Tag Archives: Royal Philharmonic Orchestra

Review – Last Night of the Derngate Proms, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Derngate, Northampton, 16th June 2013

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A month before the BBC Proms season starts, it’s always time for the Royal Philharmonic’s traditional Last Night to mark the end of their season. A packed Derngate Auditorium looked forward to a night of music and festivities, and there seemed to be considerably more flags and a lot more general audience cheekiness than in previous years.

Our conductor was Nick Davies, whom we have not seen on the podium before, but he seems like a laid-back and relaxed sort of chap from his programme photograph. His experience at conducting for musical theatre in West End productions like Mary Poppins and Evita no doubt stands him in good stead for taking charge of the evening of Classic’s Greatest Hits that is the RPO’s Last Night.

We started off with the sheer brilliance of Bizet’s Carmen – Prelude, Aragonaise and March of the Toreadors. That’s a fantastic way to get your classic juices flowing. Wasn’t it Stephen Sondheim who described Carmen as the greatest musical ever written? Or was it me, I can’t remember. Anyway, it was a superb, sunny, exhilarating opening, and it gave the orchestra the chance to shine right from the start.

Nick Davies then introduced our guest tenor, John Hudson, who has a string of accomplishments to his CV including all the decent opera roles in many of the decent opera companies. He has a jolly, avuncular appearance; if he wasn’t wearing the traditional operatic dinner jacket he would look just right in a mucky white apron behind a butcher’s counter. He started off with La donna è mobile from Rigoletto which he sang with wonderful warmth and expression.

Then it was time to introduce the home contingent on stage, the Northampton Bach Choir. We’ve heard them a few times before and they’re nearly always superb. Their first contribution to the evening was Bach’s Jesu Joy of Man’s Desiring and, if I’m honest, they were a bit ragged. It was a performance that seemed to lack certainty, with sibilants flying all over the place and a range of final “t”s that ricocheted around the stage like a staccato stutter. However, when Mrs Chrisparkle and I were walking home after the concert we overheard one chorister-looking lady saying to her friend, “well, he never told us when to come in”, so maybe there was a little lack of understanding between Bach and Baton.

All rectified splendidly, however, with the next piece, Sibelius’ Finlandia, where the orchestra gave a superbly gutsy performance and the choir were strong and powerful with their Finnish call for independence sung in the original Finnish. It was very rousing, loud and entertaining. Then came more power from the choir in the Hallelujah Chorus that followed, which was beautifully sung and had great support from the orchestra.

John Hudson returned to perform Che gelida manina from La Bohème. “Your tiny hand is frozen, come thrust it in the fire, aah – aah…” as I was once prone inappropriately to sing. I’ve always loved this piece as it was one of the Dowager Mrs Chrisparkle’s favourite pieces of classical music and it always reminds me of her. Mr Hudson gave it a very tender rendition, which obviously channelled the emotion of it successfully, as little springs of moisture began to appear behind my specs. There was a slight problem though – when the orchestra really took flight they rather dominated our tenor and it was hard to hear him at times. Nevertheless, musically it was still a delight.

Then it was time for Antiphon (Let all the world) from Vaughan Williams’ Five Mystical Songs, which was new to me – a very different version of “Let all the world in every corner sing” that I intoned at junior school. Challenging and difficult, I felt the Northampton Bach Choir gave it a very good stab.

The last number before the interval – and with a concert like this you can consider them “musical numbers” – was the Waltz of the Flowers from the Nutcracker. It’s a beautiful tune and the orchestra played it magnificently. It has a long, self-indulgent, decadent harp element, which sounded stunning. From where I was sitting, the harpist was hidden by three violinists but I checked my programme and saw that it was Suzy Willison-Kawalec whom we have seen many times before. I thought she was on top form. It was only during the applause afterwards when Nick Davies invited the harpist to stand that I saw it was a young man! A little subsequent investigation has revealed that it was Daniel de Fry, who I guess must have been a last minute stand-in and he is definitely a star of the future.

After a nice glass of Cabernet Sauvignon we returned for the second half, and the starter piece, Walton’s Orb and Sceptre. I had noticed the appearance of a large speaker in the corner of the stage, four rows from where we were sitting and I wondered if it might affect us. I was right to wonder. A keyboard instrument had appeared during the interval – again from where I was sitting I couldn’t really see it properly – but certainly when it was played I couldn’t half hear it! It augmented the Orb and Sceptre very dramatically and, because the organ (I guess that’s what it was) didn’t have a huge part to play in the piece, it didn’t dominate it, but just helped give it power, emotion and a lot of oomph. However, there were moments later on in the concert when the organ was just too loud, to the detriment of the other instruments. I expect we were simply unfortunate to be as close to the speaker as we were.

The Northampton Bach Choir returned for more drama with Parry’s “I was glad” which is always a crowd pleaser and they performed it brilliantly; very musical, delightfully regal and full of joy. It was a superb contrast with the reflective beauty of Elgar’s Nimrod, which followed; serene on the strings, blossoming with emotion, conveying all those aspects of a deep friendship just as Elgar must have originally hoped; a lovely performance.

