Strong and dignified : Berlioz Requiem Pablo Heras-Casado, Orchestre de Paris

Pablo Heras-Casado conducts the Orchestre de Paris, the choir of the Orchestre de Paris and the orchestra of the Conservatoire de Paris, in Hector Berlioz Requiem (Grand Messe des Morts) (streamed here on arte.tv) together with Witold Lutosławski Musique funèbre à la mémoire de Béla Bartók.  Heras-Casado is fast becoming the kind of conductor who doesn't just conduct extremely well, but also finds distinctive insights into the music he conducts. He did a superlative recent Manuel de Falla CD with the Mahler Chamber Orchestra, for example, which applies that orchestra's virtuosity to de Falla, bringing out the verve and audacity that animates the music. Flamenco isn't soft or wimpy - its very discipline makes it electrifying.   Now we can hear why Harmonia Mundi only issued Granados Goyescas and not El amor brujo from the recent Josep Pons BBC SO concert. Many years ago, when Heras-Casado was very young, he appeared in one of Boulez's masterclass videos.  We can't judge from short clips, but evidently Boulez. who heard a lot more,  appreciated him. Boulez was right !

Combining Berlioz and Witold Lutosławski on this programme from the Philharmonie de Paris emphasized how innovative Berlioz was in his own time.  By no means is the Lutoslawski an add-on. It enhances the Berlioz Requiem, not that it needs enhancing, but adds to the overall impact of the experience.  There has been a lot of excellent Berlioz this year, and several Berlioz Requiems this year, some very good, some less so.  But Heras-Casado stands out. Again, Heras-Casado works with the strengths of the orchestra and choruses, adapting the clarity and commitment of the style. A lucid interpretation, shining with intelligence. Berlioz was flamboyant,  but beneath that, his mind was sharp and highly original.  After the refined Introit, the Dies Irae emerged with dark, ominous majesty. Tight, precise rhythms, underlining the tense pitting of one choral section against the other, creating a sense of division and anxiety. Thus the explosive release in the fanfare where the combined chorus blazed, underpinned by rumbling brass and percussion, evoking thunder, voices rising like the spirits of the dead. With dignity, for the dead will not go unvanquished.  Plaintive single instruments like cor, and the tenderness of the Lachrymosa.  Our sympathy is with humble human souls, now lost to death, the rising brass and percussion underlining depth of feeling.

The Domine and the Hostias mark a transition, like an Offertory in a Mass, when the host is consecrated, bringing God into the community, reminding believers why Jesus sacrificed for man.  The soloist is Frédéric Antoun, who's very impressive. A pity that Berlioz didn't give the tenor more to do, but the part, though relatively small, is critical : Antoun's voice rings out powerfully, above the hushed chorus, his timbre shining, as if surrounded by light.  On the video, Antoun is shown spotlit, standing alone, above the orchestra and choirs.  Now the Requiem enters its destination:  glorious Hosana, in excelcis, the chorus interacting like the pealing of bells, Antoun's voice ringing divinely. "Behold the Lamb of God", that's what the Agnus Dei means. Thus the hushed reverence in the choruses and the long, clear chords in the orchestra, with baleful undertones, penerating into the distance. Berlioz may not have been devout, but he knew that religion can be a form of theatre.  The conclusion isn't triumphalist, but comtemplative, like a reflection upon the miracle that has occured.  Heras-Casado's approach is deeply committed, strong minded and assured : very much cognizant of what a Grand Messe des Morts should be. 

