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              SEEN 
              AND HEARD  INTERNATIONAL CONCERT REVIEW 
              
                
              
              Gabrieli, Britten, MacMillan:
              
              
              Munich Philharmonic, James MacMillan (conductor), Daniel Hope 
              (violin), Gasteig, Munich 12.12.2007 (JFL) 
               
              Daniel Hope is proof that good connections, aggressive 
              management, and astute choices of repertoire and collaborations are at 
              least as important as talent in manufacturing a career. The 
              violinist, one of whose greatest distinctions  was to have been Yehudi Menuhin’s last student (his mother was Menuhin’s assistant) 
              and regular collaborator, was still a child when he played 
              Bartók’s 44 Duos for Violin for German television (and a 
              subsequent 60 concerts) together with the grand old master. 
              
               
              
                
              
              Picture ©  
                                                                                                    
                                    
              
		      
              James MacMillan
               
              
              Gabrieli: Canzon duodecimi toni, Sonata pian e forte, Sonata XVIII
              Britten: Violin Concerto op.15
              MacMillan: Symphony “Vigil” (Triduum III)
              
              
              James MacMillan
              
              
              
              His popularity in Germany and the UK stems not  least from his 
              work with Schnittke and the London Royal Academy, membership in 
              the now retiring Beaux Arts Trio, projects with Klaus Maria 
              Brandauer, Sting, and Uri Caine. Most recently,  a book about 
              tracing his heritage (“a search for Hope's roots in Europe, Africa 
              and beyond, weaving the disparate strands of his ancestry – 
              prosperous assimilated German Jewish families who became refugees 
              from Hitler, a young Irishman who sought his fortune in South 
              Africa…”) was a most judicious move that garnered much of that 
              all-important publicity.
              
              Now he has an exclusive contract with the Yellow Label, Deutsche 
              Grammophon, – and is in the company of violinists like Hillary 
              Hahn, Gidon Kremer, and Vadim Repin. Arguably,  few experts 
              would suggest Hope to be quite on the same level as these artists 
              and I had never been all that impressed with previous recordings I had 
              heard from him, only thinking him “quite good”. My 
              impression became much more favorable however when
              I 
              heard him twice 
              at the National Gallery of Art in Washington DC with the Beaux 
              Arts Trio where he displayed musicality and chamber-playing 
              instinct, rather than just serving as a ‘violinist patch’.
              
              Still, his signing with DG was more than a mild surprise. I’ve not 
              heard the first result of this collaboration yet (the Mendelssohn 
              Concerto, Octet, and arranged songs with the Chamber Orchestra of 
              Europe under Thomas Hengelbrock), but I was all the more eager to 
              hear him in concert again, now as a soloist.
              
              The opportunity provided itself when the Munich Philharmonic, 
              conducted by composer James MacMillan, took on a nicely 
              challenging and interesting program of Giovanni Gabrieli choruses 
              for eight to fourteen brass instruments, Britten’s Violin 
              Concerto, and MacMillan's own “Vigil” Symphony. After the bright 
              and impeccable brass pieces had been gotten out of the way, Hope 
              displayed the Britten. With a nice tone, clarity, accuracy, and 
              inner tensions, there was little to take issue with except perhaps 
              the pianissimos which were not all evenly beautiful.
              
              Hope gave  a movingly lyrical touch to the concerto, 
              whether above the timpani pounding away (Beethoven’s spirit 
              calling) or amid the brass glory in the unbound joyous energy of 
              the second movement. (No influence of the impending war in Europe 
              to be heard here.) The great Elliot Carter, 99 years old and
              still kicking, 
              very aptly called the concerto the English pendant to Prokofiev's 
              and Shostakovich's.
              