John Hudson returned for the choral version of Nessun dorma from Turandot. Mrs C and I have never really heard it this way before. Mr Hudson sang the aria beautifully and with great clarity, and just as you thought it was going to end, the choir came in sang that famous “chorus” again. Mrs C had hairs stand up on the back of her neck. It was thrilling; we loved it. The choir absolutely nailed it; it was indeed the individual performance of the night.

On the home straight now, as we were taken through our paces with Tom Bowling (cellist Tim Gill on super form) and the Hornpipe from Henry Wood’s Fantasia on Sea Songs. Once the hornpipe had started the audience participation wasn’t going to hold back. Often conductors like to encourage the audience to keep quiet through the first part of the hornpipe at least so that we can hear the beautiful music once; Mr Davies didn’t do that, and taps, claps and thumps started up pretty much from the word go. Someone in the boxes stage right started to give Mr Davies a mild heckling, to the enormous amusement of the orchestra. John Hudson led us through Rule Britannia (lovely but the organ was too loud) and Jerusalem (always my favourite) and we ended up with Pomp and Circumstance and Land of Hope and Glory; all rousing, wonderful stuff that got everyone in the patriotic mood. As an encore, the orchestra gave us their Can-Can from Offenbach’s Orpheus in the Underworld, which also resulted in lots of clapping and stomping, and a very respectable looking elderly man in a box stage left, who had enjoyed the concert up to that point in a reserved and dignified way, went manic and started doing his own version of the Can-Can. He looked like Statler from the Muppet Show on speed.

It was a very enjoyable concert and a wonderful end to the RPO’s 2012-13 season. We’ve already booked our seats for next year! On the way back we walked past some of the choir and orchestra members spilling out of the stage door and heading for home, including Mr de Fry manfully propelling his (comparatively) giant harp up the street, peeking either side of it like a meerkat in attempt to navigate the road safely. Although he nearly ran us over crossing the road it did give us an opportunity to thank him for his great performance. Hi, ho, the glamorous life!

Review – Alexander Shelley Conducts Scheherazade, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Derngate, Northampton, 14th April 2013

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After a really busy weekend there are few more enjoyable prospects than to spend Sunday evening in the company of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra at one of their regular visits to Northampton. Well we’d had an exceedingly busy weekend, so a triple bill of Russian classics was the perfect medicine.

Our conductor was Alexander Shelley. It was the first time we’d seen Mr Shelley, and he is a dignified, authoritative figure, clean-cut and enthusiastic to bring the best out of the performers in his charge.

First on the evening’s agenda was Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet Fantasy Overture. A lively performance of this great attacking overture, the orchestra were already on top form and you could see Mr Shelley was intent on having a great time. I loved its periods of stateliness and sensuousness. A super start to the programme.

Then we had the usual hiatus of moving the Steinway into position, whilst members of the orchestra hover uncomfortably in corners. I wish they could do that a bit more seamlessly. Mr Shelley returned with the guest soloist, pianist Peter Jablonski, resplendent in a very trendy Nehru jacket, to play Rachmaninov’s Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini. What impressed me most about his performance was that he covered the keyboard with such speed and such ease; and also how he threw his entire body behind the expression. When he lunged down towards the bass notes he followed through by hurling his left hand right down almost to his ankles.

I’d forgotten what an amazingly entertaining piece this is. It constantly surprises you with its inventiveness, finding yet another variation on how to play that old theme. Sometimes it makes you laugh with its irreverence, at other times is overwhelms you with its typical romantic Rachmaninoviness. It was a superb performance and the whole orchestra gave Mr Jablonksi fantastic support.

After a soothing Chenin Blanc, we returned for the final piece, a performance of Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade. This is one of my favourite pieces of music, and the orchestra blew me away right from the start. The music is so representative of the sound of the sea, culminating in a shipwreck, and as it ebbs and flows over forty minutes or so, it really takes your imagination with it. That Mr Shelley led the orchestra through all its dramatic intensity with terrific attention to detail, and that the orchestra responded gloriously goes without saying. But what I wasn’t expecting was the leaders of each part of the orchestra to take such exquisite virtuoso solos. First Violinist, Clio Gould gave a performance of incredible subtlety and beauty; and when she was matched with harpist Suzy Willison-Kawalec, both of them brought out the absolute best in each other. Bassoonist Rebecca Mertens (I think) had gorgeous warmth to her playing, and lead cellist Tim Gill simply made his instrument sing. It was a riveting all round performance.

At the end we were treated to an encore, the final movement of Stravinsky’s Firebird, to send us all home with vibrant strings zinging in our ears. Mr Shelley generously allowed all sections of the orchestra to have their own special moment of appreciation from the audience, and they well and truly deserved it. For sheer enjoyment this programme was hard to beat.

Review – Janina Fialkowska Plays Chopin, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Derngate, Northampton, 27th January 2013

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Once again it is a delight to welcome the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra to Northampton, and good to see that there plenty of avid music lovers in attendance. Fortunately the snow had all but melted away so it was an easy trek into town for an audio feast of Brahms, Chopin and Beethoven.

Our conductor was Fabien Gabel, whom we have not seen here before. Very dashing and smart, he’s the kind of conductor who throws himself whole-heartedly into cajoling every section of the orchestra to outperform themselves on an individual basis. A lively bit comes along and he’s flapping around frenziedly – then comes a soft bit and he’s beckoning out gently with one hand in an encouraging way as if to part the musician with their last Rolo. Despite all this he’s not over-the-top in his movement, he just obviously enjoys his job and isn’t afraid to show it. I found him equally entertaining to watch as any of members of the orchestra.

