Tag Archives: RPO

Review – The Last Night of the Derngate Proms, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 17th July 2016

Posted on by

Mrs Chrisparkle and I have always enjoyed our visits to the Last Night of the Proms – Derngate style, that is – although we did once get to see the real thing in the Albert Hall which was indeed a privilege. As usual, I booked for this show as part of our subscription package with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. The Last Night is always a very entertaining – if essentially shallow – flick through some of Classic’s Greatest Hits in the lead up to the usual flag-waving extravaganza of Rule Britannia, Jerusalem and Land of Hope and Glory.

The Derngate Auditorium was packed to the rafters for this final concert in the RPO’s annual season. Our conductor was Gareth Hudson, new to us, and as Mr Hudson himself explained, he was new to Northampton. But I think both Mr Hudson and Northampton got on very well with each other. He’s a charming host, with a reassuring voice of honey, providing an entertaining and informative running commentary on all the pieces we were going to hear. As a conductor, he’s not one of those who over-exerts himself but manages to get the best from the orchestra whilst retaining a simple air of dignity and authority. In honour of the gala occasion, the word had gone out to the ladies of the RPO to wear strikingly coloured gowns, so the stage was awash with beautiful reds, greens, and blues. Mrs C pointed out that if I mentioned what the ladies were wearing, I should, for the sake of equality, also pass comment on the gentlemen’s appearance. They were in their stock penguin suits. They obviously didn’t get the same memo. However, if we are concentrating on appearances, I must congratulate harpist Mr Hugh Webb on his spectacular moustache. His harpistry was pretty spectacular too.

There were eighteen pieces to listen to. Eighteen! Seventeen in the programme and one encore. Given that the concert lasted about 2 hours and 20 minutes, and including 20 minutes for the interval and say 20 minutes for chat and applause, I estimate the average time per musical item to be about 5 and a half minutes. It’s not really long enough to get fully engrossed in any particular piece; but on the plus side, if you don’t like any particular item, it won’t be long before it’s over and the next one has started!

The programme began with the overture to Rossini’s Thieving Magpie – probably one of the longer pieces of the evening as it happens – lively, fun, and full of the joys of orchestration. The RPO were obviously going to be on great form. Then came the Intermezzo from Cavalleria Rusticana, one of my favourite pieces of music, played with lush exquisiteness by the strings. When I was a kid I wanted to write an opera (I know, always had grand plans, me); I often used to think how chuffed Mascagni must have been to win that opera-writing competition, and what a brass neck he had to write the Intermezzo so that his two-act opera became a one-act opera, and therefore eligible for the prize. Clever chap.

So that was two Italians – now for a Czech: Dvořák’s Song to the Moon, from his opera Rusalka. We welcomed soprano Deborah Norman to the stage for the first of four appearances to sing this famous aria, although it’s not one with which I’m that attuned. Miss Norman certainly transported us to a lunar scenario, with her engaging interpretation and glittery voice. Then we had the famous Onedin Line theme from Khachaturian’s Spartacus suite – I know he didn’t strictly write it for the BBC but it’s what every one of my generation associates with it. I thought this was performed absolutely terrifically; incredibly stirring, a full tidal wave of emotion. Khachaturian was to be the first of two Russians – next was Tchaikovsky with the Sleeping Beauty Waltz, a timeless piece of sheer delight, again played beautifully by the orchestra.

Anyone who knows me, understands that I don’t do Gilbert and Sullivan. Yes, I know, it’s a failing on my part; and I have tried, believe me. But, as the old song in Liza of Lambeth goes, nothing is duller than Gilbert and Sullivan, in the British tradition they’re palpably rooted, the music is trivial and far from convivial, the words are appallingly convoluted. (Don’t worry, I won’t quote the whole song.) So I confess I wasn’t looking forward to Deborah Norman’s performance of The Sun Whose Rays Are All Ablaze (even the title is so trite in its need to rhyme) by Sir Arthur Sullivan, an aria (if you can call it that) from The Mikado. But, guess what? I really enjoyed it! I think it was the first time I’ve ever enjoyed any one song from G&S. Don’t get me wrong – I’m never going to be a convert. But I was most surprised to hear its delicacy and sweetness.

After the atrocity in Nice on Friday, Gareth Hudson simply said in his introduction to the next piece that he would like to dedicate it to the people of France. André Caplet’s orchestral arrangement of Debussy’s Clair de Lune received a stunning performance from the orchestra and it was a very moving moment. The first half of the concert wound up with another blistering performance, this time of Bizet’s L’Arlésienne Suite, No 2: Farandole, a piece I can never remember until I hear it, which is when I instantly remember how much I love it.

It was after the interval that things just started to get a little weird. Not musically – by any means; the RPO continued to give a fantastic performance. Mrs C and I just got the sense that this year’s flag-waving jingoism had taken on a little more… shall we say, sinister aspect. It all started in the first piece after the interval, the splendid overture to the operetta Light Cavalry by Franz von Suppé. The orchestra really got into its military stride with this, creating a fantastic rhythm; but the elderly lady sitting further along the row from us got totally carried away and started to pretend that she was on a horse, bobbing up and down with the rhythm, swaying the reins, and basically giving us all the giddy-ups. That’s fine. Good music well performed can do this to a person.

