REVIEW: Martin Dreyer’s verdict on North York Moors Chamber Music Festival, Of Music In The Silver Air (Algernon Charles Swinburne, August), Marquee, Welburn Manor, August 12

The Waldstein Trio

TWO French piano quintets dominated this programme, with solo piano bonbons introducing each.

César Franck wrote four piano trios as a teenager and then took nearly 40 years to produce his grand Piano Quintet in F minor, premiered in 1880. Another 40 years later, Gabriel Fauré wrote his Second Piano Quintet in C minor, unveiling it in 1921. They carry certain similarities but if anything the Franck sounds the more modern.

For the Franck we had the Waldstein Trio joined by Benjamin Baker as first violin and Megan Cassidy as viola. The Waldsteins were much more focused than at their earlier outing here, not striving to make an effect, and blended well with their colleagues.

It may help to remember that although Franck was born in Belgium and became French, his parents were both of German origin. This helps to explain why the principle of leitmotif, popularised by Wagner, became so important to him: one major theme recurs in various guises in all three movements of this work. It takes a while to emerge – which accounts for the urgency this ensemble brought to the opening, while searching for its raison d’être.

The start of the slow movement similarly gropes in the darkness, but it reached a nice apex here before subsiding with a sigh of relief. The tremolos in the finale lent a sense of menace, this edginess here peaking in the two heavy pizzicato passages and eventually rushing towards a highly emotional climax, where major and minor keys jostled for superiority.

The Fauré is altogether less pretentious and the now changed ensemble reflected this. The key to its success was the delicate restraint but brilliant underpinning provided by the pianist Joseph Havlat; he was never percussive. The violins of Charlotte Scott and Emma Parker were joined by the viola of Gary Pomeroy and the cello of Jamie Walton.

There was a comfortable ebb and flow right from the start before an energetic conversation between piano and strings. In the light and airy scherzo, taken at a terrific pace, the strings were like flitting fireflies.

In contrast, the richer harmonies of the slow movement spoke of a new intimacy, over the piano’s rippling flow: its main theme, heard on low strings, delivered deep emotion before vanishing into space. The viola’s opening theme was tossed around in various guises throughout a luscious finale.

Daniel Lebhardt had opened the evening with two more tasteful episodes from Janacek’s On An Overgrown Path, always sustaining their simplicity. Similarly, he applied deft brush strokes to a Debussy prelude, a thoughtful painter at his easel.

Charlotte Scott

North York Moors Chamber Music Festival, Time Present and Time Past (T S Eliot, Four Quartets), St Mary’s Church, Lastingham, August 14

THE opening line of Burnt Norton, the first of T S Eliot’s Four Quartets, was amply reflected in this stirring two-pronged matinee. A very recent string trio by Huw Watkins was followed by the last of Mozart’s six string quartets dedicated to Haydn.

There is a special aura about Lastingham church. This certainly owes much to its Saxon foundation, but equally its radiant stonework lends lightness and intimacy to an arena where none of the audience is far from the players.

In Huw Watkins’s Second String Trio, these were the violinist Oliver Heath, the violist Gary Pomeroy and the cellist Jamie Walton. The intensity of their cohesion in what is by any standards a very demanding work was a privilege to experience.

The work is divided into seven short sections. It bounced straight into an electric rampage, with a marginally calmer centre. This dissolved into the total contrast of a luscious, lyrical slow movement. Like a video dissolving into new frames, it led into something darker, with upper-voice pizzicato that encouraged the cello to break free.

But one senses that Watkins does not like to stay serious for long. A flippant, frolicsome frenzy followed, suggesting Bacchic dance or even a rite of spring. A residue of anger seeped into the subsequent Adagio, although it gradually sweetened, providing a springboard into an angular free-for-all, with all threesquabbling over a four-note motif.

However,  the extraordinary finale, with supercharged cross-accents and catchy syncopation, saw the players finally coalesce in sensational style. Both the piece and its delivery were a tour de force. I would gladly hear it again any time.

After that, it hardly seemed possible that Mozart’s K.465 in C, nicknamed the ‘Dissonance’, could match the excitement of the Watkins. The violins now were Charlotte Scott and Emma Parker, with Pomeroy’s viola remaining on stage and Tim Posner taking the cello chair.

One of the special features of this festival is watching professionals go all out on a favourite piece: the thrills risk spills. But there were no spills here. After an opening as teasingly perplexing as Mozart clearly intended, there was terrific energy in the release of pent-up tension that followed and with it great transparency, so taut was the ensemble. The lovely Andante began a little forcefully but the pregnant silences in its second half were cleverly stretched.

There was even more of a surprise in the trio, which turned into a mini-drama in Sturm und Drang style, a hangover from the 1770s. The finale was brilliantly pointed. The devil was in the detail: the two-note staccato upbeat to the main theme, for example, taken in a subtle variety of ways, or the chromatic harmony, thrown out nonchalantly.

Mozart said that these six quartets were “the fruit of long and laborious effort”. This one was made to sound effortless, not least because Posner’s cello sustained the lightest of touches and allowed the spotlight to fall elsewhere: the quartet often seemed to be floating on air, a magical effect. Perhaps the secret was in the surrounding stonework.

Daniel Lebhardt

North York Moors Chamber Music Festival, Of A Dark Path Growing Longer (Angela Leighton, Cyclamen at the winter solstice), Marquee, Welburn Manor, August 16

THIS was an eclectic mix of solo piano numbers interspersed with music for horn, with a Leighton piano quartet at its centre. Many of the pieces referred to night and darkness, appropriately geared to the winter solstice of the title poem.

Such is the wealth of talent on hand at this festival that there were no less than four pianists on parade here.