The first piece was Brahms’ Tragic Overture. Mrs Chrisparkle remarked that she’s experienced a few of those. The programme notes advised that it met a lukewarm reception on its first performance, has been slow to gain a regular place in the repertoire, and performances remain relatively scarce to this day. Not having heard it before, you couldn’t blame us for wondering if it was going to be a bit rubbish. We had no need to worry. It was lush and stately and full of beautiful expression from the strings and there was also some really good oomph from the horns. Not tragic at all, we agreed.

Having built up a soothing air of warm serenity with the Brahms, it was time to move on to Chopin’s Piano Concerto No 2 in F Minor. I’d caught sight earlier of the Steinway, lurking at the back of the stage where you would normally expect to see the percussion. Therefore it had to be wheeled into position before the arrival of our soloist Janina Fialkowska. What a performance. First violins had to move this way, second violins moved that way, cellos hovered perilously close to the stage edge. Two dinner-jacketed guys grabbed hold of the piano and went for the gap. They reversed it in and out of place several times, in an attempt to find the optimum position. They were worse than me trying to reverse-park the Golf. Meanwhile, the first violins were chatting at one corner of the stage, the cellos were chatting at the other end; one tall musician (I can’t remember what instrument he was playing) stood right at the front of the stage looking out and beaming into the audience as if he were trying to find his relatives. It all seemed to take ages. Honestly, how to kill an atmosphere! The whole procedure looked so amateurish and unplanned. We’ve seen RPO concerts with piano soloists on three separate occasions but I can’t remember such a cumbersome arrangement.

Anyway, eventually everything was in place and we could continue. M. Gabel brought Ms Fialkowska onto the stage with a palpable air of expectation. It was all worth the wait. Chopin’s 2nd piano concerto is a stunning piece, combining delicacy and grandiosity, sorrow and folky jollity. In that first movement, Janina Fialkowska’s hands fly across the keyboard at an incredible speed, somehow managing to catch all the right notes in their path as they go. One wonders how the brain can instruct the hands to go to all those places with exactly the right sequence, speed and expression. That’s why I gave up at Grade VI. For the second movement, a seriousness descends and Ms Fialkowska played the most beautiful, deceptively simple, nocturne – plaintive and resonant, full of feeling and emotion; we loved it. Straight into the third movement and she gathers all the liveliness back and goes for broke, her hands shimmering over the keys almost as much as her black sparkly top glittered under the spotlights. An absolutely stonking good performance. The orchestra gave it great support too, including a stunning sequence towards the end where the strings are played with the wood part of the bow rather than the hair. The whole performance understandably caused the Derngate to erupt with approval. As Ms Fialkowska came out for her second bow, one of the theatre staff hovered behind her with a very nice looking bouquet. Fatally, he hesitated. He couldn’t tell when to make his move. She went to leave the stage. He bounded in with the bouquet. Flowers and soloist were successfully united and all was well that ended well; but we were a bit worried for him. Next time you have a bouquet to present to a soloist, imagine you’re trying to cross a road in Vietnam. Don’t look, just stride out and do it.

After a scrummy Chenin Blanc and the chance to get our breath back after that wonderful performance, we returned to the auditorium for Beethoven’s 6th symphony. The Pastoral symphony is full of recognisable tunes but I can never quite place them before I hear it. I don’t think I was the only one with that problem, because as soon as it started you could hear a tiny wave of breathy recognitions around the room as if to say “oh yes, THAT one.” It was another great performance. M. Gabel got right into it and dug all sorts of superlatives out of the orchestra. The cellos were having a particularly good time, exchanging knowing looks and smiles as it progressed. The music flowed over us like a soothing honey and lemon drink. It’s easy to tell the break from the first to the second movement and from the second to the third (cue the musical birdsong); but the third, fourth and fifth movements all run into each other so that when it finishes it’s a bit of a shock. My little pastoral idyll had come to an end.

Even then it wasn’t all over, as we got a little burst of Mozart as an encore, which was a very nice touch. The evening was superb and we really enjoyed it. Not quite as much, perhaps, as the cellists, who all kissed and hugged at the end, as if wrapping up a self-help group meeting. Three cheers for the RPO and their wonderful Sunday night concerts here at the Derngate; there’s no surer way of ending the weekend both relaxed and energised.

Review – Julian Bliss Plays Mozart, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Derngate, Northampton, 4th November 2012

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The RPO goes Chamber! For this visit of the Royal Philharmonic, when we took our seats in the auditorium it was noticeable how many fewer musicians would be seated in that usual semi-circle round the podium. There was no provision for percussion, and apparently neither woodwind nor brass – for the first piece at least. And also no podium, as for this chamber recital Lead Violinist Clio Gould would direct the orchestra from the rather uncomfortable looking bar stool at the front of the stage. We liked her rather funky black outfit – what Mrs Chrisparkle would call “Edgy Boho”.