We welcomed back Deborah Norman to give us a tender rendition of Je veux vivre, from Gounod’s Romeo et Juliette. This piece was new to me and I found it very touching and full of that youthful enthusiasm we would associate with the young tragic heroine. Then it was time for the Polonaise from Tchaikovsky’s Eugene Onegin. We saw this performed in Bratislava a few years ago and absolutely loved it – but I regret I couldn’t particularly remember the Polonaise. The RPO gave it a full-on rumbustious run for its money and the audience responded really warmly to it. Then came – for me, at least – perhaps the most rewarding performance of the evening – Two Songs Without Words (Country Song and Marching Song) by Gustav Holst. As Mr Hudson mentioned in his introduction, Holst’s back catalogue became completely eclipsed (pardon the pun) by the success of his Planets Suite, reducing the rest of his output to virtual insignificance. So here were two earlier pieces that rarely get performed, and I thought they were sensational. This is the English Folk Music-inspired Holst, rather than the astronomically-inspired version, although I definitely heard a music prequel of Jupiter somewhere in there. A fantastic performance of (for me) an exciting find. This section of the concert wrapped up with (as the RPO often do) those few minutes of intense emotion that constitute Nimrod, from Elgar’s Enigma Variations. Nimrod never does quite give you that same tingle when it’s played outside of the context of a full performance of the Variations, but nevertheless, it’s still a magnificent piece and gives you a few moments to cherish those you love and remember those you’ve lost.

It was Gareth Hudson’s introduction to the final sequence of patriotic numbers that encapsulated whatever it was that had been bothering us. He said (and I paraphrase) that no matter how we all voted in a certain referendum recently, we should take the opportunity to allow the evening’s music to unite us. Now forgive me, gentle reader, for going off piste here, and I know this may alienate many of you to bring politics into music, but Mrs C and I are still very much coming to terms with (what we feel is) the (disastrous) result of the referendum. The wounds have gone very deep; it’s going to be a long time before the healing takes place (indeed, if it ever does). Surrounded by an audience made up of almost entirely white, middle-aged to elderly, middle-class Northamptonians (our town voted 59-41 in favour of Brexit) we suddenly realised the extent to which we were in the minority in that room. The patriotism of our neighbours all waving the flags and standing, Nuremberg rally-like, to Land of Hope and Glory, felt very, very uncomfortable. I can’t help it – at the moment I’m not proud of our country, so I couldn’t permit myself to get up and join the others. I was happy to sing it, as I always am. But there was a swelling of nationalistic pride going on in that hall on Sunday night with which I really did not want to associate myself.

Back on piste. Our final sequence of music was as unchanging as the waning moon, starting with Tom Bowling and the Hornpipe from Sir Henry Wood’s Fantasia on British Sea Songs. Mr Hudson introduced lead cellist Tim Gill for the Tom Bowling and he was exceptional as usual, bringing out all that deep-seated sadness and searing emotion from its lamentation-like theme. The Hornpipe, of course, couldn’t be a greater juxtaposition, with Mr Hudson already encouraging us to clap along, even if, (of course), we all did it too loudly, too enthusiastically, and too early. Ms Norman returned for the final time (a little early in fact, as Mr Hudson was still humiliating us with My Bonnie Lies Over The Ocean, making us stand, then sit, each time a word beginning with a B comes along – think about it, it gets exhausting) for Rule, Britannia! And I really appreciate it when all three verses are sung in full. Jerusalem, which followed, has much claim to be my own personal favourite song of all time, and nothing’s going to stop me from bellowing each syllable as if I were still in Morning Assembly in 1973. And finally, a lively and fun performance of the Pomp and Circumstance March No 1, which got our Cavalry overture lady up on her feet at the first whiff of a land of Hope and Glory. All credit to her, when no one else got up so early she didn’t budge but held her ground. Classic rule – if you ovate and no one else does, it looks appalling if you sit down again. Have the courage of your convictions! Reservations (as per the previous paragraph) aside, it was a wonderful performance.

And it was also with great pleasure that I realised it wasn’t to be quite the final number of the night. As an encore, and once again with a respectful nod to France and maybe something to assuage the Bremainers, Mr Hudson returned to the podium to crack out a fun and frolicsome performance of Offenbach’s Infernal Galop from Orpheus in the Underworld – the Can Can. Now that did deserve an ovation.

No more Royal Philharmonic Orchestra here in Northampton until much later in the year – and unfortunately we can’t make that concert! Still we’ll look forward to re-acquainting ourselves with the RPO next February.

Review – The Planets: An HD Odyssey, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 26th June 2016

Posted on by

Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast. Mrs Chrisparkle’s and my combined breasts were feeling particularly savage after the slings and arrows of outrageous referendum results, so we were really looking forward to an evening in the company of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra who have so many times in the past coddled us, cushioned us, and sent us on our way home with a warm Ready-Brek glow. We also had friends up from Leatherhead joining us for the concert and we met Mr Smallmind there too, now such a permanent fixture at the R&D that an orchestra member asked his help in shifting his instrument up the cordoned-off Royal stairs post-concert.

Sometimes theatre or concert programming taps into the Zeitgeist and it wasn’t long before there were very few tickets left for this concert; and indeed it was a sell-out on the night. It was great to see so many families going out to enjoy this special space-themed selection of classical hits. The main attraction was to be the performance of Holst’s Planets Suite accompanied by a film created in collaboration with NASA and award-winning producer/director Duncan Copp, and featuring the latest high definition planetary images of NASA’s exploration of the solar system. I wondered to what extent the multimedia accompaniment would enhance or maybe diminish Holst’s commanding music. But more of that later…

Our conductor for the evening was Robert Ziegler. It was the first time we had seen Mr Ziegler on the podium. He comes out onto the stage, enthusiastic and with an air of kind-hearted wisdom, like a good-tempered History teacher, if one of those ever existed. With his jazzy shirt and black velour jacket, you sense he could be a man of many surprises. He certainly got the best out of the RPO, who gave us an evening of sparkle and chic, with really crisp playing and fantastic timing.

