Edinburgh International Festival 2007 Programme
Posted by: Tam on 28 March 2007
Well, it's that time of year, the programme is out, and can be viewed here and downloaded here.
I've been curious for some time as to how this would turn out. This is the first year director Jonathan Mills (replacing Brian McMaster, a tough act to follow). Many of the signs had been ominous: the lack of the usual preliminary list in November listing many of the artists featuring led many (myself included) to speculate that this was withheld for lack of big names. His professed keenness for early music also had me a little worried. However, I'd got my hopes up in the last few days. I now rather wish I hadn't. To my mind, this is the poorest programme I've seen in my time visiting the festival (and now living here).
The biggest gripe first: Mackerras, where is he? Similarly Runnicles. Of course, I suppose one can't expect to have the same artists every year, and change is certainly a good thing, but there is a conspicuous lack of bigger names. That said, there are some old favourites (Brendel, for example, and Bostridge will be for others), and I applaud the appearance of Ades, something that simply would not have happened under McMaster (and I'm very glad I'll get to hear him conduct his violin concerto).
But there's a lot of early music. A lot. Monteverdi as far as the eye can see. All right if you like that sort of thing. However, this has never been an early music festival and that's an area well served elsewhere. Both the big local bands, the RSNO and the BBS Scottish seem underused (indeed, he seems not to know what to do with the Usher Hall as it's dark on 3 nights).
There are some rays of sunlight, Jansons is bringing the Bavarian RSO and Tilson Thomas the SF Symphony (giving us this year's only Mahler) - certainly making the last week something quite special).
But elsewhere the are more oddities. Norrington and the SCO giving us Haydn's Creation. Fine enough - except we've had a Creation from the very same band just 6 months or so ago. But that was driven by Mackerras. What's more, he had the SCO chorus, Norrington will be calling on the Festival Chorus (who are simply not in the same league). Then there's the Sibelius, 3 from Ades, 4 from Jarvi and 2 from Jansons (all very good, and yet we've had quite a bit of Sibelius in the concert hall here lately).
There is next to no staged opera (and nothing from Scottish Opera - leaving me yet again to wonder what on earth the point of a having a national company is).
All in all, I'll be booking much less than in previous years (though I may well pick up other stuff on a whim in August, as little is likely to sell out).
regards, Tam
I've been curious for some time as to how this would turn out. This is the first year director Jonathan Mills (replacing Brian McMaster, a tough act to follow). Many of the signs had been ominous: the lack of the usual preliminary list in November listing many of the artists featuring led many (myself included) to speculate that this was withheld for lack of big names. His professed keenness for early music also had me a little worried. However, I'd got my hopes up in the last few days. I now rather wish I hadn't. To my mind, this is the poorest programme I've seen in my time visiting the festival (and now living here).
The biggest gripe first: Mackerras, where is he? Similarly Runnicles. Of course, I suppose one can't expect to have the same artists every year, and change is certainly a good thing, but there is a conspicuous lack of bigger names. That said, there are some old favourites (Brendel, for example, and Bostridge will be for others), and I applaud the appearance of Ades, something that simply would not have happened under McMaster (and I'm very glad I'll get to hear him conduct his violin concerto).
But there's a lot of early music. A lot. Monteverdi as far as the eye can see. All right if you like that sort of thing. However, this has never been an early music festival and that's an area well served elsewhere. Both the big local bands, the RSNO and the BBS Scottish seem underused (indeed, he seems not to know what to do with the Usher Hall as it's dark on 3 nights).
There are some rays of sunlight, Jansons is bringing the Bavarian RSO and Tilson Thomas the SF Symphony (giving us this year's only Mahler) - certainly making the last week something quite special).
But elsewhere the are more oddities. Norrington and the SCO giving us Haydn's Creation. Fine enough - except we've had a Creation from the very same band just 6 months or so ago. But that was driven by Mackerras. What's more, he had the SCO chorus, Norrington will be calling on the Festival Chorus (who are simply not in the same league). Then there's the Sibelius, 3 from Ades, 4 from Jarvi and 2 from Jansons (all very good, and yet we've had quite a bit of Sibelius in the concert hall here lately).
There is next to no staged opera (and nothing from Scottish Opera - leaving me yet again to wonder what on earth the point of a having a national company is).
All in all, I'll be booking much less than in previous years (though I may well pick up other stuff on a whim in August, as little is likely to sell out).
regards, Tam
Posted on: 01 August 2007 by u5227470736789439
It will have to wait till I am back from Poland in the middle of August for a Wedding - not mine! I am saving every penny at the mo! Fredrik
Posted on: 01 August 2007 by Ian G.
quote:
Oh dear, do I really need a third set of Beethoven Symphonies - isn't that getting a bit compulsive .... Having said that the performances I was lucky enough to attend were stunning - especially the 7th sticks in my memory as thriling.
Ian
Posted on: 01 August 2007 by Tam
quote:do I really need a third set of Beethoven Symphonies - isn't that getting a bit compulsive ....
What does that make me with my 17..... actually, I already know the answer, a lot compulsive!
The finale of the 7th in particular was something else. The pace and excitement he gave it was breath-taking.
Other highlights were the textures of the thunder storm in the 6th and the humour in the first.
regards, Tam
Posted on: 01 August 2007 by u5227470736789439
Dear Ian,
I have only got about three of each symphony, and not one complete cycle. In the First and Second I only have one each! So I could do with a counterbalanced view!
ATB from Fredrik
I have only got about three of each symphony, and not one complete cycle. In the First and Second I only have one each! So I could do with a counterbalanced view!
ATB from Fredrik
Posted on: 01 August 2007 by Ian G.
Oh dear, I just recalled this morning that I had already last week clicked to buy this but forgot as it is still in transit...
At £8 delivered it seemed rude not to.(Amazon marketplace)
At £8 delivered it seemed rude not to.(Amazon marketplace)
Posted on: 09 August 2007 by fidelio
so most of ludwig's "great" symphonies are odd-numbered. noted. throw out the first one (like pancakes), and add in the 6th for sentiment (pastoral, isn't it?). hhmmmm ....
Posted on: 09 August 2007 by Tam
quote:Originally posted by fidelio:
so most of ludwig's "great" symphonies are odd-numbered. noted. throw out the first one (like pancakes), and add in the 6th for sentiment (pastoral, isn't it?). hhmmmm ....
Interesting - I didn't really read the picture the when Ian posted it, but I couldn't agree that the great Beethoven symphonies are the odd ones. 4 and 8 rank as firm favourites, and while many often suggest they are lightweight, I've heard plenty of performances that suggest otherwise (the 8th in particular).
On a festival note, after our shifts ended at the venue, a bunch of us dropped into The Jazz Bar to catch these two acts:
http://www.edfringe.com/shows/detail.php?action=shows&id=5485
http://www.edfringe.com/shows/detail.php?action=shows&id=4597
As always, there's something especially enjoyable about something unplanned that turns out to be rather good.
regards, Tam
Posted on: 17 August 2007 by Ian G.
Following up on Tam's last comment I found myself with a free evening tonight and was lucky enough to catch 'Two Tall Girls', a new pairing of Sophie Bancroft and Christine Hanson. Sophie is a fine singer/songwriter and Christine a Cellist. Together they have a very interestng and attractive sound, fusing Sophie's Jazz influeces with Christines more trad folk roots. Very enjoyable. They are on again Saturday and Sunday if anyone is in Edinburgh and fancies a listen. (some samples on MySpace too).
After that I dived into the next show at the same venue which was the Wrigley Sisters - twins from Orkney with an excellent spin on trad fiddle tunes with some virtuoso guitar work thrown in. I'd been lazily hoping to catch this pair for few years now and was not dissapointed. A great bonus is that their 'patter' about life in Orkney is very funny and the show passed al too quicky.
Evening like this reminds one how fantastically lucky one is to live in Edinburgh at Festival time.
After that I dived into the next show at the same venue which was the Wrigley Sisters - twins from Orkney with an excellent spin on trad fiddle tunes with some virtuoso guitar work thrown in. I'd been lazily hoping to catch this pair for few years now and was not dissapointed. A great bonus is that their 'patter' about life in Orkney is very funny and the show passed al too quicky.
Evening like this reminds one how fantastically lucky one is to live in Edinburgh at Festival time.
Posted on: 26 August 2007 by Tam
Well, the 2007 festival and the tenure of Jonathan Mills got off to a flying start a couple of weeks ago (though I personally opted out of Candide), but only now that the fringe is over do I find a moment to write anything down. My festival experience began on Saturday 11th with a concert from Neeme Jarvi and the Royal Scottish National Orchestra, and a very poorly sold on at that (the hall was perhaps one third full). Perhaps as on paper this was not a blockbuster: opening with two pieces by Estonian Heino Eller and closing with a ballet from Falla (all three works unknown to me). What might be termed the headline work was itself not exactly an easy one, Sibelius's magical fourth lack the glory and accessibility of works like the second or the fifth. Still, those who went elsewhere were missing out.
Eller is not a household name, and on the basis of Dawn and Twilight this is not entirely unfair. They were nice enough, but rather had the feel of film music. However, the ensemble played them very well, and there was at times a wonderful weight. There also seemed to be hints of both Sibelius and Wagner, which made this interesting programatically.
The Sibelius that followed was something else. There was a real depth to the superbly played opening chords. The quality of the strings and the principle cello was particularly high. Jarvi's reading had a very dark feel to it, yet not in the edgy sense that often is present. He had good control of the orchestra and great delicacy at times. He also provided a strong sense of structure (something that eludes many interpreters) and held the tension well. What a shame then that as the magnificent third movement reached its climax the Usher Hall's fire alarms sounded (I am told by those who were there on Sunday that the hall currently has problems with running water to boot). Jarvi persisted for several minutes before, by dint of the fade up of the house lights and the recorded announcements, he was forced to admit defeat. Despite the poorly filled hall, it still took around 5 minutes to evacuate the upper circle which once more made me glad it wasn't a real fire as I'm sure were one to occur, anyone on the upper floor would be in trouble (presumably the will be addressing this when the hall is refurbished).
