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

CD Review: Chausson / Ravel / Enescu (David Grimal, violin; Les Dissonances) La Dolce Volta LDV97

Chausson: Poème for Violin & Orchestra, Op. 25

Ravel: Tzigane

Enescu: Caprice Roumain for Violin & Orchestra

It says a lot about the re-evaluation and wider availability of George Enescu’s music that several musicians have turned to works that were left incomplete in preference to the ‘core’ repertoire of the sonatas, suites or symphonies. Think of Peter Ruzicka’s successful accounts of the Fourth and Fifth symphonies on cpo or Luiza Borac’s live recording of the Piano Concerto movement on Hanssler. Ruzicka and Borac have also recently joined forces to record Enescu’s Phantasie for piano and orchestra. This cpo release will be paired with another work from 1896, the incomplete Violin Concerto in A minor, featuring Carolin Widmann as the soloist.

The Caprice Roumain, completed by Cornel Ţăranu, is perhaps the closest thing to a full violin concerto by Enescu that exists. The recording issued by La Dolce Volta, live from 2015, is not violinist David Grimal’s first foray on disc with Enescu’s music. He made a decent recording of the third sonata for piano and violin with George Pludermacher (Ambroisie label, 2008). No doubt David Grimal and Les Dissonances have sought to release the recording now to coincide with their performance of the Caprice Roumain later this month at the Enescu Festival in Bucharest.

The booklet interview with David Grimal succinctly identifies several aspects of Enescu’s musical personality: the mix of influences (French and Romanian folk idioms) upon his compositional style – this, though, oversimplifies things as Enescu was a much more complex figure. Grimal also pinpoints the fact that detail and atmosphere need to be effectively balanced in any performance of Enescu’s music. So, what about the performance itself?

On the whole, Grimal makes a convincing case for the Caprice Roumain. His playing of the solo violin part is clean and committed, without resorting to a distracting metallic tone even in the highest reaches of the register. Les Dissonances plays with atmosphere, aided by the slightly resonant recording. Individual instrumental lines and textures such as cor anglais, oboe, horns and the piano penetrate through the string-dominant orchestration at telling moments. The only competitor on disc (also on Youtube) is the rarely available performance on the Romanian Electrecord label from Sherban Lupu, violin with the George Enescu Philharmonic Orchestra under Cristian Mandeal’s baton. The recording is a touch dryer and the orchestral winds are more characterful. Lupu’s solo tone is fuller than Grimal’s – something I slightly missed on repeated listening. Mandeal drives the orchestra forward: his Tempo di Hora second movement leaps into life, whereas the slower tempo adopted by Les Dissonances is just a touch reticent. Perhaps that’s the key difference from performers who have spent years performing a wider Enescuvian repertoire.

Cristian Mandeal once told me he found the Caprice Roumain, “Interesting, but not entirely Enescu”. Listening to the new recording, I am aware of the orchestration’s rather one-dimensional character, with close string textures used throughout. Perhaps if Enescu had completed the orchestration a wider palette of orchestral colours might be in evidence. Anyone new to Enescu’s orchestral writing would do well to investigate the three mature symphonies, the suites or the opera Oedipe for a truer indication of Enescu’s gifts as an orchestrator.

La Dolce Volta preface Enescu’s Caprice Roumain with Chausson’s Poème and Ravel’s Tzigane. Both are works that Enescu played as a violinist and they illustrate the Gallic context that he absorbed on a daily basis, given that for much of his life he lived in Paris.

The recordings, from 2021, are studio-based rather than taken from concerts. Together, they face stiff competition as both works are widely available. Grimal and Les Dissonances sound fully at home with both works with performances that seduce the ear. The playing of soloist and ensemble has a lithe and subtle quality about it which suits both works. There are bigger boned performances of the Chausson and more overtly ‘folksy’ recordings of Ravel’ Tzigane available. To Grimal’s credit, he resists uncalled-for fussy fingerings or vibrato that muddies the tone, to the detriment of the melodic lines.

All said, this CD brings together the familiar with the all-but-unheard in engaging performances that are well recorded and presented. Despite a relatively short playing time of 53 minutes, this release is well worth investigating.

 4 Stars – release date: 10 September 2021. Reviewed from a promotional download.