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REVIEW: Steve Crowther’s verdict on University of York Symphony Orchestra, Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall, University of York, 23/11/2024

University of York Symphony Orchestra

THIS excellent York Concerts series continued with a really attractive programme of Mendelssohn, Busoni and Richard Strauss.

It opened with Mel Bonis’s Le Songe de Cléopâtre, op. 180. To be honest, the only thing I knew about the composer was that her actual name was Mélanie, publishing her works under the gender-neutral name  of Mel Bonis in an attempt to avoid the inevitable prejudice against women composers.

But the performance of this wonderful crafted miniature clearly revealed a composer of real stature and individuality. As the title implies, the work is inspired by the influential Egyptian queen, Cleopatra. And there did seem to be a programmatic element, a response to the strong, seductive qualities associated with this historic femme fatale.

 I could clearly hear the impressionistic influence of Debussy, although the rich orchestral swells suggested the music of Wagner. Maybe. The string tuning was not always on the money (the auditorium was pretty warm), but lovely flute and clarinet playing stood out and the overall performance convinced.

Taking centre stage for Mendelssohn’s Piano Concerto no. 1 in G minor, op. 25 was third-year university music student Alexa MacLaren. Not surprisingly, there were some early signs of nerves but the introduction was nevertheless simply exhilarating.

I loved the overall charm of the playing, the sparkling passagework dispensing with the unnecessary dramatic showmanship. Attention to detail was ever present. The playful nature of the Presto finale was instinctively captured by Ms MacLaren, as in the rhythmically crisp articulation – far from easy at this very lively tempo and sparkling scale passages.

But it was the lyrical passages, the singing melodies, particularly in the tonally radiant E major Andante, which stayed with me. The phrasing, expression and avoidance of sentimentality worked beautifully. The rapturous response from the capacity audience was genuinely touching.

Ferruccio Busoni is a towering figure in ‘modern’ music. His music breathes the contrapuntal sound world of J S Bach – the great Fantasia Contrappuntistica on an unfinished fugue by Bach is a remarkable homage to the great man, just as much as it breathes the “air from another planet”.

Busoni was a friend of Arnold Schoenberg. He also had a close relationship, both personally and professionally, with Gustav Mahler. And it was Mahler and the New York Philharmonic who gave the first performance of Busoni’s short Berceuse élégiaque for orchestra, op.42 in 1911.

The Berceuse is an atmospheric, contemplative work and John Stringer’s insightful reading allowed it the space to gradually unfold. I was struck by the subtlety of the instrumental timbres and gently jarring (major and minor) tonalities and harmonic patterns.

 The performance created a dream-like world, drifting through a quite unique musical landscape. The dark, elegiac intimacy surely was a response to the death of his mother. Indeed, the score itself is headed by the enigmatic words “A man’s cradle-song at his mother’s bier”. A bier is the stand on which a corpse or coffin is placed (I had to look this one up).

A slight whinge before turning to the Strauss: the slightly surreal amplified call to refrain from taking photos is a good thing, but then having a photographer taking shots from the rear of the auditorium with a camera the size of a mini Hubble telescope ain’t – it’s distracting.

So, from one master of atmospheric orchestration and colour to another, Richard Strauss’s tone poem Tod und Verklärung (Death and Transfiguration). The musical narrative depicts the death of an artist.

As the man lies on his death bed, thoughts of his life pass through his head: his childhood innocence, the struggles of his manhood, the attainment of his earthly goals and finally the mother of all transfigurations “from the infinite reaches of heaven”. A bit like Elgar’s Dream Of Gerontius composed 11 years later – both 19th-century Europeans and Victorians were obsessed with death and mysticism.

The work opens with quiet pulsing strings and timpani suggesting life, the living, but its irregularity of beat suggests a slowly failing heartbeat and the imminence of death. John Stringer’s orchestral instincts were well served here, generating a quiet, unsettling musical moment of unwanted familiarity. There were telling flute, oboe and string contributions.

The second movement was absorbing, with the heartbeat theme threading the musical narrative together, culminating in a brilliant full orchestral manifestation with the brass (trumpets and trombones) articulating a new idea. The ending was quiet and bleak.

I found the third movement really engaging as the dying man’s life is played out: aims, aspirations and failure to achieve them. The performance became appropriately agitated, tormented and explosive.

The moment of death and transfiguration was effectively evoked; a climax of dramatic glissando strings followed to an eerie, unearthly quiet gong calls and a low sustained C in the bowels of the orchestra itself.

The transfiguration begins with the whole orchestra pianissimo, fine horn and (celestial, what else?) harp playing leading to the “true and ultimate heavenly paradise”.

