Cellist Jamie Walton: “Rarely can a cello have sounded so august and avuncular at the same time.” Picture: Matthew Johnson
TWO orchestras were on display in this afternoon concert. One got lost somewhere in the forests and swamplands of Karelia, North Eastern Finland. The other one took inspiration from Shakespeare as imagined by Tchaikovsky and finally peaked with Shostakovich.
All orchestras have off-days and it is to the credit of Simon Wright and his charges that they snapped out of their early doldrums as well as they did. They opened with Sibelius’s Karelia suite and Bloch’s mini cello concerto Schelomo (Solomon), with Tchaikovsky’s fantasy overture Romeo And Juliet and Shostakovich’s Ninth Symphony after the interval.
The Sibelius certainly reflected the rugged, ragged tundra but not perhaps in the way the composer might have preferred. Entries were indecisive and the good form that the horns have been enjoying in recent times deserted them.
There was compensation in the central Ballade with a smooth cor anglais solo from Fleur Hughes and rhythms were crisper in the closing march. But the work as a whole sounded tentative.
With the advent of the Bloch, Jamie Walton’s cello immediately injected new life. His passion was not overlaid but came from deep within, emerging especially richly from his lowest string. Rarely can a cello have sounded so august and avuncular at the same time.
Solomon’s sometimes desperate rhapsodising, as Bloch interpreted his words from Ecclesiastes, was lent added depth by solos from bassoon and two trumpets. But it was Walton who penetrated to the heart of Solomon’s personality, alternating moments of rumination with explosions of anger.
There must have been something special in the interval drinks. It was a different orchestra that turned out for Romeo And Juliet. The woodwind choir set an elegiac tone in the Friar Laurence section, but when the strings delivered a brilliant streak in the middle of the vendetta music there was no looking back.
The love theme emerged sensitively from the muted violas. When the returning orchestral fury had finally died away, Romeo’s lamentation brought the fantasy to a tender close.
Shostakovich’s Ninth Symphony calls for a classical orchestra, with the addition of a piccolo. That instrument, in the deft hands of Felicity Jones, paired with trombone conjured a tingling buffoonery in the opening Allegro. There was a striking clarity, too, in the lyrical romanza that followed. When we reached the careering Scherzo, the orchestra was patently enjoying itself at last.
There remained Isabel Dowell’s plaintively touching bassoon, set off by the low brass quartet, before a return to drollery in the martial extravaganza of the finale. Wright was now confident enough in his players to goad them into a coda of brilliant acceleration.
Review by Martin Dreyer