Jackson/LaFollette/Melos Sinfonia/Zeffman - Dutilleux, Haydn, and Rimsky-Korsakov, 25 June 2016

Jerwood Hall, LSO St Luke’s

Dutilleux – Sur le même accord

Haydn – Cello Concerto no.1 in C major, Hob.Viib:1
Rimsky-Korsakov, Scheherazade, op.35

Martyn Jackson (violin)
Bartholomew LaFollette (cello)
Melos Sinfonia
Oliver Zeffman (conductor)

Culture, education, young people, London: as victims of the present chaos go, it would have been difficult to find a better example than those playing at and in the audience for, this concert. The response was the best possible: defiant excellence. Many thanks then, to the Melos Sinfonia and Oliver Zeffman, for a light in the darkness at this catastrophic time in our country’s – and Europe’s – history.

 

I have begun to warm to Dutilleux’s music in his centenary year. It had not properly ‘spoken’ to me before, but Sur le même accord certainly did on this occasion. So named on account of the six-not chord introduced at the opening, which provides the material for what comes thereafter, Sur le même accord benefited greatly from ardent advocacy from Martyn Jackson and the orchestra. Jackson’s declamatory pizzicato opening presented a storyteller: almost as if he were telling us ‘Once upon a time…’. Premonitions of Rimsky-Korsakov already – or should that be echoes? Thinking of Russian composers, Prokofiev often came to mind, although so too, to a lesser extent, did Berg; there were definite post-war episodes, though, not least an almost Messiaen-like marimba intervention. Jackson’s richly seductive line sounded as first among equals, for not only were there several other splendid solos to enjoy (for instance, from clarinet and cello), but the work’s dealing, in Dutilleux’s words, ‘with the abstract relations within the orchestral universe’ came strongly to the fore.

 

There has never, so far as I can recall, been a time when warming to Haydn’s music proved a problem for me. This performance of the C major Cello Concerto, with Bartholomew LaFollette the outstanding soloist, reminded one of so many of the virtues of that great European. (Only a fool would ascribe to him ‘nationality’; alas, there are many fools around.) The first movement opened warmly; it was stylishly, meaningfully articulated, properly dynamic in its conception of form. That was even before the solo entry. LaFollette’s playing showed much the same characteristics. And what a splendid sense of line there was to be heard: gorgeous yet never self-regarding in tone, clean and clear. Crucially in Haydn, this was a performance to have one love the music – and indeed its composer. Civilisation seemed still to be with us, or at least near, the elegance of LaFollette’s playing, not least in the cadenza, putting me in mind – and no, I am not exaggerating – of Tortelier. Wonder of wonders, we heard an Adagio that was an Adagio. It sang beautifully, honestly; I almost wished our Scheherazade would start again. A slightly subdued opening to the finale had me wonder to start with. It proved, however, to have been a subtle trick, much in the spirit of the composer, for suddenly, without vulgarity, there came full orchestral sound and vigour. There was much play like that – and in many other ways. It made me listen – and what a joy it was here to listen.

Rimsky’s Scheherazade was our work for the second half. Zeffman was clearly in his element – although he had been no less in the first half. I was intrigued by the way this symphonic suite proved as much a study of ‘relations within the orchestral universe’ as the Dutilleux piece had; both, of course, benefited greatly from the excellence of Martyn Jackson on violin (now as leader). Its opening was formidable, the Melos Sinfonia’s brass more than a little ‘Russian’ in their vibrato. The response, needless to say, was silky and seductive. Subtle dynamic gradations, not in the least pedantic, proved as expressive as harmony and orchestration, Sinbad and Prince Kalender coming vividly to life. Glorious string sheen, even from a relatively small band, helped no end; much the same might be said for perky woodwind. There was exoticism, of course, but it always felt – indeed, was – directed. A keen sense of narrative, whether or no it might actually be put into words, was always present. Transformation of themes proved both a pictorial and an intellectual delight. If Liszt inevitably came to mind, so too did the future, of both Strauss and Stravinsky. There were symphonic correspondences; quite rightly, however, this remained a suite rather than failing as an aspirant symphony. For all its supposed renown, this is not a work we hear very often in the concert hall; I am not sure that I have ever done so before. There is all the more reason, then, to applaud so fine a performance as this.