Another really fine outing for the University Symphony Orchestra, admirably directed once again by John Stringer. On a personal note, I hope to see the day when Mr Stringer decides to include some of his own impressive compositions into these programmes.

But the final word belongs with final-year student Alexa MacLaren; an exceptional young pianist at the start of a clearly promising career. We wish her well.

Review by Steve Crowther

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University of York Choir and Symphony Orchestra to perform Mozart and Bruckner works at York Minster on June 8

The poster for University of York Choir and Symphony Orchestra’s concert on June 8

THE University of York Choir, The 24, and the University of York Symphony Orchestra will perform at York Minster on Saturday, June 8.

Under the direction of Robert Hollingworth and John Stringer, the 7.30pm programme will feature Mozart’s Mass in C minor and a selection of Bruckner’s works, celebrating the 200th anniversary of his birth, including the Te Deum, a composition he described as “the pride of his life”. Box office: 01904 322439 or yorkconcerts.ticketsolve.com.

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REVIEW: Steve Crowther’s verdict on University of York Symphony Orchestra, Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall, November 25

John Stringer conducting the University of York Symphony Orchestra on November 25

THE first thing to say about this ambitious concert was that it was played to a packed auditorium. In these difficult times this is no small achievement and great credit to the University Symphony Orchestra and conductor John Stringer, who have deservedly generated such a trusted following.

I have never heard Kaija Saariaho’s Lumière et Pesanteur in a live performance. To be honest I found listening to the work slightly unsettling. It was like swimming submerged in a spooky, murky musical lagoon.

The very effective soundscape was made from light, translucent chords. A delicate motif moved from trumpet to flute. There emerged loud tutti, trumpet and brass but these outbursts were always sucked back into the murky depths. As I said, unsettling.

Not all the exposed playing was always on the money, a little pitch unsure, perhaps lacking a little match practice. But there was no doubting the originality of the score and the performance caught the atmospheric sound world to good effect.

And so, from one Finnish great to an even greater one, Jean Sibelius. En Saga is also a powerful, descriptive tone poem. The work opens with a mysterious, distinctive mood or sheen created by glistening string playing. Again, the solo and exposed instrumental groupings seemed to lack authority and confidence.

This changed with the dramatic increase in tempo and the playing was more self-assured and enjoyable. The work is now brimming with instrumental folk-inspired dances, heroic calls on the horn. The climax of the four horns playing their notes chiuso (muted by hand), produced a particularly metallic, brassy effect.

Following some strong viola solo playing (Anna Thompson), conductor John Stringer drove the players on to a sustained orchestral climax dominated by brass fanfares. Very effective. This couldn’t last and a splendid Pip Tall on clarinet guided us toward a poignant, tranquil close.

If some of the playing in the first half seemed, I suspect, a little under rehearsed, this was certainly not the case in the second half with a terrific performance of Shostakovich’s symphonic last will and musical testament, the exceptional Symphony No. 15.

Whereas his symphonies are usually driven by external events and politics, here the drama is very much internalised. To be sure, there is fun to be had, not least in the William Tell quotations. Or is there?

The symphony, the mightiest of abstract musical forms, opens with a solo glockenspiel. It is certainly a surprise and, in this context, a dramatic one. This is followed by a seemingly carefree chirpy flute solo and then a slightly odd bassoon melody, some strange, slightly displaced string passages, familiar rhythmic echoes in the brass and then an even stranger hello from the trumpets quoting from Rossini’s William Tell overture.

The playing convincingly recreated a kind of black musical playground, or possibly fairground, where the appearance of Petrushka’s ghost wouldn’t have been that far-fetched. But if this quirky, surreal quality suggesting frivolity is a musical joke, the punchline is manifest in the darkest recesses of the following slow movement.

The University Symphony Orchestra delivered a persuasive, bleak account. It opens with a noble brass chorale ushering in a truly heartfelt cello solo; a pair of solo flutes (nicely played by Persephone Alloway and Immy McPhun) introduce the historical dotted funeral motif, with a solo trombone taking us to loud fortissimo climax.

Fine bassoon playing leads to the start of the Allegretto third movement. I think that this is meant to be played without a break, but anyhow, mercifully there was one, and I needed it. Having said that, this scherzando offers little respite as the chilling woodblock motif introduces a solo double bass theme accompanied by confident celesta playing by Joel Edmondson.

A macabre clarinet solo takes to a unsettling violin solo arriving at the movement’s closing Desolation Row. The final Adagio is brimming with quotations: the fate motif from Wagner’s Der Ring des Nieberlung and Tristan und Isolde. There are echoes of Glinka’s Do Not Tempt Me Needlessly. It is left to the celesta to take us to the final curtain restating the symphony’s opening motif.

