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.

The Lied and how to sing it

For some five years now I have been a regular attendee at the Wigmore Hall of a Monday lunchtime, taking in the BBC Radio 3 concert of the day. The standard of chamber music making is consistently high, but what has been relatively new to me in this period is the world of classical song.

Early on I really struggled with vocal or operatic classical music. "A lot of shouting in a foreign language" is how I heard opera described on the radio once, and that stayed with me for a long time as I struggled to get past the barrier of not knowing the words or, worse, not being able to hear them. And now, thanks largely to the Wigmore concerts, things have changed.

A composer's songs are, perhaps not surprisingly, among the most expressive parts of their output, and it is amazing how helpful it is to either follow the text or preview it beforehand, perhaps along with a synopsis of the piece itself.

My gradual thawing through the world of song has its roots in England and France. A study of Benjamin Britten's 'Serenade for tenor, horn and strings' at university revealed this incredibly emotional music, beautifully structured and orchestrated, with plenty of room given for Peter Pears to project the words. A few years later for a birthday present I was given Anne Sofie von Otter's album 'La Bonne Chanson', and loved the Ravel setting of three Mallarmé settings – more, it has to be said, for the instrumental colour, but gradually the wonderful voice above it shone through.

Yet it's the Wigmore concerts that have really made the difference, and have gradually opened my eyes to the writing of the 'Lied' composers, Schubert, Schumann and Wolf especially.

Five of those concerts really stick out in my mind. Firstly Mark Padmore, singing 'Winter Words' in a way that brought through Britten's stunning Hardy settings, vividly pictorial. Then Gerald Finley sang a concert of Schumann and Grieg, concentrating on settings of the poet Heinrich Heine, and giving a remarkable account of the former composer's 'Belsatzar'.

Then it was Anne Schwanewilms, with the best vocal concert I have yet seen, showing amazing control of the long phrases in Debussy's 'Proses Lyriques' before the same in some sumptuous Richard Strauss. Just as important in this respect was accompanist Roger Vignoles, who proved capable of realising the quasi-orchestral textures on the piano.

Christopher Maltman also proved a surprise hit, with an imaginative program of Richard Strauss, Korngold and four songs by Gustav Holst, an unexpected source. The timeless 'Betelgeuse' was by far the strangest of the quartet, a kind of shorter cousin to 'Saturn' from 'The Planets' in its cumbersome old age, but one that resonated for long afterwards. Finally Véronique Gens, performing the Berlioz song cycle 'Les Nuits d’été', gave an especially sparkling performance of the opening song, 'Villanelle'.

So why am I sharing these five special experiences? To show, I think, that with repeated attempts to get to know a style of music better, it can on occasion be possible to achieve a breakthrough and to grow to love it, especially given the right performers and venue.

I have been very lucky in this case, though I can't yet see how this is going to happen with Country & Western!

Hyperion and 30 years of musical exploration

Something about Hyperion Records brings out the record collecting anorak in me. Of all the new release listings that I get to look at in a month, few give as much anticipation as Hyperion's.

Added to that, none have inspired so many purchases from the cover image alone! A few people would say that's the worst way to buy things, but some of my very best musical discoveries have been made that way. So as the independent record label celebrates its 30th anniversary this month, I thought I would take a bit of time to consider how influential it has been on my musical life. Bear with me while I self-indulge a bit…

The first Hyperion record I bought was a tape – of Frank Bridge works for piano trio and quartet. I'd heard the 'Phantasie Trio' on Radio 3 and liked it – and it seemed perfect Autumnal music. Beautifully presented, performed and recorded, it has a special place in my collection. With such an auspicious start it wasn't long before more followed – and next up was the revelatory John Scott CD of Dupré organ works. I have known few moments as thrilling as when the 'Prelude and Fugue in B major' erupts from the speakers, a wall of euphoric sound that few can rival, music played at the highest possible voltage. Extra enjoyment is added on headphones, when turning the volume right up reveals the background sound of St Paul's Cathedral coming in to focus, before the organ sound blazes a trail across the sky.

Two more revelatory discoveries followed - firstly the sumptuous sound of Granville Bantock's 'Celtic Symphony', with massive string orchestra and twelve harps turning their hand to some infectious folk-inflected material - and then Tatiana Nikolayeva's recording of Shostakovich's '24 Preludes and Fugues', written for her and played with strong personality. Over 3 hours the sense of a musical voyage being made, through each major and minor key, is inescapable.

For me, Hyperion has excelled on pretty much every level it turns its hand to, though chamber and instrumental music is a real specialty. The Domus Piano Quartet recordings of Fauré are terrifically exciting, absolutely on the money technically but also deeply emotional. I have also greatly enjoyed the Salomon Quartet's recordings of Mozart and Haydn, which are currently hard to find but contain great personality and humour, proof that period instrument recordings don't have to be stripped back too far. On the piano I have especially enjoyed Steven Osborne's Debussy 'Préludes', Angela Hewitt's Schumann, and the bits I have heard of Leslie Howard’s monumental traversal of the complete piano works of Liszt. Yet among their piano canon one set of recordings stands out, that made by Howard Shelley early on in the label's history of the complete Rachmaninov piano works. These are not necessarily the most fiery of recordings, but have an honesty and clarity that I really warm to.

More recently my discoveries on the label have been vocal ones. Hearing a sensational concert of Richard Strauss at the Wigmore Hall by Anne Schwanewilms prompted me to go in search of her disc on the label, and I was not disappointed. Where Hyperion have triumphed in this respect is giving creative license to their accompanists, and building a series of songs around their direction. Roger Vignoles has done it for Strauss, and each disc is a winner, presenting the composer’s vocal output sensibly and in the company of great singers such as Christine Brewer, Christopher Maltman and Andrew Kennedy.

Choral music is another strong Hyperion preserve, and here I'd go for the Corydon Singers' recordings of Vaughan Williams (especially the Dona Nobis Pacem) and Rachmaninov (the Vespers, an outstanding performance). The Holst Singers have also charmed, and earlier recordings of Poulenc and Janacek by the New London Chamber Choir have proved very striking.

Early music is another field in which the label excels, and many Kings Consort recordings have brought this field alive for me. Chief among them is Handel's 'Water Music', coupled with an equally pictorial 'Water Music' by Telemann. I tried to play the cello part for this once and couldn't, so it was great to hear a cello section that could master it! Meanwhile Gothic Voices, under the leadership of Christopher Page, have made several cleverly themed CDs that celebrate the music of Mediaeval times. 'Music for the Lion Hearted King' was one that especially left its mark.

The gathering at a recent party to celebrate the label's achievement told its own story. Artists such as Stephen Hough, Steven Osborne, Angela Hewitt and Leslie Howard were all clearly delighted to be celebrating the label’s achievement, the boundaries between their administration, marketing and creative sides completely blurred.

So a very happy birthday Hyperion – and here's to another 30 years of musical exploration. My bank manager might not like you, but you're a real asset to classical music listeners in this country!