The first piece was Mozart’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, without which title Stephen Sondheim would have been stumped. For something so famous, I think I’ve probably only heard it very occasionally all the way through. The RPO became a sea of strings and it was crisp, elegant and charming. I noted all the movements in the programme and I was expecting at some point to hear the original version of the Wombles’ Minuetto Allegretto, but that must come from some other moment of Mozart magic. Eine Kleine Nachtmusik has a rather sudden ending, which, unsurprisingly, I wasn’t expecting, so whilst everyone else had started applauding I was still precariously balancing a plastic beaker of Sauvignon Blanc and rapidly flipping programme pages, which didn’t feel like I gave it the response it deserved. Despite that, I appreciated it as a very beautiful warm-up.

A few extra musicians joined the stage in advance of the appearance of Julian Bliss as the clarinet soloist in Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto. When Mr Bliss arrives he looks scarcely fourteen years old, all boyish enthusiasm and shiny grey suit and shirt unbuttoned at the neck, standing out against the relative formality of the rest of the orchestra. The Clarinet Concerto itself is new to me, and is another entertaining and smile-inducing piece of Mozart and Mr Bliss played it immaculately. He just stood in a gap between Clio Gould and the cellos, with no music or music stand to shelter behind, and played the whole thing from memory. The mixture of clarinet and strings is a really warm, soft sound and I loved the way the clarinet integrated perfectly into the rest of the orchestra.

Mr Bliss can make it sing too. He can make it velvety and treacly like a musical version of feather down; or give it full zip so that the instrument blazes a trail like a torch and the strings follow in its wake. It was a really enjoyable performance and I didn’t want it to end. Nor did the audience by the sound of it, with prolonged applause bringing him back to centre stage three times. He gets a great rapport with the other musicians – you can see in his eyes how he appreciates their performance too, which encourages both the soloist and orchestra to put in a great show. Afterwards, during the interval, we saw him talking to some people in the foyer, glass in hand. Is he old enough to consume alcohol in a public place?

On our return to the auditorium, the violinists’ chairs had been removed and all that was visible was some seating for the cellos and a centrally wheeled-on harpsichord. The final piece was Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, and I guess they got the violinists to perform standing up to give it more energy. I love the Four Seasons, and I am very fond of Nigel Kennedy’s blockbuster CD recording of it from the late 80s, which for me is the definitive performance. So I was very interested to see what kind of spin Clio Gould and the rest of the RPO would put on it. It was classy, even stately at times, and brought out the romantic where Mr Kennedy brought out the quirky. I loved the way Ms Gould took complete control of the proceedings. Pausing after each movement, pulling dead strings from her bow, carefully putting her hair that had been tossed in rhythmic abandon during the previous movement back into its coiffured place, repositioning the sheet music, deep breathing and regaining focus, checking everyone was poised to continue; she didn’t mind how long it took, she wasn’t going to carry on until she was good and ready. I absolutely admired her assertiveness.

And it paid dividends. The animation that the whole orchestra put into some of the sections was astonishing. The vivid violence of the fast strings during the Summer sequence was breathtaking. It was so exciting to hear – Mrs C and I looked at each other with “wow” expressions on our faces. Winter was also, I felt, a particularly stunning performance, with a chilling clarity and fantastic attack. Superb support came from the cellos, with Jessica Borroughs leading the team in a great performance; and Christopher Bucknall on the harpsichord was like a voice of reason treading his poised way through maniacal strings.

The final applause was amusing; the gentleman with the bouquet mistimed his appearance so that he almost bumped into Ms Gould in the offstage area; so the flowers (very nice by the way) were never going to be a surprise. When she returned to the stage and he followed her to present them to her, she did a wonderful “Really? For me? What a lovely surprise!” gesture worthy of the Trocks. A super evening of entertainment from the RPO and we walked home beaming with satisfaction.

Review – Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Jack Liebeck Plays Sibelius, Derngate, Northampton, 23rd September 2012

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Autumn brings the start of this year’s subscription season of concerts at the Derngate in Northampton, and I’m delighted to say that Mrs Chrisparkle and I have tickets to all but one of them. So it’s the welcome return of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra with a glorious threesome of Wagner, Sibelius and Tchaikovsky, a super balanced programme designed to warm us up, show off a fine soloist, and end with the full orchestra at its best.

Our conductor was Enrique Bátiz, a splendidly formal gentleman of 70 experienced years, who takes his time to get to the podium, sombrely accepts the audience’s applause by resting his hand across his chest, never comes close to a smile, but with the manner of a slightly infirm old headmaster gets an absolutely cracking performance from the orchestra. His discography comprises 145 recordings, so he’s clearly the Cliff Richard of Latin American classical music.

The first piece was Wagner’s Flying Dutchman Overture, a stately and grand performance interspersed with some musical fireworks; a good opener that pleased the appreciative, if a bit small, Derngate audience. I thought the horns were particularly outstanding, but what do I know?

Sibelius’ Violin Concerto in D Minor was next, and we awaited the return of Snr Bátiz with Jack Liebeck, winner of the 2010 Classical Brit award for Young British Performer of the Year. We’d seen him a couple of years ago on this same stage with this same orchestra performing Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto. On that occasion I was very impressed with the sound that he made from his playing but felt he was a bit clinical and cold when it came to the emotion of the thing.