To quote music journalist Tom Service: “The final sounds of Shostakovich’s symphonic canon are impassive, intimate, and empty. They’re among the most spine-tingling and chilling sounds in orchestral music.”

John Stringer and the University Symphony Orchestra delivered an emotional rollercoaster of the bleakest of musical journeys. They, and especially their fine soloists – Persephone Alloway (flute), Isaac McAreavey (bassoon), Mari McGregor (cello), Sam Banks (trombone), George Roberts (double bass) and Vlad Turapov (violin) – should be very proud.

Review by Steve Crowther

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REVIEW: Steve Crowther’s verdict on The Chimera Ensemble, Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall, University of York, November 17

The Chimera Ensemble performing at the Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall. Picture: Steve Crowther

GYOGY Kurtág’s Játékok piano pieces formed the main part of this innovative programme, with works by Howard Skempton and Paige Halliwell threaded in between the four groupings and closing with Michael Nyman.

This is the first time I have heard the Játékok pieces live, and they were a revelation. The only real influence I could discern was certainly not Beethoven, nor indeed Bartok, but Webern. In truth they were utterly original.

Each miniature beautifully crafted, each a portrait, a homage to his friends, fellow artistic travellers – Ligeti, Christian Wolff, a nod to Bach and, in the touching Hommage á Kurtág Márta, his wife with whom he played the piano duets.

All four groups were played by different pianists: Brinsley Morrison, Sam Goodhead, Katie Laing and Imogen Weedon & Charlotte Brettell (duets from Book VIII). Their care, the quality of touch, the precision and understanding of these tiny, intricate, aphoristic gems was a delight; polished and professional.

Játékok means games in Hungarian. Indeed, Kurtág said: “The idea of composing Játékok was suggested by children playing spontaneously, children for whom the piano still means a toy.” And this was what the performances created, that sense of innocent wonderment and discovery. 

The Chimera Ensemble was conducted by John Stringer, always a good thing. His precision and quiet authority ensured refinement and clarity in the three dovetailed works.

Howard Skempton’s Sirens (Version 1 and Versions 2 & 3) came across like musical paintings, gentle landscapes of instrumental colour created by simple chords oscillating between the different instrumental groups.

Now I do like Howard’s music, and I like the guy himself. I also like that these pieces were written for CoMA, a contemporary music organisation whose aims and values I share. However, although the performances were genuinely relaxing and engaging, the experience for me at least, was a little underwhelming.

Indeed, I initially thought the second Chimera contribution was also by Skempton – the lights being dimmed for, presumably, a performance-enhanced experience also meant it was difficult to see the actual programme notes – and a more enjoyable one too.

I’d actually written “that’s more like it, Howard” in my notes, only to discover it was a piece called Flux by Paige Halliwell – and a good one too. The Chimera Ensemble delivered its monolithic sound world to great effect where melodic shapes emerged, sometimes for their own sake and sometimes as part of a short musical conversation. Good performance, good piece.

Now to the Nyman, a composer whose music always gives me genuine foot-tapping, pulsating joy. I love the immediacy, intelligence and the physicality of his works. Not here, however. Despite the remarkably disciplined six-piano performance, the velvety textures and quiet jazzy influences, this did not work for me. I found the piece and musical experience a spectacularly self-indulgent, utterly tedious waste of time. I’ll get my coat.

Review by Steve Crowther

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REVIEW: Martin Dreyer’s verdict on University of York Symphony Orchestra, 26/11/2022

Conductor John Stringer

University of York Symphony Orchestra (USO) Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall, University of York, November 26

TICKETS were like gold dust for the USO’s latest foray under its permanent conductor John Stringer.

This is a popular group and its standards are high. The programme encompassed London as painted by Elgar and Paris as seen by Delius and Gershwin, with a couple of brief side-trips from Grainger in between.

Elgar’s concert overture Cockaigne (In London Town) is a series of vignettes of London life. He wanted to lift his spirits in 1901 after the disastrous initial response to The Dream Of Gerontius the previous year. As an establishment outsider, he also needed a way back into the musical mainstream. Cockaigne did the trick.

The violins were immediately bold in the vivacious opening melody but the change of mood to the more serious side of the Londoner was fluently done, even if things only quietened down fully when we glimpsed the lovers in the park. The military march rang out with majestic bravado underpinned by an especially zealous timpanist.

