Tag: classical concert

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Duo Eunioa

Published on by Tabitha JamesLeave a comment

We sat down with Duo Eunioa for a quick chat about their upcoming performances at the Royal Albert Hall. For ticketing and info, please find here and here.

How do poetry and visual art shape the way you listen to each other as a duo, beyond simply influencing repertoire choices?

All art reshapes how we perceive the world, so it inevitably reshapes how we listen to one another. Poetry and visual art don’t just influence our repertoire choices; they shape the quality of our attention. We are both very visual thinkers, and when discovering new music, it often sparks vivid inner imagery (colours, landscapes, gestures…) which we share as a way of finding a shared emotional language. Instead of discussing only dynamics or articulation, we might ask: does this feel like shadow or light? If this melody was a person, how or who would they be? Poetry deepens that dialogue further. We reflect on why certain words move us so profoundly, and then ask how we can create an equally powerful emotional resonance through sound alone.

What does the idea of “eunoia” — beautiful thinking — mean to you in the context of a live performance?

Although eunoia (from ancient Greek) literally translates as “beautiful thinking,” for us it speaks more deeply of connection, about the harmony that arises when people meet with openness and empathy. In performance, it becomes an intention. We aim to create a space where listeners feel safe to experience the music in their own way, and where their reflections, emotions and imagery are welcomed rather than prescribed. It is about inviting presence in a world that so often encourages distraction, and encouraging connection: to ourselves, to one another, and to the moment we are sharing. And for us on stage, it also means granting each other the freedom to be fully authentic: to take risks, to listen generously, and to explore our creativity without fear.

In an intimate morning setting like the Elgar Room, how does the audience’s presence subtly alter your musical dialogue?

Intimate venues have always felt like home to us. In a smaller space, something softens, for performers and listeners alike. The atmosphere becomes less formal, less performative, and more human. We sense breathing, stillness, even subtle shifts in attention, and that awareness inevitably shapes how we play. It feels less like presenting something to an audience and more like experiencing something with them. As performers, we feel that the intimacy of a setting like the Elgar Room invites authenticity. When people feel at ease, the musical dialogue becomes more honest, spontaneous, and connected.

How do you balance inviting close, reflective listening while still allowing space for spontaneity and surprise in performance?

Playing together for five years has given us something invaluable: trust born of time shared. That shared history means we often anticipate one another instinctively. There are moments in rehearsal when one of us does something unexpectedly, and the other anticipates it, as if the thought had already been shared. Because we know each other so deeply, we can take risks safely. With repertoire that has grown familiar over the years, we feel free to play and reshape it differently each time. With new works, there is the thrill of discovery, especially as we’re drawn to music that is rarely performed, unrecorded, or that has been arranged by us. Without a blueprint to follow, we create from a “blank canvas”. Throughout it all, close, reflective listening remains our anchor, the foundation that allows spontaneity to flourish.

 What considerations go into shaping a relaxed performance so it remains artistically rich while being genuinely accessible?

For us, “relaxed” never means simplified; it means removing the fear of a “wrong” reaction. We want audiences to know they can move, respond and experience the music in ways that feel natural to them. By welcoming that freedom, we honour the diversity of how people listen and engage. Our work in community settings, from schools to dementia care homes and mental health facilities, has deeply shaped this approach. It has taught us to be adaptable and attentive, sometimes incorporating interactive elements, while still preserving the artistic integrity of the programme. Our spoken introductions remain central in all our performances, relaxed or not, offering context and invitation rather than instruction. We are naturally drawn to shorter pieces rich in imagery and atmosphere, which transcend background or training. In our experience, imagination is universal.

 As emerging artists, how do you see interdisciplinary inspiration helping redefine what a classical concert experience can be?

We love drawing inspiration from other disciplines, often designing performances and workshops that weave music with visual art, poetry, and mindfulness. These interdisciplinary elements enrich the experience, opening doors to imagination and emotional reflection. Yet, we are acutely aware of living in a world overflowing with constant input and distraction. Our goal is to slow down, offering audiences the chance to disconnect and be fully present. That’s why we are careful not to overwhelm the music with other forms. Music alone has a profound ability to reach the depths of the soul, and for that, full immersion is essential. Interdisciplinary inspiration becomes a support, not a distraction, guiding the listener toward presence, connection, and the transformative power of sound.