Well that’s all changed now. Mr Liebeck’s whole attitude seems much more enthusiastic. You can see it in his body language – lurching back and forth as though on a choppy sea, reaching on tiptoes to get the high notes, and really embracing the passion of the Sibelius with his every facial gesture. And of course his technical prowess is magnificent – those challenging cadenzas in particular were completely gripping and he never sacrifices the purity of the note for the bravura of the performance. I’d not heard this concerto before but I loved it and a CD of it is on its way to me from those nice people at Amazon. The orchestra put in a great performance too, including an intriguingly rasping playing of the horns, which Mrs C at first thought was a lone kazoo in the percussion. Sustained applause at the end of the concerto brought Mr Liebeck back for an encore. I didn’t recognise the piece but I know it was Bach because just before he played it, he exclaimed “Bach!” So there was no doubt.

After the interval, where Mrs C and I met a nice old lady who came into town by herself to see the RPO concerts while her old husband seemed to prefer staying in and watching X-Factor, we returned for Tchaikovsky’s Fourth Symphony. Again this was a new piece to me, and again I absolutely adored it, especially its second, third and fourth movements. The second movement centres on a very plaintive, moving theme which I thought the orchestra played beautifully. I can’t think how come I’ve not heard it before. The third movement consists of Tchaikovsky getting plucked, which is an overwhelming sensation when the entire string section is on the pizzicato. The final section is such a whirlwind of flourishes and excitement that it quite takes your breath away. You know that package from Amazon? A recording of this symphony is in there as well. The final applause was one of those occasions where it gradually gets warmer and warmer as the audience reflects on just how good all the elements of the evening have been. We were getting poor old Señor Bátiz to walk on and off the podium countless times to take the applause. Each time, it was still with his sincere but solemn expression, the heartfelt hand on the chest; until the last time, when he simply did that sharp cross-hands gesture which clearly is Mexican for “enough already”. He’s got a train to catch, thought Mrs C.

Many’s the time we’ve been to see these RPO concerts and inevitably we walk home exhilarated afterwards, talking of being lucky and privileged to enjoy them so close to home. This was no exception. Here’s to the next one.

Review – Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Nigel Kennedy plays Brahms, Derngate, Northampton, 2nd June 2012

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It was a perfect start to the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee weekend with a long-awaited concert by the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra with guest soloist Nigel Kennedy. I remember back in the late 1980s being absolutely knocked out by his crisp and sparky Vivaldi Four Seasons CD which had so much more attack and personality than any other recording of the Four Seasons I have heard before or since. So it was a no-brainer that we would book for this concert, and we’d been looking forward to it for over a year.

The Royal Philharmonic were conducted by Andrew Litton, whose performances we have appreciated in the past and who was at the Julliard School with Nigel Kennedy. Once again Mr Litton beamed his perky happiness throughout the evening, taking charge of the orchestra in a seemingly effortless way.

We started off with Brahms’ Academic Festival Overture, which was a new one on Mrs Chrisparkle and me. It’s a bright and charming piece and a great way to open a concert. The orchestra were clearly on good form and I particularly enjoyed the punchy drums and percussion.

Next up was what would be the highlight in any other concert in which it featured – Elgar’s Enigma Variations. This really is a personal favourite of mine. It only took the first few seconds of its starting and my eyes instantly welled up with the atmosphere and emotion. It was a beautifully paced and balanced performance, including a really snappy Troyte variation and a delicately laid back R.P.A. Whenever I hear Nimrod, I always feel it’s possibly the most beautiful piece ever written – and then I hear the final variation, E.D.U., and for me it always trumps Nimrod’s ace. Another super performance, and quite rightly Andrew Litton invited virtually everyone in the orchestra to take their own individual bow. In a sense it was odd to play Enigma before the interval, rather than leaving it to the end, but with Mr Kennedy waiting in the wings I could see there was no alternative. We certainly left for our interval Sauvignon Blanc on a high.

On our return, the male members of the orchestra (Andrew Litton apart) had reappeared in shirtsleeve order. I wasn’t sure if that was because they were universally hot, or whether it was to go along with Nigel Kennedy’s own informal style. If it was the latter, it’s slightly bizarre to have everyone conform to the nonconformist – but no matter. For vivacious style and content, this couldn’t be beaten. Mr Kennedy saunters up to the podium exchanging bon mots and giggles with half the orchestra before spending the first thirty seconds enjoying and praising the beauty of First Violinist Clio Gould, lamenting the fact that she’s “taken”. He trades a bit of laddish banter with “Andy” Litton – clearly an old friendship that works a treat here – and with “Dave” Cohen, first Cello, of whom he’s also obviously fond. He gives them all, and some members of the audience, a fist bump. Then he picks up his 1732 Carlo Bergonzi violin, turns his back to the audience, and Brahms’ Violin Concerto begins.

At first, his turning his back seems slightly rude; but as the piece progresses you realise it’s actually an act of great humility. It’s a good few minutes before the violin shows up in the first movement, and it’s a time for the orchestra to show off its prowess, so Mr Kennedy makes himself invisible for this time. When it’s his turn, he shifts about 135 degrees round so that he’s still on quite an odd angle to the audience, and starts to make the most brilliant music. His style is still that of the bold, boisterous Kennedy of the Four Seasons. When it came to the first movement cadenza, he played – according to the programme notes – the Fritz Kreisler version and it was stunning. You could have powered the entire lighting rig from his energy.

