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REVIEW: Steve Crowther’s verdict  on Maxwell String Quartet, BMS York Concerts

Maxwell String Quartet: George Smith, violin, Colin Scobie, violin, Elliott Perks, viola, and Duncan Strachan, cello

Maxwell String Quartet, BMS York Concerts, Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall, University of York, March 8

WELL, the performance of Haydn’s iconic Quartet in E-flat major (Op.20 No.1) was breathtaking in its flawless technique, balance and engagement.

The opening lengthy Allegro seemed almost effortless in both the technical demands and instrumental interplay. The music is so intelligent, radically so, and the Maxwell String Quartet’s playing reflected and thrived on this.

The minuet (placed second), with its enigmatic trio, was thoroughly enjoyable. I loved the viola’s role in joining the party late and harmonically directing the listener back to the minuet via the back door of F minor. The Presto finale was bristling with vitality, rhythmic syncopations and rolling modulations. A great signing off.

But it was the Affettuoso e sostenuto which lingered. This is a quite extraordinary movement of real emotional depth and the performance delivered.

Quite extraordinary too, were the Quartet’s wonderful transcriptions or ‘impressionistic and sensitive reworkings’ of traditional Scottish Folk Worksongs. These were drawn from and inspired by explorations of traditional music drawn from “Scotland’s hardworking societies”: fishing, tweed and wool making and so forth.

The Quartet played these with as much care to detail – nuanced phrasing and insight – as they had brought to the Haydn. I liked the democratic reversal of violin leads too.

These were prefaced by a Scottish tune underpinned by a bagpipe cello drone aimed at irritating the ghost of Mendelssohn. The great man evidently disliked the traditional instrument. A nice touch.

Mendelssohn’s magnificent Quartet No.6 in F minor (Op.80) was written in response to the death of his beloved sister Fanny in May 1847. The choice of key here, F minor, deliberately reinforces the emotional tension since there will be greater tension on the strings.

This was helpfully explained by cellist Duncan Strachan, whose engaging, informative vocal commentary throughput the concert added a welcome layer of inclusivity and engagement.

The raw emotion was evident from the start of the Allegro vivace assai. The musical narrative was convincingly propelled forwards (echoes of late Beethoven Op.95) and right on the edge, leaving this listener feeling unsettled yet gripped.

The Allegro assai exploded in the same dramatically driven, angst-ridden direction. Not sure why, but I heard pre-echoes of Tippett, maybe the String Quartet No.2. Anyway, the stabbing, brutal syncopations here reinforced the mood of anger and despair; the dramatic shock being even greater as this is not what we expect in a civilised, traditional scherzo. Whilst in the contrasting trio section, the violins play a haunting, ethereal melody over cello and viola octaves.

Mercifully there was some respite in the form of the poignant Adagio. Here the playing captured the mood of tenderness, sadness and loss. But it is the calm before the musical storm and the closing Finale once again ripped forwards. The movement culminates in the first violin ratcheting up the already palpable tension to a thrilling, if decidedly defeated, conclusion. Quite something.

And that should have been that. Just spontaneous appreciation in the form of loud applause. But no, the Maxwell Quartet gave us an encore, two in fact. Back to Scottish folksong. Both beautifully played and very well received. It’s just that they unnecessarily diminished my experience of their remarkable performance of the Mendelssohn.

Review by Steve Crowther

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REVIEW: Martin Dreyer’s verdict on Will Clark and Hilary Suckling, BMS York, Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall, University of York

Will Clark: Former leader of National Youth Orchestra, now studying at Royal Academy of Music

BOTH players of international reputation, this violin and piano duo can truly be claimed as York’s own.

Although based in London, Will Clark grew up and nurtured his talents here. Hilary Suckling has made York her home, so their local connexions are impeccable. Sonatas by Mozart and Brahms framed shorter works by Ysaӱe and Britten and offered satisfying variety.

Will’s appearance is deceptive. Sporting a pseudo-drag persona, with dramatically painted eyebrows above decorated waistcoat and tight black trousers, all evocative of the bull ring, he can be distracting.

It takes the average punter a few minutes to be able to concentrate on his actual playing. But it is worth the effort. Beneath the veneer lurks a thoughtful and highly proficient violinist. Sometimes he is even better than that.

The duo’s Mozart, K.454 in B flat, was unremarkable, but it offered a solidly constructed warm-up for what was to come. Clark used minimal vibrato, but it did not detract from the Andante’s cantabile line.

The closing rondo was light on its toes, occasionally even witty, as Suckling intelligently adjusted her tone after a first movement where balance had been an intermittent problem.

It was good to hear Eugène Ysaӱe’s Poème élégiaque, Op 12 in its original version, rather than the better-known adaptation for orchestra. Although very much a display piece, it remains at heart a lament, apparently in reaction to Romeo and Juliet, and the duo wisely concentrated on this. So the dramatic centrepiece became a display of anger at bereavement and the closing violin recitative conveyed a touching solemnity.

