A hauntingly intimate evening that journeyed from Elgar’s gentle warmth, through the
séance‑like anguish of The Immortal, to the majestic sweep of Sibelius’s Second
Symphony
The Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra’s concert on Thursday 26 th March 2026 offered an evening of vivid contrasts, anchored by the presence of Artist in Residence Mark Simpson. Under the poised direction of conductor Daniela Candillari, the programme moved from Elgar’s evergreen Serenade for Strings through the supernatural world of Simpson’s The Immortal to the expansive sweep of Sibelius’s Second Symphony, all within the setting of Liverpool Philharmonic Hall. The hall itself felt both tall and close, with glowing backlights and a clear, unfussy stage that
drew focus entirely onto the performers. The audience was mostly older, with only a
scattering of empty seats, which contributed to a reflective, attentive atmosphere making the quieter moments feel almost private. Elgar’s Serenade for Strings opened the concert as a gentle prelude. The orchestra shaped the opening movement with a subtle, almost storybook sense of adventure, as if inviting listeners into a journey rather than announcing itself with grandeur. A particularly expressive cellist became a quiet focal point, her visible engagement clearly charmed the audience as her lines adding depth and humanity to Elgar’s flowing textures. The music’s warmth and ease set an affectionate tone, a clear contrast to what was to come.
The centrepiece of the first half, Simpson’s The Immortal, arrived with a spoken introduction from the composer that proved essential. He described the work as an exploration of a man tormented by the clash between religious faith, Darwinism, bereavement and an obsessive turn towards séances, and the performance bore that psychological burden in full. From the outset, intimate strings established an uneasy calm before panic crept in through tremulous violins and dark, heavy textures. The sound world felt immediately tense, more akin to a staged haunting than a traditional choral-orchestral work.
Candillari controlled the buildup of tension, allowing layers of sound- panicked violins,
spectral vocal lines, and dense harmonies to accumulate without ever tipping into
incoherence. The lead voice was powerful and focused, riding above the orchestral turmoil with remarkable control, while the backing ensemble added eerie, ritualistic colour. Subtitles were invaluable in following the text, revealing a narrative of anguish and spiritual fragmentation that might otherwise have been overwhelming.
Visually, the piece was underscored by shifting backlighting that moved from warm glows to stark, seance-like silhouettes, reinforcing the sense of being drawn into a world of old horror and swampy supernatural atmosphere. At times the music felt almost mad and chaotic- a deliberate expression of inner torment rather than mere noise- and some listeners found it unsettling, even unlikeable. Yet the work maintained a gripping, edge-of-the-seat energy throughout, and when the final note released the accumulated tension, the applause was long and heartfelt.
After the interval, Sibelius’s Symphony No. 2 provided the evening’s final arc, swelling “like a mighty river” as promised in the programme, and crowned with its unforgettable closing theme. The opening had a pixie hollow-esq charm that was magical, exploratory, almost like stepping into an enchanted forest, before gradually broadening into something more monumental. Flutes and oboes played a prominent role in playful call-and-response figures with the rest of the orchestra, lending the early movements a light, airy character.
The warm, consistent lighting kept the visual world grounded and open, even as the music grew more turbulent. By the time the famous final theme arrived, the effect was undeniably majestic, reminiscent of a sweeping cinematic or even Disney-esque opening, but charged with Sibelius’s distinctive national and emotional weight.
Taken as a whole, the evening traced a compelling journey: from Elgar’s tender serenity,
through the haunted psychological landscape of The Immortal, to the confident, river-like surge of Sibelius’s Second Symphony. Candillari and the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra demonstrated impressive versatility and emotional range, offering a night that moved from the intimate to the immense, and from anguish to something close to catharsis.
