A Carry on in Krakow (Susan Elkin reviews)

Kleio Quartet
Levinsky Hall, Plymouth University
 09 November 2024

I have had the pleasure of seeing and hearing the Kleio Quartet before. Since then they have become
increasingly well-known and have won awards all over Europe as well as the UK. Recently they have
been chosen by Radio 3 to join the New Generation Artist programme .

This is no surprise. This all-female quartet, featuring Juliette Roos, Katherine Yoon, Yume Fujise and
Eliza Millett take on challenging works and this concert was no exception. As promised by Robert Taub at last
month’s concert, Bela Bartok is honoured throughout this season’s programme. Joining Bartok in this
programme were Henry Purcell and Maurice Ravel, whose work featured here would probably have been
the most familiar to the audience.

Purcell’s Fantasia No 4 in F major, No 6 in E major and No 7 in G major opened the programme. All
of these are relatively short works, with multiple movements and changes of pace and mood. The
togetherness of the musicians, their total concentration as they steer through those changes, show how
sensitively alert to their companions they are. Each section of the music itself has its own shape,
separating the sounds of the four instruments and then coming together in unison to mark an ending.
There are wonderful chromatic climbs, instruments interweaving cleverly and then coming together in
delicious closure in the pacier sections, with tender dwelling on the lengthier sounds in the slower ones.
The quartet’s balance of the instruments is superb, enhanced by their obvious enjoyment and empathy
with their fellow musicians.

Bartok’s String Quartet No 5 followed the Purcell. Not as strange a coupling as it may seem since both
composers, though centuries apart in time, feature counterpoint and moments of deliberate crunching
dissonance.

I have found that listening to Bartok requires enormous concentration and this pays off as it reveals so
much of his method, of the extraordinary swing between his background of Hungarian peasant songs
and rhythms and his broad understanding of Western European harmonies plus the brasher, jazz
influenced music of the United States.

The piece is tremendously testing for the four musicians, who rose to the challenge wonderfully, their
whole bodies responding to the strong bowing required and the changes of pace and mood. The
hobbledehoy peasant rhythms give way to wistful melodies; the scurrying speed of some sections,
climbing and falling, give way to urgent emphatic single notes. Concentration from the players, necessary
always of course, here shows in the alert tension of their bodies, the give and take between all four, as
the piece is taken over first by one instrument, then by another – each having its say. The result of this
give and take between the four is playful and the contrasts in the whole work are breathtaking and
memorable. The second movement, for instance, is atmospheric, mysterious, both sad and beautiful,
even other-worldly in mood and the fourth movement, also slow as opposed to the first, third and fifth,
which are full of those scurrying runs, is like a wander through a glade, darkened by trees, full of bird-like
twitters, animals listening with twitching ears and running to escape danger till we are returned to peace.
It is certainly because of the skill of the musicians themselves that I was drawn into a memorable
experience which will stay with me for a long time and which has created an interest and perhaps a
deeper understanding of Bartok as a composer.

Ravel’s String Quartet, written in 1903, ended the evening’s programme, after the interval. A total
contrast to the first two pieces, we are instantly immersed in the image of a lush sunny meadow, full of
burgeoning flowers. The mood is idyllic as the baton of peaceful beauty passes from one instrument to
another, with similar melodic phrasing. Even the occasional ripple of unrest that stirs the mood does not
last long for each instrument in turn insists on imposing peace against the stirring of unrest that the other
three project. Strokes of the bows become longer and deeper as the dream takes hold. In this piece,
whereas with the Bartok a fierce concentration among the players dominated, the player’s faces reflect
the beauty of the phrases they have been given. The second movement features plucked notes against
beautiful melodies which lead into a slow and dreamy third movement, gradually speeding up until it ends
with a flourish. Finally the last movement begins with a sombre viola against tremolos from all three of
the others. This movement is more restless, full of delightful little hiccupping phrases that interrupt the
flow and ending with a lumpy uneven rhythm that perhaps mimics the ecstatic uneven running of a small
child, exploring the natural world around him.

To be there at this concert with these young talented players was a truly wonderful experience. I loved
the way they finished each movement with a slow or fast (depending on the pace of the previous
movement)  flourish of their bows. This enabled the audience to remain in the mood they had just
created. Go and see this quartet if you possibly can. They are clearly destined for a great future.

