BBC Philharmonic – John Adams, Beethoven and Ives – Live Review

Saturday 17 January 2026

Bridgewater Hall, Manchester

****

A serene Beethoven piano and two unresolved American orchestral classics from Ives and Adams

Alim Beisembayev (at the piano), John Storgårds and the BBC Philharmonic. Image credit Chris Payne.

Saturday evening’s concert by the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra, under their Chief Conductor, John Storgårds, featured two pieces by American composers Charles Ives and John Adams, written a century apart in the early 20th and 21st centuries. They book-ended a piece by Beethoven written in the early part of the 19th century, with the gap between the three works almost exactly 100 years (1805-6; 1908; 2009), providing neat symmetry.

The concert began with The Unanswered Question (1908) by Charles Ives, which he described as a ‘cosmic landscape.’ The piece consists of three layers, beautifully controlled by Storgårds: the opening strings, spellbindingly quiet, representing ‘the Druids Who Know See and Hear Nothing’; a solo trumpet (played here by Tom Fountain) that poses the ‘Perennial Question of Existence’; and a flute quartet that attempts to provide ‘The Invisible Answer.’ The piece ends with the ‘Undisturbed Solitude’ of the Druids, as the Question remains unanswered.

The Unanswered Question by Charles Ives, adapted by Japanese synth pioneer Isao Tomita, from his 1977 album Kosmos

Storgårds barely moved as the bows of the strings seemed suspended in slow motion. The solo trumpeter, Tom Fountain, was almost hidden near the Bridgewater Hall’s organ. The plaintive sound of the trumpet was answered by increasingly discordant flutes, playing a distorted version of the trumpet theme. On a signal from Storgårds, one of the flute quartet conducted her colleagues; one of the remarkable aspects of this piece is that the three groups play in independent tempi. This might have been a spellbinding performance, but unfortunately, our concentration was disrupted by a fourth (unwanted) layer, noisy coughing from the audience.

Alim Beisembayev. Source: alimbeisembayev.co.uk

Like the Ives piece, Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 4 in G Major (1805-6) also poses a question. It begins with a gentle question from the piano, which the orchestra answers quietly, repeating the piano’s opening theme. But as in the Ives, the answer isn’t quite what we expect: the piano opens in the home key of G major, and the orchestra’s response is in the unrelated key of B major. Nevertheless, the relationship between soloist and orchestra is harmonious. There’s no pitched battle here, as there often is between orchestra and soloist in a concerto. The work is frequently characterised by Mozartian calm rather than Beethovenian muscularity and ferocity. It has a valedictory quality, as if marking the fact that this was the last piano concerto the composer could perform in concert due to his increasing deafness.

The soloist on Saturday was Alim Beisembayev, born in Kazakhstan, who won First Prize at The Leeds International Piano Competition in 2021. He joined the BBC New Generation Artists in 2023, and this was his first concert with them as a graduate of the scheme.

Early in the first movement, a placid, running theme on the upper strings was paired with precisely plucked lower strings, which were very clear in the Bridgewater Hall’s superb acoustic. Glorious, sunny orchestral flowering was similar to the calmer Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony written a couple of years later. There was a brief moment of doubt in the lower strings, but this soon resolved as the orchestra repeated the opening theme. Beisembayev replied with filigree decoration, beautifully even, playing with a lovely touch. He entered a mellow dialogue with the orchestra as they passed through a chromatic palette of keys. In the cadenza, he was mesmerising to watch, playing with more passion and emotion than earlier, then with gorgeous, limpid simplicity.

The second movement of the concerto is unusual in that it is more robust than many. Beisembayev began with a perfectly measured performance of the nostalgic opening theme, but there followed a fretful passage, still beautifully controlled. A forlorn, almost apologetic orchestral theme suggested Beethoven’s sorrow at being forced to abandon performing live. In the final movement, which began without a break, the orchestra and soloist entered into a more relaxed, joyful dialogue. Beisembayev held up the orchestra in a moment of stasis while he performed piano pyrotechnics. They joyfully chased each other through the keys. Beisembayev hurried towards a cadenza-like section, then suddenly stopped and restarted – there was light at the end of the metaphorical tunnel. We had reached the sunlit uplands; the ending was ecstatic.


