Prom 70: SCO/Gernon - Sir Peter Maxwell Davies, 80th birthday concert, 8 September 2014

Royal Albert Hall

Concert Overture: Ebb of Winter (London premiere)

Strathclyde Concerto no.4

An Orkney Wedding with Sunrise

Dmitri Ashkenazy (clarinet)

Robert Jordan (bagpipes)

Scottish Chamber Orchestra

Ben Gernon (conductor)

Image: Chris Christodoulou/BBC

Unlike many such occasions, this concert actually did take place on the composer’s birthday, albeit banished to a ‘late-night’ slot. I wish I could feel greater enthusiasm for the more recent works of Sir Peter Maxwell Davies, at least taken as a whole. Too often, especially during the Fourth Strathclyde Concerto, I was left hankering for something of the violence of Eight Songs for a Mad King, of Taverner, or of Worldes Blis. (When, I wonder, shall we hear the latter again? Or, in my case, hear it for the first time in concert?) One would not, of course, expect any composer to stay the same throughout his career, and it is perfectly understandable that Davies should consider such works those of an ‘angry young man’ and feel the need to do something different. At any rate, it was good to have the opportunity to hear three works of his which I had never heard ‘live’ before.

Ebb of Winter was written last year, commissioned by the Scottish Chamber Orchestra for its fortieth anniversary. I found it the most compelling of the three pieces performed here, having the scale and ambition of a true tone poem.  The opening calls from horns are – and, in performance were – arresting. Within a minute or so, one hears them, all almost jazzy syncopation, something more ‘involved’ in a Schoenbergian sense, and the ‘Scottish’ rhythms of the Scotch snap: material and moods aplenty, then, for development, and it is that which most impresses. Trumpets seemed to offer a reminiscence of the frenetic world of The Lighthouse. A stentorian chorale made its mark, both uncertain and certain; so did delicate woodwind solos. The depth of orchestral sound from the SCO under Ben Gurnon belied the relatively modest forces.

The fourth of Davies’s ten Strathclyde Concertos followed, Dmitri Ashkenazy joining the orchestra. Again, the performance seemed beyond reproach, and there could be no gainsaying the composer’s command of line. Ultimately, however, what one might call its ‘meditative’ quality proved a little monotonous – and grey – for me. That is not to say that there were not interesting moments. Following the brief introductory Lento, the second section, Allegro moderato, sounded almost like whimsical Brahms, the example – at least to my ears – of Schoenberg again apparent, if somewhat tamed. (It was the First Chamber Symphony that sprang to mind, albeit with thinned-out texture.) ‘Scottish’ rhythms again were to be heard. The following Adagio was gentle, unassuming, but a bit of an endurance test. That said, a discernible thread continued to be heard, so my disappointment may simply be a matter of taste and/or mood. (It was quite late in the evening by this stage!) The marimba, however, offered some sense of relief. Ashkenazy’s account of the cadenza clearly had its measure, preparing the way for a simple, folk-like melody to emerge, the final section proving numinous, even moving.

The frankly pictorial An Orkney Wedding, with Sunrise followed, the SCO players clearly enjoying themselves, some of them – and the composer, onstage, with Tom Service – being offered a drink of celebration during the performance. There was characterful, at times boisterous playing: just as it should be. The descent into the darkest hours of night was expertly handled, both by the orchestra and by Gurnon. Those more enthused than I by the sound of bagpipes will have loved what came next; the instrument made its point, even as I wondered whether Scottish independence might not be so bad a thing after all. An arrangement of Happy Birthday, apparently made by one of the SCO’s players, rounded off the evening.

Prom 17: SCO/Boyd - Mozart and Dvořák, 29 July 2010

Royal Albert Hall

Dvořák – Serenade in D minor, for wind instruments, violoncello, and double bass, op.44, B.77

Mozart – Serenade no.10 in B-flat major, for thirteen instruments, KV 361/370a

Scottish Chamber Orchestra
Douglas Boyd (conductor)

This late-night Prom was to have been conducted by the late Sir Charles Mackerras, featuring two particular loves of his: Dvořák and Mozart. One might add a third: the Scottish Chamber Orchestra, of which he had long been Conductor Laureate. For a programme of music for wind ensemble, it was not unfitting that Mackerras’s replacement should be another former oboist, Douglas Boyd.

