Barbican Hall
Huw Watkins – Flute Concerto
(world premiere)
Mahler – Symphony no.1 in D
major
Adam Walker (flute)
London Symphony Orchestra
Daniel Harding (conductor)
Adam Walker had already
premiered one of Huw Watkins’s works, the Capriccio
for flute and piano, in 2010. Upon Walker’s award of a Fellowship from the
Borletti-Buitoni Trust, and consequent funding for a commission, both from the
Trust and from individual patrons, Walker approached Watkins to write a
concerto, whose premiere we were now to hear. According
to Schott’s website, the concerto is ‘built around Walker’s playing,’ the
composer having noted ‘especially Walker’s “amazing sound and control of his
instrument”, which he constantly had in mind during the composition process”.’ Insofar
as I could tell from a first hearing and without a score, there seemed to be no
doubt not only of Walker’s technical facility but also of his musical
commitment, ably supported by the London Symphony Orchestra under Daniel
Harding. Phrasing and variegated tone suggested a repertoire work Walker had
been playing for years rather than a first performance. Watkins could hardly
have hoped for superior advocacy.
Cast in the traditional three
movements, Allegro molto, Andante, and Allegro molto, his concerto is also thoroughly traditional in terms
of their character: they seem not only to function as recognisable
quasi-symphonic first movement, slow movement and rondo finale, but also to
possess ‘character’ tallying with their placing. The germination of the first
movement’s material from a flickering cell – if a cell may be admitted to
flicker! – is clear throughout, Walker’s finely-spun flute line permitting the
listener to trace his or her way without difficulty. It is perhaps easy to
overlook the technical problems in ensuring an instrument such as the flute
makes itself heard against a sizeable orchestra, but this never seemed to be a
problem for composer or musicians. There is certainly real craft at work here. The
slow movement continues, as indeed does the dance-like finale, to make its way
in a recognisably tonal idiom. Sonority and command of the orchestra seemed to
have much in common with the music of a composer such as Julian Anderson,
though in the context of this particular concert, it was interesting to note,
especially during the slow movement, moments at which new vistas appeared to
open up, perhaps not so breathtakingly as in Mahler’s case, but offering an
interesting correspondence, whether merely fortuitous or no. Doubtless this concerto
will prove a valuable addition to the flute repertoire.
Mahler’s First Symphony followed
the interval, and received for the most part an estimable performance from
Harding and the LSO: unquestionably a relief following Valery Gergiev’s dubious
dabblings with Mahler’s music. The first movement was perhaps marginally less
successful. Whilst Harding’s disinclination to drive the music was greatly
appreciated, there were occasions when tension sagged a little, though
certainly not in its thrilling conclusion. There was beauty, though, in the
sounds of the Nature with which the music comes to initial life, the LSO’s technical
ability second to none, string harmonics holding none of the fears they still
do for some orchestras. Harding’s orchestral layout, violins split left and
right, was much appreciated in this movement and elsewhere for enabling Mahler’s
counterpoint fully to register. The second movement was taken relatively ‘straight’,
as indeed was the symphony as a whole, but emerged no worse for that: there is
nothing worse than underlining every ‘point’, as if Mahler cannot be trusted to
speak for himself. Much the same could be said of the funeral march, its
eeriness emerging from the material rather than being imposed upon it.
Contrasts were undeniable, but never excessive, in a movement whose performance
was possessed of considerable cumulative power. The halting journey to
redemption, or whatever the apparent triumph of the finale may be, was
convincingly traced. If the awkward corners of this and the first movement were
not entirely concealed, that is more testament to Mahler’s relative immaturity than
to any shortcoming in performance; it takes a Kubelík or a Boulez truly to have
one forget the problems, and there is something indeed to be said for a reading
that places such trust in what remains a staggeringly original first symphony.
Not that Harding was in any sense staid: the final peroration blazed with
theatricality, horns and trombones standing to attention. Claudio Abbado, to
whose memory this concert was dedicated, would surely have admired the
continuing work of his ‘little genius’. Harding’s heartfelt, eloquent tribute
in the programme matched that on the podium. A black mark is awarded, though,
for the programme’s description of the work as the ‘Titan’, the Jean
Paul-inspired epithet inappropriate to the work in its final version as heard
here.