It is doubly annoying as this is the second time this has happened in the last year. Towards the end of the wonderful Mackerras/Scottish Chamber Orchestra reading of Haydn's Creation last October, we were forced out of the building. And I am told the alarm kept going off during last year's opening concert (Electra).
Still, 20 minutes later we were back in our seats and the Jarvi picked up where he had been so rudely interrupted. It is a testament to the professionalism of those involved that they resumed with every bit the passion and the inconvenience was soon but a memory. He capped the reading with a fine finale. Rather than bursting out immediately and dominating, the fourth movement's brightness emerged only slowly and never completely. The closing bars were suitably dark and melancholy.
After the interval, we finished with Falla's Three Cornered Hat. Like the 1812 overture or Walton's Belshazzar's Feast, this felt like something of a party piece: tremendous fun but you probably wouldn't take it to your desert island. Victoria Simmonds proved an engaging soloist, not least the Latin passion with which she stormed onto the stage to over the top fanfares. She was accompanied by interestingly scored clapping from the orchestra. However, by the end it had slightly overstayed its welcome and there were rather too many false finishes.
All in all, a solid start to the year's festivities.
Sunday and I was dashing down madly to London to hear a stunning Gotterdammerung at the Proms (report to follow when I have a second to type it). Monday and Tuesday marked the appearance of the Chamber Orchestra of Europe under Thomas Ades. I can't remember the last time I noticed programming this adventurous at the International festival, that at least was the thought that ran through my mind when I first saw these two concerts nestling on the first Monday and Tuesday of the festival. Actually, that isn't quite true. When the Cleveland Orchestra made their memorable visit in 2004, one of their three programmes consisted of two pieces by Birtwistle (The Shadow of Night and Night's Black Bird) to which, despite being paired with Schubert's great c major symphony, and there being nothing else on for it to compete against, almost nobody came. While Ades has a fair enough following in some quarters, particularly the Aldeburgh festival of which he is the director, and notable champions (such as Simon Rattle), he surely wouldn't be welcomed with open arms by the conservative festival audiences.
I was pleasantly surprised, therefore, to see the house somewhere between two thirds and three quarters full, this despite the fact we were hearing what was surely the Scottish premier of Ades' violin concerto (something I had been very much looking forward to since first hearing it on a radio broadcast from last year's Aldeburgh festival). Perhaps this is less surprising given the weight of 'safe' material in the programme. This began with a spirited reading of Beethoven's Namensfeier overture. They raced through it. Ades is an interesting conductor to watch, he didn't use a podium and so seemed to stand right in amongst the orchestra. He danced somewhat (but unlike some who do, his every move seemed to bring an intended response), indeed at times he jabbed his baton as if fencing with the players. It was a thrilling start.
This was followed by Stravinsky's Pulcinella suite. I shall confess now to not being the greatest fan of the composer, but they played it with great aplomb and it was enjoyable. However, the meat came after the interval. Anthony Marwood, for whom the concerto was composed, was the soloist. The work is short (around twenty minutes), yet much as Sibelius's seventh symphony, takes you on a far longer journey. The themes are circular - the three movements being named Rings, Paths and Rounds and this shows. It's a difficult piece to describe. It seems to tug you this way and that and while it isn't necessarily tuneful, if you let it, it washes over you and is utterly enthralling. Ades creates some lovely textures and colours. Soloist, orchestra and conductor played it wonderfully and left only one question: why has this not been recorded commercially. Indeed, Marwood's playing reminded me of the wonderfully captivating performance we had last year of Szymanowski's violin concerto from Frank Peter Zimmermann and the BPO under Rattle. We cheered loudly, but it did not meet with universal approval. Mr Flashlight, sitting next to us (so christened for his strange habit of reading the programme only after a piece had started, and then doing so with his small pocket torch) was not amused. He refused to clap and said loudly at the end that all modern music was rubbish. I wouldn't have minded so much, but he did have to be shushed during the concert - if you're reading this Mr Flashlight, you might not appreciate a work, but please allow those of us who do to enjoy it.
The programme finished with a favourite of mine: Sibelius's third symphony. Ades did not hang about, indeed, if anything, his pace was a little too frantic. However, the orchestra held together. It was a reading of marked contrasts, as when he did choose to slow down, the tempi were as broad as before they had been brisk. This was also not a cold reading (whether or not this is a good thing will be a matter of individual taste, personally, I love the icy chill to which Sibelius's music lends itself, but Ades convinced with his warmer take). The slow middle movement, where so many readings get lost, was played beautifully and Ades brought out the different musical lines well. The finale was thrilling, though he could have found a little more of the sort of sweep that someone like Davis brings. Mr Flashlight approved this time - that was more like it, he said (or something along those lines). Perhaps someone ought to point out to him that at one time, approximately a hundred years ago, this too was modern music and there was probably some stuffy figure reading his programme note with a candle and muttering about what a disgrace it was.
The following night the orchestra returned for a French programme. Again this was well sold (although, as it turned out, the programming was less adventurous). The concert began with Rameau, of whom I have never been a great fan, and his Les Indes galantes: Overture. Certainly it was enthusiastically played, and listening it confirmed in my mind that Michael Tumulty's complaint in the Herald against the previous evening's performance of blurred musical lines was nonsense. However, the work was, like other Rameau I have heard, rather samey and overstayed its welcome, as far as I was concerned. This was followed by Ades, though not really: his Three Studies after Couperin. This is the most accessible of his work I have heard (as it is tuneful), though Ades plays fast and lose with tempi and creates some lovely orchestrations. This is a charming piece, but I might have liked to hear something a little more daring.
The first half closed with Berlioz's Les nuits d'ete. Toby Spence sang beautifully and as is always a good sign, after a verse or so into the second song, I was so transported that I gave up following the words in programme. Ades made fine accompanist, the delicacy and precision that are hallmarks of his conducting serving him well. If anyone has a recommendation for a good recording, I would love to hear it. The second half was somewhat more disappointing, bringing us Ravel's Le tombeau de Couperin and Bizet's symphony in C. Both were very well played, and diverting enough, but I can't help feeling that neither is a particularly great work and their absence from my CD collection is not a hole I am in any hurry to fill.
Some good things then, and a very worthwhile visit. I hope they return in the future, and perhaps with a slightly more adventurous programme.
Wednesday 15th brought a packed Usher Hall to hear Alfred Brendel in recital. He played a Haydn sonata, Beethoven's op.110 (which was magical), two Schubert impromtus and Mozart's sonata K457 (and received a standing ovation from the young boy in the row in front - who was rather better behaved than his parents). Brendel's playing was magical, and impressive for his age, though this is now starting to show slightly. One cannot help but feel that some of his pauses are less for dramatic effect a more for memory.
But any quibbles are minor, he is still enthralling, and his ability to make the huge Usher Hall fell like an intimate chamber venue is impressive. I think it likely I may pop over to Glasgow to hear him when he visits in February.
Since then, I've been so busy at the Fringe I've done nothing else at the international. In that context I've seen little that is of note musically. However, the other Thursday, after heading to the pub for a drink with several staff from the venue, we once again made our way to the jazz bar. There we heard the magnificent Tony Monaco Organ Trio (the organ in question being a hammond). They were wonderful - the range of tones and colours they produced and their quality as an ensemble (in some ways reminiscent of the unity of voice that Bill Evans' trio achieved in the early 60s).
As the technician at the venue remarked, it was just what the doctor ordered. When I have a moment I must look and see if they have any CDs.
Next week, there's plenty at the festival including Jansons and the Bavarians and Tilson Thomas and the San Franciscans. I've been to rather less this year than in the past, however my brother has been to quite a bit more. If anyone is interested, you can read his thoughts on the blog we share for reviewing the festival (among other things). Most of my posts are also made here and are little different there.
regards, Tam
Eller is not a household name, and on the basis of Dawn and Twilight this is not entirely unfair. They were nice enough, but rather had the feel of film music. However, the ensemble played them very well, and there was at times a wonderful weight. There also seemed to be hints of both Sibelius and Wagner, which made this interesting programatically.
The Sibelius that followed was something else. There was a real depth to the superbly played opening chords. The quality of the strings and the principle cello was particularly high. Jarvi's reading had a very dark feel to it, yet not in the edgy sense that often is present. He had good control of the orchestra and great delicacy at times. He also provided a strong sense of structure (something that eludes many interpreters) and held the tension well. What a shame then that as the magnificent third movement reached its climax the Usher Hall's fire alarms sounded (I am told by those who were there on Sunday that the hall currently has problems with running water to boot). Jarvi persisted for several minutes before, by dint of the fade up of the house lights and the recorded announcements, he was forced to admit defeat. Despite the poorly filled hall, it still took around 5 minutes to evacuate the upper circle which once more made me glad it wasn't a real fire as I'm sure were one to occur, anyone on the upper floor would be in trouble (presumably the will be addressing this when the hall is refurbished).
It is doubly annoying as this is the second time this has happened in the last year. Towards the end of the wonderful Mackerras/Scottish Chamber Orchestra reading of Haydn's Creation last October, we were forced out of the building. And I am told the alarm kept going off during last year's opening concert (Electra).
Still, 20 minutes later we were back in our seats and the Jarvi picked up where he had been so rudely interrupted. It is a testament to the professionalism of those involved that they resumed with every bit the passion and the inconvenience was soon but a memory. He capped the reading with a fine finale. Rather than bursting out immediately and dominating, the fourth movement's brightness emerged only slowly and never completely. The closing bars were suitably dark and melancholy.
