Prokofiev - Man of the People?

So runs the title of a two week festival dedicated to the composer and headed by the London Philharmonic Orchestra, using the South Bank as its hub. The question posed is a pertinent one, as festival director Vladimir Jurowski looks in to Prokofiev;s output in fine detail, largely shunning the crowd pleasers in favour of some of the more supposedly 'difficult' corners of his published works.

Jurowski's point is a valid one, that the composer of Romeo and Juliet (recently encountered for the first time by viewers of The Apprentice!) has a lot more up his sleeve than the strongly melodic style we already know and love. Whether public exposure to works such as the Second Symphony or the music to Chout will change consciousness remains to be seen, but the attendance for the second of four orchestral concerts in the Royal Festival Hall indicated a keen interest.

Topping the bill for this work was the Sixth Symphony, of which more later, but first there was the relatively awkward lyricism of the Symphonic Song. This 15-minute work seemed to fall between forms, a lettercard rather than a postcard, one whose most attractive moments were sweet but also one whose section of conflict was more industrial and discordant. The final 'achievement' rang rather hollow as a result, but the feeling remained that this was a work Prokofiev needed to write to ease his transition from the avant-garde works of 1920s Paris to red blooded ballet scores such as Romeo & Juliet and Cinderella.

Formally the Fifth Piano Concerto was stranger still, cast in five movements and possessing some oddly oblique melodies, ones that shouldn't work – but which somehow remained in the head throughout the interval. The balance between piano and orchestra worked well here, with Steven Osborne an undemonstrative soloist while the barbed dialogue between piano, woodwind and percussion was at its height. The final Toccata summed things up succinctly, a helter-skelter dash to the finish that crashed in to a wall at the same time as the harmony reached G major. It was a strange but effective end, the sort of signing off Prokofiev does rather well, yet on this occasion it was one that puzzled and pleased the audience in equal measure.

After this slightly uncomfortable but strangely uplifting exuberance we entered a completely different emotional world for the Sixth Symphony, a work written in the immediate aftermath of the Second World War. This is arguably Prokofiev's finest symphonic achievement, even with the carefree Classical and resilient Fifth symphonies taken into account.

The chilly disposition of the opening is slightly melted by a theme whose roots appear to be in chant, inviting parallels with Rachmaninov's almost obsessive use of the Dies Irae melody but making a strongly elegiac impression. Around this the colouring of brass and wind in particular are highly original, and the London Philharmonic trombones and tubas were superb, conveying their lines as if they were anguished cries of torment. The piano, too, lends a sharper edge to the music, adding extra punch to the rhythms.

Jurowski was rather cool in the first two movements, especially in the Largo second movement where some freedom with the tempo would have heightened the expression of what is already a powerful, fraught melody. The finale however carried maximum impact, its opening theme one of Prokofiev’s delightful flights of fancy but one that finally turns sour. When it did the full power of the orchestra could be unleashed, the impact a sudden slap in the face for the earlier forced jollity. In this single gesture, the culmination of a pot boiling over with repressed feeling, Prokofiev shows himself to be a man of the people indeed, expressing in full the torment felt in the immediate aftermath of war.

William Steinberg – The Disciplined Maestro Conductor

William Steinberg is one of the understated conductors of the 20th century,, known principally nowadays for an outstanding version of The Planets he recorded with the Boston Symphony Orchestra for Deutsche Grammophon in 1970. Of the non-English interpretations of the piece it stands as a remarkable achievement, and his understanding of the music and orchestration almost without parallel.

So it comes as a welcome change to be talking about the conductor's other achievements, with a substantial body of recorded work for EMI that has just been remastered and released in a box of 20 CDs, much of it made available for the first time. It explores Steinberg's relationship with another American orchestra, the Pittsburgh Symphony, begun in the early 1950s and maintained for nigh on 20 years.

The revealing booklet note, penned by Mark Kluge, reveals Steinberg as a relatively introverted soul, yet one who had the ultimate respect of his orchestra, as they regularly played their hearts out for him and formed a strong reputation of their own. Steinberg gained a reputation as someone who concentrated on the music alone, which sounds an obvious point to make, but where a lot of conductors of that time sought to impose their own personalities on the music, it is a value that Steinberg should communicate the music in a very human way.

As a result his Beethoven speaks very directly, and is helped on this set by recordings that are impressively clear despite their age of almost 60 years. The Eroica is lean and muscular, the Eighth is performed with a smile and the Violin Concerto and Emperor match their soloists Nathan Milstein and Rudolf Firkusny respectively. Milstein's sweet tone is an ideal complement to the orchestra’s earthy sound in concertos from Tchaikovsky, Dvorak and Glazunov, while the forthright Firkusny teams up for a magisterial account of Brahms' First Piano Concerto.

