Patrick Messina gives the first performance in Spain of Tan Dun's Clarinet Concerto with ADDA Orchestra under Josep Vicent in Alicante

Last night in ADDA Alicante, we were treated to a program that sandwiched the familiar with an unfamiliar filling. The unfamiliar filling was the Spanish premiere of a Clarinet Concerto by Tan Dun, whilst the familiar on the outside comprised two concert favourites of Antonin Dvorak.

We got off to a rousing start with an energetic performance of Dvorak’s Carnival Overture. This is music that starts and ends with in-your-face celebration that conjures up a festive gathering by a populace eager to participate. The more reflective passages are surely sideshows and personal stories. Written as part of a sequence to illustrate Nature, Life, and Love, the Carnival Overture is celebratory throughout and certainly wakes up an audience.

The other familiar element came after the interval and was a performance of the concert hall favourite, Dvořák’s Symphony No. 9 From The New World. I have written before on the doubt that any of the now familiar themes were inspired by the composer’s stay in the United States, so I will not repeat the arguments here. In fact, I will concentrate on the performance.

Over the years, Josep Vicent, artistic director and conductor of the ADDA Orchestra, has built a performing and interpretive tradition, which is greatly appreciated by the loyal audience. What is more is that the orchestra members themselves seem to enjoy the concerts as much as their audience. The communication on stage between the conductor’s podium, and the orchestra and, indeed, between the orchestra members themselves is palpable. The relationships are clearly excellent, and this affects the way the orchestra performs.

The consequence of this is that no matter what the program, you always know that the musicians on stage will not only perform well, but will be happy with what they with what they are doing. The feeling does contrast quite strongly with the experience of listening to some visiting orchestras, where the concert seems to be just another day at the office. With Josep Vicent and the ADDA Orchestra, every audience member in the auditorium can be confident that a performance is going to be energetic, thoughtful, artistic and played with commitment.

Dvořák’s New World Symphony is so well known that I will not spend time describing the musical content. Let it be said, however, that the ADDA Orchestra made the piece sound fresh and inspired, though I am sure they have played it many times before. Bravi!

The unfamiliar filling of the concert sandwich was Tan Dun’s Clarinet Concerto, Three Lotus in the Zen Garden. The composer wrote the concerto for his friend, Patrick Messina, who was indeed the soloist last night.

The first piece by Tan Dun that I heard was his 1997 Symphony and to my ear he still inhabits a similar musical oeuvre. What Tan Dun tries to do is incorporate traditional Chinese forms and harmony with the language of western music. The Clarinet Concerto illustrated this in its use of percussion, pentatonic scales, rhythm and vocalization for the orchestra all within a form of a twenty-minute concerto for a soloist and orchestra.

But there was more to the concerto than this. Patrick Messina played almost continuously throughout the concerto and employed several modern techniques, like double stopping, breathing through the instrument and almost screeching harmonics.

The first part is evocative of the sounds of nature when one is sitting in a garden. But this is very much Zen garden, where the soft edges are hardened by stone. Patrick Messina virtuosity is clear, but in Tan Dun’s piece this was rarely the kind of virtuosity that a concerto normally displays. In other words, this was about control, phrasing, texture, and sonority rather than a torrent of notes. I felt, overall, that the concerto came close to a solo piece with orchestral accompaniment rather than a dialogue between soloist and orchestra. But perhaps I am showing my very Eurocentric heritage by writing that. But Tan Dun’s work is clearly from a different cultural heritage, and I feel it will take more hearings before the true nature of the music reveals itself. Patrick Messina’s more conventional virtuosity was on show in the klezmer like encore.

 

Programa de mano de 31 oct 2026 - Denia International Piano Festival - Fabrizio Meloni y Antonello D'Onofrio

 

 

Carmen in Valencia - Charles Castronovo and Vasilisa Berzhanskaya lead a cast in search of a production

 

The current production of Bizet’s Carmen in Valencia Les Arts seems to be in constant danger of falling between two chairs. “Stools”, you say, but “chairs” is apposite because chairs figure large in this particular staging.

