REVIEW: Martin Dreyer’s verdict on York Guildhall Orchestra, York Barbican, May 18

Martin Roscoe: Stepped in as late replacement. “The orchestra was fortunate to secure him”

YORK Guildhall Orchestra observed two anniversaries at this entertaining Sunday matinee conducted by Simon Wright.

Shostakovich died a century after Ravel was born, in 1975 (he had visited York three years earlier). So 2025 conveniently marks both the sesquicentenary of the former’s birth and 50 years since the latter’s death. Before we heard from them, there were bonbons from Kabalevsky and Khachaturian. It was good family fare, with a sizeable audience to match.

The centrepiece was Shostakovich’s Second Piano Concerto, Op 102 in F, which dates from 1957. The composer was beginning his operetta Moscow, Cheryomushki at the same time and the concerto is in similarly light-hearted vein. That was certainly the line taken by Martin Roscoe, the doughty soloist; he had stepped in as replacement: the orchestra was fortunate to secure him.

Gone from the first movement are the grandiose gestures that other Russians, say Tchaikovsky or Rakhmaninov, might have given us. Roscoe penetrated its sense of humour immediately. He took its light, capricious textures in his stride, sustaining a sparkling staccato.

There was a lovely restraint just before the piano’s thunderous quadruple octaves, after which the orchestra briefly drowned him. But his accelerating cadenza made ample amends.

The introspective slow movement, almost a single line melody in the piano, was profoundly elegiac here and all the more effective for its simplicity. Almost as telling as the piano’s aggressive dance in the finale was the way Wright kept the pizzicato strings in such close attendance. It added brio to the excitement and seemed to inspire Roscoe through his virtuoso passages.

The overture to the first of Kabalevsky’s five operas, Colas Breugnon – he also wrote an operetta –was notable for the slickness in the orchestra’s handling of its syncopation. Listeners of an older generation will recall the Adagio from Khachaturian’s ballet Spartacus as the signature tune of that rollicking sea series, The Onedin Line.

 More aptly, perhaps, it was heard here the day before the ballet’s great choreographer Yuri Gregorovich died, at the age of 98. Wright built up the sweeping theme to a juicy climax.

After the interval it was all Ravel. The reduced orchestra gave a tender account of the Pavane Pour Une Infante Défunte. His colourful orchestration in the second Daphnis et Chloé suite – where we had one player, David Hammond, unusually doubling on double bass and celesta – was fully demonstrated by the huge percussion section.

The opening heat-haze was delicately drawn and the closing Bacchanale properly rumbustious. Ravel threw the kitchen sink at it – all we lacked here was the (optional) wordless chorus.

Bolero conjured Torvill & Dean – and much more. It calls for three saxophones, but Rachel Green played all those roles single-handed. Such is the versatility of this orchestra. These afternoon sessions are proving ever more successful, judging by the growing audiences, and the players are clearly revelling in it.

Review by Martin Dreyer

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