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              SEEN 
              AND HEARD CONCERT REVIEW 
              Turnage, 
              Ravel, Prokofiev:  Benedetto 
              Lupo (piano), London Philharmonic Orchestra, Vladimir Jurowski 
              (conductor), Royal Festival Hall, London. 30.1.2008 (AO)
               
              
              
              Three Turnage works are presented in Royal Festival Hall 
              programmes over the next two weeks.  This was the first of two 
              conducted by Vladimir Jurowski,  and in fact the LPO had 
              premiered Turnage’s Evening Songs in 2004, and made the 
              highly-regarded recording which followed.  This performance was if 
              anything a more mature reading, showing how Jurowski and the 
              orchestra have grown deeper into the piece. The programme was 
              extremely well thought out, highlighting aspects of Turnage’s 
              music and setting it into context.
              
              Turnage uses a massive orchestra, large even by late Romantic 
              standards, further augmented by non standard instruments like 
              soprano saxophone and an unusually varied percussion section.  
              There’s potential there for massive, flashy impact, but Turnage, 
              as usual, confounds the obvious.  Instead, Evening Songs is 
              a study in atmospheric mood, meant to create an atmosphere of 
              brooding opaqueness. Sleep, after all, is the theme that runs 
              through the three sections. Hence the lugubrious orchestration, 
              and the slow unfolding of developmental change. In many ways it’s 
              a late night contemplation, more suited to the end of a programme 
              than a beginning. Jazz, or rather the bluesy essence of jazz, 
              though, is never far away with Turnage.  Jurowski understands this 
              well, as he has a feel for the downbeat and strange subterranean 
              flow of the work.  He also ensured that the solo passages, 
              particularly for saxophone and violin, didn’t get lost amid the 
              density of the orchestration.  The foghorn-like rumble that 
              centres the third section, Still Sleeping, gradually lifts, 
              revealing  a lighter, quite lyrical melody.
              
              Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G was therefore an inspired 
              choice to follow Turnage, for it reinforced the jazz imagery.  
              Ravel had recently returned from the United States before writing 
              it  and this too,  is an impressionistic mood piece 
              filled with images of America in the late 1920’s. Unlike Turnage, 
              Ravel uses a fairly small orchestra, favouring rapid dynamics.  
              The textures could not be more different, yet Jurowski judgedthese 
              well, too.  The exuberant dances at the beginning of the first 
              section opened out to a more restrained clearing, as Lupo enters. 
              The second section allowed Lupo to develop the more intimate, 
              contemplative ideas that underpin the more flamboyant jazz 
              imagery, capturing a nebulous, nostalgic mood – the blues without 
              being overtly bluesy.  The Blues exists in different forms in most 
              cultures  and here Ravel connects the jazz age to a deeper 
              tradition. All elements pulled together beautifully in the final 
              movement with its wry exuberance.
              
              Given this emphasis on jazz, one would expect Jurowski to have 
              continued with early Shostakovich, perhaps.  But he's also far too 
              astute musically to choose the obvious. Instead, he takes 
              Prokofiev’s Fifth Symphony and reveals that there’s a vein of 
              wildness, half-submerged beneath the sober classicism.  Prokofiev 
              also knew America, and jazz and by the time this symphony was 
              written, he had discarded his American wife, who ended up in a 
              Soviet gulag. There was no way Prokofiev could have written 
              overtly modernist forms in those circumstances, so he used lively 
              folk idioms  instead.  Jazz they aren’t, but they’re 
              irreverent and free, in contrast to the formality of the symphony. 
              There’s also a small detail in the third movement when something 
              vaguely bluesy arises, to be quickly swept away in breezier, less 
              complex folk rhythms.  It surfaces for barely a moment, but it’s 
              there for a purpose.  The symphony may end in an outburst of showy 
              confidence, but has Prokofiev really suppressed all traces of his 
              alternative thinking?  It is sensitivity to details like this as 
              part of the whole, which define the musical intelligence of a 
              conductor and  yet again, Jurowski reveals the parallels with 
              Turnage.  Prokofiev, writing in Soviet times, needed an 
              unequivocal resolution to cast aside doubt.   Turnage, however, 
              can leave his conclusions open-ended, allowing  his gentle melody 
              to surface from dense textures and rise outwards.
              
              Anne Ozorio 
              
