All-Wagner concerts are a rarity
nowadays, and in retrospect this one might not have been the ideal vehicle
to showcase the talents of the Guildhall Symphony Orchestra. Wagner
– especially the chunks we had here – needs first class ensemble playing
and that, regrettably, was too often not the case in this concert. Wagner’s
writing remains formidably taxing and I have heard many great orchestras
have difficulties with it; for a student orchestra it must be doubly
so.
The Prelude to Act I of Lohengrin
exposed problems of dynamic range – and lacked mystery, even the ‘mistiness’
the score calls for – and the Prelude to Act I of Tristan & Isolde
displayed not just problems of intonation in the ‘cellos but meagre
string tone, which given the sheer size of the string section on stage
was a surprise. Götterdämmerung excerpts proved too
often to be a struggle for the brass, especially some austere sounding
trombones, although horns acquitted themselves well. Yet, this is a
student orchestra and allowances for the playing need to be made (but
it would be remiss of any critic not to comment on the flaws as well
as the triumphs).
There was no doubting the passion
of the playing or the commitment of the players, almost in spite of
their conductor (the Prelude to Act III of Lohengrin really was
rather dashingly done). Sir Colin Davis has recorded relatively little
Wagner (a complete Lohengrin, Wesendonk- Lieder and the
Prelude and Transfiguration to Tristan) so it would be very difficult
to call him a natural Wagnerian – and he isn’t. Too often that single
line of thought that separates the great Wagner conductors from the
not so great wasn’t there. This was Wagner in fits and starts (though
he should be commended for giving us the full bar’s rest after the first
‘cello melody of the Tristan, even if the second was curtailed
too early, and for ensuring that the central section remained near to
Wagner’s tempi). Yet it was a disappointment not to hear that soaring
‘cello line rise so powerfully as it should nor to hear the bass line
before the climax emerge from beneath the rest of the orchestra. The
Liebestod, sung by Susan Bullock, a triumphant Isolde at ENO
and Opera North, added the only element of greatness to the performance
(though I still find her voice too sharp in the upper register and it
can have an edge to it that could cut glass at times). It was also a
little unfortunate that Davis allowed her voice (powerful though it
is) to be drowned out by the brass. But she floats her top notes without
the slightest ripple to disturb the pace.
There were no such problems in
her singing of Elsa’s Dream. Here the creamy contours of her voice emerged
with subdued power. Impeccable German, delivered with the kind of cathartic
phrasing so rarely heard today, gives the impression of singer ready
for the role. Most impressive of all – in both vocal and playing terms
– was an incandescent performance of the Immmolation Scene that produced
rapturous singing and phrasing, this time effortlessly riding above
the ominously loud orchestra. Where there may be problems of warmth
with her Isolde there are no such problems with her Brünnhilde,
which is iron-like in its wilfulness and resolve (indeed, I would hazard
a guess that within the next two years she will be the reigning Brünnhilde
on the great opera stages). A formidable intellect lies behind her singing
of this role, and like Nilsson before her she has enormous range, effortlessly
driven, with plenty of power in reserve. Dynamically she meets every
demand Wagner piles on the singer and every top C she sang was nailed
with absolute precision. Both Davis and the orchestra were at their
best for her, the undoubted highlight of the evening.
If neither Siegfried’s Rhine Journey
nor his Funeral Music quite equalled the passion given to the Immolation
Scene both had their moments. The Funeral Music was ultimately underpowered,
even allowing for the relative broadness of Davis’ tempo, and problems
of orchestral clarity again emerged with the sheathing of the six harps
under a torrent of over zealous playing elsewhere. Yet an orchestra
is only as good as its conductor and Davis’ failure to give this music
the granitic weight it requires only accentuated problems with the musical
line. Asahina, so radiantly powerful in this music in his own Indian
Summer, leaves most conductors today trailing in the wake of an after-quake.
Davis, I’m afraid, only rumbled occasionally.
A mixed concert then, memorable largely for some
rather special singing.
Marc Bridle
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