THE director of the Edinburgh International Festival, Nicola Benedetti, is establishing a firm grip on her vision for attracting, educating, and retaining new audiences of all ages. Gone were the programmes, sold at a price, with learned essays, listings of orchestral players, and potted biographies of the main performers. That information was now to be found online. In terms of printed material, audiences were now simply provided with a free A5 multi-folded sheet, listing the pieces in the programme, but not including sung texts. These were projected in English above the performers. So, it was as case of “Win some: lose some.”
The theme of this year’s festival was “The Truth We Seek”, and change and truth are at the forefront of all performances; music, theatre, et al.
What a challenge this presented to the audience for the opening concert” John Taverner’s Veil of the Temple received its première in the Temple Church, London, in 2002. This performance was said to be only the second complete performance since then: a bit of a coup and an assertion of confidence and commitment.
Let’s start with the positives. The performance was superlative. The confidence, quality, and diction of the singing helped the texts to flow and to be easily understood. The soloists were almost exclusively members of the Monteverdi Choir, supported by the Edinburgh Festival Chorus and the National Youth Choir of Scotland (NYCOS). Most of the instrumentalists were drawn from the ranks of the Royal Scottish National Orchestra (RSNO).
Two people carried the vast structure of this work. They were the organist, David Goodenough, and Sofi Jeannin, the conductor. For almost the entire performance, the organ was restricted to its lowest registers: those big wooden pipes that sound like deep breaths.
Jeannin is perhaps best known as the conductor of the BBC Singers. With minimal gestures, she proved herself still in command of the massed vocal forces, able to cue the occasional “sticking-out” notes with unruffled deftness.
The overall performance was directed by Thomas Guthrie. He contrived for soloists to perform from locations in the stall, the balconies, and from a symbolic temple created by various split-level platforms in the stalls in the midst of an audience sitting on beanbags. Much use was made of ambient lighting.
The logistics of having the correct soloists, singers, and choirs in their correct and variable locations were seamless and flawless.
But not all aspects of the performance were positive. This is a difficult work for an audience to navigate and evaluate. It runs for eight hours, with, on this occasion, three ten-minute intervals.
The text is presented in eight cycles. One to seven are transitional, and, after the veil has been torn down, the eighth cycle is an affirmation with the inclusion of a brass band and timpani.
The work was written for a nocturnal performance. The seven cycles are a musical and visual transition from darkness to light. Somewhat perversely, this performance began at 14.30 in daylight and finished at 22.20 as daylight was fading.
Did I appreciate it? Yes. Did I enjoy it? No. I did yield to the repetition, but didn’t appreciate the subtle evolution of the musical forms. I was aware of, and appreciated, the success of the performance in all its complexities. The performance seemed to be being filmed and recorded. A film of the performance would be a fitting record of the outstanding efforts put into this artistic achievement.
It was an experience on which to ruminate, rather like a performance of Havergal Brian’s Gothic Symphony which I attended long, long ago in London.
FOLLOWING on from their fine contribution to the opening concert of the Edinburgh International Festival (EIF), the Monteverdi Choir had their own concert in the Usher Hall, conducted by Jonathan Sells. They were accompanied by the English Baroque Soloists in music by Purcell, J. S. Bach, J. C. Bach, and Handel.
Purcell music opened the concert: Hear my Prayer, O Lord, sung with a restrained elegance, followed by the third version of the Funeral Sentences for Queen Mary. It was at this early stage in this concert that it became obvious that the chosen repertoire was not suited to the hall in which it was being performed. Perhaps if the instruments had been spread across the full width of the stage and the choir was slightly more elevated a livelier sound could have been achieved. The acoustic of the hall did not enhance one’s appreciation of the music or the texts.
This was not a poorly performed concert, but the presentation and sound could have been much better.
Handel’s Dixit Dominus was performed after the interval. It, too, sounded somewhat lacklustre, with only the final “Gloria Patri et Filio” producing the vibrance that had hitherto eluded the conductor. The concert was billed as the “Best of Monteverdi Choir.” I doubt that that is what I heard.
THE following morning, I experienced a two-piano recital given by Pavel Kolesnikov and Samson Tsoy, with a performance in the first half of short pieces by György Kurtág and pieces of J. S. Bach arranged by Kurtág.
These two pianists play, with a sublime clarity and purity, as one, as if they were two halves of one person. Their sounds were conjured out of the pianos with a gentleness of touch or hard percussive strokes as required, reminding one that the piano can be made to sound lyrical and aggressive.
The Kurtág and Bach/Kurtág pieces gave opportunities for both. They often moved separately from one piano to the other with deep solemnity. One sensed that one was being guided in a spiritual meditation. It seemed as if I was hearing wordless singing in the final piece by Kurtág.
I was in fact hearing Kurtág’s “One more Voice from Far Away”. This involved the two pianists playing one piano, but only one of them was singing, and I had drifted away with them. They concluded with three Bach chorales, arranged by Kurtág. The pianists remain at one piano for these pieces, perhaps to synchronise the rhythms and colouration of the chorales.
After the interval, Olivier Messiaen was represented by one work, his Visions de l’Amen. This was completely different territory from the preceding pieces: longer lines and greater dynamism. Four hands and two pianos throughout. I have reviewed this piece in these pages before, but this time I perceived it very differently. It was a performance of two equal voices that really reacted and responded to each other.
The Amen de la création laid the foundation of the tone, volume, and spacial effects that one would encounter in the following Amens. A notable highlight was the Amen de l’agonie de Jésus, which was represented by repetitive outbursts of agony and consternation. Another was the Amen du jugement with stern rumble in the low notes with what seemed like a spiky narrative on top. Finally, there was the drama within Amen de la consommation. The climactic movement with its repetitive resonance and strident march gives way to a final filigree conclusion.
The whole recital was a tour de force of technique and empathy between the players and the pianos.
NEXT up was the resident orchestra of the National Centre for the Performing Arts (NCPA) from Beijing. The tour marks their 15th year, and this concert was their first concert in Europe. It was conducted by Myung-Whun Chung.
Bruce Liu was the soloist in Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G, and Hansjörg Albrecht was the soloist in Saint-Saëns’s Third Symphony, “Organ”. The concert opened with Wu Xing (Five Elements) by Qigang Chen. The representation of Water began with the sound of droplets that became splashes and ultimately the sound of large waves. Through the sections representing Wood, Fire, Earth, and Metal, the orchestration and volume were carefully projected into the hall by Chung’s careful balancing sections of Chen’s illustrative orchestration. This was a time to ponder the effects of mankind and climate change on our short-term future.
Liu’s pianism in Ravel’s concerto gave much for the audience to admire, instantly creating an engaging sense of relaxed fluency. Chung’s skill in accompanying the piano using the tone and alertness of the orchestra made for an open and fresh interpretation.
Saint-Saëns’s Third Symphony drew attention to a slight weakness within the orchestra. Many of the players have yet to develop a good depth of tone. Although they play well, the sound that they produce is rather silky. They could be more impressive if, especially, the mid and upper strings could be a bit more grounded: more like strong coffee and less like sweet tea.
Chung managed the changes of structure within the two movements, and Albrecht was adept in his choice of registrations and skilfully allowing the organ to make its presence felt without allowing it to roar over the orchestra.
This was an enjoyable concert with the prospect of a maturing engagement growing within the NCPA Orchestra.
UNDOUBTEDLY the hottest ticket in the first week of the EIF was for a play. That play was Make it Happen, world première. It was in some ways a morality play. It was about Fred Goodwin. It was about his greed and hubris: his ill-judged ambition.
Written by James Graham and directed by Andrew Panton, this was a collaboration between the National Theatre of Scotland, Dundee Rep Theatre, and the EIF. There was a great deal of interest in the play from ex-employees and former account-holders of the Royal Bank of Scotland. With so many interested parties, it is hardly surprising that tickets became a scarce commodity.
The play was described as a fictionalised satire about inviting Goodwin, “Fred the Shred”, to the RBS so that he could make cost-cutting efficiencies, as he had done previously for another employer.
Marc BrennerThe cast of Make It Happen
The plot moves quickly with a rapid changeover of scenes, some that share DNA with The Thick of It, some angst-ridden, but stopping short of soul-searching. Others were funny. The magic ingredient was Brian Cox cast as Adam Smith, the father of capitalism, who beguiled and teased Fred. Cox turned in a great performance, he could be stern, astonished, and at times whimsical.
Sandy Grierson was cast as Goodwin, who in no time was cutting costs, thus providing himself with plenty of money to use for the acquisition of his banking competitors. His trimming of costs also enabled him to buy and build new assets. He decided to relocate the RBS headquarters from its city-centre Georgian mansion to a new-build campus on the outskirts of Edinburgh on the site of the former Gogarburn Hospital. His characterisation of Goodwin delivered snideness, bluntness, and a disregard for anyone who was not him, or useful to him.
The performance was peppered with short appearances by distinguished folk. Gordon Brown is a good example. While in the middle of a rant about RBS, he is frantically called back to a meeting, at which he is developing the blueprint that will save the the global economy from meltdown. Another is a minor shareholder in RBS, who has brief appearances at the beginning and towards the end of the play. She hopes that she can assert some authority over Goodwin. He, in effect, is unaware of her, or her indignation.
It is suggested that Goodwin was born in an area of Paisley called Ferguslie Park, an area in which one could not access credit in the 1970s. He moved the headquarters of RBS to the site of a former mental hospital. He rose to be in charge of the largest bank in the world and yet again was unable to access credit. Anyone who has the opportunity to see this play, live or streamed, should seize the opportunity.
THE Wrocław Baroque Ensemble managed to squeeze themselves on to the platform of the Queen’s Hall. Their concert was part of the EIF’s focus on Poland. Their conductor is Andrzej Kosendiak. They were very well prepared vocally and instrumentally. They gave a seemingly flawless performance with much moving around of singers and instrumentalists, thus creating a vivid and lively effect.
Part one of the concert was a performance of Mikołaj Zielenski’s Offertoria et communiones totius anni (1611). The work consisted of 15 sections, two of which were purely instrumental. The instrumental aspect of the performance was beautifully balanced, and both the chamber organ and harpsichord were distinctly audible throughout. I particularly enjoyed two sections, In monte Oliveti, a motet, and Salve festa dies, a motet for Easter.
Part two of the concert consisted of Żebrowski’s Vesperae Beatae in visitatione Marie Virginis. The music here was more florid and richly orchestrated, including two trumpets. The closing sections, Deposuit potentes and Gloria Patri were just what was needed to launch the audience out into a hot and sunny afternoon.
I was rested before the evening concert in the Usher Hall. It was a sumptuous and spectacular performance of Puccini’s one-act opera Suor Angelica. The performance was given by the London Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Antonio Pappano and ably supported by the EIF Chorus and the Royal Scottish National Orchestra Youth Chorus. In addition, there was a starry cast of female soloists.
Yet again, I was faced with a stage packed to the gunnels. The soloists who sang from in front of the orchestra had only a thin strip of the stage from which to stand and deliver their texts. The texts were, in turn, discipline for wrongdoings, convent admin, domestic duties, and a wee bit of in-house gossip. I have space to comment on only three of the soloists, the Abbess, Sister Angelica, and the Princess.
The Abbess was sung with lightly laid-down solemnity by Monika-Evelin Liiv. Appropriately, she wore a black dress. She looked and sounded appropriate. She was a dignified presence. Suor Angelica was sung by Carolina López Moreno. She acted well and sounded convincing. The performance was well paced, and Pappano has instilled the LSO’s playing with fresh discipline and depth of tone. It has returned to being a world-class orchestra and being truly responsive to Pappano’s direction.
Both choruses sang apparently effortlessly and rose to the challenges of the finale.
The princess was an imposing presence dressed in bright green. She progressed from being detached and businesslike in giving Angelica the news that she had been written out of the family will to being somewhat menacing in announcing that Angelica’s son has died while she has been in the convent. The sense of grief was palpable on the stage and flooded out into the hall. A great performance.