Terfel Keenlyside Wigmore Hall Opening Gala brilliant programme

The Wigmore Hall 2013/14 season started in exuberant style. Simon Keenlyside, Bryn Terfel and Malcolm Martineau devised a programme that was festive and fun. And, this being the Wigmore Hall, the recital was as erudite as it was popular   The two singers were enjoying themselves, teasing and challenging each other. Seldom do concerts, especially Gala Recitals, feel as natural as private performance.

The programme was extremely well chosen, for it showcased narrative song, a sub-genre of Lieder. It was ideally suited to the occasion, and to Terfel and Keenlyside, whose opera backgrounds mean they can sing stories with vivid élan.


Keenlyside wasn't well, and needed copious liquid succour - he finished a jug of water - but being a true trouper, he turned his difficulty to advantage in his performance. "Durst,Wassersheu, ungleich Geblüt!", he growled in Hugo Wolf's Zur Warnung. So we laughed with him, not at him, as he depicted the poet's Muse's "schmöden Bafel", the lines lurching as though through a drunken haze. That's the sign of a real professional, whose artistry overcomes all. 

Terfel sang Robert Schumann Belsazar op 57 (1840). More drunkenness! This time the mighty King of Babylon blasphemes and is brought down by Jehovah. Heine's version of Belshazzar's Feast is pithy, and the drama unfolds in the space of a few minutes. It's dramatic stuff. Terfel, being a natural stage animal, intones the text with slow deliberation, each syllable kept distinct. "Buchstaben von feuer, und Schreib, und schwand". You can almost see the mysterious hand writing slowly on the palace wall.  He sings the lines about the soothsayers with casual tenderness, so when he sings of Belsazar's murder, the syllables sound even more ominous. 

Terfel and Keenlyside foxed the audience, too, changing the programme and keeping us alert. Schumann's Die beiden Grenadier (op 49/1 1840) popped up unexpectedly, but it's a great song that fitted perfectly into this programme of Lieder as mini-drama. The ironic quote from the Marseillaise worked especially well after the Muse's wonky nightingale song in Zur Warnung. Die beiden Grenadier is witty but the humour is grim. Heine is satirizing fanatics who follow leaders unto death.

Also in place of the scheduled programme, Jacques Ibert's Quatre chansons de Don Quichotte (1932)  substituted for Poulenc's Chansons villageoises (1942). An inspired choice, which showed the singer's grasp of repertoire. Ibert's four Don Quixote songs are even more colourful than Ravel's  three songs Don Quichotte à Dulcinée  which were sung by Feodor Chaliapin in the 1932 G W Pabst film Don Quixote. Read more about the film here and about Chaliapin's hilarious performance. Ibert wrote the rest of the music for the film, so his songs area deliciously ironic. Terfel must have relished doing  a riposte to Chaliapin. Ibert's songs veer (or should I say "tilt" wildly from mock heroic to sentimental to mock elegaic. Ideal opportunities for Terfel to camp up the humour and characterizations. 

Both Terfel and Keenlyside live in Wales, though Terfel is of course a native. So Terfel sang Y Cymru (The Welshman) in what we must assume is perfect Welsh. The song, by Meirion Williams, sounds lovely in Welsh but it's just as well -- translated into English, the text is maudlin. My Welsh aunt, who didn't speak English til she was 15, used to say "hymns and alcohol" kept company.. But it's a good song and should be a star turn. Keenlyside decided that discretion was the better part of valour and declined to sing the third Williams song in Welsh. 

Instead, Keenlyside sang Peter Warlock, an Englishman who lived in Wales and was rather fond of beer and song. Keenlyside's voice filled out beautifully in Cradle Song (1927).  Warlock's My Own Country (1927), to a poem by Hilaire Belloc, is exquisite, one of his best and most mellifluous. Belloc was writing about an imaginary country, based vaguely on Sussex, but Keenlyside made it feel as if we all belonged there. 


Since this concert celebrated the beginning of a new season at the Wigmore Hall, the holidy mood continued with a selection of show tunes. Here, Keenlyside was in his element.  When he sang the Soliloquy ("My boy Bill")  from Rodgers and Hammerstein's Carousel, he could sit on a bar stool clutching a glass (of water) and be in perfect character. Keenlyside does lounge lizard well, so I liked his Ain't misbehaving though he sounds nothing like Fats Waller. He did a wry take on Fiddler on the Roof  too. His skills in the opera house stand him in good stead.  Keenlyside and Terfel duetted in Cole Porter's Night and Day, coyly switching the words. They'd like to spend their days and nights "being friends".