After the interval, we finished with Falla's Three Cornered Hat. Like the 1812 overture or Walton's Belshazzar's Feast, this felt like something of a party piece: tremendous fun but you probably wouldn't take it to your desert island. Victoria Simmonds proved an engaging soloist, not least the Latin passion with which she stormed onto the stage to over the top fanfares. She was accompanied by interestingly scored clapping from the orchestra. However, by the end it had slightly overstayed its welcome and there were rather too many false finishes.
All in all, a solid start to the year's festivities.
Sunday and I was dashing down madly to London to hear a stunning Gotterdammerung at the Proms (report to follow when I have a second to type it). Monday and Tuesday marked the appearance of the Chamber Orchestra of Europe under Thomas Ades. I can't remember the last time I noticed programming this adventurous at the International festival, that at least was the thought that ran through my mind when I first saw these two concerts nestling on the first Monday and Tuesday of the festival. Actually, that isn't quite true. When the Cleveland Orchestra made their memorable visit in 2004, one of their three programmes consisted of two pieces by Birtwistle (The Shadow of Night and Night's Black Bird) to which, despite being paired with Schubert's great c major symphony, and there being nothing else on for it to compete against, almost nobody came. While Ades has a fair enough following in some quarters, particularly the Aldeburgh festival of which he is the director, and notable champions (such as Simon Rattle), he surely wouldn't be welcomed with open arms by the conservative festival audiences.
I was pleasantly surprised, therefore, to see the house somewhere between two thirds and three quarters full, this despite the fact we were hearing what was surely the Scottish premier of Ades' violin concerto (something I had been very much looking forward to since first hearing it on a radio broadcast from last year's Aldeburgh festival). Perhaps this is less surprising given the weight of 'safe' material in the programme. This began with a spirited reading of Beethoven's Namensfeier overture. They raced through it. Ades is an interesting conductor to watch, he didn't use a podium and so seemed to stand right in amongst the orchestra. He danced somewhat (but unlike some who do, his every move seemed to bring an intended response), indeed at times he jabbed his baton as if fencing with the players. It was a thrilling start.
This was followed by Stravinsky's Pulcinella suite. I shall confess now to not being the greatest fan of the composer, but they played it with great aplomb and it was enjoyable. However, the meat came after the interval. Anthony Marwood, for whom the concerto was composed, was the soloist. The work is short (around twenty minutes), yet much as Sibelius's seventh symphony, takes you on a far longer journey. The themes are circular - the three movements being named Rings, Paths and Rounds and this shows. It's a difficult piece to describe. It seems to tug you this way and that and while it isn't necessarily tuneful, if you let it, it washes over you and is utterly enthralling. Ades creates some lovely textures and colours. Soloist, orchestra and conductor played it wonderfully and left only one question: why has this not been recorded commercially. Indeed, Marwood's playing reminded me of the wonderfully captivating performance we had last year of Szymanowski's violin concerto from Frank Peter Zimmermann and the BPO under Rattle. We cheered loudly, but it did not meet with universal approval. Mr Flashlight, sitting next to us (so christened for his strange habit of reading the programme only after a piece had started, and then doing so with his small pocket torch) was not amused. He refused to clap and said loudly at the end that all modern music was rubbish. I wouldn't have minded so much, but he did have to be shushed during the concert - if you're reading this Mr Flashlight, you might not appreciate a work, but please allow those of us who do to enjoy it.
The programme finished with a favourite of mine: Sibelius's third symphony. Ades did not hang about, indeed, if anything, his pace was a little too frantic. However, the orchestra held together. It was a reading of marked contrasts, as when he did choose to slow down, the tempi were as broad as before they had been brisk. This was also not a cold reading (whether or not this is a good thing will be a matter of individual taste, personally, I love the icy chill to which Sibelius's music lends itself, but Ades convinced with his warmer take). The slow middle movement, where so many readings get lost, was played beautifully and Ades brought out the different musical lines well. The finale was thrilling, though he could have found a little more of the sort of sweep that someone like Davis brings. Mr Flashlight approved this time - that was more like it, he said (or something along those lines). Perhaps someone ought to point out to him that at one time, approximately a hundred years ago, this too was modern music and there was probably some stuffy figure reading his programme note with a candle and muttering about what a disgrace it was.
The following night the orchestra returned for a French programme. Again this was well sold (although, as it turned out, the programming was less adventurous). The concert began with Rameau, of whom I have never been a great fan, and his Les Indes galantes: Overture. Certainly it was enthusiastically played, and listening it confirmed in my mind that Michael Tumulty's complaint in the Herald against the previous evening's performance of blurred musical lines was nonsense. However, the work was, like other Rameau I have heard, rather samey and overstayed its welcome, as far as I was concerned. This was followed by Ades, though not really: his Three Studies after Couperin. This is the most accessible of his work I have heard (as it is tuneful), though Ades plays fast and lose with tempi and creates some lovely orchestrations. This is a charming piece, but I might have liked to hear something a little more daring.
The first half closed with Berlioz's Les nuits d'ete. Toby Spence sang beautifully and as is always a good sign, after a verse or so into the second song, I was so transported that I gave up following the words in programme. Ades made fine accompanist, the delicacy and precision that are hallmarks of his conducting serving him well. If anyone has a recommendation for a good recording, I would love to hear it. The second half was somewhat more disappointing, bringing us Ravel's Le tombeau de Couperin and Bizet's symphony in C. Both were very well played, and diverting enough, but I can't help feeling that neither is a particularly great work and their absence from my CD collection is not a hole I am in any hurry to fill.
Some good things then, and a very worthwhile visit. I hope they return in the future, and perhaps with a slightly more adventurous programme.
Wednesday 15th brought a packed Usher Hall to hear Alfred Brendel in recital. He played a Haydn sonata, Beethoven's op.110 (which was magical), two Schubert impromtus and Mozart's sonata K457 (and received a standing ovation from the young boy in the row in front - who was rather better behaved than his parents). Brendel's playing was magical, and impressive for his age, though this is now starting to show slightly. One cannot help but feel that some of his pauses are less for dramatic effect a more for memory.
But any quibbles are minor, he is still enthralling, and his ability to make the huge Usher Hall fell like an intimate chamber venue is impressive. I think it likely I may pop over to Glasgow to hear him when he visits in February.
Since then, I've been so busy at the Fringe I've done nothing else at the international. In that context I've seen little that is of note musically. However, the other Thursday, after heading to the pub for a drink with several staff from the venue, we once again made our way to the jazz bar. There we heard the magnificent Tony Monaco Organ Trio (the organ in question being a hammond). They were wonderful - the range of tones and colours they produced and their quality as an ensemble (in some ways reminiscent of the unity of voice that Bill Evans' trio achieved in the early 60s).
As the technician at the venue remarked, it was just what the doctor ordered. When I have a moment I must look and see if they have any CDs.
Next week, there's plenty at the festival including Jansons and the Bavarians and Tilson Thomas and the San Franciscans. I've been to rather less this year than in the past, however my brother has been to quite a bit more. If anyone is interested, you can read his thoughts on the blog we share for reviewing the festival (among other things). Most of my posts are also made here and are little different there.
regards, Tam
Posted on: 11 September 2007 by Tam
Several things jumped out of the programme at me in April, but perhaps none more so than Mariss Jansons and his Bavarian orchestra. I don't exactly have a list, per se, at least not one that I've actually taken the time to write down, but somewhere in the back of my mind the artists I hold a particular ambition to hear in the flesh have a mark against their name. Jansons and the Bavarians were certainly on the list.
I have had an affection for the orchestra for some while, mainly through their long association with Eugen Jochum who was their music director during the 50s and built the foundations that make them so fine today (which is why it was arguable as well that he was passed over for the Berlin Philharmonic directorship in favour Herbert von Karajan). Jansons too missed out on the Berlin job when it went to Simon Rattle, though this may have been partly due to his health at the time. Now he holds both the Bavarian and Concertgebouw jobs and has impressed me greatly with his recordings of Mahler and Sibelius. To cut a long story short, or rather shorter, I'd been very much looking forward to these two visits as, on paper, they were arguably the highlights of the programme. This is a dangerous position, since it can lead to disappointment.
But if they normally play this well, I don't think that can be the case terribly often. The first programme, on Monday 27th August, brought Strauss and Sibelius. And here lies my only real quibble with Jansons' choices: Also sprach Zarathustra. Now, I'll admit to not being the world's greatest fan of Strauss, but I suspect even his devotees would acknowledge this isn't his finest moment (certainly my brother, who is always berating me for my lukewarm views on the composer, would say so). The opening few moments, as immortalised by Stanley Kubrick in 2001 A Space Odyssey, are magnificent and the Bavarians played them to perfection. The trouble is that after that there isn't anything quite so magnificent. There are some nice climaxes and Jansons gets some wonderful undulating textures out of his players. However, it does slightly suffer, in the same way as his recording of Heldenleben on the Concertgebouw's own label, from a slightly disjointed feeling. The other disappointment was in the use of the electric organ - I have keenly felt in the years since its 2003 restoration that the Usher Hall's organ has been under-utilised, and this seemed another example. However, I am told by people who know far more than I, that it would not have balanced correctly for the piece and so I shall take them at their word. Tantalising though the piece's quiet end is, it still leaves you thinking of those opening bars.
