Two BBCSO concerts: Ravel, Poulenc, Martinu, Lindberg

Poulenc Les animaux modèles (suite with readings)
Ravel L’enfant et les sortilèges
BBCSO with Royal Academy of Music Students and Stephen Mangan, conducted by Stéphane Denève
26/04/13

Martinu Concerto for String Quartet and Orchestra
Lindberg Clarinet Concerto
BBCSO with Apollon Musagete Quartet and Mark Simpson, conducted by Baldur Brönnimann
30/04/13

I wasn't going to review either of these concerts but a train of thought that linked them was swirling around in my mind so I thought I'd exorcise it by setting some ideas down. The first concert I went to primarily for the Ravel opera, a score I sometimes still struggle with, despite its delights. This was not the most orchestrally luxurious reading but the young RAM soloists did well, nicely articulating the French, though none fully technically mastered these tiny roles. It must be said though that having to establish a character (and establish stability in the voice) in such a short time is a real challenge for any singer, and no one did a disservice to Ravel's music. Jean-Baptiste Barriére provided a video accompaniment on a screen behind the singers that was rather literal and not hugely alluring in its primary colours and photoshop effects. It would surely have been more enjoyable for the kids (this was billed as a "family concert") to see the opera semi-staged.

Poulenc's lavish ballet suite Les animaux modèles (1941-3), amusingly and engagingly narrated by actor Stephen Mangan, was a nice rarity to experience, though it is hardly vintage Poulenc. I've talked before about Poulenc's thieving but in this piece the thefts are so blatant and the score so inflated beyond its means that as soon as we notice what's going on, boredom rears its ugly head and it's impossible to ignore the lack of inspiration. The thefts are the usual suspects - Stravinsky, Ravel, Chabrier, Canteloube - and it would be possible to point not just to particular works, but particular bars that Poulenc is sourcing his material from - the end of Ravel's left hand piano concerto for instance is plundered mercilessly. The swooning strings and jungle like density of the orchestration (Villa-Lobos, only pleasant) over the plodding and dutifully sentimental harmony, point to Hollywood as the fundamental "Ur-theft", already an idiom where borrowing and imitation is the order of the day. (Indeed, having just checked, it seems he was concurrently writing for the silver screen at this time). The result, though lovely moment by moment, ends up being curiously bland in the long range and unworthy of Poulenc's best, because although his fundamental technique hasn't changed, it feels by rote and lacks his peculiar piquancy.

Lindberg's ebullient and lush clarinet concerto (2002) is also marked by flagrant borrowing and is an enjoyable romp, especially when played so entirely dazzlingly by Mark Simpson, replete with partially improvised cadenza (the best portion of the performance!). Again, Hollywood schmaltz is a clear point of contact but it's made fuzzy and "serious" by filtration through Lutoslawski. The result is cartoonish in its eclecticism, which can be fun, and though Lindberg moves surprisingly smoothly between the two, and does lots of beautiful things, the self conscious juxtaposition of these disparate elements feels dilettantish in not really being fully committed to either and so the final impression is one of superficiality because the musical materials aren't being taken entirely seriously by their composer. Or to put it another way, their integration and synthesis feels incomplete. Perhaps it was just in this performance that Baldur Brönnimann was underlining these contrasts, and I will recant totally if I hear another performance? Corigliano's famous clarinet concerto of 1977 suffers in an analogous way - though it's enjoyable when taken as pure entertainment, the huge dramatic gestures come out as total melodrama in the post modern context of the piece because they don't derive from musical logic and so it's difficult to take seriously in terms of what it Corigliano claims he is trying to express.

Martinu's Concerto for String Quartet and Orchestra is typical of his earliest phase in being a classic example of motorically spiky 1920's neoclassicism and also depressingly grey in colour - the Dvorakian luminosity and lyrical gift was not to appear for another few years.

Julietta at the ENO

29/09/2012

Martinu remains a master of music whose time has still not yet come. Perhaps he will never achieve true popularity, but amongst sympathetic listeners he has his following. His profile is not as strong or quirky as his compatriot Janacek who has attained a degree of repertoire status, but he still has a very individual personality and his music rewards exploration. Part of the problem is that the sheer size of his output prevents wider dissemination: it's hard to get an overview when there are famously over 400 opus numbers, making him exceptionally prolific amongst 20th century composers. But his melodic gift, always instantly recognisable in it's Dvorakian generosity, memorability and folk inflected contours, allied with his luminous harmony and orchestration make him one of the most positive of 20th century composers. In the early career of the 20s, spiky neoclassicism is the preferred style, but this relaxes into a more lush romanticism in the 30s and 40s, which gets ever mistier and more complicated in the later symphonies, which have a peculiar aura, a chromatic haze, and buzzing restlessness which adds yet another interesting flavour to his fundamental warmth. His last few symphonies and chamber music are particular favourites for mine - the second cello sonata for instance I would rank the equal of any composed in the 20th century.

Julietta then is a departure: it is much drier and thinner than is Martinu's norm, but we are also told of his rewrites and revisions from his death bed - this was the piece about which he cared more than any other. The first thing that struck me were the clear and constant allusions to the Rite of Spring - not just in the high bassoon writing of the melodic fragment that opens the opera and keeps reappearing, but in the harmony, the orchestration, the little motivic fragments in their contour and use of intervals twist and wail just as they do in the Rite. It also shares the Rite's anti-lyricism, and psychological rawness - anti refinement, rather than anti sophistication. Folksyness is largely absent, though occasionally the familiar Martinu breaks through (usually during love scenes), with his unmistakable melodic sweep and harmonic circularity but it's only ever for a few bars, and we're back to dryness. Act I and II occur during the protagonist's sleep, and act III, only marginally less surreal, is set in the Ministry of Dreams, ostensibly existing in the real waking world, a place were people purchase dream fantasies. A dream within a dream? The music here in the 'real world' is considerably juicier, suggesting again that the dryness of the rest is a choice. We need to ask ourselves why Martinu chose to do this before dismissing the score's dessication, unappealing harshness and inconsistency of tone.

