Edmon levon conducts the Valencia Youth Orchestra in Coleridge-Taylor, González Gomá, Rossini and Tchaikovsky, with Ignacio Soler

 

In human affairs, enthusiasm is often associated with youth, whereas competence that approaches perfection is usually only possible in maturity. Occasionally - just occasionally - the two qualities are combined in a single and therefore memorable event. Here, it was the music making of the Valencia Youth Orchestra. It married enthusiasm and perfection in a musical evening that all involved, musicians and audience alike, will never forget.

The Valencia Youth Orchestra can recruit players up to their mid-twenties, so here we are talking about musicians who are on the verge of their careers. In this concert, they were directed by their current guest conductor, Edmon Levon, who also introduced each piece to the audience.

The performers began with a piece by Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, an English composer, less well known in Spain than in the United Kingdom, where he is undergoing a revival that is reviving his music from an anonymity achieved by a hundred years of neglect. Despite playing for a US president and having packed out the Royal Albert Hall for years on end with his Hiawatha, his music must now be re-discovered. A movement from his African Suite had more than enough to spark interest in his always melodic music.

Enrique González Gomá, whose Ofrenda a Colombina followed, is a little-known composer even in his native Spain. He was a Valencian by birth, from Tavernes, born in 1899 and living until 1977. After the bravura and frenzy of an African dance, González Gomá’s piece offered a significant contrast. Quiet and reflective, even impressionistic, this music explores textures to evoke feelings. The effect was both magical and surprising.

In comparison to what proceeded it, Rossini’s Bassoon Concerto is quite a well-known work, though in over 50 years of concert going, I was hearing for the first time in performance. Ignacio Soler as soloist was both faultless in execution and as enthusiastic about the music as the orchestra he fronted. Rossini’s treatment of the form was distinctly operatic, with the bassoon often sounding like a singer delivering an opera aria in Rossini’s distinctly bravura, if sometimes rather predictable style. The quality of invention in his music, however, is undeniable, even if at times one feels as though one may have heard it before somewhere else!

The enthusiasm of the audience reaction prompted Ignacio Soler to present an encore, for which he was joined by two of the bassoons from the orchestra to play the Tango by Martinez. In this piece, a perhaps cliché tune is passed skilfully between the three players. The sonority of the bassoon trio is utterly surprising, and the ensemble suggests improvisation, even in its absence.

In the second half, the Valencia Youth Orchestra played one of the symphonies that define music. Tchaikovsky Pathetique, Symphony No. 6, is not just a staple of the orchestral repertoire, it is one of its mainstays. This is a work that not only never disappoints, but it also actually grows with repeated hearings.

It is music that, I believe, is ruined by applause between movements. The transition, especially from movements three to four, is crucial to the work’s emotional argument and all tension associated with being “right up there” one moment and “right down there” in the next is dissipated by audience intervention. Edmon Levon, I suspect, agrees with this, and when the audience applauded after the first movement, he half turned to acknowledge but in a single gesture managed to communicate that the end of the work would be more appropriate.

Tchaikovsky 6 is a mammoth work that demands real musical maturity alongside perfection of ensemble. There were one or two rhythmic stutters in the fast third movement, but nothing to detract from the experience. Personally, I found the horns of the opening of the fourth too loud, but I am splitting hairs.

The audience reaction to this great music was nothing less than ecstatic. Thus, we were treated to an encore. What to play after a work like Tchaikovsky 6 is a problem. Edmon Levon contrasted Tchaikovsky’s emotional paroxysms with Ravel’s detachment. We heard the final section of the Mother Goose suite, and its largely modal harmonies were quite surprising after the symphony’s outbursts. We had a real Valencia bash to finish, a piece that the orchestra played largely undirected, with Edmon Levon taking a seat in the stalls. At the end, the whole orchestra stood, still playing. The audience followed suit, applauding.

Carlos Santo plays Tchaikovsky in a remarkable free concert in ADDA, Alicante: En homenaje a D. Rafael Beltran

This was a free concert “En homenaje a D. Rafael Beltran. Fundador de la Sociedad de Conciertos de Alicante” who died last month at the age of 93. Carlos Santo, aged 25, paid personal homage to his memory by playing an encore of the theme from Bach’s Goldberg Variations which, he said, was a special piece for Rafal Bertran.