The meat came in the second half with Sibelius's second symphony. Instantly the weight of this orchestra set the performance apart from the readings of the third and fourth from earlier in the festival. The playing was exceptionally fine and I thought Jansons phrased passages beautifully. He brought a control and, at times, impressive delicacy and if not having quite the sweep that Colin Davis would bring, found a nice ebb and flow. In this symphony particularly, though it holds for much of Sibelius, I find one of the principle axes along which interpretations can be judged is warmth: at one end would sit Bernstein's frigid Vienna reading, and at the other Barbirolli's sunny Halle performance. Jansons falls somewhere in the middle, generally on the warm side. The second movement was more impressive: rough and edgy, painting a vivid landscape as all the best Sibelians seem to, and yet with moments of exceptional beauty. He gave it a darker hue than the first. This was followed by an extremely exciting vivacissimo marked by exceptional string playing. Jansons built the tensions expertly and made a brilliant transition into the finale. And present here was a Davis-like sweep, a sense of grandeur and a magnificent frenzy towards the close firmly wiping the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra's performance in their cycle last November from the memory. It seemed more thrilling than both his Oslo and Concertgebouw recordings, but then it's always unfair to judge a live reading against a CD.
For the encore we were treated to more Sibelius in the form of Valse Triste (and here I must come clean and admit my Sibelian credentials took a knock as I failed entirely to recognise it, indeed, from the dance like figure in the middle I mistook it for Strauss, my brother got it in one - excuse me while I hang me head in shame) which was sublimely played. This was followed by genuine Strauss, my brother tells me a waltz, gloriously silly and with absurd forces, including something that was essentially the cousin of an old-fashioned football rattle, from Rosenkavalier. While this was nicely played, both slightly reinforced something I've felt for a while - a good encore is hard, if not impossible to bring off. The end of Sibelius's second is spectacular and I don't need anything else afterwards. If you've played it as well as the Bavarians had, it's difficult to follow it in anyway that will improve. Best left alone. This was one of the great lessons of McMaster's programming of the Beethoven and Bruckner symphonies in individual concerts last year, it was amazing how satisfying a gem like the 4th or 8th could be on its own.
Mind you, perhaps, given the rapturous reception, they could be excused it. This was enthusiastic applause, and deservedly so. But it was also slightly the applause in the way that a man who has come across an oasis in the desert drinks. This is a slightly unfair metaphor, as there have been many fine things prior to this in this year's programme (Ades and the COE, Brendel, Jarvi and the RSNO, the BBC Scottish, the SCO), but this was orchestral playing in another league, and one that so far hadn't been present. Indeed, it was enough to draw out previous director, Brian McMaster who, as well as Liberal Democrat leader Menzies Campbell, could be spotted taking his seat in the grand circle.
The Bavarians were back the following evening with a more solid programme: Beethoven's Egmont overture, Debussy's La Mer and Shostakovich's 5th symphony (of whose work Jansons is a renowned interpreter). The orchestra's playing in the Beethoven was wonderfully rich. Jansons gave a very exciting and at times fierce reading which called to mind Harding's disc of overtures with the Bremen Deutsche Kammerphilharmonie. Certainly it was better than his recent, and not entirely successful, disc of Beethoven's second symphony with the Concertgebouw. True, the way he judged his pauses didn't always totally work at the start, they felt a little forced rather than the unbearable tension someone like Mackerras makes of them. None the less, it was a fine curtain raiser.
With La Mer, I must once again confess, I don't overly care for the work; I don't think it conjures the sea half as well as something like Britten's interludes. I have just one lukewarm recording in my collection (from Abbado and his Lucerne orchestra) and have only heard it live once before, when the Cleveland Orchestra paired it with Mahler's seventh during their memorable visit 3 years ago. They played it well enough and Jansons' control at the start (using just his fingers - was impressive), but I must leave it to wiser persons to judge the interpretation.
The real treat came in the second half with the Shostakovich 5th. One his more accessible, coming as it does from a period when he needed to curry favour following the disgrace that Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk had brought. The slow opening movement was beautifully played, the same rich textures that had marked out the Beethoven present here, and the same fierce power when called for. Jansons brought a real wit and panache to the second movement while giving us a darkly haunting largo. The finale was nothing short of electric. Jansons chose a brisk tempo, but the orchestra held up impressively where a lesser band might have stumbled. It was exciting from the opening and only got better. I haven't yet sampled any of his readings on disc, but have spied the EMI cycle (which features a number of orchestras, including the Bavarians) cheaply; part of me wonders whether I really need more to set beside the Haitink, Kondrashin and Rostropovich cycles, and the part of me that was listening to this performance says 'hell yes'.
As I read the paragraph back, I realise what a poor review it is. But then it's always harder to write about something that's blown you away. For a start, you get swept up, whereas in a dire reading you have ample time to sit back and note the million reasons why. From the reception, those present seemed to have agreed. We got another two encores, though the way the symphony finished, I really wish we hadn't. I have no idea what they were (I wish that conductors would sometimes announce them), the note in my programme says "Mozart?" for the first and "something else" for the second. Anyone reading this who knows better is very welcome to share that knowledge.
All in all, two extremely impressive nights I won't soon forget. So much so that at the start of November I shall be catching this team in London from Haydn's 101st symphony and Mahler's 5th.
The playing of the orchestra was exceptional (not least their ability in the quietest passages, which I think is always one thing that separates the good from the great) and ranks alongside the Berliners and the Clevelanders as one of the absolute finest it has been my privilege to hear live. Jansons' conducting was something special to watch too. Every movement gained a response (as opposed to some whose flouncing gestures seem irrelevant). There were one or two fascinating moments when he seemed to stop altogether, almost as if saying 'you know what to do here, you should be paying attention to that, anything I add at this stage will only get in the way'.
I feel luck to have seen and heard this, and if you get the chance you should too.
regards, Tam
I have had an affection for the orchestra for some while, mainly through their long association with Eugen Jochum who was their music director during the 50s and built the foundations that make them so fine today (which is why it was arguable as well that he was passed over for the Berlin Philharmonic directorship in favour Herbert von Karajan). Jansons too missed out on the Berlin job when it went to Simon Rattle, though this may have been partly due to his health at the time. Now he holds both the Bavarian and Concertgebouw jobs and has impressed me greatly with his recordings of Mahler and Sibelius. To cut a long story short, or rather shorter, I'd been very much looking forward to these two visits as, on paper, they were arguably the highlights of the programme. This is a dangerous position, since it can lead to disappointment.
But if they normally play this well, I don't think that can be the case terribly often. The first programme, on Monday 27th August, brought Strauss and Sibelius. And here lies my only real quibble with Jansons' choices: Also sprach Zarathustra. Now, I'll admit to not being the world's greatest fan of Strauss, but I suspect even his devotees would acknowledge this isn't his finest moment (certainly my brother, who is always berating me for my lukewarm views on the composer, would say so). The opening few moments, as immortalised by Stanley Kubrick in 2001 A Space Odyssey, are magnificent and the Bavarians played them to perfection. The trouble is that after that there isn't anything quite so magnificent. There are some nice climaxes and Jansons gets some wonderful undulating textures out of his players. However, it does slightly suffer, in the same way as his recording of Heldenleben on the Concertgebouw's own label, from a slightly disjointed feeling. The other disappointment was in the use of the electric organ - I have keenly felt in the years since its 2003 restoration that the Usher Hall's organ has been under-utilised, and this seemed another example. However, I am told by people who know far more than I, that it would not have balanced correctly for the piece and so I shall take them at their word. Tantalising though the piece's quiet end is, it still leaves you thinking of those opening bars.
The meat came in the second half with Sibelius's second symphony. Instantly the weight of this orchestra set the performance apart from the readings of the third and fourth from earlier in the festival. The playing was exceptionally fine and I thought Jansons phrased passages beautifully. He brought a control and, at times, impressive delicacy and if not having quite the sweep that Colin Davis would bring, found a nice ebb and flow. In this symphony particularly, though it holds for much of Sibelius, I find one of the principle axes along which interpretations can be judged is warmth: at one end would sit Bernstein's frigid Vienna reading, and at the other Barbirolli's sunny Halle performance. Jansons falls somewhere in the middle, generally on the warm side. The second movement was more impressive: rough and edgy, painting a vivid landscape as all the best Sibelians seem to, and yet with moments of exceptional beauty. He gave it a darker hue than the first. This was followed by an extremely exciting vivacissimo marked by exceptional string playing. Jansons built the tensions expertly and made a brilliant transition into the finale. And present here was a Davis-like sweep, a sense of grandeur and a magnificent frenzy towards the close firmly wiping the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra's performance in their cycle last November from the memory. It seemed more thrilling than both his Oslo and Concertgebouw recordings, but then it's always unfair to judge a live reading against a CD.
For the encore we were treated to more Sibelius in the form of Valse Triste (and here I must come clean and admit my Sibelian credentials took a knock as I failed entirely to recognise it, indeed, from the dance like figure in the middle I mistook it for Strauss, my brother got it in one - excuse me while I hang me head in shame) which was sublimely played. This was followed by genuine Strauss, my brother tells me a waltz, gloriously silly and with absurd forces, including something that was essentially the cousin of an old-fashioned football rattle, from Rosenkavalier. While this was nicely played, both slightly reinforced something I've felt for a while - a good encore is hard, if not impossible to bring off. The end of Sibelius's second is spectacular and I don't need anything else afterwards. If you've played it as well as the Bavarians had, it's difficult to follow it in anyway that will improve. Best left alone. This was one of the great lessons of McMaster's programming of the Beethoven and Bruckner symphonies in individual concerts last year, it was amazing how satisfying a gem like the 4th or 8th could be on its own.
Mind you, perhaps, given the rapturous reception, they could be excused it. This was enthusiastic applause, and deservedly so. But it was also slightly the applause in the way that a man who has come across an oasis in the desert drinks. This is a slightly unfair metaphor, as there have been many fine things prior to this in this year's programme (Ades and the COE, Brendel, Jarvi and the RSNO, the BBC Scottish, the SCO), but this was orchestral playing in another league, and one that so far hadn't been present. Indeed, it was enough to draw out previous director, Brian McMaster who, as well as Liberal Democrat leader Menzies Campbell, could be spotted taking his seat in the grand circle.
