Tag: University of York

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REVIEW: Steve Crowther’s verdict on Carducci String Quartet, British Music Society of York, Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall, University of York, March 27

Carducci String Quartet

THE Carducci String Quartet opened their programme with a poised and assured account of Mozart’s String Quartet in C major, K. 465, the ‘Dissonance’.

Despite its nickname, the opening feels less discordant than unsettled, but its harmonic daring is still radical.

As Matthew Denton (first violin) pointed out, one more chromatic note and we would have the serial set: Haydn – Mozart – Schoenberg. Maybe.

Once the Allegro begins, however, the music resolves into clarity: the curtain lifted, the sun came out and Classical balance is restored. The ensemble interplay was lively and finely judged throughout.

The Menuetto – my favourite movement – retained its charm without underplaying the darker, less grounded A minor Trio. The Allegro molto last movement was again notable for the crisp exchanges, but it was the beautiful projection of song in the second movement Andante cantabile which really impressed.

The performance had a real operatic quality. Across the work, the Carduccis conveyed a strong sense of structural coherence.

After this Classical poise, Rebecca Clarke’s one-movement Poem opened up a more elusive, impressionistic sound world. The performance was highly persuasive. Echoes of Ravel and Debussy were clear, yet Clarke’s voice remained distinctive.

Themes seemed to emerge and dissolve rather than assert themselves, creating a continuous unfolding of mood and texture rather than a clearly defined architecture.

The Carducci Quartet clearly understood the music’s melancholic, unsettled character, shaping it with sensitivity and restraint. I admired the piece and the performance, but the impact was fleeting – the work didn’t stay with me, just a lovely impression of it.

From this impressionistic fluidity, the programme returned to firmer ground with Beethoven’s String Quartet in C major, Op. 59 No. 3, often regarded as the most immediately approachable of the Razumovsky quartets.

Its opening Andante shares something of Mozart’s harmonic uncertainty, unfolding with an almost improvisatory quality before the Allegro decisively asserts itself in a burst of C major energy and clarity.

This is a technically demanding movement, particularly for the first violin, and Matthew Denton was pushed to the limits in the frequent upper register passages of the development section. The rapid string crossings were dispatched with brilliance.

The second movement, Andante con moto, provided the emotional centre of the work: restrained, inward and quietly hypnotic, with an undercurrent of sadness that never became sentimental.

Maybe this hinted at the well-documented despair mapped out in the Heiligenstadt Testament? Probably not. What was fascinating was the recapitulation: here the themes are presented in reverse order, creating a quite radical sense of symmetry.

A charming, short Menuetto grazioso also functioned as a lead-in to the Allegro molto final movement. Suddenly, it was fasten-your-seatbelts time as the Quartet zipped through this relentless fugal tour de force. The articulation was razor-sharp and the rhythmic drive utterly relentless. It was an exhilarating conclusion, both to the work and to the programme as a whole.

The performance that stood out as being exceptional was their account of Philip Glass’s String Quartet No. 3, Mishima.

Drawn from Glass’s score for Paul Schrader’s Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters, the work unfolds in a series of vividly characterised tableaux. The familiar elements of minimalism – repetition, looping motifs, pulsing rhythms – were all present, but the Carducci Quartet brought far more than surface precision.  What emerged was a performance of real depth and intensity, with a strong sense of dramatic continuity.

The technical demands are considerable: intonation must be exact, and the physical stamina required is significant. Both were met with complete assurance. More importantly, the Quartet revealed the work’s psychological dimension – its tension, its stillness, its underlying unease. Nothing felt routine; everything was shaped with insight and purpose.

I have heard this work many times, but this performance stood head and shoulders above any I have encountered.

Review by Steve Crowther

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REVIEW: Steve Crowther’s verdict on Yorkshire Bach Choir, St John Passion, Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall, University of York, March 21

James Gilchrist: tenor Evangelist in Yorkshire Bach Choir’s St John Passion

CONDUCTOR Peter Seymour opted for a slower tempo in the opening chorus “Herr, unser Herrscher”. 

