An Ode to Olly

Much has been made in the current Proms season of superstar visits from Gustavo Dudamel and Nigel Kennedy – and quite right too, for apart from their mere presence in the Royal Albert Hall they have asked pertinent questions about the music they have been performing.

However there has not been so much noise about an especially valuable asset of British musical life, the conductor and composer Oliver Knussen, whose health happily appears to be much improved these days. His program for Prom 19 with the BBC Symphony Orchestra, of whom he is 'Artist in Association', was characteristically imaginative – and though given to a small audience it strongly emphasised his worth to music from the 20th century and beyond.

Listening again to this Prom on the radio, I was struck by Knussen's easy conversations with Petroc Trelawny about the music. He spoke about Honegger's love of trains before opening with Pacific 231, then the similarity of Pastorale d’été to the theme from Dr Finlay’s Casebook, and later on provided a revealing nugget of how he and the composer Henri Dutilleux were strolling along the sea front at Aldeburgh. After moments of silence Dutilleux looked at the sea and exclaimed, "This is the sea that Debussy had in mind when he wrote La mer."

Such revealing asides helped put the concert in greater context, as did the linking of several threads through the beautifully performed program. We had Alpine scenes from Honegger – unusually relaxed for a piece in the musically reactionary 1920s – and from Castiglioni, whose Inverno in-ver was an extraordinary piece of frostbitten cold for the upper registers of the orchestra, given a bright metallic glare through a battery of percussion.

Fascinating, too, was the vivid Bridge tone poem There is a Willow Grows Aslant a Brook, before the three songs on wine set by Berg to Baudelaire poems, Der Wein showing once again how Knussen and the soprano Claire Booth work so well together.

This was not the first time Knussen had produced a radical program, however – he has been thriving on these sorts of concerts for years. One of the highlights of the 2007 Proms season was his Rite of Spring, coupled with Schoenberg’s Five Orchestral Pieces , the world premiere of his Violin Concerto and Henze’s Sebastian im Traum . That same season he conducted the Birmingham Contemporary Music Group, successfully reading the collective minds of the audience by repeating Webern’s Five Orchestral Pieces.

The point of these examples is to show that right now there is nobody quite so bold in their programming as Knussen – and his interpretations offer a composer’s insights to boot, often shedding new light on familiar music or revealing hidden masterpieces, as in the Castiglioni. To watch him conduct is to see somebody completely shunning the spotlight for the music’s sake – and the BBC Symphony Orchestra clearly get as much out of their partnership as he does. More power to his elbow!

Two Boys - a new age of opera?

Two Boys - composed by Nico Muhly and directed by Craig Lucas

ENO @ Coliseum, London

Two Boys can be awarded the distinction of being the first 'internet opera'. Much of its dialogue and timeline is set in cyberspace, the Coliseum transformed into an enormous chat room, the audience voyeurs to a particularly dark series of events. The plot, however, is a more traditional whodunit – one that would not be out of place in an ITV crime drama. The comparison doesn’t stop there either, for as so often happens in these two part thrillers, the first part sets the scene – only to undo a fair bit of its good work with over eager story signposts in the second.

By no means is this production a complete failure, however. The internet may not emerge with a good reputation, but the allure of its late 1990s promise is vividly portrayed by Nico Muhly and Craig Lucas, aided by animations and projections from 59 Productions. Their depiction of internet traffic is one of the highlights of the first half, accompanied as it is by opulent orchestration from the composer. It is one of the genuinely affirming moments of a half that generates considerable tension as the plot rises.

The main characters are successful rather than outstanding. Nicky Spence dons a Manchester City shirt as Brian, a football –loving teenager who ends up pitched some way between Harry Enfield's character Kevin and Philip Seymour Hoffman in Happiness. Led astray by online temptation, he falls under the spell of a number of different characters, all of which have something to do with fellow teenager Jake, given deceptive choirboy innocence by Joseph Beesley. Presiding over the two boys and their criminal activities is Susan Bickley's detective inspector Anne Rawson, wearily effective but no Jane Tennyson, despite the bottle in the office desk.

The use of text speak as the two boys become acquainted is sometimes clunky but otherwise authentic – the 'c u tomorrow' and 'omg' references are there as a representation of internet shorthand rather than for cheap laughs – and the chat room sessions bring an unusual if uneven tension to the plot in the first half. In the second they are more obviously stage managed as the mystery becomes clear to everyone but Rawson, oblivious to the internet and its inner workings.

