Last year I reviewed a performance of Julian Anderson’s
Imagin’d Corners, his first completed work for the CBSO during
his tenure as composer in association and a work that the CBSO subsequently
took on tour to considerable acclaim, including the 2002 Proms. The
Crazed Moon pre-dates Imagin’d Corners by some four years
and takes its title from W. B. Yeats, "the moon, crazed through
much childbirth/ staggering through the sky". Although very different
in character and structure both works share a common opening feature,
namely the use of off stage instruments, in Imagin’d Corners
the concertante horn group and in The Crazed Moon three trumpets
whose distant fanfares emphasise the notes G and E flat, pitches that
have an anchoring function throughout the piece. Anderson is a master
at drawing the listener into his sound world as is the case here, the
predominantly sombre mood of the work stemming from its dedication to
a composer friend, Graeme Smith, who died suddenly at the premature
age of twenty four and unfolding through its early stages before the
material becomes more disjointed but always underpinned by the opening
pitches of G and E flat. It would be difficult not to be convinced by
Oramo’s committed and persuasive reading of the work although it was
Imagin’d Corners that made the more striking impression on me
at a first hearing.
Lars Vogt was a sparkling soloist from the opening
bars of Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G major, aided by fine individual
contributions from the orchestra (particular praise here for principal
trumpet Jonathan Holland). Oramo seemed determined to bring out every
contrast of the grotesque and the comic in Ravel’s typically brilliant
orchestration whilst Vogt’s strikingly clear articulation ensured that
there was no detail unheard in the solo part. The central Adagio assai
was no less captivating, Vogt enthralling with playing of real delicacy
aided by the crystal clear acoustic of the hall. If a couple of the
solo orchestral entries in the final Presto could have been a little
more sharply characterised the mood as a whole was finely captured in
the breathless dash to the conclusion.
Interestingly I found myself jotting "Rattlesque"
in my notebook on a couple of occasions during the performance of Berlioz’s
Symphonie Fantastique that occupied the second half of the concert.
Conducting without a score Oramo certainly showed the odd gestural similarity
to his predecessor but more importantly attacked the music with an enthusiasm
that grew more infectious as the performance progressed, showing a natural
affinity for Berlioz’s idiosyncratic turn of phrase and melody and clearly
seeking to draw to the listener’s attention every dynamic and textural
contrast in the composer’s imaginative scoring. If there was a disappointment
it was in March to the Scaffold, highly effective, promising
and finely played in the stopped horns at the opening but somehow failing
to ignite in the blazing march itself. Elsewhere the strings managed
to combine supreme elegance with playing of extrovert confidence in
the Rêveries and Passions of the opening movement whilst the sense
of expectant mystery at the opening of Un bal was palpable. The
beautifully evoked summer evening in the country that followed again
allowed the strings to shine, although not without a telling contribution
from oboe and cor anglais at the opening and it was the woodwind possibly
more so than the brass that made the final Songe d’une nuit de Sabbat
so memorable, the air thick with menace in the Dies Irae with stunning
playing vividly evoking Berlioz’s wailing and stamping ghosts and ghouls.
Edge of the seat stuff and a performance that both orchestra and conductor
clearly enjoyed as much as the audience.
Christopher Thomas.