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REVIEW: Steve Crowther’s verdict on Zoë Tweed and Mark Rogers, BMS York Concerts, Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall, University of York, December 6

Zoë Tweed: “Masterclass in horn technique”

THE recital opened with Eugène Bozza’s En Forêt. This was written as an examination piece for the Paris Conservatory in 1941, and it showed.

The demands in this virtuosic work are considerable, and Zoë Tweed treated us to a masterclass in horn technique covering: agility, range, lip trills, hand stopping, fast tonguing, control of extreme registers and glissandi.

I thought it took a moment or two for Ms Tweed to get into the groove, but maybe it was my ear getting acclimatised to the natural harmonics. But the performance showed that En Forêt works perfectly fine as a duet. It was atmospheric and full of life and the piano accompaniment was quite impressionistic. The obligatory call and response hunting calls or tropes added a sense of fun, for me anyway.

In complete contrast to En Forêt, Jean-Michel Damase’s Berceuse is a short, relaxed affair. I thought the performance was enjoyable, but the piece itself didn’t really contribute much to the programme. And to be honest, the same could be said of Charles Koechlin’ s 1925 Sonata for Horn and Piano (1st Movement). The performance did deliver a simple, even quite serene Moderato (sounding more like a traditional Andante).

Sat in between the two was the more interesting Tre Poemi: Lamento D’Orfeo by Volker David Kirchener. The piece is Romantic, well, in its character anyway, but embraced a modernistic style regarding both horn colour and technique. This was evident right at the opening, Ms Tweed pointing the bell of the horn at, or into the open piano lid, with the effect of using the piano’s soundboard and sustaining pedal to lengthen the horn notes.

The duo closed the first half with a fabulous performance of Paul Dukas’s Villanelle. This too was written as an exam piece, but the technical challenges – stopped notes, fast scales, playing without valves using natural horn techniques – were secondary to the piece of music itself.

I absolutely loved the delightful sharing of the musical spoils, warm and sunny with ripples of brilliance. This was easily the most rewarding horn and piano work in the programme.

Astor Piazzolla’s Ave Maria proved to be a cosy introduction to the second half with fine playing from both performers. Wolfgang Plagge’s Monoceros is a piece for solo horn about the legendary unicorn, an animal everybody has heard about but mercifully never seen.

Zoë Tweed delivered an evocative, technically flawless performance; the cute ending depicting the unicorn disappearing into the legendary mists was just lovely. However, I found the piece itself pretty underwhelming; each to our own, I know.

The programme closed with York Bowen’s Horn Sonata, Op. 101. This is a seriously well-crafted work, which in itself is rewarding. Of the three movements, it was the energetic Allegro con Spirito finale that really impressed.

 The players were clearly relishing the challenges; wide interval leaps with an evenness of tone (horn) and dazzling ‘orchestral’ textures (piano). What stayed with me was the distinctive timbre of the horn’s low register.

There was a touching mother (Karen Street) and daughter (Zoë Tweed) signing-off, Epilogue. The work was a composed as a tribute to the Prologue in Britten’s Serenade for Tenor, Horn and Strings.

This concert clearly demonstrated what an exceptional performer Zoë Tweed is. But without doubt the best and most satisfying contribution came from pianist Mark Rogers’ playing of the two Schumann selections from Kinderszenen, Op.15 and Waldszenen, Op. 82. Well, it is Schumann after all, and Mr Rogers played them beautifully.

Review by Steve Crowther  

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REVIEW: Martin Dreyer’s verdict on Danny Driver, Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall, University of York, November 29

Danny Driver: “Did not hold back from giving it the full tour-de-force treatment”

IT was testament to his versatility that no fewer than ten different composers featured in Danny Driver’s piano recital.

A first half concentrating on music for evening and night centred on Beethoven and Schumann. Thereafter music of the last 50 years included several living composers, though one suspects this was more challenging for him than for his audience.

Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight’ Sonata, Op 27 No 1 in C sharp minor, was ushered in by the gentle lilt of Schumann’s Des Abends, its unsettled accompaniment suggesting that all was not quite well with the composer’s evening.

The Beethoven was allowed to speak for itself, its opening melody strongly outlined, while menace remained in the dotted rhythms of the left hand. In a controlled scherzo, he neatly differentiated the two halves of the opening phrase – so important for what follows – into legato (first four notes) and staccato (the remaining four). Clarity was the watchword here.

So too in the finale, which was properly agitato and taken at a tremendous lick. Beethoven’s anger here was never in doubt and Driver did not hold back from giving it the full tour-de-force treatment, with heavily percussive accents like rifle shots.

Danny Driver: Virtuosity in a daring programme. Picture: Kaupo Kikkas

In contrast, Schumann’s ‘Ghost’ Variations remained intimate (‘innig’ as he marks the theme), reflecting a moment of rare calm at a time when the composer’s mental health was precarious. There was a pleasing flow to the melody. Even in the minor key variation (the fourth), we were kept in touch with the theme by its rhythm.

After a brief journey with Debussy to the swaying dances of a Grenada evening came total change in Scriabin’s ‘Black Mass’ Sonata, No 9, which bubbled up repeatedly like a witches’ cauldron. Driver perfectly reflected the score’s volatility, almost a bacchanalian orgy, which died with exhaustion in the closing bars.

After the interval we were on much newer ground. Five Ligeti Études acted as template for a series of 21st century reactions in very similar vein. With few exceptions, the later versions were pale reflections of the original.

All but two used rapid staccato figures, hovering much of the time in the very upper reaches of the keyboard with minimalist intent. At least Martin Suckling’s Orrery (with the composer present) had a distinctive bell-like underlay and grew in intensity, thereby engaging the attention.

One could only marvel at Driver’s virtuosity and wonder how he was able to memorise such similar works. It was a daring programme, but it needed something meatier at the centre of its second half.

Review by Martin Dreyer

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REVIEW: Martin Dreyer’s verdict on ‘Which Dreamed It?’, North York Moors Chamber Music Festival

Ben Goldscheider: “Immaculate”

North York Moors Chamber Music Festival: ‘Which Dreamed It?’, St Mary’s, Lastingham, August 25

THIS was one of the North York Moors Chamber Music Festival’s more adventurous programmes, but that did not deter the punters: it was a full house.

There were two pieces each from Schumann and Debussy, balanced by four much more contemporary works by two Brits and two Germans. It made for a stimulating mix, not least because the performers were so utterly committed.

Ben Goldscheider began out of sight in the Saxon crypt, the church otherwise darkened, with Bernhard Krol’s Laudatio for solo horn (1966). Inspired by the ancient Christian hymn Te Deum Laudamus, it could hardly have been more appropriate as a scene-setter, journeying from plainsong into more modern, questing territory. Goldscheider was immaculate.

He also closed the evening, with Jörg Widmann’s Air (2006). The music conveys something of the atmosphere of alphornists signalling to each other between mountain-tops, so that there are constant echoes and imitations, given a third dimension by the piano strings being wedged open and resonating eerily. It is a favourite competition piece. Goldscheider was more than equal to its taxing variations and drew sustained applause.

He had been soloist in Schumann’s Adagio and Allegro, with Daniel Lebhardt offering tenacious piano support. After nicely sustained legato in the Adagio, he cantered through the succeeding rondo with immense panache, testing his rapid tonguing even further by speeding up in the coda.

In Mark Simpson’s Nachtstück (2021), he did not hold back from the work’s more nightmarish contrasts, varying his tone in the darkness, but becoming more triumphal after Lebhardt’s keyboard climax. He is a riveting performer.