Terfel presented more party tricks. He sang songs from the repertoire of John Charles Thomas (1891-1960), an American of Welsh descent who sang opera, operetta and popular tunes. "He sang with Chaliapin", said Terfel. Another hidden connection in this remarkably erudite programme.  Terfel sang the comic The Green-Eyed Dragon (Wolseley Charles, published 1926 Boosey), first recorded in 1927 by an opera singer called  Reinald Werrenrath. Crossover is nothing new. Terfel also sang two rather better songs, Trees to the poem by Joyce Kilmer set by Oscar Rasbach in 1922, and a song about fox hunting where a foxy peasant out-foxes fox hunters and lets the fox escape. The peasant acts dumb when the fox hunters ask him where the fox has gone. Terfel's face takes on an expression so dumb that I can't think of a role he could use it in again. Wonderful song - I wish I could track it down, as it would make a wonderful, theatrical encore. But that's the beauty of the Wigmore Hall. You learn something new all the time. Addendum: a loyal reader just emailed me to identify the song. It's Tally-ho! by Franco Leoni (1864-1949) and was recorded by Arthur Reckless, an English baritone who later taught at GSMD. My intrepid reader has now come up with a link to the score of Tally-ho! (1919) so now we can all learn it.

Please see the full review in Opera Today.  

Below, John Charles Thomas singing Trees in a 1931 recording

Maazel Bruckner Vienna Philharmonic Prom 74

By Douglas Cooksey

Traditionally the penultimate night of the Proms has been reserved for Beethoven’s Choral Symphony, not an inappropriate choice since the work received its London premiere at a Royal Philharmonic Society concert in 1825 and was announced as having been ‘composed expressly for this Society’. Furthermore Schiller’s Ode to Joy, with its ideals of the universal brotherhood of man, encapsulates the inclusive spirit of the Proms themselves. However, having already been performed earlier in the season by the National Youth Orchestra of Great Britain under Vassily Petrenko, this year alternative plans were the order of the day and Bruckner’s grandest symphony is – or should be – a special event.

On paper the idea of having the Vienna Philharmonic and the organist of St Florian prefacing it made perfect sense. After all, in 1871 Bruckner famously gave a series of organ concerts at the Royal Albert Hall and on its day the Vienna Philharmonic is the World’s premier Bruckner orchestra, effortlessly producing the true organ-like Bruckner sound, wide-bore brass embedded in a rich string sound.

In the event, however, there were some delicious ironies to this concert. As they say in Scotland,”the best laid plans o’mice and men gang aft aglae (astray)’ and this was just such a case. In the first place, the conductor of that earlier mentioned Proms Beethoven 9^th, Vassily Petrenko, had inadvertently contrived to put both feet firmly in his mouth when he gave an unguarded interview questioning the role of women conductors. an interview quickly picked up last week by the Norwegian newspaper Aftenposten where Petrenko has recently become the conductor of the Oslo Philharmonic (which as one would expect in a Scandinavian country has a strong female contingent). To add to the irony BBC 4 was showing this very concert on TV on Friday evening simultaneously with their Radio 3 broadcast of the Vienna Philharmonic’s Prom.

A further irony is that the Vienna Philharmonic is almost parallel to the British Bullingdon Club as being one the last preserves of male dominance. Yes, there are now a sprinkling of women amongst its serried ranks but their number is quite disproportionately small, probably five if we discount the two lady harpists. The usual excuse proffered is that women’s sound does not gel with that of the rest of the players. Is the Vienna Philharmonic really such a good orchestra that it can afford to close itself off to half the World? Not, I would suggest, on the evidence of this concert.

The ultimate irony or ‘kicker’, as they would say in the States, was that the following night for the first time the Last Night of the Proms was to be conducted by a woman, Marin Alsop, whose inclusive sentiments clearly chimed with those of the majority of Prommers; without mentioning any names, her Last Night closing speech took the gentlest of swipes at Petrenko’s unfortunate lapse but, like Ko-Ko’s little list in The Mikado, we all knew to whom she was referring  (a generation ago Beecham could get away with a little gentle misogyny because it was clearly at least partially tongue in cheek but in today’s changed World what was just about acceptable then really will not do).

Would that the ‘event’ had been worthy of the occasion. As it was Klaus Sonnleitner started off in fine style with Guilmant’s arrangement of the Prelude from the 3^rd Partita for solo violin. Guilmant is pictured in the programme playing the famous Cavaillé-Coll organ at the Trocadéro in Paris and this thunderous transcription sounded wonderfully imposing on the enormous Albert Hall instrument. However, the intimate Chorale Preludes which followed were less than ideal on such a large instrument and concentration was constantly distracted by the admission of latecomers after each and every piece. At least the Prelude and Fugue in A minor with which this mini organ recital closed injected more fizz into the occasion, although one sensed that it was all a little like trying to manoeuvre a soft suspension Cadillac around a Formula One racetrack.