The first of two works on the programme was Dvořák’s D minor Serenade. Its first movement is marked Moderato, quasi marcia. One certainly heard a strong impression of the march, even if Boyd was somewhat on the fast side for Moderato; nevertheless, the tempo worked well enough. There was nothing small-scale about the interpretation, which had a welcome sense of the symphonic to it. Particularly striking were the SCO’s grainy bassoons (Peter Whelan and Alison Green). The second movement flowed nicely; if its trio was a touch fussy, it was despatched with panache. I cannot claim to find the main body of the slow movement especially compelling: it comes and goes, and would doubtless make for superior background music. However, the agitated middle section intriguingly presented intimations of Mahler. There was an infectious sense of countryside music-making to the finale. At times, it perhaps sounded a little too ‘conducted’, though this aspect came into its own with the march reminiscence from the first movement.

The masterpiece on the programme was, of course, Mozart’s Gran Partita. My reservations here were usually concerned with tempi – and also, I am afraid, with the use of natural horns, which simply cannot play in tune to the expectations of modern ears and which must also uncomfortably resort to rasping. Valves were invented for a very good reason. The Largo introduction to the first movement was full of promise, perhaps a touch moulded by Boyd, but I should not exaggerate. The Molto allegro was properly lively, with clear counterpoint, if again a little too obviously ‘conducted’. Minuets – the second and fourth movements – were brisk, but not unreasonably so; again clarity was commendable. The second trio of the first minuet brought an extremely noticeable fluff from one of the natural horns, but those of the second minuet could certainly swing. In between those movements comes the sublime Adagio. Boyd’s was not my idea of an Adagio, nor was it Furtwängler’s in his incomparable Vienna Philharmonic recording, but if one could take the Andante approach, there was some beautiful playing to hear from the SCO: less blended than, say, the Academy of St Martin in the Fields, but graininess has its own rewards. The ‘flowing’ – a current ‘period’ euphemism for fast – tempo certainly fitted with Boyd’s conception, outlined in a brief pre-performance discussion, of the movement as an aria in an overtly operatic work. It was beautiful, however, rather than profound: no metaphysics here. I was taken aback to hear the Adagio section of the fifth movement taken slower than I could recall hearing previously. Unfortunately, it sounded laboured, since Boyd gave the impression of hearing it on a bar-to-bar, sometimes even a beat-to-beat, basis; the longer line was lacking. There was great contrast with a fast, driven Allegretto, which would have benefited from time to breathe. The bubbly theme and variations that followed was, however, quite delightful. Here a longer line was discernible, save for a somewhat choppy minor key variation. Then came the finale. Molto allegro is generally an extremely difficult tempo to bring off in Mozart. The modern tendency is to drive too hard: not in itself so much a matter of tempo. Boyd did not entirely avoid this trap, but I have heard worse. All in all, a mixed performance, then, but there remained much to enjoy.

SCO/Anderszewksi: Mozart, Haydn, Beethoven - 15 March 2008

Barbican Hall

Mozart – Symphony no.21 in A major, KV 134*
Haydn – Piano Concerto in D major, Hob.XVIII:11
Beethoven – Piano Concerto no.1 in C major, Op.15

Scottish Chamber Orchestra
David Watkin (director)*
Piotr Anderszewski (piano/director)

When was the last time you heard Mozart’s Symphony no.21? I dare say that it would most likely be some time ago, at least in concert. What might sound like a conventional concert programme – Mozart, Haydn, and Beethoven, although how often does one actually hear the three together in an orchestral concert? – was actually rather imaginative. Certainly one would be unlikely to suspect from such a combination that Haydn and Beethoven would provide two concertos, and Mozart a symphony.

The last of the eight symphonies Mozart wrote in Salzburg between December 1771 and August 1772 made an excellent curtain-raiser, and not just that. It was, unusually, directed from the ’cello of David Watkin, which actually makes quite a bit of musical sense if one is to do without a conductor, for the key to understanding Classical music is the bass line. The Scottish Chamber Orchestra, as one would expect nowadays, was cut down to very small forces. The horns, as throughout, were natural instruments, but fortunately the consequent rasping was not over-emphasised. The strings were sparing with vibrato, although thankfully it was not eliminated altogether, after the perverse, indeed unlistenable example of Roger Norrington. There was a rather unfortunate passage during the slow movement, in which the absence of vibrato exposed all the more unmercifully the lack of precision in intonation, but this was an exception. As a whole, this Andante fared least well, long held notes being sometimes subjected to that toothpaste-squeezing effect so fashionable amongst the authenticists. It may not be necessary to enlist the Vienna Philharmonic to play with the perfection that even early Mozart demands, but it helps. Much of the rest of the performance was pleasing stylish, although there were moments in which I found the articulation a little forced. The minuet was taken with a due sense of style, far from the hurried approach currently fashionable, and the string pizzicati of the trio were especially notable in their unanimity and expressivity. That movement’s minor mode excursus had a welcome hint of the Sturm und Drang, though rightly but a hint: this is early Mozart, not Haydn, and should certainly not sound bizarre. Throughout, Mozart’s two flutes – the SCO’s Alison Mitchell and Elisabeth Dooner – sounded heavenly.

Haydn’s D major Concerto, whilst the most popular of his piano concertos, is heard less often than it might be. Likewise, there was no doubt that this second work was by Haydn, not Mozart, for which much of the credit must go to Piotr Anderszewski. Let there be no doubt about it: Anderszewski is a great pianist. His reading of the score was muscular and in no sense prettified, although this in no sense precluded moments of heartstopping delicacy. Anderszewski clearly understood the tonal plan of each movement and of the work as a whole, and communicated this to both orchestra and audience. Haydn’s vicaciousness was to the fore from the very opening of the first movement. In general, the strings employed more vibrato than they had during the Mozart symphony, although there were passages, again especially during the slow movement, which sounded rather too ‘authenticist’ for me. The Rondo all’Ungarese was full of incident: Anderszewski teasingly brought quirky harmonies and rhythms to our attention, without unnecessary underlining. As for the cadenzas, I assume that they were the pianist’s own. The first, from a more or less Beethovenian axis, looked back towards Haydn and forward into the nineteenth century, though harmonically no further than Schumann or perhaps Brahms. The second pointed forward a little further, largely to good measure – there was a lovely reminiscence or presentiment of Chopin – although there were a couple of moments about which I was a little less sure. Still, I should prefer experimentation a hundred times over pastiche. Playing with so small an orchestra meant that the piano part was more dominant than it might otherwise have been. This had advantages, as it also would in the Beethoven concerto, in that heard Anderszewski’s rock-steady bass line throughout; but I also missed a fuller orchestral sound and a greater sense of partnership. Having a separate conductor would have helped in this regard too.

Perhaps surprisingly, I felt this less in Beethoven’s first piano concerto. Indeed, the opening tutti was the most obviously ‘conducted’ passage of the evening, and greatly profited from the greater inflection this brought. Thereafter, there were passages which would have benefited from an additional pair of hands, which is no especial reflection upon Anderszewski; I can only think offhand of Daniel Barenboim as a pianist with absolutely no need of a conductor in this repertoire. Some of the music, perhaps especially during the finale, sounded a little sectional: partly, I suspect, on account of the lack of dovetailing a conductor would have brought. The structure was certainly clear, but transitions might have been more elegantly moulded in this respect. Anderszewski was vigorous with his hand movements when he was not playing, but I gained the impression that the orchestra was for the most part quite happily playing by itself – and rather well. My general preference would be for a larger orchestra as well as a conductor in this music, but the smaller forces of the SCO brought considerable detail to the fore, especially in the woodwind, whose contributions had a quality of Mozartian Harmoniemusik. As in the Mozart, the string pizzicati in the slow movement were magical. Barnaby Robson was simply outstanding on the first clarinet, as Anderszewski generously acknowledged during the applause. The natural brass and period timpani sounded as they do; many seem more partial than I to their sound. Anderszewski’s pianism seemed to me utterly beyond criticism. The Rondo was taken at a cracking pace, which set the pulse racing without ever sounding hard-driven. Even during the quietest of passages, which could be melting indeed, the pianist displayed a marvellously rounded fullness of tone. Throughout the work, he generated excitement and heart-stopping lyricism in equal measure. I should love to hear him in this piece with a conductor, if only to ascertain precisely what difference would be made. As for Anderszewski’s melting Bach encore, it would have imparted balm to the sternest of souls.