Selected Reviews

Clara Rodriguez at St John's Smith Square

For the purposes of an appreciation of the performances by this favourite artist, a close, personal friend and colleague, I shall abandon the term 'Virtuoso' and the equally nebulous adjectival derivative 'Virtuosic' - a patented invention by BBC Radio 3. Performers of all descriptions must now be heartedly fed up being labeled by such inept and unimaginative label tags that provide no musical clues to their skills as interpreters of the chosen works which provide enjoyment to their audiences.

Clara's multi-talented achievements of course extend to her illustrious predecessors, like Teresa Carreno (Nimbus NI 6103) that audacious, worshipped lioness of the keyboard who was highly revered by Franz Liszt, so it is not surprising that the lady in question became the subject of a very popular reappraisal- with live text as well as musical highlights - up and down the country. Liszt's Mephisto Waltz No.1 formed the centerpiece of her programme on Ocober 3rd at St John's, Smith Square, while the Rodriguez recorded repertory is now enjoying repeated praises on Nimbus Alliance.

Indeed, her many appearances at London locations like Wigmore Hall, St. Johns, Smith Square, the South Bank and the Barbican know exactly what to expect from the lovely lady in her vivacious evening dress, and memories of Geoffrey Crankshaw, late of this magazine, excitedly holding on to his critic's seat for dear life at her appearances on stage have become embedded in my memory bank. I wish other London critics showed similar responses. Another welcome and frequent visitor up to her final days was the distinguished teacher Phyllis Sellick, never at a loss in praise of her pupil.

The programme began with six Sonatas by Domenico Scarlatti. The selection - E minor L62, F minor, L281, C major, L457, D minor, L366, F minor, L187 and D major, L14 - thankfully included none of the individual expertise of either Horowitz or Pletnev, but evoked a crisp response of the Italian Master's many-sided quips and subtleties and a beauty of line and expression that caught the church responses of this famous location. The first of the pieces - five in all - by Venezulean composers was Retrato Solemnisimo del Aldemaro Romero by Juan Carlos Nunez (b1949), a poignant appreciation which provided a perfect follow-on. Then came the Liszt, complete with score and page turner. The pace and style in the introduction was admirable, with devilish three-finger turns of phrase denoting the demonic style of writing. The chosen steadiness matched the bravura, but as in a previous Purcell Room performance, the lightning changes of key showed some uncertainties, mostly in the left-hand. Vivid imagination and sheer persistence corrected the deficiency and one sat back and revelled in the radiant exploration of the development, apotheosis and tenderness just prior to the close.

It is a well-tried formula of capitalizing on one's countrymen's music while including music from elsewhere in Part 2. Moises Moleiro (1904-79 - see Nimbus Alliance NI 6104 for a fuller representation) - Estampas del Ilano (Pictures of the Plains) can be likened to children and grownup's love and simplicity in their play and celebratory dancing followed by the customary siesta. Rachmaninoff's Prelude in G major Op.32 (a Moura Lympany encore item) was followed by a selection from Opus 23: nos 7 in C minor, 6 in E flat major, 5 in G minor, 4 in D major and 2 in B flat major. The only problem occurred in the G minor where the strain of octave leaps and key changes resulted in some missing notes and untidiness. Only Lilya Zilberstein and Grigory Sokoloff of recent date do justice to this tricky piece, full of pitfalls. The 'Grand Final' belonged to three compatriots: Maria Luisa Escabar (1912-85) Noche de luna Altamira - vals-nocturno, Pablo Camacaro (b.1947) Diversion - ritmo orquidea (UK premiere) and Heraclio Fernandez (1851-86) El Diablo suelto - The devil is on the loose - vals joropo. Clara Rodriguez, after all can play this music standing on her head! Tremendously enjoyable!

Bill Newman

John McCabe's 70th Birthday Concert

John McCabe is one of this country's leading composers so his 70th birthday should be a time for great celebration for the huge body of work he has given us. This intimate concert, given at the Cadogan Hall, was most welcome, for it showed us several sides to this multifaceted man.

Starting with McCabe himself playing Haydn's Variations in F Minor, and showing the poetry, and almost Schubertian tragedy, in much of the writing, he was subsequently joined by the Sacconi Quartet for a performance of his own The Women by the Sea - a thorny piece, which doesn't give away its secrets easily. Based on an episode from Kenji Mizoguchi's film Sansho Dayu, this was music of longing, sorrow and passion. It was an uncomfortable listen for so dense is its construction; much is made from very little material, but what material there is is essential. This work needs further hearings for us to fully understand the musical argument. This was a fine performance and the Sacconis followed it with a radiant performance of Haydn's Quartet in D, op.76/5.What impressed here was that for such a young Quartet - formed as recently as 2001 - the players fully understand the great man's work and what he was after. Watch them.

After the interval it was almost all McCabe with the King's Singers giving a handful of Elizabethan works separating three by our birthday boy. Cartography is a light piece, held together by a Latin refrain. It started life as a Proms commission but at that time McCabe only set three of Jo Shapcott's poems. Four years later he completed the piece and it makes more sense now that we can hear the whole work. Like the Scenes in America Deserta it's a multi movement work and each section is clearly defined but it's a straightforward piece, whereas Scenes is another of McCabe tough nuts. Utilising not just the usual vocal sounds, and also noises derived from them, but no extended techniques, McCabe takes us on a journey round America, visiting various places, arid desert, frescoes whose subject is water, and courtyards with shadows and trees, as well as going on an hilarious cycle ride. This is splendid stuff indeed and it's full of the kind of thing we've come to expect from this composer - brilliant and incisive writing, the juxtaposition of seeming disparate ideas and the working of them all together seemingly effortlessly. In the middle of all this came a première; The Lily-White Rose, a setting of anonymous words, made with utter simplicity and a most touching moment. The King's Singers repeated it as an encore.