Debussy’s Rhapsody (named ‘First’ but in fact the only one) for clarinet and piano (1910) saw the first appearances of Robert Plane and Christian Chamorel respectively. Plane captured the composer’s will-o’-the-wisp aura, much helped by Chamorel’s early restraint. They brought terrific verve to the work’s later stages.

They were joined by viola player Simone van der Giessen for Schumann’s Märchenerzählungen (Fairy-tale narrations). Three of the four tales are marked ‘lively’ and they got off to an effervescent start.

There were pleasing contrasts, though, both in the lovely central section of the second tale and in the martial, dotted rhythms of the last, which were crisp and to the point. The exception was the third, where a peaceful, rocking movement in the piano featherbedded a soaring line in the viola, not quite matched here by the clarinet.

The four berceuses from Thomas Adès’s opera The Exterminating Angel are not the stuff of sweet dreams, indeed the title is ironic. With Lebhardt returning to the piano, viola and clarinet brought an elegiac feel to the opening lullaby, followed by something altogether bolder with a terrifying ending in the second. Only the finale seemed likely to produce a soporific effect – and it was touchingly shaped.

Review by Martin Dreyer

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REVIEW: Steve Crowther’s verdict on Mishka Rushdie Momen and Friends at Ryedale Festival

Mishka Rushdie Momen: “Clearly one of the most thoughtful, gifted and sensitive British pianists”

Ryedale Festival: Mishka Rushdie Momen and Friends, National Centre for Early Music, York, July 25

IT’S an odd thing about the NCEM acoustic at St Margaret’s Church: the spoken voice is difficult to hear clearly, unless of course you use a microphone, as in the preconcert introduction.

This was true of both spoken contributions from violinist Tim Crawford and Ms Momen, and yet I could hear the pizzicato playing by cellist Tim Posner resonating beautifully throughout the performance. Mind you, he is a very fine player.

Anyhow, to the concert itself. Mishka Rushdie Momen and Friends suggested an intimate gathering of people who are on close terms with each other, and this is exactly what we got. The performers were at ease with each other.

They happily shared the dialogue, listening carefully to each instrumental utterance before replying. They even (musically) flirted with each other; the second canonic study by Schumann was a veritable love duet between violin and cello.

So, let’s start with the Schumann Six Etudes in Canonic Form Op. 56. Evidently, he wrote these pieces in 1845 as an attempt to overcome his “writer’s block”. They were originally written for organ or pedal piano, but it was Schumann’s friend, Theodor Kirchner, who later arranged these for piano trio. The canonic form is one of discipline, of formal conversation; we don’t usually tend to hear it sing, but it does here.

Following the tender second study touched on earlier, any whiff of the academic template is dispelled by the lovely Schumanesque melodic sound world. The music is joyous and so was the playing.

The fourth was conveyed as the charming romantic song it is, with lovely shaping of the musical phrases and rippling decoration. The performers clearly had fun with the very rhythmic, dance-like fifth and in the sixth they delivered a heartfelt, yearning finale. Moving too.

This brings us to the opening work, Smetana’s Trio in G minor, Op. 15. The Trio was written in response to the death of the composer’s four-year-old daughter, Bedriska, of scarlet fever in 1855. The players really captured the quite violent contrasts of the opening allegro moderato. Tender cello and violin solos crescendoed into full-throttle drive. These melted into both delicate and impassioned outpourings of nostalgic memory and grief.

There were echoes of Brahms in the work, but the overall impression conveyed was distinctly Czech; particularly in the thrilling second movement with its musical windows of reflection and the nervous energy of the brilliantly performed allegro finale.

Ms Momen’s performance of the wonderfully descriptive Smetana work, Memories Of Bohemia in the form of Polkas, was a real treat. Lovely touch, phrasing, expressive rubato and executed with real panache.

Mendelssohn’s Piano Trio in D minor Op.49 is a terrific work, and the trio delivered a terrific performance. Tim Posner’s opening cello theme was delivered with purpose and nobility. Ms Momen’s agitated accompaniment, at first chordal, then transformed into flights of bristling arpeggios as the theme is repeated.