Polish Independence BBC SO - Elgar Paderewski Szymański Lutosławski

Celebrating Polish Independence Day in advance, Paderewski, Szymański and Lutosławski with the BBC Symphony Orchestra conducted by Michał Nesterowicz at the Barbican and on  BBC R3. To start, Edward Elgar's Polonia  op76 (1915), a statement of hope, written at a time when Poland didn't yet exist except as part of the Austrian and Russian Empires. It blends themes from Chopin and Paderewski in a mix of grand orchestral music, mazurkas and marches with quotations from Mazurek Dąbrowskiego, the Warszawianka and other Polish patriotic songs. Though Polonia might not be Elgar premier cru, it's a showpiece, good for occasions like this, reminding  us that the  connections between Britain and Poland go back a long way. In this wave of post-Brexit racism, we must recognise that Poles are not "the enemy" but very much part of the community.  Thousands of Poles escaped to Britain, either from pogroms in Russia or from other suppression, after 1914, after 1939 and since the fall of the Iron Curtain. Polish immigrants are the biggest European minority in this country, and form the backbone of the economy in all sectors.  British music has been enriched by Poland, not just through greats like Chopin and Liszt but by the integration of composers like Szymanowski,  Lutosławski, Panufnik and others into the DNA of modern British performance practice.
Elgar's Polonia was dedicated to Ignacy Jan Paderewski so fittingly, it was followed by Paderewski's Piano Concerto in A minor op 17, premiered in 1889 by Hans Richter, who was close to Elgar and to Parry.  The soloist here was Janina Fialkowska.  A dramatic opening gives way to an allegro at times expansive and serene, the piano's rippling figures complemented by emphatic chords in the orchestra.  The second movement is romantic, with  lovely parts for violin and cello. The finale is rousing.  Like the composer himself,  it's appealing, though maybe not material for virtuosic celebrities. Like  Polonia it is a gesture which needs to be heard.
A meatier second half, with Paweł Szymański (b 1954) Fourteen Points-Woodrow Wilson Overture,and the biggest modern Polish composer of all, Witold Lutosławski.  Szymański's piece, a new commission, is a meditation on the ideas in Woodrow Wilson's visons of a newe age in the aftermath othe old order.  The 13th section refers to the creation of an independent Polish nation.  This music is not literal by any means, taking themes and re-arranging them in more open-ended ways.  It is thoughtful music, not showy, but rewards attention for those with minds open to possibilities.  A good opening for Lutosławski's Symphony no 1 which evolved gradually in stages in wartime conditions.  During this period the whole world seemed in upheaval. The symphony feels like a search, exploring new territory, the first movement tense and hostile, even though it's marked allegro guiosto.   Despite the circumstances in which it was created, the symphony is clasically shaped in four movements, the orchestration precise and beautifully detailed. An excellent performance from Michał Nesterowicz and the BBCSO.  (please see here for my piece on Lutosławski's Derwid songs)

Thomas Adès. LPO season opener : Stravinsky Adès Lutosławski

Continuing the London Philharmonic Orchestra's year-long Stravinsky series at the Royal Festival Hall, Thomas Adès conducted Stravinsky's Symphony in Three Movements,  Lutosławski Symphony no 3 and his own In Seven Days.  Adès has sometimes been a conductor who puts more into his own works, which is perhaps fair enough, but this was a superb Stravinsky - full of vigour, but perhaps even more pointedly, shaped with an understanding of the structure of the piece and how it works as a coherent whole. The Symphony in Three Movements  operates like a kaleidoscope, with quotes from other works, notanly the Rite of Spring, appearing, fragmentizing and re-surfacing in new combinations. As has been said many times, it's a bit like the cinematic use of collage, where different frames are put together to create a new whole. Stravinsky would have been well aware of Sergei Eisenstein, so it's perhaps no accident that snippets of music planned for use in the film of Franz Werfel's The Song of Bernadette  appear. In musical composition, collage creates impressionistic density, images proliferating in layers and patterns.  Stravinsky suggested that some images were inspired by war : hence the brutal, stomping march that evolves from the "primitivism" of the Rite of Spring, ritual now a force for destruction not regrowth. The inner movement is brief respite before savage, angular ostinato figues return.  One might, perhaps,  read into the piece insights into Stravinsky's predicament, looking back on his past and anxiously ahead, in exile, but the energy of this performance was such that it wholly convinced on its own terms.