REVIEW: White Nights

Published on by nickjkehoeLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

“A uniquely varied evening of classical music, with a little something for everyone”

Opening with Weinberg’s Rhapsody on Moladavian Themes is a bold choice but one that fits wonderfully with what is to come, providing us with . The swelling, almost arabesque, runs on strings and wind give way at intervals to the bombastic brass and percussion sections, winding back and forth effortlessly. As always the Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra perform seamlessly together, a well oiled machine sliding through the movements with ease. This may only be a short piece – not much longer than twelve minutes – but serves as an excellent start to the evening’s entertainment. 

Next comes a suite of pieces by Shostakovich, including the renowned Waltz no.2, which serves to underline the variety of the pieces performed tonight: not only are there distinctions drawn between the different works but also within the pieces themselves – intra-textually, if you will. With various dances, waltzes and a polka, the Suite for a Variety Orchestra is an excellent opportunity for the orchestra to demonstrate their versatility. Conductor Vasily Petrenko is a delight to watch work throughout, but outdoes himself with lively, performative flourishes and a degree of comfort and lightheartedness that truly invites the audience to involve themselves in the music. The varied and irreverent Suite, as with all of tonight’s pieces, lilts back and forth between the sedate, if forceful, dances and waltzes, and the strident, vivacious Polka and Finale and will keep anyone not familiar with the tunes guessing the whole time. 

Lastly is the longest piece of the evening in Tchaikovsky’s Symphony no.4, comprised of four distinct movements. This second half also features the largest selection of instruments of any tonight and you can really tell. There are soft, mellifluous runs, yes – especially throughout the second movement Andantino in modo di canzona – but these are interspersed with walls of sound almost reminiscent of sections from Weinberg earlier. The force of the extra instruments does not go unappreciated however, and results in these sections forming the musical equivalent of a gut-punch: immediately attention-grabbing and astounding. Personally, I find some of these movements can begin to feel somewhat repetitive, featuring similar melodies again and again. When they are so competently performed, however, there is almost a unique joy in the repetition, the minute inflections keeping attention the whole time.

This evening of evening music truly is a unique collection and display of variety in classical music and, as always, a phenomenal display of the Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra’s capability and competence.

REVIEW: BBC Philharmonic Orchestra at Bridgewater Hall

Published on by Maria Mădălina IfrimLeave a comment

Rating: 5 out of 5.

interesting soundscape linked be grandeur

The BBC Philharmonic Orchestra, under the graceful baton of John Storgårds, delivered an evening of thrilling contrasts, from the hypnotic textures of Per Nørgård to the heroic grandeur of Beethoven and the enigmatic beauty of Sibelius.

Per Nørgård – Symphony No. 8

The concert opened with Nørgård’s Symphony No. 8, a piece that felt like stepping into unfamiliar, shifting waters. The symphony began with a trippy, textured soundscape where harmonies emerged and dissolved unpredictably, keeping the audience on edge. A particularly impressive harp section shimmered through the complex layers, adding to the sense of fluidity.

Nørgård’s signature fractal-like development unfolded in river-like waves, youthful in its energy yet daunting in its unpredictability. The symphony’s opening patterns—falling, rising, interweaving at different speeds—set the stage for a fascinating journey. The second section took an unexpected turn, evoking the playful motif of “Three Blind Mice,” while the third hinted at galloping races or a frenzied chase. The finale, a cacophony of percussion and sound, was both chaotic and haunting—a mesmerizing close to an intricate work.

Ludwig van Beethoven – Piano Concerto No. 5, ‘Emperor’

From the moment the opening chords rang out, Beethoven’s Emperor Concerto commanded attention. The grandeur of the opening movement contrasted beautifully with the second movement’s delicate, flowing piano passages. Paul Lewis, at the helm of the solo part, made the intricate lines seem effortless, his playing almost floating above the orchestra.

Lewis balanced the concerto’s heroic and lyrical aspects with precision, never overindulging in its drama yet fully embracing its emotional arc. The final movement carried a sense of triumph, only to conclude with an abrupt yet fitting ending, leaving no doubt as to why this concerto remains one of Beethoven’s greatest.

Jean Sibelius – Symphony No. 3 in C major

Closing the program was Sibelius’ Symphony No. 3, a work of contrasts—low and brilliant, playful yet solemn. At times, the music felt like a game of hide and seek, shifting between jovial themes and introspective moments. The orchestra brought fresh life to the harmonies, making them feel strikingly new despite their classical grounding.