Although the Britten was described as three pieces from the Suite, Op 6, the composer ultimately distilled it down to just these three, which were the only ones first unveiled in the Wigmore Hall in 1934 (albeit revised the following year).

The opening ‘March’ was jaunty with the succeeding ‘Lullaby’ an extreme contrast, very slow and sad; Clark’s high line was impeccable. The final ‘Waltz’ was exactly right: virtuosically explosive.

Brahms’s third and last Violin Sonata, Op 108 in D minor, opens with a remarkable rhapsodic Allegro. Suckling’s piano here was admirably subdued, especially given the weightiness of the composer’s writing, before the duo became excitingly fiery. There was some lovely rubato in the slow movement.

A feel of Mendelssohnian politeness infused the scherzo, but that evaporated in the thrilling final Presto. Even here Clark allowed his violin to do the talking, rather than indulge in the sort of histrionics his appearance might have suggested.

Clark returns to this hall on March 30 as soloist in the Sibelius Violin Concerto with York Symphony Orchestra: on this showing, strongly recommended.

Review by Martin Dreyer, 16/2/2024

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REVIEW: Steve Crowther’s verdict on Lumas Winds, BMS York Concerts, 5/1/24

Lumas Winds: First BMS York concert of 2024

BMS York presents Lumas Winds, Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall, University of York, January 5

LUMAS Winds opened their programme with a confident performance of Mozart’s Magic Flute Overture. There are no hiding places in this music; technique is very much on the line and the crisply articulated playing throughout was both brave as well as admirable. Enjoyable too.

David Matthews’ Three Woodwind Studies, a set of personal, intimate portraits, was a delight. A Song For Emma (solo flute), with its charming melodic ebb and flow, was beautifully judged by Beth Stone.

Chris Vettraino’s performance of A Birthday Song (oboe) was both haunting and hypnotic. A Study For Sam (solo clarinet) was a first performance and proved to be a quirky, fun-filled gem.

Mozart’s Divertimento in F is an early work written in 1775. To be sure, it is more of a window into what was to come, but impressive nonetheless. The writing was full of confidence with each instrument given a share of the spoils. The playing was wonderful, the balance impeccable.

Sally Beamish’s The Naming Of Birds proved to be an evocative set of character pieces; very imaginative and quite unlike anything I have heard before. Each of these five demanding movements had five soloists evoking the call of each bird – partridge (horn), lapwing (oboe) and so forth.

I did find the actual live recorded introductions a tad contrived and frankly unnecessary, but it was a very engaging work and very well performed. However, not for the first time when listening to Ms Beamish’s music, the work left me impressed rather than moved.

Actually, I felt the same about Malcom Arnold’s Three Shanties. Impressive performances, impressive writing but …well, it put a smile on my face. Sally Beamish’s arrangement of Mozart’s Adagio for Glass Harmonica was an entirely musical affair. The sound was so seductive with the cor anglais replacing the oboe “to give a warm, dark quality to the quintet”. Which it did. How inspired.

Unlike Anton Reicha’s Two Andantes and an Adagio. The music was pretty forgettable, in fact I’ve forgotten it already, but the performance certainly wasn’t. Delightful.

Lumas Winds ended this splendid concert with the best work in the programme – apart from the Mozart, obviously – in Elizabeth Maconchy’s terrific Wind Quintet. It was so well written by a composer so clearly still at the top of their game. She was in her mid-seventies.

An opening Allegro of quirky urgency and unsettling metrical changes; the poco Lento more expressive, weaving contrapuntal lines underpinned by a dotted rhythm throughout; the third movement, Vivo, with a bit of a musical spat between clarinet and bassoon; the Andante opening with a short clarinet and horn duo, inviting in the other instruments to the party and the closing Rondo with each soloist having their say and the cute snap ending.

The players were at one with the technical and musical demands. The performance was illuminating.

Review by Steve Crowther

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REVIEW: Steve Crowther’s verdict on Hannah Condliffe (oboe) and Dominic Doutney (piano), BMS York Concerts

Hannah Condliffe: Oboe soloist for BMS York concert

British Music Society York: Hannah Condliffe and Dominic Doutney, Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall, University of York, March 17

HANNAH Condliffe opened this delightful concert with the second of Telemann’s Twelve Fantasias in A Minor.

In terms of productivity, Telemann is hard to beat. But these fantasias for solo flute not only enriched that repertoire in the early part of the 18th century; they were also highly regarded and very influential.

Ms Condliffe’s performance of the oboe transcription demonstrated why. The lyricism and gentle perpetual motion were ever present, and the performance was quite mercurial in this embracing acoustic.

In a change to the original programme, Dominic Doutney performed two of the Rachmaninov Preludes (Op. 32). The first Prelude was memorable for a simple, delicate, floating melody awash with colour underpinned with a whispery mid-range accompaniment. The pianist’s touch was crisp and finely judged. Just as it was in the G# minor Prelude where the ebb and flow, the weaving of textures made it a joy to listen to.