Scarlatti’s Sonata in G Major, Kk. 13, L. 486, from Beisembayev’s 2021 album The Leeds International Piano Competition 2021 – Gold Medal Winner (Parlophone)

Beisembayev’s encore was Scarlatti’s Sonata in G Major, Kk. 13. He played this complex music with great speed and accuracy, bringing out the individual melodic lines superbly, drawing warm applause from the audience

John Adams’ City Noir was named by the late Andrew Clements of The Guardian in 2019 as one of the best classical music works of the 21st Century. Adams was inspired to write the piece by reading the multi-volume Americans and the California Dream by the American historian Kevin Starr. In particular, he was inspired by the volume Embattled Dreams: California in War and Peace, 1940-1950, which describes the case of the gruesome murder of Elizabeth Short, who became known after her death as Black Dahlia. The story goes that she moved to Los Angeles to become an actress, and she may have been called Black Dahlia after the 1946 film noir The Blue Dahlia. Adams was inspired by the ‘sensational journalism’ of 1940s and 50s California, and the ‘dark, eerie chiaroscuro of the Hollywood films’ of that era to write music for an imaginary film noir. He was also inspired to write ‘jazz-inflected symphonic music’, drawing on models such as Darius Milhaud’s La Création du monde written in 1922 – 23 and Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue written a year later.

John Storgårds and the BBC Philharmonic. Image credit Chris Payne.

The first movement, ‘The City and its Double’, threw us immediately into the cinematic landscape with full orchestra, uncompromisingly dark, with serpentine themes snaking back on themselves. The work’s jazz credentials were immediately obvious, with drummer Ben Gray providing insistent rhythms. The alto sax soloist Carl Raven was superb throughout the whole piece. The movement depicts a boulevard at night, deserted but with an ominous atmosphere, punctuated by moments of terror. The movement had a late-night feel, with a shimmer suggesting the silver screen. There was bright, cinematic music, troubling and virtuosic, creating a glorious cacophony of joy. Adams is a master of orchestral colours and layers, and Storgårds brought out all the detail of this dense score from the vast orchestra.

From out of the chaos arose the alto sax melody of the second movement, ‘The Song is for You’, fluidly played by Carl Raven. In the middle of the intricate orchestral texture, it was a visceral shock to hear a single held note in the violins, before the texture thickened again. There were further solos: Richard Brown played the trombone idiomatically in the style of the ‘talking solo’ performed by Duke Ellington’s band members Lawrence Brown and Britt Woodman, as the orchestra growled beneath; Carl Raven returned with a short riff, entering into frenzied dialogue with the orchestra, contrasting with the tranquil discussions of orchestra and soloist in the Beethoven piano concerto; Steven Burnard brought a lovely warm tone to a brief viola solo.

John Storgårds and the BBC Philharmonic. Image credit Chris Payne.

The third movement began with sultry woodwind, perfectly depicting a ‘Boulevard Night’, ; in the words of the composer, ‘peopled with strange characters.’ We could feel the heat described in harmonic changes. Trumpeter Tom Fountain, the soloist in the Ives, returned with an increasingly virtuosic solo. Furiously rhythmic chords used the whole orchestra as a percussion instrument, recalling Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring, as far away from the elegant control of the Beethoven piece as possible. Raven returned with a sensuous solo, described by Adams as ‘brash and uncouth, perfectly characterised. Febrile jazz drumming from Ben Gray, duetting with percussionist Tim Williams, created joyful syncopations which were amazing to watch, bringing the stunning performance of a difficult piece to an end.

Programme

Charles Ives The Unanswered Question
Ludwig van Beethoven Piano Concerto No. 4
John Adams City Noir

Performers

BBC Philharmonic Orchestra
Alim Beisembayev piano
John Storgårds conductor

Source

Programme Note on City Noir by John Adams at earbox.com

The concert was recorded for broadcast on BBC Radio 3 on 27 January. It will be available for 30 days after broadcast via BBC Sounds.

More by the BBC Philharmonic…

More music by John Adams in Manchester…

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

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,

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).

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.

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,

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.

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.