Some passages proved elusive at first hearing, their intricate layers difficult to grasp immediately. Yet, the symphony’s driving energy and the orchestra’s dynamic interpretation ensured an engaging listening experience, culminating in a performance that felt both refined and refreshingly modern.

Under Storgårds’ direction, the BBC Philharmonic once again showcased its mastery, delivering a program that balanced exploration, virtuosity, and raw emotion. A night of music that lingered long after the final notes had faded.

REVIEW: Mother Tongue

Published on by Antonia ConstantinLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

“The composition embodies language as both intimate and shared, a timeless link between past heritage and present innovation.”

The evening of November 6th at the Royal Festival Hall was marked by an ambitious and varied program, with Freya Waley-Cohen’s Mother Tongue taking centre stage as the highlight after the interval. Presented by the London Philharmonic Orchestra under the skilled baton of Edward Gardner, this premiere offered a fresh yet contemplative exploration of musical language. The concert was framed by other strong performances, beginning with Víkingur Ólafsson’s near-flawless interpretation of Brahms, which captivated the audience from the start, and culminating in Bartók’s compelling, rhythmic intensity. Together, these works set the stage for Mother Tongue, a composition that invited listeners to reflect on the parallels between music and language.

Mother Tongue envisions language as a carrier of cultural memory and ancestral heritage, linking generations through shared words and meanings. Each movement reflects a unique aspect of this relationship: an individual’s lifelong journey with a word, society’s reshaping of language across generations, the purity of an idea before it finds words, and the intimate passing of language from parent to child. The piece captures language as both personal and communal, a bridge between the past and the ever-evolving present.

Freya Waley-Cohen’s Mother Tongue invited us in my view to define the concept of language through music, its structures and sounds communicating something beyond words. I found myself reflecting on Noam Chomsky’s idea that language is “a process of free creation,” where fixed principles allow infinite variations. Could the same be true for music? In Mother Tongue, individual notes took on roles similar to nouns, verbs, or adjectives—morphology at play in sound. Was I hearing nouns in the deep, resonant tones, adjectives in the vivid shifts of colour, verbs in the energetic bursts?

Waley-Cohen’s composition felt like a conversation with itself, at times loud and insistent, at others soft and introspective. It was as though the music captured the very forms of language engagement: monologues, dialogues, internal reflections, even the loud, messy parts of speech we might never say aloud. Her style is unmistakably modern yet grounded, blending earthy rhythmic pulses with delicate, otherworldly textures. Her vision here seemed to reflect a personal dialogue with language itself—music as both structured and free.

The London Philharmonic Orchestra met Waley-Cohen’s piece with remarkable sensitivity, each musician attuned to the complexity and dynamism of her score. Gardner’s conducting brought an assured clarity to the piece, revealing its narrative layers and guiding us through its shifting energies with grace and precision. He drew out the subtle contrasts within the piece, capturing the essence of Waley-Cohen’s language-like patterns in ways that felt both deliberate and free-flowing.
By the end, I was left with a lingering sense of how music can articulate ideas in ways words never could, each note a possibility, each phrase an expression. This was an evening of bold contrasts, masterful performances, and a powerful reminder of the endless potential within music’s evolving language.

REVIEW: Inside the Orchestra at Drumsheds

Published on by Alice WoodhouseLeave a comment

Rating: 5 out of 5.

“Inside Aurora Orchestra was a truly magic experience. An absolute must see event where you can truly immerse yourself in the music.”

Welcome to Inside Aurora Orchestra at the Drumsheds London. This was one fantastic performance held inside an incredibly large and impressive industrial venue. This venue combined with Aurora’s magnificent performance made for a truly remarkable experience. From the moment you walk in the room, the musicians were in full view as they prepared to take their places and set up to entertain us, this made for such a wholesome and exciting start to the evening as we were filled with anticipation. The production was given a backdrop of the the most extravagant, elongated wall gallery that was beautifully lit up throughout their entire performance along the front wall, displaying images supplied by the national gallery of the original costumes designs from the 1910 performance of the “Firebird” ballet.