This idea of music as collage continued with Adès's own In Seven Days, subtitled "piano concerto with moving image". Ten years ago, when it premiered with Nicholas Hodge and the London Sinfonietta, it was presented with video accompaniment by Adès's partner Tal Rosner, the visuals were given equal billing to the music, to the detriment of the music. Freed of the clumsy caricatures of the video, the piece revealed its true colours.  Bouncing, vibrant staccato and twirling traceries of woodwinds suggest freshness and light.  Passages where clusters of small, rapid notes evoked stars in the universe, perhaps, or city lights at night – it doesn’t matter either way as both catch the fragmented, flickering mood of the music.  A beautiful setting for Kirill Gerstein's rich, deep chords, rumbling at the lower register like some force of nature.  The brass and winds behind him provided another texture - long, rising lines - before the tiny fragments Gerstein played, each note cleanly defined and shining.  The title In Seven Days refers to the seven days of Creation. Each “day” represents a stage in the formation of the universe, though perhaps it’s best not to be too literal: the impression of a universe being created is what matters. Thus the rushing forces towards the middle section and the moment of mysterious calm which seemed to resonate into infinity.  Gerstein's playing in the final section was beautifully assured : no visual images are needed to evoke the sense of some magical dawn materializing in our imaginations.  A sudden, unexpected end, hinting at more to come. Visuals better suited to the music might help, but not the originals.

To my eternal regret, I turned down a chance to hear Witold Lutosławski conduct his Symphony no 3 in 1992, but fortunately it is now established canon and performed by other masters.  Adès has  high standards to meet, but this was very good.  For his publishers, the composer wrote "The work consists of two movements, preceded by a short introduction and followed by an epilogue and a coda. It is played without a break. The first movement comprises three episodes, of which the first is the fastest, the second slower and the third is the slowest. The basic tempo remains the same and the differences of speed are realised by the lengthening of the rhythmical units. Each episode is followed by a short, slow intermezzo. It is based on a group of toccata-like themes contrasting with a rather singing one: a series of differentiated tuttis leads to a climax of the whole work. Then comes the last movement, based on a slow singing theme and a sequence of short dramatic recitatives played by the string group. A short and very fast coda ends the piece."  But within that such originality !

Startling chords announce its arrival.  These form a sharp outline, containing  the individual instrumental groups in the orchestra which operate almost in free form between the punctuation points that hold them in. The woodwinds test and tease, strings tiptoe tentatively, celli tracing elliptical figures.  As the winds break out of formation, percussion attempts control, but the multiple voices in the orchestra remain irrepressible, even when trumpets scream like klaxons.  Zig zag figures, darting forth and flying free. The tension between forms seems to shape the piece as much as the forms themselves. Quieter passages heralded a change of direction : longer, more deliberate liness stretched out, tiny fragments of sound meeting loud chords : a cataclsym where bells and sirens screamed, and timpani thundred. I lovced the way the LPO played the riot (of sorts) that followed, fragments sharp yet sparkling, building up in force.  Towards the end an anthem seems to emerge, rising above and beyond. At last, the startling chords are stilled. 

Secret Lutosławski - Derwid Songs

Witold,Lutosławski Cabaret songs ! Derwid, Lutosławski's "concealed Portrait".  In the jpc.de sale, which often produces interesting things, I found this CD, originally recorded in a castle in Warsaw in 2004 but more recently re-released on Acte Préalable,  a leading label promoting Polish Music. I put it on without reading anything about it. Snare drums, bongos, tenor sax and piano ! 