The contrapuntal reworkings of the second, song-like melody were beautifully judged, as was the opening cello’s melody, now joined by a haunting descending line in the violin. The assai animato signing-off seemed to set the instruments on fire.

There was a quite intimate call and response about the Songs Without Words second movement. For example, in the opening musical piano invitation to the violin and cello to join the dance. The piano writing in the exuberant Scherzo is a virtuosic tour de force. And yet, captured in this performance, there is also magic in the air.

I loved the way the passages were thrown to each of the performers in turn, as in some musical game. The way the music effortlessly dissolved into the ether was delightful.

Apart from Tim Posner’s rather unexpected sweeping Mendelssohnian cello melody, this finale was very much hang-on-to-your-hats time. The driver is very much the piano, the writing is seriously demanding, and Ms Momen’s technique and musicality delivered. The final climax integrates the virtuosic and the song, with a crowd-pleasing signing off.

Mishka Rushdie Momen is clearly one of the most thoughtful, gifted and sensitive British pianists and consequently well equipped to embrace both solo and chamber music performance. Mishka Rushdie Momen and Friends – here the excellent Tim Crawford (violin) and Tim Posner (cello) – gave us a concert of equality of engagement, insight and enrichment.

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

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REVIEW: Martin Dreyer’s verdict on Roderick Williams & Christopher Glynn

Roderick Williams: “Such a perfectionist about diction”

Roderick Williams & Christopher Glynn, Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall, University of York, January 18

IT used to be said that a successful service in church was one where you came out feeling better about life because the sermon was so good. The feeling is similar when you go to a concert that fulfils every expectation and warms the soul. This was one of those rare occasions.

Christopher Glynn has commissioned new English translations of three of Schumann’s song cycles of 1840 from Jeremy Sams and has given York the honour of hearing their premieres.

Satisfyingly, it was a full house that greeted the first of these, Dichterliebe (A Poet’s Love). That was not all. Three other Schumann lieder prefaced the cycle. A further 16 followed the interval, including a Quilter cycle, all under the umbrella of “Tell Me The Truth About Love”. By any standards it was a feast.

For anyone who knew the Schumann cycle in the original German, the translation initially sounded wrong. No fault of Sams, but the original words kept floating to the surface of one’s memory. Yet in the end there was a gain; there had to be. Roderick Williams is such a perfectionist about diction that he clearly relished using his native tongue. It soon became infectious.

Presumably for copyright reasons, no translation was available. But just to take a single example, ‘Ich Grolle Nicht’. This began ‘I won’t complain, despite my pain’. Williams’s baritone positively dripped with irony, made possible by a translation that captured exactly what Heinrich Heine, the original poet, had in mind. The only disappointment was his decision not to take the optional high note in the penultimate phrase.

Throughout the cycle the flow of the words was hugely satisfying, matching the original syllable for syllable. Just occasionally, Sams failed to find enough syllables and had to resort to melisma (setting a syllable to more than one note). But this was unusual. This translation is a stylish achievement.

Christopher Glynn: “Extraordinary perceptions coming from his piano”

It almost goes without saying that Williams was totally inside the music. But he could not have done it without the equally extraordinary perceptions coming from Glynn’s piano, allied to an uncanny sense of timing. The postlude, larded with exquisite rubato, seemed to encapsulate all the feelings that had gone before, a perfect précis.

The second half was more free ranging. Four more lieder included three 19th century ladies, Clara Schumann, Fanny Mendelssohn and most notably Josephine Lang, whose harmonically gorgeous Abschied (Farewell) made a strong impact. All three deserve much more recital exposure.

Before them we heard Quilter’s Seven Elizabethan Lyrics and marvelled anew at his modern twist on old harmonies. ‘The Faithless Shepherdess’ was wonderfully crisp, while the setting of Ben Jonson’s ‘By A Fountainside’ was tenderly evocative. Williams is well suited to this cycle, which brings out the full compass of his baritone.