What the plot cries out for is a distinctive and dramatic score, yet this is something only fitfully glimpsed in Nico Muhly's vocal and orchestral writing. When things are bad this is not a problem, as rasping tubas and rolling percussion are on hand to add a much-needed edge, but during the conversation scenes the music drags, looking for melodic inspiration to add to its silvery and often attractive orchestration, but rarely finding more than some attractive loops and rhythms. Muhly's admiration of Britten, Glass and Adams is evident – though after a while the mind is led to wonder what Britten himself might have done with a plot such as this.

Two Boys is a brave attempt to bring the Internet to dramatic life, an ambitious subject for a first opera from a 29 year old composer who fitfully realises the promise shown in other vocal works such as Impossible Things. He will surely go on to make more accomplished work for the stage, but for now has laid down a marker on which to build.

Barenboim and Boulez in Liszt and Wagner, Royal Festival Hall

Daniel Barenboim, Berlin Staatskapelle / Pierre Boulez
@ Royal Festival Hall, London, 13 June 2011

An irresistible combination of performers took to the stage for the latest instalment in the Royal Festival Hall's Shell Classic International season – and threw curious shades of light on the Liszt bicentenary celebrations in the process.

While Daniel Barenboim may have played the music of the composer for many decades, Pierre Boulez is not known for his pedigree in Liszt, save for some isolated performances of the symphonic poems. Yet perhaps surprisingly it was Barenboim's contribution to the two piano concertos that made for some communal head scratching come the concert's close, despite the standing ovation.

The first concerto, which ended an enterprising examination of Liszt's relationship with Wagner, a close friend, was the most difficult to understand. The opening felt constricted in tempo, and Barenboim's first statement on the piano was laboured in tempo, giving not the impression of a virtuoso bursting out of the blocks, but one holding up the progress of the music, and its momentum, in the process.

There were many fine things about this interpretation, but they derived principally from the orchestra, with a succession of gorgeous solos from flute, oboe and clarinet in the slower music. Barenboim played with great skill and finesse, but the sense of unbuttoned energy that Liszt's fast music so often conveys remained at arm's length.

The second concerto was similarly constricted at times but was generally more successful, the arrival at its crowning march theme bringing with it a far more stirring outcome. While the work has a curious structure it is notably forward looking in its harmonic language and in the relationship between piano and orchestra. Boulez especially enjoyed these aspects; despite Barenboim's instinct to conduct what is after all his own orchestra. Oh to be a fly on the wall in rehearsal!

While the two piano concertos had their interpretative issues, Wagner's Siegfried-Idyll and Faust Overture were on far more secure ground. The former especially was gorgeous, the orchestra of 30 exactly double the size employed by the composer to serenade his wife, Cosima, on Christmas Day in 1870. The sound was heavenly, Boulez controlling the seamless melodies as they unfurled with delightful restraint, concentrating on purity of line and texture.

This provided a satisfying contrast with the Faust Overture, which showcased the orchestra’s lean and earthy sound through a performance that crackled with atmosphere. Wagner is not associated with Faust normally but was obsessed by Goethe's tale at an early age. The Overture, something of a collection of themes intended for a longer symphony, provided good, old fashioned Romanticism, with Boulez showing that even at the age of 85, he remains no slouch in the conducting department.

A fascinating evening of music making, then, and a privilege to see two of the greatest classical musicians alive take the stage together, even though their combined music making raised more questions than it did answers.

Khachaturian revived

It is fair to say that the music of Aram Khachaturian has fallen off the radar rather on disc in recent years. That doesn't necessarily mean its popularity overall has diminished, for a lot of this music remains popular due to exposure in films and on television, but there is a genuine space in the catalogue for a modern digital recording that can give these scores the colourful interpretations they need.

That space can now be considered closed, thanks to the second recording in partnership from the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra and their new principal conductor Kirill Karabits, who has made his own selections from Spartacus and Gayaneh to comfortably fill a single disc. Karabits is a charismatic Ukranian, relatively young for a conductor at 34, but one who has the measure of these stage works and their potential.

You only have to head straight to the Adagio of Spartacus and Phrygia to see what I mean, with some lovely, opulent textures, perhaps not hitting the full intensity of the composer's red blooded recording with the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra, but swooning gracefully nonetheless.