              There is a dark brass front towering over the end of the second 
              movement (“Vivace”), just before the pizzicato studded cadenza, 
              that briefly has a Shostakovichian, threatening quality. But even 
              that is not in any way war-like – and leads anyway to the glorious 
              transition to the Passacaglia of the final movement. The 
              brass continued sumptuously, Hope with contemplation. This was 
              clean, impeccable, and a little more than that, too. Emotionally 
              riveting it was not, but with the Britten it did not need to be 
              for great effect. The concerto needs first and foremost to be 
              played beautifully to work well, and that it was beyond any doubt.
              
              I was much enamored with the difficult but enjoyable, profound but 
              listener-oriented music of James MacMillan when 
              
              Out of silence appear sounds of dim color like bulbs, that are then 
              violently interrupted with percussion. There follows a soft 
              orchestral passage before another, dark and brass colored, bulb 
              with growling phrases grows. The phrases become shorter and then 
              longer again, all awhile brutal sounds alternate with light, lofty 
              lines: this stop’n’go strategy dominates MacMillan’s first 
              movement, veering between dark and tender, snarling violence and 
              gentle touches. The Philharmonic at the Gasteig was filled with 
              eastern sounds, shy shimmers of metal, ominous swells and ever 
              recurring moments of portentous silence - silences so complete 
              that the ticking of my automatic wrist watch seemed embarrassingly 
              loud.
              
              A brass quintet’s chorale introduces another orchestral clash 
              (again providing a link to the Gabrieli pieces first heard), there 
              is more ‘storm and retreat’ going on before the brass lets it rip 
              in the Easter proclamation "Exultet –  (et pro tanti Regis victoria) 
              tuba insonet salutaris.” ("...Sound the trumpet of salvation!") 
              The violent climaxes before the celesta create a false (?) sense 
              of calm and idyll only to be – again – violently and wildly 
              interrupted at random intervals.
              
              These interruptions were taken as a cue for many audience members 
              to demonstratively leave the hall, with the third movement not 
              even under way. These fair-weather listeners thus sent to the exit 
              in scores, the third movement – “Water” – proved even and flowing 
              at first, more passive, dark with calm brass passages, lots of 
              col legno additions by the strings which only now entered the 
              action in this work. There is an elemental, raw power that sweeps 
              before it the listener into the cacophonous climaxes in “Vigil”. 
              It compelled this listener to a happy, inner and delighted 
              laughter about the work’s audacity but also about its effect on 
              others (either completely enraptured or uncomfortably squirming in 
              their seats). After about 16 minutes of darkness in the first two 
              movements (despite the misleading title “Light” of the first), 
              light only comes into play in “Water” where its refractions blink 
              and shimmer to the surface amid the many sounds swirling about. 
              Mad gallops toward the end of the third movement sent yet another 
              wave of listeners out of the hall – and during the work’s end over 
              faint, silver touches you could hear those patrons just outside, 
              discussing angrily what they had just been made to listen to.
              
              It was a fine day for good new music and a courageous triumph for 
              the Munich Philharmonic (which offered professional, if not great, 
              playing). But it was also a monument to the lack of curiosity of 
              much of its clientele. The Munich audience had proved by virtue of 
              its absence that it will only pretend to be interested in modern 
              music to a certain extent… and that programming a “modern, little 
              known composer” like Britten (that’s sadly his status among many 
              attendees) with a contemporary piece and some obscure renaissance 
              prelude is far too ambitious for them to respond to. As rich as 
              the cultural environment is in Munich, and as much as it prides 
              itself in its diversity, it cannot deny a certain provincial 
              attitude that is often coupled with a plain ignorant and 
              dismissive attitude of all (cultural) things Anglo-Saxon and, 
              indeed, foreign. Give the subscription holders of the Munich 
              Philharmonic their Strauss (either), Mozart, Brahms and they shall 
              be happy. Give them Britten and they won't come - or come and 
              leave mid-concert. A pity.
              
              
              
              Undeterred, laudably, the Munich Philharmonic will offer Thomas 
              Adès’ 
              
              Asyla 
              from January 30th to February 1st.
              
              
              Jens F. Laurson