LaFollette/Melos Sinfonia/Zeffman - Tchaikovsky, Panufnik, and Myaskovsky, 31 January 2014

LSO St Luke’s

Tchaikovsky – Fantasy Overture: Romeo and Juliet, TH 42

Panufnik – Cello Concerto
Myaskovsky – Symphony no.27, op.85 (London premiere)

Bartholomew LaFollette (cello)

Melos Sinfonia

Oliver Zeffman (conductor)

 

I was delighted to have this opportunity to hear the Melos Sinfonia under their young (still an undergraduate at Durham) principal conductor, Oliver Zeffman. The orchestra’s players are current students and recent graduates of major conservatories and universities, as well as orchestras such as the European Union Youth Orchestra, the Gustav Mahler Youth orchestra, the Britten-Pears Orchestra, and the Southbank Sinfonia. Moreover, the stated commitment to ‘playing rarely-performed works and new compositions’ is laudable – and was certainly displayed on this particular occasion.

 

The only repertory piece was the opening Tchaikovsky Romeo and Juliet Overture. Though there were occasions when the strings might have benefited from lusher tone and indeed from greater numbers, and there were a few frayed edges, they were less frequent than one might have expected. Moreover, keen woodwind playing proved ample compensation. Zeffman guided the score not only ably but perceptively. There was a true sense of narrative characterisation and development, placing the overture firmly within a post-Lisztian context. It is a brave work with which to open, but courage was amply justified. I have heard considerably inferior performances from ‘big name’ conductors and orchestras.

 

Having proved themselves in such treacherous territory, it was then perhaps easier to gain an audience’s trust for a less familiar work, Andrezj Panfnik’s 1991 Cello Concerto, written for Rostropovich and the LSO during the composer’s final illness, his final work. Joined by the excellent cellist, Bartholomew LaFollette, the musicians gave what seemed to me an authoritative account, clearly well-rehearsed and powerfully executed. Throughout, rhythms were taut, without a sense of being excessively driven. LaFollette proved adept at spinning long-breathed melodies in the Adagio first movement. Zeffman accompanied – much of this first movement does seem to be largely a matter of ‘accompaniment – attentively, and had the orchestra dance winningly in the ensuing Vivace. That second of two movements seems almost to become a double concerto, percussionist Ed Scull proving just as fine a soloist in all but name. LaFollette’s rendition of the lengthy cadenza seemed as convincing as the material would permit; it is difficult not to think it too long, but that is not his fault. Despite an interesting introductory conversation between Donald Macleod and Roxanna Panufnik, I cannot say that I was won over to the composer’s cause. For all the talk of restricting socialist realism prior to emigration, that is just what the music sounded like. Indeed, it was difficult to reconcile its style and language with the date of composition. The performances, though, were impressive indeed.

 

A less welcome introduction was offered to Nikolai Myaskovsky’s Twenty-seventh (!) Symphony. Bumbling and frankly amateurish, the speaker concerned, however genuine his enthusiasm, would have been better advised to let the music speak for itself. (Still, that is hardly unusual in the world of such introductions.) Once again, however, Zeffman and the Melos Sinfonia gave committed performances, woodwind and brass perhaps especially impressive, but that is probably as much a matter of the opportunities granted them to shine as anything else. Again, this is no masterpiece, but one can hardly complain about having been given an opportunity to hear it, for this was its first London performance. (Apparently, there had been one prior British performance, at Dartington.) The interest in such works seems more autobiographical, partly a result of outdated Cold War attitudes, rather than æsthetic, but we need to hear them occasionally to appreciate that, and it is certainly no weaker than many a Shostakovich symphony. Perhaps surprisingly – or perhaps not – Bruckner came to mind in the slow movement, not only harmonically but even structurally. The apparent influence of, or at least kinship with, Glazunov was less welcome. (I was put in mind of Stravinsky’s recollection of the 1907 premiere of his early Symphony in E-flat major: ‘The only bad omen was Glazunov, who came to me afterward, saying, “Very nice, very nice.”’ Whatever the shortcomings of the work, though, this was a highly enterprising and successful performance. These are clearly an orchestra and conductor who merit our attention.