It is actually in the less familiar music that these recordings fully prove their worth. During Spartacus the violins are beautifully poised, nowhere more so than in the Adagio of Aegina and Harmodius, and the charming Variation that follows. In the Dance of the Gadiatnian Maidens it is easier to trace Khachaturian's musical heritage to Mussorgsky as the orchestra responds to a mellow clarinet solo, before Karabits revs the orchestra's engine to a thrilling climax. The Scene and Dance with Crotala, meanwhile, trips along attractively, the melodies always to the fore but with a glassy clarity in the recording that suits the music well. Any more clarity and it would be spotlit, but the engineers seem to have got this one just right.

Gayaneh proves every bit as enjoyable, the raucous Lezginka shaking a leg, while the inflections of the violins' melodies in the Carpet embroidery scene are brilliantly turned. Aysha's Monologue swings nicely, the violins enjoying their melodic freedom. Just occasionally there is too much reverb in numbers such as the Scene and Dance, where the brass sound as if they are up the other end of a large room. Definition in the Sword Dance, which most people know as the Sabre Dance, is very fine, the excitement levels high throughout.

These are just the sort of recordings scores like Spartacus and Gayaneh need, with vivid orchestral colours and interpretations that are packed with charm, wit and rhythmic bounce. As such they are hugely rewarding.

Spending time with Mozart

For the last 12 days, my musical New Year diet has consisted of little more than Mozart. It was never going to be possible to donate 100% of my time to his music over this period, but other than necessary diversions (British Sea Power, Hindemith, Fujiya & Miyagi and Anna Calvi) the vast majority has been spent in the company of Wolfgang Amadeus.

The reason for this intensive study is BBC Radio 3's Genius of Mozart season, a 12 day project playing every note the composer penned on the radio. Previously the Beeb have subjected the likes of Bach, Beethoven, Webern and a memorable double act of Stravinsky and Tchaikovsky to this intensive treatment, yet the chance to hear this applied to Mozart didn’t grab me initially.

The problem – with me, at any rate – seems one borne of respect rather than love. It is easy to appreciate Mozart's genius, either through wide-eyed wonder that he had written more than 20 symphonies by the end of his teens, or through his mastery of form, instrumentation, harmony and above all melody.

Yet if you asked me who I liked more, Haydn or Mozart, Haydn would win almost every time. Finding reasons for this is difficult, but in the end I prefer his wit, his profusion of melody and above all the sense that his really is music for the people.

That said Radio 3's festival has reaffirmed some Mozart works in my mind. Few late night treats can equal listening to the Gran Partita, the serenade for 13 wind instruments. None of the piano concertos, especially no.9 and upwards of the teens, are found wanting, and the symphonies remain incredibly involving too. For me the performance of no.39 from the ever capable Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment was easily the best performance of the week.

Some Mozart I can take or leave, which isn't meant to sound dismissive and arrogant, but to say that it functions as intended – as background music - or doesn't always move me. Some of the Divertimenti (save the String Trio masterpiece) and the serenades fall into this category, while some early works do feel as if they are going through the motions. The piano sonatas, too, I find largely functional, though they retain the capability to surprise when you least expect them to.

The real winners, for me, have been found within the chamber music, which can totally absorb the mind. Each of the 'Haydn' quartets is a delight, as are the four mature String Quintets, one of the forms that Mozart truly pioneered. Also proving unexpectedly magnetic were shorter works for piano, including the Rondo in A minor K511 and the Fantasy in D minor K397. Both seem to generate the extra intensity Mozart found when working in a minor key, which can also be said of the Adagio and Fugue in C minor K546, for string quartet.

As yet Mozart's operas remain beyond my reach - the problem most certainly my end rather than the composer's, as I continue to strip away at my previous indifference to classical opera. But for now, the chamber music will do just fine.

I have grouped together some of my favourite Mozart from this intriguing series, in the form of a Spotify playlist:
The Genius of Mozart

2010 - a year in pop

So what sort of a year has 2010 been for pop music?

A pretty damn good one, actually – so much so that even if the year had stopped on January 31st I would have still had a number of credible contenders for my album of the year.

As it turns out that was an easy honour for me to assign – but before I do that, a bit about the music I've enjoyed listening to this year. Apologies in advance for mentioning so many records, but I don't want any to lose out!

As far as I'm concerned it's been a great year for electronica, from established producers to new names on the block. Four Tet's There Is Love In You put down a mark for its blissful textures right in the first few weeks, while his mate Caribou came up trumps with Swim, a warm weather treat if ever there was one.

The real finds for me, though, were Pantha du Prince, whose Black Noise album on Rough Trade is a real thing of beauty, incorporating Alpine field recordings to shimmering techno textures, and Jaga Jazzist, who threw everything but the kitchen sink into the space rock and energetic, Reich-influenced funk of One Armed Bandit, stood back and admired the results.