The Bavarians were back the following evening with a more solid programme: Beethoven's Egmont overture, Debussy's La Mer and Shostakovich's 5th symphony (of whose work Jansons is a renowned interpreter). The orchestra's playing in the Beethoven was wonderfully rich. Jansons gave a very exciting and at times fierce reading which called to mind Harding's disc of overtures with the Bremen Deutsche Kammerphilharmonie. Certainly it was better than his recent, and not entirely successful, disc of Beethoven's second symphony with the Concertgebouw. True, the way he judged his pauses didn't always totally work at the start, they felt a little forced rather than the unbearable tension someone like Mackerras makes of them. None the less, it was a fine curtain raiser.
With La Mer, I must once again confess, I don't overly care for the work; I don't think it conjures the sea half as well as something like Britten's interludes. I have just one lukewarm recording in my collection (from Abbado and his Lucerne orchestra) and have only heard it live once before, when the Cleveland Orchestra paired it with Mahler's seventh during their memorable visit 3 years ago. They played it well enough and Jansons' control at the start (using just his fingers - was impressive), but I must leave it to wiser persons to judge the interpretation.
The real treat came in the second half with the Shostakovich 5th. One his more accessible, coming as it does from a period when he needed to curry favour following the disgrace that Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk had brought. The slow opening movement was beautifully played, the same rich textures that had marked out the Beethoven present here, and the same fierce power when called for. Jansons brought a real wit and panache to the second movement while giving us a darkly haunting largo. The finale was nothing short of electric. Jansons chose a brisk tempo, but the orchestra held up impressively where a lesser band might have stumbled. It was exciting from the opening and only got better. I haven't yet sampled any of his readings on disc, but have spied the EMI cycle (which features a number of orchestras, including the Bavarians) cheaply; part of me wonders whether I really need more to set beside the Haitink, Kondrashin and Rostropovich cycles, and the part of me that was listening to this performance says 'hell yes'.
As I read the paragraph back, I realise what a poor review it is. But then it's always harder to write about something that's blown you away. For a start, you get swept up, whereas in a dire reading you have ample time to sit back and note the million reasons why. From the reception, those present seemed to have agreed. We got another two encores, though the way the symphony finished, I really wish we hadn't. I have no idea what they were (I wish that conductors would sometimes announce them), the note in my programme says "Mozart?" for the first and "something else" for the second. Anyone reading this who knows better is very welcome to share that knowledge.
All in all, two extremely impressive nights I won't soon forget. So much so that at the start of November I shall be catching this team in London from Haydn's 101st symphony and Mahler's 5th.
The playing of the orchestra was exceptional (not least their ability in the quietest passages, which I think is always one thing that separates the good from the great) and ranks alongside the Berliners and the Clevelanders as one of the absolute finest it has been my privilege to hear live. Jansons' conducting was something special to watch too. Every movement gained a response (as opposed to some whose flouncing gestures seem irrelevant). There were one or two fascinating moments when he seemed to stop altogether, almost as if saying 'you know what to do here, you should be paying attention to that, anything I add at this stage will only get in the way'.
I feel luck to have seen and heard this, and if you get the chance you should too.
regards, Tam
Posted on: 16 September 2007 by Tam
*
Posted on: 07 October 2007 by Tam
Just to finish up, the last couple of concerts.
It's not fair really. The Bavarians are one of the very best orchestras in the world, and to have to follow them is not a task to be envied. At the festival it fell to Michael Tilson Thomas and the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra. When I first spotted these two concerts in the programme I rushed to book both, in part because of the relative lack of top visiting orchestral names this year, in part because of the comparative absence of Mahler (though we have arguably been overserved with this composer in recent years). But after such drama and quality of playing, even a very fine ensemble would struggle to impress. I suppose, then, that the SFO deserve a measure of latitude in this regard. For reasons that may become apparent as I write, I feel Mr Tilson Thomas deserves none.
As they sat warming up on Wednesday 29th August, I could hear strains of the opening of the finale of Copland's 3rd symphony, which I ignorantly thought a little odd (since it wasn't on the programme). If I knew more about Copland than what is contained in my Bernstein Collectors Edition boxed sets, I would know that it's lifted from the Fanfare for the Comman Man, which was first up. It was also difficult not to notice that, for the third night running, the Usher Hall's own podium was absent. Mr Tilson Thomas, it seems, requires one that is entirely black (possibly to match his attire) and with no rail. The house lights dim. Nothing happens. Finally he emerges, takes his time bowing, before finally launching into the Copland. And what a tune this is. Tilson Thomas took it loudly, as one might argue a fanfare should be. But there was little variety to his reading. It was loud throughout. In truth, it was rather bland, there is no comparison with the range of emotion Bernstein finds on disc. We then moved onto a piece by Ruth Crawford Seeger, her Andante for Strings. Seeger is, according to the programme note, one of those composers whom history has unjustly neglected. Possibly the performance was to blame, but we didn't feel that history had been unkind. Without the slightest pause we lurched into Adams' Short Ride in a Fast Machine, surely this was not what the composer intended. And what a fun piece this is and the SF orchestra played it well. But, once again, there was not quite enough variety to the reading.
What might be termed the overtures over, we got a concerto: Prokofiev's 3rd piano concert with soloist Yefim Bronfman (of whom I have heard good reports in Beethoven's first concerto with Mackerras) who, in an unfortunate error, does not seem to merit a credit at the front of the programme with everyone else. It's not a work I know, but in my experience Prokofiev isn't dull. Or rather, shouldn't be. Here it was, there was no edge to the orchestra. Contrast this with the finest readings on the LSO's cycle of the symphonies with Gergiev. The balance between soloist and orchestra was very poor too. The Usher Hall never normally has this problem, so I place the blame on Tilson Thomas for riding over the piano. This tracks with the fact that there didn't seem to be a huge amount of communication going on between soloist and conductor. The orchestra's quiet playing (something Tilson Thomas hadn't really asked of them before) wasn't a patch on the Bavarians. The variations in the central movement were truly bizarre, in that they didn't feel the least like a set of variations, so little variety was there in Tilson Thomas's reading, especially in tempi. All in all, it was a major disappointment taking us into the interval. A stiff drink was called for, certainly it couldn't hurt.
The second half was also from Russia, but this time Tchaikovsky's 1st symphony, Winter Daydreams, not that you'd have guessed the title from the reading we got, so lacking was it in any sense of temperature. Tension was missing too. There were some odd orchestral balances, especially with the flutes. Again the orchestra's skill in the quieter passages was an issue. However, in fairness, here at least Tilson Thomas did provide a measure of variation in his approach. The adagio began much more promisingly, here at last was some passion, some beauty. But it was fleeting. The reading soon slipped back into dullness. The scherzo was worse. He didn't really play it like a scherzo, and here his conducting was particularly odd - there would be huge sweeping gestures producing not the slightest audible effect (it should be noted that this was typical of his conducting, but simply more pronounced in this movement). In the finale, Mr Tilson Thomas clearly believed that fast and loud equalled exciting. He was mistaken. This is especially true when the band was unable to hold together at the tempi he selected, as too often it was. All in all, a deeply disappointing evening.
And yet we seemed to be in a minority (though the Herald's Michael Tumulty agreed with us, doling out a mere two stars). There was loud applause (though, had one had a decibel meter, it certainly would have been less than Jansons and his Bavarians achieved). Tilson Thomas flounced on and off the stage in the manner of a man who fancies himself to an unbelievable degree. I was reminded of the film Top Gun: "Son, your ego's writing cheques your body can't cash." We got an encore and he decided to announce it. The one time a conductor needn't have bothered, since the Overture to Bernstein's Candide is rather hard to miss. He talked too much introducing it, one rather wished he'd been influenced rather more by the great man in his conducting. He took it too fast and thus provided no contrast with the lyrical second subject. Again, his orchestra was not always quite up to the tempi he chose.
Yet there was more applause, and more flouncing from Mr Tilson Thomas: he closed by miming that he was going off to bed after this - just in case we were concerned. When I got home I did something I almost never do: went to my CD collection and recreated part of the concert: Bernstein conducting the NYPO for the Tchaik and the Copland and the LSO for the Candide. The passion, the contrast he brought underscored just what had been lacking. The comparison was the more telling given Tilson Thomas's references to Bernstein, his work in San Francisco and encounters with Tilson Thomas when he introduced the encore.
It was, therefore, with trepidation and dramatically lowered expectations that I returned to the Usher Hall on Thursday 30th. In fairness, my expectations had already been knocked down twice before. A few months before the festival, while browsing in a CD shop, I picked up one of Tilson Thomas's Mahler recordings (the 5th) with the San Francisco orchestra, reasoning that as I was soon to hear them live, I might as well hear what I was letting myself in for; the results were not confidence inspiring. Then, there had been my brother's dire reports of Deborah Voigt. But even this could not have fully prepared me for the horror that was in store. Her voice is terrible, hideous even. She is quite unable to sustain long notes, be they low or high, quiet or loud, without cracks or wobbles. She was singing the final scene from Salome, but, to be honest, it was difficult to judge the piece as a whole or the accompaniment, so distracting was the voice. Another conductor might have provided more support, but I'm dubious about the extent to which it would have helped. Personally I feel that it shows some nerve to charge people to hear a singer who has wrecked her voice this completely. However, plenty in the audience disagreed and cheered loudly. I am at a loss to explain why. Often, for example when I find a performance dull and someone else is inspired, I can easily accept that it is purely a matter of taste, but I fail to see how anyone can find these sorts of technical flaw appealing. I was not altogether alone - a number of people did not return from the interval.
