Category: classical

REVIEW: Matilda Lloyd & Goldmund Quartet: ‘Salon Re-imagined’

Published on by rachelarmitage77Leave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

“accomplished, elegant musical journey from Bach to Gershwin”

A trumpet and string quartet is an unusual formation for a concert, but is the chosen vehicle for this concert inspired by the European salon concerts of the 18th and 19th centuries. As part of the Kings Place ‘Memory Unwrapped’ series, this performance is a collaboration between star trumpet soloist Matilda Lloyd and the Goldmund Quartet.

The programme notes tell us that we are to imagine ourselves in a musical salon, ‘a space where music meets conversation’ which is intended to give the concert ‘an intimate and relaxed feel’. However, beneath the hall’s cavernous ceiling and surrounded by airy wooden cladding, the concert possesses all the formal trappings of a staid classical concert, and much suspension of disbelief is required to conjure the intended atmosphere.

The concert opens within J.S. Bach’s trumpet concerto, which Lloyd performs on piccolo trumpet with rapid arpeggios and trills showcasing her virtuosic facility on the instrument, accompanied with light grandeur by the quartet. Al the players stand, enhancing the piece’s buoyant energy as each movement, even the Larghetto, dances along. Lloyd stands next to the quartet, playing towards them as though in conversation.

Taking handheld microphones, Lloyd and cellist Raphael Paratore, welcome us to a soirée in 18th-century Vienna, at the home of Marianna Martines, a building which also housed the young Joseph Haydn. The high point of the concert’s first half was Haydn’s trumpet concert, arguably the most famous work for the instrument. Lloyd’s rendition is confident though never brash, demonstrating exceptional poise and control. Dialled-in precision characterises each movement, resulting in an elegance which is impressive but lacks excitement, with the quartet not quite fulfilling the richness of the full orchestra that would typically accompany the work.

Closing the first half is a piece by Marianna Martines herself, one of two instances where the programme diverts from conventional, well-known works to showcase underperformed and lesser-known female composers. This short piece is an excerpt from La Tempesta, a florid work which is a treat to discover though I didn’t quite feel the turbulence of the titular storm.

In both acts, the Goldmund Quartet played a piece without trumpet, which were two of the most famous works for the formation: Haydn’s whimsical ‘Joke’ quartet and the second movement from Schubert’s heart-wrenching ‘Death and the Maiden’. In both, the quartet delivered a refined performance, though I found myself hoping they would at some point really let rip. Technical details such as intonation and phrasing were hard to fault, but choosing pieces which hold such canonical status within the repertoire invites scrutiny: for me Haydn’s joke felt more of a coy eyebrow raise than cause for laughter and the Schubert a touch too polite to really move me.

After the interval we were brought into the 19th century, into the Paris home of Pauline Viardot. Two pieces by Viardot sandwich a third by Gabriel Fauré, presented as though three movements of one piece. On B flat trumpet now, Lloyd’s sound is much warmer and more expressive. This trio is a highlight: three charming pieces full of lilting melodies and Romantic swells. The trumpet never overpowers the strings and here they sit as a quintet, playing as one ensemble.

The concert closed in the 20th century – we are told we are in the Roosevelt Club in New York – with George Gershwin’s Three Preludes (and the excellent choice of his ‘Someone to Watch Over Me as an encore). Dance rhythms from jazz, Brazilian and Spanish music inject verve into the concert, though still played with characteristic precision, and a whistling duet makes for an unexpectedly delightful interlude. The finale at last reaches the more foot-stomping energy I have been craving throughout.

Though we are told we are on a journey through the salon, the real narrative of the concert coheres around the trumpet and its stylistic evolution. Lloyd showcases the instrument’s full gamut of tone, colour and expression, from Bach’s high virtuoso and Haydn’s stately elegance to the warmth and liquidity of Romanticism and the playful muted sounds of jazz, executed throughout with confidence and technical prowess.

‘Salon re-imagined’ was performed on the 7th of February at Kings Place in London, as part of their concert series ‘Memory Unwrapped’.

REVIEW: Anna Clyne – Performance of DANCE with Cellist Inbal Segev

Published on by Antonia Constantin1 Comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

“A fearless start to the year that proved The National Youth Orchestra already plays with grown up confidence.”

I couldn’t have asked for a better way to begin the year than with the National Youth Orchestra at the Barbican. This was my first concert of 2026, and from the opening minutes it felt like a clean reset: ambitious, unapologetically demanding, and in a way risky. And then there was the  thrill about knowing that what you are hearing is the result of barely a week’s work together. Most of us were still negotiating leftover chocolate and email inboxes at that point while those very talented musicians were building a full orchestral language from scratch and offering it up in public.

