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.

The third Gonzalo Soriano Piano Competition in Alicante

 

From 23rd April 26 April 2025, some 90 competitors took part in the third Gonzalo Soriano Piano Competition. The participants competed across five categories based on age, right from “prodigios”, who were very young indeed, up to the adult category D, in which the participants are basically already professional or semi-professional pianists seeking to enhance their careers. The Gonzalo Soriano Piano Competition is organized by Ars Alta Cultural (arsatlacultural.com) with the cooperation of Alicante’s Conservatorio Profesional de Música Guitarrista “José Tomás”.

The adult category was scheduled over the first two days of the competition and the final took place on the Friday evening. Three participants were selected to play half hour programs in the final, being Luis Cabello López from Spain, Yui Higashijima from Japan and Michał Selwesiuk from Poland.

The competition’s first prize went to Yui Higashijima. Second prize went Michał Selwesiuk and third prize to the 19-year-old Luis Cabello López from Spain. All three performances in the final were superb. Luis’s interpretation of the Second Sonata of Prokofiev was both exciting and witty. He stresses the angularity of the writing, but uses liberal legato where tenderness shows through the composer’s is almost metallic sheen. Bartok’s percussive Sonata completed his program. Now this is a very difficult work to interpret. It’s quieter sections can sometimes seem lacking in direction, but overall, Luis’s interpretation was exciting and satisfying.

Yui Higashijima’s program was a complete contrast to what had gone before. She offered JS Bach’s Toccata in D Minor, BWV 917, which she played with complete lyrical control. It’s amazing how Bach’s music suggests harmonic complexities by juxtaposing ideas rather than sounding chords. All this music’s elegance and sophistication came alive in her performance. She followed with Rachmaninov’s Variations on a Theme of Corelli, Opus 42. Unlike Rachmaninov’s Paganini Variations, this work has few memorable tunes, and fewer technical gymnastics and, of course, is for solo piano. But nevertheless it is still by Rachmaninov, and it is designed to be technically demanding. Yui played it in such a way that the technical demands were not obvious because the music flowed by virtue of the energy and accuracy of her performance.

Michał Selwesiuk also programmed Rachmaninov. He began with Moments Musicaux No1 from Opus 16 which, if anything, is Rachmaninov in a more reflective, understated style. He played the piece almost as if it were prelude to what followed, which was Chopin’s B-flat minor Sonata, Opus 35. This is a major work in the piano repertoire and Michał’s playing and interpretation of it with faultless.

Personally, I am not a judge of piano playing. The Gonzalo Soriano Piano Competition, however, had four judges who all have extensive experience and expertise in the role. Helena Sul from Sweden, Denise Lutgens from the Netherlands, Dorian Leljac and Danijel Gašparović from Croatia judged collectively that Yui Higashijima would be awarded first prize, Michał Selwesiuk second prize and Luis Cabello third prize. As a lover of music, I can testify that these three performances, covering such a different repertoire, were all thoroughly professional, and what is more, musically and artistically moving.

In the other categories, Mara Spitz was awarded absolute first prize in category C, Petar Vidošević in category B and Deedeh Rouhani in category A. All the prodigies who took part were awarded prizes.

Four days is a lot of piano music. But the hard work, dedication, and practice by these young players is a pure joy to witness. And if it were to happen again next week, I would want to attend every session, but this time in the audience! One can only hope that music lovers can have a chance to hear more of these gifted performers in the future.

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.

 

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.

 

Josep Vicent directs ADDA Simfonica in Rimsky-Korsakov and Bizet, Scheherazade meets Carmen

 

When you go to concerts regularly, there are works that tend to appear frequently. After the first few times in the concert hall, there is always a temptation to say “not again” and avoid the evening. On the other hand, the irregular concertgoer is often attracted by these familiar works, and without fail including them in a programme will put bums on seats. Both opinions are wrong. Not only is the unfamiliar more likely to provide memorable experience, but the familiar is also experienced anew every time it is performed. If the work is played well and generously interpreted, there is always something original to be found.

This preamble thus introduces a review of ADDA Simfonica’s concert of last Saturday which featured Rimsky-Korsakov Scheherazade and Bizet’s Carmen Suites.