Yes, "the" Witold Lutosławski  writing songs under the pseudonym Derwid for Polish radio between 1957 and 1963. A touch classier than commercial, pop, resembling the middle of the road  feelgood music that swept the world before  Rock and Roll and Teenage Rebellion.  The last vestiges of the old Lieder tradition, or dance band music, or even both  genres?   They aren't quite as sophisticated as semi-art songs  by poet/composers like Kosma and Prévert or Jacques Brel or Bob Dylan, but they are worth listening to.   Lutosławski's originals, written for voice and piano were apparently very simple, lending themselves to more elaborate orchestration. Orchestral versions were done for Polish Radio who recorded them with famous singers of the era.  This particular version, arranged by the pianist Krzysztof Herdzin translates them as semi-jazz with bluesy riffs -nothing too low down and dirty., because it wouldn't suit the period for which the songs were written.The singer, Mariusz Klimek, is classically trained and musically erudite, and  sings with fluidity and lyrical freedom, which I think suits the composer very well indeed. The songs come over with refreshing charm, the accompaniment adding a bit of exotic spice.   In Cold War Poland this might  have been plenty racy enough ! 

Some of these songs are good enough to stand on their own, as concert pieces.  Warszawski dorozkarz (Warsaw Taxi Driver) (1958) is atmospheric, with long curving lines: perhaps the guy spends a lot of time waiting for custom, observing the world around him. But when he gets a fare, he connects with people and has to rush.  Another good song, Nie oczekuje dzis nikogo (I haven't been waiting for you today (1959) is subtly understated.  It seems casual, even nonchalant, but the voice drops to near whisper, as if the feelings therein are too private to voice aloud. No translations. The singer is so clear that Polish speakers will, get every nuance. The rest iof us have to be sensitive and guess.  And Z lat dziecinnych (Childhood Days) (1962) carefree but nostalgic.   See this site for more details and other recordings.  Definitely an addition to the repertoire. 

Lutosławski, Panufnik "Polish" Prom 55 Warsaw Philharmonic

It's about time that the British government (or at least the BBC) recognised the role of Poles in British life. There are more Polish people in this country than any other foreign group. The economy would collapse without them. So it's good that this year's BBC Proms should acknowledge Polish music and even the Pole by adoption, Nigel Kennedy. But how little most of us really know about Poland and Polish culture! So do listen to the re broadcast of Prom 55 IN FULL. The discussions are exceptionally informative and intelligent, and some of it is entirely new. Listen to Roxanna Panufnik speak about her father (pictured here with Lutosławski, his great friend). She's refreshing because she's a musician and composer in her own right and more importantly, came to her father's music late. It's perfectly normal for people connected to some historic figure to deify them, but hagiography inhibits real appreciation. Roxanna Panufnik's good because she's objective (as far as possible) and Nicholas Raymond helps fill in the Polish cultural context. 

Listen especially to Andrezj Panufnik's Tragic Overture.(1942) and his Lullaby (1947 rev 1955).  At 7 minutes, the Tragic Overture is compressed but very intense. Quiet rumbling. Then the music rushes ferociously forward, whipped along by short blasts of brass and percussion and wailing, grotesquely deflating trombones. An implicit programme is embedded, based on snippets from anti-Nazi songs Panufnik wrote in secret.  Lullaby is even more innovative. It was first written while Panufnik was conducting in London, and was inspired by the sight of the moon, the "same moon shining over Poland, far away". Ethereal strings sing a sad tune, interspersed with single, twinkling notes against the long line. Yet listen to that legato, mysteriously "smeared" with half tones and strange textures. Not a soothing lullaby. It dissolves in a coda at once elusive, sinister and magical.

Panufnik, incidentally, helped found the Warsaw Philharmonic, so it felt right that we should hear this orchestra play his music at this high profile Prom, with Antoni Wit, who's stepping down as Music Director after over 10 years.  Perhaps the BBC wanted to add Shostakovich to the programme to broaden its appeal and "paint a vivid picture of two nations in parallel periods of anxiety", but Lutosławski and Panufnik are plenty interesting in their own right, and hardly "unknown". Wit and the Warsawers did a superb Szymanowski Third last year,. That would have required choir and soloist, but surely there might have been other Szymanowski to choose from?