The second half could only be better. Though I did wonder if I wouldn't have been wiser to join my brother for Capriccio. After the interval we were given Mahler's 7th symphony. I have been fond of this work ever since I first heard it in concert from Marin Alsop and the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra. They gave a wonderfully coherent performance that completely made sense of this as Mahler's long journey through the night. It was not to be repeated on this occasion. The first movement was rather bland, but more critically it was far too bright and upbeat where a journey into the dark, the unknown, is so much more appropriate. He seemed to have little sense of any big picture (a shame as there are moments in this work were Mahler hints at where he's going). However, it did help to answer one question I had had. How good an orchestra might this be without Tilson Thomas? There are a number of solos in which, unfortunately, the players were in general unflatteringly exposed, the euphonium and first trombone excepted. I should point out something here. When I voiced this view on the Radio 3 messageboard recently I was derided and all but called an idiot since this passage isn't scored for the instrument. I myself was surprised to see it, but I know a euphonium when I see one, and sure enough, after the proms, a former professional trombonist confirmed this. The second movement got off to a poor start too, but the insights into Tilson Thomas's conducting kept flowing: the more complex becomes the score (and in this symphony it gets very complex), the less activity there is from him. Again, in this nachtmusik, any sense of night was as absent as the winter in the previous evening's Tchaikovsky. The off stage percussion didn't work at all, and I was left wishing for Donald Runnicles, who has a wonderful sense for such things. As the scherzo opened he finally seemed to have something to say. But soon things reverted to blandness as he is apparently only interested in the big tunes. There is a wonderful sense of 'things that go bump in the night' when this is well played. Not in this performance. The second nachtmusik was even blander. This movement is bizarre, surreal (with its lute), for me it calls to mind those oddest of dreams that make no sense and come shortly before waking. But Tilson Thomas was going out of his way, or so it seemed, to iron any of that sort of thing out. And so to the finale. One of the toughest pieces that Mahler wrote - the amount going on in the orchestra can make it difficult to hold together coherently (both for conductor and players) and even the great Mahlerian Klaus Tennstedt never fell in love with it. But I adore the daybreak encapsulated in this, with its pastiche of Wagner's Meistersing. Given this team had struggled with speed and complexity, I expected a train wreck here. For the most part it was, though not quite as awful as might have been expected. It doesn't help him that they have in no way earned a daybreak - we haven't been on the long journey through the night, so it is meaningless. The end, where light finally triumphs, was just muddled.
There was loud applause. There were also people leaving. Odd for Mahler in Edinburgh, given it wasn't running long. Tilson Thomas and the San Franciscans have not only recorded this, but have won a Grammy. I cannot for the life of me explain why that may be. Especially given the work Abbado has been doing with Mahler of late. As I headed for the pub, I wondered if my brother had had better luck at Capriccio. He hadn't and seemed as in need of libation as I was.
All in all, a deeply disappointing two evenings. And on top of it all sits the irritating Tilson Thomas. His infuriating self-adoration. His apparent disregard for anything not a big tune. His inability to pick tempi his orchestra can cope with or to communicate effectively with them. True, there are worse. Roger Norrington stands unique amongst artists I have seen in that he provoked feelings of physical violence from me (not acted upon, I hasten to add) as he constantly turned to the audience mid-performance, grinning maniacally. I so disliked the experience, I resolved then that I would not attend another concert from him or buy a CD. So, in the grand scheme of things, Tilson Thomas could have been worse, but I certainly shalln't rush to hear him or his orchestra again.
regards, Tam
It's not fair really. The Bavarians are one of the very best orchestras in the world, and to have to follow them is not a task to be envied. At the festival it fell to Michael Tilson Thomas and the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra. When I first spotted these two concerts in the programme I rushed to book both, in part because of the relative lack of top visiting orchestral names this year, in part because of the comparative absence of Mahler (though we have arguably been overserved with this composer in recent years). But after such drama and quality of playing, even a very fine ensemble would struggle to impress. I suppose, then, that the SFO deserve a measure of latitude in this regard. For reasons that may become apparent as I write, I feel Mr Tilson Thomas deserves none.
As they sat warming up on Wednesday 29th August, I could hear strains of the opening of the finale of Copland's 3rd symphony, which I ignorantly thought a little odd (since it wasn't on the programme). If I knew more about Copland than what is contained in my Bernstein Collectors Edition boxed sets, I would know that it's lifted from the Fanfare for the Comman Man, which was first up. It was also difficult not to notice that, for the third night running, the Usher Hall's own podium was absent. Mr Tilson Thomas, it seems, requires one that is entirely black (possibly to match his attire) and with no rail. The house lights dim. Nothing happens. Finally he emerges, takes his time bowing, before finally launching into the Copland. And what a tune this is. Tilson Thomas took it loudly, as one might argue a fanfare should be. But there was little variety to his reading. It was loud throughout. In truth, it was rather bland, there is no comparison with the range of emotion Bernstein finds on disc. We then moved onto a piece by Ruth Crawford Seeger, her Andante for Strings. Seeger is, according to the programme note, one of those composers whom history has unjustly neglected. Possibly the performance was to blame, but we didn't feel that history had been unkind. Without the slightest pause we lurched into Adams' Short Ride in a Fast Machine, surely this was not what the composer intended. And what a fun piece this is and the SF orchestra played it well. But, once again, there was not quite enough variety to the reading.
What might be termed the overtures over, we got a concerto: Prokofiev's 3rd piano concert with soloist Yefim Bronfman (of whom I have heard good reports in Beethoven's first concerto with Mackerras) who, in an unfortunate error, does not seem to merit a credit at the front of the programme with everyone else. It's not a work I know, but in my experience Prokofiev isn't dull. Or rather, shouldn't be. Here it was, there was no edge to the orchestra. Contrast this with the finest readings on the LSO's cycle of the symphonies with Gergiev. The balance between soloist and orchestra was very poor too. The Usher Hall never normally has this problem, so I place the blame on Tilson Thomas for riding over the piano. This tracks with the fact that there didn't seem to be a huge amount of communication going on between soloist and conductor. The orchestra's quiet playing (something Tilson Thomas hadn't really asked of them before) wasn't a patch on the Bavarians. The variations in the central movement were truly bizarre, in that they didn't feel the least like a set of variations, so little variety was there in Tilson Thomas's reading, especially in tempi. All in all, it was a major disappointment taking us into the interval. A stiff drink was called for, certainly it couldn't hurt.
The second half was also from Russia, but this time Tchaikovsky's 1st symphony, Winter Daydreams, not that you'd have guessed the title from the reading we got, so lacking was it in any sense of temperature. Tension was missing too. There were some odd orchestral balances, especially with the flutes. Again the orchestra's skill in the quieter passages was an issue. However, in fairness, here at least Tilson Thomas did provide a measure of variation in his approach. The adagio began much more promisingly, here at last was some passion, some beauty. But it was fleeting. The reading soon slipped back into dullness. The scherzo was worse. He didn't really play it like a scherzo, and here his conducting was particularly odd - there would be huge sweeping gestures producing not the slightest audible effect (it should be noted that this was typical of his conducting, but simply more pronounced in this movement). In the finale, Mr Tilson Thomas clearly believed that fast and loud equalled exciting. He was mistaken. This is especially true when the band was unable to hold together at the tempi he selected, as too often it was. All in all, a deeply disappointing evening.
And yet we seemed to be in a minority (though the Herald's Michael Tumulty agreed with us, doling out a mere two stars). There was loud applause (though, had one had a decibel meter, it certainly would have been less than Jansons and his Bavarians achieved). Tilson Thomas flounced on and off the stage in the manner of a man who fancies himself to an unbelievable degree. I was reminded of the film Top Gun: "Son, your ego's writing cheques your body can't cash." We got an encore and he decided to announce it. The one time a conductor needn't have bothered, since the Overture to Bernstein's Candide is rather hard to miss. He talked too much introducing it, one rather wished he'd been influenced rather more by the great man in his conducting. He took it too fast and thus provided no contrast with the lyrical second subject. Again, his orchestra was not always quite up to the tempi he chose.
Yet there was more applause, and more flouncing from Mr Tilson Thomas: he closed by miming that he was going off to bed after this - just in case we were concerned. When I got home I did something I almost never do: went to my CD collection and recreated part of the concert: Bernstein conducting the NYPO for the Tchaik and the Copland and the LSO for the Candide. The passion, the contrast he brought underscored just what had been lacking. The comparison was the more telling given Tilson Thomas's references to Bernstein, his work in San Francisco and encounters with Tilson Thomas when he introduced the encore.
It was, therefore, with trepidation and dramatically lowered expectations that I returned to the Usher Hall on Thursday 30th. In fairness, my expectations had already been knocked down twice before. A few months before the festival, while browsing in a CD shop, I picked up one of Tilson Thomas's Mahler recordings (the 5th) with the San Francisco orchestra, reasoning that as I was soon to hear them live, I might as well hear what I was letting myself in for; the results were not confidence inspiring. Then, there had been my brother's dire reports of Deborah Voigt. But even this could not have fully prepared me for the horror that was in store. Her voice is terrible, hideous even. She is quite unable to sustain long notes, be they low or high, quiet or loud, without cracks or wobbles. She was singing the final scene from Salome, but, to be honest, it was difficult to judge the piece as a whole or the accompaniment, so distracting was the voice. Another conductor might have provided more support, but I'm dubious about the extent to which it would have helped. Personally I feel that it shows some nerve to charge people to hear a singer who has wrecked her voice this completely. However, plenty in the audience disagreed and cheered loudly. I am at a loss to explain why. Often, for example when I find a performance dull and someone else is inspired, I can easily accept that it is purely a matter of taste, but I fail to see how anyone can find these sorts of technical flaw appealing. I was not altogether alone - a number of people did not return from the interval.