The first half was a fascinating mix of little classical jewels, all with an eye to the celestial. We started with the opening of Richard Strauss’s Also Sprach Zarathustra – giving the concert the equivalent of a musical lift-off – and I’d forgotten what a thrilling little piece it is; for an overture-in-miniature, it sure packs a punch! This was followed by Strauss’s (different Strauss) Blue Danube Waltz; also known, in the programme, as On the Beautiful Blue Danube; I’m not sure if the Dowager Mrs Chrisparkle’s lyrics to it “The Danube is blue, it’s blue, it’s blue, I tell you it’s blue, it’s blue, it’s blue…” are entirely pure Strauss. Anyway the orchestra played it with swaying delight, hitting that first phrase of the chorus with wonderful as slow as you dare characterisation. You could almost feel the fairground merry-go-round whipping up to speed as the waltz gained traction. Really enjoyable.

An interesting third item: Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor, but not played on the organ, but as a full orchestral piece as arranged by Leopold Stokowski. It’s a composition I love; and what I most enjoyed about this performance was the way in which the orchestra played some of it slow and stately, and other parts quick and quirky. It really lent itself to this different arrangement. (But I do prefer it done on the organ!) Next was the Allegretto from Beethoven’s 7th symphony; always moving, a strange mixture of the sombre and the triumphant. Again, beautifully played by the orchestra, that thick pizzicato tattoo that runs throughout the piece like a stick of rock creating a strong sense of unease and drama. It’s better when played in the context of the full symphony I feel, but nevertheless it was a super example of one of Classics’ Greatest Hits. Finally, we came much more up to date with the Main Theme to John Williams’ Star Wars: dynamic, exciting, irreverent; the violins could have been light-sabres and we could have become enmeshed in full intergalactic battle.

After the interval, we came back for the Main Event – The Planets. The orchestra took their places. Mr Ziegler returned to his podium. Unusually, the lights dimmed, like we were in a cinema, apart from the bright lamps illuminating the orchestra members’ music stands. And just as you thought Mr Z was about to cue in Mars… the movie started. NASA scientists giving their opinions on whether or not Holst characterised the planets correctly. OK…I’ll go with it, I thought to myself, but I hope they don’t push it… Eventually the movie announced Mars, The Bringer of War. This worked so, so well. Really fascinating and beautifully photographed footage of the red planet combined by an absolutely riveting performance of seven of the finest minutes in classical music. Not only a first class performance but absolute timing precision so that the footage on the screen changed at exactly the same instant as the first beat of the next bar in the music. A fantastic combination – I was pretty much gobsmacked.

Sadly, visually, for me at least, that was the most exciting footage by a long baton. The subsequent cinematographic accompaniments for each planet were attractive and nicely realised I guess, but as it went on, I felt like the visual effect created a laziness in one’s head; it served to limit one’s imagination and emotional response to each piece of music rather than enhancing it; and by the time we’d got to Jupiter – which has so many memories for me of my teenage years and all absolutely nothing to do with astronomy – I decided to shift my concentration from the screen to the musicians. Jupiter was performed with a freshness and vitality that I think you could simply describe as awesome. Whether the I Vow To Thee My Country section had an extra post-referendum resonance I could not tell; for me it had an interesting lack of sentimentality which I actually found quite refreshing.

Moving on; the words on the screen: Saturn The Bringer of Old Age created a few chuckles from around the auditorium as grandparents wrestled with cheeky grandchildren; and, no doubt about it, in the movie accompaniment – nice rings. Uranus always reminds me more of a sea shanty than a magician, so it was back to concentrating on the instruments for me. We ended with a stunningly eerie performance of Neptune, The Mystic; when the disembodied choral voices joined in, it was a moment of sheer dramatic magic. The programme promised us the Northampton Bach Choir, but they were nowhere to be seen, which caused a little post-show controversy amongst our party. Were the voices recorded? Or were the Northampton Bach Choir lurking backstage, as reticent to come forward as a politician to invoke Article 50?

An unusual structure for a classical concert but by and large it worked really well. Certainly the RPO were on top form and played some of Classic’s Greatest Hits with dynamism and éclat. Next up it’s the Last Night of the Derngate Proms next month – make sure you’re there!

Review – Alan Buribayev conducts Sheherazade, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 21st February 2016

Posted on by

Once again we welcomed the return of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra to the hallowed portals of the Derngate Auditorium for a programme of German and Russian music under the baton of Alan Buribayev. Mr Buribayev is new to us and cuts a dashing figure in his modernistic shiny suit. He’s one of those conductors who gets carried away with the vigour of it all and frequently ends up using his full body and not just his arms in cajoling the orchestra to give him what he wants. After real exertion he even lets out audible gasps and grunts because he’s concentrated so hard. Personally, I didn’t mind that. It makes you realise that this music business isn’t just pretty-pretty but also has its fair share of blood, toil, tears and sweat. I felt I got my money’s worth.