The whole performance was fantastic. For me, Nigel Kennedy elevated the art of being a soloist a hundredfold. He dazzled, yet remained an intrinsic part of the orchestra, never missing an opportunity by word or gesture to allow his colleagues to shine too. The partnership with Andrew Litton worked perfectly; they clearly have an understanding and appreciation of precisely how the other operates, and it becomes a joint venture of mutual respect and admiration. Each enables the other to soar.

When the concerto was over, we got the usual rounds of extremely well deserved applause and bows; and just when you thought Andrew Litton would come back for one more call, he stays away and leaves Nigel Kennedy centre stage with the orchestra for a full half hour’s worth of additional encores and banter. He thanks us for supporting live music – no worries, Nigel, the pleasure was ours; he continues to “big up” individual members of the orchestra, and why not; he generates another sequence of fist bumps; he starts to play a little tune on his “fiddle”, gets it slightly wrong and says a playful “oh sh*t”; then finally gives us some exuberant Brahms Hungarian Dances, with David Cohen’s First Cello acting as cimbalom – which works really well. He works some cunning and amusing variations in there too, which included, inter alia, the theme to Bonanza.

After all the rapturous reception was finished, the orchestra had dispersed and the audience was making their way to the exits, it was rather humbling to see Andrew Litton, now dressed in jumper and jeans, nip back on stage to collect his paperwork, a visual underlining of the fact he had earlier handed over the ultimate glories of the night to Nigel Kennedy. A superb concert, a privilege to see a soloist so in command of his instrument, and an orchestra worth going a long way to catch.

Review – Spanish Fiesta, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Derngate, Northampton, 5th February 2012

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First visit by the RPO to the Derngate in 2012 for the much awaited Spanish Fiesta, which includes four crowd-pleasing familiar pieces and a first performance. So it was with great anticipation that we took our seats.

The conductor this time was Simon Wright, a relaxed, avuncular looking man, who looks as though he enjoys the après-concert to the full. I felt that the first piece, Bizet’s Carmen Suite No 1, could have done with just a tad more attack. Rather reflecting the conductor’s appearance, it luxuriated in the soft and the stately elements of the music, bringing out its tunefulness very well – the Carmen suite is basically a medley of songs from the world’s best musical after all – but I didn’t get the spine shiver I would normally like from Les dragons d’alcala entr’acte music, and perhaps the Séguidille lacked some emotion. All was put right though for the Toreadors tune, which went like the clappers and never fails to bring a smile to the face and an air-baton to the hand.

Then we had Fauré’s Pavane. This beautiful piece was perfectly played and was as comforting as nestling in a high tog duvet with a bowl of whipped cream. It clearly suited Simon Wright’s laid back style. Measured and resonant; simply gorgeous.

Then we came to our première. Stephen Goss’ Guitar Concerto was commissioned by the soloist Graham Roberts. Messrs Goss and Roberts go back a long way and have played together in the Tetra Guitar Quartet for over twenty years, so they should have a pretty good understanding of how to get the best out of each other. The first movement is described as “bold and bright”; let’s take that first. It starts stunningly; and there’s no doubting Mr Roberts’ mastery of the guitar – although I was expecting an acoustic Spanish guitar rather than the mellow electronic guitar sound we got. It’s also a fantastic piece for the percussion who gave it plenty of welly. As the first movement progresses it loses some of that electronic flamenco feel and becomes more lyrical, but possibly not to its advantage. Mrs Chrisparkle thought – perhaps a little unkindly – that there was an element of lift music about it. I must say it put me in mind of a film score; but I guess the point is we both felt it was rather “background” music rather than something that commanded one’s attention.

The second movement is Adagio sostenuto, an homage to Elgar. The programme notes explain that Graham Roberts asked Stephen Goss to come up with a British alternative to the slow movement to Rodrigo’s Guitar Concerto de Aranjuez, and that the result is something very Elgarian in mood. He’s not kidding. As you get into that second movement it screams Nimrod at you. Possibly a little too much for me, as I felt it stopped being an homage and became more like a derivative influence. The kind part of me tells you it was splendidly played and a clever, tuneful doff of the cap to Elgar; and the unkind part of me tells you I would have preferred to have stayed at home with my CD of the Enigma Variations. The truth is somewhere between the two.

The finale, allegro molto, was, we both agreed, the most rewarding of the three movements, with fantastic Cuban rhythms and more wonderful contributions from the percussion. It was full of attack and very tuneful. However, during the interval both Mrs C and I agreed that – just maybe – the concerto would have worked slightly better as a purely symphonic piece. But then, what do we know?

After the interval, Graham Roberts was back to give us his Rodrigo’s Guitar Concerto. Acoustic Spanish guitar this time, perhaps? No, it was a distinctly plugged version. In both his performances Mr Roberts had struggled a bit with the tuning – he actually told us that the dressing room was too cold for the strings to warm up – and whereas I didn’t think that affected his playing of the Goss, I did feel there was some detriment to the Rodrigo, particularly in the third movement where I thought he was distinctly off a couple of times. Additionally, I also felt in the first movement, the orchestra was a little loud for the guitar – or the guitar was too soft for the orchestra. Just a couple of times you couldn’t quite hear where Rodrigo was going with it. But no real worries; it is of course a mellifluously lovely piece of music and it’s really delightful to let it waft over you, transporting you to your own private Spanish heaven; and in that super second movement, Graham Roberts teased some extraordinary delicacies out of those strings.

