Semyon Bychkov Czech Philharmonic Orchestra Prom : Smetana Tchaikovsky Shostakovich

Semyon Bychkov conducts the Czech Philharmonic - credit Marco Borggreve for the Czech Philharmonic

Just as the Second Night of the BBC Proms 2019 was the real First Night of the Proms in terms of musical quality, (Please read my review here),  Semyon Bychkov's Prom with the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra was probably the real Last Night of the Proms, since the official Last Night of the Prom is party time, when everyone has a good time, enjoying lighter fare, and so it should be !  But Bychkov and the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra reminded us that good music, well performed, represents the vision of Sir Henry Wood. The Last Night we know now only dates from Malcolm Sargent.

Bychkov's appointment as Chief Conductor of the Czech Philharmonic was unexpected, though it was clear that the government and the management wanted someone who would please the public, recording companies, foreign organizations and the Ministry of Culture. (Please read what I wrote at the time).  Given that the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra's reputation is based on its unique mastery of Czech repertoire, this signalled a departure.  Not without precedent : In 1991, Gerd Albrecht the then governement imposed on the orchestra, hoping that that would increase its international profile and sell more records. Though Albrecht was a very great conductor, the match was not made in heaven. Controversially, the orchestra was split into two. The Prague Philharmonia (PK) still thrives and is very good.  If the governemnt again wanted a big name and recording contracts, that's what they have with Bychkov. His advantage was that Decca sponsored Bychkov's Tchaikovsky Project, "Beloved Friends", which has been around for years. He conducted the Project with several different orchestras many times (including at the Barbican, a good series with Kiril Gerstein, but which somehow didn't sell despite massive advertising).  Bychkov took the Czech Phil on a highly publicized tour of The United States (with two stops in non-major venues in London and Vienna).  Not really an "international" tour.  Bychkov is good (though his WDR Köln were somewhat uneven) , but he's developed iunto a truly great conductor of repertoire closest to his heart -Tchaikovsky, for example, and Russian repertoire, and outstanding opera.

A wonderful performance, geared around Bychkov's strengths, the Czech Philharmonic playing with animated enthusiasm.  Acknowledging the orchestra's grand traditions, Bychkov started with extracts from Smetana's The Bartered Bride - the Overture and three of the dances : the opera in miniature. Wonderfully vivid,  bursting with energy. Though the plot is folkloristic, there's far more to the opera than pastoral kitsch . It's an explosion of  energy and high spirits  : the burgeoning of Spring and new growth (which is why marriage matters to peasants).  The lovers see off those who willl trade them off : they remain uncowed and independent.  Bychkov's tempi were fast, and he kept pushing, forcing  his players forward.   They are so good that they didn't miss a beat. Just as dancing is a physical workout, so should this music evolve.  The tension between punch and lyricism was suitably tight, emphatic timpani setting a strong pulse, from which the freedom  of the dance figures flew.  At moments the brass had an almost "alpine" atmosphere -  there are mountains in Bohemia, and the peasants are hardy.

With the Letter Scene from Tchaikovsky's Eugene Onegin, Bychkov was in home territory. In concert performance, the soloist Elena Stikhina was impressive enough, but the orchestra excelled.   Bychkov has conducted Tchaikovsky's Francesca da Rimini, with them in the past.

More core Bychkov repertoire with Shostakovich Symphony no 8 ("Stalingrad") Op  65 (1943) another very good performance, the orchestra playing with great alacrity : sharply defined staccato, drum rolls and brass fanfares, crashing cymbals, a forbidding hum in the strings. The cor anglais rose like a spectre, like smoke from the ruins of battle, ominous strings (celli, basses, later violins and violas) groaning in its aftermath.  The Allegretto and Allegro function as scherzos. In the first, impish figures screamed, and woodwinds rushed into manic dance. In the second, whirring sounds, pipes and pistons, evoking at once an infernal machine, yet also, perhaps a sly reference to the relentless state machinery of the Stalinist era - the worship of technology in Soviet Realism taken to extremes.  Hence the mock gaiety of the brass and percussion, in mimicry of  military parades. A restrained, but moving finale, the "hollow" nature of the brass reflecting the "machinery" that  had gone before.  Perhaps this will be a new direction for the Czech Philhramonic Orchestra. But pray that they don't lose what they do best of all, even if it's not "international-friendly".

Gloriously idiomatic ! Jakub Hrůša, Bamberg Symphoniker - Dvořák,Smetana Má vlast

Jakub Hrůša, Bmberger Symphoniker.  photo: Roger Thonas

The real First Night of the Proms 2019, for music lovers, Prom 2 with the Bamberger Symphoniker (Bamberg Symphonic Orchestra) conducted by Jakub Hrůša in Antonín Dvořák Violin concerto in A minor op 53 (1883), soloist Joshua Bell, and Bedřich Smetana Má vlast.  At the start of this year's Prague Spring Festival,  always opened with Má vlast - Hrůša led the Bambergers in a rousing performance at the Smetana Hall. Not all Má vlast have been performed on happy occasions.  (Please read more here). If troubled times loom over Europe again, we need to honour the power of music to express national identity in a healthy, non-belligerent form.  

"Bohemian Rhapsody" is a silly title, which trivializes the strong-minded individualism that has shaped Czech history and music. Dvořák's Violin concerto doesn't follow rules. An emphatic introduction from the orchestra, from which the soloist almost immediately takes equal command. Dvořák's themes are strongly defined - nothing timid here. The freedom of the violin line is thus built on firm foundations. The themes are endlessly varied, always inventive, always adventurous, The warmth of Bell's tone enhanced the sense of freshness. Thus the dumka theme in the Adagio felt  poignant, a reflection perhaps on things past, (complete with the calls of hunting horns), before the Finale, in which the energy of the first movement returned resurgent. Hrůša, the Bambergers and Bell captured the sense of perpetual momentum that so often surfaces in Dvořák and, indeed, much music influenced by folk idioms, shaped as they are by the change of seasons on rural life, and the sturdiness of peasant character.  Renewal, regrowth - might this be what Dvořák was "really" writing about ?