While this had obvious merit – polyphonic transparency, clearly layered choral entries, crisp articulation of the text, and finely judged orchestral detail – it lost dramatic intent: the relentless drive and sense of agitation that a quicker tempo – think John Eliot Gardiner – can bring.

It is, of course, a trade-off: solemnity versus torment. And then something quite remarkable happened: James Gilchrist.

His tenor Evangelist proved the dramatic engine of the Passion. From the opening recitative, “Jesus ging mit seinen Jüngern,” he established the narrative with urgency and clarity. Particularly effective were the razor-sharp exchanges with the chorus, as the crowd – here the soldiers – interject in “Jesum von Nazareth!”

One of the most powerful Evangelist moments in Part I is the recitative “Da verleugnete Petrus abermal” – Peter’s denial – a secco recitative for tenor with continuo accompaniment. The rising tension was palpable.

This is followed by the cock crow, conveyed through the text, and then the shock of silence. What ensued was a remarkable depiction of Peter’s emotional collapse in “Und ging hinaus und weinete bitterlich”, again with no string or wind support.

A standout passage of Part II was Gilchrist’s delivery of “Und neigte das Haupt und verschied”. This is the climactic narrative moment of the Passion: after all the drama – indeed, all the operatic intensity – it is over. The music stops.

Gilchrist also shaped the work’s pivotal theatrical moments with real authority: the mob’s blunt rejection in “Nicht diesen, sondern Barrabam!”; the biting, almost grotesque sarcasm of “Sei gegrüßet, lieber Jüdenkönig!”; and, most strikingly, the escalating hysteria of “Kreuzige! Kreuzige!”. In each case, his framing of these interruptions ensured the narrative never lost momentum.

The voice of the choir in the chorales throughout is that of communal reflection: the exact opposite of mob rule. Personally, I felt the tempi were a touch brisk; I missed a sense of real stillness. That said, they were confidently performed.  The final chorus, “Ruht wohl, ihr heiligen Gebeine”, with its warm, reassuring harmonies and gently rocking, lullaby-like rhythm, was very moving.

Yorkshire Bach Choir performing St John Passion at Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall

The success of the performance depends on the contrast between the Evangelist’s narrative urgency and Christus’s centred stillness, each role demanding not only  vocal control but also a finely judged sense of dramatic purpose.

Frederick Long proved an excellent Christus. His performance radiated authority, poise and inner calm. It was refreshing to hear such clarity of pitch in the lower bass register, rather than the all-too-common woolliness.

I found Long’s “Mein Reich ist nicht von dieser Welt” genuinely moving: surrounded by accusation and political tension, his quiet conviction, supported by the halo of strings, created a moment of true stillness and otherworldliness.

The other soloists all acquitted themselves admirably. Tenor Jason Darnell gave a fine account of the demanding “Ach, mein Sinn”, capturing its agitation and urgency. Darnell coped well with the quick, restless rhythms, generating a real sense of unease.

Alto Louise Dobson gave a compelling “Es ist Vollbracht”, beautifully supported by Richard Boothby on viol da gamba, whose intimate, haunting tone was ideally suited to the aria.

Both sopranos, Bethany Seymour and Wendy Goodson,delivered fine performances; Ms Seymour’s “Ich folge dir gleichfalls,” with flute and continuo, offered a moment of light, graceful contrast.

Perhaps most enjoyable of all was Caroline Sartin-Smith’s “Von den Stricken meiner Sünden”. Her rich alto voice suited the aria well, although the two oboes – beautifully played – occasionally compromised the balance.

The orchestra – from Lucy Russell and Agata Darashkaite on violins to Ben Horden on organ – was first-rate. There were moments when the balance did not favour the upper strings, but these are the forces Bach himself conceived, so perhaps best left there.

It was good to see Peter Seymour again, directing from the harpsichord with authority and assurance.

And it was good, too, to see a full house.