Shortly after 6:30pm the musicians emerged from their staging area and took to their places on various mini platforms that were scattered throughout the room. This allowed the audience to congregate within the orchestra itself surrounded by the performers who were elevated above us. Whilst the Orchestra showcased two wildly famous classical ballet pieces we, the audience, were able to wonder around the venue and tune into various musicians one step at a time. Whilst many people decided to stand in the centre of the room and take in the sound collectively as a whole, I would highly recommend you walk around and immerse yourself in the music.

The layout of the musicians was clearly well thought out. The conductor was, of course, in the centre of the room whilst all the other musicians were set in a round of 3 concentric circles. Each musician was either standing or sat next to someone in the same instrument family. This was most definitely a deliberate decision, as it allowed for the audience members to zone in on individual parts, for short periods, as they walked around the room, an option myself and my partner took. The string section in particular made for such a special viewing as their bows danced in perfect synchronisation. Due to how immersive this production was you couldn’t help but get lost in the music as you wonder around and pass each musician, picking up different elements as you go. These players were immensely talented and this experience was quite simply unique.

The orchestra played two ballet pieces in total, Igor Stravinsky’s 1945 Suite of “The Firebird” and Maurice Ravel’s world famous “Boléro”, both performed from memory. These two pieces told a story, and whilst the conductor shares a few factorial insights to these two classical ballets, you somehow manage to tap into your own imagination. With this unique way of hearing a classical orchestra, I seemed to tap into my own imagination where both my mind and soul twirled into a magical world of joy and play. At times I felt like I was skipping trough a meadow, frolicking in the fields and dancing with the birds on my shoulder.

Both pieces end on such a high, as the musicians deliver their final moments of their performances with boldness and grandeur, leaving you both enlightened and energised. I would love to see an extention of the show both visually and in length, one more musical piece would have been lovely as I personally felt the performance was a little too short. I believe the company could enhance their show with two to four ballerinas performing either outside the circle or on the mini stages. As their artwork displayed a beautiful garden I also think covering the black bars on their mini stages with flowers would be a stunning visual and would truly enhance the experience for the audience. These are just my personal views and ideas to build on what is already an incredible production. Inside Aurora Orchestra was a truly magic experience.

REVIEW: Baroque Inspirations

Published on by Iona GoodallLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

“Dive in headfirst to an evening of pure musical joy.”

The name “Baroque Inspirations” didn’t ring many bells for me, not being a connoisseur of classical music (my personal taste usually cuts off around 1970). But after spending my Friday night with the talented musicians of the Scottish Chamber Orchestra and their energetic conductor Maxim Emelyanychev, I found a new appreciation for classical music, and I truly believes that even non-classical fans will really enjoy this lively evening.

The evening is divided up into 4 main movements, with the first two coming from 20th century composers inspired by the music and instruments of the Baroque period, and the latter two from composers from the era itself. I found the first half to be a more interesting spin on the theme – the music was cheeky, funny, unexpected, leaping about from a harpsichord solo (played by Emelyanychev) to a full sweeping orchestral moment. To many it may seem obvious, but I’d never seen before how conversational orchestral music could be – until I saw a double bass arguing with cellos and violas in Stravinsky’s Pulcinella.

In our second act, the music was more traditional, but still beautiful. A real highlight was first violin soloist Stephanie Gonley’s solo in Vivaldi’s L’Estro Armonico, soaring above her fellow soloist cello and second violin (Philip Higham and Marcus Barcham Stevens, respectively) in a heartbreakingly sorrowful and wild moment, leading to a gorgeous crescendo. There was also a fascinating array of traditional instruments used, from what I can only describe as a lute as big as a full-grown man, and what looked like a giant staff with bells on (see, I told you my musical knowledge is limited!)

I felt the main surprise of the evening lay in the interval performance. Maxim Emelyanychev led a few of his orchestra off-stage, into the lobby of the City Halls, performing a relaxed and cheery set of songs with a few instruments. Finally he called on us to sing and dance along for the last song, Pastime in Good Company by King Henry VIII – a few in the audience laughed, until he started handing us out sheet music and telling us to sing on verses two and four! It gave the feeling of being at a fete in a country village, singing not because you think you sound good but because music is something to be shared together.

I think that really exemplifies the ethos of the SCO – that music is for everybody and can be enjoyed by all, even if you don’t have the absolutely insane mastery of an instrument like each musician in the SCO, or have a cello that’s over 300 years old (that’s not an exaggeration – cello soloist Philip Higham’s cello was made in 1697, according to the programme notes).

