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Alix Goolden Performance Hall
March 14, 2015
A funny thing happened to me - not on the way to Saturday's Civic Orchestra concert, but during the concert itself.
Of course, it might not seem funny to others that I managed to sit through the entirety of César Franck's Symphony in D minor without fidgeting in my seat, shuffling my feet or looking at my watch every couple of minutes, wondering when this torture would end, but that was more-or-less my reaction the last time I heard the Franck Symphony, closer to two decades ago than one.
Somehow, though, Yariv Aloni and his dedicated musicians managed to overcome my basic hostility to the music (not to mention the shortcomings of the symphony itself, particularly its dense orchestration) in a performance which, while not perfect, had more than its share of excitement and coherence.
The opening movement featured some fine lower strings at the opening and a finely-controlled crescendo leading to the main allegro (although I find the abrupt return to the music of the introduction interrupts the movement's flow somewhat pointlessly). The second subject was imbued with a particularly appropriate yearning quality and the orchestra's sound at the climax was full-bodied and powerful.
The harp-and-pizzicato beginning of the second movement was excellently done - as was Colin Mailer's English horn solo - and the embedded scherzo, with its scurrying violins and characterful wind, was very fine.
The finale opened in subtlely propulsive fashion, leading to a big tutti. As with the opening movement, Franck's second subject is far more distinguished than his first and there are a couple of odd moments - a wholesale insertion of part of the second movement and a brief reappearance of the work's opening theme (a trick of which Antonin Dvořák was master, but not César) - but Aloni and his players conveyed the overall sweep of the movement superbly and the final peroration was all one could have hoped for.
I cannot say, with hand on heart, that this performance has converted me into a Franck evangelist; however, when the next performance comes along - and on the basis of past history, this is only likely to happen once more during my lifetime - I shall not be seeking excuses to avoid it.
A minor revelation, to be sure, but a revelation nonetheless. Kudos to all concerned.
At the first performance of his only completed orchestral song cycle, Sea Pictures, on October 5, 1899, Edward Elgar conducted like "a hawk dreaming poetry in captivity" while his soloist, Clara Butt, wore "a wonderful dress, the material of which, it was whispered, indicated appropriately the scales of a mermaid's sinuous form".
Susan Young was the excellent soloist in a thoroughly idiomatic performance, characterised by flexible and well-managed tempos. If there was a problem it was the occasional overbalancing of the vocal line by the accompaniment. This often seems the case in live (as opposed to recorded) performances and I wonder if Sir Edward is not, at least to some extent, culpable: as is well-known he originally wrote the work for the more penetrating soprano voice and transposed it down for the mezzo/contralto voice at the request of Clara Butt - the larger-than-life, six-foot-two contralto with "a booming voice" - and perhaps he failed to realise that other mezzos would require a less powerful accompaniment.
It would be a mistake to make too much of this, though, as for the most part Young was perfectly audible, her diction was outstanding and her sympathy with the music an almost tangible thing. Her control of her instrument was, of course, total.
One feature of this marvellous performance cannot go unmentioned, the contribution of Nicholas Fairbank playing the Conservatory's Casavant organ; at the close of the third song, its presence was a physical as well as audible one. As I wrote in my notebook at the time: "Wow!"
The concert opened with a sparkling account of Schubert's overture to Rosamunde. The opening was bold and displayed good tone all round, although it must be admitted that string intonation, especially in the upper registers, was not one hundred percent. There were very good flute and oboe solos from Mary Jill McCulloch and Sheila Longton respectively. The main allegro fairly fizzed along and I confess I did wonder if articulation might have been a little clearer if the tempo had been just a fraction slower.
I'm still wondering.
What was in no doubt, however, was the excitement generated by the performance which underlined the music's relationship, if only in terms of sheer propulsive energy, to the "Great" C major symphony, especially the finale.
Outside the hall the sun was shining, but I did not regret missing a minute of the sunshine for what was happening inside.
A thoroughly enjoyable, indeed rewarding afternoon.
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