My new discoveries in this field were Reboot, a production talent whose strength lies in the street sounds and sample clips he places in the middle background of his work, Shunyata. Also Clara Moto, who does likewise to fuller house music beats in Polyamour but is equally original and atmospheric. Meanwhile Luke Abbott has been able to make picture postcard sketches of his Norfolk habitat and set them to softly voiced electronic rhythms on Holkham Drones.

Several dance groups made convincing comebacks. Hot Chip made us blush with the masculine romanticism of One Life Stand, while Daft Punk showed off their prowess as orchestrators on the Tron Legacy soundtrack, really packing a punch when its latent tension gets released. Massive Attack showed their pretenders once again how to make a great album, with Heligoland using more guests than might normally be the case, but playing to their strengths each time. Yet perhaps the best album in this field came from Gorillaz, Plastic Beach a statement of the importance of environmental and international unity as well as containing some damn good songs. Bobby Womack's turn on Stylo was not bettered at any point vocally.

Compilation wise I couldn't look further than Ninja XX, their 20th anniversary compilation, with its mass of essential new songs and tracks. In terms of a DJ mix Ewan Pearson's We Are Proud Of Our Choices was by some distance the best, a hypnotic blend of deep house and techno that moved seamlessly and inexorably forward. Other labels performing strongly in this field were Cr2, who took on the Café Mambo series with ease as well as pumping out some excellent party stuff with the MYNC Project. Bedrock still have the nod on tune selection in their field thanks to John Digweed, and their 12th anniversary comp is a bruising triumph. Brownswood, on their fifth instalment of Bubblers compilations, showcased a wealth of original talent.

So what of rock and pop? Well it's not been too shabby there either – and that's where my album of the year comes in. Before that I should wax lyrical on the talents of Everything Everything, whose Man Alive is an adventurous treat both musically and lyrically, Foals, who build impressively on the promise of their first album with Total Life Forever, and James Yuill, who charmed us once again with the winsome sentiments of Movement In A Storm. Special mention, though should go to Edwyn Collins, making an utterly triumphant return with Losing Sleep. Winners, too, were Mystery Jets – brilliant songwriting and uplifting choruses – and School of Seven Bells, bringing shoegaze a new set of wonderful harmonies to enjoy.

And the record of the year? I could tell you exactly where I was when I first heard Gayngs' Relayted – on the train from Cambridge to London. It made me sit up slowly and take notice, before singing into a glorious reverie. It really has been like nothing else I've heard this year, and on paper it shouldn't work. Born out of an obsession with 10CC's I'm Not In Love, it doesn't deviate from 69 beats per minute. Yet it does work, and the cover of Godley & Creme's 'Cry' is the single most beautiful piece of new music I've heard this year.

Onwards and upwards to 2011 we go then, though I'll pen a classical retrospective shortly. I can tell you though, I've already heard a candidate for the best pop album of next year!

Small Craft On A Milk Sea

It's been a while since we heard anything from Brian Eno in a solo capacity, and I suspect his new album, 'Small Craft On A Milk Sea', is the closest we will get, recorded as it is with friends and musical disciples Jon Hopkins and Leo Abrahams.

The cover gives away a lot of clues to the musical content, a bleak, weather-beaten landscape akin to the planet Mars. Eno wants his listeners to imagine a film that would go with the music – a kind of addition to the 'Music for Films' project in that sense. Sure enough it proves very easy to achieve this sensation, especially if listening on surround sound or headphones.

Yet there is more – and it isn't necessarily what you might expect. The sound pictures, though often disparate, are carefully structured within the context of the album, so that there is a gradual build-up of intensity. The ambience of the beginning doesn't feel comfortable for long, its initially soothing sonorities twisting into foreboding harmonies, as if an explosion is imminent.

The storm arrives in 'Horse' and '2 Forms Of Anger', the sixth track, with the scenery suddenly hurrying past at breakneck speed, emotions fraught and close to losing control. Then, almost as soon as it arrived, the storm is past. This makes the album almost like an inverse hurricane, its eye a seething cauldron of sound.

It's this that makes 'Small Craft On A Milk Sea' so compelling, as the following ambient interludes are far from comfortable and often hint at a second wind. As an overall structure it is proof positive that ambient music can be so much more than the sum of its parts, and it provides confirmation too that Eno remains at the top of his game.