Our first piece was the overture to the Flying Dutchman by Wagner. I always like it when they start a concert with an overture. It just feels right. They’re designed to capture your attention, give you a lot of tuneage in a reasonably short space of time, and then leave you wanting more at the end. This overture does all that in bucket loads. An orchestral interpretation of a windswept storm-tossed sea, there were plenty of waves breaking on rocky shore to get your musical taste buds flowing. Full of attack, the violins in particular gave a terrific account of themselves; which would also be a foretaste of the excitement yet to come. A really great opener.

Second up was Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto, featuring our soloist Anna-Liisa Bezrodny. With a conductor from Kazakhstan and a soloist born in Moscow, it truly was a cosmopolitan bill of fare. Who knew that Tchaikovsky only wrote one violin concerto? I’d have thought he’d have made it a speciality. But no, he wrote just the one, at great speed, and the programme notes tell us how personally liberating it was for him to produce it. It’s well known for being a real challenge to play – technically demanding to the highest degree, so it needs a fantastic soloist.

Step up to the mark Ms Bezrodny. A vision in shimmering scarlet, she took her place at the front of the orchestra like the brightest crown jewel fronting the plainest crown (and here I mean no disservice to the other musicians). Even when she’s tackling what are obviously the most challenging passages, she seems to do it with natural ease. The effort and concentration required to play the concerto come from an inner strength rather than an outward show. Her playing was extraordinary. She evinced such complex musicality from her Amati violin. Even in the hustle and bustle of the vigour of the music, she never sacrificed purity of tone; in fact she seemed to create one where you wouldn’t have thought it possible. The audience were spellbound – you could have heard the proverbial pin drop. Her first movement cadenza especially was out of this world. Even though it’s frowned on to do so, a large proportion of the audience could not hold back from rapturous applause at the end of the first movement, so mind-blowing was the performance. The concerto is a stunning piece, so full of different moods and emotions, and Ms Bezrodny was more than a match for it. Everyone went into the interval gobsmacked with pleasure.

The second half of the concert was devoted to a performance of Rimsky-Korsakov’s Sheherazade. It’s one of those pieces that I always know that I really like, but for some reason, whenever I think of it I can never quite bring the themes to mind. I have no idea why that is, because it is a really stirring piece of music, again with so many wonderful melodies and textures. Mr Buribayev encouraged terrific performances from the entire orchestra but the contribution from the violins was just amazing. It was almost as though they had said during the interval we can’t let that soloist take all the credit, we’ve got to show them what we’re made of too – this was particularly evident in the first and final movements.

Elsewhere I thought Daniel Jemison made a particularly fine effort with his bassoon portraying the Kalendar Prince in the second movement, Suzy Willison-Kawalec’s harp contributions were beautiful and emotional, and orchestra leader Duncan Riddell gave such a superb rendition of the triumphant Scheherazade at the end, that you couldn’t take your eyes of his bow. By keeping his arms outstretched for the longest possible time, Mr Buribayev dramatically kept the silence at the end of the piece until we were literally bursting to applaud; and as conductor congratulated First Violinist at the end I could lip-read him saying to Mr Riddell the words “absolutely outstanding”, which must be high praise indeed. And who would disagree? A stunning performance from everyone involved – one of those occasions when you walk back home afterwards realising you had witnessed something very special. A brilliant night.

P.S. Shockingly, Anna-Liisa Bezrodny doesn’t have a Wikipedia entry. Someone needs to do something about this!

P.P.S. This year it’s the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra’s 70th birthday. They’re looking in fine fettle. Must be eating very healthily and taking lots of exercise. Congratulations to them!

Review – Natalie Clein Performs Dvořák, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Derngate, Northampton, 31st May 2015

Posted on by

Always a pleasure to welcome the Royal Philharmonic to Northampton, this time for a varied programme of classical delights featuring cellist supreme, Natalie Clein. This is not the first time Miss Clein has been the soloist in an RPO concert here. In fact, five years ago, she played the self-same Cello Concerto in B Minor for us in her own inimitable style. So, either she only knows how to play the one song (probably unlikely) or she knows what the public wants and how to keep with a winning streak.

Our conductor for this performance was Rory Macdonald. We’ve not seen Mr Macdonald before and it’s always fascinating to observe different conductors’ styles and approaches to their work. Either Mr Macdonald has a picture mouldering in an attic, or he is incredibly young. He reminded me of what Harry Potter’s younger brother might look like. I’ve checked – he’s 34. I bet he gets asked for ID in pubs all the time. He’s an enthusiastic but elegant conductor – when he gets into the vibe he gains extra emphasis by going up on tippy-toes, rather like the Eurovision cartoon conductor of 1992, only more soberly dressed.

Our starter for ten on this concert was to go straight into the Dvořák. Both Mrs Chrisparkle and I felt that, with such an impactful, dominant and significant piece, we could have perhaps done with starting with a light overture, some kind of warm up piece to get our juices flowing and our ears attuned to the magic of the orchestra alone. Starting with the Dvořák was like going straight into a Chateaubriand without having a little smoked salmon first.

There’s no denying Natalie Clein’s complete mastery of her instrument. Centre stage, she looks unassuming, but as soon as she gets going it’s like she takes on a new existence. Every fibre of her body gets wrapped up in the cello; watching them together it’s like a high octane marriage. They can be loving and sensitive together some of the time, at other moments it’s stormy and tempestuous. The immense depth of sound she gets out of her “Simpson” Guadagnini cello (dating from 1777 would you believe) is extraordinary. Dvořák’s Cello Concerto is a most invigorating piece, with plenty of opportunities for the orchestra to shine as well as the soloist, and we all went into the interval happy in the knowledge that we’d witnessed something special.

