IN MEMORIAM JULIAN BREAM

CRAIG OGDEN AT BROMSGROVE SCHOOL

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No question, Julian Bream was this country’s greatest guitarist. He elevated this humble supporting accessory into an estimable instrument in its own right, exploring the repertoire not just from the Spanish staples, but back right through to the riches of the English lutenists as well as commissioning works from every one of our greatest composers.

Many of those from both periods were represented in this triumphant recital promoted in Bream’s memory by Bromsgrove Concerts with the aid of the RVW Trust in that composer’s sesquicentenary year, and given by Bromsgrove favourite Craig Ogden, who admitted to us how listening to Bream had inspired him in so much of his own work.

Ogden brought two guitars, one reflecting the tuning of the ancient lute (as he so illuminatingly explained and illustrated), the other, “normal” one set up as usual for the Bream-commissioned contemporary works.

Shakespeare’s colleague Robert Johnson was represented by his Almain, Ogden deftly bringing out the antiphony of its almost-vocal lines. And from Johnson’s great contemporary John Dowland we heard an atmospheric, almost improvisatory Praeludium, a Fantasia no.7 which was a roller-coaster of lute technique, and all the cadential flourishes of the

Lachrimae Pavan, to be glorified over three centuries later by Benjamin Britten, whose other homage to Dowland concluded this evening’s programme.

From Bream’s contemporary commissions, we began with the flowingly lyrical Sonatina by Lennox Berkeley, quintessentially English and Gallic elements, and with more than a hint of flamenco.

Walton’s Five Bagatelles, so idiomatically textured under the eagle eye of Bream himself, were a joy of bittersweet, rapt delicacy, sometimes Satie-esque, ending with the final movement’s cumulative energy. Very different were the musings of Richard Rodney Bennett’s Five Impromptus, fascinating in their characterisations, and so adeptly delivered by Ogden.

Finally came the masterpiece which is Britten’s Nocturnal, built upon the structural template of his much earlier Les Illuminations and Variations on a Theme of Frank Bridge, various genre-movements gradually moving towards a characteristic Passacaglia (one of Britten’s favourite forms) in which the insistent descending scale built in intensity towards an eventual statement of Dowland’s “Come, heavy Sleep”.

CBSO SYMPHONY HALL ***** HHHHH

CHRISTOPHER MORLEY

We got three orchestras for the price of one in this amazing offering from an on-fire CBSO.

What we all recognise as a great ensemble (which we sometimes risk taking for granted) has the capacity to turn on even more greatness under the right conductor, and the players certainly did so here under the eloquent, clear baton of the orchestra’s chief conductor-elect, Kazuki Yamada.

The musicians obviously love him, and he them, and this matinee audience joined in with warm, prolonged applause. It was a joy to see such genuine delight on the players’ faces, knowing now that they have a music director settling into his task with such enthusiasm, as well as a concertmaster, Eugene Tzikindelean, bringing such distinction to his role.

This was a mouthwatering programme with Mozart as its pivot, preceded by the Don Juan of Richard Strauss, and succeeded by the Fourth Symphony of Gustav Mahler.

Don Juan burst in with a rich sound, full of vitality, yet Yamada was also able to create a sweetness of texture in the more intimate episodes which looked forward to Der Rosenkavalier. And the strings leapt and exulted in their own right, whilst gently accompanying persuasive solos from, for example, oboe and clarinet.

After this all, this adolescent Romantic testosterone, two arias by Mozart found a reduced orchestra perfectly attuned to the crisp, direct quality of sound such searching music requires. The wonderful Egyptian soprano Fatma Said was soloist, bursting straight into character in “Vado, ma dove?”, her phrasing easy and fluent with a voice never over-projecting. She was similarly dramatic in “Non piu di Fiori” from La Clemenza di Tito, with no need for us to glue ourselves to the printed text. Here we relished the guttural bite of her lowest ranges, as well as the gorgeous basset-horn obbligato of Oliver Janes.

Yamada introduced us charmingly to Mahler’s Fourth Symphony, hinting at images of Santa Claus and spooky violins, before proceeding to direct an account which showed brave confidence in his players in the breadth of his unfolding, his chamber-like rubato, and the silent eloquence of his pauses. Here we had an orchestral response which was both analytical, anticipating the Second Viennese School, and heartfelt.

He revealed so much detail here, some of it never noticed by me before after nearly 60 years of loving this masterpiece, and drew so much expressive virtuosity from the musicians. Tzikindelean certainly, not least in the solo violin’s second movement dance of death, horns repeating their Don Juan triumphs, bassoons bringing a range of colour and articulation, but also, among many others, the crucial contributions of the double-basses.

Fatma returned for the concluding Child’s View of Heaven, her body-language demurely appealing, her tone pure and focussed. I was so pleased that, like me, she seemed so concerned about the poor little lamb being led to slaughter.

CHRISTOPHER MORLEY

CBSO

SYMPHONY HALL HHHHI

By the time young American conductor Ryan Bancroft had reached the last triumphant bars of Sibelius’s second symphony I was so engrossed in this dynamic performance I’d become unaware of wearing a face-mask.

Bancroft didn’t try to reverse-engineer the symphony, seeking out early intimations of the austere, mystical, enigmatic late Sibelius of ‘Tapiola’ and the seventh symphony. His was a big-boned, big hearted romantic approach – not unlike vintage Barbirolli – full of drama, rich sonorities and eager to seize on Sibelius’s ‘ma rubato’ indication in the Andante. What a movement that it is, right from it’s opening spooky, crepuscular low-string pizzicati articulated crisply by the CBSO’s cello and bass sections. The symphony’s climax, built unerringly by Bancroft on a foundation of timpani and brass, underpinned by Graham Sibley’s Fafner-like tuba, was overwhelming.

Timpani and trumpets excelled in ColeridgeTaylor’s ‘Solemn Prelude’, rescued last year from obscurity at the Three Choirs Festival – 122 years after its premiere. The solemnity came in emphatic fanfares which alternated with a lyrical string-and-wind melody, the two blended together for a satisfyingly easeful close. Genuine Mendelssohn, his Violin

Concerto in E minor, came from German violinist Clara-Jumi Kang who excelled in the lively freewheeling finale and the song-withoutwords slow movement. I found the Allegro under-powered, definitely not ‘molto appassionato’.

NORMAN STINCHCOMBE