Two of Steinberg's favourite composers, the Richards Strauss and Wagner, are well represented, the former by sparkling renditions of Don Juan and Till Eulenspiegel, the latter in a disc of finely judged operatic excerpts. Earlier recordings of classical works also feature, with early 1950s Schubert, Haydn and Mozart performed in a 'big band' style that nevertheless allows plenty of room for grace. Mahler's daughter expressed her preference for Steinberg's account of the First Symphony over Bruno Walter – and here we get to find out why, with an exuberant reading full of lust for life, the composer's sense of the outdoors fully realised.

Steinberg, as is evident from his Planets recording, held great affinity with English music, and tucked away in this set are unusual recordings of Vaughan Williams' Five Tudor Portraits and the Tallis Fantasia, not to mention an account of Elgar's Enigma Variations. Another composer Steinberg went against the grain to champion was Paul Hindemith, and though his best recordings remain for DG the version of the Mathis der Maler symphony here is a treat. Bloch's punchy Concerto Grosso no.1 and Toch’s experimental Third Symphony are other standout points.

It is completely fitting, then, that a conductor respected by Arturo Toscanini, Wilhelm Furtwangler and Leonard Bernstein should finally get his own chance to shine, proper recognition at last for one of the 20th century's finest and most reverential conductors.

Under the fence - ten lesser known lights of 2011

By now it's saturation time in the album of the year polls, with every music website and magazine putting out a top 10, top 50, top 100 even – and quite rightly so. It always makes you realise just how much music there is out there – and thankfully, in the case of this year, an incredible amount of good quality music. I wanted to take the chance to highlight some records – both pop and classical – that I feel have missed out on the jamboree for one reason or another. So here, from all genres, are 10 albums that have made an impact on my musical life for one reason or another in 2011.

No single song captured the mood of the riots and student demonstrations better than British Sea Power's 'Who's In Control'. "I wish protesting was sexy on a Saturday night!" hollers Yan Scott Wilkinson – well soon it was, in Trafalgar Square no less. But this three minute piece of latent anger was followed by some truly wonderful songs on British Sea Power’s fourth album 'Valhalla Dancehall', with the melting centre of 'Georgie Ray', the breezy 'Living Is So Easy' and the moody landscape of 'We Are Sound' all memorable moments on an emotionally powerful album.

With all the bad news came the need to seek out some fun - and for riotous off the wall japes and capers, Mungolian Jet Set's 'Schlungs' proved hard to beat. The spectres of George Clinton and Sly & The Family Stone hang over this album, but the two Norwegians Pål 'Strangefruit' Nyhus and Knut Sævik add their own quirks and musical touches, ensuring happiness, wackiness and an abundance of good tunes are the order of the day. We Are The Shining has a classic house beat, but it's the mischievous Moon Jocks 'n' Prog Rocks that really wins the day. Cosmic, maaaan.
Daedelus' 'Bespoke' was pretty far out, too. Imagine Prince's Purple Rain diffused through a musical prism and you get the uncommonly emotional 'In Tatters', a beautiful and moving slow song on an album brimful of energy and invention. On the other, more energetic side of things you get the blissful 'Tailor-Made' and the frankly remarkable 'What Can You Do', standing left of field with a talent for beat making that has clearly been stepped up a notch. A record high on life.

It's been a good year to be cosmic as it goes, and Mickey Moonlight occupied a space that was pretty out there with his recent album release 'Mickey Moonlight And The Time Axis Manipulation Corporation'. The title says it all really - but the communal singing of 'This Son Is Coming Up' and the deep house of 'Close To Everything - both featuring the superb George Lewis Jr - bring an added dash of soul.

With very little fanfare Bibio has now notched up four extremely fine albums, and he is fast becoming an integral part of the Warp stable. 'Mind Bokeh' was occasionally a mind bender, but made intelligent use of acoustic instruments among its electronic chatter. It also boasted a fine piece of funk in 'K is for Kelson' - imagine the theme to Starsky and Hutch processed for a modern dancefloor! It showed a sense of humour among the clever beats.

Two artists who showed great ambition in their new albums this year were M83 and Tori Amos, and their efforts went largely unrewarded in the polls. As a coincidence I interviewed them both for musicOMH.com this year, and was left in awe of their musical scope and ambition. Anthony Gonzalez wrote much of M83's Hurry Up, We're Dreaming in the Mojave desert, completing a mind bending opus of space and pure euphoria as he remembered his youth. Not only that, but with 'Midnight City' he had the year's best track bar none. Amos, on the other hand, took a leap into the unknown to take on classical music at its own game. That she produced a 75-minute song cycle with hardly a dip in emotional intensity says exactly how much she took from discovering the music of Schubert in particular. The lyrics and story may be relatively tricky to keep hold of, but the music is enchanting and winsome. A modern take on Winterreise that is not found wanting – with more to come in this sphere, hopefully.