After our halftime Shiraz’s, we ventured back for Ravel’s Mother Goose Suite. This is a charming little collection of five short pieces, each representing a different aspect of the world of fairy tales – almost like a miniature classical version of Into The Woods. I’m not sure I’ve heard the Mother Goose suite as a whole before, but I definitely recognised a theme from Ravel’s Pavane pour une infante défunte in that opening section about Sleeping Beauty. I know the pavane wellbecause it was on my 1970s album of Ravel’s Bolero, which, as you can see from the cover, was all about the music, ahem; can’t think what drove the eleven year old me to buy it. What’s especially rewarding about this suite, along with its light-hearted effervescence and tuneful variety, is that it seems to use every conceivable instrument in the orchestra, so you get to enjoy such esoteric delights as the harp and the celeste as well as the usual brass and strings.

That piece acted as a palate cleansing sorbet before the final item – Stravinsky’s Firebird Suite. This allowed Mr Macdonald to get thoroughly swept off his feet again as he cajoled the orchestra through its lively sections (especially the Infernal dance of King Kashchei) before culminating in its grand finale. The version performed was the second suite dating from 1919, but the original version, from 1910, marked Stravinsky’s first collaboration with Diaghilev at the Ballets Russes, which made the composer an overnight sensation and international celebrity. The Stravinsky of that era was just perfect for combining dramatic accompaniment to fine dance with musical quality in its own right. The RPO gave this a magnificent, rousing performance which went down hugely with the appreciative audience.

It was all over by 9.15pm so there was a slight feeling of being short-changed time-wise, particularly as the first half really called out for a short introductory piece before the Dvořák, which would not only have got us warmed up for Natalie Clein but also extended the evening by just ten minutes or so. There are plenty of wonderful overtures out there – and that’s precisely what they’re meant to do – open the evening. Nevertheless it was still a marvellously rewarding concert, with a great soloist and the RPO on fine form. Look forward to the next one!

Review – Christoph Koenig conducts Beethoven and Elgar, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 12th April 2015

Posted on by

A welcome return to the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra visiting the hallowed halls of the Royal and Derngate, for this intense concert featuring Beethoven’s Third Symphony – the Eroica – and Elgar’s Violin Concerto with soloist Pinchas Zukerman. I say “intense” because they’re two meaty pieces, and without any side dishes like a light overture for starters or a quick entr’acte as a palate-cleanser, they took a lot of concentration and attention on the part of the audience in order to appreciate them at their fullest. They were also completely new to Mrs Chrisparkle and me vis-à-vis a concert experience. I have recordings of both somewhere in the old CD collection, but I have to say neither has ever really surfaced as a particular favourite.

Our conductor was Christoph Koenig, whom we have also never seen before, but he has a CV as a long as a baton, and he obviously inspires both confidence and respect from the orchestra. He’s quite a debonair chap, bounding on to the stage in a swish black Chairman Mao suit; and once he’s on the podium – for the opening Beethoven at least – he never stands still again. He’s the kind of conductor who throws his body heart and soul into the whole performance to encourage the very last iota of energy out of the orchestra. Cajoling here with the palm of his hand, triumphantly punching there with an upraised fist, nodding furiously as if to say “yes! yes!” to any section he might feel is being a little backward with coming forward. When he wants the orchestra to deliver the next part quietly he almost crouches down on his knees with a “shush!” before raising himself up again when it he wants it louder. He’s very entertaining to watch!

Talking of shush, there were a couple of guys a few rows in front of us who were really quite annoying. They whispered and fidgeted occasionally, which is ok in the noisy sequences but it’s nice to observe restraint during the quieter parts wherever possible. During one quiet moment in the Beethoven, one of them decided it was time to fumble with a rustly crinkly bag in order to extricate some difficult-to-find, bottom-of-the-bag sucky sweets. It completely drowned out one of Beethoven’s more delicate moments (and, let’s face it, there aren’t that many of them). They seemed totally ignorant of the fact they were in spitting distance of the back row of the first violins. You should have seen the daggers look the nearest violinist gave him. Mrs C expected him to pluck the catgut off his bow and strangle him with it. To no avail, he obviously didn’t notice, as later on, during the Elgar, he decided to start some kind of running commentary to his mate (or so it seemed to me) and once again the violinist gave him the death glare. So, please, dear classical music fans of Northampton, next time you go to see one of these concerts, would you mind shutting the ***k up? Thanks awfully.

So what of the Beethoven? According to the programme, the Eroica was inspired by his hero-worship of Napoleon; indeed it was originally to have been called the Bonaparte. But, as is often the case, your heroes have a tendency to let you down, and when Napoleon proclaimed himself Emperor, Beethoven declared he would now be no more than a simple tyrant and ripped up the dedication page of his original manuscript in a hissy fit. It is a vast, stirring, strong and moving symphony, with extensive sequences given over to buzzing violins, but also room for a funeral march, a scherzo, and an electric final movement that started within a split second of the scherzo ending; no hanging around here, as if Mr Koenig had a bus to catch. I’d noticed that the usual layout of the orchestra had been changed slightly, with the violas and the cellos having swapped places. Mrs C wondered if that was because the first violin and the violas seem to have almost a duel between themselves at times, and by facing each other they could really act out their battle of the strings. If so, it worked well, because it was a highly dramatic performance. We also appreciated the warm and rousing contribution made by the French Horns – Congratulations to Laurence Davies, Samuel Jacobs and the rest of your squad.