Going to a classical music concert can sometimes still appear to be something for stuffy older people – and true, most of the attendees were several decades older than myself – but I don’t think there could be anything better than throwing yourself head first into the experience of great music played well, not waiting for any lyrics or direction to tell you what you should be thinking, and finding what emotion and story you yourself can sense from just the sound alone. The SCO is a great night out for anyone who wants to really feel how music can have an eternal impact, even hundreds of years later.

REVIEW: Fever Dreams

Published on by Maria Mădălina IfrimLeave a comment

Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

“The Manchester Collective’s Fever concert was a captivating blend of bold programming, virtuosic performance, and rich emotional contrasts that left the audience spellbound.”

The Manchester Collective’s Fever concert was an arresting showcase of bold programming and virtuosity, weaving a tapestry of both familiar and avant-garde compositions. The ensemble, known for its innovative approach, delivered a night full of vibrant contrasts, each piece a landscape of emotion, technique, and sonic experimentation.

The evening began with Grażyna Bacewicz’s Concerto for String Orchestra, a 15-minute whirlwind that left the audience on edge, alive with the energy of a piece that seemed to morph through stages of raw pain and joy. The opening struck with intense power, setting a tone of tension, as angular rhythms and folk influences began to surface. The first section felt emotionally charged at times anxious, with the orchestra creating a dialogue so fragmented it seemed almost divided. Yet as the piece progressed, this sombre mood gave way to a more playful, almost fantastical section, like a fevered dream dissolving into a cheery, light-hearted fantasy. The virtuosic playing and jazz-like angularity made it a dynamic opener, one that balanced complex emotions with a rhythmic, folk-inspired vitality.

Next came the world premiere of Laurence Osborn’s Schiller’s Piano, co-comissioned by  Zubin Kanga and the Manchester Collective, an exploration of sound and texture that brought the audience into a bizarre, yet captivating, auditory realm. Osborn created a piece centred around the piano and MIDI keyboard, featuring manipulated recordings of physical piano components—wood, brass, felt, and wire. The work was inspired by the haunting story of a counterfeit piano, an empty shell made to preserve furniture from bombing, and Osborn translated this hollow existence into a vivid auditory experience. The result was dissonant, yet compelling, with layers of birdsong, rain, and familiar instruments fusing to create a disorienting soundscape. The piano emerged intermittently like a breath of fresh air amid brash, abrasive sounds, reminding us of its poetic power, while traditional instruments helped anchor the strangeness into something comprehensible. It was exhilarating, though perhaps slightly overextended, but it left a profound sense of the musicality embedded in even the most unexpected sounds.

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s Serenade for Strings followed, lending a heartwarming and romantic respite to the experimental edge of the previous works. The first and third movements were full of expansive and contracting musical phrases, as if portraying an internal struggle before resolving into a harmonious, glassy, and hopeful conclusion. Tchaikovsky’s signature emotional warmth enveloped the hall, offering a serene contrast to the frenetic energy of the earlier pieces. The work felt like a return to something deeply familiar, and it carried a welcoming, almost intimate charm.

Caroline Shaw’s Evergreen, the fourth piece, brought another organic, nature-inspired exploration to the evening. Shaw’s music flowed with airiness, lightness, and a tactile sense of green leaves fluttering in the wind. The sound seemed to capture how wind moves through the limbs of a tree, or how birds build their nests in high branches. The glistening string lines, airy arpeggios, and spiralling rhythms gave the impression of a delicate psalm, gradually gaining energy and momentum as the piece unfolded. Shaw’s music, a gift to a single tree, managed to feel both fragile and sacred, building layers of beauty with gentle freedom.

Finally, the concert closed with Wojciech Kilar’s Orawa, a piece that used rhythm as its central musical force. Kilar’s lyrical lines painted landscapes of mountains and rivers, with peaks and valleys emerging vividly through the undulating melodies. The dissonance within the piece mimicked nature’s rough edges, and the steady rhythmic pulse created a sense of both motion and stillness—like the act of climbing a mountain, only to jump and land at the summit with an exhilarating finality. The ending, with its sudden “jump and land,” brought a jolt of excitement, leaving the audience breathless.