BBC Philharmonic Orchestra – The Firebird – Live Review

Senja Rummukainen and John Storgårds

Saturday 25 January 2025

Bridgewater Hall, Manchester

****
Senja Rummukainen shines in Elgar’s Cello Concerto; fiery Stravinsky – and Shostakovich in a Modernist Mood

Senja Rummukainen and John Storgårds with the BBC Philharmonic. Image © Chris Payne
Senja Rummukainen and John Storgårds with the BBC Philharmonic. Image © Chris Payne

In the first half of Saturday evening’s concert, we were in ‘England’s green and pleasant land’, a phrase coined by poet William Blake and made famous by Hubert Parry in Jerusalem, which he wrote in 1916 during WWI. The two featured English works had strong links to WWI, although neither was directly inspired by the war.

George Butterworth wrote his orchestral rhapsody A Shropshire Lad in 1911 as an epilogue to his song cycle for voice and piano, A Shropshire Lad. His aim was ‘to express the home thoughts of the exiled Lad’, the protagonist of the poems written by AE Housman in 1896. Housman’s poems are preoccupied with early death in war and so became particularly poignant and relevant during WWI. Tragically, Butterworth was killed in action on the Somme in 1916.

Edward Elgar wrote his Cello Concerto, his last major work, just after WWI. In his own catalogue of his works, he wrote ‘Finis. RIP.’ to mark the end of his composing career. A few months after the premiere, his wife Alice sadly died and with her his inspiration to write music, even though he survived her for 14 years.

Although not explicitly written in response to WWI, the concerto is perfused with melancholy and nostalgia. As the cellist Steven Isserlis wrote:

The concerto is a poem of regret, a searching elegy to the whole world—both inner and outer—that had been swept away by the horrors of the Great War. 

Steven Isserlis (Hyperion Records)

Butterworth’s orchestral lament for loss is primarily based on a theme from Housman’s poem Loveliest of Trees, which was voted one of the nation’s 100 favourite poems in a BBC poll. It has been set to music over 60 times. The poem isn’t about war – the protagonist is 20 years old and anticipates living another 50 years to make up his ‘threescore years and ten’ (the Biblical lifespan of 70 years). The message is that the cherry blossom should be enjoyed while you can, in case life is cut short: carpe diem. The piece ends with a brief instrumental quotation from another of Housman’s Shropshire Lad poems – from the Bredon Hill and Other Songs cycle – With Rue my Heart is Laden, This laments the loss of ‘golden friends I had’. The poem makes it clear later that the friends have died, although again not in war,

By brooks too broad for leaping
The lightfoot boys are laid;
The rose-lipt girls are sleeping
 In fields where roses fade.

On Saturday evening, Butterworth’s piece began with a moment of stasis, long held notes in the lower strings, and a conversation between the woodwind and violas. John Bradbury on clarinet provided the opening statement of the ‘cherry’ theme, which was then passed around the orchestra. One of the joys of this arrangement is hearing the theme of the original theme repeated with varied harmonies and orchestration, sometimes sounding like Debussy, and elsewhere like Vaughan Williams. When the strings took up the theme it repeated itself with romantic sweeps, glowing like a film score.

The moving final section spread the theme across various solo instruments, with solo instruments – violin, viola and clarinet, spellbinding violas, and a glistening orchestral swell. The final, brief flute solo was on the words ‘With rue my heart is laden’. Conductor John Storgårds left a long silence at the end while we contemplated the loss of Housman’s golden friends.

The soloist in Elgar’s Cello Concerto was the young cellist Senja Rummukainen. She first came to public attention in her home country of Finland when she won the Turku Cello Competition ten years ago. She was then a finalist in the International Tchaikovsky Competition.

Many audience members would have been familiar with the Cello Concerto through the famous recording made sixty years ago by Jacqueline Du Pré with the London Symphony Orchestra under Sir John Barbirolli. Sarah Kirkup wrote in Gramophone,

Everyone who saw du Pré play was caught up in the passion she conveyed, even though her wild physical movements were not to everyone’s taste. Perhaps English critics at the time weren’t used to such overt displays of emotion.