Nuremberg Symphony Orchestra

Jonathan Darlington (conductor)

Federico Colli (piano)

Cadogan Hall

14 November 2024

Part of Cadogan Hall’s  Zurich International Orchestra Series, this concert presented three glorious nineteenth century masterpieces played by a German orchestra with a British conductor and Italian soloist so the spirit of European internationalism was alive and well.

And the atmosphere was festive. Nuremberg Symphony Orchestra favours a formal entrance and taking a bow before they sit down unlike most British Orchestras which tend to drift on piecemeal and then do last minute snippets of practice on stage while they wait. That party spirit was further enhanced by Colli’s witty choice of encore (Mozart’s delightful 12 Variations on Ah! Vous Dirai-je Maman aka Twinkle Twinkle Little Star) and the orchestra’s final end-of-concert bon-bon: an orchestral arrangement of Elgar’s Salut D’Amour with a gorgeously nostalgic solo from leader, Anna Reszniak. Marvellous, by the way, to hear a German orchestra affectionately playing Elgar. Sir Edward had many German friends and was heartbroken when war broke out in 1914.

The concert began with Weber’s Overture to Der Freischutz. It’s a jolly piece of many parts and moods and this performance was distinguished by some fine horn playing and lots of interestingly exaggerated dramatic contrasts. Darlington is an excitable conductor, often shaking all over in rhythm, his thick white hair bouncing but it gets him the results he wants.

Then came Grieg’s famous piano concerto played by Federico Colli, an exceptionally charismatic pianist to watch, on an instrument – sensibly – already in position from the start of the concert. It’s quite a challenge to make a hoary old warhorse of this sort sound fresh and arresting but this performance rose to it in spades. Colli played the first movement cadenza with sparkling originality including unusual stresses and very fluid rubato which created a stunned stillness, as everyone present (including the players) listened so actively you could feel it in the air. Colli is a visible listener too as we saw at the beautifully played opening to the adagio before his own melody cuts across the legato strings. The end of the adagio was lovely too – it leads ataca into the Allegro third movement but Colli and Darlington carefully let the sound linger in the air before the mood change. Colli played all those chirpy contrasts in the last movement with weight and colour too especially when we reached the grandiloquent conclusion.

And so to Brahms 4, arguably his finest symphony, which came after the interval. The opening allegro abounded with Brahmsian melodic warmth and some incisve pizzicato. Darlington is very good at coaxing exceptional richness from lower strings. He also did well with the delicate lyricism of the adagio making sure we heard the counterpoint in the strings which often slips past unnoticed.

The third movement, a scherzo in all but name, was delivered with all the lively joy it requires, with triangle and piccolo prominent. The principal bassoon (Jappe Dendievel), whose part is quite prominent was almost dancing. It’s infectiously uplifiting to see professional players evidently enjoying – really enjoying – their work.

I once heard the late Antony Hopkins (the musicologist, not the actor), a great educator, leading a concert hall full of children through this symphony. The opening chords in the final movement, he suggested with mild irreverence, might be saying B-R-A-H-M-S-Spells-Brahms. And I’ve never been able to listen to it since without thinking of that. (It works. Try it.) The Nuremberg Symphony Orchestra and Darlington probably weren’t intoning Hopkins in their heads but played it with verve.

Royal Philharmonic Orchestra

City of London Choir

Daniel Hyde (conductor)

Rachel Nicholls (soprano), Marta Fontanals-Simmons (mezzo), Michael Lafferty (tenor), Thomas Humphreys (baritone)

With Mozart’s Requiem as its post-interval centre piece, this was an imaginatively programmed concert. The first half comprised two takes on Goethe’s Calm Sea and Prosperous Voyage poems: first the familiar Mendelssohn overture and then the much less familiar Beethoven cantata which inspired the young Mendelssohn. Tucked in between them was Mozart’s Exultate, jubilate so there was plenty for the choir to do.

Mendelssohn’s overture is a challenging concert opener because the first section is so understated and exposed but it was played here with attractive sweetness and a lot of control while still sounding fluid. And when the ship really set sail, Hyde delivered all those  cheerful Mendelssohn-ian melodies with plenty of joie de vivre. Full marks to timps and trumpets.