After spending the interval observing how long the queue for the healthy frozen yogurts are, and appreciating how much more efficient it is to pre-order one’s Shiraz, we headed back inside for the performance of Elgar’s Violin Concerto. I was particularly looking forward to hearing Pinchas Zukerman because I had read a lot about him and wanted to hear him live for myself. Mr Zukerman is definitely somebody who lets the music do the talking. He only briefly acknowledges the audience before the performance; not, one feels, out of any sense of self-importance – far from it – more out of embarrassment at being on show – don’t look at me, please could you look at my antique violin instead. When he performs he is deadly serious, concentrating hard on what he is doing, observing his fellow musicians and Mr Koenig, who incidentally stepped back into a much less flamboyant role, conducting simply and effectively from the side but with no bravura antics to distract you from Mr Zukerman’s quiet determination.

Of course, it goes without saying that technically he’s extraordinary; it was a very strong and vibrant performance. He seems to have a way of jabbing deep into the violin to scour the instrument for maximum sound and effect. Watching and listening to him was a very satisfying experience, but a challenging one. Neither of us found it an “easy” piece of music; it was demanding, serious, and without any “laughs”, if you get my drift. Despite Elgar’s own opinion that it was a highly emotional piece, for me it appealed more to the cerebral than the emotional. Maybe that is due to Mr Zukerman’s intense interpretation. But there was no doubting the audience’s appreciation, and when it was over Mr Zukerman received three “curtain calls”, much to his unassuming discomfort.

So, overall an intense and challenging evening of appreciating musical excellence. As always, you come away with a sense of privilege to be able to witness such mastery. It’s good to be confronted by something different every so often, simply to see how you react to new experiences. Rest assured, the Royal Philharmonic never let you down. Looking forward to our next concert in May!

Review – Last Night of the Derngate Proms, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 13th July 2014

Posted on by

With the BBC Proms just around the corner – first night is Friday – what better way to wrap up this year’s classical season with the RPO than by having Northampton’s very own Last Night of the Proms. This is always a fun occasion, with a packed audience, lots of flag waving, and a programme full of old favourites so that there’ll always be something for everyone.

Our conductor this year was the jovial Owain Arwel Hughes, who conducted our Last Night of the Proms concert two years ago, and who we also saw take command of Fauré’s Requiem in 2011. He’s a very warm and friendly figure on the podium, enthusiastically communicating with his musicians, and with his shock of white hair and glasses perched on the end of his nose occasionally has something of a mad professor about him.

You can’t get much more of a lively start than Rossini’s William Tell overture. It galvanised the orchestra into a buzzing frenzy for its famous last section, and from my seat I could clearly see our First Violin Favourite Mr Russell Gilbert’s bow deftly darting over the waist of his violin whilst those of his colleagues doubtless did the same. Before all that, there was, however, a beautiful cello introduction to this piece, superbly played as always by Tim Gill.

Next, we were to enjoy the first contribution to the evening by the Northampton Bach Choir – a terrific performance of Zadok the Priest, full of power, crispness and joy. We could already tell the choir were going to be on great form. Then it was time for Fauré’s Pavane, beautifully and delicately played by the orchestra, expressing all its 19th century French elegance. One aspect of the Last Night programme is that it has many more individual pieces than normal, on average much shorter in length, which adds to the variety of the evening. It can also sometimes be a little frustrating though, when you hear a short piece that by rights should be part of a larger one – as in the next piece, the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel’s Messiah. Again the choir gave it a really good performance, but you felt a slight twinge of disappointment that there wasn’t more from the Messiah for our entertainment.

he last item before the interval, which certainly wasn’t an abridgement of anything else, was Rachmaninov’s Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini. With “Hallelujah” still ringing in our ears, it was time for that laborious moving aside of all the chairs and then lugging the Steinway onto the centre of the stage. “Why can’t it be there from the start?” asked Mrs Chrisparkle with more than a little petulance. “Well there would be no room for the conductor” I suggested. “But the conductor will still be there during the piano playing” she replied. I had no answer to that. The First Violins had all huddled by the entrance stairs, as if they’d nipped out for a quick fag break. Once everything was in place, Mr Hughes returned with our soloist for the evening, Danny Driver. What an incredible performer he is. Mr Driver played with such precision and attack that it took your breath away. Amongst all the keyboard gymnastics of the Rhapsody, there’s one stand-out variation that’s extremely lush and romantic, and feels very different from the rest of the piece. Mr Driver put his heart and soul into it – and it was just sumptuous to listen to. Mrs C and I were overwhelmed by how good he was; and the orchestra also gave him superb support in what was overall a stunning performance.

After a very pleasing Cab Sav break in the interval we returned for one of my favourite pieces of classical music, Borodin’s Polovtsian Dances from Prince Igor. The female voices from the choir stood out particularly well, and whatever it was they were singing, it wasn’t Stranger in Paradise. I did have to stop myself – only partly successfully – from singing along to all the Kismet tunes. I’m only human, after all. It was a really stirring performance, and a great way to start the second half.