Whilst we didn't have a Symphony - those will come later - we were privileged to hear some of the finest writing for voice from the past 30 years or so, not to mention a major work for piano quintet. And what's more, we can expect further works from this wonderful composer's pen soon. Why should we have to wait for such an anniversary to celebrate a man whose work should be celebrated all the time?!

Bob Briggs

Brahms: The Four Symphonies

Berliner Philharmoniker/Sir Simon Rattle
****EMI 2 67254 2

There's no doubting the beautiful playing of Berliner Philharmoniker or that Simon Rattle unfolds the opening of Symphony No. 1 with a view to its tragedy and the eventual need for light to triumph over darkness. There are more explicit, less consciously moulded or sounded performances of Brahms 1 available, but Rattle certainly has the measure of the music's emotional import; his is a Romantic view of Brahms's expression, yet he avoids exaggeration and mannerism. This is a cogent and expressive account, if one with few if any revelations, yet with the deep satisfaction of listening to a very familiar masterwork performed so wonderfully well. Yet it begs the question as to whether we should expect something revelatory from the latest version of much-recorded music, especially when it is from such high-profile performers. Conversely, that would be to put a burden on interpreters consciously to seek-out a new angle for the sake of it and then be accused of novelty for no good reason. Rattle, to his credit, conducts Brahms's long-gestated symphony with power, subtlety and innate flexibility, which the recorded sound conveys with clarity and naturalness and with a wide dynamic range (enough for some of the pizzicatos at the beginning of the finale to be near-inaudible if 'just' ear-catching).

Rattle omits the exposition repeat in the first movement of the C minor Symphony, a wise move, for the exposition's return can seem half-hearted and a dissipater of tension (Boult's also-EMI version is a notable exception in this regard, and a magnificent performance overall), and it is therefore best to continue into the stormy development. Such stability also informs the finale, a well-controlled traversal that ratchets-up organically into the liberating coda, which Rattle commendably takes at a single tempo (thankfully there is no grotesque slowing for the return of the 'motto', nor any tub-thumping when it does; much as I love their conducting, Barbirolli and Bernstein, both with the Vienna Philharmonic, go ludicrously over-the-top at this point).

If the C minor receives a satisfying performance (if no more than that), the Fourth is decidedly impressive, quite leisurely yet taut in the first movement, tragically emotional and wholly engrossing, the Berliners inspired. Maybe he has been asked, and his answer is in print somewhere, but I wouldn't mind betting that Brahms 4 is Rattle's favourite among these symphonies. 'Favourite' is the wrong word, of course, for the music is profound, as is our response to it, but he does conduct it in a way that suggests that this music is very special to him, every note moulded expressively (nowhere more so than in the second movement) yet without giving the impression of micro-managing it from an objective standpoint. The Scherzo has weight and truculence, a burst of exuberance, and is also a false trail for the finale's opening pages are solemnly intoned, the bulk of the movement monumentally traversed, so that when a 'normal' tempo is resumed it is with something of a jolt; nevertheless this emotionally undisguised performance is engrossing (with much beguiling woodwind detailing along the way).

Of the middle symphonies I am less sure, and let me make this clear, EMI offers us just the symphonies; neither the overtures nor the Haydn/St Anthony Variations are included. Symphonies 2 and 3 are coupled together, the former is rather frisky in the first movement (and I do miss the exposition repeat here), not quite settled, or maybe Rattle is consciously suggesting a more volatile work than is customary for a work that had the 'pastoral' epithet settled upon it many moons ago. Sometimes restless as if put-upon, the first movement undoubtedly opens-up its own thrall, but the arguably-too-spacious account from Christoph von Dohnányi (Philharmonia Orchestra/Signum Classics) has a greater sense of shape that seems altogether more edifying (if comfortable). From Rattle, contrasts also abound in the slow movement (calm and upsurge, but no lack of eloquence). The intermezzo-like third movement is pleasing in its gait, and the finale unforced in its bravura, although some changes of dynamics are somewhat manicured.

In its opening, the Third Symphony lacks rough-hewn grandeur - here the homogeneous timbres of Berliner Philharmoniker varnish the music in too smooth a manner - although greater intensity is apparent come the repeat of the exposition; yet, second time through the exposition, Rattle makes an impulsive lurch into the development that is unconvincing. I suppose one could cite here something Furtwänglerian, but without his inner resource. The remaining movements are a little creamy-rich in sound, very beautiful often, nowhere more so than in the Poco allegretto third movement, lovingly shaped (and I am not likely to forget how Lorin Maazel performed this music with the Philharmonia Orchestra on 28 June 2008 in the Royal Festival Hall, London, when he turned it into a precursor of the Adagietto of Mahler 5, and that is not necessarily a criticism). With a finale that has a bit more grit and ardour to it, this is Rattle's most successful movement of the Third Symphony.

So, performed during October and November last year in the Philharmonie, this set of Brahms's symphonies is hardly 'a new milestone in the history of Brahms recordings' as EMI claims; what this issue represents though is dedicated performances of traditional values, the Berliner Philharmoniker given its lustrous head, Rattle often following the familiar interpretative furrow of his predecessors (Furtwängler and Karajan came to mind at various points, but not the same ones) and delivering a Fourth of undoubted stature, the other symphonies not quite adding up but to different degrees, but each has many fine features, especially the C minor.

Colin Anderson