Review by Steve Crowther

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REVIEW: Steve Crowther’s verdict on The Kleio Quartet, BMS York, Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall, University of York, February 6

The Kleio Quartet. Picture: Sophie Williams

THE Kleio Quartet  – Juliette Roos, Katherine Yoon (violins), Yume Fujise (viola) and Eliza Millett (cello) – opened opened the programme with an impressive account of Elgar’s String Quartet in E minor, Op. 83.

How this young group of players managed to embrace the emotional depth of this remarkable work was beyond me, but they did.

Although the Quartet was written in 1918, the final year of the First World War, it does not emerge as a wartime statement. It instead signals the collapse of the Edwardian world and Elgar’s withdrawal from public life.

Gone is the public voice of the Enigma Variations and the symphonies; Elgar retreats instead to the private, intimate world of chamber music. The Quartet is therefore shaped by introspection, cultural rupture and disillusionment.

This was most evident in the Kleio’s performance of the central Piacevole (poco andante): the emotional core of the work. The opening cantabile melody – played by the first violin – unfolded in a tender, sustained line, aided by minimal vibrato and superbly natural phrasing.

The lines were passed between the instruments with great sensitivity. The viola’s tone added a warm glow to the texture, suggesting nostalgia. There was noticeable role reversal with the second violin, which generally played a supporting role to the first, while the cello provided vital support through its countermelodies. The balance was impeccable.

If the opening Allegro moderato can be labelled dramatic, it is surely through the restrained tension beneath the surface. Again, the Quartet’s interpretation and judgement were admirably on display.

The thematic material is shared across all four instruments, and the balance and clarity of the inner voices – particularly the second violin and viola – were vital in maintaining the movement’s flow. The phrasing and dynamics were beautifully judged.

The closing Allegro molto was driven by a restless energy. The rhythmic playing was invariably precise, and the contrasting lyrical passages that emerged from the ensemble texture – with excellent contributions from viola and cello – carried that glance-over-the-shoulder, reflective quality. The end of the movement avoided any sense of triumph or resolution, but was satisfying nonetheless.

Beethoven’s String Quartet in D major, Op. 18 No. 3 came as a breath of fresh air. The opening Allegro was deceptively relaxed: the witty conversational interplay and the speed at which themes were passed around were a hoot. The rhythmic energy was light rather than driven, and the elegance of the playing made for an impressive opening.

Their playing in the Andante con moto had emotional warmth and lovely poise, while conveying a subtle tension beneath the calm surface. The third movement Allegro came across as a robust minuet, but one with both bite and humour. Sharp accents and crisp articulation added to the character, giving the dance a distinct rhythmic edge.

The closing Presto shone with sparkle and wit. The light articulation and clarity in the fast passagework were thrilling. Great fun too.

The interval usually gives me time to clear my head before the second half. This time, however, my companion pointed out that the Beethoven quartet opens with the same minor seventh as There’s A Place For Us from West Side Story. From that moment on, Bernstein refused to leave my head – a damned good tune, admittedly.

I have always found Mendelssohn’s String Quartet in E flat major, Op. 44 No. 3 to be texture-driven rather than theme-driven, with much of its character emerging from the interaction of inner voices rather than overt melodic statements.

It was a relief to hear a performance in which the texture was kept both clear and buoyant. This was evident from the opening Allegro vivace, where the movement’s brilliance lay in the quick exchanges between the instruments. Not for the first time, the viola and second violin ensured a strongly conversational quality.

The light, almost weightless playing in the second movement, Scherzo: Assai leggiero vivace, had a delightful, wispy, magical character, while the turbo-charged energy of the closing Molto allegro con fuoco – cleanly articulated and crackling with kinetic energy – nearly sent an instinctively animated first violin, Juliette Roos, into orbit.

For me, the movement that lingered most was the Adagio non troppo, the still point of the quartet. The long cantabile lines shared across the ensemble, shaped with warmth but without indulgence, and the intimacy of the phrasing made the performance genuinely affecting.