The evening opened with a quite superb Romeo and Juliet Fantasy Overture. The timing, phrasing, dynamics and togetherness of this ADDA orchestra is now outstanding. Tchaikovsky’s score is a masterpiece. He does not follow a straight dramatic path through the story, preferring to highlight certain emotional responses. There is no doubt whatsoever about the physical nature of the lovers’ relationship when one hears that beautiful flowing theme from the whole orchestra. There is also no doubt about the conflict that rages between their two families.

Tchaikovsky’s First Piano Concerto can often be played like it’s a motion that has to be gone through. Not so in the hands of Carlos Santo. A local lad whose career was aided by concerts awarded in Alicante by the society founded by Rafael Bertran, Carlos Santo gave perhaps the most lyrical performance of this work that I have ever heard. It’s just two months ago that we heard Shunta Morimoto play it in Elche. We were quite removed from the stage on that evening, whereas last night we were in row three and central, meaning that we were perhaps just ten metres from the keyboard.

His every phrase was thought out. There was never an occasion when this pianist played one of the big chordal sections as a piece of gymnastics. Not that Shunta did either, but here we were close enough to feel involved with the process. In the “cadenza” close to the end of the first movement, there are alternate phases, slow legato juxtaposed with those with more energy. Certainly in the slow phrases, one can surely hear Scriabin’s style, or perhaps it should be said that Scriabin essentially adopted some elements of Tchaikovsky.

The selection from Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet that followed we have heard several times. But no matter how many times I hear this music, I always hear something new. The viola solo was quite wonderful, as was the playing of that chord towards the end of the tomb scene, where the entire world seems to collapse. It makes musical sense to play the Death of Tybalt at the end, but for anyone who understands anything about the drama, the tomb scene cannot be followed by this music. The musical effect is of course superb. And, at risk of repeating myself, this is a great orchestra.

ADDA under Josep Vicent in Saint-Saens and Strauss, with Daniel Oyarzabal, Amanda Forsyth and Pinchas Zuckerman

Stars shine brightly and that shining can cover immense distances. Their light travels in straight lines, unless there is, as Einstein described, another immense mass nearby – perhaps another star, and then it curves. The star of Saint-Saens’s Symphony No. 3 is the organ. It is even known as the Organ Symphony, despite the fact that the organ is silent for most of the work’s duration, and the fact that the organ part is largely written to enhance the power of the orchestral tutti. It does come to the fore briefly in the slow movement, but, if it is then a star, it burns out quite quickly. Precisely why the composer also included a piano in the orchestration still baffles me, because the piano’s contribution could so easily have been achieved differently, for instance, by pizzicato in the strings.

And it’s not that this star had to shine from afar. The ADDA auditorium does not have an organ, and, occasionally, when an organ was obligato for a given piece, an electric variety was shipped in. But these were Baroque pieces with organ continuo, with none of the blazing fortés that the Saint--Saens demanded.

It is about a kilometre from the ADDA auditorium to Alicante Cathedral and it was that church’s organ which was played by Daniel Oyarzabal and relayed live in projection on the back wall of the stage. The technical feat in accomplishing this was huge. And it was a resounding success, although I did detect a slight delay in the organ part, not because of the playing, obviously, but because of the inherent latency of the electronics. The speed of light is immense, but a delay of just the smallest fraction of a second alongside tutti at near presto tempo is discernible.

Not that this shortcoming affected the quality of the performance, which was truly wonderful. Personally, I prefer the first movement punchier, but this more romantic reading made perfect and lyrical sense. It was an immense achievement for all concerned, not least for the ADDA orchestra, who had a quite superb evening.

Speaking of brilliance being a little curved when another massive source is nearby, the evening began with a beautifully played Don Quixote of Richard Strauss. Amanda Forsyth’s cello played the delusional but lovable Quixote and her husband, Pinchas Zuckerman, chipped in on the witty viola as Sancho Panza. Not only were the orchestral textures exquisite, but the storytelling came to the fore in this performance via Josep Vicent’s reading. The orchestral detail achieved by this combination of conductor and orchestra was at times breathtaking, most of all in the slower, quieter passages where the composer juxtaposed widely varied sonorities. There is perhaps not enough of a role for the viola to regard it as a soloist’s spot, but Amanda Forsyth’s cello shone out when alone and played along with the orchestral part when not otherwise engaged.