From the opening bars, it was evident that Rummukainen’s approach would differ from Du Pré’s. This was an inward, contemplative, quietly intense but equally passionate reading, slower than some other performances, darkly melancholic – expressing the piece, in the words of cellist Steven Isserlis as a ‘poem of regret.’ Isserlis’ description of the poem of the opening as a ‘bold flourish’ and ‘heroic’ didn’t apply here. The introspective cello line was soon joined by meditative woodwind and pensive strings.

Throughout the concerto, Rummukainen quietly dominated the orchestra with a golden thread that cut through orchestral textures. She gave the concerto a valedictory, nostalgic feel, sometimes sounding like a lone voice crying out. Even when the orchestra was let off the leash, it felt stately rather than bombastic. She played with a lovely legato, a continuous line like the best singers. Her pianissimos were spellbinding , profoundly moving, inviting the audience to hold their breath with her.

That’s not to say that her performance was all dark. Her pizzicato playing was whimsical and subtle. At one point, her quicksilver playing, beautifully articulated, was playful, almost jolly. Later, she joined a dance with the orchestra, finally allowing herself to let go a little. Towards the end, she played faster than it’s often performed usual, and conductor John Storgårds brought out the richness of Elgar’s orchestration, with majestic lower strings and rasping brass. This was a stunning interpretation.

Senja Rummukainen and John Storgårds Image © Chris Payne

Rummukainen, who seemed genuinely pleased to be taking part, returned to the stage to play an encore, a Theme and Variations for solo cello by her compatriot Jean Sibelius. The combination of melancholy and lively music perfectly matched the tone of the Elgar. Rummukainen was virtuosic but not showy, exhibiting the full range of techniques with double-stopping, pizzicato and harmonics, drawing the listener in with a gorgeous tone. She is an exceptional talent.


The second half took us to the dying embers of the Russian Empire and the establishment of the Soviet Union. At the same time as Butterworth was writing his celebration of Englishness, Stravinsky drew on music by Rimsky-Korsakov and Russian folktales to create The Firebird for the 1910-11 season of Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes. Ironically, considering that the work has become standard repertoire, Stravinsky was the fourth choice of composer after Alexander Tcherepnin, Anatoly Lyadov and Alexander Glazunov had all been approached.

Stravinsky was praised at the time for the nationalist flavour of his music. One critic said he was the only composer ‘who has achieved more than mere attempts to promote Russia’s true musical spirit and style.’ The composer Sergey Rachmaninov is reported to have said, ‘Great God! What a work of genius this is! This is true Russia!’ Stravinsky left Russia at the start of WWI, and the October Revolution in 1917 left him unable to return to his homeland.

The effect of the October Revolution on Shostakovich was very different. He was only 11 years old in 1917. In 1927, he was commissioned by the Propaganda Department of the State Music Publishing House in the Soviet Union to write a piece celebrating the 10th anniversary of the Revolution, including a choral finale called Dedication to October with words by the ‘proletarian’ poet Alexander Bezymensky, an enthusiastic member of the Bolshevik party.

Lenin addresses a crowd during the 1917 revolution
Lenin speaks to the public during the 1917 revolution. Source: Wikimedia Commons

Although Shostakovich embraced this opportunity to write a work which would become his Second Symphony, in private he agonised over the words, which were a hymn of praise for Lenin, ‘Oh, Lenin! You forged freedom through suffering/You forged freedom from our toil-hardened hands.’ He wrote that the text was ‘repulsive’ and reportedly told the musicologist Boleslav Yavorsky, ‘I’m composing with great difficulty. The Words!!!’ The musicologist Solomon Volkov wrote of the choral section in his 2004 book on the composer, ‘One is tempted simply to cut it off with a pair of scissors.’

The conductor Vasily Petrenko, in his sleeve notes for his complete recording of the Shostakovich symphonies on Naxos with the RLPO wrote,

The second symphony, while not a great work, is for me a genuine, brave response to a commission. He’s showing that he’s learned to write for a larger orchestra and for chorus.

With all the above in mind, it was a relief that the BBC Philharmonic played the symphony so well, convincing sceptics that this is indeed a symphony worth hearing. Petrenko described the first, instrumental, section of the work as, ‘a crazy laboratory of the grotesque in music’, and the orchestra perfectly brought out the avant-garde, modernist nature of the score, which in parts sounded as if it was written yesterday.