The promotional photograph that ostensibly summarizes the production shows Carmen in a traditional flamenco dress confronting Escamillo, who is arraigned in his toreador outfit. These might be stereotypes, but they are conventional in a staging of Carmen. The still is from act three. Contrast that image with what the audience sees at the start, which is an unadorned black stage on which there is a square raised platform, covering most of the area, with the only evidence of props being a haphazard pile of chairs at the back. Symbolically, the raised platform is the square outside Carmen’s cigarette factory in Seville. The chairs are regularly moved to create different spaces.

Personally, I prefer directors to experiment when staging opera, as long as historical accuracy is preserved. It would be stupid to set Andrea Chenier in anything but the French revolution, for instance. But in the case of Carmen where the plot revolves around a coquettish woman who cannot make up her mind and an army corporal who lacks judgment and is easily lead is not specific to any particular epoch. Carmen, therefore, can be staged at any time, but place is important because of the Spanish flavour of the music.

But I am being over conventional. What if the Carmen is not coquettish, nor a flirt (whatever that is…) and plays the role as if she is in control the whole time? It seems that this was the kind of Carmen that we encountered in acts one and two in this production. She thus is a more modern woman, who still does not know what she wants. But would that modern woman dress up in traditional garb for a fiesta? Would that modern woman be so shocked by a prophecy arising from a card deal?

What worked in acts one and two was the drabness of the set. These working-class people are portrayed living their drab lives and therefore the excitement of a fight at work or an affair with an army corporal just might brighten things up. Perhaps because of the drabness of day-to-day existence everyone goes over the top when the chance to show off comes around at the fiesta. The presence of Escamillo, however, belies that working class setting, because he would have been a star, unless he was not very successful, in which case he would not have lasted very long and would not have developed a reputation.

In act two, the raised platform is transformed into a bar where we see the lowlife of an inner city. This is where Escamillo delivers his toreador song. The stage is still largely black, and the chairs are moved again to create places for the eager punters to sit. In act three, the chairs are centre stage again for a ballet sequence, which in this Carmen is a flamenco dance done by women. This is surely a reference to the original staging of the opera at the Opera Comique where a dance routine was de rigueur.

Then in act three, we have the fiesta and everyone gets dolled up. Suddenly, we have massive colour provided by firework bursts of confetti over the assembled townsfolk. Carmen up until now has worn T-shirt and trousers, and then a jacket over tights and a basque, suddenly dons a flowery full-length dress and wears her hair, until now lank, coiffured. It appears that Ted Huffman, who directed, suddenly got cold feet, and became worried that a “traditional” Carmen audience would want colour and costume. Suddenly, also, Carmen, who has been aloof and assertive to the level of cynicism until now, is vulnerable. Don José carries out his deadly act via strangulation with his belt, rather than with a “traditional” knife.

Overall, this production tried to be something different but did not carry things through. Carmen, as a character, suffered and throughout we did not see the presence that we expect from the role. Hence my assertion that the production fell between two chairs, neither “contemporary” nor “traditional”.

The evening, however, was perfectly enjoyable, despite the confusion over the production. Charles Castronovo as Don José was utterly superb. Vasilisa Berzhanskaya has sung Carmen before, but perhaps not as low-key as this time. Ruth Iniesta as Micaela received special applause for her two interventions. Davide Luciano as Escamillo was impressive. These performances were sound, that of Charles Castronovo was outstanding, but the lack of credibility of the overall concept rendered the individual performances just that – individual.

 

Mathis Cathignol offers a surprise at the Denia International Piano Festival

Despite my attending literally thousands of concerts in the past, each new offering still has the potential to surprise, to go where music has never taken me. The experience does not often do so, despite the fact that it rarely disappoints. Also, approaching a concert that I am responsible for makes me nervous and makes me also less able to relax to absorb whatever is on offer. After organising well over five hundred concerts, it remains the case that each new one is a challenge and that challenge can militate against personal enjoyment. Without the support of skilled people, musicians and technicians alike, the presentation of a concert would be impossible, and I have to record the fact that in Denia last night we had the best of both professions.