I think the key lies in the uncomfortable surrealism of the libretto - the opera isn't meant to be wacky in any way, but an exploration of the subconscious, fantasy and wish fulfilment. Dreams are only very rarely glowing landscapes and beautiful emotions (and Martinu does provide us with these things, if briefly), they are mostly fragmentary, inane, and occasionally unsettling. If they tell us anything, it is uncomfortable truths and hidden desires. Though I did enjoy Richard Jones's production visually I often thought that he was missing the point - he'd always go for a laugh when the libretto let him, rather than give a situation a more sinister or even disturbing undertone. A world in which no one can remember anyone, is a nightmarish one, not a whimsical one. That Michel chooses to remain in his fantasy, in love with his fictional lover even when he knows he's wrong is an interesting and jarring conclusion, in opera of all art forms which usually has such simple, black and white resolutions.

Still, Act I worked well, the acting and lighting choreographed to the music to a very impressive degree. The forest scene of Act II fell flatter dramatically, but Act III picked up again, at least for the first half with its army of zombie like people trying to escape life into dreams - a disturbing vision. Across the three acts, the over riding set motif was a huge accordion, which actually only appears in the libretto and music in Act I, but here each act offered a different view of it. Maybe it doesn't need to make sense logically in this of all pieces, and it certainly was one of the strongest things visually I've seen at the opera for a while, but then it could have pushed far more into the surreal and phantasmagorical, or gone much further with the perverse, bastardised logic of the libretto.

Peter Hoare did very well in the title role, leading us ably through the drama: he probably sings at least half the vocal writing in the opera - Julietta is actually a quite minor presence. There's a rough edge in the voice which didn't matter too much here, as lyricism is not what this character is about. (As an aside, in costume I thought he looked quite a lot like comedian Simon Amstel.) Julia Sporsén sung some lovely phrases as Julietta, though the vibrato is just a little wide and slow for me to honestly say that this is a beautiful voice - the ideal would surely be the creamiest lyric soprano available to reflect the wish fulfilment and fantasy that this character represents. The rest of the cast also acquitted themselves very well without anyone particularly standing out. A very good ensemble effort, and this is by no means an opera about vocal display.

I know I always complain about this, but the Coliseum's acoustics really hampered my appreciation of the often excellent orchestral playing (and I was sitting in the stalls!). In all honesty I think I couldn't tell you what kind of conductor Ed Gardner is because I've never really heard the sound that the ENO orchestra makes. His conducting seemed authoritative, but didn't have the special sparkle and energy of Macckeras' recording of excerpts - however, is this just the damp acoustics, or is it a genuine lack of focus in the playing? I want to give him the benefit of the doubt.

ENO's 2012-2013 Season

Here's what I'm most excited about.

Julietta by Martinu is an absolutely glorious score. It's maybe his best work - fizzing with nervous energy, it's a febrile, shifting mental landscape, with stretches of music that are extraordinarily beautiful too. It's not as lush as many of the concertos and smaller pieces, but it is a fascinating work.

Yoshi Oida stages Pilgrim's Progress for the first time since 1951. It's Vaughan William's most ambitious score, and perhaps (perhaps) his greatest. It's certainly very beautiful - much of it was recycled into the 5th symphony, his most personal.

The Traviata is the ultra stripped down and ultra detailed Konwitschny production. The entire set is one chair. Sounds very interesting to me.

Bieito's Carmen - he's always controversial (often to the point of tedium) and occasionally very interesting. Ruxandra Donose as Carmen too.

Charpentier's Medea is new to me, so I'll have to check it out. It's the older Charpentier - from the 17th century. Sarah Connolly as Medea. And it's being directed by David McVIcar. Cool.

Wozzeck. It's Wozzeck. Hasn't been done in London for a while. A must.

Sunken Garden actually sounds quite intriguing from the clips of the composer's I've heard - London hasn't exactly had a great record with contemporary opera in the last couple of years, so lets hope!

And Death in Venice. This is an extraordinary opera, Britten's last. One of my favourites, so pared down, so personal, so strange. So glad it's being done.






A few other notes:


-Queen of the night not yet cast for The Magic Flute.

-In that production, gay Don G Duncan Rock will be singing Papageno. He's also Morales in Carmen.

-Emilie Renard who is one of my young singers to look out for is playing three small roles in Julietta.

-Lucy Crowe is in Barber of Seville, and I've never yet seen her. Very intrigued.





Here's the new season in full.


The Magic Flute, Mozart, opens 13 September 2012

Julietta, Martinů, opens 17 September 2012

Julius Caesar, Handel, opens 1 October 2012

Don Giovanni, Mozart, opens 17 October 2012

The Pilgrim’s Progress, Vaughan Williams, opens 5 November 2012

Carmen, Bizet, opens 21 November 2012

The Mikado, Gilbert and Sullivan, opens 1 December 2012

La traviata, Verdi, opens 2 February 2013

Medea, Charpentier, opens 15 February 2013

The Barber of Seville, Rossini, opens 25 February 2013

Sunken Garden, Van der Aa, opens 12 April 2013

La bohème, Puccini, opens 29 April 2013

Wozzeck, Berg, opens 11 May 2013

The Perfect American, Glass, opens 1 June 2013

Death in Venice, Britten, opens 14 June 2013