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rhythmaningTwo concerts on consecutive nights: the tickets booked months ago, when all the plans were different.
The first was by the Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir, directed by Paul Hillier; I decided to go because it featured the music of Arvo Pärt; I hadn’t realised that the choir was unaccompanied, or might not have gone – but I am very glad I did. It was a fascinating concert, different from the usual music I listen to. The music was generally religious in origin.
They sang three pieces by Pärt, two by Toivo Tulev and one each by Veljo Tormis, Jean Sibelius and Erik Bergman. Aside from Pärt and Sibelius, I had never heard of the other composers.
The piece by Tormis opened the concert: Jaanilaulud (“St John’s Day Songs”). It was repetitive and haunting. It started with most of the choir on stage, but two members responding offstage, creating an eerie, abstract sound. The words – in Estonian – meant nothing to me, and so the voices became the musical instrument. It was a beautiful sound.
The Sibelius piece – Rakastava (“Beloved”) – was much less abstract, the music clearly forming a song. Summer Rain by Toivo Tulev had words in Latin and English, and was rather beautiful.
Pieces by Pärt bookended the interval. Dopo la Vittoria (“After the Victory”) was in Italian – it was commissioned by the city of Milan to the 1600th anniversary of the death of St Ambrosius. After the interval was Pärt’s Magnificat. I am familiar with Pärt’s orchestral music; this choral music seemed more concrete – less ethereal and perhaps less “minimal” – than that. It was gentle and contemplative.
The second song by Tulev was Rejoice, rejoice, rejoice!, sung in English – it had been commissioned by the British Embassy to celebrate a visit to Estonia by the Queen. It was followed by the last of the pieces by Pärt, a setting of Nunc Dimittis, in Latin.
The last piece was not the most modern, but it was the most experimental. A wordless (and hence completely abstract) suite of four sections by Erik Bergman, Lapponia had the voices making all sorts of sounds; growling and whistles as well as more word-like noises. Some of the sounds grated – after the gentle, meditative sounds of the earlier tunes, this piece jarred.
I was glad that the choir sang an encore – which wasn’t identified – which soothed after the guttural sounds of the Bergman.
There was something very peaceful and intimate about this concert. The audience were very attentive – there was complete silence aside from the choir - and the music was rather magical.
A couple of programme notes: the programme had an advert for the Filmhouse cinema, an Edinburgh institution which has been dumping arthouse movies on the unsuspecting public for decades. The adverts reads:
The programme also managed to misspell Paul Hillier’s name, calling him “Paul Hiller” when discussing the history of the choir.
I only wish I was as quick to spot errors in my own documents!
The following night I was back at the Usher Hall to see the Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra, conducted by the Venezuelan wunderkind, Gustavo Dudamel. There was much greater expectation in the concert hall: the audience were literally buzzing. Dudamel has built such a reputation – particularly following his appearance at the Proms last year with the Simon Bolivar Youth Orchestra that this concert was sold out months ago. The Dudamel fanclub was out in force.
They played three pieces, starting with a remarkable interpretation of Copland’s Appalachian Spring. This seemed slower than I have heard it before, but was very intense and moving. It was beautiful – powerful and controlled.
This was followed by Ravel’s La Valse, which I didn’t enjoy half as much. It seemed sentimental and syrupy, in stark contrast to the Copland – not half so special.
After the interval, the final programmed piece was Berlioz’ Symphonie Fantastique; and this was fantastic indeed. The orchestra seemed particularly large, with a huge percussion section (at one point there were four timpanists – a whole tympani section). This was big, powerful music, and Dudamel was in complete control of the orchestra, forcefully directing them, sculpting the sound. It was tremendous.
The audience was ecstatic; Dudamel controlled them as well so that the applause was held back for several seconds until he relaxed and let them clap. Which they did for several minutes.
After the glorious Berlioz, Dudamel brought the orchestra back for an encore and let everyone relax. I don’t know what the pieces were, but the orchestra got into Dudamel’s latin spirit – he had the trumpet section dancing (when the Simon Bolivar Youth Orchestra danced, it seemed charming and exuberant; seeing a string of middle aged white men dancing around their trumpets didn’t have quite the same effect – it was humorous but a little forced). Dudamel also involved the audience, getting us to dance and clap along and then conducting us, bringing us into the music as it ebbed and flowed.
It was a wonderful evening. The orchestra played a similar concert the following night in the Proms: they didn’t play Appalachian Spring, unfortunately, instead premiering a new clarinet concerto by Anders Hillborg – you can hear Ravel’s La Valse and Hillborg’s clarinet concerto here (until next Wednesday), and Berlioz's “ecstatic and hallucinatory Symphonie fantastique“ here (until next Wednesday).
