PROM 18: Adams, Corigliano,
Prokofiev, Joshua Bell (violin), Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra,
Marin Alsop, Royal Albert Hall,
28 July, 2005 (MB)
The centrepiece
of this Prom was the UK premiere of John Corigliano’s
The Red Violin, music in part derived from
the composer’s score from the film of the same name. The
film tells the story of a violin through the eyes of various
owners over some three centuries, and Corigliano’s
concerto, which he describes as in the same ‘tradition as
the great Romantic concertos’, works in a similar way.
Taking functional devices – such as the opening,
Bach-inspired Chaconne – Corigliano
pours centuries of technique into a work which even retains
the balance of a traditional Nineteenth century concerto.
At 17 minutes in length, the opening movement has the same
taut structure as concertos by Beethoven and Brahms, with
succeeding movement’s applying a musical equilibrium and
mood to balance it.
The
Baroqueness of the Chaconne does
owe its symmetry to Bach’s D minor Chaconne from his Partita
No.2, but also evident are a Mendelssohnian
second movement, a nocturne-like third movement which recalls
Shostokovich and a final movement which could recall any composer’s
idiom in making virtue of the technical possibilities of
the violin itself.
Musically,
Corigliano has always been one
of the most original voices in contemporary American music,
and this concerto is a fine example of his style. The shimmering
orchestration, the neo-Romanticism of the scoring, the exquisite
dynamic range, the energy and depth which contrast frequently
are hallmarks of Corigliano’s
mature style. There is a focussed attention to placing the
violin and orchestra against each other, as if in a duel
(contrast this with both the Adams and the Glass violin
concertos and Corigliano’s is
effortlessly more musical), and its virtuosity is of a somewhat
different scale. Bell’s formidable technique made much of
the frequent double-stopping, cross string bowing and double
harmonics. Likewise, Corigliano’s
willingness to abandon pitch altogether seemed innately
musical when it might otherwise have swung the other way.
Sometimes, especially in the third and fourth movements,
Bell’s tone seemed unable to ride over the formidable power
of Corigliano’s orchestration
(and Alsop did not compromise here either) but there was never
any doubting that he had the essence of the work’s long
line in his vision.
Two
works of vastly different rhythmic styles framed the concerto,
John Adams’ The Chairman Dances and Alsop’s own suite
from Prokofiev’s Romeo
and Juliet. Adams’ monotony – which really does become
grating at times – allowed Alsop to dance on the podium, even if at times the Bournemouth
players were dancing to a quite different tempo. The Prokofiev
fared much better. Here, Alsop
took a slightly darker view than the usual suites – playing
up the human and emotional tragedy of the drama at the expense
of the overtly balletic. The opening
‘Montagues and Capulets’
stated quite early this conductor’s intent on allowing climaxes
to explode rather than blossom, and yet while she held the
power in reserve well enough sometimes one felt that dynamics
struggled to be heard. There were beautifully phrased woodwind
solos in some of the less power-driven excerpts (‘Masks’,
‘Dance of the Antilles Girls’ and ‘Aubade’)
but in general Alsop and her orchestra
were best in the drama and tragedy of the ballet. The ‘Death
of Tybalt’ began rather blandly
but concluded with some shattering sonorities (and what
wonderfully fatal timpani strokes she summoned from her
player) but best was the beautifully phrased string playing
in the ballet’s two concluding numbers, ‘Romeo at Juliet’s
Tomb’ and ‘Juliet’s Death’.
In both, a sense of pathos was crafted and it worked
marvellously.
Marc Bridle