Then we had yet another of my favourite pieces, Nimrod from the Enigma Variations. No other piece of classical music captures that warm, safe, noble feeling of deep friendship that you get in Nimrod; but like the Hallelujah Chorus earlier on, it definitely lost something by not being part of a full Enigma performance. Normally it has me choking back the tears, but not this time. A change of mood next for Parry’s I Was Glad, with the choir in full voice, and the orchestra nicely augmented by Alistair Young on the keyboard providing a full organ effect as if we were in a massive cathedral. Visually odd, aurally wonderful.

Into the home straight with the classic final sequence. Starting off with Sir Henry Wood, we had two movements from the British Sea Songs: Tom Bowling, with Tim Gill exquisitely teasing out the melody on his cello, and the Hornpipe, which, despite Mr Hughes’ plea to allow the instrumentalists to have “first go” before we all joined in, was instantly drowned out by a few noisy people in the boxes, one of whom may well have been the manic man from last year. Being an incorrigibly obedient person, I waited with my claps and stomps until Mr Hughes cued me in. Then it was straight into Rule Britannia, with just the chorus being sung by the choir – and by us of course. I couldn’t help notice that the man with the clear voice singing behind me made two classic errors – he sang “Britannia rules the waves” (shocking) and “Britain never never never shall be slaves” (dreadful). I’m afraid the Last Night of the Proms brings out all my pomp and circumstance. Next Jerusalem, favourite classical singalong song of mine since my English teacher used to love to play it on the organ at school assembly over forty years ago. Have you noticed, at Last Nights generally, you might get an encore of Rule Britannia, Land of Hope and Glory, or the Hornpipe, or all three – but never Jerusalem. I’d be happy to start a campaign for the inclusion of Jerusalem in the repeats.

The final scheduled piece was Elgar’s Pomp and Circumstance March No 1, the aforementioned Land of Hope and Glory, where we impressed Mr Hughes with our magnificent lungs. Well not perhaps the manic man in the side stalls, whose voice clattered over everyone else’s; at first I thought we’d been joined by Zippy from Rainbow. But it wasn’t the end – they’d kept back a very appropriate encore for Northampton with a fantastic rendition of When The Saints Go Marching In, with the choir giving it everything and the orchestra loving every minute of it. A superb way to round off the evening.

Looking ahead to next year’s season, there’s some great highlights but I note that there isn’t a Last Night planned for next summer; the final concert then will be an evening of John Williams’ film music. Hmmm. Not quite the same I feel. Bring back the Last Night for 2016!

Review – Classical Masterpieces, Chloe Hanslip with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Derngate, Northampton, 4th May 2014

Posted on by

It’s always a pleasure to welcome the Royal Philharmonic to our humble little town, and for this performance of Classical Masterpieces the Derngate auditorium was more or less full to the brim. Our conductor was Nicholas Collon, new to us, and he reminded me of… well, me actually, at something of an earlier age. It wasn’t his shiny suit – I don’t think I ever went down that line – but it was the hair that did it – fair, and scruffy, and lots of it. All I can say is, watch out Mr Collon, greyness is just around the corner.

You could tell he was enjoying the proceedings, though; constantly smiling, striking a relaxed pose, making sure all the different sections of the orchestra knew where they were and checking they were alright, a bit like a musical janitor. The orchestra had had something of a jiggle around – the violas and the cellos had swapped their usual places, but I guess as long as they knew what they were playing it shouldn’t be a problem. Mr Collon’s enthusiasm certainly caught light with the orchestra and with the audience who, after almost two hours of wonderful entertainment, responded with a very warm final round of applause.

But I’ve ended before I’ve started. First on the menu was a performance of Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony. According to the programme notes he didn’t finish quite a few symphonies, so it’s a bit of a misnomer always to refer to his Symphony No 8 in that way. Still, there are definitely only two movements, which is one movement short of a picnic – symphonically speaking. It’s a very beautiful, warm, welcoming piece of music – a good choice to start off a varied evening of masterpieces. The orchestra attained a level of mellowness and mellifluousness that was jolly rewarding to listen to. All apart from the mobile phone that went off during the performance. It wasn’t one of those subtle, space age sounds – it was set to the old-fashioned 1960s “ring-ring” setting. Bit of a shame, that. I’m sure that’s not how Schubert would have chosen to finish it.

Next we had Max Bruch’s Violin Concerto No 1 in G Minor, with Chloe Hanslip as the soloist, on her “Guarneri del Gesu” 1737 violin. Not only is it a privilege to be able to watch and listen to such a gifted violinist but also to hear an instrument that is now 277 years old is just incredible. Ms Hanslip appeared, bright and enthusiastic, in a beautiful black and silver dress that showed her off very nicely indeed. She too has an endearing connection with the audience and the rest of the orchestra, frequently nodding around to make sure everyone’s enjoying themselves.

As soon as she played her first few notes, there emerged that fantastic resonance of the characterful violin – speaking its own language of music rather than just merely playing notes. It sent a shiver down my spine. Ms Hanslip gave a tremendous performance, absolutely feeling the vibe right from the start. She played with verve and panache, and indeed, an incredible feat of memory to get all those notes in her brain in the right order without a whiff of a piece of sheet music. The orchestra gave her superb support, and when it was all over you had that sense of having witnessed something really special. When Ms Hanslip came back for her second well-earned round of applause, there was the customary bouquet of flowers waiting in the wings for her, which was brought on by a young chap in a Royal and Derngate uniform, who insisted on planting a huge sucker kiss on her as reward for the embarrassment of being on stage. I don’t blame him.