While we're on classical, a word on Hindemith, who still suffers an almost constant state of neglect in the face of some highly attractive music. Lawrence Power completed his series of the works for viola for Hyperion this year, and the works for Hindemith's principal instrument and orchestra were revealed in their full glory with rich colours and harmonies, bittersweet melodies and excellent performances. Definitely one to seek out.

Meanwhile the thoughtful folk of the Eloquence label have delved around for a large supply of previously unavailable Holst recordings, originally made by Decca. These are invaluable historical documents, including performances by Sir Peter Pears and Benjamin Britten (the Humbert Wolfe settings, some of which are truly odd!), a unique take on The Planets from Bernard Herrmann, the leading version of Holst's bewitching opera 'Savitri' and some wonderful choral songs, conducted by the composer's daughter Imogen. Four discs, at a tenner each - well worth investing in one or two at the very least, to discover more of a composer far more cosmopolitan than your average English composer.

Back to pop for the last two in the list - and Wolf Gang's 'Suego Faults' reveals itself to be a highly inventive piece of rock looking towards David Byrne and the Velvet Undergrond for inspiration. The sheer confidence of these songs is infectious, and singer Max McElligott delivers them with a swagger that brings MGMT to mind, the music not afraid to take some risks.

Finally another confident band, the Texans Okkervil River - whose music invites comparisons with Arcade Fire through its poise, energy and drive. In this year's I Am Very Far they have created something powerful and invigorating, writing energetic songs that still have that wonderful folky edge to set them apart, with Will Sheff's vocals for individuality.

So there you are - hope there's something to tickle your fancy in that little lot. 2011 has been a very strong year for music beneath the surface, and let's hope 2012 does the same or even better!

Une rare émotion

It's been a particularly good week for French song at the Wigmore Hall.

First up were Véronique Gens and Susan Manoff with a delectable lunchtime concert of Massenet, Gounod and Hahn. Then two days later Bernarda Fink introduced us to the song cycles of Ravel in a fascinating and rather exotic concert titled 'Une rare émotion', framing them in perspective with works from Debussy and Saint-Saëns.
Attending both concerts showed how the song, like several forms of classical music, made huge advances in style under Debussy and Ravel, becoming more concentrated in expression and more elusive in harmony. Both showed great imagination and flair in their settings, and Fink did really well to resist the temptation to 'over program' her recital. Less in length was definitely more in execution.

The objective of Fink's recital was to show Ravel's genius as a song-setter, but also to show how the French song was developing to include instruments alongside the piano. There was an attractive flute line for Saint-Saëns' Une flute invisible and a cello accompaniment for Massenet's Elegie, an excerpt from his opera Manon. More instructive still were Ravel's Chanson madécasses, where flute and cello offered colourful counterpoint in reaction to the text, which at times had the Wigmore audience scratching their collective heads with its obliqueness.

The Cinq mélodies populaires grecques showed an uncommon concentration of expression, operating as all Ravel does with each note of the utmost importance, none wasted. Only Shéhérazade was found a little wanting, because it is better known in its orchestral version. Adam Walker helpfully supplied the flute line, but Fink was the star, with a vibrant and colourful rendition of Asie, bringing the tale of 1,001 Arabian Nights to life.

Ironically in this recital the two Debussy cycles upstaged those of his contemporary and some-time rival, due perhaps to their naturally unfolding performances and easier structure for a live audience. The opening piano salvo in the first song of Chansons de Bilitis, La flûte de Pan, immediately set the scene, the ears keen to hear Fink's first words. In Trois mélodies de Paul Verlaine the air hung thick with the atmosphere of each song – the piano's florid arpeggios conjuring the sea in La mer est plus belle and the shading from accompanist Christopher Glynn exquisite in L'échelonnement des haies, depicting the busy hedgerows. Verlaine's verse and Debussy's music seemed tailor made for each other, the harmonic style relatively ambiguous but the vocal lines beautifully wrought.

It is perhaps inevitable that Massenet should suffer in comparison with these wonderful examples, but Gens showed in her concert how a little simplicity can go a long way. The composer was given quite a hard time in the booklet notes for setting 'second rate verse', and then for not doing enough with the piano part. A bit harsh, maybe – but given these performances it was much harder to find fault. The oscillating arpeggios of La mort de cigale were a case in point, delivered with a real freshness of voice, while Nuit d'Espagne was enjoyably playful.