The programme, titled Shimmer, avoided any sense of post-holiday comfort listening. Instead, it leaned into heat, glare and movement, drawing heavily on imagined Spanish soundworlds filtered through French sensibilities. Debussy’s Ibéria opened the evening with fragmented rhythms, hazy colours, gestures that appear and dissolve before you can grasp them. Under Alexandre Bloch’s direction, the orchestra felt impressively contained for its size. There were moments where the texture thickened almost too much,  but even then the playing retained a sense of intent rather than excess.


Ravel’s Rapsodie espagnole followed, and here the orchestra seemed to relax into the music’s theatricality. The final movement, in particular, felt to me like it burst into life: brass was biting, woodwinds were flashing upwards, rhythms were into focus. 


But for me the concert truly caught fire in the contemporary works. Karim Al-Zand’s City Scenes delivered a kind of neon confidence,  jazzy,  together with streetwise gestures in the orchestra. The energy felt modern without trying too hard to prove it, playful but in the sane time constructed with sharpness.  The contrast with Anna Clyne’s DANCE brought balance. With cellist Inbal Segev at its centre, the piece pushed the audience through  a series of emotional transformations. One moment the orchestra offered an almost baroque sound, the next it slipped into something closer to jazz or klezmer. The dialogue between soloist and ensemble was alive and flexible, and Segev’s presence grounded the piece with warmth and authority.


There were lighter touches too like the Autumn Leaves that spotlighted bassoon and tuba in ways that felt both cheeky and affectionate, and a final encore that tipped fully into joy. By the end, what remaind was not just technical accomplishment but a sense of possibility. Hearing an orchestra at the very start of its journey, still forming its collective voice, is rare. Hearing it sound this confident so early on is rarer still.


If this was the National Youth Orchestra’s opening statement for the year, it was a bold one. I left the Barbican energised,  stunned, and very glad that this was how my musical calendar began.

Image Credit: Jen Long

REVIEW: Home Alone

Published on by Miles Morgan1 Comment

Rating: 5 out of 5.

“A joyous, resonant, and beautifully executed event; the perfect way to begin the Christmas season.”

Watching ‘Home Alone’ with a live orchestra at the Royal Albert Hall transforms a beloved Christmas classic into an unforgettable cinematic celebration. The grandeur of the Hall, combined with the warmth of John Williams’ iconic score performed live, elevates the film far beyond the nostalgia of yearly rewatching.

From the moment the Royal Philharmonic Concert Orchestra began the overture, it was clear that this was not simply a screening – it was a festive event in its own right. Williams’ music is so central to the movie’s charm and it emerges with astonishing clarity when performed by a full ensemble. Nuances that often sit quietly in the background burst into focus. Delicate strings that underscore Kevin’s wonder, the playful woodwinds during his mischievous traps, and the sweeping choral moments that infuse the film with emotional weight.

The synchronization between the musicians and the screen was impeccable. Action cues landed perfectly with the chaos on screen, and comedic beats felt sharper and more vivid thanks to the live accompaniment. The orchestra added depth and dynamism, making familiar scenes such as the frantic airport dash to Kevin’s final showdown with the Wet Bandits feel unexpectedly fresh.

The Royal Albert Hall itself contributes significantly to the experience. Its acoustics lend a richness to the score that feels almost cinematic in its own right, and the festive atmosphere in the venue, from the decorated foyers to the excited patrons filling the seats, amplifies the seasonal spirit. It strikes a successful balance between high-calibre musical performance and joyful, accessible entertainment.

Perhaps the most powerful moment comes near the film’s climax, when the choir’s voices swell during ‘Somewhere in My Memory.’ Hearing this live in a space as resonant as the Royal Albert Hall is genuinely moving. It is a reminder of how expertly the film blends humour, heart and music and why so many people rewatch it year after year.

‘Home Alone in Concert’ is more than a nostalgic novelty. It is a reminder of the enduring impact of a great score, and of how live performance can breathe new life into a classic. Whether you are a lifelong fan of the movie or introducing it to younger viewers for the first time, this is a festive experience that delights across generations.

REVIEW: The Sixteen: Handel’s Messiah

Published on by fbalchinLeave a comment

Rating: 5 out of 5.