Exultate, jubilate is effectively a concerto for voice and it’s a treat to hear all three movements because so often we just get the third movement extracted. Rachel Nicholls, who is also City of London Choir’s voice coach, sang it with operatic warmth although the orchestra was sometimes too loud so that some of her lower notes were drowned out. She is a richly communicative singer and the musical rapport between her, Hyde and the choir was palpable.

City of London Choir is a fine ensemble – with seating in Cadogan Hall’s fairly limited space, spread onto the side balconies as well as behind the orchestra which helped to create a rounded sound. The singing in both Beethoven’s movements was enjoyably incisive.

And so the glories of Mozart’s Requiem. This was quite a large orchestra for a Mozart piece and, arguably, Sussmayr’s orchestration is too thick for the text in places. Nonetheless it was a real joy to hear the usually unnoticed trombone work cutting though the fugal Kyrie. And in general Hyde balanced choir and orchestra so that it felt coherent.

High spots included lots of pointed-up loving detail in the off-beat string passages in Tuba Mirum and nicely blended quartet singing. Thomas Humphreys and Marta Fontanals-Simmons work particularly well together especially in Recordare which also shone for the cello solo. Hyde found appealing choral colour in Confutatis too particularly from the sopranos whose gentle vulnerability was a good dramatic contrast to the men’s opening.

All in all it was pleasing performance of a well known and much loved piece. And does it matter that the dying Mozart didn’t write most of it? No, I’m just thankful someone did.

photograph of Rachel Nicholls by David Shoukry

Folkestone Symphony

Holy Trinity Church, Folkestone

09 November 2024

Conductor: Rupert Bond

Viola: Robin Ashwell

Folkestone Symphony, more formally known as Folkestone and Hythe Orchestral Society, chose a hugely ambitious programme for this concert but, by and large, they carried if off with aplomb.

We began with Listz’s Les Preludes which opens with some promising, pizzicato chords, perfectly timed under the baton of Rupert Bond, who has recently celebrated 10 years with the orchestra. Full or colours and moods, it’s not an easy work to deliver but Bond found lots of drama with some excellent heavy brass moments in the storm – resonating well in the lofty acoustic of Holy Trinity. The dramatic cymbal clashes at the end were fun too.

Thence to Arnold Bax’s 1921 Phantasy for Viola and Orchestra. Written for Lionel Tertiss, it was originally called a concerto which – three movements played attaca – it clearly is. It was, I suspect as new to the majority of the players as it was to most of the audience. Robin Ashwell, violist in the Sacconi Quartet, played it beautifully, leaning on all the mellow folksiness that the piece is full of. The lento section – with viola, horns and lower strings – was particularly lovely with Ashwell presenting plenty of lyrical, tuneful Irish flavour. Bax, apparently was an enthusiastic hibernophile despite being born in South London.

And so to the Symphonie Fantastique which requires massive forces and barely fitted into the space. As it was the double basses were tucked under an arch, almost in a side chapel, and the percussion section was placed right back on the other side in a side aisle. The tubular bells were behind the raking in the chancel so that they were invisible to the audience. Yet, somehow, Bond held it together through those five gruelling movements, parts of which always sound to me as if they were written a century later rather then in 1830, just six years after the composition of Beethoven’s ninth and last symphony.

Although the upper string sound was wispy in places, especially at the beginning – even five desks of first violins was not enough – there were some terrific moments in this performance.  The exuberant valse was as lilting as it should be, with some finely judged rubato, dynamic shading and outstanding work from principal flautist, John Hall. And the adagio was splendid with some delightful, very exposed, playing from Hilary Sell on cor anglais.  Assisted by the acoustic, Bond made the end of the adagio with the timp rolls sound really quite creepy as this extraordinary work gets ever more “fantastique”. Next, in the allegretto tubas were produced from their hiding places in the chancel and we bounced into the symphony’s increasing eccentric originality with some good bassoon work.

Berlioz regarded this, his most famous work, as a piece of programme music and left detailed notes which are not, in my view, always helpful. He does, however, explain the madness of the final movement which is a “Dream of a Witch’s Sabbath”. And what fun Folkestone Symphony had with the funeral bells, terrifying piccolo and screeching chords, By then the orchestra was fully warmed up and playing very well indeed – with no sign of the tiredness which they must, surely, have felt at the end of this manic marathon.