What was utterly clear in this concert was that the players who comprise the ADDA orchestra love both the music and its challenges, and they adore playing together. The sense of camaraderie and cooperation is palpable, and this shines through anything they touch to enhance the audience’s musical experience. This is surely now one of the great orchestras, a true star.

A goodbye to remember forever - Daniel Harding, Fleur Barron, Andrew Staples and the Swedish Radio Orchestra in Wagner, Jolas and Mahler in ADDA, Alicante

 

This was not the last concert in the other season, but it offered a totally valedictory theme. We heard four works, presented as three because the first two were run together seamlessly and, by hearing them together, the theme that was to dominate the evening was established.

The two works that were offered as one were by Richard Wagner. We are familiar with the opinion that the Prelude from Tristan and Isolde changed music forever. Before then, unresolved chords and “confusing” harmonies had been used by composers but usually resolved to something that felt definite. Wagner’s operatic prelude, however, is a succession of unresolved chords and “confusing” harmony. The music marks time, but also stops it, making an audience listen for every detail, of which, in this sparse music, there is a wealth. To run that directly into an orchestral version of the Liebestod marked a transition. Here is Isolde, bereft and alone, is saying goodbye to life by singing a love song. And so the valedictory theme was established.

Betsy Jolas describes how when she spoke to Simon Rattle about Ces Belles Annees, he was conducting Tristan and Isolde at the time. In 2023 and already 95 years old, she thought that this work might be her last orchestral commission, so she wrote a work whose theme was the passing of years by creating variations loosely based on Happy Birthday. The orchestral writing is confused, almost disjointed, but theoretically, not harmonically. Any harmonies are merely passing, just like the passing of time it celebrates. When the soprano enters, this evening Fleur Barron dressed in party frock and bovver boots, she is in party mood and invites the audience to join with her, to come to her birthday party, to celebrate the passing of years. At 95, Betsy Jolas chose to end the work with the orchestra in a tutti of laughter, perhaps a comment on the fact that we take life and time too seriously, perhaps commenting that in the end, nothing matters, despite the conviction and sincerity of the soprano’s words of invitation.

And then, in the second half we heard perhaps the most beautiful performance of Das Lied von der Erde imaginable. This was music-making of such a high-quality, such intensity, such attention to detail that it is hard to describe. The ADDA audience were spellbound by this largely quiet music, which, despite its juxtaposition of drinking songs alongside reflection, is eventually a valediction and an invitation to contemplate eternity.

A note on the performers is essential, especially in this work, which relies for its start on the presence of a Wagnerian tenor, one who has an instrument with the power to sing Seigfried, but with the inherent ability to communicate simply and directly. Performances of Das Lied von der Erde often fall short because of the opening, when the tenor simply cannot bring it off. Not so Andrew Staples, whose voice was not only up to the task, it shone. He managed a perfect balance of power, humour, and lyricism in words that speak a lot of drinking and having a good time, but always with the underpinning idea that the experience will not last.

Andrew Staples, surely in recognition of the fact that the main act in this work is the female voice, chose to sit at the back of the first violins when not singing, rather than take a seat centre-stage. In the alto’s final farewell, he took a seat in the stalls. Perhaps he also wanted to listen to Fleur Barron’s performance, which was nothing less than exceptional. Nominally a mezzo-soprano, she coped perfectly with the soprano-alto range of this part so that nothing interrupted the flow of this beautiful music. It was a performance that was memorable, right down to the last, barely audible, “eternally”.

Last, but certainly not least, Daniel Harding’s direction of the Swedish Radio Orchestra was both masterful and utterly transparent. He clearly has a very special relationship with the music of Gustav Mahler and both the detail that he brought out and the space that he created were utterly exquisite. It was a long goodbye, but a musical experience I would repeat many times, if time were to allow me the chance.

 

Cristina Gómez Godoy and Roberto Forés Veses with ADDA orchestra in Wagner, Strauss and Brahms

There are not many opportunities to hear an oboe concerto in the concert hall. It is surprising that an instrument that has been a mainstay of the sound of a symphony orchestra is so infrequently featured as a solo instrument. The twentieth century repertoire is relatively extensive, and it was one of the most played twentieth century oboe concertos that Cristina Gómez Godoy played with the ADDA orchestra last night.