Scheherazade is a symphony in all but title. Alternatively, it might even be heard as an approach to a violin concerto, a kind of Ein Heldenleben before its time. Its four movements roughly follow a symphonic mould, but there the analogy disappears. The music is in fact, much more like Wagner than Brahms, with not only a programme, but also musical germs which are heard like leitmotifs. Josep Vicent was clear in his notes that the composer himself did not consider these thematic motifs as anything other than ideas stemming from the natural development of the material. But in fat they are a tad too literal to be anything Wagner-style leitmotifs,

Josep Vicent’s interpretation with our beloved orchestra stressed both the realism and the dynamics of the piece. Though an expert orchestrator, Rimsky-Korsakov’s style does at times appear to be rather “on” or “off”, there being apparently very little between pianissimo and full tutti. And in those tutti, the orchestral sound is thick, deliberately so, and undeniably rich, with the tuba always filling out every possible space beneath.

And what a performance this was - captivating, exciting, certainly dynamic, but always subtle. Anna Nilsen’s violin playing from the leader’s chair was exquisite, as was every contribution from the harp. It was a program that certainly re-opened my ears anew to a work that I have heard many times.

And speaking of the familiar, Bizet’s Carmen Suites that followed were surprisingly subtle in terms of orchestration compared to the first half. When, I wonder, was the last time a concert review described Bizet’s orchestration as light? It is. After all, a relative judgment.

Music works in strange ways. As a child, Bizet’s music for Carmen became familiar via a television advertisement for a brand of petrol and to this day whenever I hear the massage I silently sing-along with these wrong words, thus preserving a brand name for gasoline that still exists. So for me, the familiarity got the better of the experience with this music. But the performance was nothing less than excellent. The tunes flowed, the drama was tense, and the music was always centre stage.

There was an encore. Josep Vicent and the ADDA orchestra had recently played Brahms. Ironically, given this evening’s programme, the conductor announced that no matter how many times his music is played, there is always some space for more Brahms. The audience was then treated to a passage from a symphonic slow movement. The experience was a theme for the evening.

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

Paquito D'Rivera and Aaron Copland under Jost Vicent in Adda, Alicante

Apparently, this was a program of two halves. Meaningless phrases are always the best openings… On the face of it, the first half of this concert was dedicated to not only the performance skills of a notable Latin-jazz musician, but also featured his composing skills. Paquito D’Rivera was born in 1948 and made his first public performance as a musician between five and six years old. As he explained to the audience before the concert, that meant he was celebrating seventy years on stage.

He also told us that a friend told him a joke about an elephant, and that led to the composition of the piece that opened the concert, The Elephant and the Clown. This orchestral work lasts about eight minutes and features an array of percussion and lines that might be described as jazz riffs played by different sections of the orchestra, especially the strings. This is upbeat, optimistic music, which presents a sophisticated, improvised style to larger forces.

“The Journey”, Rice and Beans Concerto followed. This was utterly original in that it featured a quintet of soloists, playing percussion, piano, cello, harmonica and clarinet, the latter played by the composer himself. This combo of soloists played in concerto fashion alongside the orchestra in the piece that mixed Cuban rhythms with jazz, with classical forms, with African influences, and even the sounds of Chinese music, since one of the piece’s movements was inspired by a visit to a Chinese barrio in Havana. Antonio Serrano played harmonica and Pepe Rivero piano. Yuvisney Aguilar clearly had wonderful time on percussion, while Guillame Latil made light of an incredibly demanding and significant cello part, originally played in the work’s premiere by Yo-Yo Ma.

Overall, the three sections Beans, Rice, and The Journey made a spectacular impression on the audience, with again apparent jazz riffs regularly racing through the scoring. But this was not “light” music. There are really challenging sounds in this score, and many quotational references, both thematically and texturally to the concert hall repertoire of the twentieth century.

An encore was inevitable. Another short orchestral piece by Paquito D’Rivera filled the bill perfectly. Personally, I have never heard his music before this concert and this experience will surely have me thoroughly explore his works.

The other half of the contrast, in theory, came in the shape of the Symphony No. 3 of Aaron Copland. Could this be further from the riffs and improvisatory style of the first half? Surely this is one of the twentieth century’s major works…

And it was here that the stroke of Josep Vicent’s artistic direction emerged, because repeatedly in this score Aaron Copeland uses jazz like patterns in the strings. They are not as fast, not as advertently virtuosic as those that Paquito D’Rivera had written, but they were there. And, well, Paquito D’Rivera might be a Cuban, but he has spent much of his artistic life in the USA, effectively importing an émigré style and presenting it to an American audience. But we must remind ourselves that Aaron Copland’s family were themselves emigres from Russia. So this quintessentially American music might just have its roots elsewhere!