The two Études – Pour les Notes Repetées and Pour les Arpèges Composés reinforced what a very fine pianist Mr Doutney is. Technically the playing was superb, but it was the innate sense of musical architecture in the first Étude and the tender, intimate playing in the latter which impressed.

There was also a shadow of the blues. Maybe this reflected his serious illness, or the fact that it was written in 1915 during the First World War, or then again it could just be me picking up the vibes as there is little doubting the positive energy and indeed the music’s playfulness.

This takes us seamlessly on to the Two Insect Pieces by Benjamin Britten. The Grasshopper dutifully hopped about while The Wasp buzzed around with a menacing sting in its tail. The playing captured the charming imagery.

Samuel Coleridge-Taylor’s Deep River (arr. Maud Powell) was as moving as anything in the programme. The music just resonates in the soul – well, it did for me in this utterly immersive performance.

Like the opening Telemann, Britten’s three pieces from Six Metamorphoses after Ovid gave oboist Hannah Condliffe the chance to showcase her remarkable technique and musicianship. Pan’s free spirit is reinforced by the composer’s unmeasured notation and the frequent pauses. The performance captured this spellbinding, hypnotic quality.

By contrast, the musical depiction of the chariot ride of Phaeton in the second metamorphosis – fast and rhythmic – was exhilarating. Arethusa, fleeing the advances of the river god Alpheus and being transformed into a fountain, had both beauty and flow. Impressive.

The two players reunited to perform Poulenc’s homage to Prokofiev, the Oboe Sonata. The opening Elégie is technically demanding, but it was the charming engagement of the duo which was so affecting.

The music of the Scherzo may be described as witty, but it was the bristling vitality with its toccata-like drive to the close which was so thrilling. The final Déploration provided a touching, sober farewell to the great man.

The concert closed with Jeffrey Agrell’s Blues For D.D. The piece itself did not have much to recommend it – very clever, for sure, but cliched and derivative – but the performance did. It was fresh, zingy and utterly confident. Condliffe and Doutney clearly enjoyed performing the piece and the audience, apart from myself evidently, clearly enjoyed it too. So, amen to that.

Review by Steve Crowther

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REVIEW: Steve Crowther’s verdict on Elizabeth Brauss, BMS York, Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall, University of York, February 17

Pianist Elizabeth Brauss

I AM going to frame this review of German pianist Elizabeth Brauss’s excellent recital with a couple of whinges. Firstly, there should be an usher seated at the exit doors during the recital. No matter how quietly someone intends to leave during a performance, the doors close with a disruptive kick. This could be easily mitigated and yes, it matters.

Now to the review: Throughout the concert, I was struck by how thoughtful, how sophisticated Ms Brauss’s playing sounded. This was self-evident from the opening Concerto in D minor by Bach (after Marcello).

The Allegro and Presto movements bristled with crisp, razor-sharp articulation while the central Adagio was achingly poignant, played with such lyrical tenderness. Quite remarkable.

As was Mendelssohn’s Variations Sérieuses. I confess that I have never heard the piece before, but goodness me what a wonderfully cultured, superbly knitted theme and variations it is. A few observations: stand-out points included the driven question-and-answer chat – left-hand octaves, right-hand chords of the third variation and the crispest of crisp staccato canon in variation four.

The sixth variation seemed to leap with neurotic joy, the seventh incredibly fast and thrilling. The musical bleed into the fugal variation ten was so wonderfully judged and the ensuing contrapuntal dialogue so clear and distinct.

Ms Brauss’s final variation or coda made the musical hairs on the back of your head stand to attention. They were still there throughout the performance of Hindemith’s mesmerizing, gently radical In Einer Nacht. What a marriage of intellect and emotion this turned out to be. Indeed, the character pieces, so wonderfully threaded together, had echoes of the second-half Schumann.

Once again, we were treated to a performance of serious insight and engagement. The work dazzles with diverse influences from opera, jazz and Debussy, closing off with a terrific bow in appreciation of J S Bach.

Ms Brauss delivered a full calendar of emotion, from simple playfulness to the gently twisted or grotesque. Her interpretation was infused with genuine empathy, as eloquently expressed in her introduction to the work.

After the interval, we were treated to a Schumann masterpiece, Carnaval. As is well documented, this collection of miniatures recreates a musical masked ball with guests including the composer’s friends, characters from the commedia dell’arte and Schumann himself.

The playing was so in tune with both the technical and creative demands, the characterisation so

vivid, that it left nothing to be desired or needed. Like the recital itself, every gesture here seemed infused with meaning, the whole work bristling with vitality.

Which brings me to close with my second critical point: why the encore? To be sure, it was Schumann (Von fremden Ländern und Menchen); to be sure, the performance was utterly poignant, but it just wasn’t necessary.

Following the conclusion of Elizabeth Brauss’s wonderful Schumann Carnaval, all that was needed was the rapturous applause it clearly deserved and then to set off, in the words of Paul Simon, homeward bound.

Review by Steve Crowther