Licence To Thrill 

When Liam Byrne and Jonas Nordberg spoke with Radio 3's Hannah French it was quickly apparent what a deep knowledge they have of both their instruments and this great music that they animate with such zest and spirit. But conversely this concert felt decadent in the best possible way, as the music and performance we enjoyed was all about pleasure and feeling in its purest sense.

Of course their feeling for the Baroque is immense but what takes their performance one step beyond is their musical appreciation of each other, both when they play as a duo or listening intently to the other's solo performance. The programme was beautifully curated to give us not just a variety of composers, but a mix of duets and solos for both instruments to excel in.

When you hear these two instruments as a duo, if you close your eyes, it often sounds like there could be four instruments on stage. Whilst 'only' for two instruments, the compositions can be fiendishly clever due to the use of 'ground bass' whereby bass notes and rhythms are repeated by either musician whilst the melodies are carved out at the same time. They both do this - it's not one instrument playing bass notes and the other playing melodies; you can imagine the musical complexities that may ensue. It gives the music an extra sense of depth, shape and heft, often sounding delicately labyrinthine.

In a performance that never wavered, it was the final three works that really lodged in my memory. The Chaconne by Monsieur de Sainte-Colombe is where Liam Byrne really gets to flex his virtuosic muscles in a quite brilliant series of variations that just get more and more demanding - we really see the shackles of Baroque convention cast into the shadows here, or that's at least how it feels as we are treated to such fervour and passion ... Then there was the Toccata Arpeggiata by Kapsberger, in which we heard a sublimely wrought use of the humble arpeggio in filigree detail from Jonas Nordberg, with nothing remotely formulaic or functional about them at all ...

There was time for one last duet. The composer Marin Marais spent more than 50 years at the French court so it is safe to say his music is the embodiment of flair and courtly style. In Le Badinage there is no supporting role for either instrument as both were unleashed on a hauntingly wistful F sharp minor duel, it was quite the finale. And you know what, I heard a bar of the 007 theme tune in it!  

Do look out for this concert in a series of four Baroque recitals coming soon on Radio 3.

 

For this performance the conductor and soprano were parachuted in at the last moment so many thanks to both.  In the excellent pre-concert talk we learnt that Bloxham had just five days to get to grips with the Adés and Berg which were both entirely new to him!  He was already more than familiar with Mahler 1 but ironically it would be the unfamiliar that triumphed emphatically in the end.

I must say this programme was very cleverly curated. You have the chaos and atonality of the Adés, then the Berg which cleverly blends 

romantic themes with atonality and then the pure, liquid melodies of Mahler.

The Adés is a very short work, an "orchestral fanfare" that was composed for the opening of the Bridgewater and designed to show off the power of the orchestra with lots of detail and dynamics, which all shone brightly in the superb acoustic of this great hall. As a piece of music it occasionally piqued my interest but only due to the quality of the playing. Towards the end of the work I noted the theme was how shall I say, more than a little similar to Scriabin's Poem of Ecstasy. How funny to mention this immortal work in the same sentence as the Adés ... If Mr Scriabin was around today I'm sure his lawyer would be on the phone. Pronto.

The Berg was entirely new to me too and I found it Ländlermost rewarding. You really need a grasp of the storyline of the opera from which the suite is taken to get the most out of it - 

Powerful stuff indeed and the music delivers the drama in spades. It's fascinating to listen to but don't expect an easy ride and it features a most disturbing denouement in the deepest shadows of Victorian London. You can hear lush and romantic themes being taken up by individual instruments while other sections of the orchestra appear to be playing something entirely unrelated in terms of tone and colour. I was again reminded of Scriabin but this time in a much less direct way. This work is darker, much darker. Scriabin yearns for some kind of global enlightenment but Berg is locked into our basest desires and motives. It did command my attention and the orchestra were superb, constantly probing and navigating the layers of  intrigue with style and aplomb. Miss Prohaska wore a shimmering gold gown and sang from two different positions on the stage to enhance the dramatic effect, doing so with great commitment and artistry. 

Strangely enough during the interval my eyes started watering uncontrollably! I've never experienced anything quite like it. Perhaps it was due to sitting downwind of some attractive but industrially potent perfume ...