Richard Strauss’s Oboe Concerto is a late work and, characteristically in the composer’s later style, it is it is a deceptively simple work. In three movements and scored for a moderate orchestra, it presents a neo-classical surface beneath which appear memories of the key changes and orchestral sumptuousness of the composer’s youth. But this is no mere autobiographical retrospective. The three movements are played without a break and, like the Four Last Songs, they make valedictory gestures within a tranquillity which is possibly the composer’s reflection of having just lived through years of war. The music is both a personal statement and, at the same time, a vision of enduring humanity. Richard Strauss was a complex person with a consciously simple public projection. He had to sign documents to support the Nazis and keep his mouth closed. On the other hand... Surely it was in works like the Oboe Concerto that we hear his inner voice, the one that he had by law to suppress.

Cristina Gómez Godoy’s playing of the piece was a complete joy from first note to last. Her total and absolute control, matched with a tremendous feel for phrasing and expression was utterly mesmerizing. Sitting close to the performer, one is reminded of how much effort is needed to play this instrument well. And, it must be recorded, there exist very few breathing spaces for the soloist in this piece’s half hour duration. This is a true musical dialogue between soloist and orchestra, and Richard Strauss’s writing ensures that the soloist is never swamped by the orchestral accompaniment. There is, therefore, nowhere to hide. Cristina Gómez Godoy played the slow movement from one of JS Bach’s concertos as an encore and we thus had demonstrated many of the similarities between Bach’s use of the instrument and what we had just heard. Put simply, this was an utterly memorable performance.

Roberto Forés Veses, guest conductor with the ADDA Orchestra had opened the concert with an orchestral interlude from Wagner’s Ring Cycle. This was the “Rumores del bosque” from Siegfried, when the eponymous hero becomes captivated by nature and birdsong. It was revealing to hear how modern this music sounded, especially in its understated passages where the music was allowed space to register.

In the second half, Roberto Forés Veses directed the orchestra in a performance of Brahms’s Symphony No. 4. Memorable was the tempo and excitement generated in the third movement, which for me at least was wholly original. The evening ended with an encore of Brahms’s Hungarian Dance No. 5, which was both rousing and playful.

A concert that surely made history - Pablo Sainz Villegas in Arturo Marquez's Concierto Mistico y Profano with Josep Vicent and the ADDA orchestra

 

It is possible to run out of superlatives. We can easily pepper any description with the words “best” or “greatest”, but they have been so overused that to see them is often associated with a dismissal of the message as marketing hype. I will not, therefore, describe last night’s ADDA concert is the “best” or the “greatest”. I will simply say that it was utterly memorable, intensely moving and completely joyous, and perhaps may go down in history.

On paper, it looked like a short concert, promising under an hour of music, comprising just two works. In the event, it lasted two hours and presented seven pieces. Such is our varied and rich experience of ADDA concerts under Josep Vicent’s artistic directorship.

The ADDA orchestra opened the concert with a non-programmed piece. Josep Vicent explained that they would offer something to mark the passing of Pope Francis and, in recognition of his work for peace, they would play the Nimrod variation from an Elgar’s Enigma. The music’s tranquillity and understatement made a perfect tribute.

I have been attending concerts for about sixty years and the experience that followed our unscheduled opening must rank as a pinnacle of those decades. In every respect, the playing, the composition, the approach and the delivery, it was all utterly memorable. And perhaps even historically so.

What made it special was the second ever performance of the Concierto Mistico y Profano of Arturo Marquez. By the end of the work, it was clear to everyone that this was a major contribution to the repertoire, a concerto to go alongside those of Rodrigo and Villa-Lobos as potentially one of the most performed guitar concertos.

Pablo Sainz Villegas gave a superb performance of this rhythmically complex work, indeed stressing those rhythms, but also taking every opportunity to ensure that the lyricism showed through. His playing was both inspired and inspiring. It is a work of some complexity, but the audience immediately warmed to its simultaneous accessibility.

As ever, the ADDA orchestra also starred, and the dynamics were so carefully worked out by composer and performers alike that not a note of the solo guitar part was lost. This was surely a performance that made musical history in that, if the concerto does indeed become standard repertoire, then this performance will be seeing as pivotal in establishing the work’s credentials.

No, less than three encores followed. An orchestral version of the well-known Romanza, provided a calm interlude after the rhythmic vitality of the concerto, but then a version of Piazzolla’s Libertango re-established it. Josep Vicent also joined in with a percussion accompaniment when he used his baton on his desk to colour things even more.