Review by Steve Crowther

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REVIEW: Martin Dreyer’s verdict on Angela Hewitt, Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall, University of York, February 4

Angela Hewitt: Focus entirely on Bach

WHEN you walk out of a concert feeling that it may have been the musical event of the year and it is still only early February, you have certainly experienced something special.

In the case of pianist Angela Hewitt, it was extraordinary. Not that we should be surprised by now. This was at least her fourth visit to York in the past ten years: she must like it here.

Her focus was entirely on Bach. She played all but one of six works from memory. The exception was the huge Prelude & Fugue in A minor, BWV 894 (not one of the ‘48’), where her tablet could not be more than an aide-memoire, given the rapid tempos both halves demand. She kept it until last, yet after a whole evening her intensity was as strong as ever.

In the fugue, her relaxation was so engrossing that it was as if she were unveiling a brand-new narrative, despite its complexities.

It was about 20 seconds into the opening Toccata in D major, BWV 912, that she had the packed audience in the palm of her hand. While its moods were distinctive, there was also a sense of excitement building throughout: the final gigue, which happens also to be a fugue, was intoxicating for its sheer enthusiasm. As with so much of the evening, she used her sustaining pedal sparingly: clarity was the watchword.

By now her palpable enjoyment had become infectious. In the Fifth French Suite, in G major, there was an elegiac transparency to the Sarabande and a gentle lilt to the majestic Loure, both standing in contrast to the commanding virtuosity elsewhere and testimony to Hewitt’s feeling for the romantic side of Bach, an aspect too widely ignored. The taxing gigue, needless to say, was at once colourful and percussive.

The Chromatic Fantasia and Fugue, in D minor, was an ear-opener, the first part dazzling in its harmonic daring, right at the limits for the composer’s time, the second incredibly crisp, with subtle weighting of the various voices.

That clarity was maintained in the Fifth Partita (a suite in all but name), despite the cracking pace at the start. There were supple dabs of rubato along the way, before a finale of mesmerising brilliance.

In the Italian Concerto, published in 1735 and the latest work in this programme, we could feel Bach letting his hair down: the sun sparkling on the Mediterranean in the exhilarating opening, the flowing song of the Andante with teasing ornamentation, and the balletic momentum of the final Presto, this was Italy in a nutshell. Jesu, Joy Of Man’s Desiring made a deeply touching encore.

Angela Hewitt has once again confirmed her already legendary status as a player of Bach. We must hope that she will continue to make frequent returns to York.

Review by Martin Dreyer

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Allie Long returns to York to take up post of theatre director at Grand Opera House

Grand Opera House theatre director Allie Long

ALLIE Long is the new theatre director at the Grand Opera House on her return to the York theatre.

Allie joined ATG Entertainment in 2017 while studying at the University of York, starting in the front-of-house department before progressing through marketing, operational and management roles across the UK.

She completed ATG’s venue management graduate scheme, with placements in London, Glasgow and Stockton-on-Tees, before returning to the Grand Opera House in 2022 as theatre manager.

This was a pivotal year for the Cumberland Street venue that saw capital investment into the building, a venue re-brand and a re-launch that enabled a new trajectory to bring the best of the West End into York, such as Six The Musical, Dear Evan Hanson, Pretty Woman The Musical and Heathers The Musical.

After a year as theatre director at Richmond Theatre, Surrey, Allie took a year of maternity leave when she and husband Joe had a baby boy in 2025.

Now she has returned home to York to take over the leadership in a year when the Grand Opera House will next present Here & Now – The Steps Musical, Lee Mead in Barnum, The Circus Musical, Jodie Comer in a sold-out February 17 to 21 run of Prima Facie and Agatha Christie’s Death On The Nile.

Returning to where her career in live entertainment began, Allie is looking forward to leading one of North Yorkshire’s most cherished theatres. “A theatre like the Grand Opera House is more than a venue,” she said. “It’s a place where careers, like mine, can begin, local talent have a stage to showcase themselves, and stories and theatre craft are shared live on stage.