“A Christmas choral treat so divine you’ll be left praying for an encore”

Handel was at heart always a London boy. He rented in Soho in the latter part of his life, fundraised relentlessly for the Foundling Hospital and sought social mobility from his humble roots like the rest of Middle England. His seminal work Messiah needs no introduction; safe in the knowledge its heavenly creation has continued to awe audiences since its 1742 immaculate conception. How do you review a 280 year old piece and say something new? The music has not changed too much since Handel’s initial edits, the bible verses remain ecclesiastically bombastic since King James had them translated 400 years ago. Even the venue, a James Gibbs 1726 baroque masterpiece remains as glitteringly gilded as intended. 

What is new, however, is the passion of the piece. Presented by Harry Christophers’ The Sixteen, comprising of a sensational chamber choir and orchestra with several soloists, Messiah is less a linear narrative and more a sonic adoration of The Lord. Using direct excerpts from the Bible, the crystal clear diction of the singers allows every audience member to ascend to a higher plane. Dressed in their best white tie and tails, formal gowns and festive sparkle, the concert is an absolute Christmas delight. The sense of occasion brought by the performance was palpable and you knew you were witnessing something special. I was particularly impressed by alto Hugh Cutting, whose picture is sure to be found in the Book of Revelations because he was that impressive and expressive in his cadence, clarity and conviction of his arias. He reminded me of how I imagine Mozart behaved at concerts- skilful, confident and refreshingly youthful. 

I must confess, for my sins I have never been to St Martin in the Fields, never listened to Messiah fully before, never properly paid attention to the arrangement of the orchestration. But when I heard “O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law” it’s hard not to feel emotional- the line hits hard today as when it was written. The fire and brimstone nature of the divine proceedings adds such a sense of drama and panache. Even if you knew nothing about Christianity, cared little for religious veneration, it would be impossible to leave this performance unmoved. The Sixteen’s choir sing with such perfect harmonies, making full use of the excellent acoustics of the venue. Though you may feel it is not a set design in the traditional sense it is of course blessed by a terrific modern backdrop. The East Wing window over the nave, looming beautifully over the orchestra is a 2008 modern art piece by Iranian artist Shirazeh Houshiary. Her simple lined window was inspired by the Veil of Veronica by Francisco de Zubarán; though its warp and weft curves reminded me visually of the warping in a black hole. I suppose the link with Messiah to me is the power of God in the infinite cosmos, bending it to His will.

Make no mistake, The Sixteen’s Messiah is an expertly performed show, presenting the music itself as divine. It is such a treat to listen to in its entirety (wait for that famous Hallelujah crescendo- stunning) and despite the audience being almost exclusively elderly, I absolutely do recommend this to all ages as a festive family night out. This is helped by the vitality of the performers, contrasting design features of the venue, and the pomp and ceremony only a Handel oratorio can bring.

REVIEW: Fantasia Orchestra

Published on by Antonia ConstantinLeave a comment

Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

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.

REVIEW: Seong-Jin Cho: Artist Portrait

Published on by ayoungishperspective1Leave a comment

Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

An evening of exciting voices and masterful performances

LSO Future, presented at the grandiose Barbican Hall, is a concert that presents a bold and imaginative vision for contemporary music. As part of the K-Music Festival 2025 and the Seong-Jin Cho Artist Portrait, it features a new piano concerto by Donghoon Shin—written especially for the pianist—alongside works by other emerging artists. Conducted by Maxime Pascal, the concert presents a carefully curated constellation of new and existing works.

The first piece, “gilufim” by Omri Kochavi, opens the concert with a delightful beginning. It starts with a tonal foundation, using the marimba to set a lovely atmosphere, before blending in atonality to create a wondrous, imaginary soundscape.

The second piece, “Sly” by Sasha Scott, showcases the composer’s significant potential as a new talent. It presents an intriguing soundscape rather than conventional “music,” successfully building an atmospheric landscape through its untraditional use of strings from the very start. The soundscape then escalates into a climactic development which, while feeling like a slight loss of focus into unbalanced sounds, provides a stark contrast to the initial dreamlike, feverish vibe.

Following these shorter pieces, Donghoon Shin’s Piano Concerto immediately demonstrates his masterful command of composition. True to his description, the work is “a conversation between two extremes.” It opens with unsettled, almost ambient sounds, creating a tension as if something is waiting to happen—an atmosphere soon contrasted by the introduction of sparkly timbres. The interplay between strings and percussion later gives the piece an almost Stravinsky-like quality, and when the piano enters, it immediately establishes a conversational relationship with the orchestra before gradually taking center stage and evolving into a full-fledged solo.