Having regained my composure for the Mahler I was treated to the magnificent sight of an appropriately super sized orchestra. Eight basses, eight horns, two timpanists etc means plenty of power on tap and there wasn't much room left on this big stage. I was anticipating a really special sound but sadly I was to be disappointed as I found the interpretation to be too restrained overall. The early pastoral themes just didn't take flight, lacking the soaring lyricism required. The music wasn't playful enough in the Ländler, where was the fun? And where was the character in the Klezmer? Where was all the colour? It was too cool and aloof for me, curiously passionless. Overall I felt much more shaping was required to make the music really sing. The brass were fantastic I must add and kept my attention at all times. Elsewhere for the most part everyone seemed to be playing well within themselves and I really hoped for more from this talented orchestra.

Maybe the orchestra were too familiar with the work themselves and as a result it made me feel I knew it too well ... The programme notes made mention of what this symphony must have sounded like when first performed but ironically this sense of wonderment was conspicuously absent. This is Mahler 1 - a tone poem that collides with a traditional symphony, an orchestral revolution! But there were no surprises or insights into the music here and as a result I was never really moved. The final movement was the most effective of all in terms of delivering some effective drama and energy at least but for the majority of this work, the performance skated on the surface proficiently,  but never got to the heart of the music.

Curiously enough I spotted a defibrillator just outside the hall and my first thought was that it really shouldn't have been necessary for anyone after this tepid Mahler!

The big pre-concert news and chat was that Mirga was indisposed and her place on the podium was to be taken by the Mexican-American conductor, Robert Trevino, music director of the Basque National Orchestra in Spain, whose work I knew only in his superb Ravel collection. But that didn't give me much of a clue as to his powers with Mahler. Before discussing his performance, a quick recap on my recent Mahler cycle travels thus far around the country.

1 - The Halle, Bloxham. An overwhelming and underwhelming disappointment.

3 - Philharmonia, Paavo Järvi. Very good but not stratospheric.

7 - Berlin Phil, Petrenko. Wonderful, only let down by the poor acoustic in the Albert ...

9 - Budapest Festival Orchestra, Fischer. Not for me.

Well, the first movement of the 10th is just thrilling and incomparable music, beautifully performed in an outstanding acoustic, surely a one way ticket to Mahler heaven;  I don't think there's anything quite like it. One of the first things that struck me was the superlative string tone of this orchestra. It was luxurious and luminous, with a timeless quality about it that reminded me of the Berlin Phil under Karajan. Not just in terms of exquisitely rich tone but the sense of playing as one cohesive unit, with one voice. Just gorgeous! I also have to pay tribute to the first trumpet in this movement - such extraordinary control on delivering those long notes that cascade from deafening to whispered, seemingly in one breath ... The two 'orchestral fanfares' in this movement took me to a world I have never before experienced. If Scriabin searches for enlightenment, this actually took me there, almost to a sense of profound spiritual awakening. Where was I at that moment?  Words themselves can't express what the music does here. It's as though you are in the presence of a divine and omnipotent life force. 

The second movement was most taut and keenly shaped by Trevino, who cut a lithe figure on the podium, constantly probing and prodding his superbly responsive orchestra. I really got the sense they were enjoying working with him. In fact this was notable in the entire performance, as was his grasp of macro and micro dynamics which are so powerful in this state of the art hall. The speed of transition from loud to quiet in a single short phrase is remarkable, all with a hyper detailed and crystalline clarity that I have never experienced in my travels to date.

Then came the "Purgatorio", whose memorably brisk and urgent motif was marked by a sense of Spring-like pastoral lightness, contrasting with responses set in lengthening shadows, revealing swirling undercurrents of imminent danger and tragic possibilities. What lies beneath ...

The fourth movement strikes me as the least successful in the score and I just don't feel the same cohesion in the development of the musical themes. This is not down to the playing which was suitably urgent and impassioned; it's not lacking in drama by any means either but it feels bereft of the divine inspiration of the other movements. Surely Mahler would have taken this movement somewhere else given time?

But the final movement - this is a different beast entirely! Incredible drama and a darkness that takes your soul to the depths of oblivion. The extensive and varied use of percussion often hit like rifle shots to the chest, yet you also have the joy of a flute solo that was so sublimely wrought in filigree detail, so moving, so sinuous in weaving a shimmering trail of white magic. The sheer volume that the hall radiated back to our circle seats in the climaxes was again something I have never experienced. I'd be willing to bet that a decible meter would have proven this conclusively. 

I'm going to go out on a limb here and state that this was the finest orchestral performance I have *ever* attended. An orchestra at the peak of its powers and ultimately how lucky we were that Robert Trevino stepped up to form a union of minds that proved utterly and deliriously intoxicating ... I was drunk on its pleasures.

Never to be forgotten.