“I’m proud to champion career pathways in the creative industries here in York and to share a programme that has something for everyone.”

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REVIEW: Steve Crowther’s verdict on Sean Shibe, BMS York, Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall, University of York, 9/1/2026

Scottish lutenist and guitar player Sean Shibe. Picture: Iga Gozdowska

THIS concert for the British Music Society of York opened with a request: none of the usual “Please switch off your mobile phones, emergency exits this way”  stuff, but a call-out for a USB connector.

This set a tone of the unexpected, of unpredictability, and the concert was all the more refreshing for it.

Sean Shibe opened with a selection of lute pieces from the Rowallan and Straloch Manuscripts. The playing not only showcased his technical brilliance – each note plucked with surgical precision – but also the exquisite, expressive depth. I was drawn into a world which embraced a hypnotic, timeless quality.

I have never heard any of the music by Pierre Attaingnant, but it seemed to me that Sean Shibe approached the early 16th century-transcribed set of dances for solo lute, not as museum pieces but as vibrant living music. His tone was intimate and lucid, the ornamentation discreet yet expressive.

That said, I much preferred the following three unannounced Renaissance lute pieces by John Dowland: Prelude, Queen Elizabeth’s Galliard and Frog Galliard. They formed a delightfully compelling triptych, displaying the full expressive range of Dowland’s lute writing.

I loved the poise and courtly brilliance of Shibe’s Queen Elizabeth’s Galliard and the buoyant rhythm and sharply etched phrasing of its companion, Frog Galliard.

Having been forewarned that the first half was going to be short and the second half a ‘leg-crosser’ – my companion’s observation, not mine – we dutifully headed off to the proverbial refreshment rooms.

Not surprisingly, we were somewhat surprised to see the performer immediately returning with his guitar. Leaving our dignity at the auditorium exit, we quickly resumed our seats as if nothing had happened. And I’m pleased we did, as we were treated to a sublime performance of Bach’s Suite No. 1 in G major for cello, arranged, presumably by Sean Shibe, for solo guitar.

Shibe’s crystal-clear articulation of the weaving contrapuntal lines was not only technically remarkable but went way beyond virtuosity into a world of rediscovery, of genuine musical insight.

The second half should have opened with Sofia Gubaidulina’s short, three-minute solo guitar piece, Serenade (1960), only it didn’t. Instead, it was one of Harrison Birtwistle’s short guitar miniatures called Sleep Song.

Rather than the usual full-force, raw Birtwistle, the piece – as the title suggests – was quiet, introspective, and gently evocative.

The Gubaidulina was interesting in that it was quite traditional, even tonal. I also thought I detected a Spanish influence. Like the Birtwistle, it explored subtle timbres and mood. The performances were beautifully nuanced.

I was as delighted as I was surprised to see Frank Martin’s admirable Quatre pieces brèves for solo guitar – written for the great Spanish guitarist, Andrés Segovia, but premiered by (the even greater) Julian Bream – replaced by James Dillon’s Twelve Caprices for solo guitar.

Not surprisingly, these were characterised by extreme virtuosity: rapid changes from bass and treble (Caprice I); fast passagework (Caprice II); dynamic voice differences (III); crazy-fast stopped notes and harmonics (IV); left-hand extremes (VI); violent attacks (VII), through to a kind of recapitulation in the closing Caprice XII.

The musical as well as the technical demands on the performer are beyond anything I have heard for a solo guitarist, and the performance by Sean Shibe was unbelievably impressive.

For what it’s worth, it reminded me of a highly distilled version of the composer’s utterly magnificent Book of Elements – for solo piano. The problem for me was, unlike the Book of Elements, I really didn’t enjoy the ride; I just hung on for dear life: utterly exhilarating.

Sean Shibe closed the recital with Thomas Adès’ Forgotten Dances. Like the Dillon, the demands on the performer are considerable. Take the opening movement, Overture – Queen of Spiders, for example.