The first was by the Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir, directed by Paul Hillier; I decided to go because it featured the music of Arvo Pärt; I hadn’t realised that the choir was unaccompanied, or might not have gone – but I am very glad I did. It was a fascinating concert, different from the usual music I listen to. The music was generally religious in origin.
They sang three pieces by Pärt, two by Toivo Tulev and one each by Veljo Tormis, Jean Sibelius and Erik Bergman. Aside from Pärt and Sibelius, I had never heard of the other composers.
The piece by Tormis opened the concert: Jaanilaulud (“St John’s Day Songs”). It was repetitive and haunting. It started with most of the choir on stage, but two members responding offstage, creating an eerie, abstract sound. The words – in Estonian – meant nothing to me, and so the voices became the musical instrument. It was a beautiful sound.
The Sibelius piece – Rakastava (“Beloved”) – was much less abstract, the music clearly forming a song. Summer Rain by Toivo Tulev had words in Latin and English, and was rather beautiful.
Pieces by Pärt bookended the interval. Dopo la Vittoria (“After the Victory”) was in Italian – it was commissioned by the city of Milan to the 1600th anniversary of the death of St Ambrosius. After the interval was Pärt’s Magnificat. I am familiar with Pärt’s orchestral music; this choral music seemed more concrete – less ethereal and perhaps less “minimal” – than that. It was gentle and contemplative.
The second song by Tulev was Rejoice, rejoice, rejoice!, sung in English – it had been commissioned by the British Embassy to celebrate a visit to Estonia by the Queen. It was followed by the last of the pieces by Pärt, a setting of Nunc Dimittis, in Latin.
The last piece was not the most modern, but it was the most experimental. A wordless (and hence completely abstract) suite of four sections by Erik Bergman, Lapponia had the voices making all sorts of sounds; growling and whistles as well as more word-like noises. Some of the sounds grated – after the gentle, meditative sounds of the earlier tunes, this piece jarred.
I was glad that the choir sang an encore – which wasn’t identified – which soothed after the guttural sounds of the Bergman.
There was something very peaceful and intimate about this concert. The audience were very attentive – there was complete silence aside from the choir - and the music was rather magical.
* * *
A couple of programme notes: the programme had an advert for the Filmhouse cinema, an Edinburgh institution which has been dumping arthouse movies on the unsuspecting public for decades. The adverts reads:
Filmhouse… Celebrating Wolrd Cinema
The programme also managed to misspell Paul Hillier’s name, calling him “Paul Hiller” when discussing the history of the choir.
I only wish I was as quick to spot errors in my own documents!
* * *
The following night I was back at the Usher Hall to see the Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra, conducted by the Venezuelan wunderkind, Gustavo Dudamel. There was much greater expectation in the concert hall: the audience were literally buzzing. Dudamel has built such a reputation – particularly following his appearance at the Proms last year with the Simon Bolivar Youth Orchestra that this concert was sold out months ago. The Dudamel fanclub was out in force.
They played three pieces, starting with a remarkable interpretation of Copland’s Appalachian Spring. This seemed slower than I have heard it before, but was very intense and moving. It was beautiful – powerful and controlled.
This was followed by Ravel’s La Valse, which I didn’t enjoy half as much. It seemed sentimental and syrupy, in stark contrast to the Copland – not half so special.
After the interval, the final programmed piece was Berlioz’ Symphonie Fantastique; and this was fantastic indeed. The orchestra seemed particularly large, with a huge percussion section (at one point there were four timpanists – a whole tympani section). This was big, powerful music, and Dudamel was in complete control of the orchestra, forcefully directing them, sculpting the sound. It was tremendous.
The audience was ecstatic; Dudamel controlled them as well so that the applause was held back for several seconds until he relaxed and let them clap. Which they did for several minutes.
After the glorious Berlioz, Dudamel brought the orchestra back for an encore and let everyone relax. I don’t know what the pieces were, but the orchestra got into Dudamel’s latin spirit – he had the trumpet section dancing (when the Simon Bolivar Youth Orchestra danced, it seemed charming and exuberant; seeing a string of middle aged white men dancing around their trumpets didn’t have quite the same effect – it was humorous but a little forced). Dudamel also involved the audience, getting us to dance and clap along and then conducting us, bringing us into the music as it ebbed and flowed.
Gustavo Dudamel conducting the Gothenburgh Symphony Orchestra, photographed during the encore when everyone was clapping, dancing and taking photographs!
It was a wonderful evening. The orchestra played a similar concert the following night in the Proms: they didn’t play Appalachian Spring, unfortunately, instead premiering a new clarinet concerto by Anders Hillborg – you can hear Ravel’s La Valse and Hillborg’s clarinet concerto here (until next Wednesday), and Berlioz's “ecstatic and hallucinatory Symphonie fantastique“ here (until next Wednesday).