Holst Lutoslawski Prom 32

Holst, Lutoslawski and Sexy Ed, BBC Proms 32 - what's not to like? The Planets may have brought the punters in, but it was Holst's lesser known  Egdon Heath and Lutoslawski that made this Prom a magical experience. Enjoy Gardner's lively Planets on i-player, but listen to the first part of Prom 32 for an even greater experience.

Lutoslawski's Symphonic Variations are astonishing. They sparkle with inventiveness, less "variations on  a theme" than an adventure in sound, exploring infinite possibilities, enlivened by wit and a sense of freedom. All condensed into the space of a few minutes, less than a movement in many symphonies. Astonishingly, Lutoslawski wrote this when he was only 23. It has the madcap verve of Britten's Simple Symphony (1934) but is far less buttoned down (and British).  The BBC shoves Lutoslawski into a straitjacket by pigeonholing him as Polish, but for once silly national boundaries make a bit of sense. This year we've had a lot of his music: Esa-Pekka Salonen, who knew the composer well, did an excellent retrospective with the Philharmonia at the South Bank (review here) and Simon Rattle has been doing Lutoslawski all year with the Bertliner Philharmoniker. Rattle also knew Lutoslawki personally and championed Szymanowski long before anyone else in this country. As for me, I missed hearing Lutoslawski himself conduct his Third Symphony in 1992 when the Newbury Festival was at its artistic peak. I've regretted it ever since.

While I listened to Holst's The Planets I kept thinking of Lutoslawski and Szymanowski, because they were voyagers in the most extravagant sense of the term.  Both set out on voyages of discovery where no-one had quite been before. Gustav Holst 's interest in eclectic subjects gave him the stimulus to be truly creative. He didn't do exotic just for show. We might not have The Planets at all if his horizons weren't "out of this world". So it was wonderful to hear his Egdon Heath sandwiched between Lutosklawski. Egdon Heath doesn't really exist. It's a state of mind, invented by Thomas Hardy to evoke a mysterious, elemental world where sturdy peasant yeoman live with the forces of nature, which are often malign. This Wessex is a blasted heath, with scrubland and sour soil. Nowadays Hardy Country is conurbation, acres of warehouses and tract housing. But one strange phenomenom still exists: the Blue Pool near Wareham, where chemical residues turn the water an unnatural, glowing shade. I digress, but it's relevant. Holst's Edgdon Heath seems still and calm but it teems with life. Edward Gardner's controlled poise works extremely well: the BBCSO murmur, hinting at things unseen. This, too, is a work that defies category. It's worlds away from the robust philistine spirit of the comfortable middle class of Middle England.  It also defies silly definitions of "modern" being a choice between tonal systems. It's amazingly modern in spirit, while connecting to possibly ancient mysteries. This painting of the Blue Pool was made in 1913 (Derwent Lees). Like Holst's Egdon Heath, it's way outside its time.

And Lutoslawski's Piano Concerto, with Louis Lortie, soloist? That was so magical that I can't find words to express how it made me feel. Listen for yourself. This Proms performance was even better than the recording because it felt so personal and direct. Listen for yourself and dream!

First Night of the BBC Proms 2013

The First Night of the BBC Proms 2013 marks the start of summer. At the Royal Albert Hall, Sakari Oramo, new Chief Conductor of the BBCSO, captured the sense of anticipation. Seldom does Benjamin Britten's Four Sea Interludes get a performance as vivacious as this.  And why not? We all know the piece and its origins in Peter Grimes. So it's good to hear it as a stand-alone celebration of the sea, of wide open horizons : freedom, exhilaration,  adventure. Of course we know what happens to Peter Grimes and his boys, and that the opera is grim. But for a moment we can think ourselves back to 1948 and feel the excitement. Peter Grimes was the "dawn" of modern British opera, and Oramo's bright, optimistic "Dawn" movement sparkled with hope and light. The high violins and flutes suggested soaring seagulls, and the lower strings and brass evoked the swell of the tides. The distinctive clarinet danced, like phosphoresence on waves. Then, woodwinds and brass suggested, well, "wind", stirring, heralding change. Grimes dies, but the sea renews itself with every wave and tide.

