SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

SEEN AND HEARD UK CONCERT REVIEW

Bartok, Griffiths, Beethoven: Dave Danford (percussion), The Welsh Sinfonia / Mark Eager (conductor), Cardiff University Concert Hall, 14.3.2010 (GPu)

Bartok, Romanian Folk Dances

Griffiths, Emoticons of Time

Beethoven, Symphony No. 7 in A major, Op.92


Alongside (I deliberately do not say ‘below’) our major national and regional orchestras, there exist many other worthwhile orchestras, of varying status and (let’s be honest) of varying standards, a few of them rather embarrassing acts of self-indulgence and many of them doing immensely valuable work – making good-quality orchestral music available in places the LSO and the like would never reach; often making it possible for serious non-professional musicians to share the experience of major works; sometimes commissioning and playing new works. And much else.

In Wales, alongside the BBC National Orchestra of Wales at one end of the spectrum and Youth, community, university orchestras and the like at the other, we are fortunate that a number of other orchestras exist to make their real and distinctive contributions to a generally vibrant musical scene. One noteworthy such case is that of the Welsh Sinfonia. This year sees its twentieth anniversary as a professional orchestra, supported by the Arts Coucil, by business (Deloitte), and by personal donations, as well as by ticket sales. In September 2009 the decision was taken to focus its energy and attentions on the chamber orchestra repertoire. The orchestra is based in Cardiff and normally consists of between 15 and 35 musicians (though it can be expanded when desired, as on this occasion). Its leader is Robin Stowell, long a member of the Academy of Ancient Music and currently Professor and Head of Music at Cardiff University; Mark Eager has been Artistic Director and Principal Conductor since 2005. Eager works regularly with orchestras in Australia and Malaysia as well as in Britain and elsewhere. In the orchestra one recognises faces and names familiar from other orchestras, such as that of welsh national Opera or the BBC National Orchestra of Wales; there are distinguished instrumental teachers and academics from departments of music; members of established chamber groups, etc. This present concert was the last of a series of four Cardiff concerts under the title of ‘The Spirit of the Dance’, the previous concerts having included works by, inter alia, Stravinsky, Dowland, Grace Williams, Aaron Copland and John Metcalfe. The orchestra’s forthcoming programme includes concerts in a variety of venues around Wales, such as Llandudno, Milford Haven, Porthcawl, Betws-y-Coed and Caernafon. In many of these venues the orchestra will be conducting workshops and working with youth orchestras and schools (details can be found at www.welshsinfonia.co.uk). Their work is both valuable in the contribution it makes to the wider musical life of the community and – as evidenced by this concert – of genuine intrinsic quality.

Bartok’s Romanian Folk Dances (Sz.68) belong to 1917/18 and are an orchestral version the piano dances of 1915 (Sz.56). Bartok made few alterations to his sources in these dances, those sources being tunes he collected in Maros-Torda, Torontal, Bihar and Torda-Aranyos between 1910 and 1912. The Romanian folk music Bartok heard was often played by ensembles incorporating a number of different instruments, and perhaps it was that consideration that encouraged Bartok to make an orchestral version of his piano pieces. The results are colourful if ultimately rather slight; the dances worked well in place of the conventional overture in a programme which was essentially a variant on that old stand-by of concert programming: overture, concerto, symphony. From the very beginning, in the opening of the first piece, ‘Stick-Dance’, one was struck by the fullness of the orchestral string tone; in the second, here called ‘Waistband Dance’ but sometimes (preferably?) called ‘Sash Dance’, the work of the clarinets was impressive and there was a beguiling vivacity to the work of the orchestra as a whole; the piccolo writing (well interpreted) in ‘Stamping Dance’ (or ‘In One Spot’ as it is sometimes called) had a thoroughly exotic, quasi-Islamic feel to it and Robin Stowell’s solo contribution to ‘Horn Dance’ was authoritative and elegant; in short this was a fine opening and a sure-footed demonstration of the abilities of orchestra and conductor alike.

Our concerto was a world premiere: The Emoticons of Time by Eilir Owen Griffiths, for percussionist and chamber orchestra. Griffiths is currently a Music Tutor at Trinity University College, Carmarthen and is a busy (and respected) presence on the Welsh musical scene, as conductor (particularly of choirs) and composer. To call your work Emoticons, visual representations of simple emotional states, suggests that the representation of feeling will be emblematic rather than deeply exploratory. In a pre-concert talk, the composer described each of the movements of this new work as embodying “flashes” of emotion. The work’s conception, the composer explained, related to what was for some years a regular commute by rail from Taffs Well, just north of Cardiff, to and from Carmarthen west of Swansea. The five movements carry times of day as titles (and, with one exception, a subtitle too) and they mark the stages of such a working day, from 6.00 am (waking up) to 10.36 (marked “dream-like”). The percussion soloist was the excellent Dave Danford, whose performance followed this sequence – though the composer’s score allows the performers the freedom to play the movements in whatever order they wish. Danford is a virtuosic percussionist, but his virtuosity is allied to intelligence and sensitivity and he proved an admirable soloist in this pleasantly engaging and entertaining music, whether in the noisy and energetic music of ‘7.52 am Central Station’ (a movement brought to a close by the sound of the rail guard’s whistle) or in the peace of the closing movement, albeit a peace haunted by memories of the day’s earlier activities). Danford was called on to play marimbas, vibraphone, tom-toms, woodblock and drum kit and moved with ease, musically and physically alike, from instrument to instrument. As its title suggests this was not music of great profundity, but Griffiths’ fluent and inventive writing, not just for the soloist but also for the orchestra, made for attractive and enjoyable listening.

The most substantial part of the programme was to come. Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony got an intelligently-conducted vibrant performance, conceived and executed with an apt sense of scale and played with a high level of instrumental competence. Very occasionally there were imperfections of intonation and ensemble, but these were few and trivial, and were far outweighed by the rewards on offer. While the Welsh Sinfonia may be justly proud to designate itself a ‘Professional’ orchestra its virtues are also those of ‘amateurs’ in the highest sense of the word – people who do things out of love (rather than the mere pursuit of money). This was a rhythmically compelling performance, the ‘vivace’ of the first movement was exuberantly buoyant, the fortissimos crisp and forceful. The changed orchestral colours and the almost hypnotic rhythms of the allegretto were well realised, and there was a palpable sense of anxiety and grief in this remarkable movement. Such concerns were swept aside by the scherzo, the initial presto’s almost Dyonisiac joy is couched in music full of real technical demands and the orchestra’s negotiation of those demands was generally very impressive; the more dignified lyricism of the trio was also convincingly handled, and the sense of the dance was everywhere evident in this performance. The irrepressible energy of the finale, with its unexpected accents and rapid semiquavers, was thoroughly in evidence here, even if the performance didn’t quite have the kind of absolute muscular vigour that the movement ideally embodies. What was certainly communicated was the music’s almost ecstatic joy, the sense of a music seeming to strain at the very confines of logic and order (yet never truly transgressing those boundaries), swept along by its own momentum, a kind of endless self-generation of succeeding phrases, a carefully-created illusion of abandonment. This was a properly exciting performance of the work, a performance which would surely have made any listener understand Beethoven’s own comment that this was “one of the happiest products of [his] poor talents”. Any orchestra that can make the listener appreciate the weight of that remark is getting a lot right.

Glyn Pursglove