If you were part of the large audience in Plymouth Guildhall – or indeed in Liskeard’s Public Hall a few days earlier – you might well have found the opening item in Plymouth Symphony Orchestra’s autumn programme somewhat familiar, after the first two minutes or so. If, indeed, that was the case, then either you’re a particular aficionado of the Finnish composer’s music – or you were around from 1956 – 1968, when the theme was used to introduce This Week – a weekly current affairs and politics series on ITV.
Effective
As overtures go, Sibelius’s Karelia is a pretty effective concert-opener, and straightaway showed the orchestra to be on good form yet again. As we’ve come to expect from PSO, the full-bodied string section yet again provided a highly effective background to the overall impressive sound, violins, violas and cellos in particular. This was also a programme where brass would be a major contributor, both as an ensemble, and in providing a number of telling solo solos, and, once again, they proved themselves more than up for the task in hand. It always takes a few seconds to adjust to the Guildhall’s rather unsympathetic acoustics, with an audience in winter attire is present, but the overall ensemble and balance quickly settled into a most well-paced and effective concert opener.
Essentially, this was always going to be a popular programme, with no surprises or challenges for the listener, yet with sufficient material for the more-seasoned players still to get their teeth into. Perhaps, given than the Queen had only recently passed away, and her obviously high-profile funeral was still fresh in people’s memories, Wagner’s Death and Funeral Music from Götterdämmerung, might not have seemed an ideal inclusion in retrospect, while accepting that programmes have to be planned well in advance. Even for a top-notch professional outfit, the composer’s writing can be really challenging, not so much in the bold brass climaxes which almost have a tendency to play themselves, but in the quieter moments too, where, the composer manages to squeeze in so many notes, which in one sense seem unimportant, but which are actually essential to the writing, and need the most articulate treatment possible.
A well-deserved renaissance
Next up was the concerto, where the trusty old Guildhall Steinway Grand, now enjoying a well-deserved renaissance – even if there are still a few outstanding issues that need addressing – provided an excellent vehicle for Grieg’s much-loved Piano Concerto.
Again, like the evening’s opening work, Grieg’s concerto, with its somewhat infamous cascading-piano-octave start, often leads the more senior members of the audience to recall the famous Morecombe and Wise sketch, where the two comedians were joined by the late German-American pianist, composer and conductor André ‘Preview’ Previn, supposedly for a performance of the work on a BBC TV Christmas Day Special back in 1971. Musically-speaking, of course, the actual rendition was a disaster, but the moment when Eric Morecombe grabbed the maestro by his lapels, after Previn had politely pointed out that Morecombe was ‘playing all the wrong notes’, and barked back, ‘I’m playing all the right notes, but not necessarily in the right order’, has gone down in the annals of British comedy history, and is still what a lot of people tend to recall first, about Grieg’s beautifully-fashioned musical gem, however hackneyed it might have become since its completion in the summer of 1868.
Something unique
However, works like the Grieg, Beethoven’s Fifth, or Dvořák’s New World Symphony, for example, do beget one particular problem for players – how to bring something unique to the performance, something akin to a face-lift, without physically messing with any aspect of the composer’s original conception – something that is in fact, harder to achieve than might be imagined.
Enter the tall frame of prize-winning young Bulgarian virtuoso Emanuil Ivanov, currently studying on a full scholarship here in the UK. With the aid of a little bit of insider-knowledge, I had already heard from some senior orchestra members that the initial meeting and first rehearsal with the pianist, in the venue the night before, had gone really well, and that, in such a short space of time, Emanuil had won many admirers among the players, not just for his fabulous technique and musicianship, but also by his quietly-unassuming, yet eminently genial personality – a fact that became immediately apparent as soon as he joined the orchestra on stage on the night. Rather than merely being the professional soloist who tends to spend as little time with a local orchestra, topping and tailing the subsequent performance in order to achieve as perfect an ensemble as possible, it really felt like he had come on stage to join his newly-found friends, to play an old chestnut of a work that clearly they all still loved.
The timpani roll started, and Ivanov demonstrated from the very outset that he had more than enough physical power to compete with a full-sized symphony orchestra, when going at full pelt. All the intricate and delicate passage-work had the hallmark of a well-practised technique, so neatly articulated, and despatched with real élan. The famous cadenza focused all of Ivanov’s many pianistic strengths under the one canvas, a real tour of force in terms of virtuosity, and the ability to build up to overwhelming climaxes.
Abundant freshness
There was certainly abundant freshness in Emanuil’s playing in the first movement, which kept the orchestra nicely alert with some lovely little subtleties and nuances from the soloist, which helped personalise the performance to a considerable degree, and to which the players responded as one.
The glorious slow movement is the emotional heart of the whole concerto, though occasionally some players do seem to regard it more as a brief respite before the ‘action’ kicks off again, with the appearance of the finale’s Norwegian Halling-type folk-dance finale. But this was certainly not the case in Emanuil Ivanov’s lyrical performance of the Adagio. He savoured and caressed every single note, whether just part of a wonderfully-legato line, or even the slow and dreamy arpeggiation of a single chord. This in itself also had a profound effect of the orchestra, who needed to listen just as attentively as the pianist, which all then combined to create some lush textures at both ends of the dynamic spectrum. In Ivanov’s hands, Anne Kimber’s ultra-sympathetic conducting, and an orchestra that really listens, this was one of the most memorable parts of the whole evening.
The third movement then ran its course with some lovely playing from the strings, individual woodwind, and brass, as Anne Kimber so effectively reined in her resources just until the work’s triumphant climax and coda where the major tonality blazes forth – something, I find, that still never fails to impress and can cause the hairs on the back of the neck to stand up.
