SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

Other Links

Editorial Board

Google Site Search

Mendelssohn, Mozart, Schubert: Paul Lewis (piano), Scotish Chamber Orchestra / Andrew Manze (conductor) Queen’s Hall, Edinburgh, 7.1.2009 (SRT)

Mendelssohn: The Fair Melusine

Mozart: Piano Concerto No. 27 in B flat K595

Schubert: Symphony No. 4 in C minor “Tragic”


In a year of many musical anniversaries, the Scottish Chamber Orchestra has chosen to focus on Mendelssohn, perhaps due to his well known Scottish connections.  This concert kicks off their Mendelssohn 200 series and there will be much more to follow.  This concert opened with his concert overture The Fair Melusine, inspired by a myth similar to that of Rusalka where a water sprite goes through many sacrifices to win the love of a mortal.  It’s often said that the rippling opening theme inspired the Rheingold prelude, and the SCO winds deserve real praise for the skilful way they negotiated the quick-fire notes while maintaining the legato.  The stormier second theme also pulled no punches with a real edge given to the music by the use of natural timpani and brass.  If this is a mere curtain raiser then the SCO’s journey into the more substantial Mendelssohn repertoire later this month holds much to look forward to.

Paul Lewis joined them for the Mozart concerto.  After his recent cycle of Beethoven sonatas on Harmonia Mundi it seems that Lewis can do no wrong and he brought real star quality to this often understated concerto.  His playing was bright and lithe, matched by a pared down orchestra who found the delicacy in this late masterpiece.  We found surprises too, however, such as the brief cadenza at the start of the first movement’s development where genuine darkness threatened the sunny mood.  The sublime slow movement seemed to hang in suspended animation; the piano’s solos held a beautiful stillness while the orchestra commented with calm subtlety.  There was a genuine bounce to the rondo finale, though a more melancholic feel wasn’t too far away.  The magical entry of the strings after the final cadenza was beautifully understated.

It was in the Schubert, however, that conductor Andrew Manze seemed most at home.  He conducted this youthful masterpiece with palpable energy and drive, and the orchestra responded in kind.  The SCO are among the greatest exponents of period-style playing on modern instruments: this skill enriched all the works in the evening, but was at its most potent in the Schubert.  The opening C minor chord had a genuinely startling edge to it, and the whole orchestra played with vigour and dynamism in the stormy first movement.  The slow movement brought little peace, and the syncopated minuet seemed manic, threatening to spiral out of control.  Manze kept a feeling of chaos hovering just below the surface while never allowing the music to seem coarse.  When the finale finally did achieve C major the triumph felt rather shallow and unconvincing, surely Schubert’s point all along. 

As a treat after the interval we were given the orchestrated version of the Scherzo from Mendelssohn’s Octet which, Manze informed us, was arranged as a substitute for the Minuet of his first symphony for a concert in London.  It was great fun, particularly for anyone who knows the original.  The wind contribution was again particularly notable, and there were other typically Mendelssohnian touches, such as the timpani strokes which accompanied the final pizzicati.  The whole concert was yet another feather in the SCO’s cap, and a great way to launch an anniversary year.

Simon Thompson

By their very nature, requiems contain a lot of soul-searching and a need to make good with your ‘Maker’ from one side of the grave or the other. With Verdi’s 1874 Requiem the deceased have not yet passed through the gates of Heaven and are on the brink of death and railing against it. Verdi’s deeply-religious work is a monument to a great man, the Italian novelist and poet Allessandro Manzoni whom Verdi revered and who died in 1873.

Verdi began completing the Requiem after his opera Aida and was at the height of his operatic powers - hence the cliché that this mass is indeed the composer’s ‘greatest opera’. There are arguments to say that this is not far from the truth since the ‘Lacrimosa’ was recycled music from Don Carlo and the beginning of the fearsomely hellish Dies Irae brings us the sound world of the anvil chorus from Il trovatore. Other operatic influences include the Aida-like choruses and large brass choir.

Nevertheless, whilst undoubtedly concerned with death and dying, Verdi makes this requiem into a celebration of life. David Cairns’ programme note for this London Symphony Orchestra concert supports this  idea and seems to describe Verdi’s wish to transcend death by reminding us of Arrigo Boito’s comments after seeing Verdi on his death-bed: ‘Never have I had such a feeling of hatred against death, of contempt of that mysterious, blind, stupid, triumphant and craven power … He hated it, for he was the most powerful expression of life that it is possible to imagine’. It is this ‘powerful expression of life’ that is the essence of Verdi’s Requiem. The fact that this performance  - and its subsequent repeat a few days later, were both dedicated to the memory of the conductor, Richard Hickok, taken from the world of classical music at a relatively young age of 60 only heightened the work’s emotional impact.

The Requiem begins with a whisper and  becomes increasingly noisy and astonishingly complex. Within the limitations of space at the Barbican,  the sound was positively overwhelming and mind-numbing at times, especially  when it came to the Sanctus but there is evidence that this was precisely the impact Verdi wished to create. The London Symphony Chorus was sorely tested and there were many times when only a few words of the liturgical text could be heard, but it was a heroic sound that they made. The intensity of the Dies Irae became more terrifyingly concentrated each time it was recapitulated and from the opening pianissimo right through to the Libera Me at the very end,  the London Symphony Chorus’s discipline was a credit to their coaching under director Joseph Cullen.

Sir Colin Davis’s calm control of the always excellent London Symphony Orchestra, the choir and soloists ensured a performance of pure drama and great depth allied to apparently unlimited reserves of shattering power and passion. Yet within this tumult,  he gave us a number of quieter more refined and lyrical moments that allowed for poignant reflection.

The work requires four soloists with big voices and even with Scotland’s Karen Cargill coming in as last-minute replacement for the previously announced Russian mezzo-soprano,  standing alongside two Americans and a Canadian she completed a formidable quartet. Ms Cargill has a powerful mezzo voce and was especially moving singing sang in duet with Christine Brewer’s soprano,  as in the Agnus Dei particularly. Ms Cargill did have the score but did not seem to need it while it was disappointing once again to see Ms Brewer with her head down and looking at her music for much of the time. I found her soprano had a certain fragility at times but she was at her best as the end of the work approached -  both in the Agnus Dei and also as she called out in the Libera Me. Even so, for me the top and bottom of her voice lacked the vocal heft of her colleagues.

The part for the bass soloist  in Verdi’s Requiem is not huge but John Relyea sang it with real conviction and suitably sepulchral tones, most notably at ‘Mors stupebit et natura’. The most impressive performance  however, was from American tenor Stuart Neill. On the platform and singing from memory he was a huge bearlike figure who  displayed a wonderfully secure and very loud voice. I can imagine mutterings from colleagues about a lack of refinement in his magnificent singing as the ‘Ingemisco’ was certainly somewhat stentorian but he was capable of the most surprising moments of delicacy such as at ‘Hostias et preces tibi’ in the Domine Jesu. Such a voice from someone so physically large is acceptable on the concert platform but his girth must limit his opportunities in stagings of opera: someone of his build would have trouble appearing in either heroic or romantic roles.

In duets, trios and when singing  all together, the four soloists were all very impressive; passages like ‘Domine Jesu Christi’ were incandescent and they made the finale very moving. This memorable performance – already a contender for concert of the year even though we only are at the start of January – thoroughly deserved the standing ovation received by all participants. It was also recorded and hopefully this deeply convincing Verdi Requiem will have an afterlife of its own as an LSO Live release sometime in the future.

Jim Pritchard


^{Back to Top                                                    Cumulative Index Page}