The Gounod selection she performed was noticeably more accomplished in terms of verse, form and melody, with the Sérénade the single highlight of these two concerts. Gens sang it beautifully; controlling the 'coloratura' refrains with incredible poise, helped by the natural accompaniment from Susan Manoff.

Interestingly Reynaldo Hahn, a contemporary of Debussy and Ravel, made considerable impact in his song settings, making the poet Victor Hugo cry on one occasion when his rivals did not. Gens was the ideal guide to a composer who penned her recital's most dramatic song, the chilling Trois jours de vendange, which took a turn for the dark side half way through. It was a dramatic moment that suggested there is much more to be made in the discovery of French song. True, Debussy and Ravel may be the acknowledged masters, but there was more than enough here to suggest further investigations will be rewarded.

Gustav Holst as seen in Dalston

Gustav Holst is still an undervalued contributor to English classical music. The Planets remains, quite rightly, one of the 20th century's most popular scores, strongly descriptive and illustrative of how it was possible to incorporate English flavoured folk tunes and some of Stravinsky's more acerbic approaches to harmony and orchestration.

Yet many of Holst's orchestral and vocal works languish relatively unheard, despite a rich discography that includes special performances from the likes of Benjamin Britten, Sir Adrian Boult, Yehudi Menuhin and Richard Hickox. Some of these have been made available again on the Eloquence label, which I shall be covering on this site shortly, and there is a fine documentary now available from Tony Palmer, which was broadcast on BBC4 in April and now available on DVD.

Now Grimeborn, the enterprising two-week chamber opera festival, should be applauded for bringing two of Holst's intriguing small scale stage works in from the sidelines. The charming Arcola Theatre in Dalston proved an ideal sized venue on Saturday night for performances of Savitri and The Wandering Scholar, with Daisy Evans' direction making the most of a space incorporating its audience on three of the four sides, the stage in the middle, in front of the small orchestra pit.

The first half brought us the story of one of Holst's unusual Sanskrit-themed works. This is the Hindu legend from the Mahabharata, where Savitri, the widow of Satyavan, appeals to Yama, the lord of death, for his return. The opera is meant to be performed outside, but here in the early evening the light was just right for Evans to successfully evoke that feeling.

Savitri lasts half an hour and is a taut, deeply felt utterance, the music tense throughout. The plot itself was not always easy to follow in this performance, with some words missed as the singers had to turn around on stage, but the emotion was clearly there from Jenny Stafford's pleas in the title role. Edward Ballard as Death was impressive, too, starting the opera with a folk-inflected melodic line that reminded us just how well Holst could write for unaccompanied voice, while Alex Berman had the measure of the ill-fated Satyavan. The chorus sang in a style predating the wordless music at the end of Neptune in The Planets.

The music was striking throughout, in fact, with Holst choosing a chamber orchestra of 16 to accompany his three vocalists. The instrumental colours were beautifully realised, especially the lean single double bass line that gave a feeling of foreboding whenever it was left on its own, and some of the more graceful wind writing up top was well played too by the members of The Little Opera Company. All three vocalists were fine, and Stafford's closing vocalise mirrored Death's opening, giving an essential bit of hope at the end of a pretty dark story. Colourful costumes helped lighten the mood, too, and Evans' use of two expressive sprites hanging on Death’s every word lent a ghoulish edge.

This proved chalk to the cheese of the second half, which was The Wandering Scholar, Holst's last stage work from 1932 and as English as they come. Here was a precursor to the Carry On films, in the shape of a full figured soprano (Stafford, again) gamely fighting off the affections of a lecherous priest (insert) while the Wandering Scholar himself, an open-faced Nick Scott, gradually took centre stage as he revealed the couple’s supposed misdemeanours. There was a lot of slapstick humour here, and Evans did a great job updating the story for the present day. The dog, hilariously played by (insert), read an edition of Nuts while waiting for the opera to start, scratching himself where he shouldn't, while Stafford, having hidden various props in the audience at the sudden appearance of her husband, commendably kept a straight face as he, Louis (Edward Ballard) hilariously tried to get them back.

Again the music was colourful, vulgar at times, and Imogen Holst's observation that the priest in her father’s opera 'would be short and clammy, would roll gently from side to side as he walks, and that there will be grease stains on his cassock' was totally borne out by the excellent (insert). The tunes were good, the script funny, and, as in the first half, there was next to no musical padding, another observation on the part of Imogen of her father’s ability to keep his music straight and to the point.

A thoroughly invigorating evening, then, with a nicely paired double bill that showed off the talents of those on stage, as well as the ability of Holst to write with flair and originality. Chamber opera established itself in the 20th century, and Holst was certainly one of its first exponents.

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.