An Anglo-American group completed the evening, including Sophie Hannah’s witty The Pros And Cons and a nicely declamatory I Said To Love, the title song of Finzi’s Thomas Hardy cycle. William Bolcom’s Toothbrush Time was the natty encore. Williams and Glynn make a first-class pairing.

A ‘pre- recital’ featured four singers, all of whom showed promise, although none really made use of their words. They would do well to emulate Williams.

Review by Martin Dreyer

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REVIEW:  Steve Crowther’s verdict on The Academy of St Olave’s Winter Concert

Alan George: Conducted Academy of St Olave’s Winter Concert

The Academy of St Olave’s Winter Concert, York St John University Creative Centre Theatre, York, 21/1/2023

THIS concert in support of the Jessie’s Fund charity celebrated the music of Schubert, Beethoven and Schumann.

The opening of Schubert’s Incidental music for Rosamunde did seem a tad tentative, hardly surprising given the occasion and new venue with its somewhat dry acoustic. But the Academy quickly hit their stride with a confident Overture brimming with energy and lovely woodwind contributions, dancing gracefully in their many pastoral guises.

This is the first time I have heard this pick’n’mix of musical treats, and the performance was a delight:  warm and dignified (Ballet music in B minor), humming nobility (Entr’acte in D major), decisive tempo shifts and a lovely delivery of that melody (Entr’acte in Bb) and so forth.

Then we were suddenly transported to the musical grown-ups’ table with a thrilling performance of Beethoven’s “heroic” Overture Leonore No. 3. This is a truly remarkable work, symphonic in scope and depth.

The musical journey from dark to light, despair to hope was compellingly conveyed in this focused, driven performance. The ‘distant’ trumpet call (signalling the liberation of Florestan and Leonore) was very telling.

Following the interval was a chocolatey-rich delivery of Schumann’s wonderful Symphony No. 3 (Rhenish). I love this work, indeed I love the musical generosity of thiswork. And so did the orchestra. Under the assured musical direction of conductor Alan George, the performance oozed clarity and confidence.

The Rhenish has no introductory welcome, the starting trigger is fired with the players delivering a high-energy, joyful first movement. There was much to admire here, but balance is the key for the necessary clarity, and this performance had it. I particularly enjoyed the quite extraordinary sound world of the fourth “Cathedral Scene” movement, with gorgeous, ecclesiastical (perhaps?) trombone playing.

But I will leave the final word to the orchestral leader Claire Jowett. Ms Jowett has performed this vital, always understated, almost unnoticed role for more years than I care to remember (sorry Claire). And yet the importance of leading the strings with such certainty of purpose is integral to the success and confidence of all concerned.

Review by Steve Crowther

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Academy of St Olave’s to play German works in debut performance at York St John University’s Creative Centre Theatre

Alan George: Academy Of St Olave’s musical director

THE Academy of St Olave’s presents a trio of early Romantic masterpieces by Beethoven, Schubert and Schumann its Winter Concert on January 21.

The 8pm programme will be performed in a new location for the York chamber orchestra: York St John University’s Creative Centre Theatre.

This will be one of the first classical music concerts to be held in the 170-seat theatre, which opened last year.

Schubert’s incidental music to the play Rosamunde, including the famous third Entr’acte, will be followed by Beethoven’s Leonore No. 3 Overture, arguably the finest of the four overtures he composed for his only opera, Fidelio.

Both Fidelio, under its original title of Leonore, and Rosamunde were first performed at Vienna’s Theater an der Wien, in 1805 and 1823 respectively,  meaning the Academy’s presentation of Rosamunde will mark 200 years since the play’s premiere.

The concert concludes with Schumann’s melodious Symphony No. 3, inspired by the composer’s move to Düsseldorf in the Rhineland and thus nicknamed “The Rhenish”.

