Orchestra of the Swan’s 21st Anniversary Concert – The English Genius:Themes and variations

14 March 2017: Stratford ArtsHouse

• Gustav Holst – St Paul’s Suite
• Ralph Vaughan Williams – Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis
• Ralph Vaughan Williams – Symphony no5 in D major

With the first classical symphonies (as we might recognize them today) emerging from around Lombardy in the 1730s, it seems awfully bad form that the earliest English masterpiece of the genre didn’t arrive until 1908: with Elgar’s magnificent opus 55. To make up for its tardiness, though, that work was performed one hundred times in just over a year – in cities as far apart as Manchester and Saint Petersburg.

And, of course, it wasn’t long before other composers took up the baton. So – even though many pundits repeatedly (and fatuously) declared the form dead (globally) during the 20th Century – suddenly, like buses, whole hosts of English symphonic works arrived together! Names that spring to mind as Elgar’s natural heirs include those born ‘just up the road’ in Northampton – William Alwyn, Malcolm Arnold, and Edmund Rubbra: who wrote twenty-five between them. Down the road was Humphrey Searle – born in Oxford – with five. And then, looking south, towards the village (and glorious hymn-tune) of Down Ampney, in Gloucestershire, there emerged probably the country’s greatest symphonic composer to date: Ralph Vaughan Williams, with his traditional sequence of nine.

It never ceases to amaze me just how distinctive in disposition these creations are – and yet all are instantly identifiable as the man’s own. But the Fifth – which closes this 21st Anniversary Concert – is the one which many claim to be his greatest (and I could not disagree).

Ostensibly romantic and beautiful, it should offer respite from the explicit violence of its predecessor; and yet it overflows with ambiguity: inciting doubt, rather than imparting belief. It could, in its own keep-calm-and-carry-on fashion, be seen as a stereotypically English response to the global destruction enveloping its arrival; and yet its heartfelt desolation lies barely beneath its composer’s not-quite-so-stiff upper lip – so does not take much unearthing. It is thus, I contend, the most ‘mortal’ of his symphonies. Indeed, as their creator once stated: “The principles which govern the composition of music… are not the tricks of the trade or even the mysteries of the craft, they are founded on the very nature of human beings.”

110 years after its prodigious birth, the English symphony endures. A wonderful recent example is Peter Maxwell Davies’ Symphony No.10. And we also have the English Symphony Orchestra’s extensive 21st Century Symphony Project – led by OOTS’ former guest conductor Kenneth Woods – launching in a fortnight. Long may it prevail!

Guy Johnston plays Haydn:Themes and variations

23 February 2017: Forum Theatre, Malvern Theatres

• Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Sinfonia Concertante for Four Winds in E-flat major, K297b
• Joseph Haydn – Concerto No.2 in D Major for cello and orchestra, Hob.VIIB:2
• Joseph Haydn – Symphony no59 ‘Feuer’ in A major, Hob.I:59

My dictionary tells me that the simple word ‘fire’ embraces many more meanings than I had rashly assumed: from “the heat and light of burning” through “ardour” and “passion” to “spirited vigour or animation” – and I think those properties can be found in all three of tonight’s works: warming the chill February air equally; but in diverse ways. The compositions are also linked by their instrumentation: the addition of oboes and horns to OOTS’ core strings reinforcing their quintessential translucent, intimate chamber feel – yet producing extended and contrasting variations in both texture and effect.

All written within a period of fifteen years, it would be easy to lump the three pieces in with the contemporary Sturm und Drang movement, as well. However, Mozart’s Sinfonia Concertante, which begins the concert, is lit mainly by the qualities of ardour and passion – especially in its first two movements. Its finale, though, is full of quasi-Haydnesque wit; as well as a great deal of spirited vigour and animation.

The concerto builds on this fervour. Although technically challenging – the fiery, almost explosive, finger-work is as visual a delight as it is an aural one… – Haydn’s writing exploits the timbre of the cello to the full (as well as its range and volume): making it sing. I thus believe it to be one of the greatest works ever composed for the instrument. That it demonstrated (and extended) its expansive capabilities so early on in its history, is, to me, a manifestation of the great composer’s continual willingness to acquire skill and knowledge, to experiment, to stretch… – indeed, a manifestation of his genius.

