“Full on enthusiasm, lightness of touch and an abundance of joy”

Editorial Rating:  5 Stars Outstanding.

It was a bit like getting ready to hear Mahler’s Eighth Symphony, The Symphony of a Thousand. For there were musicians, and musical instruments, seemingly everywhere. Six timpani, two bass drums, two harps, five French horns, a bass tuba, and I reckoned a hundred young choristers, all dressed in black, sitting neatly at the back. Clearly we were in for quite a show.

And it was a show full of contrasts, spaced over almost 200 years of composition, yet all compellingly complementary. The beautiful austerity of James MacMillan; the lush, joyful optimism of Hector Berlioz; and the intense twentieth century romanticism of Karyl Szymanowski.

Sir Kenneth MacMillan’s Little Mass for children’s chorus was “little” only in the sense of limiting itself to the Kyrie, Sanctus and Agnus Dei and scoring it for young voices. It is a work of substance, first performed in Liverpool almost a year ago and premiered in Scotland with us. A piece of some drama: ghoulish, austere, dissonant and utterly beautiful. Undoubtedly a difficult work to perform, the RSNO Junior Chorus gave an excellent account of themselves in a composition many senior choirs would struggle with. Difficult intonations, tricky entries and fiercely challenging harmonies were sung with confidence and precision, with the cherry on top of the composer coming on to the platform to receive the applause and rightly point to the choir’s laudable achievement. Promising start.

A few minutes later on came Scotland’s musical sweetheart, Nicola Benedetti, resplendent in what looked like a Dolce and Gabbana figure-hugging long black dress with signature cascading curls hairstyle. It is a credit to her playing that one soon forgot such superficial accoutrements. Szymanowski and Benedetti have history, of the good kind. His first violin concerto was the piece that won her Young Musician of the Year in 2004 and her recording premiere for Deutsche Grammophon a year later. Tonight we heard her play the second concerto, a more complex work with a lot of writing in the higher register. Benedetti gave it everything and we got it all back. The young woman combines a phenomenal technique with extraordinary feeling; her 1717 ‘Gariel’ Stradivari more than responding to what she asked of it as it approaches its 300^th birthday. Szymanowski’s intelligent and well-rounded orchestration gave the band ample opportunity to support and interplay with the solo part in this break-less twenty-five minute piece in the twentieth century romantic genre. Fine playing throughout. Kindly, this young woman who has absolutely no side, treated us to a Bach sarabande for an encore, considerately thanking us for our applause and announcing what she was going to play.

There is often a slight feeling of flatness as one dutifully returns to the auditorium for the second, usually symphonic part of the programme after the glamour and fireworks of the soloist and concerto have gone. Peter Oundjian and the RSNO were having none of this and brought Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantastique to light in a way that I have rarely heard it played, with full on enthusiasm, lightness of touch and an abundance of joy. More a symphonic poem than a symphony, there is a danger of the brass dominating, but Oudjian let everybody have their say: a beautiful intertwining of a very exposed but very well played cor anglais and timpani in the third movement; glorious, roaring brass in the fourth, and almost a fairground cacophony in the final fifth movement, the strings being given their head and the conductor, who one felt was liberating rather than directing the orchestra, ensuring balance, never vulgarity, and not once committing the cardinal sin of “looking encouragingly at the brass”. We left the auditorium chuckling.

Reviewer: Charles Stokes (Seen 18 March)

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http://www.nigelkennedy.co.uk/about/

Editorial Rating: 5 Stars:  Outstanding

“Superlative musicianship … beautiful music from about two inches of steel E string  “

“Have you got anything by Nigel Kennedy?”  the enthusiastic lady said to the bemused shop assistant in the HMV Record Store, Oxford Street, some thirty years ago.  Mostly people asked for music by title or by composer, and when  by artist only those of a more traditional, established genre.  Here was a new phenomenon: the classical musician as rockstar.  Since then, more have come.  But Kennedy was the trailblazer.

It has been greatly to Kennedy’s credit that his unconventional dress sense and stage demeanour (fist bumps, shouts, foot stamping et al) has not got in the way of his superlative musicianship.  Yes, he has succeeded in making classical music more attainable, but not by getting into crossover or dumbing down.  Notwithstanding the informal approach, he has always taken his music intensely seriously.  Comparisons may be odious, but Joshua Bell played the Usher Hall a couple of weeks ago.  Both players are at the top of their game.  But I know who nailed it. 

Wednesday’s programme was a music critic’s nightmare.  None of the works (apart from the original ‘Four Seasons’)  is in the public domain (for once, Grove failed to come to the rescue) and the programme notes contained nothing about the music, just biographies of the band, a largely Polish contingent of exceptional ability.  I was on my own.

Never fear, Nigel introduced the pieces and in every one you could see where he was coming from.  First off was an Amuse bouche of a Bach partita that threw the theme back and forth between violin and cello, exquisitely played with a real bond between the star and talented acolyte Peter Adams.

There then followed four of Kennedy’s own compositions.  Dia Jarka, dedicated to contemporary guitarist/composer Jarek Smetana –  and as far as we can tell, no relation to Bedrich – had the guitars and double bass laying down a raga style line, with nuances of the Beatles’ Maharishi phase.   Stephane Grappelli was a folk/jazz fusion as one might expect, but not in the “swing” Grappelli style; more intense. Kennedy’s relationship with Grappelli, was, of course, similarly deep, from when he first disobeyed the orders of his over strict teachers at the Juilliard to go on stage to play jazz with the old man at Carnegie Hall, with brandy having been taken to steady the nerves as he risked expulsion.  One is reminded of Nureyev in his early days rebelling against the Kirov. Different political system; similar didactic musical approach.

For Isaac Stern came next with a beautiful interpolation of violin and viola, followed by a tribute to American bluegrass composer/violinist Mark O’Connor with the unusual but effective combination of violin, bowed double bass and guitar.

After some playful fooling around deceiving the audience they were going to hear more, Kennedy made the audience friendly announcement “Ladies and gentleman it is my sad duty to stop playing and let you go to the bar”.  So we did.

The second half was Kennedy’s signature piece, The Four Seasons, but in his own arrangement for strings, two guitars and piano.  It worked. Antonio Vivaldi would not be so much as turning in his grave as wanting to get out of it so that he could join the party.  There followed some forty five minutes of “extras” – one would hardly call them encores because they were generously offered without the audience asking, and a near three hour set was concluded with a sublime rendition of the Londonderry Air, taking it right up into the highest register (could it have been eleventh position?) and Kennedy still getting beautiful music from about two inches of steel E string.  I was reminded, perhaps not too strangely, how the Rolling Stones played way over time at Wembley in 1990 having had to finish early the previous evening.  Oh, Danny Boy, we were sorry to see him go, but, boy, had we had our money’s worth!

Reviewer: Charles Stokes (Seen 27 January)

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