The Academy’s musical director, Alan George, says: “We’re looking forward to performing a trio of thrilling works by three of the great Germanic composers of the early 19th century: Beethoven, Schubert and Schumann; a combination sure to delight our audience.

“We’re also pleased to be one of the first orchestras to perform at York St John University’s Creative Centre Theatre, helping to introduce a new – and warm! – venue to the city’s music scene. Finally, I’m delighted that the Academy has chosen once again to support Jessie’s Fund at this concert.”

The Jessie’s Fund children’s charity was set up by Alan and his wife, Lesley Schatzberger, after their nine-year-old daughter Jessie’s brain tumour diagnosis in 1994. Sadly, Jessie died shortly afterwards, but Lesley and Alan decided that Jessie’s Fund should become a charity dedicated to helping seriously ill and disabled children through the therapeutic use of music.

Based in York, Jessie’s Fund now helps children all over the United Kingdom. The Academy’s support through this month’s concert comes at a pivotal time for the charity, as Lesley steps back from leading it. More information on the charity’s work can be found at:  https://jessiesfund.org.uk/.

Tickets cost £15 (£5 for students and accompanied under-18s) at www.academyofstolaves.org.uk. Please note, ticket numbers are limited, so booking in advance is recommended to avoid disappointment.

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REVIEW: Martin Dreyer’s verdict on Stephen Hough, Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall, University of York, October 6

Stephen Hough: “A hungry lion newly released from his cage”

THE resumption of the University of York’s Live Concert series was greeted with a full house on Wednesday. No wonder: we were there to welcome a titan of the keyboard.

Stephen Hough was in pugnacious mood, as well he might be after prolonged lockdown, a hungry lion newly released from his cage. He had chosen to satisfy his appetite on meaty chunks of Schumann and Chopin, leavened by two British composers, Alan Rawsthorne and Hough himself.

Rawsthorne’s Bagatelles, his first serious piano music that coincided with his first international recognition in 1938, launched Hough straight into a tempestuous whirlwind, although that was soon moderated by more pensive lyricism, a skittish interlude and a sad duologue between the hands, as if looking back at what might have been these past two years.

Forward-looking Schumann, stretching tonality as far as he ever did, came with Kreisleriana, dedicated to Chopin but written in 1838 with Clara Wieck in mind, in the long run-up to their marriage two years later.

The two sides of Schumann’s personality, fiery Florestan and easy-going Eusebius, actually mirrored the eccentric conductor Kreisler (a figment of E T A Hoffmann’s imagination), who is pictured here in eight “fantasies”, in G minor or its relative major, B flat.

In truth, it was Florestan who had much the upper hand in this account, with the forte passages cumulatively becoming an angry tour de force and the slower melodies tending towards moodiness. But there always a keen sense of shape, even when Schumann was at his most temperamental.

Hough’s own five-movement Partita, written only two years ago, proved a substantial treat. The martial opening of its Overture returns in driven style after a flightier Trio (such as every march should have), before a cute little coda.

A jittery Capriccio and two eloquent song-and-dance routines inspired by Mompou, the one very high, the other elegiac, preceded a hugely demanding Toccata, which could not help recalling Widor’s eponymous movement from his Fifth Symphony. It reached a breath-taking climax.

Finally, to more familiar Chopin, which was greeted with rapt attention. Ballade No 3 came across as an entity, rather than a series of episodes and its continuity was wholly convincing.

Hough’s unique ability to sustain a melody had really begun to emerge. In two nocturnes we were in piano heaven, with the most delicate of decorations in the F sharp (Op 15 No 2) and a gorgeously restrained, barely audible ending to the E flat (Op 9 No 2).

There was considerable urgency in the Second Scherzo, in B flat minor, which meant a mildly garbled ending when it accelerated, but by now Hough could do no wrong. This virtuoso lion was taking no prisoners – and we loved him for it. What a return!

Review by Martin Dreyer