Barbican Hall
Ligeti:
Concert
Românesc
Haydn:
Symphony no.86 in D major
Berg:
Lulu
Suite
Gershwin,
arr. Barbara Hannigan and Bill Elliott: Girl Crazy: Suite
London Symphony Orchestra
Barbara Hannigan (soprano,
conductor)
I first heard Barbara Hannigan in 2008. She was singing songs by Berg and Webern with Pierre Boulez and immediately made a great impression. Since then, she has been one of those artists I should make an extra effort to hear; not once have I been even slightly disappointed. Hannigan is, of course, most widely known as a singer, but she has been building a parallel, or rather complementary, career as a conductor in the meantime too. I heard her conduct the Britten Sinfonia in 2013, in works by Mozart, Stravinsky, and Haydn, for some of which she sang too – and once again proved enthusiastic. This concert, her LSO debut, offered a worthy successor in that line, now performing works by Ligeti, Haydn again, Berg, and Gershwin.
Ligeti’s Concert Românesc is one of those pieces we hear more than we
probably ought: not in the sense that there is anything wrong with them, but
rather that they seem to offer an early, unrepresentative piece by a composer
who might otherwise be ignored. Webern’s Passacaglia
or even Im Sommerwind would be
obvious examples, even Schoenberg’s Verklärte
Nacht. Hannigan is certainly not one to neglect Ligeti; one of her most
celebrated performances, not least on YouTube, is of his Mysteries of the
Macabre (also with the LSO). I could not help, however, but feel that
this was a performance-in-progress – although it may simply have been a matter
of nerves, of having come first in the programme. Even when it lacked ‘traditional’
incisiveness, as in the first section, there were gains, though, not least a
sense of how close the music might sound to early Bartók, even to Strauss. Bartókian
‘night music’ of a later vintage certainly sang forth in the third section,
even if the final ‘Presto’ came off somewhat hard-driven. In any case, there
was much to relish from the solo work of LSO principals.
Haydn’s Symphony no.86
furthered Hanningan’s growing reputation in Haydn’s music: always a fine
indicator of other strengths. The first movement’s introduction offered a grandeur
and expectation that Colin Davis (thinking of the LSO) would surely have
appreciated, with none of the irritations that, alas, often accompany Simon
Rattle’s way with this composer. If its principal tempo were on the fast side,
it was not unreasonably so. The music largely spoke here ‘for itself’, however
much of an illusion that may be, the development especially well handled, the
final coda a joy. Constructivism and lyricism were kept in a fruitful,
generative relationship throughout in the second movement, founded, as it must
be, in harmony and harmonic movement. This is music to rival Schoenberg in
complexity – something most ‘period’ voices, alas, seem entirely to ignore. So too
is the minuet – as soon as one listens, which Hannigan ensured that we did. Its
trio relaxed harmonically and offered in tandem a winning sense of relative
metrical freedom. Delightful, then, as was the finale, one of my very
favourites: heard as if Leonard Bernstein had returned, albeit with greater
dynamic variegation. It was as witty as it was thrilling, as convincing
vertically as horizontally. More please!
Hannigan’s way with Berg’s Lulu-Suite was surprising. It took me a
while to get used to, and there were unquestionably aspects of the music that
went a little uncared for. That said, to hear it performed with such attention
to the multifarious melodic strands – heard, I suspect, very much from a singer’s
standpoint – was fascinating. So too was the relative lightness, almost
Mendelssohnian, with which the first movement ‘Rondo’ was despatched. The big
moments certainly told, but they were not everything. I am not sure I should
always want to hear the music like this – indeed, I am sure that I should not –
but to hear the classic Romantic/modernist dichotomy not so much evaded as
avoided brought plenty of its own interest. Transparency is necessary no matter
what the interpretative standpoint, of course; here, Hannigan and the LSO
excelled. One might have taken dictation, vocal and verbal, from Hannigan’s
sung contribution to the ‘Lied der Lulu’, which was ‘concert-acted’ too.
Coloratura held no fear for her, but crucially, it was employed dramatically,
just as in Mozart. If there were a few rough orchestral edges to the fourth
movement, it is difficult to imagine them having bothered anyone but pedants.
The final ‘Adagio’ emerged properly de
profundis, as eloquent as if its lines were being sung. Hannigan’s melisma
on ‘Engel’ truly told. Quite a performance, then, in so many ways.
The Gershwin suite with which
the concert concluded proved equally fascinating – and perhaps still more
thrilling. Conceived by Hannigan with the express purpose of accompanying the Lulu-Suite, its ingenious orchestration for
identical forces was commissioned from Bill Elliott. As a Bergian, at times
Mahlerian, soundworld unfolded, it did not jar. Quite the contrary: t drew one
in, not only harmonically but also motivically, to the material of the three
songs, ‘But not for me’, ‘Embraceable you’, and ‘I got rhythm’. Then, of
course, there was Hannigan’s own star quality as a singer: different, perhaps,
from the stars one often associates with this music, but in no sense less
bright. It was sung as carefully as Berg had been, without ever sounding ‘careful’.
The orchestra joined in with some vocal harmony too, but this was in every
sense Hannigan’s show, ‘I got rhythm’ straightforwardly sensational.