It differs from his 59th Symphony in many ways – time and experience encouraging complexity, perhaps… – and yet this earlier work still demonstrates Haydn’s lifelong propensity to push at boundaries; as well as his ability to quickly move not only from the ‘stormy’ to the ‘driven’, but the sublime to the, er, humorous (and back again)! In some ways – especially with its opening Presto – it does encapsulate the artistic trend which pivoted around it. And yet, in its finale, the composer – in stamping his mark on the work – almost produces its antithesis: realizing one last definition of its slightly circuitous sobriquet – “refraction of light in a gemstone”. It truly sparkles!

Commissions accomplished…!

As part of OOTS’ 21st Anniversary season, four composers, who have all worked with the orchestra before, were invited to write “companion pieces” to classical ‘concertante’ works – which they would then be premièred alongside – an idea conjured up by orchestra trustee Tim Richards. As David points out, “this gives our principals the opportunity to shine, as well as thanking them for their commitment”; adding that pairing music in this way “gives the orchestra, soloists, audience and composer both context and inspiration”.

Last year’s commissions – Douglas J Cuomo’s Objects in Mirror and Paul Moravec’s Nocturne – were both instant hits. (In fact, I described the Cuomo as “a cracking work: the perfect foil to the Bach that inspired it”; and reported that Moravec’s “left me with a mammoth lump in my throat, and several large somethings in both eyes”.) I am therefore certain that this year’s will follow in their winning footsteps.

Julian Philips’ composition (to be premièred in June) is for viola and double-bass. David commented that “Julian is an old friend of OOTS, and I expect something slightly more ‘traditional’. Because he knows us so well, I’m sure he will want to capitalize on our distinctive string sound.”

¶

Asked about Joanna Lee – whose Blue Blaze – Dance Suite will be performed this month – David explained that “Joanna is relatively young: and OOTS believes in championing emerging talent.” He went on to say: “I have always been struck by her inventiveness and highly individual voice: so her work is likely to be quite challenging for audience and players – fully exploiting the characteristics of the solo instruments – but also very witty and light-hearted!”

Mozart, meet Joanna Lee!Themes and variations

14 February 2017: Stratford ArtsHouse
22 February 2017: Town Hall, Birmingham

• Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Overture, ‘Bastien und Bastienne’, K50/46b
• Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Sinfonia Concertante for Four Winds in E-flat major, K297b
• Joanna Lee – Blue Blaze – Dance Suite [world premiere]
• Joseph Haydn – Symphony no59 ‘Feuer’ in A major, Hob.I:59

I wonder how many potential tunes there are in the world – already written; or, as Elgar supposed, “in the air… all around us”? Given a set number of notes, there are obviously only, statistically, a finite number of sequences that can be developed. So, isn’t it truly amazing that, when performed – even if ‘recycled’ by other composers: either coincidentally, or in tribute – such melodies are not only recognizable (they strike a chord, if you will), but they also have the power to immediately lead you back to a single source?

For example: catching the opening theme of this concert, played out of context, many people in the audience would, I am sure, instantly call to mind Beethoven’s Eroica – although then wonder who had run off with those two monumental introductory thunderbolts (and why it was played in the wrong key and by the wrong instruments). Or maybe Wagner’s Das Rheingold…? (Although, there, as you might expect, its appearance is more lushly orchestrated.) This ‘fanfare’ – based on a major triad: thus readily playable on a natural (valveless) horn – also appears at the beginning of Brahms’ Second Symphony; and, according to George Grove (he of the musical dictionary), in his violin concerto, too – not to mention the Scherzo of Schubert’s ‘Great’ C major symphony; as well as Beethoven’s very own Hammerklavier sonata.

But hear it: and I’m pretty sure that it will be the latter’s Third Symphony that comes to mind; even though he was born two years after the overture – to singspiel, or comic opera, Bastien und Bastienne – was composed… by twelve-year-old Mozart: which is why all thoughts of Beethoven will quickly fade away. Even at this age, ‘Amadeus’ was displaying signature greatness.

By the way, the opera probably wasn’t performed publicly for another twenty-two years. But it is unlikely that Beethoven was present; or, if he was, that he would intentionally borrow something so pleasantly pastoral to signify ‘the heroic’.

Conceivably, the most amazing upshot, I think, is that this short tune serves both – indeed all – of its purposes extremely well. Because in none of the instances listed does it sound anything other than each composer’s own: perfectly pitched, perfectly scored. Maybe because, to paraphrase two other truly great musicians: “T’ain’t What You Write (It’s the Way That You Write It)”.