The piece began with what sounded like a representation of chaos, mysterious and intense like the Elgar but in a very different way; the Biblical phrase ‘darkness on the face of the deep’ came to mind. After an evocative brass theme, the piece sank into chaos again before a stunning climax and a sudden, unexpected major chord. A robustly romantic violin solo, and woodwind solos, over a low drone, presaged the composer’s later style. The orchestra played with vigorous passion and precision, reaching a phantasmagoric climax, driven by a wild side drum. There was a brief threat of Mahlerian glory (the Phil performed Shostakovich’s Mahler-influenced Fourth Symphony at the Proms last July). But then the music unravelled itself with a jazzy clarinet solo and a spiky tune like the later Shostakovich.

The Second Symphony was written nearly ten years before Stalin’s famous denunciation of Shostakovich’s opera Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District. After this, the composer spent the rest of his life worrying about persecution. In his 2016 novel, The Noise of Time, Julian Barnes memorably describes the composer standing by the lift in his apartment block, bag packed, waiting to be taken away. But the young Shostakovich obviously thought he could get away with writing avant-garde music (Muddle Instead of Music) as long as he satisfied the Party faithful. Conveniently, he included a noisy siren to announce the choral section and wake Party officials in time for the best bit.

John Storgårds conducting the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra and the CBSO Chorus. Image © Chris Payne
The BBC Philharmonic and the City of Birmingham Symphony Chorus conducted by John Storgårds. Image © Chris Payne

The CBSO Chorus, who had travelled all the way from Birmingham for six minutes of glory, made the most of it. Their superb delivery of the choral section was passionate, fervent, committed and utterly convincing. Lenin and his officials would have been very pleased. The choir sang ecstatically, clearly enjoying themselves, so excited that (as the score demands) they were shouting joyfully at the end. It was a stunning performance, which drew well-deserved enthusiastic applause.

Shostakovich’s Second Symphony has only been performed once in the BBC Proms. In contrast, The Firebird has been performed nearly 70 times at the Proms. Stravinsky wrote three different suites of music from his original ballet The Firebird, published in 1910, 1919 and 1945. The BBC Philharmonic played the 1945 version on Saturday. In 1945 Stravinsky substantially reorchestrated the suite and re-ordered it to allow him to renew the copyright in the US. He sold the rights to the Leeds Music Corporation. He ended up suing them for allegedly producing a jukebox arrangement of one of the dance pieces from the work and stating that the arrangement was Stravinsky’s. A former law student, the composer lost his case for $250,000 in damages.

The 1945 version is less often performed than the 1910 and 1919 suites, so it was fascinating to hear it on Saturday. It’s less lush than the original ballet, and conductor John Storgårds superbly brought out all the details in the 1945 score. It felt more like a tone poem than a ballet, with at times a chamber orchestra clarity. It began with low basses, like the Shostakovich, mysterious but clear, the distinctive theme played with great assurance, beautifully paced.

The ensemble in the strings was stunning, lively, and playful when needed. The orchestra played romantically, casting back to the style of Rimsky-Korsakov when required, but also at times with a spikiness that looked forward to Petrushka, performed by the BBC Philharmonic earlier this season. The woodwind section was superb throughout.

After a very short break, there was an explosion of percussion and brass, like a section from The Rite of Spring, delivered with stunning precision. Passionate swirling strings and virtuosic playing from Paul Patrick on glockenspiel (one of the soloists in Des canyons auétoiles in December) brought a visceral thrill. Suddenly, a mysterious vista opened, a moment of revelation, leading to a sense of inevitability in the music, with a gorgeous bassoon theme and shimmering strings. The horn solo, by the excellent Rebecca Levis, led to a tremendous climax as the music built inexorably with an incredible crescendo. The performance ended with a series of precise, almost clipped chords, followed by huge applause.

One of the joys of hearing the BBC Philharmonic live at present is the quality of the individual musicianship within the sections, particularly the woodwind, and the audience reacted with delight as John Storgårds brought them to their feet. There was a lovely moment when percussionist Geraint Daniel, retiring after a career lasting over 40 years, was given a large bunch of flowers to celebrate his final Bridgewater Hall concert with the orchestra.