The second half could only be better. Though I did wonder if I wouldn't have been wiser to join my brother for Capriccio. After the interval we were given Mahler's 7th symphony. I have been fond of this work ever since I first heard it in concert from Marin Alsop and the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra. They gave a wonderfully coherent performance that completely made sense of this as Mahler's long journey through the night. It was not to be repeated on this occasion. The first movement was rather bland, but more critically it was far too bright and upbeat where a journey into the dark, the unknown, is so much more appropriate. He seemed to have little sense of any big picture (a shame as there are moments in this work were Mahler hints at where he's going). However, it did help to answer one question I had had. How good an orchestra might this be without Tilson Thomas? There are a number of solos in which, unfortunately, the players were in general unflatteringly exposed, the euphonium and first trombone excepted. I should point out something here. When I voiced this view on the Radio 3 messageboard recently I was derided and all but called an idiot since this passage isn't scored for the instrument. I myself was surprised to see it, but I know a euphonium when I see one, and sure enough, after the proms, a former professional trombonist confirmed this. The second movement got off to a poor start too, but the insights into Tilson Thomas's conducting kept flowing: the more complex becomes the score (and in this symphony it gets very complex), the less activity there is from him. Again, in this nachtmusik, any sense of night was as absent as the winter in the previous evening's Tchaikovsky. The off stage percussion didn't work at all, and I was left wishing for Donald Runnicles, who has a wonderful sense for such things. As the scherzo opened he finally seemed to have something to say. But soon things reverted to blandness as he is apparently only interested in the big tunes. There is a wonderful sense of 'things that go bump in the night' when this is well played. Not in this performance. The second nachtmusik was even blander. This movement is bizarre, surreal (with its lute), for me it calls to mind those oddest of dreams that make no sense and come shortly before waking. But Tilson Thomas was going out of his way, or so it seemed, to iron any of that sort of thing out. And so to the finale. One of the toughest pieces that Mahler wrote - the amount going on in the orchestra can make it difficult to hold together coherently (both for conductor and players) and even the great Mahlerian Klaus Tennstedt never fell in love with it. But I adore the daybreak encapsulated in this, with its pastiche of Wagner's Meistersing. Given this team had struggled with speed and complexity, I expected a train wreck here. For the most part it was, though not quite as awful as might have been expected. It doesn't help him that they have in no way earned a daybreak - we haven't been on the long journey through the night, so it is meaningless. The end, where light finally triumphs, was just muddled.
There was loud applause. There were also people leaving. Odd for Mahler in Edinburgh, given it wasn't running long. Tilson Thomas and the San Franciscans have not only recorded this, but have won a Grammy. I cannot for the life of me explain why that may be. Especially given the work Abbado has been doing with Mahler of late. As I headed for the pub, I wondered if my brother had had better luck at Capriccio. He hadn't and seemed as in need of libation as I was.
All in all, a deeply disappointing two evenings. And on top of it all sits the irritating Tilson Thomas. His infuriating self-adoration. His apparent disregard for anything not a big tune. His inability to pick tempi his orchestra can cope with or to communicate effectively with them. True, there are worse. Roger Norrington stands unique amongst artists I have seen in that he provoked feelings of physical violence from me (not acted upon, I hasten to add) as he constantly turned to the audience mid-performance, grinning maniacally. I so disliked the experience, I resolved then that I would not attend another concert from him or buy a CD. So, in the grand scheme of things, Tilson Thomas could have been worse, but I certainly shalln't rush to hear him or his orchestra again.
regards, Tam
Posted on: 07 October 2007 by Tam
Fresh from the experience of San Francisco, things could only get better. However, my expectations were not high for the Gurzenich Orchestra, after all, they are also the orchestra of Cologne Opera, whom my brother had not overly appreciated in Capriccio. Furthermore, Gabriele Fontana, who was joining the programme with the last minute addition of three Strauss songs, had come in for particular criticism.
But, it's always as well to go in with low expectations, that way it's harder to be disappointed (though not impossible, as anyone who watched Star Wars, Episode Two: Attack of the Clones, can surely attest). I was further aided in that I came fresh from the pub as a colleague had just left, which can't have hurt.
They began with Strauss's Till Eulenspiegel. It was clear for the outset that this was not a first rate orchestra and there were a few too many fluffed notes. The reading too lacked variety, for much of the time too fast and too furious and not enough luxuriating in the richness of Strauss's orchestration. Better was to follow with some newish music: Bernd Alois Zimmermann's Photoptosis. Stenz (the conductor) turned to address the audience and gave us a passionate explanation of the piece that put the programme note to shame. Essentially, and I'm afraid I am not doing his explanation justice, the piece is all about rays of light. In the first section the music captures a vast blue canvas, in the second he shows it up close and in detail, littered with quotes from Beethoven, Bach, Wagner and much more (there are twelve apparently, of which I spotted both from Beethoven's 9th, the Wagner, from Parsifal, and I think possibly the Brandenburg - and felt a little smug as he said he only got two on his first listen). The third section gives what Stenz described as a moment of calm, based on the idea of light as a wave. It builds to a close and mesmerises in a rather Messiaenic way. A wonderfully fresh piece and well played, it clearly helped that the conductor had great enthusiasm for it, though I wonder whether it's the kind of work that doesn't transfer well to the silver disc. Either way it was something of a highlight.
The second half brought us Schumann's 3rd 'Rhenish' symphony. I'm not hugely familiar with Schumann's work, but the third is one of those pieces whose opening bars are instantly familiar (a little like Mendelssohn's 4th in that regard). The orchestra's playing was somewhat ropey and there was a lack of focus both in comparison to the Bavarians but also to the San Franciscans. But that didn't really matter because they had something much better: passion. The orchestra was brimming over with enthusiasm (perhaps not quite so much so as, say, Barenboim's West-Eastern Divan Orchestra of Arab and Israeli teenagers a couple of years ago, but certainly an unusually impressive amount). This more than made up for the flaws in the playing, of which there were plenty, and resulted in a far more satisfying experience than anything delivered by Tilson Thomas.
The concert closed with an appearance by Gabriele Fontana, a late addition to the programme and fresh from her performances in Capriccio. She gave us 3 Strauss songs: Das Rosenband, Morgen! and Cacilie. My brother had warned me of the quality of her voice, which had been one of the many things that he had found lacking in Capriccio and having had my expectations of what a soprano could do suitably lowered by Deborah Voigt, I was forearmed as she took to the stage. On the plus side Stenz provided perfectly good accompaniment. But Fontana's voice was simply not very good. It was, however, fascinating to listen to: every now and again you would think 'oh, this is quite nice' and then suddenly it would go horribly off and sour. She is a singer best avoided.
Still, all in all it was an enjoyable evening in the concert hall. I'm very glad to have heard the Zimmermann, and may well have to seek out a recording, and I was thoroughly swept along in the Schumann. While not the greatest orchestra I've heard, and certainly comparing poorly against Scotland's three main ones, they were far from the worst.
Saturday 1st September brought the closing concert, not counting the fireworks, which I don't, and the realisation that this review isn't even vaguely timely. Deneve led the Royal Scottish National Orchestra in a celebration of Poulenc, about whose music I know next to nothing other than that he's French. I will confess that in the past I've been a little lukewarm about Deneve, his Bruckner 4th last year fell flat, for example, and in truth the evening's main draw was soprano Christine Brewer. However, it seems I may have been unfair to him. Here, in French repertoire, he is clearly at home and very persuasive. He got some wonderful playing from the RSNO throughout, and really underscored how much they've closed the distance with the BBC Scottish in the last couple of years. But the star was Christine Brewer: her effortless power soaring over the orchestra, the sheer beauty of her voice. I would be interested to find out if she's recorded the work.
Following the interval came the organ concerto and an appearance by Gillian Weir (and some welcome use of the hall's organ, which hasn't really got the use it ought since its restoration in 2003). She gave a wonderful reading, and again left me anxious to become better acquainted with the work. Finally we received exerts from his opera Dialogues des Carmelites. Wonderfully played and sung, and directed. The drama was heightened at the end as the nuns arranged themselves in a row at the front of the stage (in such a manner that the BBC didn't place nearly enough microphones to properly catch the event). As the percussion sound for the guillotine came down, from left to right they bowed their heads one at a time. Actually, it was until about the 4th of these before I realised what the sound was (rather than some infuriating noise off), but the effect was powerful. It was one of the finest pieces of concert staging I've seen. Indeed, it called to mind the fact that in the Proms Gotterdammerung (superbly conducted by Donald Runnicles) a director was credited, despite the fact that any work he might have done wasn't much in evidence. Contrast the festival where I've seen many concert operas, and never once have I noticed such a credit (though, in truth, this was the only occasion I can recall where it would have been merited).
All in all it was a wonderful evening of French music and a fine close to the 2007 festival.
regards, Tam
But, it's always as well to go in with low expectations, that way it's harder to be disappointed (though not impossible, as anyone who watched Star Wars, Episode Two: Attack of the Clones, can surely attest). I was further aided in that I came fresh from the pub as a colleague had just left, which can't have hurt.
They began with Strauss's Till Eulenspiegel. It was clear for the outset that this was not a first rate orchestra and there were a few too many fluffed notes. The reading too lacked variety, for much of the time too fast and too furious and not enough luxuriating in the richness of Strauss's orchestration. Better was to follow with some newish music: Bernd Alois Zimmermann's Photoptosis. Stenz (the conductor) turned to address the audience and gave us a passionate explanation of the piece that put the programme note to shame. Essentially, and I'm afraid I am not doing his explanation justice, the piece is all about rays of light. In the first section the music captures a vast blue canvas, in the second he shows it up close and in detail, littered with quotes from Beethoven, Bach, Wagner and much more (there are twelve apparently, of which I spotted both from Beethoven's 9th, the Wagner, from Parsifal, and I think possibly the Brandenburg - and felt a little smug as he said he only got two on his first listen). The third section gives what Stenz described as a moment of calm, based on the idea of light as a wave. It builds to a close and mesmerises in a rather Messiaenic way. A wonderfully fresh piece and well played, it clearly helped that the conductor had great enthusiasm for it, though I wonder whether it's the kind of work that doesn't transfer well to the silver disc. Either way it was something of a highlight.