Throughout the evening, the Manchester Collective proved once again why they are one of the most innovative ensembles on the scene today. Each piece in Fever offered something unexpected, whether it was the virtuosic dialogue in Bacewicz’s work, the dissonant adventure of Osborn’s Schiller’s Piano, or the lyrical expansiveness of Kilar’s Orawa. The Collective’s ability to balance the unexpected with the familiar made the entire performance a thrilling journey into soundscapes both new and beloved.

This concert was not merely a showcase of musical prowess—it was an adventure, an exploration of sound, rhythm, and texture that kept the audience engaged from start to finish. Once again, the Manchester Collective delivered an ingenious, inspiring program that felt fresh, bold, and deeply satisfying.

REVIEW: Serenade to Music by Candlelight

Published on by dougiebannonLeave a comment

Rating: 5 out of 5.

A magical, soaring musical evening with more to offer than what first meets the eye

Located in the heart of Trafalgar Square, St Martin In The Fields is one of the most ornate of venues to perform this candlelit serenade, a day after Valentine’s. However, the event did not limit itself purely to romantic themes, exploring the work of Vaughan Williams – whose pieces commenced and culminated – but were illuminated by Dieterich Buxtehude’s 17th Century ‘Membra Jesu Nostri’ and Caroline Shaw’s To The Hands – reflecting on crises in the modern day and our response to this. Conducted by Andrew Earis, the Academy of St Martin in the Fields Chamber Ensemble and St Martins Voices present a transportive and utterly compelling demonstration of storytelling through ensemble choir, that does not merely sound beautiful – although it did – but also is used to confront profound and pressing questions of our time.

Before I begin, a couple of allowances. Firstly, I am mainly a theatre attendee and can count the amount of classical concerts or choral performances – church attendances as a child excepted – on one hand. The second is that my lovely friends at TfL have, for reasons known to them but not to me, exceedingly few Central line trains at the moment, and despite the assurances and wonderful customer service of the ushers – and one particularly patient receptionist – I arrived on the borderline of late, in the first church I’ve been in in years, as an uninitiate of the opera, to review this show. Church pews are not famed for their comfort*, but this was a blessing as I was only on two and a half hours sleep (trains again, thanks LNER) and a full day’s work. So, a haggard, tired, inexperienced, uncomfortable and stressed-out reviewer walks into a church. 

And experiences something utterly beautiful. Challenging. Eye-opening. World expanding. Life Affirming. Really bloody good.

The serenade began with Williams’ ‘Five Mystical Songs’, the arrangement of which showed off each of the singers individually before demonstrating what they could do as a group. Lighter than the subsequent songs, this took us on a journey which veered between the bright and airy and the mysterious and magical, the changes between the dark and the light gorgeously handled by the St Martins Voices, and by the Chamber Ensemble which at points seemed to breathe as one.

Following was Buxtehude’s Ad Manus from ‘Membra Jesu Nostri’, and we went back in time. It was at this point, my eye drifted around the stunningly decorated church roof and I wondered if this piece had been here before. It was darker, the lower notes of the Ensemble reverberating on the hard wood pews. How might an audience four hundred years ago have felt to listen to this? It’s in Latin. I don’t know Latin. Did I actually travel back in time, my Youngish Perspective being of later 17th Century Germany? Who am I to be here? I look around and see an audience of friends, proud parents, enthusiasts and others looking similarly as lost and then something odd happens. A soprano’s voice sails over everything else and for a second, then a moment, then a minute, and onward, I’m drawn in, and it all just drops away. I have travelled back in time, but I’m here and in this wonderful classical sound bath. 

As an answer, and written in direct response to this, we were presented to Pulitzer-Prize-Winner Caroline Shaw’s ‘To The Hands’ which examined the human right – and need – to seek refuge in the face of multifaceted and insurmountable crises. This was the moment I leant in. Okay, I don’t know much about Choral music, but give me an unresolved chord, some soaring discordant melodies and I’m hooked. Throw in some unsung numbers, ever increasing; contrast chaotic babble with choral unity; challenge what I think of when I think of ‘classical’ music. More please.

Completing this conversation of music through the centuries was our second Vaughan Williams piece, and namesake of the evening: ‘Serenade to Music’. The Voices gave way to a Tenor and my gosh (still in a church, don’t forget) what a voice. More episodic than the preceding pieces, this last one felt like a summing up, a beautiful arrangement with an irresistible end. Andrew Earis, in his conducting, did something I adored at the end of every piece. He waited. Just enough for the sound to dissipate, the dust to settle, so that we may catch our breath and know what we had just heard. It’s a little thing, but it was effective.