Copland’s Third Symphony is itself an optimistic affirmation of individuality. Just like jazz. And by the time the theme of The Fanfare for the Common Man appeared in the last movement, having been regularly suggested throughout the previous three, the effect is totally symphonic. The music seems to grow, with an idea that is bigger than its own sound.

But it is never secure in its affirmation. Modal harmonies see to that, always suggesting a major key, but always refusing to forget the possibility of the minor. There is always somewhere else in mind. Both Aaron Copland and Paquito D’Rivera remind us that we are all in the mix together, influenced by many cultures and sharing the same world.

Shostakovich’s Waltz from the Jazz Suites came as an encore. Its surreal use of a minor key for the dance’s main theme always surprises. Paquito D’Rivera also felt a certain surprise when the second encore offered Happy Birthday to him to celebrate his seventy years on stage.

ADDA Alicante under Josep Vicent begin a new season with Bruckner's Seventh Symphony

 

Anton Bruckner was born in 1824, meaning this year is his bicentenary. In recognition of this, the new season of Alicante concerts opened with a performance of his Seventh Symphony by the ADDA orchestra under the artistic director, Josep Vicent.

This is a mammoth work that lasts over an hour. The first two movements alone exceeded forty minutes. As a result, as with this evening, it is often played alone, with no other work either before or after it to offer musical contrast. With such immersion, an audience ought to feel bathed in the musical style to such an extent that the experience is all enveloping.

But nothing involving Anton Buckner is ever that that simple. He was a paradoxically simple man, yet simultaneously outrageously complex. Deeply religious, but with an often-expressed passion – unrealised - for young girls, he seemed to offer up to the world a riddle that could never be solved. A professor in Vienna and a teacher of many years, he never attained sufficient confidence in his own abilities to finish definitively most of his works. Near constant revision, often prompted by the lukewarm praise of others, left multiple versions of many of his works. This can give much scope for conductors to pick and choose, to incorporate this revision or ignore another. Definitive Bruckner is an oxymoron.

And with the work of Anton Bruckner, no one is going to notice very much, given that by design the music often swerves, changes direction or delights in apparent non sequiturs quite often. Bulow described the composer as “half genius, half simpleton” and he had the reputation, even in society events, of turning up dressed like a peasant. He was an enigma, was overtly sensuous with the sound of his music, but deeply religious, and lived, generally speaking, the life of an ascetic. His express motivation was to write music to celebrate the glory of God, in both scale and depth.

The ADDA programme notes quoted Wilhelm Furtwangler saying that Bruckner composed Gothic music that had mistakenly been transplanted into the nineteenth century. Stylistically, the music is far from Gothic, but perhaps its architecture is not. Personally, I would go as far as describing the symphonies as cathedrals, where the parts only come together when the whole is considered from afar. There are no grab quotes from these symphonies, except perhaps in the scherzi, and even these are heavy on process rather than melody.

A possible problem with the cathedral analogy is perhaps that the composer had forgotten to include a door. It is possible to experience this music and feel permanently shut out. Yes, the edifice is impressive. Yes, it towers above us. But does it ever reveal its interior?

Having discussed the work, what about the performance? Well, it was faultless, committed, subtle, and even communicative. The Wagner tubas did not play a wrong note all evening, which is rarely the case with this notoriously mind-of-its-own instrument. Their sound, booming and enveloping, when added to a full orchestra created a special world, which the audience eagerly inhabited.

Josep Vicent drew every morsel of texture from the score and the resulting detail, even within the tutti, was simply vivid. In recognition of the work’s dedication to Ludwig II of Bavaria. The concert bore the subtitle “Legend of the mad king”. It wasn’t a legend, but it was a great start to a new season.

ADDA Simfonica with Irene Theorin under Josep Vicent in Strauss and Shostakovich

 

Concerts seasons often parade a procession of “great works” calculated to promote ticket sales. Anything less well known is often regarded as risky because audiences, though they tend not to know what they like, always like what they know. Performances of great works often become mundane acknowledgments of the work’s existence, without getting to grips with its substance. Audiences go home happy, ticket sales are satisfactory, and the works of thousands of composers never see the light of day.