Although premiered the same year as Cockaigne, Delius’s Paris: The Song Of A Great City is quite a different animal, much more personal, indeed almost autobiographical. It started a little uncertainly here, before finding its way into a more shapely impressionism; the sinuous phrasing of the bass clarinet led the way.

The night air was warmed by the saltarello rhythm suggesting distant revels. But after the frenzy of bacchanalia leading to the march we reached an immense climax, which suited the orchestra’s mood perfectly. Thereafter the encompassing lull before the last great chord was serenely controlled.

Percy Grainger struck up a lasting friendship with Delius, so there was a personal link in his Dreamery, which – contrary to the Grainger image of relentless jollity – is a quiet daydream for strings alone. It dates from immediately after the First World War  and is clearly nostalgic for calmer times. The orchestra’s fine body of violins were right at home here and all the strings enjoyed the composer’s delicate tapestry.

Equally brief but no less effective was Grainger’s arrangement of Ravel’s La Vallée des Cloches, from his piano suite ‘Miroirs’. Ravel had originally intended to orchestrate it himself. The opening section for tuned percussion was hypnotic. When the strings finally joined them, the violas made succulent use of their time in the spotlight.

We stayed in France for An American In Paris, Gershwin’s jocular parody of the archetypal Yank abroad, bold, brazen, and more than a little loud. He got off to a jaunty start, courtesy of the woodwinds, and the syncopation that followed was nicely edgy.

The sleaze quotient lifted with blues trumpet and tuba. Tempo changes were smoothly negotiated, as this American began to look and listen rather than impose himself. The ending was triumphant. It had all been a tasty travelogue.

Review by Martin Dreyer

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REVIEW: Martin Dreyer’s verdict on University of York Chamber Orchestra

John Stringer: “Moulded University of York Chamber Orchestra into a fine ensemble”

University of York Chamber Orchestra/John Stringer, Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall, University of York, February 23

THE big attraction of the evening was Mendelssohn’s Second Piano Concerto, but it was attractively preceded by Kaija Saariaho’s Terra Memoria and Britten’s song-cycle A Charm Of Lullabies, in the version orchestrated by Colin Matthews.

Despite this nicely varied menu, it was a slightly strange choice. The Saariaho is for string orchestra, which left wind and brass on the sidelines. No harm in that, except that the remaining pieces relegated the orchestra to an accompanying role, leaving it little chance to show its full colours. For John Stringer has moulded this orchestra into a fine ensemble – it deserved more exposure here.

Saariaho, who celebrates her 70th birthday in October, has lived in Paris for 40 years, although born in Helsinki. Her outlook is very much pan-European. Terra Memoria, which dates from 2007, is marked “for those departed”.

In under eight minutes, it articulates six different moods. Stealing on the ear as if already underway, it meanders gently, with snippets of solo violin: the string principals are a major feature of the piece.

It becomes a little angrier before calming into a plaintive, slithering motif in the upper strings. Still favouring upper voices, it then gets darker. Now laced with tremolo, it becomes more insistent as it gains in rhythmic momentum and reaches a tutti unison, a most effective climax.

Thereafter it slows into something more diffuse, echoing the opening. Although not specifically in a minor key, it has the feeling of one.  The orchestra approached it tenderly, which made it even more engaging.

Time for another gripe. The printed programme fell a long way short of its usual standard here. The five songs of the Britten were neither numbered nor laid out properly, still less were there any texts, which is de rigueur for a solo vocal work. The concerto movements were not listed either.

This was especially unhelpful for the singer, Ellie Stamp. She was listed as a soprano, although the cycle is written for mezzo-soprano: Stamp’s lower range was not really strong enough, but when given the chance she showed plenty of heft above the stave.

Without the texts, however, it was not immediately obvious to the casual listener where she was, a task not made easier by Matthews running the first three and the last two songs together.

In general, despite the added intensity of the title song, the orchestra was a little too heavy in its accompaniment, with a preponderance of low tone provided by three double basses – at least one too many. Stamp has a good sound and a pleasing personality, but she was not best served here.

John Smith – he might be encouraged to use his middle name, if he has one – was the fluent soloist in the Mendelssohn. He graduated from this department last summer. He frowns a lot, no doubt in pursuit of expression, but otherwise is free of histrionics in what is a free-wheeling technique. The runs in the opening Allegro were admirably clear and he discovered plenty of drama in its development section.

He was inclined to over-romanticise the slow movement, which slowed almost to a halt, but when he increased the tone here it was out of scale with what had preceded it. His best was kept till last. His staccato touch in the finale was excellent; he maintained an exciting pace, injecting sforzandos without mannerisms, and the orchestra caught his enthusiasm.

Review by Martin Dreyer