Top of the bill, so to speak, and because you really can’t play anything after it, we were treated to a performance of Ravel’s Bolero. We saw the RPO perform this here two years ago and it was stunning. Again, it was a superb performance, and particular commendations have to go to the man on the snare drum. He starts the whole thing off and has to keep going right to the bitter end – an extraordinary feat I think. He was great. All the woodwind too, especially the flute and clarinet, were particularly splendid in that performance and made those early moments of the piece really sweet and exotic. When the strings kicked in they were majestic too. It seems a shame to mention the celeste, but unfortunately it squeaked a little painfully alongside the piccolos; not quite sure what went wrong there. But the whole thing built to a magnificent climax and ended as dramatically as you could imagine.

Great to see a really packed house enjoy such an enjoyable programme of music, especially the combination of the familiar with the new. It wasn’t perfect, but it was played by humans, and humans aren’t perfect. Moreover, it was played with huge skill and commitment, and, as ever, we walked home grateful for the privilege of having a theatre like the Derngate with an orchestra like the RPO on our doorstep.

Review – Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Derngate, Northampton, English Classics with Julian Lloyd Webber, November 27th 2011

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A welcome return to the Derngate for the RPO with what was for us our inaugural concert of the season (as we missed the first concert in September), a programme of English Classics. Our conductor was Barry Wordsworth, looking most amiable in his trendy black shirt. I like the way he brings the best out of the musicians in a calm and considered manner, rather than leaping about like a maniacal March Hare. He’s much more dignified.

The first piece on offer was Delius’ Walk to the Paradise Garden, which was new to me and was full of lush strings and cosy chords – a musical version of comfort eating. It felt warm and summery, unashamedly self-indulgent, and was a very enjoyable introduction to the evening.

Next was Elgar’s Cello Concerto, with the soloist Julian Lloyd Webber. When I originally heard that he was to be performing in this concert, I was extremely excited at the prospect. He is, after all, a Big Name. Would he live up to his reputation?

He has a great physical presence when fronting the orchestra; very tall, with the wildest of hair that’s surely never seen the inside of a Toni and Guy, nevertheless sporting a discreet headband to keep it out of his eyes during the more passionate cadenzas. He wore a Bohemian blue shirt that would not have looked out of place on an 18th century shepherd. And it’s a slightly bizarre sight to see him walk on and off the stage, going sideways up and down the steps one at a time, carefully and gingerly, so that he doesn’t accidentally trip and smash his “Barjansky” Stradivarius cello from c.1690 (which would be an awful shame).

His playing is, as you would expect, a complete delight. It’s soft and warm, mature and emotional. If his cello were a fine cognac, his music would be the deepest, finest, most delicate tasting that you’ve ever enjoyed; no cheap Metaxa here, this is your yummiest Camus at the very least. I particularly enjoyed the way he interacted with the lead violinist. Some soloists can appear rather aloof and retreat into themselves; Mr Lloyd Webber, however, seemed to act simply as another member of the orchestra, constantly eyeing the lead violin and the conductor for mutual reassurance that they were happy everything was going ok. He seems to me to be a great team player. I admired that.

After the interval we had Vaughan Williams’ Fifth Symphony, which was also new to me. I really enjoyed it. Would it be banal of me to say that was because it was full of lovely tunes? That’s how it came across. I particularly loved the Cor Anglais in the third movement, beautifully played by Leila Ward; and also the combined sound of the strings just seemed to swell out to fill all the available musical bandwidth the Derngate can offer. The RPO doing their version of Phil Spector’s Wall of Sound, maybe?

A wonderful evening, perhaps more relaxing than stimulating, not that there’s anything wrong with that. Here’s to the next one!

Review – Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Last Night of the Proms, Derngate, Northampton, June 12th 2011

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The Royal Philharmonic’s Orchestral Season 2010-11 at the Derngate in Northampton came to a close on Sunday night with a Last Night of the Proms programme. An excuse for lots of short pieces of musical brilliance, rather like a Works Outing at Classic FM. The orchestra was conducted by Stephen Bell in a bright and breezy mood, encouraging a bit of audience singing during the well known Last Night numbers, but also doing his day job of keeping those RPO-types nicely in synch.

One of the best performances of the night came with the first piece, Franz von Suppé’s Light Cavalry Overture, where the drums and percussion played their parts with real zest and musicality. It was a wonderful start to the night. It was going to be a fun evening for the percussion, as they had lots of opportunities to make their mark on many of the pieces on offer. A good example of this was Strauss’ Champagne Polka, which had a very amusing “popping cork” sound effect!

Guest soprano was Rebecca Bottone. Normally one associates big-voiced opera singers with big-framed people, so that when they sing “they call me little Mimi” or something like that one has to suspend one’s disbelief somewhat. I have no idea how Rebecca Bottone gets such a full and beautiful voice out of such a tiny frame! Her performances were all superb, and included Song to the Moon from Rusalka by Dvořák, and O mio babbino caro by Puccini (which, as usual, elicited a slight tear on my part); but I wanted to pay particular compliments to her performance of Sempre libera from La Traviata which was sprinkled with fantastic coloratura effects, and also to say that it was wonderful, as always, to hear Rule Britannia decently sung.

