Julian Anderson Imagin’d
Corners
Hector Berlioz Béatrice
et Bénédict-Overture
Maurice Ravel Mother Goose
Suite
Modest Mussorgsky (orch. Ravel)
Pictures at an Exhibition
Having just taken over the mantle of CBSO Composer
in Association from Judith Weir, Imagin’d Corners is the first
of several projected works for the orchestra and it’s related ensembles
that Julian Anderson will write over the next three years. The orchestra
gave two performances in the same week, the premiere having taken place
two nights before this concert, a rare opportunity for a composer indeed
and a privilege afforded to a very select few. But Anderson is an undoubted
talent and one of the most assured compositional voices to appear in
recent years, a fact borne out by the recent CBSO performances of his
Prom commission The Stations of the Sun.
Taking as his starting points a line from John Donne’s
Seven Holy Sonnets and Schumann’s Konzertstück for horns
and orchestra, Anderson takes five horns and creates a concerto like
showpiece, exploiting the traditional character of the instruments in
distinctly untraditional ways, as well as the spatial opportunities
afforded by Symphony Hall. A glance through the composer’s programme
note on the piece could well worry the listener of nervous disposition
in its technical explanation of his use of micro-tonal tuning systems,
however such is Anderson’s skill in weaving these harmonies into his
textures it is highly unlikely to cause offence. In fact, although the
language is unquestionably of our time, Anderson shares a wonderfully
sensitive ear with his teacher, Oliver Knussen, in his stunning use
of the orchestra with crystal clear transparency of orchestration and
a bewildering and beguiling textural palette.
Much use is made of the cors de chasse (as the
composer puts it) style of horn playing, the work opening atmospherically
with four of the horns calling from off stage, the other horn remaining
on the stage throughout, seated between the wind and brass. It is not
until around one third of the way through the piece that the four off
stage players appear on the stage, taking their seats in front of the
conductor. Their appearance follows a gradually accelerating passage
from the orchestra, the now seated horns revelling in their cors
de chasse style, and ultimately resulting in the horns separating
to either side of the stage, their calls getting ever wilder until they
bring the work to a bellowing conclusion. In amongst the fun, there
is some luminously beautiful orchestral writing and Anderson’s fertile
musical imagination has resulted in a work that clearly caught the audience’s
attention. Add to this an impressively confident performance with fine
playing from the solo horns and the conclusion is a fitting start to
Anderson’s residency with the orchestra and his new Birmingham audience.
The decision to open the concert with the Anderson
as opposed to the more predictable Berlioz overture turned out to be
a good one, the Anderson being suitably spirited for the purpose. If
anything, the Berlioz seemed to suffer as a result, for although the
lively opening was well captured, overall the performance did not quite
come alive. The same certainly could not be said of the Ravel however,
with the strings turning in some ravishingly alluring sounds, notably
in the glorious concluding Le Jardin féerique, as moving
as I have ever heard it and simply glowing in the wonderful final chord.
The resonant warmth of the CBSO strings coupled with the depth and clarity
of the Symphony Hall acoustic seemed to serve the delicacy of Ravel’s
often chamber like orchestration well and from the limpid, sensitively
shaped flute solo at the opening of Sleeping Beauty’s Pavane
through the palpable sadness of Tom Thumb, to the finely characterised
oriental world of the Empress of the Pagoda’s, the playing was
never short of delightful throughout.
Pictures at an Exhibition usually makes at least
one appearance during every Symphony Hall concert season and although
I have heard several performances by visiting orchestras as well as
the CBSO I recall the consistency as being somewhat questionable. A
case of over familiarity breeding complacency in some cases perhaps.
Fortunately there was much here to commend, the majestic yet rounded
statement of the opening brass promenade leading into possibly not the
most menacing Gnome I have ever heard but certainly one of the
most eerie, the weird string glissandos coming through exceptionally
well. The saxophone solo in The Old Castle was complimented by
some notably fine accompaniment and although the chattering in the Tuileries
could have been that little more lively, Bydlo was supremely
effective in its weight and dynamic control. What a fabulous euphonium
sound! The Ballet of the Chicks in their Shells more than
made up for Tuileries in its poise and effortless lightness of
touch and rarely have I heard the tricky piccolo trumpet part in Goldenberg
and Schmuyle articulated with such clarity. The brass section consistently
showed themselves to be on fine form, mysterious and awesome in Cum
Mortuis in Lingua Mortua and genuinely terrifying in Baba Yaga,
which unleashed itself with unbridled power. The Great Gate of Kiev
did not disappoint in its majesty, with brass and bells blazing to the
last. Cumulatively, this was a truly fine performance and, perhaps more
importantly, a refreshingly engaging one.
Christopher Thomas.
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