This was a well-balanced programme calculated to please:
– a little dose of not-too-long modern stuff, a romantic vocal work
featuring the British mezzo-of-the moment, and a safe Elgar Symphony
performed by the orchestra which premiered it – well, not the same players,
but you get the idea.
In the event, it turned out to be a remarkable concert
for two reasons, the first being the Hallé orchestra’s playing
of the Elgar under its chief conductor, and the second being the new
depths of idiocy plumbed by the audience – and not just the famously
daft Prommers. Yes, thank you, I’m very well aware that when most of
Mozart’s and Beethoven’s symphonies were first performed, it was the
common practice to indicate approval by applause after movements, and
that when Elgar’s 1st Symphony itself was premiered by the
Hallé under Hans Richter in 1908, there was a particularly enthusiastic
ovation after the third movement, but times have changed, and nowadays
any audience with the slightest claim to being aware and appreciative
does its best to keep any noise down between movements rather than creating
a cacophony. I have never heard such a disgraceful show as this audience
put up on Saturday night: the gentleman next to me was outraged by it,
fulminating ‘Where do these people come from?’ Well, I don’t know, but
what I do know is that something has to be done about this idiotic habit:
between each of the six parts of ‘Nuits d’Ete,’ and between each movement
of the symphony, there was quite loud applause which came from all sections
of the house, and it was quite obviously not applause that indicated
‘I’m just so carried away I have to clap’ but ‘Huh? Is it over? Suppose
we ought to clap now’. Is it too much to ask for a little reminder to
be given, both in the programme and perhaps when the reminder about
mobile phones is given, that it is the usual practice not to applaud
until the end of a work? The programme currently reminds us that ‘Mobile
phones wreck concerts, and so do digital alarms, eating, drinking, talking
and taking photographs.’ Yes, and so does ill-timed applause
Back to the music. This was the London premiere of
Colin Matthews’ ‘Vivo,’ a work which certainly lived up to its name
although this four-and-a-half minute piece really needed more time to
expand, particularly in the slower second part. I think of Matthews
as a composer for voice (erroneously, I know, in terms of the proportions
of vocal and instrumental music in his total oeuvre) and the singing
lines here recalled his major 1988 work ‘The Great Journey,’ set for
baritone and small orchestra. Matthews is Associate Composer with the
Hallé, a relationship which obviously has significant benefits
for both parties.
Alice Coote was probably the main draw of this concert
as far as most London concert-goers were concerned: those of us who
heard her as Poppea at the ENO in 2000 did not need to be informed that
she is a rising star, as the many writers who have rushed to ‘spot’
her over the last year have informed us. Some people know one when we
hear one, and you only have to experience a phrase sung in her ‘cello-like
tone to be aware that this is more than just a fine voice. That being
said, this evening did not represent her at her best: the vestiges of
a cold were clearly evident during some of the lower-lying music, and
she found it difficult to achieve the ethereal, floating tone which
she so clearly desired in such phrases as ‘Ci-gît une rose, /
Que tous les rois vont jalouser.’ Janet Baker will always be my benchmark
for this work, and of course it’s asking a lot of any singer to approach
her, but there were times during this performance, especially during
the first part and in ‘Absence’ when I did hear something of the kind
of hushed intensity which she brought to this music. Alice’s French
is not yet quite idiomatic, but then the same could be said of many
British singers who are far more experienced than she is, and her beautifully
shaped phrases, elegant sense of rhythm and poetic approach to the language
promised much. Mark Elder and the orchestra supported her with direction
of real warmth and nobility.
Elgar’s 1st Symphony is a work which the
Hallé could be said to have in its blood: it gave the first performance
under Richter in the Free Trade Hall, its musical home until 1996. Elgar
himself regarded Richard Strauss as the most significant composer of
his time, but Richter, not unexpectedly as the standard-bearer of Brahms
and Wagner, called this work ‘…the greatest symphony of modern times,
written by the greatest composer, and not only in this country.’ Artur
Nikisch called it ‘The Fifth of Brahms’ and that sounds right to me,
partly accounting for the fact that I have never had much affection
for it. However, on this occasion Elder and the Hallé gave it
so much feeling and subtlety that I almost changed my mind: that long,
slow opening which so often sounds utterly lugubrious without much point
in being so was here much closer to the ‘heavenly slowness’ of Schubert,
as was the superbly played Adagio. That D major theme is so full of
richness and melancholy, and the orchestra seemed to relish every bar:
I haven’t heard such lustre and eloquence in a string or woodwind section
since the Berlin Philharmonic last year. The final Allegro perhaps lacked
a little in terms of sparkle, but this hardly detracted from a performance
remarkable for its control, instrumental balance and sheer beauty of
tone.
Melanie Eskenazi
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