"In ceaseless motion comes and goes the tide Flowing it fills the channel broad and wide Then back to sea with strong majestic sweep It rolls in ebb yet terrible and deep".

Stephen Hough was the soloist in Rachmaninov's Variations on a Theme of Paginini. Hough is a Proms regular. I like the maturity of his playing, and his sense of assertiveness, qualities we value on an occasion like The First Night of the Proms. Hearing Rachmaninov after The Four Sea Interludes made me think of the many, fleeting moods of the sea. Hough's hands flew across they keyboard . In my imagination, images of change, energy and renewal. And perhaps, even the image of Paganini, the violinist, remade by Rachmaninov the pianist, and yet again by Witold Lutoslawski the composer. Lutoslawski's Variations  were new to me and thrilling. The familair basics are there,  but this time rejuvenated with a quirky, irreverent flamboyance. Paganini, who sold his soul to the Devil? Hough had been confident before : now he was almost demonic, pulling the orchestra in his wake.

For Ralph Vaughan Williams, A Sea Symphony marked more than a first symphony. (Note it's title "A" symphony, anticipating one of many). RVW lived in London and The Home Counties, unlike Britten who lived literally on the beach at Crag House in Aldeburgh. For RVW, the idea of the seas may have stimulated ideas of voyages of the imagination,  an expanded "Songs of Travel" for nearly 500 voices. It spurred – to use a bad pun – a sea change in his writing. He was making a transition from the safe world of Parry and Stanford into the great unknown. “Behold, the sea itself” could be an allegory for a young composer launching himself into uncharted waters.

RVW's  A Sea Symphony is an extravagant spectacular, ideally suited to the grand treatment it can get at the BBC Proms. A rousing, powerful performance. Roderick Williams sang the baritone part to perfection. His style is direct, almost conversational, yet carries thrust and authority without "period" ponderousness. If anything, he was even better in the quiet second movement "Alone on the Beach" than in the fairly truculent "public" first movement with its reference to imperial power. Even in the cavernous Royal Albert Hall, Williams could convey intimacy and colour. In the turbulent third movement, "The Waves", choirs came to the fore. Oramo's not a specially demonstrative conductor, but he could get the orchestra to deliver on a magnificent scale. You can hear why he was so popular with the CBSO in Birmingham during the Elgar centenary.

Oddly, the mystical final movement "The Explorers" evokes Elgar at his most spiritual. Solo violin, solo viola, solo horn, and Roderick Williams singing at the top of his register, quietly and with hushed reverence, awed by the power of God and of Nature. "O farther sail", Williams, the choirs and Sally Matthews the soprano repeat. The last chords of the orchestra fade slowly, suggesting distance and movement. We are on the way "Toward an Unknown Region".

As so often on The First Night of the Proms, the Prom opened with an extract from a larger work in progress by a leading British composer. This year, Julian Anderson's Harmony, a four minute choral work which may prove interesting on further hearing.

Here's a link to my Proms overview. Usually I listen to and write about 30- 40 Proms a season, so please come back for more.
And look at the SECRET TWINS - Roderick Williams and Benjamin Britten !
 photo:  Yuichi from Morioka, Japan

Mysterious Lutosławski Ravel Salonen Philharmonia

Esa-Pekka Salonen's Witold Lutosławski series at the Royal Festival Hall confirms his reputation as an authoritative Lutosławski interpreter. He knew the composer personally, but more importantly understands his idiom intuitively. In this superb concert, Salonen and the Philharmonia brought out the strange, intangible duality that makes Lutosławski's music so intriguing. Salonen's Philharmoinia series follows Simon Rattle's  Lutosławski series last year with the Berliner-Philharmoniker. Both conductors bring their own insights. Comparison is pointless. Salonen, however, has the edge because he stresses the elusive nature of the music. In this programme, he paired Lutosławski with Ravel with surprising results: Ravel has rarely sounded so magical.