The fast alternation between the bright, metallic, glassy passages played very close to the bridge and the darker, chocolatey passages played very close to the fingerboard; the fast harp-like delicacy in the upper register and the jaw-dropping left-hand agility were delivered with a focus on musicality rather than display.

Was there any tone painting here? Not sure, but there was a brittle, skittering quality and a delightful winding-down of activity signalling closure rather than cadence. By contrast, in the sustained, quiet sonorities of Berceuse – Paradise of Thebes, Shibe conjured a timeless, haunting quality.

His playing in Here Was A Swift was brimming with a volatile, darting vitality. Were there echoes of Satie in Barcarolle – The Maiden Voyage? Absence of goal-orientated repetition, maybe? But the rocking motion suggests unease rather than Satie’s ironic calling card. Not sure.

Carillon de Ville came across as the most grounded, with Shibe marking a ritualistic 4/4 (to my ears) march, but one with nowhere to go. The suite closed with a homage to Purcell, Vesper – a movement signalling restraint, a quiet closing of the cycle rather than resolution. It was beautifully played.

I thought the performance of Forgotten Dances was inspired, and I left the recital believing that Forgotten Dances was the real deal: a masterpiece.

And there we have it: a one-off, truly remarkable programme and performance – a   worthy tribute to Andrew Carter, president of BMS York, who died earlier this month.

Review by Steve Crowther

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REVIEW: Martin Dreyer’s verdict on University Symphony Orchestra, Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall, University of York, November 22

University Symphony Orchestra conductor John Stringer

WE are apt to forget that York has three full-size symphony orchestras: York Guildhall Orchestra and York Symphony Orchestra, of course, but also the university’s own orchestra, culled from throughout the campus. All are worthy of our attention.

The University Symphony Orchestra (USO) reminded us of its quality with this appearance under its regular conductor John Stringer.

It involved four northern European composers: Denmark’s Poul Ruders, Estonia’s Arvo Pärt and Finland’s Sibelius, before dipping southwards for Belgium’s Franck.

The Ruders was a UK premiere, despite being written as long ago as 1994: The Return Of The Light, music to accompany a ten-minute film on the Christmas gospel. It began with amorphous dissonance, until a drumbeat emerged and high strings evoked a chilly night.

Figments of a chorale floated into view and for the first time the announced sampled sounds on tape began to clarify, delivering watery sounds. Finally, woodwinds launched into a return of the chorale. One suspects this work is more successful as soundtrack than as a concert piece.

Pärt’s Greater Antiphons for strings is equally seasonal, based on the church’s Advent antiphons, or ‘O antiphons’ as they are known (since each of the seven – preludes to the Magnificat – opens with the exclamation ‘O’). They are brief but distinctive, if similar in general atmosphere to the Ruders.

After a gently rocking ‘O Adonai’, there was a bolder line in ‘O Root Of Jesse’ and some urgency in ‘O Key Of David’. ‘O Emmanuel’ was well worked, its major-chord lullaby becoming a fanfare before fading out.

Uncertain horns fuzzied the start of the Intermezzo in Sibelius’s Karelia Suite, although it firmed up when the string tremolos appeared. The Ballade was distinguished by fine string tutti and a sturdy cor anglais solo. The blending of the march’s two themes made a resplendent finish.

The lingering lethargy at the start of Franck’s Symphony in D minor was immediately dispelled by a vivid Allegro. Here was plenty of evidence, if any were needed, of what a fine body of violins the university boasts at the moment, always persuasive. They would also have been more shapely had contrasts been more marked, since in this relatively small hall everything tends to sound loud unless rigorously controlled.

Franck himself characterised the second half of the Allegretto as a scherzo, which makes the movement almost a scherzo and trio, but in reverse. The melancholy chromaticism of the opening was affecting but it was the violins’ pianissimo in the alleged scherzo that was absolutely magical.

The main theme in the finale needed more bite from the cellos who were a touch lightweight all evening. Not so the reply in the brass, who were in the forefront as the themes from earlier movements were recollected, resulting in an enormous climax as we reached a triumphant D major.

Review by Martin Dreyer

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REVIEW: Martin Dreyer’s verdict on Octandre Ensemble, Of Frogs and Fish, Shadows and Schubert, Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall, University of York, 26/11/2025

Octandre Ensemble

OCTANDRE is a piano quintet, with a double bass replacing the second violin. Think, in other words, of the instrumentation in Schubert’s ‘Trout’ quintet – which ended the programme here.

Before it, we heard works by Nicola LeFanu, her late husband David Lumsdaine and Christian Mason, who happens to be a co-artistic director of Octandre.

But before a note had been played, we were treated to an excerpt from Lumsdaine’s Soundscape 4: Butcher Birds Of Spirey Creek, a dawn chorus recorded in the Warrumbungles, a mountain range in his native New South Wales. Without risking a description, we can say that this remarkable bird has tonal instincts.

Next up was Mason’s Shadowy Fish (2020), which he subtitles ‘Hommage à Schubert’, although its title originates in a Pablo Neruda poem. In three sections, with the outer two labelled “mysterious” amongst other epithets, it is clearly a very personal reaction to the poetry of Schubert’s setting (actually by Christian Schubart), but without obvious relevance to the composer himself.

A viola interlude interrupts the angular motifs that jostle for attention at the start, and there is a viola solo near the close, which may mean that the instrument represents the trout. The plaintive slitherings in the middle – “slow, with a heavy heart” – against sforzando chords in the piano, might have been the fisherman’s moment of truth and the spaced high chords at the close offered the possibility of lament. But one struggled to detect much in the way of water, a mystery indeed.

Much more decisive because more vivid was LeFanu’s briefer Night Song With Frogs, originally a cimbalom solo, dating from 2004. With the strings now accompanied by harpsichord, the original score formed the basis of an improvisation, accompanied by an edited Lumsdaine tape of frogs on the Darling River.

Paradoxically, this sounded quite structured, with the strings flitting like insects around the frogs: motifs like little jigs, sometimes pizzicato, sometimes rapidly bowed, intrigued the ear and came close to blending with the tape, even elaborating upon it.

Lumsdaine’s solo cello piece Blue Upon Blue (1991) continued the theme of dawn and dark, since its title comes from a Buddhist poem about distant hills under evening clouds. The work is almost a duet: against an unpretentious though lyrical melody there is accompaniment of pizzicato and glissandos.

These come into the foreground along with rapid tremolos as the melody fades. It made a tricky combination, but was deftly handled by Corentin Chassard.

It cannot have been easy for the players, switching from the contemporary to the classical in Schubert’s ‘Trout’ quintet. Perhaps for that reason, this was not a particularly Viennese account, but also partly because the pianist, Joseph Houston, dominated most of the textures, more or less rigidly adhering to his own view of the score. There was little sense that he was responding to his colleagues.

Most of the melodic lines in the piano, although competently drawn, were a touch more forceful than would have been ideal for balance.

That said, there were compensating joys. After an edgy scherzo, the trio, taken at a more leisurely pace, was pleasingly smooth. The ‘trout’ theme itself was played without vibrato, a cute move, and the variations upon it strongly varied. Overall, the work would have benefited from a more relaxed approach that reflected Schubert’s own light-heartedness.

Review by Martin Dreyer

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Loneliness of the Digital Age will be focus of multimedia exhibition at SPARK: York, Piccadilly, on November 29 and 30

Katya Shikhova’s artwork for Loneliness in the Digital Age

THE topic of Loneliness in the Digital Age will be highlighted in next weekend’s independent exhibition at SPARK: York, Piccadilly, York.

Directed by Katya Shikhova, this public multimedia arts exhibition project explores “connection and isolation in today’s chronically online world”. Admission will be free.

