An evening of firsts - Martin García García and Josep Vicent plus ADDA orchestra in Cano, Chopin and Tchaikovsky

In their first concert of a new season, the ADDA Orchestra under the direction of Josep Vicent began with a first performance. Composer Ximo Cano is from nearby La Nucia and his piece Ithaca Overture opened the concert. Ximo Cano’s piece embraces minimalism, but also lyricism and spectacular use of orchestral sound. Basically an overture in the Italian style of fast-slow-fast, it begins with a complex rhythmic figure in the strings which gradually disintegrates into a climax before the central slow section imposes calm on the process. There is extensive use here of the sonorous vibraphone, with the piccolo sustaining some of the higher notes’ overtones. Momentum then reasserts itself, and the piece burns bright until its end. Ximo Cano’s style could be likened to John Adams, but here there is a complexity in this work that comes across paradoxically as simplicity. This world premiere of Ximo Cano’s Ithaca Overture thus presented a perfect opening for a new season, being positive, affirmatory and celebratory.

On seeing the rest of the program, Chopin’s Second Piano Concerto, and Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 4, this particular concert goer felt that it might seem like a repetition of works heard hundreds of times before. How wrong can you be? What we heard was both fresh and enlightening. No matter how many times you have heard a piece of music, in performance it always has the potential to surprise anew, and both these works did just that, and to an extent that this listener, with literally thousands of concerts behind him, heard both pieces as if for the first time, so surprising were their effects.

Soloist in the Chopin concerto was Martin García García, a young man still in his 20s from Gijon. To say that his touch was delightful would be to understate the pure artistry he brought to this work. His playing was not only faultless, it reached a level of communication with the audience that one rarely witnesses. Especially in the slow movement, he engendered such a degree of concentration amongst the audience that even the most pianissimo of touches were heard, absorbed within a story that unfolded, told by fingers pressing on keys. This performance rendered a familiar work newly fresh, newly moving and completely satisfying musically. Memorable? Life-changing.

An encore of Tchaikovsky’s October followed. This is Tchaikovsky using understatement, in reflective mode as mists appear and trees colour, and then shed. For the first time I noticed in this piece the main theme of Scriabin’s Prelude And Nocturne For The Left Hand. Another first. I do hope that this first time to hear the playing of Martin García García will not be my last.

And then to Tchaikovsky’s Fourth Symphony. It was for me personally to be the second time in performance in five months. Nothing from the past, however, could have prepared me for the surprise I felt during every moment of this performance by the ADDA Orchestra. Artistic director, Josep Vicent, had the orchestra sculpt literally every phrase. Nuances of feeling, musical details, and indeed overall structures within the work were revealed as if I had never heard the work before, so fresh was the approach, so energised and at the same time subtle was the playing.

Examples could fill a book, but particularly memorable was the way in which the main theme of the slow movement was phrased. It is far too easy, it seems, for an orchestra to rely on the overall beauty of the theme rather than pin down the transitional emotions that make it up. This performance did exactly that. The overall theme still worked fine, but it worked because its individual elements created an emotional journey that was complex and sophisticated, and made perfect sense.

The scherzo, also, provided its surprises. It again is easy to regard the whole movement as a piece of orchestration first and a piece of music second. We all expect to hear the episodic contrast between pizzicato strings, decorating woodwind, and firm brass. What we do not regularly hear in this work of the details that remind us of Slavonic dances, and variations of dynamics in the pizzicato of the strings that add shape and texture. I may have heard hundreds of performances of this work, but this was completely new, as if hearing it for the first time.

As an encore, Josep Vicent offered his audience Guridi’s Amorosa, a simple plea for people everywhere to share love for one another. The overall effect of this concert first was to underline yet again the fact that this ADDA Orchestra, created by the direction of Josep Vicent, is now among the first rank of world ensembles. Bravi!

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.

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.

La Leyenda del Príncipe y el Lago Helado: Prokofiev's Alexander Nevsky in ADDA, Alicante with Orfeón Donostiarra and Silvia Tro, plus Beethoven!

I last heard Prokofiev’s Alexander Nevsky in April 1985. It was a performance of the complete film score alongside the film itself, recently reconstructed, in London’s Royal Festival Hall. The orchestra was the London Philharmonic and the conductor was Mstislav Rostropóvich. I could remember the venue and the music, but not the performers or the date. Those were filled in by artificial intelligence. That would also be the last time I saw the film.

Last night’s performance by the ADDA orchestra under Josep Vicent featured the cantata that Prokofiev constructed out of his incidental music to Eisenstein’s film This choral work has since become a concert hall regular, perhaps the major cantata of all twentieth century music. Performances are not offered very often, however, because it is a work that needs a lot of resources, large numbers of human beings and, if it is to be done well, lots of rehearsal time.

This performance, subtitled “La Leyenda del  Príncipe y el Lago Helado”, of the purely musical work was accompanied by a brief passages from the film, projected above the heads of the Orfeón Donostiarra chorus. There was enough visual material to provide context, but no more. In any case, Prokofiev’s cantata score does not follow the film’s action sequentially, only thematically. Rest assured that this is a massive work and, for many concert goers, it is probably a one-in-a-lifetime experience. Not only does it demand a large orchestra and a full chorus, it also has a soloist, mezzo-soprano Silvia Tro this evening, to sing an orchestral song towards the end. Silvia Tro’s performance of this patriotic text was moving, though its propaganda message was better left untranslated.

From the start, indeed, we can hear that this is a Prokofiev score because of the filled out and emphasised bass. The orchestration is simply spectacular and the ADDA orchestra delivered perfectly all the unexpected and frankly surprising textures. Even the opening chords, delivered softly offer the listeners something of a surprise.

Josep Vicent had placed the percussion not at the back, because Orfeón Donostiarra were there. Hence the players of extensive percussion section were immediately behind the violins. This brought all the percussive colour to the fore, and the effect was spectacular. At the start of the battle on the ice scene, it seemed as if the assembled army on stage had come alive as a single insect-like force, scratching its way towards the audience. Simply spectacular.

Truly spectacular had been the first half of the concert. Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony is clearly a favourite of Josep Vicent and the ADDA orchestra. I have heard them perform it at least three times and, if it were on offer again today, I would be first in line for a ticket. I will limit my description of the piece, because it has featured regularly in ADDA concerts.

This was playing of the very highest quality. Not only was it accurate and controlled, but it also came across a slightly reckless, even improvised. But of course, it was not, but this performance had the quality of experiment at breakneck speed. The performance of Alexander Nevsky was both welcome and spectacular. But it was Ludwig van Beethoven who stole this music show.

 

A concert of surprises - Beethoven Piano Concert No4 and Symphony No4 featuring Joachim Gustavsson and Antonii Baryshvskyi

What could possibly be surprising about a concert whose program listed two works by Beethoven, both numbered four, one a piano concerto and the other symphony? Well, the answer is just about everything. To start with, Beethoven’s Symphony No. 4 is certainly not the most played of his symphonic works. I am sure I have heard it in the concert hall before, but I am also sure it was more than four decades ago. The fourth piano concerto, on the other hand, is a regular inclusion on concert programmes, and I have heard it several times in the last decade and countless times via recordings. But it has never sounded quite like this.

The first surprise, though it was announced in advance, was the identity of the soloist. Antonii Baryshvskyi played the concerto instead of Judith Jauregui, who stepped down on medical advice. In addition, the evening’s conductor was Joachim Gustafsson, a guest of the ADDA Simfonica, was making, I believe, his first appearance with the orchestra.

The fourth piano concerto of Beethoven is a masterpiece. It has that amazing concept of a slow movement where the quiet piano competes with angry strings and wins them over by gentle persuasion. It is perhaps one of the most original pieces of music ever written. In the hands of Antonii Baryshvskyi, the movement attained perfection.

But so did the first and third movements. Antonii Baryshvskyi’s style throughout was sensitive and accommodating of an orchestral sound that refused to dominate. This was real human dialogue between soloist and orchestra. In fact, the orchestral textures throughout - except, of course, for the strings in the second movement - were light and played softer and with less attack than would be the norm. The overall effect was to render the whole work profoundly human and humble. Then, given the nature of the argument of its second movement, this approach rendered the experience utterly moving from the first note to the last. Surely everyone present was deeply affected by this perfect music making.

Antonii Baryshvskyi chose to play different credenzas from any that I have previously heard. This concerto has several cadenzas written by various composers and pianists. I did not recognize the ones that the pianist chose, and conclude, therefore, that they were his own. It was both surprising and startling to have contemporary-sounding cadenzas appearing in such familiar music, but nothing was out of place. Everything made perfect musical sense. Joachim Gustavson’s muted approach to the music allowed the experience to develop and the space thus created was emotionally very special. Antonii Baryshvskyi then played two encores. The first was Chopin’s Revolutionary Study – how apt, given what we had just heard! - and the second, again I speculate, was probably his own work. The ADDA audience gave him the warmest possible applause in recognition of something profoundly special.

So after the familiar cast anew in the first half, the second half embarked upon the less familiar fourth symphony. The fourth symphony’s opening could pass for Mahler and the rest is hardly less revolutionary for the first decade of the nineteenth century.

Beethoven wrote the work after the Eroica and before the anger of the fifth. It is a work that could be superficially classed as a tranquil interlude between two great statements. But anyone who listens to this music will conclude that it is wholly original and indeed visionary. There were times when we might have been listening to Mendelssohn, forty years early!

Again, Joachim Gustavsson’s reading of the music was perfect. The music seemed actually to be human, so much did it seem to breathe. Anyone unfamiliar with this work, and there will be many, even amongst regular concertgoers, should listen intently to its argument because it makes perfect sense. The rhythmic variations Beethoven used in the scherzo are reminiscent even of the seventh symphony. This was a performance that will live in the memory forever.

The evening’s third encore was something completely different, the Intermezzo from Mascagni’s Cavalleria Rusticana. Like everything else on this wonderful evening this was a surprise.

Beethoven, Bruch and Mendelssohn in ADDA Alicante with Max Bragado-Darman - a concert of surprise and excellence

 

This was a program that seemed so middle-of-the-road that attendance might mean getting hit from both directions, from both predictability and familiarity. A programme comprising Beethoven, Bruch and Mendelssohn sounds both predictable and familiar and there are certainly some concert goers who are attracted by these promises. But here the familiarity disappears with closer inspection.

OK, the Beethoven Egmont Overture is frequently played. It is, however, so full of wonderful energy that it can be heard of fresh every time. The unpredictability here started with the opening chords. I have not heard this piece in concert for some time and the textures of the opening phrases seemed utterly new to me. I had never before noticed such harmonies. And these were written in 1810! From the very first bars, thanks to a conductor whose clearly intimate knowledge of the repertoire allows him to draw a listener’s attention to detail without losing overall shape, this concert was going to be familiar perhaps, but certainly not predictable. The final passages of the overture were even repeated at the end of the evening as an encore, and, even second time through, the work’s conclusion was still full of energy and invention.

A Bruch concerto followed. But, as the evening’s program notes pointed out, this was neither a popular violin concerto nor a Scottish fantasy. It was in fact, the double concerto, opus 88, originally written for clarinet and viola, but reshaped by the composer himself for violin and viola. This is mid-Romantic music written as late as 1911. It is backward looking in its apparent willingness to revisit well-trodden paths, but then it is also modern in the way that the soloists share material with the orchestra in the form of a dialogue, if a dialogue can have three contributors, without the need to place the soloists on a showing- off pedestal. The result, especially in the hands of Max Bragado-Darman and the ADDA orchestra and the evening’s soloists, Sarah Ferrández on viola and Maria Florea on violin, was an intimate experience, an examination of melody and texture. The soloists played a little Bach counterpoint as an encore.

Then, in part two, we came to the main course, which was Mendelssohn’s last symphony, number five, The Reformation. Familiar it might be, but I checked, and I have not heard it in the concert hall for over fifty years. Familiar it also may be because of other composers having mined it. Phrases in the violins during the first movement are pure Parsifal from the end of Wagner’s creative life. The theme of the slow movement reappears as a waltz in Shostakovich’s Jazz Suite a hundred years later. And the sonorities of the chorales in the finale might even be reminiscent of Copland!

But, to make musical sense, a symphony needs to be performed with sufficient vision for the intellectual progression to make sense, or, if that be the point, to emphasize its chance and randomness. The latter qualities are not part of Mendelssohn’s oeuvre and the ADDA Orchestra had a director in Max Bragado-Darman whose overview of the music was so perfect that it became transparent. Only the composer’s inspiration shone through, but this was surely this evening’s conductor’s mission and, as such, it was both surprising and memorable. This was a performance by all of the very highest quality, never predictable, and whose familiarity led to respect.

Esther Yoo, Lahav Shani and the Munich Philharmonic in Mendelssohn and Bruckner in ADDA Alicante

What new observations might one have of an event featuring Mendelsohn’s Violin Concerto in E minor and Bruckner’s Symphony No9? These are both works that I have heard many times over the years and several times each in the concert hall. Recordings of them exist in myriad interpretations - especially the Mendelssohn, which, along with concertos by Beethoven, Brahms, Bruch and Tchaikovsky, is amongst the most played violin concertos in the concert hall. Audiences, however, are renowned for liking what they know, so, despite the regularity of its performance, this particular concerto features in most concert seasons of most orchestras.

What is new about every presentation of a work, no matter how often it is played, is the performance. And on this occasion, the soloist was Esther Yoo and the orchestra was the Munich Philharmonic, under their soon-to-be resident conductor Lahav Shani. Esther Yoo’s playing with superb, committed, expressive, and always engaging with the music, never merely playing the notes. Unusually, Lahav Shani chose to conduct without a score. Often, even the most accomplished and experienced conductor uses a score when directing a concerto, perhaps to underline that if anything goes wrong, it is the responsibility of the soloist. But on this occasion, Lahav Shani showed he knew the music so completely that the presence of the score would have been simply redundant.

This was indeed a spirited, and at times a thoughtful performance of a work that always has the potential to become a cliché. The performers ensured, on the other hand, that this utterly familiar work became an original, fresh statement. Esther Yoo’s performance was warmly received by the ADDA audience, and she offered an unaccompanied sarabande by JS Bach as an encore.

And what more is to be said about Bruckner’s Ninth Symphony? Unfinished it might be, stopping at the end of a slow movement placed third, though it still lasts more than an hour. Personally, I find that I can always admire Bruckner’s music from afar, but I find repeatedly that it never invites me inside its world. The composer, apparently, was writing cathedrals in sound, giant blocks of stone and glass piled high. And, as if we were looking up at a ribbed and vaulted Gothic roof, we know that it is heavy, and we know that it is solid, but in detail, it is often light and often even soaring.

Again, Lahav Shani chose to conduct without a score, but his attention to detail throughout was precise and expressive. The Munich Philharmonic definitely makes a sound commensurate with the demands of this work, and on many occasions the tutti actually felt physically massive. But this orchestra is also completely subtle in its playing, and the textures provided by the composer’s orchestration were always to the fore.

In Alicante, we are used to an orchestra that is totally committed to the musical experience, and it is therefore the highest praise possible for this audience member to say that the Munich Philharmonic was at least as good as our regular experience. It goes beyond praise to know that many of those present thought that this orchestra surpassed our norm. Now that is something new.

Historias de la Guerra - Josep Vicent, Yol Eum Son and ADDA Simfonica play Gershwin's Piano Concerto and Shostakovich Eight

This was a concert of two very unequal halves, at least in length, let alone style. The two parts were equal when it came to their standard of performance, however. A program that pits Gershwin against Shostakovich, especially in the latter’s most bleak form, is always going to present a contrast, and a both delightful and thoughtful contrast it proved to be.

Now I admit that I am biased. I first heard Shostakovich’s Eighth Symphony in London under Kiril Kondrashin in the early 1970s and the work has stayed firmly in my listening habits ever since. It is not, however, a work to which I listen regularly, maybe once a month at most, because it remains a harrowing experience, no matter how familiar one becomes with its argument.

Shostakovich’s three war symphonies deal with conflict in number seven, victory, albeit hollow, in number nine and raw suffering in number eight. Such subject matter makes number seven, paradoxically, the most accessible of the three with its self-delusion of an apparently triumphal ending. Number nine is so hollowly cynical that it becomes a talking point rather than a musical experience. Number eight, on the other hand, is visceral in its content and thus disturbing in concert. But, from time to time, it is good to be disturbed, to be reminded of the consequence of certain kinds of human behaviour. The fact that it is human behaviour is obvious, by the way, since other life forms do not make bombs.

The concert’s first half offered contrast with the anticipated suffering that was to follow. It was a performance of Gershwin’s Piano Concerto by Yol Eum Son. This is music of sheen and gloss. As piano concertos go, this one is dressed up for a night out and is packed with references to the popular culture of the time, the roaring twenties, the jazz age. But there is enough in the solo part to link it with works in the same genre by Bartók, Prokofiev, or even Rachmaninov in its simultaneously percussive and lyrical style. There are times, unfortunately, where the soloist becomes overwhelmed by Gershwin’s rather heavy orchestration, but that is clearly how Gershwin wanted things. Despite sometimes being eclipsed, Yol Eum Son played with such perfection that her performance was at times breathtaking, both technically brilliant, and musically considered. The experience was further refined by Josep Vicent’s direction of the ADDA orchestra. The rehearsal time had clearly been well used, with the orchestra entering the idiom of Gershwin’s work as well as playing the notes. With an orchestra of the standard of Alicante’s ADDA, however, this might be possible without rehearsal!

Overall, the Gershwin Piano Concerto shows off everything that is good about the composer’s music - directness, melody, rhythm and good-time sheen - alongside everything that is less than wonderful, being the broad brush of the composer’s orchestration and the frequent dominance of effect over content. But this program was perfection as far as this work was concerned. Yol Eum Son finished with the piano arrangement of Gershwin’s Summertime by Earl Wild.

And so to the Shostakovich, which was written barely twenty years after the Gershwin, two decades that had seen Gershwin’s celebrating world view become depression, and then war. If the first part of this concert approached perfection, then the second part definitely achieved it.

Josep Vicent clearly programmed this work to coincide with the eightieth anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz, a point he made while addressing the audience at the end. But also this work clearly occupies a special place in his musical thoughts. He chose a very slow tempo in the opening movement and thoroughly respected the composer’s dynamics amongst the strings. It is often overlooked that the first violins only enter when the marking is pianissimo. This allowed him to stress the changes in dynamics and rhythm that followed to dramatic effect. And in this symphony, Shostakovich uses his often-explored technique of a long moderato with a central allegro climax, and then a denouement, usually featuring a solo instrument. In this case, it is the cor anglais accompanied by a sustained tremolo that often causes string players to tire. Here, this perfect was – yes – perfect played, paced and interpreted.

Personally, I find that the work’s core, however, is the fourth movement, the slow, highly internalized examination of grief and loss. This is music that invites you into its world. As an audience member, you have to become part of the performance because this music forces you to confront the emotional cracks that Gershwin, for instance, would simply paint over. It is also why this Symphony, to my ear, works only when heard in concert since this participatory element, this communication between performers and listeners is less intense in a recording.

At the end of the Eighth Symphony, Shostakovich allows the music to settle into its own sleep. Everything dies away, but we are left very much alive with the memories that it provoked. The audience’s silence at the end of the work was indeed part of its effect and surely part of its performance. Well done the ADDA audience! A performance of this work will last in the memory forever, if the work is played well and with commitment. Needless to say that this performance by Josep Vicent and the ADDA Orchestra satisfied in every aspect.

Shostakovich’s Eighth surely does not need an encore. But if it is to have one, Josep Vicent chose a perfect ending in Ravel’s Pavane for a Dead Princess. This works still concentrates on loss, but the Ravel offers a little sweetness to round off a savoury meal. And Ravel’s subtle orchestral touches really do enhance the musical experience, reminding us of the fact that Gershwin once asked for classes from Ravel to improve his technique.

 

Cappella Andrea Barca and Sir András Schiff play Bach and Mozart in Alicante

 

CAPPELLA ANDREA BARCA

SIR ANDRÁS SCHIFF, DIRECTOR Y PIANO

Johann Sebastian Bach, Concierto de Brandemburgo nº5 en Re Mayor (BWV 1050)

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Concierto para piano núm. 25 en Do mayor, K.503

Johann Sebastian Bach, Triple concierto para flauta, violín, clave y cuerda en La menor (BWV 1044)

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Concierto para piano núm. 24 en Do menor, K.491

Sir András Schiff is renowned worldwide for his interpretation of the music of Mozart and Bach. I admit at the start that I respect the music of both composers and even recognize the gargantuan achievements of both. But rarely do I feel anything other than respect when I hear performances of their work. Sometimes, performances rise above my prejudice, and I am always delighted by these insights into the musical personalities of Bach and Mozart that a musician can reveal. It’s not that I actively dislike this music, it’s just that it rarely surprises me. So it was with preconceived expectations that I approached last night’s ADDA Alicante concert.

The program presented by András Schiff and Cappella Andrea Barca, the orchestra the soloist himself constructed to play alongside him, included two works from each composer. All four works were called concertos, but the Bach versions each featured three soloists. The works in question were the Brandenburg Concerto No5 and the Triple Concerto, BWV1044.

Besides having a significant part for a keyboard soloist, these two works also feature solo violin and solo flute. Indeed, the central slow movement of each work features only the three soloists, so here both works become chamber music.  Cappella Andrea Barca’s leader Erich Höbarth was the violin soloist in both works. The orchestra’s two flautists Wolfgang Breinschmid and Wally Hase took turns to solo in the Brandenburg and the Triple respectively.

It is rare for me to criticize anything, but this will be one occasion when I do so. The flautists were both wonderful. Their playing was faultless and was delivered with obvious enthusiasm and commitment. Erich Höbarth, I am sure, is an accomplished violinist, but in the ADDA Hall last night, it was difficult to hear his part. This may be quite harsh, since the violin soloist is often playing along with the first violin part, but even on those occasions when he was playing alongside only the other two soloists, such as in the two slow movements of both concertos, his contribution remained barely audible. Now a flute can be an assertive voice, but neither flautist was playing in such a way as to deliberately drown out a colleague, let alone the leader of their own orchestra!

The two Mozart works were piano Concerto No24 and No25. The first one is a rather gentle affair to my ear, presenting a simple, perhaps over-simplified theme in a very simple way. Number 25 has more substance and is longer than its predecessor. András Schiff both directed and played the solo part with great ease. A grand piano is a perfect way of communicating a Mozart concerto, but many keyboard players would choose a smaller voice for the Bach works. In the hands of András Schiff, however, a lightness of touch and an obvious sympathy with the performers meant that the keyboard never dominated. One really felt that this orchestra loves playing with András Schiff and that everyone loves this music. But there again, there were times when there was more than a hint of “we have been here before”.

The audience demanded an encore and András Schiff delivered a Bach fugue. Everyone went home happy.

 

 

Orfeón Donostiarra, ADDA, Josep Vicent serve two staples of twentieth century music in Alicante - Orff's Carmina Burana and Ravel's Daphnis and Chloe

 

How does one review a work in which one section is so well-known that it is perhaps better known as an aftershave advert on television than is a piece of music? How might one describe again an experience that has already been played through on multiple occasions? Here is the problem for this reviewer of last night’s concert in Aliante, in which the ADDA orchestra under Josep Vicent alongside Orfeón Donostiarra presented two utterly familiar masterpieces of twentieth century music. Let’s start with the aftershave

Given the opening paragraph, “old spice” is perhaps a good label from which to start. Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana is perhaps an example of old spice. Since it’s rapturous reception in Nazi Germany in 1937, it has continued to spice up concert programs in more ways than one. The composer chose to set these medieval poems, not only because they were interesting in themselves, but also because they were rather iconoclastic. Although written by clerics and monks several hundred years ago, they are at least tongue-in-cheek, anti-clerical, and anti-church. They are also bawdy and celebrate sex and drinking. Rabelaisian might be a relevant word.

But they do their iconoclastic work in the conventional format of a cantata with soloists, though only three of these, not four. One of them, usually sung by a tenor, has the utterly thankless task of playing a roasting swan with a skewer inserted in such a way that it changes the voice to falsetto. Though food seems to be the preoccupation, one is reminded of the medieval church’s propensity for making bonfires. The part was convincing sung by Rafael Quirant, who is a countertenor, who inspired genuine pathos amid the implied mirth.

Milan Perišić’s baritone was superb throughout. This is the meat of the soloists’ contribution, and his approach was genuinely and convincingly operatic. He generated superb dynamic contrasts at times and was thoroughly in control throughout. The soprano sung by Sabrina Gárdez, had two major contributions towards the end, and during the second, the voice has to live alone amongst those assembled vast forces. It has to modally meander its way through a solo without accompaniment, and then meander back again to finish in the right place. Many do not succeed, but Sabrina Gárdez did. During this sequence, one reflects how rarely in this work anyone sings anything without unison accompaniment.

And, speaking of singing, Orfeón Donostiarra visiting Aliante again did a wonderful job on the text. Their collective subtlety of expression brought out what was in the work to express. Much of this choral writing seems to have the character of plain chant with rhythm, so often there simply isn’t the opportunity to show off harmonic complexity. Rhythmically, it’s a very different story and our choir was perfect.

So what does one do musically with it? The quiet sections have to be quiet and lyrical, while the fireworks need to be loud, spectacular and perhaps augmented by both speed and volume. Josep Vicent chose to mix in both at the end of tutti phrases and everything worked beautifully.

The other part of the evening was devoted to another resident of the concert hall repertoire, the second suite of Daphne and Chloe by Ravel. There is nothing literal about this music. Everything is mere suggestion, an expression of whatever internal reality or myth Maurice Ravel was wont to experience. As ever with Ravel, it is hard to pin this music down. It has to be experienced live and its effect, though lasting, even permanent, does not prompt the retention of earworms. A wordless chorus does much more than add emphasis and volume to the beginning and end. In the dawn sequence, especially, they add harmonic texture and colour.

What is utterly fascinating to see how the composer’s mind worked. In the opening dawn sequence, the violins are playing a repeated, barely audible arpeggio, which suggests darting insects, barely visible through the mist. This is music of truly sophisticated complexity, containing sound that has to be experienced and cannot be hummed, unlike Carl Orff’s masterpiece, which in comparison, does to the audience what the skewer does to the swan.

 

Helsinki Philharmonic under Saraste play a Sibelius programme

 

Jukka-Pekka Saraste conducted the Helsinki Philharmonic orchestra in a program devoted to the music of Sibelius. Now a Finnish conductor with a Finnish orchestra playing Finnish music might sound like it could turn out to be a cliché. But these people know precisely what they are doing with their national composer. Clearly, the Helsinki Orchestra plays a lot of Sibelius, but they also clearly never tire of the task.

The concert started with a work not published in the program. The previous concert had been cancelled in the aftermath of the devastating floods that had hit the Valencian region. As a mark of respect for those who have suffered, the orchestra opened with the Valse Triste of Sibelius. It was a gesture appreciated by the audience.

The first half of the concert then got underway with Jan Söderblom, the Helsinki Philharmonic leader playing the First Serenade for violin and orchestra, Opus 69a. This is a thoroughly understated work. The Second Serenade, more substantial and more musically interesting came third on the program with Jan Söderblom again as soloist.

In between, the orchestra’s principal flute, Niamh McKenna, was soloist in the Nocturne No.3 from Sibelius’s incidental music to Belshazzar’s Feast. So it was with these three short pieces, featuring solo violin, flute, and then violin again that the concert started. If I have a criticism, which I accept is the level of nitpicking, I would suggest that these three pieces should have been presented with the flute first or last, allowing the two serenades to be played back-to-back. It was in this form that the Helsinki orchestra premiered in 1915, a concert which also featured the original version of the fifth symphony.

The performance of Finlandia that followed saw several extra musicians take to the stage and the familiar cords did ring out. Finlandia is a thoroughly moving experience and no matter how many times it is played, it always has a rousing effect on an audience. This was no exception.

The second half was taken with a performance of the Fifth Symphony, though in its revised version, not the original of 1915, which is never now played. And the fifth is perhaps the composer’s most popular work, alongside the Violin Concerto. With such a well-known work, it would be easy to fall into the trap of mouthing platitudes, but this performance was anything but that. The music was fresh, as fresh as Sibelius himself would have wanted when he said that whereas modern composers were offering up cocktails, he only wanted fresh spring water. The music was both clear and refreshing.

There was also an encore, the Alla Marcha from the Karelia, which needed even more musicians on stage