Programme

George Butterworth Rhapsody: A Shropshire Lad
Edward Elgar Cello Concerto in E minor
Dmitry Shostakovich Symphony No 2 in B major ‘To October’
Igor Stravinsky The Firebird – suite (1945 version)

Performers

BBC Philharmonic
John Storgårds conductor
Senja Rummukainen cello
City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra Chorus

Sources

Isserlis, Steven Cello Notes to his recording of Elgar’s Concerto in E minor, Op 85 (Hyperion Records 2016)
Kirkup, Sarah, Jacqueline du Pré and Elgar’s Cello Concerto (Gramophone 25 May 2021) Nguyen, Clara, The Copyright of Spring: Igor Stravinsky and U.S. Law Harvard Undergraduate Law Review (Spring 2020)
Petrenko, Vasily Notes to SHOSTAKOVICH, D.: Symphonies (Complete) (Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Choir and Orchestra, Petrenko) (Naxos)
BBC Proms performance archive


The concert with be broadcast on BBC Radio 3 at 19.30 on Monday 3 February, and will available on BBC Sounds for 30 days

The BBC Philharmonic – Mischief and Magic – Live Review

BBC Philharmonic. Image copyright Chris Payne

Saturday 5 October 2024

The Bridgewater Hall Manchester

*****

A magical evening of virtuosity and merriment

BBC Philharmonic
The BBC Philharmonic with Chief Conductor John Storgårds. Image © Chris Payne.

Last Saturday’s concert by the BBC Philharmonic took magic as its theme from Stravinsky’s 1911 ballet Petrushka, in which a magician brings the puppets to life. But this imaginatively programmed concert began with mischief, the other theme of the evening, in Till Eulenspiegel’s Merry Pranks. Written in 1894–95 by Richard Strauss, the tone poem describes the practical jokes of the trickster of the title, a figure who has appeared in European literature since the early sixteenth century. A vast orchestra occupied the stage to illustrate his pranks, playing superbly, with playful enthusiasm, spirited soloists, and lots of detail and humour brought out by conductor John Storgårds who was active and expressive throughout. The piece had a false ending, illustrating Till’s death, after which Till’s theme returned but in a more lugubrious form as if he had returned to haunt us after death, asking him to mourn him. But before we got too sad, Till had the last laugh when he returned with a sparkling version of his theme – a jolly and inspiring start to the concert.

Haydn’s Trumpet Concerto (1796) continued the jolly theme, with lovely light orchestral textures in the first movement, stately strings in the second movement, and more of the jolly strings in the third. Those looking for magic could find it in the playing of the Swedish trumpeter Håkan Hardenberger. He played with a golden tone, rich and warm, with lovely articulation, sailing above the orchestra with lovely phrasing and great fluidity. His first movement cadenza, which he wrote himself as Haydn doesn’t provide one, was magical, leaping up and down the scale then becoming much simpler with subtle ornaments, ending with a tone that recalled the great Miles Davis. Hardenberger was a relaxed presence, joking with a violinist as he left the stage, and returning to a huge and well-deserved cheer.

Håkan Hardenberger playing trumpet
Håkan Hardenberger (trumpet) and John Storgårds (conductor). Image © Chris Payne.

The American composer Betsy Jolas was born in 1926 and is apparently still composing at the age of 98. She was born in Paris but moved with her family to the USA in the early 1940s, returning to Paris in 1946 to study with Darius Milhaud and Olivier Messiaen. She was Messiaen’s assistant from 1971 to 1974, and wrote Onze Lieder (Eleven Songs) in 1977. The piece showed some influences from Messiaen, including the opening chord and some of the piano writing which could have come from Messiaen’s Quartet for the End of Time (1941). But Jolas has found her own voice, influenced more by sixteenth century polyphonic vocal music by the likes of Orlando di Lasso than by the intellectual rigours of the Darmstadt School of composers. Her love of vocal music was shown in the structure of the piece, a series of eleven short songs. Hardenberger brought the magic of his virtuosic playing to the solo trumpet part. It was also easy to imagine him as a magician, leading the chamber orchestra players as their parts echoed his. Particularly effective were the passages where a muted, distant-sounding trumpet from the orchestra echoed the solo trumpet in a moving duet. And towards the end there was a huge outburst from the solo trumpet as the orchestra clattered to the floor in anguish. The variety of Hardenberger’s playing was stunning. Sometimes the trumpet had a low rasp like a didgeridoo. Elsewhere equalling the playing and tone of avantgarde trumpeter Markus Stockhausen. And at other times his playing was decorative with a filigree effect, reminding us of the cadenza in the Haydn Concerto.

