictures at an Exhibition

Performers

Ludovic Morlot conductor
BBC Philharmonic Orchestra
Bertrand Chamayou piano

Sources

Robert Philip, The Classical Music Lover’s Companion to Orchestral Music (Yale University Press, 2020)
Matthias Pintscher, Boulez – Notations I-IV for orchestra: Work Introduction (Universal Edition)
Programme notes by the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra

This concert will be broadcast on BBC Radio 3’s In Concert on Wednesday 12 March at 7.30pm. It will be available for 30 days after broadcast via BBC Sounds.