Ravel Ma mère l'oye is best known as a ballet, but it's not necessarily episodic story telling. Instead of crude cartoon colours, Salonen and the Philharmonia produced luminous, gossamer-like textures infused with light.  If the tempi were a little slow, it was defined with real delicacy of touch, so it really did feel that the music was hovering in mid-air. This was Mother Goose for adults, with hints of hidden terrors.

In his extensive writings, Lutosławski said that we hear music in the context of our feelings. Salonen's Ravel thus created a mood from which Lutosławski 's Symphony no 4 (1988-92) flowed naturally. This symphony is short, but in 22 minutes it unfolds with the compactness of a much larger piece. Dark chords suggest foreboding. A solo clarinet appears, its bright textures luring us deeper into the piece. Strident strings suggest alarm, or danger : the pace quickens, pauses and returns with wild, driven legato. Strings like whips,  faced off by a solo trumpet, piano, and a trio of trombones.  Perhaps we are in some strange forest, where the flute flutters like an elusive woodbird.  The whole orchestra soars towards a wild climax, which suddenly disintegrates once more to solo clarinet and flute.  A short passage for small drum and percussion, oddly reminiscent of The Rite Of Spring and the music disappears, elusively. What might Lutosławski  be suggesting? Primed by Ravel,  I thought of Jean Cocteau's film  La Belle et la Bête.  Lutosławski's 4th is a Salonen speciality. He recorded it within months of the premiere. We were privileged indeed to hear him conduct it with the Philharmonia.

Matthias Goerne was the soloist in Lutosławski's Les espaces du sommeil (1975). This was written for Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, but Goerne is well on the way to putting his distinctive stamp on the piece.  The text is by Robert Desnos, the surrealist who died in Terezin. Lutosławski's setting has a hallucinatory quality. Extremes of pitch and volume unsettle any sense of repose. Fischer-Dieskau's voice has a lovely smoky quality on his recording, but Goerne's approach connects more deeply to the character of the music. "Dans le nuit....les forêts s'y heurtent confusément avec les créatures de légende  et cachées dans les fourrées." Goerne begins with a half whispered growl at the lower end of his register, blossoming forth into bright, clear colours that dissipate as soon as they're uttered.  Goerne makes us listen to the composer, rather than to the beauty of the singing per se. His voice is dignified, suggesting the hypnotic pulse of sleep, while his sharp diction reminds us that the mind is alert.  Les espaces du sommeil is a lovely piece but its true wonders lie in its mysteries. Protracted applause after this piece, and shouts of "Bravo!" which we don't often hear from staid RFH audiences.

Lutosławski's Chain 2: Dialogues for Violin and Orchestra (1984-85) is one of three otherwise unrelated pieces in which the composer explores the idea of a "chain" formed of interbraided links. It is almost more than straightforward concerto. In Chain 2, as Charles Bodman Rae writes in hisexcellent notes, "the strands are independent both melodically and harmonically, and their phrases begin and end in different places. The trick is in combining them into a coherent whole."  Jennifer Koh was the soloist, playing with great verve and freedom. Some passages reach such high tessitura that one thinks of Szymanowski, though that might not be deliberate on Lutosławski 's part. The two composers may be Polish, but they occupied very different worlds.