The concerts at St Martins happen every week around Thursday to Saturday. In a city where rushing around, not sleeping enough, working too much and making excuses based on the train timetables are the norm, an hour-long break to listen to an ensemble of virtuosos in a gorgeous setting is just what is required. It should’ve been packed, but it wasn’t, and it deserves to be. 

*I’m also assured you can get cushions for those bereft of the padding this reviewer has in abundance.

REVIEW: Rachmaninov’s Symphony No. 1 at the Liverpool Philharmonic

Published on by nickjkehoeLeave a comment

Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

Liverpool Philharmonic’s latest love letter to strings

Opening the New Year with a robust collection of concerts featuring a diverse mix of composers, The Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra are currently putting their strings front and centre with performances of Rachmaninov’s Symphony No. 1 (Op. 13), preceded by renditions of Scherzo Fantastique by Josef Suk and Sibelius’ Violin Concerto in D Minor (Op. 7).

One thing to note is the cleverness with which the pieces have been arranged – opening with Scherzo Fantastique, the audience is immediately captured by a sudden swell from the string section. Later there will be appropriate lulls: Sibelius winds down for the interval, for example, but afterwards the titular piece brings back energy to round out the evening. Often overlooked, the ability of an orchestra and their artistic director to shape the flow of the several pieces of disparate composition is something many people will never notice if it is done well, but will be readily apparent if it isn’t. 

The immediate burst of sound from the arrayed strings is quickly tempered as we enter a period of back and forth – some softer strings cutting into heavy brass crescendos. Immediately apparent is the sheer accuracy of this orchestra: there are no late starts, no-one rushes or drags, everyone on the stage is doing precisely what they need to at all times. Conductor Domingo Hindoyan has obviously integrated well into the orchestra in his three years in the post and this is apparent in his command of the material and his on-stage relationship with the orchestra. 

As Scherzo Fantastique closes with a full, bombastic ensemble it must be said that these are not “thin” pieces of music. There is not a complete brass section present, but the brass that is there is loud, and can sometimes drown out some of the more mellifluous runs by the strings and wind. This is a shame, as in pieces with such excellent interplay between heavier and lighter motifs it means some of the softer and, to my mind more interesting, sections of the concert can be lost under trumpets and Cor Anglais.

For Sibelius’ Violin Concerto we were lucky enough to have the Philharmonic’s Artist in Residence, Simone Lamsma, playing lead violin. Simply put, this piece was stunning. Immediately Simone’s mastery of the instrument is apparent as we launch into a haunting, meandering violin line that will be picked up by cellos before long, really driving home the emphasis on their string section. She remains audible and in control of the sound throughout the growing swell of cello accompaniment, performing flawlessly and continuously and expertly providing sombre, ethereal violin lines that ride atop the orchestra.

After this piece we get a charming violin encore from Lamsma (with accompaniment by 1st and 2nd violin and 1st cello) before the interval, after which begins the titular piece – Rachmaninov’s Symphony No. 1. 

That distinctive, insistent opening of the first movement – Grave – Allegro non troppo –  dispels any qualms about returning to a performance now lacking that stunning lead violin and grabs attention, opening up the audience for forty-five minutes or so of exciting arabesque swells and motifs by the incredibly synergistic string section. This synergy extends to other sections as we move into the second movement – Allegro animata, with a series of crescendos featuring all sections in an amazing display of coordination. If anything this movement only serves as yet another testament to the skill of this conductor and these musicians. 

The energy lulls briefly in the third movement – Larghetto – for the purposes of highlighting a beautiful refrain on clarinet and flute, giving the wind section centre-stage for a little while. Periods of rise and fall, with tension maintained by strings and brass together, give way to a complex violin air – this movement very much highlighting the intricacy of Rachmaninov’s composition. The finale of Larghetto may be a little lacklustre compared to some of the more powerful closes on other movements but this is more than made up for by the heady, almost overture-esque nature of Allegro con fuoco – the fourth movement, which expertly ties together all of those energetic and strident motifs and creates a complex and nuanced tapestry of sound. 

A phenomenal performance, with so few flaws as to barely detract from any single aspect: every musician performed excellently – with an obvious stand-out performance by Simone Lamsma – and found themselves very much able to show off not only their own talents, but the full extent of the talent of these composers. An excellent concert by The Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra.