Concert review: Laura Fleur, mezzo / Guildhall Symphony Orchestra / Roberto Gonzalez-Monjas (Barbican Centre)

The concert, which took place on 17 March, featured three twentieth century works which are renowned as orchestral showpieces. They are, in short, perfect vehicles for any orchestra to show what it is made of. More so, if the orchestra is comprised of precious and developing talents of the future, as the Guildhall Symphony Orchestra undoubtedly is.

[Image credit: Guildhall School of Music & Drama]

Lutosławski’s Concerto for Orchestra, written between 1950 and 1954, was given an assured performance under the baton of Guildhall alumnus and faculty member Roberto Gonzalez-Monjas. The first movement impressed immediately with the imposing and purposeful opening chords that united the harps and timpani. The dance rhythms that dominate the movement were realised with a surety of purpose and deftness of touch throughout the instrumental ranges. If one quality stood out, it was the naturalistic blending and contrasting of instrumental sonorities, which surely resulted from careful preparation that went into the performance as a whole. Witness, for example, how the horns played off against the almost bickering oboes and clarinets with the appearance of the second theme. The middle movement gave a further opportunity for the orchestra’s instrumental sections to showcase their quality. Whilst the speed required by the capriccio was delivered by Roberto Gonzalez-Monjas’ aptly chosen tempo, other qualities delivered a performance that emphasised the textural aspects of Lutosławski’s score. Whereas some music relies on volume to impress, Lutosławski calls for nuanced playing and delicate layering of individual lines to achieve his intended aims. These qualities were delivered in abundance. The closing movement’s complex tri-partite structure presents challenges of contrast and integration to achieve a performance that satisfies. Roberto Gonzalez-Monjas was fully alert to these challenges, as were the orchestra. The Guildhall Symphony Orchestra drew out the drama and playfulness within individual parts delightfully to realise a score that calls for tour-de-force performance qualities.

Ravel’s Shéhérazade transported the audience away from Eastern Europe and towards the Middle East through evocations tales from One Thousand and One Nights. Ravel freely admitted Debussy was the inspiration for the work and was intent on setting difficult verse and in the opening Asie the normally restrained Ravel reaches heights of near Wagnerian ecstasy as he reaches the words “Je voudrais voir mourir d’amour ou bien dela haine”, penned aptly under A.J. Léon Leclère’s pseudonym Tristan Klingsor. Singer and orchestra are packed off on this journey supplied with all imaginable richness to deliver the listener as they recount a virtual Baedeker account of Middle Eastern sights to the delight of ear and eye. The mezzo soprano Laura Fleur proved a sensitive guide to such rich desires, her tone creamy, secure of pitch and with occasionally veiled annunciation, whilst Gonzalez-Monjas provided reassuring guidance for the orchestra. The contrasts of tone, with brightness to the fore, in the harps, celesta and piccolo accented the second song, to which Laura Fleur brought a sense of wonder through her use of the text. Then inferences of danger roused singer and orchestra alike to a conclusion of some impact in the final song.  

Scriabin’s Poem of Ecstasy rounded out this involving programme. Originally conceived of a four movement symphony, in its final form it became a condensed single movement written in sonata form. Therefore, on one level there is an aspect formal structure. In almost every other respect though Scriabin forged his own path: there are no themes and no development of material in the traditional sense. Whilst writing the Poem of Ecstasy Scriabin spoke of a “great joy”. This sense of uplifting passion was realised by the Guildhall Symphony Orchestra: their performance was fully alert to the iconoclasm of Scriabin’s score. Many sequences of blazing instrumental colour and textural splashes would have clearly delighted the Barbican Hall audience. None more so than the work’s music-shattering finale, which was galvanised by playing of ferocious energy.
 
Reviewed from a streamed recording

Concert Review: Alda Dizdari and Maria Gîlicel, violins / Mellos Ensemble (Southwark International Music Festival)

The opening concert in any new music festival with aspirations to become an annual event needs to immediately create an impression and, hopefully, carry with it the portent of great things to come. By launching with a programme entitled ‘Genius’ the Southwark International Music Festival, brainchild of violinist Alda Dizdari during lockdown last year, sought to do just that by finding synchronicity of purpose with the three works played by the Mellos Ensemble.

Each of the composers featured – Bach, Elgar and Enescu – wrote their pieces at a time in their lives when they had not yet achieved the fame that would eventually make their reputations. Another thread of performance connects these composers: Enescu, himself a fabulous violinist, recorded Bach’s double concerto with Yehudi Menuhin. It was also with Enescu that Menuhin prepared Elgar’s violin concerto for the famous recording of the work, conducted by the composer.

The flexibility of the Mellos Ensemble’s constitution – a core of members is supplemented to accommodate the performance of larger-scale works – was shown to good advantage throughout the concert. Alda Dizdari provided discrete yet assured direction in her role as ensemble leader. In Bach’s Concerto in D Minor for Two Violins, BWV 1043, she played the first solo violin part, whilst Maria Gîlicel played the second solo part.

The opening Vivace movement was well articulated with a sense of ensemble proportion, whilst the solo parts were distinct and characterful. In the middle movement, Largo ma non tanto, an apt tempo was taken without ever becoming ponderous. This allowed for a sense of reflection, which enabled the sinuous interplay of the reversed solo lines to fully register. Maria Gîlicel’s mellower tone contrasted well against the brighter timbre of Alda Dizdari’s playing, which benefitted the concerto as a whole. The closing Allegro movement’s lively intricacies were enjoyed by the ensemble and soloists alike, revealing much of interest in Bach’s inventive writing.

Edward Elgar’s youthful and slender Serenade for Strings in E Minor, Op.20, followed. The Serenade for Strings was written in 1892. A compact work consisting of three relatively brief movements, it was a revision and reworking of earlier material.

The opening Allegro piacevole, literally a ‘pleasing’ Allegro, was played with a buoyant tempo and warmth of tone, so much so that the impression of an English idyll came readily to mind. This was continued by the middle movement Larghetto, in which foreshadowings of Nimrod from the ‘Enigma’ Variations were readily detectable. A most sensitive blending of timbres was expertly handled, and nowhere more so than the movement’s closing diminuendo passages. This fully captured the romance in Elgar’s heart-on-sleeve writing. The final Allegretto movement captured the feeling of a pastorale, as the ensemble conveying a sense of unified contentment in their generous yet unforced articulation of this brief yet tender moment of Elgarian repose.

The evening concluded with a performance of George Enescu’s mighty String Octet in C Major, Op.7. Sometimes performed with a conductor, given its intricacy, it says a great deal that the Mellos Ensemble tackled it without one. The Octet’s four connected movements work together to form a large-scale sonata form across its entire structure. Something of the effort that Enescu grappled with is evident in any performance, as motifs and ideas recur between the movements. The Mellos Ensemble did not shy away from its challenges in their performance.

The first movement, Très modéré, was begun just a touch of hesitancy, but progressed to find a requisite driving rhythm. Individual lines were clearly articulated, and interest was maintained across Enescu’s wide canvas through variety of tone, timbre and articulation. If at times the violins occasionally were prominent, the violas and cellos also had their passages of importance; these duly registered without taking away from the whole. The monumentally fugal second movement was greatly enlivened by the incisive attack afforded it in this performance. There was also elegance in its playing and discretion in playing individual lines, which contribute threads towards the completion of a tapestry. The third movement, Lentement, which takes the form of a meditative and even nostalgic nocturne, held the attention through playing that was confident and shaded at times with great depth of feeling. The Octet’s closing movement, a rhythmic waltz, was high-spirited. That the entire Mellos Ensemble clearly had this music comfortably under their fingers, as it were, aided their fully committed realisation of Enescu’s youthful vision for this work, which he claimed was the one with which he attained his own compositional voice. Playing of this calibre left me wondering anew why Enescu’s Octet is not better known, even today.

The concert was met with an enthusastic reception by the in-person audience at Sands Films Music Room, and I assume, the audience watching at home via the livestream. Over the past two years, it has been a necessity to often enjoy music-making online, often with variable sound quality. There were no such issues here though, thankfully. Hybrid audience concerts could well be a format of choice going forward, since it opens up events to a truly global audience.

Three further concerts are scheduled within the Southwark International Music Festival during the next week – details and booking online at https://southwarkmusic.org.uk/festival/. Having enjoyed watching this concert via an online livestream from Sands Films Music Room, it is good to see that one other concert in this years’ series is also being livestreamed, which you can watch free of charge. I urge you to investigate and support if you can – it is only through support that ventures like this will establish themselves, backed by funding and professional organisation, so the musicians and performances can receive the recognition they truly deserve. A credit to all involved; more please!

Concert review: Pauline Viardot songs and violin sonatine (Guildhall School of Music & Drama)

The French-born mezzo-soprano of Spanish origin, Pauline Viardot (1821-1910) enjoyed a varied career as an internationally renowned singer, actress, teacher and composer. During her performing career, which took her to Brussels, London, New York, Paris and Saint Petersburg, she sang 33 different operatic roles and knew many of the leading composers, several of whom dedicated works to her.

Such a career is remarkable in its own right, but when you take into account the artistic prowess of her immediate family, perhaps it was only to be expected. Her father, Manuel was a tenor; her mother Maria-Joaquína was a singer, as was her older brother Manuel. Most famous of all though was her older sister, Maria Malibran, who is particularly remembered for her interpretations of several Rossini and Bellini operatic roles.
 

[Image credit: Guildhall School of Music & Drama]

 
The excellent introductory notes to this enterprising concert at by postgraduate students at the Guildhall School of Music & Drama puts Viardot’s vocal writing in context:

“How did she obtain all these famous composers as friends and colleagues? No matter where she lived throughout her life, she held a Music Salon every Thursday evening in her home. Many composers would attend and use the soirée as an opportunity to perform their new and noteworthy works. Pauline would also have her students attend these salons. Many of these composers (Massenet, Gounod, Saint-Saëns, Fauré, and others) credit her with supporting their works and launching their careers.

Pauline composed for voice, choir, piano, chamber ensembles, and operas throughout her life. She also arranged piano accompaniments for her father’s songs and her brother-in-law’s violin studies. Since she had lived all over the world, her compositions did not centre around one specific style. She wrote songs (and was fluent) in French, German, Italian, Russian, and English. Pauline drew inspiration from her composer friends and used many texts from her literary friends. To Pauline’s disagreement, George Sand had always believed her compositions to be more important than her singing.”

This concert featured mezzo-soprano Anika-France Forget, sopranos Olivia Boen, Caroline Bourg,  Katherine McIndoe and Vladyslava Yakovenko, tenor Hidde Stobbe and baritone Thomas Litchev, variously accompanied by Spencer Klymyshyn, Feilin Liu and Mai Nakase. Instrumental items were performed by cellist Pedro Silva, violinist Joonas Pekonen and pianist Jakub Sladek.

This celebration of the bicentenary of Viardot’s birth was judiciously curated by Florent Mourier. It presented 14 song settings in French and one in German; the three movements of the Sonatine for violin and piano interspersed throughout the songs. To underline the intimate, salon nature of Viardot’s writing, the musicians seated themselves around a central piano; the singers stepping forward in turn for their songs. A standard lamp and rug adorned the Milton Court Concert Hall stage, thereby furthering the sense of domesticity that Viardot would have surely identified with.

Compositionally, it is impossible to ignore Viardot’s style which often embodies all the virtues of the bel canto – with its emphasis upon the singer’s tonal quality and breath control, married with a beauteous, unobtrusive accompaniment – that she knew only too well from her experience as a performer.

The creamy tone and carefully sustained vocal line produced by soprano Katherine McIndoe was matched by sensitively tasteful playing of Feilin Liu in the solitary item for this pairing, O, pauvre âme! Tempestuous passions enflamed both the vocal line and accompaniment of Désespoir, with soprano Caroline Bourg eventually catching the mood in her sole offering. Olivia Boen’s carefully sustained and assuredly ornamented vocal line in Chanson de la pluie was a delight and left me wanting to hear more from her.

More extensive partnerships also offered much to enjoy within this concert. Tenor Hidde Stobbe and his accompanist Mai Nakase presented three songs – his light tone and clear diction particularly suited the almost arie antiche quality of Plus d’espérance.  In a further song from this pairing, there was an almost wistful quality to Haï Luli. To Les attraits, accompanied by Spencer Klymyshyn, Hidde Stobbe brought a neo-classical quality through his elegant attention to the text.

A shaded tone pervaded the performance of the brief chanson Ici-bas tous les lilas meurent by Thomas Litchev. L’ombre et le jour, an exercise in vocal restraint was perfectly suited to Litchev also. In the context of this concert, Die Sterne was something of a curiousity: with both piano and cello accompanying the vocal part. The whole proved plaintive in tone and very much heart-on-sleeve throughout, fittingly matching the character of Pushkin’s original poem in its German translation.

Vladyslava Yakovenko’s first contribution, Bonjour mon Coeur, brought out the song’s bravura character with ease, sparklingly partnered by Spencer Klymyshyn. La coquette was delivered with suitable ornamentation and assurance which did not deny the underlying sense of insouciance its place. The airy, breathy quality brought to Gentilles hirondelles seemed appropriate to a song concerned with airborne birds.

Altogether more Spanish flavour and emotion was evidenced by Anika-France Forget in Madrid. Together with her accompanist Mai Nakase, Anika-France was fully convincing of the inner emotions felt by a chastised lover in Reproches. Le miroir continued in the same vein. How good it would be to hear more from this pairing in particular.

The Sonatine for violin and piano enjoyed a most winning performance. The opening Adagio, replete with yearning passion in its flowing solo line, was most sensuously played by Joonas Pekonen. Jakub Sladek’s accompaniment also did not conceal the passion in Viardot’s writing. The Allegro/Scherzo second movement picked up the Spanish flavour once again in its romantic, heartfelt instrumental lines – indeed, the only thing that might prevent this becoming a winning and highly ornamented song was the lack of a text. The closing Allegro movement rounded out not only the Sonatine but this concert too with music that put Viardot’s gift for lyricism and flourish once again to the fore. Both these qualities Joonas Pekonen and Jakub Sladek delivered with ease. If this concert was anything to by then Viardot’s music is worthy of wider attention, as it is finely written and full of excellent melodies.

A further Viardot rarity, a staging of her opera Cendrillon, was also recently performed at Guildhall School. I shall review this once the video stream is available online.
Reviewed via video stream