With  Bruckner 8 we come to the vexed question of editions, Haas or Nowak. Frankly in my opinion there is no right or wrong here. Many great conductors have come to differing conclusions, Giulini Nowak, Karajan Haas and some even performing both versions. For good measure Klemperer (who gave the UK premiere and whom I once heard conduct it in 1970) even made substantial cuts in the Finale, writing in the programme note “Brucknerians will object, and it is certainly not my intention that these cuts should be taken as a model for others. I can only take responsibility for my own interpretation”. Personally after hearing around 20 live performances I prefer Haas because it seems to me that the rolling climaxes of the slow movement where Bruckner builds to a climax, falls back and then builds to an even greater one, cumulate more effectively in Haas. Boulez – who recorded the piece live in St Florian’s with the Vienna Philharmonic – also opts for Haas because it seems to him that the cuts in the Nowak are unnecessary: “They destroy the symmetry, logic and structure”. However, the only thing that ultimately counts is “does it work” and there are performances of Nowak, such as Giulini’s recorded one with the Vienna Philharmonic, which work magnificently.

Maazel too opted for Nowak (he too has recorded the piece with the Berlin Philharmonic and the Bavarian Radio Symphony). Timings can prove a distraction in Bruckner. Actual tempi are generally not the real issue although there are obviously parameters beyond which it is difficult to make the music work, just as with a singer there are tempi so distended that it becomes impossible effectively to phrase. What is more important is establishing and maintaining a line and a forward momentum. If this is lost, as here, a Bruckner symphony becomes a very long listen and plays into the hands of his detractors.

Of course the Vienna Philharmonic intuitively produce an echt Bruckner sound but this was a very long listen indeed. To put this in context, performing Haas, the longer of the two versions in the not dissimilar acoustic of St Florian, Boulez and the same orchestra took 76 minutes whereas Maazel with Nowak here took nearly 90. Even Gunter Wand performing the symphony with the NDR orchestra in Edinburgh’s Usher Hall only just about succeeded in sustaining the work at this duration but in the words of the Duke of Wellington of Waterloo it was a damn close run thing. Put bluntly, and hampered by some fairly fallible playing, including at one point a hiatus such as one seldom hears with a professional orchestra, Maazel did not.

At this point it is worth quoting from Robert Simpson’s book The Essence of Bruckner (1967) when he writes of the symphony: “The Eighth is the first full upshot of matters hitherto hidden in under-currents and only intermittently allowed to erupt. But it eventually reveals its true background  in the Finale, the background in a sense of Bruckner’s life-work, a contemplative magnificence beyond the battle. The Finale is not so much a victory over tribulation as a state which had to be found behind it, slowly and sometimes painfully uncovered by the Adagio”.  There is a pervasive unease and when the floodgates finally open in the Finale’s Coda the victory has been hard won.

By no stretch of the imagination could the opening movement in Maazel’s hands be described as Allegro moderato, more like a slow-motion dance by Titans, the music precisely observed but experienced as though from a safe distance, that state of simmering unease palpably absent; that said, there were of course memorable moments such as the leave-taking paragraph’s fade into silence where Maazel’s ability to control detail paid dividends. At least the deutsche Michel Scherzo - also incidentally marked Allegro moderato - came off better although Bruckner’s obsessive repetitions at its climax hardly elicited that gradual but perceptible tightening of tension which makes for an effective resolution and there were dynamic markings - such as the cellos' sudden shift from mf to f in the fifth bar or the trombones punched-out accent immediately at the climax before T - which lost their piquancy.

The magnificent Adagio is marked solemnly and slowly doch nicht schleppend which roughly translates as ‘not dragged’. Dragged it certainly was here as though a slow tempo equated with profundity, but unfortunately problems inherent in adopting a very slow tempo then arise as the movement progresses once one gets to ritardandi or passages marked simply Langsam. Where do you go? Of course Maazel – conducting from memory – has a near Pope like infallibility when it comes to controlling texture and getting what he wants but whether what he wants is the right thing is sometimes open to question; for instance the slight holding back at the movement’s climax seemed to indicate that he did not trust the moment to make its full impact without additional pleading.

