Saturday 17th May 2014
Review of the concert by Philip Worth
What is the definition of a ‘fanfare’? Try this: a short musical interlude, loud enough immediately to command listeners’ attention and usually played on brass instruments and percussion, performed to herald a special event. So why a fanfare as the first item of a DSO concert? Is that a special event? The answer, of course, must be a resounding ‘yes’. Throughout much of the year fifty or so people come together at regular intervals and give of their time and fine talents to analyse and work at musical masterpieces and, eventually, to present them, wonderfully well played, to an appreciative audience. And this has continued for the past forty years, thus providing a secure source of cultural enrichment for our community. In my book that makes every DSO concert a special event!
Aaron Copland got the idea of his Fanfare For The Common Man from Eugene Goosens who had made the format popular during World War One as a means of boosting public morale. The title was inspired by a speech in 1942 by Vice-President Henry Wallace in which he referred to ‘The Century of the Common Man’. Since the it has been performed on countless occasions all round the world (Wolverhampton Wanderers play it at the start of every home match!)
To go from the Common Man Fanfare to the Thomas Tallis Fantasia was a masterstroke of programming. The contrast in mood could not have been greater; not only did this not jar but it added spice to listener enjoyment, like being summoned by loudspeaker into the depths of a cathedral. The note struck by Vaughan Williams in this great work is deeply solemn and stately – a prayer to God from the very soul of England. To achieve the effect of a mighty organ from an all string ensemble the composer used three groupings, distinctive yet perfectly interactive, achieving a fine balance throughout. With limited resources Tom Loten cleverly split his strings into three components – a challenge for the players concerned, but one to which they rose with great panache and commitment.
When reading the biographies of many great composers we are accustomed to be informed that they showed precocious talent at a very early age. This certainly applied to Prokofiev who, when he entered the St. Petersburg Conservatory at age thirteen already had several operas under his belt! He did, however, have a weakness: up until the age of five he was, apparently, reluctant to tackle the black notes. His struggle to overcome this phobia by age six must have been great, but he had certainly beaten it by the time he composed his piano concerto no. 1 in his early twenties. In this work, so far as the technical challenge to the soloist was concerned, he took no prisoners, whether on the white or the black notes. This certainly applied to Alim Beisembayev our soloist who, at age sixteen gave a performance breathtaking in its confidence and skill – there were passages in which his hands seemed to blur, so rapidly did they move over the keyboard. Often tense and uneasy this work is vivid and arresting, with orchestra and piano locked in a kind of mutally enhancing combat. DSO and Alim Beisembayev gave us a feast of what the Soviet authorities described as ‘formalistic distortions and anti-democratic tendencies’ – so ‘nuts to them!’
When still in his early twenties Johannes Brahms had several polished compositions to his credit but had tackled nothing on a large orchestral scale. Even at that early stage of his career he was a perfectionist and had destroyed as much music as he had preserved; his output, therefore, was still comparatively slender. In spite of that, and infected no doubt by the spirited optimism of youth, he dared to think that he might compose a symphony – ‘dared’ because twenty seven years after Beethoven’s death and nine great symphonies later the musical world continued to labour under the shadow of this Titan. Therefore for Brahms the next twenty years, filled as they were with timeless music, also nurtured ideas and sketches for a great symphony, culminating in a premiere of the completed work at Karlsruhe in 1876. So great was the impact of this mighty composition on public and critics alike that, for example, conductor Hans von Bulow felt inspired to dub it ‘Beethoven’s Tenth’ – a great compliment to Brahms – and to Beethoven?
What is the definition of a ‘fanfare’? Try this: a short musical interlude, loud enough immediately to command listeners’ attention and usually played on brass instruments and percussion, performed to herald a special event. So why a fanfare as the first item of a DSO concert? Is that a special event? The answer, of course, must be a resounding ‘yes’. Throughout much of the year fifty or so people come together at regular intervals and give of their time and fine talents to analyse and work at musical masterpieces and, eventually, to present them, wonderfully well played, to an appreciative audience. And this has continued for the past forty years, thus providing a secure source of cultural enrichment for our community. In my book that makes every DSO concert a special event!
Aaron Copland got the idea of his Fanfare For The Common Man from Eugene Goosens who had made the format popular during World War One as a means of boosting public morale. The title was inspired by a speech in 1942 by Vice-President Henry Wallace in which he referred to ‘The Century of the Common Man’. Since the it has been performed on countless occasions all round the world (Wolverhampton Wanderers play it at the start of every home match!)
To go from the Common Man Fanfare to the Thomas Tallis Fantasia was a masterstroke of programming. The contrast in mood could not have been greater; not only did this not jar but it added spice to listener enjoyment, like being summoned by loudspeaker into the depths of a cathedral. The note struck by Vaughan Williams in this great work is deeply solemn and stately – a prayer to God from the very soul of England. To achieve the effect of a mighty organ from an all string ensemble the composer used three groupings, distinctive yet perfectly interactive, achieving a fine balance throughout. With limited resources Tom Loten cleverly split his strings into three components – a challenge for the players concerned, but one to which they rose with great panache and commitment.
When reading the biographies of many great composers we are accustomed to be informed that they showed precocious talent at a very early age. This certainly applied to Prokofiev who, when he entered the St. Petersburg Conservatory at age thirteen already had several operas under his belt! He did, however, have a weakness: up until the age of five he was, apparently, reluctant to tackle the black notes. His struggle to overcome this phobia by age six must have been great, but he had certainly beaten it by the time he composed his piano concerto no. 1 in his early twenties. In this work, so far as the technical challenge to the soloist was concerned, he took no prisoners, whether on the white or the black notes. This certainly applied to Alim Beisembayev our soloist who, at age sixteen gave a performance breathtaking in its confidence and skill – there were passages in which his hands seemed to blur, so rapidly did they move over the keyboard. Often tense and uneasy this work is vivid and arresting, with orchestra and piano locked in a kind of mutally enhancing combat. DSO and Alim Beisembayev gave us a feast of what the Soviet authorities described as ‘formalistic distortions and anti-democratic tendencies’ – so ‘nuts to them!’
When still in his early twenties Johannes Brahms had several polished compositions to his credit but had tackled nothing on a large orchestral scale. Even at that early stage of his career he was a perfectionist and had destroyed as much music as he had preserved; his output, therefore, was still comparatively slender. In spite of that, and infected no doubt by the spirited optimism of youth, he dared to think that he might compose a symphony – ‘dared’ because twenty seven years after Beethoven’s death and nine great symphonies later the musical world continued to labour under the shadow of this Titan. Therefore for Brahms the next twenty years, filled as they were with timeless music, also nurtured ideas and sketches for a great symphony, culminating in a premiere of the completed work at Karlsruhe in 1876. So great was the impact of this mighty composition on public and critics alike that, for example, conductor Hans von Bulow felt inspired to dub it ‘Beethoven’s Tenth’ – a great compliment to Brahms – and to Beethoven?