The Royal Albert Hall is far larger than the Smetana Hall in Prague, but this added dimensuon to the rich, dark timbre that's often been associated with the Bamberger Symphoniker. In his three years at the helm, Hrůša has restored the Bamberger's distinctive style. How wonderful it is to hear such inspirational, committed musicianship.  Every player is of such a high standard that even small details give pleasure. Hrůša sets the tone straight away with Vyšehrad, the bedrock on which Má vlast is built. This refers to the castle on an outcrop on the river, reputedly the original settlement of the Bohemian people. The harps, positioned in pair on opposite sides of the orchestra, to emphasize their different functions, sounded beautifully liquid, suggesting the flow of the river, the source of fertility and life. Their music also references the instrument of an ancient bard who, in legend, played on the river's edge.  As the pace picks up, the river reaches full flow, the Bambergers responding to Hrůša, playing with idiomatic ebullience. Pure-toned, rustling strings,  surging torrents in the orchestra, played almost at breakneck speed, but meticulously defined.

Though each of the six symphonic poems that form Má vlast are unique, Hrůša never let slip the sense of architecture that is essential for coherent performance.  In Vlatava, the flow is lighter, more transparent, suggesting that the river (for which read, the nation) is constantly refreshed from mountain sources, growing in strength and volume as they pass through the land. Horns are heard, evoking forests, mountains, a population living connected to Nature. forests. The suggestions of dance created a sense of circular, swirling movement.  Hrůša understands the purpose behind the turbulence Smetana builds into this music: dance is energy, a metaphor for life and growth. The section Šárka is mythic and Z českých luhů a hájů (From Bohemia's Woods and Fields) is descriptive, but in musical terms these serve to enrich the saga, much in the way that a river is fed from different streams and different sources.

In Tábor and Blaník, the depth of the Bamberg sound truly pays off.  The Bambergers may not be a Czech orchestra but with Hrůša, they understand what Má vlast means and why it matters, better than some. Tábor was a Hussite fortress, under siege and eventually defeated in violent massacres.  Thus the quiet, tense introduction, developed through brass and timpani, which grows bolder as the hymn emerges.  This is the Hussite anthem Ktož jsú boží bojovníci (Ye Who Are Warriors of God).  (Please read more here about Hrůša's perceptive views on the way the Hussite hymn has influenced Bohemian music ).  Massive, angular chords loom upwards, suggesting danger, and determined defiance.  The rocky fastness of Vyšehrad again, now called on in more danergous times. The Hussites may be no more, yet their spirit, like the spirit of the bard and of Šárka, remains steadfast.
As Tábor draws to a close, quieter chords glow, like embers in ash.  The buzz of strings and celli, intensified the sense of urgency,  rushing "footsteps" and angular chords, suggesting a population in upheaval, the horn and military pipes suggestions of war. 

In Blaník, there is a reference to St Wenceslaus, patron saint of Bohemia, who lived long before the Hussites, whom legend says. will return to save the nation in its hour of need.  Smetana was writing at a time when the Hapsburgs ruled: not quite as extreme asituation as 1938, 1948 or 1968, but still at a time of occupation.  Thus the riotous, lively finale suggests the spirit of freedom the river and its history represent will live again, joyful and revitalized. At the end, Hrůša shapes the majestic main theme again, so vividly that it seems that the spirit of the fortress in Vyšehrad stands eternally behind the Czech people, and indeed, all people who care about freedom and heritage. 
 
A demanding programme, and one which required almost superhuman stamina from the players as well as from the audience. But so worthwhile! Two encores, the Polka and the Furiant from Smetana's The Bartered Bride.  More circular dances ! not just because they're fun, but because they, too, show  the source of vigour from which Smetana drew inspiration.  This gloriously idiomatic  Prom 2 with Hrůša and the Bambergers is one that will live on in memory. 

 

Brain-free Smetana Die Verkaufte Braut - Bayerische Staatsoper

Bedřich Smetana Die verkaufte Braut (the Bartered Bride) livestreamed by the Bayerische Staatsoper.   German language versions of this opera have been around for over 100 years, andd some have been very good indeed.  So no reason to dismiss this on language grounds.  With a strong cast headed by Pavol Breslik, Günther Groissböck, Selene Zanetti and Wolfgang Ablinger-Sperrhacke this should have been a treat !  Deprived of real music during the Christmas-New Year season, I was so looking forward to this.  The singing was fine, especially the principals, and Tomáš Hanus is a good conductor.  But this was disappointing because of the production, directed by David Bösch.  This is the sort of vision-free mishmash that happens with the new fashion for performance that doesn't make us listen or think.  But it would give pleasure to those who take delight in knocking all productions on principle, without really engaging with what a production might have to say about the music. So we end up with the worst of worlds, a production that doesn't stimulate thought but reinforces non-thought. 
Nothing wrong with setting the scene in an industrial farm : that's the premise behind the opera, that people can be sold and bred like animals.  Those who think in such terms have ugly minds, so if the set was prettied up, it would only weaken the drama.  The key, I think, is to take the cue from the music - listen to that Overture ! Of course Smetana uses speech patterns and roughly "folk" allusion, but what makes the music work with the drama is its energy and vigour.  Farmers grow crops, they live in tune with Nature or they don't survive. Fertility means renewal : people get married to propagate.  Marie's love for Hans is natural genetic selection.  Hans, an outsider, represents hybrid vigour, while Wenzel's probably inbred.   Love and fidelity do matter, but   no smart farmer can ignore practical things. Hans turns out to be rich after all.  And fertility, in humans, means sex. hence the thrusting, spiky rhythms in the music and its bouncy liveliness.  Making the erotic elements in the opera more explicit would not bea mistake  , even if modern audiences aren't grown enough anymore to deal with it.  A really strong orchestral performance can create the right atmsphere. Hanus is good enough but wasn't really on fire.  I enjoyed listening to the main singers - Breslik's naturally sexy, Groissböck a born actor and Ablinger-Sperrhacke one of the finest character singers in the business.   But something is wrong when you get distracted by the live pig snuffling about in the background, presumably gobbling treats hidden in the clutter on stage.  Or maybe that's a metaphor for fashionable taste. 