Salonen and the Philharmonia concluded with Ravel's La Valse. My companion had heard snippets of this as members of the orchestra were tuning. We wondered, surely they must know the work so well they hardly need to practise?  Perhaps the reason was that this wasn't any ordinary La Valse, but a much more unusual interpretation. This waltz sounds as if it were being heard through a dream, a dance recreated through the prism of memory and distance. Ravel himself described it as "an impression of a fantastic, fatal whirling motion"  Just as we'd heard Lutosławsk's Fourth through the prism of Ravel, we now hear Ravel through the prism of Lutosławski.  Mysterious, elusive and surreal. 
 
 Photo : Włodzimierz Pniewski & Lech Kowalski 1992

Mustard and Beefsteak - Rattle Lutosławski Brahms Prom 64

Berlin comes to London! The Berliner Philharmoniker 2012-13 season began on 24th August with a gala concert featuring Witold Lutosławski.and Johannes Brahms. (Read more HERE). The exact same programme at the BBC Proms, London on 31st August. Compare the two performances - the Berlin one on the Berliner Philharmoniker site and the London one on BBC Radio 3. The difference is striking!

In Berlin, the Berliners play in the Philharmonie, noted for its good acoustic, to a reverent audience for whom music and the Berliner music year are serious things indeed. In London, they're playing at the Royal Albert Hall with its dodgy acoustic but unmistakable party atmosphere. So in Berlin, exqusite, dedicated performances. And in London, cheerful good fun. Both approaches perfectly compatible, neither necessarily "better" than the other. You need to hear both performances. Orchestras tour these days and festivals feature the same items, but no two performances are ever really alike.

First a nice safe standard : Brahms Piano Concerto no 2 in B flat major, with Yefim Bronfman. No surprises, with a soloist this good and an orchestra who have the piece in their genes.  But was the Royal Albert Hall playing tricks? I kept hearing stamping noises behind, then realized that it wasn't someone in the audience but Bronfman himself, merrily stamping his feet as he played. The quirks of the RAH acoustic bounced the sound off the platform into the stalls. Since Bronfman's a musician in every way the extra percussion he contributed worked quite well in its own strange way. Perfection we can hear anytime, but sound effects like this are rare. Evidently, Bronfman was happy and conveyed his joie de vivre to the orchestra and to the audience (most of whom wouldn't have heard the secret extras) (it's almost certainly not audible on the BBC broadcast).

Fairly routine playing otherwise, but the Berliners are so good that even when they let their hair down (so to speak) they are still more interesting than anyone else. Besides, the compensation is seeing them all looking relaxed and laid back. This concerto is a big beast, the sort of thing that appeals to those who like their music as red meat, with gravy and a strong cigar. On the other hand, its finest moments are quieter and more piquant.

I use this metaphor deliberately, becuase in an interview Simon Rattle gave recently, he referred to a conversation he had with Lutosławski. "Usually I'm the mustard" said the composer, "in concerts full of beefsteak".  For a change, said Lutosławski, he wanted to be the beefsteak. And so Rattle and the Berliners delivered. While the Brahms performance was straightforward, for Lutosławski. the orchestra pulled out all the stops. Very detailed, precise playing. Multiple layers of sound yet never muddied or confused. Major focus on the twelve brass players, each with interesting parts, solo and together: they're ranged in a line for visual as well as aural impact. So much is going on in this 35-minute piece that conducting it must be like juggling. Each element seems to function with its own dynamic, manic but carefully marshalled. Dark meat but palateable and enough mustard to spice things up. Overall the effect is freewheeling though purposeful  energy. The Proms audience loved it, stomping their feet for more.

Between the revolution in Poland in 1989 and the composer's death in 1994, he conducted his own music in Britain, including  a performance of the Third Symphony at the then cuting edge Newbury Festival. To my regret I didn't go, thinking it might be "too difficult"for me.(though I had no trouble with Nono and Szymanowski). Yet Lutosławski is perfectly accessible, and even Cage influenced fun, (more here) as this Proms audience discovered. So even if you missed the Prom live, catch it on broadcast (the Berliner Philharmoniker version in perpetual archive).