After a pleasantly Merlot-filled interval, we returned for one of the all-time favourites in the classical world, Elgar’s Enigma Variations. We’d seen the RPO perform this before, and they had a lot to live up to. It’s such a magnificent work that can rend you apart with its emotions as it takes you on a wandering path past Elgar’s colleagues, friends and loved ones, stopping to share memories and point out foibles. No piece of music reflects love and friendship quite like the Enigma. Stand-out variations for me were WMB which was full of enthusiasm and humour, and Troyte, massively stirring and bold. I always look forward to Nimrod and have to steel myself lest it cause a little tear; but this time it didn’t quite move me as much as usual – it felt a little too romantic and not quite heroic enough for me. And my other favourite movement – the final one, EDU – sounded a little rushed and sloppy to me at the beginning, before everyone caught up with themselves and launched into that incredible melody. But these are minor quibbles – the whole evening was superb entertainment as always. Next up in this series – John Williams playing Rodrigo’s Concerto de Aranjuez with the RPO. Can’t wait!

Review – Mozart Requiem, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 16th February 2014

Posted on by

One of the good things about including the Northampton Bach Choir and the Boys and Men of All Saints Church Northampton in a Royal Philharmonic Orchestra concert at the Derngate is the fact that all their friends and families buy tickets so there is a virtually full house and always a fantastic atmosphere. Another is that they are extremely good at singing, but I mustn’t get ahead of myself.

This was the first time we’d seen the Royal Philharmonic since last summer, and we’ve definitely missed them. But I wasn’t entirely sure how much I would appreciate an evening of non-stop Mozart. Do you remember the criticism of him in Peter Shaffer’s Amadeus, that there are simply too many notes? That’s always struck a chord with me, if you’ll forgive the expression. However, the two pieces that made up the evening’s programme are so different in structure and content that you certainly don’t suffer a surfeit of Wolfgang.

The first part of the evening was devoted to Mozart’s Piano Concerto No 21, with the Romanian soloist Alexandra Dariescu. She was BBC Music Magazine’s Rising Star in 2011 and 2013’s “Woman of the Future” for Arts and Culture, and it’s not hard to work out why. From where we usually sit in the auditorium you can very clearly see the pianist’s hands on the keyboard, and I have to say the dexterity with which Miss Dariescu launches herself on the ivories is extraordinary. This is not a piece that necessarily calls for quite as much intense expression as some piano solos we have seen – Janina Fialkowska last year playing Chopin’s Piano Concerto No 2 comes to mind. What it does require is immense skill, incredible clarity and a great feeling for all those Mozartian scales and arpeggios, especially in the first and final movements. The Andante section in the middle is instantly recognisable as the theme to Elvira Madigan, an essential track on any 1960s easy listening album;I believe it’s even been used to flog woollen carpets in TV adverts in its time. It’s always rewarding to get the chance to hear a frequently heard piece of music in the context of its original setting, and with superb accompaniment from the orchestra Miss Dariescu made that lovely theme stand out. By the time we’d reached the final movement, I had become so mesmerised by her hands that I was struggling to concentrate. She could use that skill for hypnosis. It was a great performance that rightfully got a huge reception and during the interval the bar was buzzing with people discussing how skilfully she played it.

After our halftime Tempranillo we returned for the performance of Mozart’s Requiem. The Northampton Bach Choir and All Saints Choir had patiently sat in their seats for the duration of the piano concerto, but now it was their turn to shine. The conductor for the evening, Renato Balsadonna, is Chorus Director at the Royal Opera House Covent Garden, and he was a great choice as his specialised ability to get the best out of the vocalists was really apparent. When we saw the Northampton Bach Choir at the Last Night of the Derngate Proms lastJune, we thought they were a bit ragged at times, and suspected that there wasn’t a lot of understanding between the conductor and the choir. Not a bit of it this time. All throughout, the choir were absolutely at the top of their game – clear, forceful, gentle, emotional, triumphant and all the attributes in between – and all timed perfectly together.

The four vocal soloists were also superb – soprano Elizabeth Llewellyn, Mezzo Kitty Whately, Tenor Anthony Gregory and Baritone David Stout – investing passion, authority and personality into this glorious music. Right from the start there was a feeling of instant attack from orchestra and choirs alike: a wall of sound that filled the theatre from top to bottom. There was a palpable sense of drama and power; surely this is the most stirring music that Mozart ever wrote? Excitement and strength from the Dies Irae and the Rex Tremendae; the beauty of the solo voices in the Tuba Mirum and Recordare; the haunting choral delicacy of the Lacrimosa; all building up to a stunning climactic Sanctus and Agnes Dei, and a superb final soprano solo by Miss Llewellyn in the Lux Aeterna, who I thought was magic throughout.

My only criticism of the evening as a whole was that, as it came in at about one hour and fifty minutes, it would have been really nice to have a third, short, piece to start the proceedings, just so that we could have been introduced to the orchestra by themselves first. A little five-minute overture would have given us the chance to settle down and appreciate the various sounds that the RPO so skilfully make and get to know the conductor’s style. By going straight into the concerto at the beginning of the evening, all eyes were (quite rightly) on Miss Dariescu; and with the massed choirs and stunning soloist singers for the Requiem, I thought the orchestra itself rather missed out on their share of the glory of the evening.

Nevertheless it was still a fantastic concert with orchestra, choirs and soloists all on tip-top form. It’s a privilege to have this kind of entertainment on our doorstep.

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

Posted on by

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

Posted on by

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.