Seen and Heard Prom
Review
PROM 35: Lambert, Coleridge-Taylor,
Stanford and Elgar, Mark Stone (baritone), Phillipe
Graffin (violin), BBC Concert Orchestra/Barry Wordsworth, Royal
Albert Hall, 11 August, 2005 (ED)
Have you ever sat in a concert and wondered why on earth you were
there? Well, that’s exactly what went through my mind again
and again during this one. In fact, my mind was semi-occupied
with Walton, Vaughan Williams, Richard Strauss and Beethoven,
but more of them as I proceed.
Of course, I chose to go. The reasons for the choice were plain
enough as, on paper, a potentially interesting web of musical
associations was promised. Three works had sea associations relating
to this year’s major Proms theme – those of Stanford
and Lambert being self-evident; that of Coleridge-Taylor was less
so (the score for the concerto was lost aboard RMS Titanic en
route to the world premiere, leading to hasty re-writing). Stanford
was also Coleridge-Taylor’s teacher, and he (C-T) received
his first major commission with the help of Alfred Jaeger, forever
‘Nimrod’ of Elgar’s Variations on an Original
Theme. Just as Elgar’s The Dream of Gerontius
– barely two weeks ago – illustrated exactly what
the Proms does best, this was nothing more than a slot-filler
in the schedule.
The performance proved a non-entity almost from first to last.
Mind you, look at what they actually had to work with in terms
of music. The craftsmanship of the composition ranged from the
mundane to the average; inspiration hardly featuring to any great
degree in the first three works. If Lambert’s eclectic style
brought shades of Walton and Vaughan Williams to mind (rarely
and briefly), I was left wishing that I was listening to something
with at least a fraction of their inspiration.
Instead, something well meaning yet stolid from another age was
in progress. A journey down memory lane for some perhaps - to
a dimly remembered monochrome flick or of school days long past
(Stanford) – but no matter how well meaning neither could
end soon enough. The kindest thing, it is often said, is to sail
a ship serenely out of port and scuttle her at midnight with dignity
intact. In musical terms read that as ‘acknowledge the importance
these composers had for their age, but don’t perform it
any more, please’. The little Englanders were happy and
the grey rinse brigade too, but please, composition even
in England, has moved on so much…
It seemed hardly anyone noticed the scrappy playing. Alright,
so the BBC Concert Orchestra is not the Vienna Phil (we have to
wait a few weeks for them), but even so standards were on the
ocean’s floor. Violins and violas for the most part dominated
with shrill tone. The celli and basses, floundering at first,
eventually found something like their depth – but hardly
distinctively. Timpani and brass proved dominant and, as repeatedly
happened, dominated proceedings to a degree they should not have.
Woodwind solos seemed to count for little.
Above it all Wordsworth directed at first with workmanlike dedication;
later lunging and flapping extravagantly to little effect. Poor
Mark Stone as soloist in the Stanford had not the incisiveness
with the text possessed by a Luxon or Allen, though he brought
pleasing tone. But he was too frequently caught unawares as orchestral
and choral waves swamped his vocal line, a situation that Wordsworth
might have done his best to prevent.
The curiosity of the night, Coleridge-Taylor’s violin concerto,
proved a curate's egg of a work; indeed to hear it once might
be considered enough. The heart of it, the central andante, was
pleasing, but the rest barely held together, despite impassioned
advocacy from soloist Philippe Graffin. With motifs treated episodically,
passed between soloist and orchestra, in unison and repeated beyond
their natural strength, there is little of real interest, despite
there being two available recordings should you want one. What
there is, beyond the nocturnal andante, is chiefly in the rhythmic
invention if not the orchestration of the third movement. However,
despite committed playing Graffin too failed have enough presence
to grip proceedings. Ultimately, it was a deflating experience,
given that on record at least Graffin has produced interesting
things. His freshly recorded Elgar concerto with Vernon Handley
should be worth a listen when it appears.
So finally to the Elgar (and Richard Strauss): “Here for
the first time is an Englishman who has something to say.”
Some ray of hope was at least in prospect, but it was quickly
dashed by the performance. Pancake flat and under-characterized,
Wordsworth’s approach was, shall I say, spacious: to the
point of lengthy pauses inserted between variations, though thankfully
he refrained from squeezing the lifeblood from Nimrod, as I feared
he might given the evening so far. It was hard to credit that
this, an English orchestra and conductor, should attempt to reduce
Elgar to bare mediocrity. If you listened hard there was a slight
distant grinding before the organ’s entry in the finale:
Elgar, Wood, Boult, and the rest all turning in their graves.
Who could blame them?
Perhaps the time has come to look more closely at the mission
and quality of BBC performing groups together with the Proms,
and to take both in new directions – even if that should
mean quality at the expense of mediocrity in all its forms. “O
Freunde, nicht diese Töne!” – and yes, it
took a German to say it first, but he had a point…
Evan Dickerson