So would the program of the Four Last songs of Richard Strauss followed by Shostakovich’s Seventh Symphony fall into this perfunctory category? It might. But in Alicante’s ADDA concert hall last night, it definitely did not. Indeed, this is never the case when it comes to the playing and interpretation of ADDA Simfònica under Josep Vicent. Last night, the audience was surely in the presence of living greatness, not just past achievement. During last week, I met a friend whom I knew would also be going to hear the music and expressed the opinion that Shostakovich’s Leningrad Symphony was a life-changer. I understated the reality. And you might be wondering why a concert review opens like this… I hope to make that clear later. First, the facts.

The hall was packed to hear Iréne Theorin sing the Four Last Songs of Richard Strauss and the ADDA Simfònica under artistic director Josep Vicent play the symphony. To say that this audience loves its resident orchestra would also be an understatement. Every player is applauded onto the stage and off it, every time. This adoration is individual recognition, communally expressed, of both the work the orchestra does in presenting taxing programmes and also the quality of the experience they regularly deliver. ADDA Simfònica is now a great orchestra, and their artistic director is the leading light.

We began last night with Richard Strauss’s songs, with Iréne Theorin as soloist. The opening phrases might have suggested that she might have a little too much vibrato for this work, but like many initial fears this proved groundless. This is a work that needs control and expression, rather than power or decoration, and Iréne Theorin not only delivered, she excelled. There was a slight surprise when at the end of the fourth song, when the valedictory trills on the flute were played rather softer than is often the case. In the context of the work, this low-key wave of goodbye fitted perfectly. It is not surprising, given the soloist’s experience in performing the music of Richard Strauss that Iréne Theorin’s interpretation proved nothing less than exceptional. We did have an encore. It was one of Strauss’s orchestral songs, which ultimately gave Iréne Theorin an opportunity to demonstrate a little of her power.

And then what more can be written about this symphony? Let’s take for granted that it was played wonderfully, was interpreted to perfection and was received in absolute silence with every note absorbed by its audience.

For me personally, the opening movement has a clear programme. The complexity and sophistication of ordinary life in Leningrad is portrayed in the opening section in music that regularly changes key and rhythm. The simple message of the opposing theme portrays the idea of fascism. Keep it simple and keep saying the same thing. People will believe you. It starts small, indeed it does. But with each new adherent, the ideology grows into something that creates a powerful need to impose itself on everything. Ideologically this is the fascism of the 1930s. Musically, it is the ideology of pop, being populism, not popularity. That comes later. Just try getting away from pop music… And, I might add, I don’t mean Indian pop, or Tanzanian pop. I mean an international pop, nearly always in sung in English, where the visuals trump the aurals. Here I return to the idea at the start of the piece, because it is a marketing necessity that the product should always be presented that way. Make sure there are no surprises, and then you will not offend. And you will sell more worthless product.

At the end of the first movement, after the idea of fascism has led to huge conflict, the sophisticated life of those who don’t want everything to be the same returns, but it is exhausted. Though the movement ends lyrically, the fascist tendency is still there, perhaps in the form of a dictator, perhaps acknowledging that this desire to impose the conformity of a group is part of us all. At the end of the symphony, when the triumphal but unconvincing fanfares ring out, proclaiming what is clearly a rather hollow victory, the memory of conflict, complete with its conformity-imposing mechanical rhythm is still there. But is it now at least the rhythm of the opening of Beethoven’s Fifth?

The symphony’s central movements are full of reflection, lyricism, nostalgia, desolation and nightmare. It is an acknowledgment of the excellent design of the ADDA hall to record that even pianissimo pizzicati can be heard anywhere. We assume, of course, as ever, that there is near total silence from the audience. There always is.

My introduction of the work to the work came from Leonard Bernstein’s CBS recording with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Throughout, he uses significantly slower tempi than we heard last night. It’s a different take on what is, after all, a personal experience. On this recording, there is a moment during the first movement, when the sophistication of the people returns after the war, after the exhaustion is expressed and the desolation is recorded, when the sophistication represented by the strings returns with renewed but exhausted energy. On the recording, just before this entry, Bernstein issues a long side of relief which was picked up by the microphones. Personally, I cannot listen to this music without hearing that unscored sigh. I heard the reissue of the same recording a few weeks ago, and the engineers have removed the sigh.

At the start of the symphony last night, Josep Vicent decided to project images of the siege of Leningrad on the backdrop, closing the sequence with a statement that there were currently fifty conflicts in the world and that collectively we wanted to be ambassadors of peace. I said earlier that the Leningrad Symphony is a life-changer, and it still is, no matter how many times it is heard. Let’s put the people back into music, no matter how much we crave standardized products. Experience is unique. And this one was no exception. And it will live a lifetime.