Fantasia Orchestra is carving out something special with this residency at Smith Square Hall. If you have not yet heard them, you should. It feels like one of those treasures quietly hiding in plain sight.
It was my first time at Smith Square Hall, and before a single note was played, I felt the charm of the place. The symmetry of the two opposing columns flanking the stage gave the room a sort of poised elegance, as though the building itself were preparing to listen. It turned out to be the perfect setting for Tom Fetherstonhaugh and Fantasia Orchestra’s Birdsong programme. This title already hinted at lightness, air, and the promise of something gently uplifting.
The evening began with Vivaldi’s Spring, and I could not help but smile at the thoughtfulness of that choice. Coming in from the sharp November cold, the music worked like a window suddenly thrown open. There was a sense of defrosting, of stepping into colour. It set the mood for a concert that moved freely across centuries while carrying a remarkably coherent airiness.
Unfortunately, Lucy Crowe could not make the performance, and the news of her absence had clearly travelled through the crowd. Yet what could have felt like a disruption instead brought a certain intensity to the atmosphere. The amazing soprano Elizabeth Watts stepped in with less than a day’s notice and did so with such poise that, instead of feeling underprepared, the whole stage seemed emotionally alert. There was a shared concentration, an honesty of sound. Somehow, this vulnerability suited the theme of the evening: a programme about birds, weather, fragility, and listening. Mozart’s Dove Sono from The Marriage of Figaro was shaped with real elegance. The subtle rubato felt completely organic, never drifting into exaggeration, and Elizabeth’s phrasing carried a soft ache that suited the aria’s longing perfectly. Strauss’s Spring from the Four Last Songs brought a different kind of tenderness, one with a searching, almost fragile edge. Knowing she had stepped in with less than a day’s notice made it even more affecting; there was sincerity in the uncertainty, and it worked in the context of the piece’s quiet optimism.
Among the orchestral works, Haydn’s Symphony no. 83 ‘The Hen’ was where I felt the room truly relax. It was playful, cheeky even, the humorous gestures landing neatly. It was also the moment when I noticed just how well the ensemble breathed together, even with a last-minute change.
The Messiaen arrangement was one of the other highlights. Without a voice, the harmonic landscape felt even more vivid, and the piccolo lines were almost weightless, bright little flecks darting over the dense orchestral texture.
The great discovery for me, though, was the London premiere of Blasio Kavuma’s I am the Sea. The score carried a contemporary edge, full of turbulence and quiet surges, and I found myself hearing the push and pull of tides in the dialogue between the four soloists. There was a complexity that felt deeply connected to the natural world. It was an intense, compelling piece, and I was grateful to encounter something new alongside so many familiar works.
The concert closed with Autumn Leaves, and the encore, Sherwin’s A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square, gently guided us back into the season awaiting outside. After the levity, the playfulness, and the sweep of the musical journey, this final turn felt graceful and grounding.
It was an absolutely lovely evening, the sort of concert that reminds you how much imagination and care the younger orchestras in London are bringing to the scene. Fantasia Orchestra is carving out something special with this residency at Smith Square Hall. If you have not yet heard them, you should. It feels like one of those treasures quietly hiding in plain sight.