Musical ‘political correctness’ right out of the window
Of course, it’s not unusual for any guest soloist to receive a hearty round of applause from the orchestral players themselves at the end of the concerto, but in Ivanov’s case, this had to be seen to be believed. Even at the end of the first movement where, traditionally, clapping is normally refrained from – thereby respecting the fact that the individual movements are just part of a much larger picture – not only were the orchestra players stamping their feet in appreciation, but a good number of the audience were already on their own feet, by way of a premature standing ovation – and when this just happens quite spontaneously, then all ideas of musical ‘political correctness’ rightly fly right out of the window. When Emanuil Ivanov first arrived in Plymouth, he probably had little idea of what to expect. But by the time he’d reached the concert’s half-way point, his friend-count would surely have risen a thousand-fold, to say the least. The only one downside was that Cornish concert-goers, who attended the event a few days earlier in Liskeard, were unfortunately offered only a selection of Dvořák Slavonic Dances instead, given the venue’s lack of an appropriate instrument for the concerto.
After the fabulous high that Ivanov’s superb performance had caused in the auditorium, it was especially fortuitous that next on the agenda came the interval, and where, on this particular occasion, the bar seemed able to accommodate audience-members seeking liquid refreshment without too much of a delay.
My personal preference for any second half, and even more so after such a superb ending to the first, would be a nice, four-movement Romantic symphony – or, of course, another piano concerto, were Emanuil currently doing a special Black-Wednesday ‘two concertos for the price of one’ promotion.
In the event PSO went for a large-scale single work, albeit in some fifteen or so separate short movements – Mussorgsky’s epic Pictures at an Exhibition. Now, rather than appear be a further party-pooper, as a pianist, I have to say that, for me, Mussorgsky’s monumental creation seems so much more effective in its original version for piano solo, than in Ravel’s subsequent orchestral version. Ravel was a master orchestrator, so no one could probably make a more perfect orchestral transcription, especially considering that Ravel himself was also a virtuoso pianist, as well as composer in his own right. Ravel’s is, without doubt, a masterpiece of orchestration, and his demands are virtually unrelenting for the players, making use of some wonderful effects, quasi-virtuoso treatment of the extended percussion section, use of more exotic orchestral instruments, and solos for players who, in the everyday run of symphonic works, rarely achieve such an exalted position in the score.
But unfortunately all this does come at a price and, unlike many works which can enhance all but the very weakest of ensembles, Ravel’s challenge really requires virtuosity from every separate section and member, achievable with a top-class professional outfit, but not quite so an amateur orchestra, even as good as PSO surely is. Rather as with Wagner, the big moments always come off well, but some of the really intricate passage work in, say, Tuileries, or Limoges, can tend to get a bit frantic, and perhaps The Ox Cart might have done with a squirt, or two, of WD40.
However, a successful performance overall depends far more on the sum of the parts, than any individual indiscretions, and when it really mattered on the home straight, The Hut on Fowl’s Legs and Great Gate of Kiev, which is still the correct transliteration of the original Russian name, Киев. In fact, though the final piece is now enjoying something of a renaissance as a musical riposte to the invasion of Ukraine, it still remains Russian to the core, which was probably the reason why, just as the players struck up Mussorgsky’s imposing chorale-like melody, the Guildhall lights didn’t play their part by bathing the auditorium in a colourful mix of blue and yellow. But this is possibly why the tired, old building is due a much-needed refurbishment in the New Year.
More positives at every concert
But it’s always so much more satisfying to praise all the many positives per se, and then just flag up a few minor issues along the way. And indeed there are more and more positives at every subsequent concert, where virtually every section shows a noticeable improvement each time. PSO is so very fortunate in having such a large number of highly-talented players in its ranks, and, as far as the violins go, in particular, the policy of integrating the really assured players among the orchestra ranks – as well as having a ‘pool’ of three leaders – ensures that there is always real strength from the first desk back to the last.
Individuality
Each of the three designated leaders also brings their own individuality and playing-style to the role, which further keeps the rank-and-file players on their toes, and far fresher in performance. On this occasion, the orchestra was led by violinist and violist Dawn Ashby, who brings with her, years of experience, great confidence, and a vital ability to inspire all those around her with her warm, yet impeccably professional leadership on the night.
Of course, none of this could ever happen so successfully without someone at the front, who not only knows the score intimately, but can communicate her intentions so clearly and with the absolute minimum of unnecessary affectation, with the result that, not only do her eighty or so instrumentalists are virtually as one, but it’s also so rewarding for the onlooker to see how players are also really enjoying what they’re doing, and communicating this to their colleagues, surely the epitome of what an ‘Amateur’ orchestra is all about – striving for the very highest standards, but always playing for the sheer love of it.
And even if there was the odd slip here and there, I still side 100% with Beethoven, when he apparently said: ‘To play a wrong note is insignificant; to play without passion is inexcusable!’
But if, for whatever reason, you missed either concert this time, then do add Wednesday March 22, 2023 to your diary, when PSO returns to the Guildhall for another exciting programme once more featuring a work for piano and orchestra – on this occasion, however, Rachmaninov’s familiar Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, with Israeli pianist Ariel Lanyi, alongside Dvořák’s ebullient Carnival Overture, and Mahler’s Symphony No 1 ‘Titan’.
The promised Guildhall refurbishment is scheduled to begin after this date, so June’s concert will take place in the nearby Minster Church of St Andrew, but, should this concert also include a concerto, it won’t, unfortunately, feature a pianist on this occasion.
Philip R Buttall
top image: The Upper-Strings ‘Powerhouse’.
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