Hardenberger introduced the encore as, ‘another piece by an old lady who is still writing’, Joni Mitchell who is 80 years old. He played a gorgeous arrangement of Mitchell’s Both Sides, Now (1969) for string orchestra and solo trumpet. The piece features in an emotional scene from the film Love Actually (2003), in which Emma Thompson’s character quietly weeps as she listens to it. Hardenberger’s playing was warm and rich in this lovely piece.

Joni Mitchell’s Both Sides, Now from Håkan Hardenberger’s 2012 album of the same name

The second half of the concert was a stunning performance of the 1911 version of Stravinsky’s Petrushka. If Till Eulenspiegel’s Merry Pranks is programmatic and episodic in structure and content, then Petrushka is even more so. Following along with a very detailed synopsis of the ballet by Robert Philip during the concert, it was possible to pick out each of the vividly characterised sections of the four Tableaus with ease, so expressive was the orchestral playing. Tableau One The Shrovetide Fair began with glittering woodwind and thrillingly fast chords illustrating the bustling of the crowd at the fair. Storgårds brought out every detail of the orchestral texture while maintaining momentum, with precise syncopation and perfect ensemble. The lilting flute solo from Alex Jakeman, illustrating the ‘Magic Trick’ of the magician introducing the puppets in his theatre was lovely. John Bradbury’s solo clarinet duetting with Ian Buckle on piano was colourful and vibrant. The Second Tableau Petrushka’s Room opened with excellent bassoon and trumpet solos, and Petrushka’s anger at the magician was stirringly drawn by the orchestra. The Third Tableau, The Moor’s Room began with a lurching evil-sounding dance created by unison clarinet and bass clarinet. The music of the flirtatious Ballerina, a slow waltz with scything lower strings, was a moment of quiet magic. There was virtuosic trumpet playing as Petrushka appeared, followed by brilliant flute and bassoon solos as the Moor and Petrushka fought. The fierce dissonances of muted trumpets brought out the tension between the Moor and Petrushka. and there were savage chords as the latter was beaten, the music still sounding fresh in this performance even though the piece is more than a century old. The final Tableau The Shrovetide Fair (Towards Evening) began with a bustling recreation of the opening of the First Tableau. Again, the orchestra excelled. It was fascinating to hear how Petrushka was a bridge between The Firebird (1910) and The Rite of Spring (1913). Some of the crunchy, fiercely rhythmic orchestral chords cast forward to Stravinsky’s Rite which used the whole orchestra as a percussion instrument, and the quiet orchestral chords near the end cast back to the more romantic style of The Firebird. At the very end, Petrushka’s ghost appeared, bringing us back to the death of Till Eulenspiegel at the beginning of the concert. The ending of Petrushka was strangely ambiguous and unresolved, but the audience on Saturday were left in no doubt about the quality of the BBC Philharmonic, both as individual solo players and as an ensemble, bringing this special evening to a magnificent end.

Performers

BBC Philharmonic
John Storgårds conductor
Håkan Hardenberger trumpet

Repertoire

Strauss Till Eulenspiegel’s Merry Pranks
Haydn Trumpet Concerto
Betsy Jolas Onze Lieder
Joni Mitchell Arr. R. Pontinen Both Sides, Now
Stravinsky Petrushka (1911 Version)

Source

Philip, Robert The Classical Music Lover’s Companion to Orchestral Music (Yale University Press, 2018)

The complete concert will be broadcast on BBC Radio 3 at 19.30 on Monday 14 October and will be available on BBC Sounds for 30 days after that.