Seong Jin Cho, known for his impeccable control, proves his mastery once again from his first solo notes, taking the audiences into another realm of space and time. The music briefly shifts to a near-classical style, followed by rapid transitions between moods. As a piece written especially for him, the composer included a substantial solo for Cho to showcase his virtuosity and wow the audience with his technique. The solo then slides into quieter, more intimate territory. Continuing this sentiment, the second movement unfolds like a silent march, combining diverse sonic elements. Finally, the third movement emerges as a Ligeti-esque passage—a carnival of sounds and a celebration. Donghoon Shin shows his ability to compose music that speaks a universal and evocative language, proving that his future works for piano are worth highly anticipated. As a concert that showcases the mastery of established musicians while elevating new talents, the first half concludes as a definitive success.

The concert’s second half featured a work by Pierre Boulez. As a pivotal figure in modern composition, his piece has an international scope, incorporating instruments from around the world. Yet, even for today’s audience, his work—lacking traditional progression and conventional structure—remains challenging and perhaps overly conceptual.

The LSO has supported young and emerging talents for decades. As the UK’s most established orchestra, the future iterations of LSO to bring more exciting new voices into the contemporary music landscape is worth keeping an eye for.

REVIEW: Moving Pictures

Published on by Evelina BlackLeave a comment

Rating: 5 out of 5.

“An atmospheric and evocative celebration of some of the very best 21st-century film scores.”

The BBC Philharmonic Orchestra’s Moving Pictures at The Bridgewater Hall was an atmospheric and evocative celebration of some of the very best 21st-century film scores.

As a big fan of film and live music I knew Moving Pictures wasn’t one to miss. The programme promised an “all-killer, no-filler set” and they undoubtedly delivered. The audience were taken on a brilliantly curated journey through genres and moods from intense otherworldly soundscapes to romantic and sensitive themes.

Robert Ames led the orchestra with incredible skill and the decision to have Ali Plumb presenting the scores was a perfect one. He brought useful information, context, and fun every time he entered the stage, and ensured that even if you hadn’t seen every film featured, you still felt included in the experience.

One of my favourite things about the BBC Philharmonic is how they push boundaries. That innovation was on full display here, with a spinning bike wheel used for percussive effects and the rhythmic sounds of a typewriter being used in Dario Marianelli’s ‘Briony’ for Atonement (2007). It was these unexpected instruments that served as a reminder of how creative film scoring can be. As is characteristic of the BBC Philharmonic, the orchestra stretched the possibilities of sound and expression, inviting us to reconsider what music is capable of and how it shapes emotion. Film music proved to be the perfect medium for that mission, highlighting just how essential the score is to the cinematic experience.

I could very easily (and happily) talk at length about every single piece performed but instead, I encourage you to tune in to the recorded performance on BBC Radio 3. So, sticking to the film theme and in true Letterboxd fashion, here are my top four picks from the evening: 

Interstellar (2014) – Hans Zimmer

Hearing one of Zimmer’s most iconic scores live was a transcendent experience, especially with the Bridgewater Hall organ, played by Neil Taylor, creating so much power and depth. Reportedly, Zimmer composed a piece for the organ in an attempt to capture his experience of parenthood without knowing that Christopher Nolan planned to explore that idea through astronauts travelling far from home.  The result is music that feels emotionally intimate and vastly expansive, just like the film, serving as a reminder of just why Hans Zimmer is so legendary. 

Moon (2009) – Clint Mansell

This was the only film on the programme I hadn’t seen but now it’s gone straight to the top of my watchlist from the music alone. Mysterious, seductive, and tinged with isolation, it balances a melancholy piano with quiet strings and surges of electronica. The programme notes that the piano reflects the fragility of the protagonist’s (Sam Rockwell) identity as he yearns to return to the human world.  The electric guitar part, played by Peter Willmott, was captivating. 

There Will Be Blood (2007) – Jonny Greenwood

As a devoted Paul Thomas Anderson fan, I was very happy to see this film included and even happier upon hearing the score live. This was Jonny Greenwood’s first feature-film score and it is bold, unsettling, and wildly expressive. Written predominantly for strings, it captures greed, ambition, and the psychological corruption at the film’s core. During the performance, it felt like insatiable power and evil was oozing directly from the strings and straight into the audience. 

