Manfred Honeck took on the role 
          of Music Director of the Swedish Radio Symphony Orchsetra in 2000. Frequent 
          visitors to the UK, the Swedish Radio Symphony Orchestra has obviously 
          garnered quite a following, if the packed audience was anything to go 
          by. Expectations must have been high; in the event, impressions were 
          decidedly mixed.
        
        Mozart’s carefully wrought textures 
          have a tendency to muddy in the Kensington Kavern anyway, so it was 
          a pity that they were not even carefully delineated in the first place. 
          Accents were blunted and ensemble was not always together, two traits 
          that made the exposition repeat in the first movement of Mozart No. 
          40 dispensable (the development was most welcome when it came). So often, 
          ensemble was almost together, but not quite.
        
        Honeck’s speed for the Andante 
          was extremely swift, projecting little peace. It was disquieting rather 
          than revelatory and Honeck’s decision, on occasion, to subdivide his 
          beat into six at this pulse simply looked clumsy and uncomfortable. 
          Minuet and Trio were taken at identical speeds and the final Allegro 
          assai rounded off a middle-of-the-road performance, serviceable but 
          ultimately non-descript.
        
        Things did, however, take a decided 
          turn for the better in Brahms’ well-loved Ein deuteches Requiem. 
          Smallish choral forces (no packing them up and beyond the organ loft 
          here) meant that Brahms’ magnificent part-writing could be enjoyed to 
          the full. The combination of expansive tempi with a light-toned choir 
          meant that the first movement (‘Selig sind’) had the feeling of an organic 
          unfolding, as natural and inevitable as could be.
        
        And these traits summed up much 
          of the rest of the performance. The second movement, ‘Denn alles Fleisch’, 
          which dwells on the transitory nature of life, carried a monumental 
          aspect that suited the Royal Albert Hall well. The big arrival at the 
          restatement of the opening lines of text, however, was impressive rather 
          than truly cataclysmic: a shame, given the evident care that had gone 
          into the dynamic gradations of the approaching crescendi.
        Peter Mattei, whose lovely sound 
          graced ‘Herr, lehre doch mich’, successfully managed to convey the difficult 
          balancing act of power harnessed to humility. In the sixth movement, 
          he shone, all but spitting out the final ‘k’ of ‘Augenblick’, his defiance 
          complete. 
        
        The soprano, Miah Persson, supported 
          by a very delicate accompaniment in ‘Ihr habt nun Traurigkeit’, 
          was perhaps not quite as ideal, not quite angelic enough in her Biblical 
          reassurances. Nevertheless, her singing was full of communicative power. 
          She is a young soprano with plenty of potential and I look forward very 
          much to hearing her again and charting her career course.
        
        A pity weak tenors marred the 
          final movement (when, musically, the piece turns full circle), but this 
          was not enough to blight a highly memorable account. Certainly much 
          more impressive than I had forecast after the Mozart.
        
        Colin Clarke