The Finale brought a magnificent unfurling of brass sound at the outset – is there anywhere better to hear this music than in the vastness of the Royal Albert Hall – but the movement as a whole poses very particular problems, its contrasting episodes needing a firm hand if it is not to sound merely episodic and bring the ship safely home. If the movement lacks that patient and gradual build-up of tensions, the final torrential outpouring of the Coda – Bruckner at his most Wagnerian in this most Wagner-oriented of years – fails to make its full overwhelming impact. Along the way there was some surprisingly fallible playing, surprising in this great orchestra, especially when led by someone as technically competent as Maazel. Perhaps the orchestra needs an injection of new (possibly female) blood. Too often this sounded uncomfortably like the Vienna Philharmonic on auto-pilot.                      

Bach               Organ music

Bruckner        Symphony No 8 in C minor (1890 version, ed. Nowak)

Klaus Sonnleitner (organ)

Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra

Lorin Maazel (conductor)

Last Night of the BBC Proms 2013 Poised but few pyrotechnics

When Joyce DiDonato walked onto the stage, the Last Night of the Proms 2013 finally came alight.  She's capable of spine tingling Ombra mai fù . Her Tante Affeti  can be "such stuff as legends are made of, with our diva not so much singing the aria as inhabiting it." as we know from her glorious performance in La Donna del Lago (London reviewed here and Paris reviewed here.)  But at this Last Night of the Proms, our dearly loved anti-diva diva was more polite, more technical than pyrotechnical. When arias are sung out of context, they become showpieces rather than part of a wider drama. But the as the BBC Proms wind down, we get into Holiday Mood. Even Maazel's comatose Bruckner sounded good to some. (exceptionally knowledgeable analysis here). And we love DiDonato, the divine anti-diva Diva, because of who she is and what she can (usually) do, The photo shows her wonderful Sycorax in The Enchanted Island (read more about that here).

Enjoyable as it was, the first half of this Last Night was pretty dull. Nigel Kennedy's RVW Lark Ascending  had leaden wings, compared with what we know he's capable of. Perhaps it wasn't wise of the BBC to make him rush over half way thru the Prom to play in Hyde Park (where he might well have been more in his element)  But when the Overture from The Meistersingers of Nuremburg and  Va, pensiero drag, one wonders what's happening. Even the commentary was banal and clichéd. Britten was represented by The Building of a House, a very minor piece indeed. Leonard Bernstein fared better though. He mentored Marin Alsop when she was young, so her feel for his music stems from deep affection. She conducted extracts from his Candide with rousing committment. The Chichester Psalms received an excellent performance with Iestyn Davies  but the piece has always seemed rather too self consciously studied for my taste.  Bernstein was better in territory he knew best.

The Last Night Party really started when DiDonato sang Somewhere Over the Rainbow. The song that made Dorothy from Kansas a legend sung by a star from Kansas! DiDonato added her personal touch with extra decorative trills. Nigel Kennedy dashed back in an Aston Villa football shirt, clutching a teacup, then launched into a hilariously witty but brilliantly executed Csárdás by Vttorio Monti, who was Italian, not Hungarian. Kennedy improvised brilliantly, playing snippets of popular sentimental tunes with bits of Beethoven, then launching into a wild "Gypsy" frenzy. Granville Bantock's delightful Sea Reivers extended the mood, the BBC SO playing with exuberant gusto. Bantock might not be the deepest of composers but he's colourful. In comparison, George Lloyd's HMS Trinidad March hovered between brass band and fairground.

But what is the Last Night of the Proms without Rule Britannia ? Some Rule Britannia's in the past have been gloriously over the top. This year Joyce DiDonato wore a pretty pink stole, while the TV cameras showed crowds all over the country at Proms in parks. This year, even the diehard Prommers in the arena seemed subdued. They work so hard to make the Proms the communal celebration it is, so it's good to see them rejoice. The Proms bring people together in an amazing, emotional way. Pity this Last Night seemed so over-processed and corporate scripted.

Addendum : as to why I haven't joined in the general fuss about "The First Woman Conductor", it's because the very fact that there needs to be so much hype indicates how difficult things really are for women in the workplace. Go into the City if you want bullying culture, where men, too, are victimized if they don't play the game. And being a conductor is a mix of luck as well as talent. Good men get screwed, too.  As Xian Zhang said the other day, a conductor's gender should not be an issue at all. It's the musicianship that matter. The danger is that this kind of hype makes people think it's some kind of "victory". No it is not. Publicity gimmicks disguise the fact that there are many, very real problems in society which won't be solved overnight. And lubricious salivation in some quarters only goes to prove Petrenko's silly point that some wowem conductors are perceived as objects, not musicians.