The second half brought us Schumann's 3rd 'Rhenish' symphony. I'm not hugely familiar with Schumann's work, but the third is one of those pieces whose opening bars are instantly familiar (a little like Mendelssohn's 4th in that regard). The orchestra's playing was somewhat ropey and there was a lack of focus both in comparison to the Bavarians but also to the San Franciscans. But that didn't really matter because they had something much better: passion. The orchestra was brimming over with enthusiasm (perhaps not quite so much so as, say, Barenboim's West-Eastern Divan Orchestra of Arab and Israeli teenagers a couple of years ago, but certainly an unusually impressive amount). This more than made up for the flaws in the playing, of which there were plenty, and resulted in a far more satisfying experience than anything delivered by Tilson Thomas.
The concert closed with an appearance by Gabriele Fontana, a late addition to the programme and fresh from her performances in Capriccio. She gave us 3 Strauss songs: Das Rosenband, Morgen! and Cacilie. My brother had warned me of the quality of her voice, which had been one of the many things that he had found lacking in Capriccio and having had my expectations of what a soprano could do suitably lowered by Deborah Voigt, I was forearmed as she took to the stage. On the plus side Stenz provided perfectly good accompaniment. But Fontana's voice was simply not very good. It was, however, fascinating to listen to: every now and again you would think 'oh, this is quite nice' and then suddenly it would go horribly off and sour. She is a singer best avoided.
Still, all in all it was an enjoyable evening in the concert hall. I'm very glad to have heard the Zimmermann, and may well have to seek out a recording, and I was thoroughly swept along in the Schumann. While not the greatest orchestra I've heard, and certainly comparing poorly against Scotland's three main ones, they were far from the worst.
Saturday 1st September brought the closing concert, not counting the fireworks, which I don't, and the realisation that this review isn't even vaguely timely. Deneve led the Royal Scottish National Orchestra in a celebration of Poulenc, about whose music I know next to nothing other than that he's French. I will confess that in the past I've been a little lukewarm about Deneve, his Bruckner 4th last year fell flat, for example, and in truth the evening's main draw was soprano Christine Brewer. However, it seems I may have been unfair to him. Here, in French repertoire, he is clearly at home and very persuasive. He got some wonderful playing from the RSNO throughout, and really underscored how much they've closed the distance with the BBC Scottish in the last couple of years. But the star was Christine Brewer: her effortless power soaring over the orchestra, the sheer beauty of her voice. I would be interested to find out if she's recorded the work.
Following the interval came the organ concerto and an appearance by Gillian Weir (and some welcome use of the hall's organ, which hasn't really got the use it ought since its restoration in 2003). She gave a wonderful reading, and again left me anxious to become better acquainted with the work. Finally we received exerts from his opera Dialogues des Carmelites. Wonderfully played and sung, and directed. The drama was heightened at the end as the nuns arranged themselves in a row at the front of the stage (in such a manner that the BBC didn't place nearly enough microphones to properly catch the event). As the percussion sound for the guillotine came down, from left to right they bowed their heads one at a time. Actually, it was until about the 4th of these before I realised what the sound was (rather than some infuriating noise off), but the effect was powerful. It was one of the finest pieces of concert staging I've seen. Indeed, it called to mind the fact that in the Proms Gotterdammerung (superbly conducted by Donald Runnicles) a director was credited, despite the fact that any work he might have done wasn't much in evidence. Contrast the festival where I've seen many concert operas, and never once have I noticed such a credit (though, in truth, this was the only occasion I can recall where it would have been merited).
All in all it was a wonderful evening of French music and a fine close to the 2007 festival.
regards, Tam
Posted on: 07 October 2007 by Tam
So in summary.... The king is dead, long live the king? Well, not quite. I liked a lot about this year's festival, in many ways more than I thought I would. But at the same time, the body of work I sampled was much reduced on previous years, in part due to ambivalence when the programme was released and in part to other commitments. I passed by the director's foray into early music and the near disaster that seems to have been the drama this year. I also didn't make a single one of the Queen's Hall concerts.
However, there was some very interesting programming: the Poulenc and a much more adventurous attitude to new music (Ades and Zimmermann being particular highlights). And while I didn't really engage with them this time, I do like the idea of stronger and more thematic programming. Brendel was magical, so too were the Bavarians.
But, this was no perfect year either, there some really turkeys: Tilson Thomas, the San Franciscans and Voigt being chief among them, but from what Finn says this was a poor year for staged opera and drama. But, awarding the benefit of the doubt, it is true that these are arguably the trickiest and most expensive areas. Mills had severe budget constraints, the festival having been over a million pounds in debt when he took it on, and if the rumours I have heard are accurate, next to nothing had been left on the slate. It is clearly the case both that McMaster behaved badly, in going out with such a glitzy and expensive programme and leaving the finances in such a state and, more crucially, that the Festival Council badly shirked their duty in the process of selecting an appointment. They should have done one of two things: appointed a director elect several years in advance or ensured the outgoing director had engaged much of the programming for a couple of years after his tenure. They chose not to choose and Mr Mills was left to pick up the mess.
Mr Mills has briefly given his own thoughts, and in particular highlighted the Simon Bolivar Orchestra. When the programme came out I deliberately elected to steer clear of this, apparently in the minority as it quickly sold out. I stayed away because I've heard two of his CDs, or at least exerts therefrom, on Radio 3's CD Review. Their disc of Beethoven's 7th symphony proved that I was wrong in thinking that the finale couldn't be taken too fast, though determining whether it was actually the absolute tempo or orchestra's inability to hold up to Dudamel's choice would require more comparative listening. The more recent attempt at Mahler's 5th symphony seemed fairly uninspired. Perhaps much of it is simply experiencing the passion live. The rave reviews would seem to bear this theory out. Then again, Barenboim's West-Eastern Divan Orchestra manage to translate wonderfully to silver disc. If they return next year, I may have to sample them, if only to sate my curiosity on this matter.
There was a puzzling absence of top flight names: where was Mackerras, who achieved such acclaim with his Beethoven last year and has over the past few years built up an excellent relationship with both the festival and the SCO; brilliant though the Bavarians were, they were in a league of their own amongst the orchestras; and, of course, where was the eponymous Runnicles of whose recent performances with the BBC Scottish have shown wonderful chemistry and been a consistent highlight [in fairness to the director, it appears this will be rectified in future].
I'm therefore going to go for a fudge in so far as making any kind of overall assessment is concerned. Some promising signs, others less so, but judgement reserved for the 2008 and 2009 programmes. With time to prepare and without the debt burden bequeathed him, Mills will have a freer hand and the standards against which he shall be judged will be higher. We await next April with interest (and hope that unlike last year, we may get some preliminary information in November).
regards, Tam
However, there was some very interesting programming: the Poulenc and a much more adventurous attitude to new music (Ades and Zimmermann being particular highlights). And while I didn't really engage with them this time, I do like the idea of stronger and more thematic programming. Brendel was magical, so too were the Bavarians.
But, this was no perfect year either, there some really turkeys: Tilson Thomas, the San Franciscans and Voigt being chief among them, but from what Finn says this was a poor year for staged opera and drama. But, awarding the benefit of the doubt, it is true that these are arguably the trickiest and most expensive areas. Mills had severe budget constraints, the festival having been over a million pounds in debt when he took it on, and if the rumours I have heard are accurate, next to nothing had been left on the slate. It is clearly the case both that McMaster behaved badly, in going out with such a glitzy and expensive programme and leaving the finances in such a state and, more crucially, that the Festival Council badly shirked their duty in the process of selecting an appointment. They should have done one of two things: appointed a director elect several years in advance or ensured the outgoing director had engaged much of the programming for a couple of years after his tenure. They chose not to choose and Mr Mills was left to pick up the mess.
Mr Mills has briefly given his own thoughts, and in particular highlighted the Simon Bolivar Orchestra. When the programme came out I deliberately elected to steer clear of this, apparently in the minority as it quickly sold out. I stayed away because I've heard two of his CDs, or at least exerts therefrom, on Radio 3's CD Review. Their disc of Beethoven's 7th symphony proved that I was wrong in thinking that the finale couldn't be taken too fast, though determining whether it was actually the absolute tempo or orchestra's inability to hold up to Dudamel's choice would require more comparative listening. The more recent attempt at Mahler's 5th symphony seemed fairly uninspired. Perhaps much of it is simply experiencing the passion live. The rave reviews would seem to bear this theory out. Then again, Barenboim's West-Eastern Divan Orchestra manage to translate wonderfully to silver disc. If they return next year, I may have to sample them, if only to sate my curiosity on this matter.
There was a puzzling absence of top flight names: where was Mackerras, who achieved such acclaim with his Beethoven last year and has over the past few years built up an excellent relationship with both the festival and the SCO; brilliant though the Bavarians were, they were in a league of their own amongst the orchestras; and, of course, where was the eponymous Runnicles of whose recent performances with the BBC Scottish have shown wonderful chemistry and been a consistent highlight [in fairness to the director, it appears this will be rectified in future].
I'm therefore going to go for a fudge in so far as making any kind of overall assessment is concerned. Some promising signs, others less so, but judgement reserved for the 2008 and 2009 programmes. With time to prepare and without the debt burden bequeathed him, Mills will have a freer hand and the standards against which he shall be judged will be higher. We await next April with interest (and hope that unlike last year, we may get some preliminary information in November).
regards, Tam