Then Pablo Sainz Villegas played a solo piece. It was nothing less than the Gran Jota of Tarrega, complete with snare drum rolls sounded by tangling the guitar’s E and A strings. Quite superb. Even breathtaking.

In the second half, we heard an orchestral tour de force. Mussorgsky’s music with orchestration by Ravel became an ultra-colourful Pictures At An Exhibition. This is work that is well known and is always spectacular.

And orchestral encore brought the concert to a close and appropriately, it was the Danzon 2 of Marquez. The ADDA orchestra plays this piece quite regularly, but in their hands, it never loses either its shine or its excitement. The players’ enthusiasm when the band strikes up is palpable. There were a lot of smiles around during this concert, and not only among the audience, but between the players as well. It was clearly a night to remember for all concerned.

ADDA Alicante hosts RTVE orchestra and chorus in Brahms, Nielsen, Strauss and Borodin

 

Alicante’s ADDA hosted the Orchestra and Chorus of RTVE in a concert entitled “Don Juan and Prince Igor”. The title rather ignored the first half, which featured three works, two choral pieces by Brahms and Nielsen’s Flute Concerto. I will therefore describe the second half first.

Twenty minutes was the listed performance time for Richard Strauss’s tone poem, Don Juan. It is a race through the biography of a character who occupied Daponte and Mozart for a couple of hours and Lord Byron for a lifetime. And in this performance, these 20 minutes, absolutely whizzed by. Richard Strauss’s orchestration in this symphonic poem is so massive that the audience members in the first few rows regularly had to duck to avoid the kitchen sinks.

But what subtlety lies within this apparently broad brush! From the second row, I could see the percussionists behind the first violins and was astounded to hear a triangle played softly rising above an orchestral tutti. Richard Strauss certainly knew how to write for orchestra, and this performance, at speed, was virtuosic. As the good times roll by, we know the character is going to receive his come-uppance, and that duly arrives with the finality of pizzicato marking a truly quiet end to a raucous life.

And then we launched into Borodin’s Polovtsian Dances from Prince Igor. Now this is a real show-stopper. Not only does it present a thoroughly familiar tune in its opening passages and at the end, the Gliding Dance of the Maidens, a tune made famous by its incorporation into Kismet in Hollywood, but its upbeat central section is it itself a pop classic. Someone behind us in the audience sang along with the RTVE chorus with the words of “Stranger in Paradise”, but it was not disturbing, because the volume of sound produced on stage in this work is immense.

We did have an encore. It was another pop classic in the form of the chorus of the Hebrew Slaves from Nabucco. It all makes musical sense, if you can imagine an entire race incarcerated in a prehistorical concentration camp and faced with extermination joining in with a waltz sung in a major key. I suppose faith is powerful.

The first half started with the two with two significant works by Brahms. In Nänie, Op. 82, we are presented with a rather funereal atmosphere that anticipates some of Brahms’s later works, but without the obvious lyricism. In Schicksalslied, Op.54 we have full blown Brahms in mid-career. Brahms, complete with a smoker’s shortness of breath, presents his characteristic short phrase – pause – short phrase – pause (repeat) structure that he so commonly used. My personal theory is that he liked to sing along with his work, but his lungs could no longer sustain a long phrase.

And so to the problematic piece in the program. Make of this what you will – and our soloist, whose name is Mónica Raga, resident of the RTV Orchestra, did just that. The playing of this enigmatic work was utterly breathtaking, nothing less than perfect, even inspired. And this despite conductor Christoph König at one point letting go of his baton and hitting her mid-stream. Not a note was lost. Quite brilliant.

But Nielsen’s Flute Concerto is a late work and the composer, already at work on the Sixth  (and equally problematic) Symphony presents his audience with a piece that vacillates between serious and tender, between cynical and sincere throughout its two movements. One wonders where Carl Nielsen had convinced himself by 1926 that a composer’s life was the pits and his offerings were without worth. In his own words, he wrote, “If I could live my life again, I would chase any thoughts of Art out of my head and be apprenticed to a merchant or pursue some other useful trade the results of which could be visible in the end ...” This concerto, neither modern nor traditional, neither the tonal nor abstract, neither serious or frivolous, presents a challenge for an audience and a soloist. Mónica Raga truly rose to the occasion, and she made sense of this enigmatic work. It is, however, an enigma worth revisiting.