There were 11 pieces throughout the evening. Joseph Havlat opened the innings with the last two of Schumann’s Night Pieces for piano Op 23, the first with intriguing inner voices, the second a moving chorale. In two more of Janáček’s cycle On An Overgrown Path (dotted through the festival), he was attentive to incidental detail, especially in the sploshy “Unutterable anguish”.

Daniel Lebhardt contributed Janáček’s lullaby Good Night! towards the end, having earlier accompanied Ben Goldscheider’s horn in Mark Simpson’s Nachtstück, which delivered a pretty forceful reaction to the time of day that inspired it.

Over the rambling bass line in a very active piano role at the start, the horn flew ever higher, before something gentler followed. The horn’s response to increasingly martial piano was a muted passage almost by way of protest. A processional passage in straight time blew into a climax, before an apologetic pianissimo that seemed to include quarter-tones. It was an odd but involving mixture.

The pianist Katya Apekisheva made two welcome appearances: first, on her own in Brahms’s B flat minor Intermezzo, Op 117 No 2, where her delicate arpeggios enhanced the work’s autumnal aura, and then partnering Goldscheider in Schumann’s Adagio & Allegro in A flat, Op 70. They blended superbly. After faultless scene-setting, Schumann’s flights of fancy were mouth-watering, the duo building on one another’s phrases rather than competing.

Goldscheider was back at once in Huw Watkins’s Lament, which he had commissioned in 2021 to celebrate the centenary of Dennis Brain’s birth. The composer himself was his partner at the piano. In mainly tonal, if mildly modal, harmony a slow cantilena built to an anguished climax, at which point both players grew more temperamental. It finally subsided into a resigned pianissimo, in true elegiac fashion, as if wondering what might have been had Brain lived longer.

The central work in this programme was Leighton’s Contrasts and Variants, Op 63 (1972), a piano quartet in one movement, which was given in the presence of his daughter (the poet quoted above).

Alongside Watkins as pianist we had violinist Benjamin Baker, violist Gary Pomeroy and cellist Tim Posner. Essentially an extended theme and variations, it rambles through a variety of moods, although always with an underlying romanticism.

There was some elegant syncopated pizzicato at its heart, and the players were able chameleons through its rapidly-changing colours. But even at the end, after the strings had been muted, we were left with a sense of yearning.

Goldscheider ended the evening in dazzling style with Messiaen’s solo horn evocation of the cosmos, Appel Interstellaire. It calls for a veritable thesaurus of brass techniques. Goldscheider not only despatched them all with panache, he also gave them compelling logic, a bravura performance.

Reviews by Martin Dreyer

REVIEW: Martin Dreyer’s verdict on The Heath Quartet, British Music Society of York

The Heath Quartet, now led by violinist Marije Johnston, second from right

The Heath Quartet, British Music Society of York (BMS), Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall, University of York, December 3

THE Heath Quartet last appeared in York exactly ten years ago. At that time, they were led by their founder, Oliver Heath. Then he decided to seek pastures new and Marije Johnston took his place.

What you would never guess from this performance is that that exchange took place a mere four months ago. Johnston’s pedigree as a chamber musician allowed her to slot seamlessly into place. Bear that in mind as you read on.

At first sight, the pairing of late Janáček and late Beethoven string quartets – played in that order – looks quirky, even fanciful. The works were written almost exactly 100 years apart, each within a year of the composer’s death. They formed the Heath Quartet’s sparkling, I dare even say memorable, programme for the BMS of York.

Janacek’s Second Quartet – known as ‘Intimate Letters’ and encapsulating the turbulent emotions of his more than 700 letters to Kamila Stösslová, his much younger muse in his final decade – has four movements but with constantly changing tempos in each.

The seven movements of Beethoven’s Op 131 in C sharp minor run into one another, making the work equally restless, if not more so. Near death they may have been, but each man was writing in the white heat of unbridled inspiration. The parallels are uncanny.

So the Janáček turned out to be a perfect intro into the Beethoven: they were men on the same kind of mission. The Heaths tuned into that immediately.

Apart from the cellist, who sat on a small plinth, the others stood to play, which allowed them freedom of movement. Johnston, playing second fiddle here, and viola player Gary Pomeroy took full advantage, swaying and bending ceaselessly. Sara Wolstenholme, leading, remained much calmer. But none of this affected their ensemble; they breathed, and played, as one.

The key player in the Janáček is the viola, who represents Kamila. Pomeroy did not disappoint. The work veers, sometimes wildly, between tension and lyricism and he skilfully spearheaded the latter.

Janáček’s yearnings welled up regularly, almost physically so in the slow second movement with palpitations and a devilish Ländler-style dance. The ebbs and flows of the third movement seemed to disintegrate into disillusionment in its adagio section, while the Dumka finale with its spine-tingling tremolos juxtaposed slow-moving melancholy with much livelier excitement. This was vivid musical autobiography, tellingly told.

In the Beethoven, the violinists changed places, so that Johnston now led. This symbolised just how closely all four players are integrated with one another. The piece marks a virtual renaissance of the 18th century divertimento, so diffuse is its layout.

The duos of the opening fugue were quietly menacing, but the succeeding Allegro was both playful and intimate; once again the Heaths were alive to sudden mood-changes. The central variations were delicately drawn.

The Presto, taken at a good clip, was treated like a scherzo, full of good humour and a lightness of touch we might expect in Mendelssohn. The finale’s two themes were beautifully contrasted, culminating in a ferociously determined final burst. Here, more than ever, we had the sense of theatre that infused the whole evening. This always was – and still is – a quartet worth travelling a long way to hear.

Review by Martin Dreyer