One piece I was specifically looking forward to hearing was Saint-Saëns’ Danse Macabre, as it was one of the earliest pieces of classical music I remember as a child and it has always had a special place in my heart. I’ve heard this piece played slowish and fastish. When you play it slowish you get the full resonance from the violins and horns, and you wallow in its eeriness. When you play it fastish what you lose in musicality you gain in spine tingling thrill. Stephen Bell went for the slowish option, and it was very enjoyable. I did think at one stage that the sound got a little soggy but it was only briefly. I was always going to be hard to please with this one.

Other highlights of the evening were a superb performance of Barber’s Adagio for Strings – you know that bit where the violins get higher and higher and shriller and shriller – and then you suddenly get left in a vacuum – that was most effective and definitely gave you goose bumps; and a very lively and entertaining performance of the Liberty Bell March, where once again the percussion had a lot of fun clanging.

When it came to the final sequence of traditional Last Night pieces, they played two elements of the Henry Wood’s Fantasia on British Sea Songs: Tom Bowling and the Hornpipe. Of course the hornpipe got everyone happy clapping along, but the cello solo on the Tom Bowling was absolutely magnificent. I reckon from my programme that must have been played by Victoria Simonsen and she was a complete star.

Finally we got a very rewarding encore in the form of the Great Gate at Kiev from Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition, again another chance for the percussion to play at doorchimes to thrilling effect. The whole orchestra sounded crisp, powerful and triumphant.

Mrs Chrisparkle and I agreed that one aspect of a programme like this, that has 17 individual pieces of music, plus an encore, is that nothing lasts long enough really to get your teeth into, or to lose yourself in your imagination. Not a criticism, just an observation, and rather an obvious one too. The RPO have provided us with plenty of other opportunities to dig deep into more searching and challenging pieces though, and I know will continue to do so in the future.

So thank you to the Royal Philharmonic for a wonderful season, and we already have our names down for five concerts for the 2011-12 season which contains some thrillingly famous soloists and some great works to enjoy. Bring it on!

Review – Grand Tchaikovsky Gala, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Derngate, Northampton, May 8th 2011

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An almost full house to see another concert by the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra at the Derngate in Northampton – a Grand Tchaikovsky Gala. So you knew in advance it was going to be a musically bumptious night and as usual the Royal Philharmonic were well up for the job. Our conductor for the evening was Grzegorz Nowak, whose biography in the programme virtually filled up two pages. He’s a commanding figure on the podium – sometimes looking avuncular, sometimes stern; imposingly broad-shouldered he sways stiffly with his baton and clearly goes to the same hairdresser as Boris Johnson.

First on offer was Marche Slave, which I don’t think I’d heard before. It’s kind of Tchaikovsky by numbers, and almost every style of music of which you think he’d be capable is crammed into this piece. So it makes for a stimulating introduction, but it’s not something you’d go out of your way to check back on.

Much more rewarding was the Piano Concerto No 1, with soloist Alessandro Taverna (I’m sure that’s a bistro in Corfu). When he walks on to the stage he looks slight and unassuming; he reminded me of the young Roger Rees in Nicholas Nickleby when he’s all earnest and insecure. He took a while to get comfortable on the piano stool too, with his jacket tails getting stuck in an out-of-focus position. But once he started, he was genius! His playing was really superb. He captured the drama and romanticism of the piece, and provided the necessary light and shade to break up the otherwise relentless Tchiakovskiness of the evening. I didn’t get past Grade IV piano so I’m no judge but I don’t think he put a foot or indeed a hand wrong in the entire piece. The audience loved it and gave him possibly the warmest reception I’ve heard at one of these concerts. As a treat afterwards he encored with a short jazzy piece from Friedrich Gulda’s “Play Piano Play” which really showed his skill and bravura.

After the interval we got the Capriccio Italien (which is not, as I had originally thought, an antipasto) which seemed to be a lot of introductory fanfare but then turning out a bit insubstantial as a piece. Fantastic sound from the brass section though. Then there were some extracts from the Nutcracker, and you realise as you hear them what terrific short tunes they are. Putting them together like that is like having a plate of five sweet cakes which you eat one after another. Gorgeous whilst you’re munching, but quickly over, and providing a slight feeling of sickliness afterwards. Mrs Chrisparkle and I also observed that it is impossible to hear “Dance of the Mirlitons” without singing to oneself “everyone’s a fruit and nutcase” a la Frank Muir.

The final piece was (surprise surprise) the 1812 Overture. Chance for the percussion to rule, and they took the opportunity magnificently. I particularly liked the incessantly clanging chimes and of course the cannon sounds made by what sounded like the most intimidatingly large drum imaginable. It was all very enthralling and enjoyable. Again the audience responded most warmly and with great respect. Shame the two violinists furthest stage right at the front couldn’t have suspended their conversation during the applause. There’s no greater way of dissing the audience! Anyway, small cavil. We had a great time, and look forward to the RPO’s return next month!