Semyon Bychkov : Czech Philharmonic Orchestra international tour, London

Is the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra entering a new era ?  In London at the start of a new international tour,  Semyon Bychkov, new Chief Conductor, led the Czech Philharmonic in a concert featuring Smetana and Dvořák, with Alisa Weilerstein. This concert was very high profile indeed, attended by the great and the good, as if it were a state occasion, markingb the 100th anniversary of Independence. And indeed it was, since the Czech Philharmonic is unique, with a distinctive persona.  Part of the reason it is so unusual is because its traditions are rooted in Czech culture, from which Czech music has grown, as if language translates into music. The orchestra doesn't frequently tour : if you want to hear them other than on recordings or broadcast, you need to go to the Rudolfinium,  and absorb the whole context.  This, of course, isn't always practical,  and in a digital age, any orchestra's potential audience is world-wide.  So it's logical that the Czech Philharmonic should be reaching out.  Before Bychkov was appointed last year, the announcement stated that the choice would depend on "publiku, nahrávacím společnostem, zahraničním pořadatelům i k ministerstvu kultury".ie the public, recording companies, foreign organizations and The Ministry of Culture. Perfectly valid, since Czech culture and music is a vital part of world heritage.  The question is how this will affect the orchestra's core values and artistic soul. Whatever model the Czech Philharmonic adopts for its outreach should, accordingly, be individual, rather than borrowing from what might work for other orchestras. What we love about the Czech Philharmonic is the very fact that it is not polished or celebrity-focussed. The market should rise to its standards, not the other way around.

Britain embraced Czech music very early on. In 1884, Dvořák himself conducted his Stabat Mater and Symphony no 6 at the Three Choirs Festival. Janáček visited London in 1926, and re-dedicated his Sinfonietta in honour of Rosa Newmarch.  Only ten years later Vítězslava Kaprálová, aged only 22, was invited to London to conduct her own Military Sinfonietta with the BBC Symphony Orchestra, a work which pays direct homage to Janáček, at a time when Czechoslovakia was being threatened by the Nazi regime. The bonds between Czechslovakia and British culture grow deep.  So it was a surprise that the start of this tour should take place in the Duke's Hall at the Royal Academy of Music, with a capacity of only 350, rather than, say, the Royal Festival Hall which seats 3000.  In the US, the Czech Phil is playing Carnegie Hall.  Nonetheless it was an opportunity for students of the RAM to join the Czech Phil on stage and play together : symbolic and educational value, reflecting Bychkov's position as Professor of Conducting, which he takes so seriously that he's conducted the RAM orchestra at the RFH. Thus a suitably festive Overture to Bedřich Smetana's Bartered Bride joyously free.
Bychkov began the Czech Philharmonic's 2018-2019 season in Prague with Antonín Dvořák's Symphony no 7 in D minor op 70, paired with Luciano Berio's Sinfonia but for the start of this tour, complemented it with Dvořák's Cello Concerto in B minor, Op 104 with soloist Alisa Weilerstein, who shot to fame when Daniel Barenboim chose her when he returned to Elgar's Cello Concerto, so closely connected to Jacqueline du Pré.  She's more mature now, and brings that greater refinement to Dvořák : well shaped legato, at turns sensuous and demure, well integrated with the orchestra around her.  The orchestra, though, stole the show, playing with the distinctive timbre that is their trademark : horns that call and breathe without being brassy,  strings that swell and vibrate with genuine emotion, winds that sing as freshly as forces of Nature.  The Adagio seemed to glow, the restraint of the cello enriched by the fullness in the orchestra, but the Finale impressed because it was so thoughtfully shaped.  

A rewarding Dvořák Symphony no 7 in D minor op 70. Again, the characteristic richness and depth of the Czech Philharmoniuc came to the fore : the idiom is in their DNA so to speak. Thoughg this is sometimes called the "London" symphony its impulses are altogether more personal. Interpretation grows through an understanding of the composer and his work as a whole.  Thus the Allegro maestoso unfolded purposefully, its stately progress defined with assurance. Dark as this symphony may be, it's clear-sighted, the destination never in doubt.  A heartfelt coda.  The Hussite hymn theme echoed in the second movement was subtle. It doesn't need over-statement, but it informs the Scherzo that follows the lyrical moments between.  The motif that resembles dance wasn't frivolous, but an acknowledgement of the rondo-like tightness with which the symphony as a whole is constructed.    A very strong Finale, arrived at through an understanding of the structural logic.

Life-affirming Smetana Má vlast : Jiří Bělohlávek

Prague Spring Festivals have always had more than musical significance, since they commemorate Czech nationhood.  In 1948, and again in 1968, they had political meaning.  Smetana's Má vlast , perhaps the most powerful expression of Czech identity in music, has opened the Festival for 65 years. Thus, when Bělohlávek conducted it in 2014, it represented much more than an opening of a new season.  Bělohlávek had returned to the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra after the years of tension when he had been forced to resign. His passionate dedication to Czech repertoire helped restore the orchestra to its glories and to reaffirm the country's unique musical character.  Thus, in honour of Bělohlávek, who died suddenly in May 2017, Decca has released that legendary performance on C D, in pristine sound quality.  Bootlegs do exist, but they don't measure up.  But this release is a major event in terms of performance. It is outstanding, powerfully played and inspired by truly intense passionate commitment.

Smetana's  Má vlast has inspired numerous good recordings, so many that comparisons would be invidious.  It is such a remarkable piece that it repays serious listening, over and over again.  Like so many before him, Bělohlávek conducted Má vlast many times during his career, but  only the Supraphon recording from 1990 has been
commercially available. This new recording outclasses that, treasured as it will remain.  But recordings are only snapshots in time, and time moves on.   This recording thus captures an important moment in Bělohlávek's fertile later career, and in the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra's heritage.

The Vlatava is landscape, yet also a metaphor for Bohemian history.  The first movement of Má vlast is titled Vyšehrad referring to the ancient castle on an outcrop on the river, reputedly the original Bohemian settlement.  On this recording, the harps are played with particular lustre, beautifully lucid yet also firm and assertive, an important detail, since they represent an ancient bard, who lives on in the spirit of music.  The settlement still exists (Smetana is buried there) but time, like the river, moves onwards. Thus the harps also suggest flowing waters. By the time we reach the second movement Vlatava, the river is in full flow, constantly refreshed from mountain sources, growing in strength and volume as they pass through the land.  Horns are heard, evoking the past, and forests, and suggestions of dance, evoking not only folk tradition but also a sense of circular, swirling movement.  Hence the liquid pace  Bělohlávek achieves, energetic but graceful, and the repeating flourishes, leading to the expansive section, then slowing down then rising again, refreshed, significantly, by the harps.

The movement Šárka is mythic and Z českých luhů a hájů (From Bohemia's Woods and Fields) descriptive, but in musical terms these serve to enrich the overall shape of the saga, much in the way that a river is fed from different streams and different sources.  Here the orchestra bristles with character. The triumphant march-like figures capture the defiant, amazon-like  spirit of the  female goddess, who will not be conquered.  Note the moaning bassoons, trombones and winds.  Bělohlávek defines the clean textures of the fourth movement with naturalness and ease, so when the horns announce the expansiveness in the middle section, the affirmation feels vigorous, but without malevolence. This prepares us for the darkness in the next movements,Tábor and Blaník.

Tábor was a Hussite fortress, under seige and eventually defeated in violent massacres.  Thus the quiet, tense introduction, developed through brass and timpani, which grows bolder as the hymn emerges.  This is the Hussite anthem Ktož jsú boží bojovníci (Ye Who Are Warriors of God).  Massive, angular chords loom upwards, suggesting danger, and determined defiance.  The rocky fastness of Vyšehrad in even more turbulent times. The Hussites may be no more, yet their spirit, like the spirit of the bard and of Šárka, remains steadfast. Bělohlávek builds up a firm structure, so the hymn theme emerges fragile but undefeated, faith representing the spirit of freedom. As the movement draws to a close, quieter chords glow, like embers in ash.  Delicious celli and strings, and a climax that's taken up, resurgent in the final movement Blaník.We still hear the rushing "footsteps" of the angular chords, but the mood here is quieter and more serene, as if something more eternal  exists half hidden from hearing.  The reference is to St Wenceslaus, patron saint of Bohemia, who lived long before the Hussites, whom legend says will return to save the nation in its hour of need.   Smetana was writing at a time when the Hapsburgs ruled: not quite as extreme a situation as 1938,1948 or 1968, but still a time of occupation.  Má vlast is inextricably linked to cultural context, but it also works in purely musical terms. As the riotous, lively finale suggests, the spirit of freedom the river and its history represent will live again, joyful and revitalized.

Hussite Hymns - Jakub Hrůša Bohemian Prom

At Prom 56, Jakub Hrůša conducted the BBC Symphony Orchestra in a programme on the theme of the Hussite Wars and their place in Bohemian culture - Smetana, Martinů, Dvořák, Janáček and Josef Suk. Pity the BBC publicity machine branded this  "The Bohemian Reformation", like Nigel Farage squealing "Independence Day" as if the fate of the nation was a movie.  The Hussite movement happened started a hundred years before the Luther Reformation. They were wiped out.  Jan Hus (1369-1416) was burnt at the stake and the religious ideas he espoused largely forgotten. But the movement became a cultural symbol, adapted to the growth of Czech identity. Hrůša's programme was much more than tub-thumping nationalism.  In any case, there's a lot more to national heritage than bombastic bullying. Hrůša's Prom was a sophisticated, musically literate  study of specific themes in Bohemian music history, and needs to be appreciated in musical terms.

Hrůša started with the Hussite hymn Ktož jsú boží bojovníci (Ye Who Are Warriors of God), the men of the BBC Singers singing without accompaniment.  Though we rarely hear the hymn as hymn, its tune is familiar.  Smetana used it in Má vlast, quoting it in the section Tábor which we heard here, the town of Tábor being a Hussite fortress.  Thus the quiet, tense introduction, developed through brass and timpani, which grows bolder as the hymn emerges.  Triumphant climaxes and the hymn theme surges. But as we know, the Hussites were annihilated.  Thus Blaník depicts the even earlier legend that St Wenceslaus, patron saint of Bohemia, will return to defend the nation.  Smetana, writing at a time when Bohemia was ruled by the Hapsburgs, drew connections between the tenth-century saint and the Hussites. The strong angular themes in Tábor return in even greater glory in Blaník: massive drum rolls and crashing cymbals

In 1938, Czechoslovakia was annexed by Germany, with the implicit approval of Britain.  Bohuslav Martinů's Polní mše, H. 279 Field Mass (1939) was written for Czech exiles fighting with the French against the Germans. Thus the strange instrumentation, with brass and percussion employed to suggest the idea of performance in battlefield conditions.  Drum rolls, marching rhythms,  trumpet calls and a chorus of male voices. But also piano and harmonium and a part for baritone soloist beyond the scope of an average amateur.  Fortunately, in Svatopluk Sem, we heard one of the most distinctive voices in the repertoire. Sem is a stalwart of the National Theatre in Prague, well known to British audiences for his work with Jiří Bělohlávek who transformed the way Czech music is heard in this country.  Sem delivered with great authority, imbuing the words with almost biblical portent.  His text is based on poetry by Jiří Mucha, who was soon to marry Vítezslava Kaprálová. (please read more about her here  Her Military Sinfonietta (1937) would have worked well in this programme, though it doesn't include a part for choir.

In Martinů's Field Mass, the choir acts as foil to the soloist, voices in hushed unison, mass (in every sense) supporting the individual.  Though their music is relatively straightforward Miserere, Kyrie and psalm, this simplicity enhances the idea of mutual support, reflecting the relationship betweenpiano with harmonium, voices and soloists surrounded by atmospheric percussion and brass.  The version we heard at this Prom is the new edition by Paul Wingfield.

Somewhat less spartan instrumentation for Dvořák's Hussite Overture O67 (1883) though the hymn-like purity of the anthem  rings through clearly. The rough hewn faith of the Hussites doesn't support exaggeration.  Full crescendos and running figures, (piccolo and flutes) flying free from the fierce "hammerblows"of the hymn.  A glowing finale, from the BBC SO in full flow.   The pounding rhythms of  the Hussite hymn come to the fore in the Song of the Hussites  from The Excursions of Mr. Brouček to the Moon and to the 15th Century   Here the reference to the hymn is used for satire, contrasting the  morality of the Hussites with the depravity of modern life, represented by the feckless, drunken Mr Brouček. To conclude this huge, ambitious programme,

Josef Suk's Prague op 26 (1904), in a tribute to Jiří Bělohlávek who made the BBC SO one of the finest Czech orchestras outside Czechia.  (Please read my tribute to  Bělohlávek with many links to his London performances of Czech repertoire. ).The same goes for the BBC Singers who sing Czech pretty well.  The piece was written at a dark time in Suk's life, after the death of his wife Ottilie and father-in-law Antonin Dvořàk. It connects to Suk's Asrael Symphony (op 27, 1905)  and even to The Ripening ( op 34, 1912-7).  All three pieces deal with death, made almost bearable by faith, despite extreme grief.In Suk's Prague, the Hussite hymn makes an appearance as a symbol of something that lives on beyond temporal restraints., Suk seems to be surveying the city he loved, contrasting its history of struggle with his present.  Perhaps, as he looked out on the castle, cathedral and the Rudolfinium, he could position his sorrow in a wider context. People die, but cultures remain.   That's why I feel so strongly that the term "Bohemian Reformation" is a crock. There''s a lot more to heritage than simplistic nationalism.  Hrůša conducted Suk's Prague with such intensity, that the performance eclipsed all else in an evening filled with high points. 

Jakub Hrůša's belated Proms debut but he is one of the most exciting conductors around, full of character and individuality.  Though he's young, he's extremely experienced, and at a high level. In the UK, he's conducted at Glyndebourne and with the BBC SO and the Philharmonia, where he becomes Chief Guest Conductor next season.  He is a natural in Czech repertoire, and a possible successor to Bělohlávek, whose memorial he conducted in Prague, but he's also very good in other material. Definitely a conductor to follow. 

Please also read my article Smetana's role in the modernization of China   and many other posts on Czech repertoire, film etc.

Jiří Bělohlávek : tribute to the innovator and to the man

Jiří Bělohlávek, conducting Dvořák's Requiem in Prague, April, 2017

Jiří Bělohlávek died last night. He was only 71,  but such was his stature that his death feels like the end of an era. Indeed, he transformed the whole way Czech music is heard, and revealed the treasures of Czech repertoire to the world.  He was also a gentleman, with charisma and integrity.  Even though he didn't speak much English when he was appointed as Chief Conductor of the BBC Symphony Orchestra in 2005, he communicated his enthusiasm so effectively the BBC SO grew close to him.  As Chief of the BBC SO,  he had to give the traditional speech at the Last Night of the Proms., which he did three times. At first, he read from a script, but by 2012, he was so "at home" that he joked, ad libbed and interacted with the audience, like we were all part of a family. In retrospect, he seemed unwell, even then.

In the intervening years, Bělohlávek's bouffant mane disappeared, and he grew thin.  His pugnacious body language  gave way to frailty.  Yet his travails seemed to galvanize his musicianship.  On April 13th this year, he conducted Dvořák's Requiem with the BBC SO at the Barbican (read my review here).  He seemed fatigued, perhaps because he'd conducted it in Prague a few days before.  Yet he  was putting very deep feeling into the performance, so much so that the intensity was almost too hard to take.  Emotional truth is sometimes hard to take. Once the immediate impact  subsided I kept thinking and thinking about the music itself, and its meaning. That, not technical polish nor received tradition, is the sign of a truly great artist.  Everyone knows the recording with Karel Ancerl, but Bělohlávek reached into the true soul of the music   Last week, one of my friends had a presentiment  and checked Bělohlávek's schedule, to find that he'd cancelled concerts in May.  So perhaps that Dvořák's Requiem was Bělohlávek's farewell, though no-one quite expected it, a farewell to his two favourite orchestras and to audience who had grown to love him as if he were a personal friend. 

Through him, the BBC SO, the Barbican and London connected with the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra and with the National Theatre of Prague.  Bělohlávek reintroduced Czech opera and vocal music to Britain in Czech, revealing the pugnacious, vibrant quality of the original language, so essential to proper, idiomatic performance. This matters, since Britain was receptive to Czech music very early on.  Dvořák and Janáček wrote masterpieces for British audiences. Even Kaprálová premiered her work in London, where her friend and colleague Rafael Kubelik conducted at the Royal Opera House.  Britain discovered Czech music long before Mackerras, and rediscovered it again with  Bělohlávek  Who knows what might have happened had the communists not taken Czechoslovakia, forcing Kubelik into exile?  Read more HERE about  Bělohlávek's early career. Though Bělohlávek was assistant  to Vaclav Neumann, in many ways he was Kubelik's true heir. And Ancerl's, too, for that matter.

For more detail about a fraction of Bělohlávek's concerts in recent years 

Autumn Elegy: Mahler Das Lied von der Erde
Janáček : The Makropulos Affair Prom
Janáček Jenůfa Royal Festival Hall
Czech Philharmonic 120th anniversary concert, Prague
Smetana Dalibor : BBCSO Barbican
Dvořák The Jacobin 2012
Janáček Glagolitic Mass Prom
Mahler 8
Martinů Juliette, Magdalena Kožená
Janáček  : The Excursions of Mr Brouček
Janáček : Osud

Má vlast and China : Smetana's role in the modernization of China

Smetana's Má vlast was inspired by images of Bohemia, its landscape, and its history. It's much more than a "scenic route" . The original images may be specific to Bohemia, referring to the Hussite uprising, but, translated into abstract music, they convey deep, universal emotions, which transcend place and time.  Thus Má vlast was one of the most popular pieces of music in China.  It expressed the same feelings of national identity that were so critical to the modernization of China. Just as the Vltava flows through Bohemia, the Yellow River (the Huang He) flows through China.  Chinese civilization began on the fertile basin beside the river, rather like Egyptian culture flourished around the Nile. Yet the river twists in a strange course causing catastrophic floods. "China's sorrow", at once the source of prosperity and suffering.  Further south, the Yangtze flows through central China, from the Himalayas to Shanghai, with an equally great impact on the development of China.

The Huang He symbolizes Chinese identity: hard working, enterprising, resilient, undaunted by encroachments and hardship.  So it's perhaps no surprise that Má vlast meant so much to Chinese people. In the early Republic, especially after the May Fourth Movement, education drove modernization.  Chinese intellectuals believed that change came through changing hearts and minds, by education, learning and the arts. Even the Communists espoused this ideal, until the grotesque upheaval of the Cultural Revolution. Considering that China had to break from over 4000 years of feudalism, it's quite amazing how much has changed since 1911.  Although no-one has collected all concert programmes and broadcast data, anecdotally, Má vlast had a huge impact on the modernization of China. Listeners who might have no idea of Prague could connect to its surging emotions and visualize rivers closer to home.  

The popularity of Má vlast  led also to the popularity of other Smetana works.  The Bartered Bride, for example, was allegedly the most performed western opera in China.  When I was a kid, I thought it "was" Chinese though it wasn't Chinese music.  I'm old enough, too,  to remember when arranged marriages were still common, . Such is the universal power of music that it can reach millions of people as long as it captures their imagination. That's what's wrong about current music education in the UK: it doesn't deal with imagination or with the human soul.   

Please read my review of Dalibor at the Barbican HERE 

and my article Yellow River Cantata

Smetana Dalibor Barbican Bělohlávek

Jiří Bělohlávek's annual Czech opera series at the Barbican, London, with the BBC SO continiued  with Bedřich Smetana's Dalibor.  Bělohlávek has done more than anyone to bring authentic Czech music to Britain, and to the BBC Symphony Orchestra, where he was Chief Conductor for many years.  They've got the idiom under their skin, now, and for Bělohlávek they played with expressive vigour. Smetana has been called "The Father of Czech Music", for he was the first to embrace characteristic Czech folk style, fused with the bright, sharp syntax of the Czech language. Dalibor is a particularly important milestone, since it's explicitly nationalistic.  though disguised as folklore. The Hapsburgs ruled Bohemia from Vienna, and after 1848 clamped down on what they saw as sedition.  Dalibor took part in an uprising, destroying a castle and killing the burgrave. Although Smetana downplays the politics (to escape the censors) the message of Dalibor is loud and clear: Czechs love music, and with music they shall triumph over repression.

Dalibor is a hero: "Dalibor! Dalibor" the chorus (the BBC Singers) rings out with fervour, picked up wordlessly by the orchestra throughout the opera. Jitka, a country girl (Alžběta Poláčková) tells us how he saved her as an orphan. Already though, we have a hint of his otherworldly purity. She sings as though she's describing a saint.  Wonderful "processional" music marks the entry of Vladislav, the Czech King (Ivan Kusnjer). Bělohlávek has been bringing the top singers from the Prague  National Theatre, which he's been conducting for years, so these singers are now greeted in London as if they were familiar friends.  Besides, they can sing Czech repertoire better than anyone else. Kusnjer's voice rang with dignity. Like Pontius Pilate, this King doesn't want to kill, but  Milada the Burgrave's sister wants revenge.

Dana Burešova sang Milada. She's another much-loved regular visitor.  She sang the female lead in The Jacobin, The Bartered Bride and most of Bělohlávek's other London performances of Czech opera.  Milada is a forceful lady, and Burešova's magnificent singing does her justice. The part calls for great vocal control, for the lines ring out with the intensity of a trumpet call, though  Milada's femininity is underlined by lustrous harp. Later Milada disguises herself as a harp-playing minstrel to charm her way into the prison.

Dalibor himself (Richard Samek) is more of an enigma. He killed the Burgrave because the Burgrave killed his friend Zdenek, who doesn't appear in the opera, but lingers, ghost-like, in the strings. Zdenek was a violinist, and Dalibor's love for him is so great that he'd rather be dead than live without him. Nonetheless, when he meets Milada, his love suddenly switches to her (on Zdenek's musical messages). Dalibor's a violinist, too. We don't hear him play but we hear the violins in the orchestra surround him in a halo of sound.  The smooth legato in his part suggests a bow gliding over strings.  Beneš the jailer ( Jan Stava), also a violinist, lets him have his old instrument to pass the time, which Milada delivers. The violin is thus the means by which Dalibor could escape from the dungeon. If he wished, of course, because he doesn't. When he's caught by Budivoj (Svatopluc Sem, another regular)  and told he's to be executed, he's meekly accepting. Perhaps he knows that his real secret weapon isn't his life but his music.

"We Czechs love music" the text explicitly states, so the whole opera is a coded protest, though the Hapsburg Empire ended only with the end of the First World War. Dalibor is wildly popular in Czech-speaking areas but the message is universal. When Gustav Mahler conducted Dalibor in Vienna in 1892, he may also have been making a private statement.  Mahler was a boy from small town Bohemia, where his father had followed the same profession as Smetana's father had done nearly 100 years before. Unlike Smetana, Mahler made it to the capital of the Hapsburg empire, chosen and protected by the Emperor himself.  Much is made of Mahler's use of Ländler, reflecting the sounds he would have grown up with in a German-speaking area in the provinces.  Mahler had been writing since his teens on themes connected to Des Knaben Wunderhorn, even writing his own poems. Almost certainly he would have been aware of Smetana  In Dalibor, for example, Jitka and Vitek (Aleš Voráček) sing a love duet which could come straight out of Wunderhorn, though it's clearly Czech. Dalibor is clearly inspired by Beethoven Fidelio, although musically it's very different. But might Mahler have thought of Dalibor when he wrote Das  Lied des Verfolgten im Turm with its passionate refrain,  "Die Gedanken sind frei! "

Photos: Roger Thomas

Bedřich Smetana Dalibor - and Mahler

"Dalibor ! Dalibor! " sing the impassioned chorus.   Bedřich Smetana: Dalibor at the Barbican on 2/5 conducted by Jiří Bělohlávek promises to be one of the special events of the year. Dalibor marks the beginnings of Czech identity.  Bělohlávek is bringing the pick of singers from the Prague State Opera.  Kenneth Richardson is directing. Bělohlávek and Richardson created magic with Dvořák's The Jacobin, Janáček: The Excursions of Mr Brouček, Smetana's Bartered Bride and much else.

While The Bartered Bride is a good-natured celebration of folk tradition, Dalibor is explicitly political. The original Dalibor was a Bohemian knight, who rose up against foreign invaders and was executed in 1498, but became a symbol of resistance. The relevance to Czech lands under Austrian rule is obvious. Smetana took part in the uprisings of 1848. though he was not prominent enough to have been arrested.  Indeed, he addressed the issue of foreign occupation in his first opera, The Brandenburgs in Bohemia (1862).  He had grown up speaking German because his father had become a successful businessman (though illiterate until middle age!), adopting the German language and German culture because Czech was considered lower class. So the libretto for Dalibor was patriotic, though it was originally written in German by Jozef Wenig, then translated into Czech.

The thematic links between Dalibor and Beethoven Fidelio are fairly obvious. Both Dalibor and Florestan are heroes against oppression. Legend has it that .Dalibor was  imprisoned in the Black Tower at Prague Castle (see photo). Like Florestan, Dalibor is an idealized figure, loosely sketched. Brian Large, author of what is still the key Smetana biography, and the founder of modern filming of music), makes a point about the Italianate "Bellini-esque" music around the character, in contrast to the much more vigorous music around Milada, who sacrifices herself to try to save Dalibor. Milada  is a latter-day Leonore, much stronger and more forceful than the man she loves. Interestingly, Milada, despite her Czech name, would have been one of the oppressors, since Dalibor killed her brother. While Beethoven encases his music with spoken dialogue and philosophy. Smetana, ever a man of the theatre, does straight opera,  As Large noted, the prisoners in Fidelio greet the sun and sing about its redemptive power, while the crowds in Dalibor sing "Dalibor!"  Smetana's ending is also more realistic. Dalibor doesn't save hios country, at least not for 500 years. , Milada dies. Photo above shows Marie Podvalová as  Milada in a 1955 Prague production.

The initial reception of Dalibor was negative, thanks to a hostile press who didn't like new music.  At that time, Wagner was the bogey man of new music, so Dalibor was condemned as being "too Wagnerian" . In fact,  the Wagnerian connections aren't that strong, apart from generic heroism and the idea of a sister mourning the loss of her brother. To modern ears, Dalibor sounds like, well, Smetana, because we've heard so much of him since, and of Dvořák.and Janáček.  When Gustav Mahler introduced Dalibor to Vienna in 1892, eight years after Smetana's death, it was hailed by Wagner's old arch enemy Eduard Hanslick, no less, as innovative new work.  And so the circle turns.....  ,  Mahler was a boy from small town Bohemia, where his father had followed the same profession as Smetana's father had done nearly 100 years before. Unlike Smetana, Mahler made it to the capital of the Hapsburg empire, chosen and protected by the Emperor himself.  Much is made of Mahler's use of Ländler, reflecting the sounds he would have grown up with in a German-speaking area in the provinces. But might he himself , familiar with the modern music of his time, have also imbibed of Smetana?

Terezin Theresienstadt Nash Holzmair Wigmore Hall

Is this an ordinary family making music? Look closely. Dad and the little girl are wearing  yellow stars. This is a drawing from Terezin Theresienstadt, by Helga Weissova-Hoskova, who was a teenager then. She survived and was at the Wigmore Hall for the Nash Ensemble's tribute last weekend.

Lots of people had come in from Israel and the Czech Republic. But the music of Theresienstadt speaks for everyone, because it shows how people can be creative in the most adverse situations, and that art has value, against all odds. That's why its significance resonates for all humanity.

Because camp conditions were strained, no huge Wagnerian orchestral extravagance. Instead, focus on chamber musi, song, things that ordinary people can do. Ilse Weber's poems and songs are loved because they are so simple and down to earth. They weren't meant to be fancy High Art but they  are moving because of their context. Terezin-Lied came from Emmerich Kálmán's hit operetta Countess Maritza,. Everyone knew the tune, so changing the words gave it another level of meaning. Trained voices not needed, everyone could sing along together.

Wolfgang Holzmair's song grained voice suited the songs he chose for this concert, which included Carlo Sigmund Taube's Ein jüdisches Kind, Zigmund Schul's Die Nicht-gewesen and Viktor Ullmann's Drei Lieder op 37.  Taube's song is gentle, but haunting: Ullmann's songs more barbed. Holzmair's diction sharpened well for Der Schweizer, savage satire on the Swiss Guards and the Pope. The original poem  was written in the late 19th century by Conrad Ferdnand Meyer, a Swiss radical. Another pointed adaptation.

The Nash played Gideon Klein's String Trio, written in camp in 1944. Perhaps this is the piece being played in Helga Weissova-Hoskova's drawing? It doesn't matter, but the thought gives the music extra poignancy. Klein's music is so elegant that it's good to hear whatever the context, but on this occasion, the connotations did take on extra meaning, and rightly so. Holzmair sang Klein's song in the encore. including the wonderful Lullaby.
  
Hans Krása's Brundibar is famous all over the world these days, performed in many languages. At the Wigmore Hall, in the presence of people who took part in the original performances, it was unique. The Nash  played two Hans Krása works for string trio, the Passacaglia and Fuga, and Tanec, so Brundibar can be appreciated in the wider context of the composer's work.


The Nash Ensemble came out in full force for the second evening concert, which placed Terezin music in the wider context of Czech music. Here, too, adaptation and renewal. Smetana's Overture to the Bartered Bride, but in a new arrangemnt by David Matthews (who was at Aldeburgh the previous day).  You can see a a film of the opera on this site HERE, in full, It's quite unusual, because it was made in the UFA studios in Germany during the Third Reich but features Czech singers and looks like it may have been filmed in Bohemia. It's in German, which is no big deal, as opera was frequently sung in different langauges in the past, but it does make you wonder about what was going on in UFA despite the official Nazi control..
 
Then Petr Pokorny's arrangement of Krása's Brundibar for 13 instruments. Although the opera is worth hearing because it's such a good piece for children's voices, hearing the Suite highlights the composer's orchestration. As music it works well, especially when performed by top notch musicians, which isn't always the case with the opera. 

For me the high point of the evening was Erwin Schulhoff's Duo for violin and Cello. Schulhoff wasn't in Terezin. He was a Communist and non-religious, which made him an outsider both in Nazi Germany and in Czechslovakia.  The Duo dates from 1925. It's quite remarkable. Its starts with brio, hurtling incisively into the first theme: no messing about. The violin (Marianne Thorsen) flows a long melody at the upper ends of the range: exquiste. The cello (Paul Watkins) listens, pauses, then repeats the melody in  a lower timbre. The second movement is a Zingaresca, gypsy dancing, but muted, a nostalgic memeory rather than a dancer in the here and now. The Andantino's edgy, decidedly modern. Strings plucked, jerkil : folk music this is not, despite the references. The final movement, marked Moderato, sounds almost pentatonic, alien to the Austro-German tradition. Part way it breaks off in false ending, then resumes, brighter and firmer.

Ian Brown played Viktor Ullmann's Piano Sonata no 6, writtten in Terezin, and Holzmair returned to sing Krása's Three Songs and Pavel Haas's Four Songs on Chinese Poetry.  Enjoy these and more on his CD, reviewed HERE.on this site, where there's plenty more Theresienstadt and suppressed music. The second evening concert is being broadcast on  BBC Radio 3 on Monday 5 July and will be available on line on demand for a week.

Die verkaüfte Braut - full movie download

Not quite Smetana's The Bartered Bride but frei nach Smetana, a movie adaptation by Max Ophüls. This was one of his earliest films, made in 1932. Note date : being Jewish he was forced into exile soon after, so the film didn't get the distribution it should have had. (and all those Czechs in it - though Czech actresses were something Goebbels wasn't hardline on or maybe that's not quite the right word). Plenty of peasant costumes and footage of horse and cart riding, filmed at a time when people still rode horses and carts - an authentic touch. Although it's made as a German film, the stars include the Czech singer Jarmila Novotná who plays Marie (Mařenka) and the German baritone Willi Domgraf-Fassbaender as Hans (Jeník). Not that they have much to sing : this is a film, not a filmed opera.

Watch out for the scene where the real bear escapes ! Can't do that in an opera house. Please note, film can be viewed fullscreen.