A program, however, can create expectations, but in the case of the latest Denia International Piano Festival concert, Mathis Cathignol, a young pianist from France, offered Granados, Fauré and Chopin. One the face of things, this was not going to surprise, but by the end of the concert, Mathis Cathignol had played so elegantly and so poetically that the surprise lasted from the first note to the last.

Mathis Cathignol is a 26 year-old French pianist. Before the concert, he asked whether it was normal or acceptable to have music open on the stage. My reply, as ever, was that he had to decide. I have learned over the years to go with a musician’s flow and not try to impose anything. In the event, he played the Granados and the Fauré from scores, but the Chopin from memory. Eventually, all that matters is the musical communication and more than a hundred people in the audience were left in no doubt about the quality of that.

Mathis Cathignol started his concert with three pieces by Granados. A Frenchman playing Spanish music to an audience in Spain is taking a risk. But Mathis Cathignol’s playing left no one unconvinced of his ability to communicate via this language. The playing, and with it the expression was exquisite. The phrases, even the specifically Spanish in a Spanish idiom, were played beautifully. What’s more, the music made perfect sense. Too often in Granados and other Spanish composers, a pianist can emphasize the stereotype and thereby lose contact with the overall effect. Mathis Cathignol did not fall into this trap and indeed his shaping of Quejas, o la Maja y el Ruiseñor was exceptional. It is a piece that I personally have heard many times, but Mathis Cathignol’s interpretation completely renewed the experience.

I do go to a lot of concerts, and I cannot remember any recent program that included three substantial pieces by Fauré for piano solo. On the face of it, this programming was conventional, but on reflection, I admit that it was something special. For me, Fauré is a quintessentially impressionist composer, and the three nocturnes completely fit the bill. Mathis Cathignol was poetic and expressive, managing to convey subtlety of tone, harmony and shape that sounded truly faithful to the composers intention.

The Chopin that followed was more of a concert piece. But in the hands of Mathis Cathignol, it became more than a series of show off variations and became a rounded, playful examination of what variation form could deliver.

In the end, the young French pianist played Liszt’s Chapelle de Guillaume Tell from the first year of pilgrimage, Années de Pèlerinage I. As an encore, it was a substantial piece and its reception in the hall suggested that the audience wanted even more.

Mathis Cathignol is already an accomplished pianist, whose musical communication is sound. He plays with a lightness of touch which is astounding but can also deliver pace and volume apparently at the same time. He also has the element of surprise which promises greatness.

Spanish National Orchestra under Pablo González plays Espla and Mahler in ADDA Alicante

 

In Alicante last night, the Spanish National Orchestra made its debut in the ADDA auditorium. They chose to play a piece by an Alicante composer to start their program, El Sueño de Eros, The Dream of Eros by Óscar Esplá. In Alicante city, there is a main thoroughfare named after the composer, and indeed one of its prestigious conservatories also bears his name. It is a name, however, that few concert-goers away from the Costa Blanca will recognise. 

During a long career, Óscar Esplá wrote over one hundred works. He lived from 1886 to 1976 and studied in Paris in the early years of the twentieth century, and it shows. His music of the time shows a strong French influence, especially that of Debussy. But El Sueño de Eros predates the time he spent in Paris and indeed the composer was only a young man when he wrote the work in 1910. It was in fact while Óscar Esplá was studying first engineering and later philosophy in Barcelona that he received a handwritten text of a lyrical poem from the Alicante writer Gabriel Miró and the work lay unperformed for two years. It is thus revealing how French influences are the fore. The composer had studied with his father and two Spanish teachers, and he must have developed a love for the music of Debussy from an early age.