Poor Things (2023) – Jerskin Fendrix

This was the perfect end to the concert: strange, lively, and completely original. Poor Things was the first film for which Yorgos Lanthimos did not rely on source music, instead beginning what is now a continued relationship with Jerskin Fendrix. It was also Fendrix’s first time scoring a film, and his colourful, experimental work earned him an Oscar nomination. The harp, played beautifully by Anwen Mai Thomas, added bursts of playful energy to the score’s weird and whimsical world that Bella Baxter (Emma Stone) inhabits. It was an exciting finale that celebrated risk-taking and showcased how boldly film music continues to evolve.

Overall, Moving Pictures was a cinematic adventure through sound, reminding us of the power of film scores to define how we see, feel, and remember cinema.

REVIEW: Shaker Loops

Published on by Seth Connor-FullwoodLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

“Manchester Collective put on a very good show and are impressive performers”

The staging for the Manchester Collective’s performance of John Adams’ ‘Shaker Loops’ at the RNCM is very simple. Seven lights stand in a semi-circle around the collective, with eight more above them, all orange or yellow and reinforced by a cloud from the haze machine behind the performers.

In the first half of the performance, Manchester Collective play three other pieces: Dobrinka Tabakova’s ‘Such Different Paths’, Kaija Saariaho’s ‘Terra Memoria’, and a composition by Rakhi Singh, ‘Veni Creator Spiritus’.

These opening pieces are all good, and of course played beautifully, but each one seems to fizzle out by the end, despite good moments. Furthermore, the speeches and introductions between them, despite being interesting and important, did take me out of the performance and probably could have been placed elsewhere for a bigger impact.

I particularly enjoyed the transitions between different passages and sections in ‘Such Different Paths’, along with the harmonies and interplay between the seven players. I found it easy to get lost in all the different layers, picking out different instruments and focusing on how they related to each other. 

The second piece, a pizzicato-filled ode to the dead, gradually builds up. The overhead lights are now pink, creating a softer atmosphere. The textures are more minimal, with only four members of the collective onstage. Instead of the harmonies of the first, ‘Terra Memoria’ relies on changing dynamics, with urgent moments played against more tender ones.

Between the second and third pieces, thanks to a request from a helpful audience member, the haze machine is turned off because of all the noise it was making. ‘Veni Creator Spiritus’ is based around a Latin hymn, and swells and drones accordingly and appropriately. 16 Manchester Collective performers join for this one, some of them singing as well as playing their instruments, giving it a complex texture similar to the opening piece.

‘Shaker Loops’ is easily the best piece of the four. It’s like listening to all of the best parts of the pieces from the first half, without any of the weaker moments. Its mutating rhythms are captivating and exciting, and it’s the only piece with a strong ending. All 16 players perform impressively tightly throughout. Their interactions and harmonies are beautiful. Christ Bryan’s poetry is evocative and has a strong sense of mood and place, taking listeners on a journey from industrial smog and darkness to sunlight. If anything, he’s underused. His poetry works really well with the music, and I could have listened for hours. The delivery of his final line, ‘Where beameth forever a beautiful day’, with the end of ‘Shaker Loops’, is just great.

REVIEW: Royal Albert Hall Classical Coffee Mornings – Chantefable Duo “From Hillside Gardens”

Published on by Zoë PinnellLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

“A wonderful performance, easing us gently into the new season and reminding us to live in the present a little more.”

Presenting their gentle ode to the seasons to the audience of the Royal Albert Hall’s Classical Coffee Mornings, the Chantefable Duo are soprano vocalist Mariana Rodrigues and keyboardist Andrew Cowie. ‘Chantefable’ is a French literary tradition in which a story is told through a blend of sung verse and recited prose. Rodrigues and Cowie give us their interpretation of this through a thoughtful selection of poetry and classical song, each piece conveying a sense of the seasons passing. Performed in the lovely Elgar Room of the Royal Albert Hall (with a coffee and pastry included in the ticket!), this Classical Coffee Morning is a delightful way to spend a Sunday. 

Both students of the Royal College of Music, the two musicians are bursting with talent and passion for their art, an energy that comes through as they perform. Rodrigues’ voice is beautiful, swelling with emotion when the song calls for it, and drawing out the humour in the poetry she performs with ease. The most distinctive aspect of this performance is that the spoken word is accompanied by Cowie’s entirely improvised music, making the concert completely unique and never to be seen again. This gave an immediacy to the performance that brought me into the present moment; this to me felt symbolic of the changing seasons and the feeling of time passing. 