The exhibition on November 29 and 30 is organised by University of York students and recent graduates. Taking part alongside Katya will be Anna Wilkinson; Anzhelika Nikolaeva; Boaz Parnas; Charlotte Jones;  Fierce Fine Art; Harvey Ryan; Heather Jones (Fern and Heather Art); Lyra Robinson and Rohit Jayade.

“Our aim is to create a platform for artists, support York’s growing art community and ensure that proceeds from sales and donations go toward helping participating artists cover the costs of their practice, from transport to materials,” says creative director Katya, who is in the final year of her Business of the Creative Industries studies.

Anna Wilkinson’s artwork for Loneliness in the Digital Age

“I’m considering a career in art management, and together with my student friends, we’ve decided to organise this exhibition.”

Explaining the focus on Loneliness in the Digital Age, Katya says: “I’ve noticed that more and more people are raising concerns about communication in the contemporary world.

“With the increasing popularity of such TV shows as Adolescence (2025) and Severance (2022-2025), these concerns have become more visible. What is particularly interesting is that it seems not only older generations are concerned, but also people who grew up alongside rapid digital development.

Rohit Jayade’s artwork for Loneliness in the Digital Age

“More and more young people have begun noticing signs of depression, partially triggered by decreasing real-life communication and increasingly chronic online behaviour. Therefore, my team and I decided to reflect on this issue through the prism of contemporary art.”

Katya and her cohorts in the LitDA team created an open call for artists in the UK who wanted to engage with this topic, showcase and maybe sell their work and explore the themes of the exhibition together.

“We received around 40 submissions and selected ten works to be exhibited at SPARK Studios. Some of the selected works include photography, paintings, a digital painting and an abstract visualisation,” she says. Limited prints by exhibited artists and some who were not shortlisted will be on sale.

The poster for the Loneliness in the Digital Age exhibition

Don’t Dox Me, by Harvey Ryan

“I would like to highlight that submissions were free,” says Katya. “Artists will be financially supported, with each artist receiving an allowance for transportation and commuting costs, and the main source of funding for the exhibition is donations. We’re very keen on supporting the artists as much as we’re able to.”

Loneliness in the Digital Age will be on show on November 29, 1pm to 7pm, and November 30, 11am to 7pm. In addition, a limited-entry, invitation-only event for friends and family will be held at 7pm on November 29. “This will be a great chance to hear directly from the artists about their works and the theme of the exhibition,” says Katya. “The audience will have the opportunity to ask questions.”

 Birthday Boy, by Boaz Parnas

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Professor Peter Burman to be York Art Workers Association guest speaker on December 1 at Southlands Chapel

Professor Peter Burman seated by “Perspective Is The Temple Of Decision” in 2019

PROFESSOR Peter Burman, co-founder of York Art Workers Association (YAWA), will be the association’s guest speaker at December 1’s meeting at Southlands Chapel, 97 Bishopthorpe Road, York, at 7.30pm (doors 7pm).

Prof Burman, formerly of the University of York, is a long-standing member of the Artworkers’ Guild in London. On his move to York, he co-founded YAWA to bring together people working in the traditional craft skills in and around York.

He will reflect on his “life on the edge” between conservation and creativity. Soon after completing his studies in History of Art at Cambridge, he became assistant secretary to the Council for the Care of Churches, where he remained for 22 enjoyable years.

During that time he became an active member of the Art Workers’ Guild, and when he joined the University of York to lead the Centre for Conservation Studies at King’s Manor in 1990, he jointly founded the York Art Workers Association in 1994.

Meetings are held on the first Monday of each month to hear talks by a wide variety of renowned craftspeople from all over the country. Anyone who has an interest in art, crafts, buildings, their contents and surroundings, is welcome to join. Non-members are welcome to attend too.

Admission is £3 for members; £7 for non-members, with no need to book. Feel free just to turn up!

A copy of YAWA’s 2026 programme will be available at the meeting or can be obtained from www.yorkartworkers.org.uk.