As its title suggests, the music is dreamlike, not actually finding a tonal identity, eschewing recognisably “Spanish” themes, though at one point, there is a suggestion of a local song in the strings. The work is based on Gabriel Miró’s poem in which Eros dreams of love, is caressed by the moon. wakes up startled, fires his arrows, and the moon, wounded, retreats. It is about unrequited love, and the uncertainty that can induce. El Sueño de Eros was the only collaboration between the writer and the composer, who continued to share respect for one another.

Here we are we are in the world Debussy Pelléas et Mélisande. Nothing is real, even suggestions are only part-heard. There is some influence of Richard Strauss here, particularly in the use of divided strings. Óscar Esplá often used juxtaposition of two quite mundane themes to heighten musical drama, but in this piece, it is the atmospheric orchestration that impressed. It certainly is an interesting piece that should be played more often, as should Óscar Esplá’s other compositions.

In the second half of the concert, the Spanish National Orchestra under Pablo González played Mahler’s Fifth Symphony. Personally, I found the attention to detail by Pablo González interesting, but it rather got in the way of the music flow. I also found some of the tempi quite strange. The first movement, for instance, is a funeral march, but the tempo chosen stressed the funeral, not the march. These things are always a matter of taste. There is no right and wrong, only difference and originality.

The orchestra’s playing was suitably dynamic on virtuosic, but I for one found that the pause for tuning after the third movement reduced the impact of the adagietto, which is such a change from the tutti of the opening movements. As ever, Gustav Mahler’s concept was exhilarating and moving.

Programa de mano de 8 oct 2026 - Denia International Piano Festival - Mathis Cathignol

 

New season of ADDA concerts opens with The Ring Without Words

 

The new season of ADDA concerts, titled Naturaleza, vida y amor, began last night with an unusual program. Single work programs are often symphonies or oratorios, or theatre pieces scores played primarily as musical experience. But The Ring Without Words is an arrangement, which is unusual.

The work is not a reconstruction. Neither is it an invented fantasy. Commissioned by Telarc from Lorin Maazel, The Ring Without Words is pure Wagner, his own music as selected by the conductor who must have led performances of the Ring several times. He made no revisions, added no notes and stuck to the running order of the story. What Lorin Maazel did might be characterized as a musician’s technical skill, but this would miss a point. What Maazel accomplished with this work is almost incredibly creative.

Lorin Maazel effectively condensed fifteen hours or so of music drama into a seventy-minute orchestral suite which kept Wagner’s music and story in the correct order. What he created was an orchestral showpiece of the most wonderful kind. It is, of course, full of familiar music, some of which is as well-known as any pop song, even more than a century and a half after it was written.

But what is also amazing about the work is that it comes together to tell the story. Almost absent from Lorin Maazel’s construction is Valhalla, the Giants, the fire music at the end of Die Walkűre and importantly Siegried’s forging of Nothung. Fafner is there as a dragon in just a few chords before he is similarly dispatched. But what remains is coherent and convincing.

The Ring Without Words preserves Wagner’s orchestration, which means that the sound of a hundred musicians on stage is filled out with Wagner tubas, whose penetrating tones underpin an already vast score. What is so amazing to an audience member listening to this music is the realization of how utterly original it was in its style. Almost incredibly, we are talking about the middle of the nineteenth century. All right, there was Berlioz and there was Meyerbeer and there was Liszt. But Wagner surpassed all of these in the way that he integrated his choice of material into the orchestral texture to create a musical language that was truly communicative. Thus the experience of The Ring Without Words is not primarily loud or brash. There is a genuine and successful attempt to stick to the story, so we have Wotan telling Brünnhilde why he has to surround her in fire – this will hurt me more than it hurts you - but then there is only a hint of his call to Loge to set the fire.

Lorin Maazzel was not the only person to create a purely orchestral score from the Ring. The Ring – An Orchestral Adventure by Henk de Vlieger is another attempt and also lasts about seventy minutes in concert. But whoever the arranger, it is Richard Wagner that survives via his utterly original music.

Last but not least, I have to mention the impeccable playing we heard from the ADDA orchestra. The quality of their playing means that the concert series will be a success.