Cowie’s performance is wonderful, but his skill really does shine when he improvises. He manages to perfectly match the tone of each spoken word, slow and thoughtful in the more pensive, jaunty and comical in those more humorous. However, it wasn’t always possible to understand the words Rodrigues was singing; I realise this is to an extent because of the vowel modification necessary to sound as beautiful as she did (and she really did!), but it did sometimes hinder any comprehension of a narrative being told with the music, which is somewhat the point of a chantefable. 

The music includes classical repertoire mostly taken from the 19th and early 20th century, with composers from Britten and Elgar to Quilter and Lehmann. The songs complement the poems which include Dickinson, Hardy and Betjeman to name just a few. You can feel that every piece has been chosen with a great deal of thought and consideration, each in keeping with the running theme of nature and seasonal change. A stand-out song was ‘There are fairies at the bottom of our garden’, composed by Lehmann. Rodrigues performed this spectacularly; the whole room listened with rapture as she proclaimed herself the fairy queen (and I can say I honestly believed her!). I also loved how McCaig’s poems on frogs framed the chantefable: both Cowie and Rodrigues conveyed the humour and joy in these poems perfectly. However, I would have liked a greater variation in the music played as the songs at moments felt a bit monotonous, possibly a result of much of the music being taken from the same time period. 

The Chantefable Duo gave a wonderful performance, easing us gently into the new season and reminding us to live in the present a little more. I would certainly see them again given the chance, and would recommend it to anyone else with a love of words and music, and a couple of hours to spare on a Sunday morning.

REVIEW: BBC Proms: Grieg Piano Concerto and Bliss’s The Beatitudes

Published on by Ke MengLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

“The live experience of Bliss’s The Beatitudes is nothing but full of awe”

On the first day of the TFL strike, Sunday 7 September 2025, this night’s BBC Proms opened with Ruth Gipps’s Death on the Pale Horse, followed by Grieg’s Piano Concerto (soloist: Lukas Sternath) and, after the interval, Sir Arthur Bliss’s The Beatitudes (soprano: Elizabeth Watts; tenor: Laurence Kilsby). Written in 1943, Gipps’s tone poem responds directly to a William Blake illustration of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. The brass section takes centre stage, with the rest of the orchestra providing a responsive, and dialogical texture. In general, this rendition of *Death on the Pale Horse* feels rather pastoral and lyrical. 

Austrian pianist Lukas Sternath made his Proms debut by giving us Grieg’s Piano Concerto. What makes Grieg’s Piano Concerto so fascinating is that it feels like a connecting point within the Romantic era. It may not be the most ground-breaking, nor the summit of pianistic achievement, but rather something as becoming, one foot in the past, possibly Schumann, and another toward the future, Tchaikovsky, and Grieg his own. If I were an audience member of the 1860s, I would have been excited by such uncertainty. 

Such qualities of transition also leave ample room for wide interpretations both temporally and geographically. However, I remain uncertain where Sternath’s interpretation situates itself. His opening felt overtly dramatic, while the cadenza leaned towards the showy and self-conscious, perhaps conductor Sakari Oramo also prefers such theatrical rendition.  There was also a trait of slowness which I also recognised in his Salzburg performance of Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 20 in 2024. Such combination, slow but dramatic, lightweight but self-aware, presented itself as both intriguing and perplexing. 

My first live experience of Bliss’s The Beatitudes is nothing but full of awe. Exceeding much of my expectation, Bliss’s music struck me as at the same time elegant yet powerful, dramatic and deeply emotional. Such conflict quality is consistently interwoven into the very fabric of this cantata. Elizabeth Watts illuminated the night as the soprano with her mellow and translucent tone delivered with a remarkable sense of ease and natural release. This quality perfectly matched the serene elegance of harp, shaping stark contrast with the voices of the mob. 

The BBC Symphony Chorus’s performance was equally striking, as they successfully mastered not only the brutality of the mob, but also the hushed harmony with restraint and transparent texture- two poles in Bliss’s writing that together architects a majestic piece with sweeping, stormy contrasts. Commissioned for the new Coventry Cathedral in 1962 together with Britten’s War Requiem, The Beatitudes offers the other side of coin that yearns for peace and prosperity. Strangely, I didn’t feel The Beatitudes that “modern”, especially compared to Britten who often uses music to reflect human psychology. Instead, The Beatitudes reminded me more of the late Romantic tradition that resonates with Vaughan Williams, teacher of Gipps. Oramo’s conducting of the BBC Symphony Orchestra felt exceptionally powerful and passionate, imbued with a trait of theatricality that heightened the drama of Bliss’s score.