Last night’s concert at the National Concert Hall featured star mezzo-soprano Tara Erraught (who is from Mullingar, in County Westmeath, and is artist-in-residence at the National Concert Hall for this season. She was accompanied by the National Symphony Orchestra directed by Laurence Cummings. You can tell how much I like Tara Erraught by the fact I went to the concert despite there being a harpsichord involved in some of the pieces; fortunately it was pointed away from the audience so we couldn’t hear it.
Before the concert, I was trying to remember when I heard her sing before. A look at my back catalogue revealed that it was this concert at which she sang a Mahler song-cycle. Last night’s performance comprised very different material, all from the 18th Century. There were three vocal pieces: a cantata in four sections by a name quite new to me, Marianna Martines, also known as Marianne von Martinez; a concert aria by Joseph Haydn; and by far the most exciting piece, Mozart’s wonderful Exsultate Jubilate. Tara Erraught was in fine voice throughout but I was particularly impressed with the precision of her articulation of the ornamented phrases in the last work. The audience loved it too.
The concert was all about Tara Erraught, however. The first half included Symphony No. 25 by Joseph Haydn, a funny little work only 13 minutes long and lacking the usual slow movement that seemed to me like it wasn’t really finished. It’s certainly not among Haydn’s best symphonies, anyway. It was a bit unfair on Haydn to have Mozart’s Symphony No. 41 “Jupiter” on the same menu as that it is one of the great symphonies by any composer. It did however demonstrate very powerfully how much the symphonic form had evolved in the twenty-odd years separating the two compositions (which incidentally are both in the same key of C Major). The Jupiter symphony is not only brim full of ideas, but the themes are woven into a much richer fabric. I might add that it was very well played by the NSO in a performance that was forceful and energetic without being too bombastic.
Last night’s Concert at the National Concert Hall in Dublin was billed as Puccini 100 as it was primarily intended to mark the centenary of the death of Giacomo Puccini. Guest conductor Carlo Rizzi had a long association with Welsh National Opera and is well-versed in Puccini’s operatic repertoire but this concert featured a rare treasure in the form of the Messa di Gloria, a large-scale work for choir, two soloists and orchestra Puccini wrote as a graduation piece when he was still a music student in Milan. Contrary to what you might infer from the title, it’s actually a full setting of the Latin Mass. Although written when the composer was only 20, the piece was never officially published until 1952, long after Puccini’s death. He did, however, recycle some pieces from it during his career as a composer of operas, chiefly in Manon Lescaut.
Before the Messa..
Although I’m a fan of Puccini’s operas I had never heard the Messa before and didn’t really know what to expect. It was turned out to be quite a revelation. As you might have anticipated it does sound more “operatic” than you might expect of a religious work and that dramatic certainly heightens the impact of the performance. I’m told that the National Symphony Chorus worked like crazy last week in rehearsals for this concert, and it certainly showed. The choir sounded absolutely amazing. Congratulations to choral director David Young! The two soloists were Welsh tenor Gwyn Hughes Jones and South African bass-baritone Simon Shibambu, both of whom were in fine voice. I particularly enjoyed the duet between them in the final Agnus Dei that brings the piece to a surprisingly gentle conclusion.
I really enjoy concerts that feature compositions I’ve never heard before, and this was a great example of that. I’m really glad that the Messa was chosen to mark Puccini 100. I must get a recording of it…
But the Puccini was only half the concert. Before the wine break we heard a very nice orchestral overture in C Major by Fanny Mendelssohn and then the evergreen 4th Symphony (“The Italian”) written by her kid brother, Felix, as a celebration of the time he spent in Italy on a Grand Tour. It was interesting to hear the two pieces played together as there is so much in common between the styles of composition, but so many subtle differences in voice. It’s a great pity that the sexism of the day prevented Fanny Mendelssohn from fulfilling her potential as a composer.
Yesterday I once again headed off after work into Dublin by train to attend a concert by the National Symphony Orchestra this time under the direction of guest conductor Dinis Sousa (whose name is new to me). The programme consisted of two very familiar works, Grieg’s Piano Concerto in A Minor by Grieg and Elgar’s Enigma Variations by Elgar.
To start with, however, we heard a very interesting short piece by Anna Clyne called Masquerade which I enjoyed very much. This is only about five minutes long in performance, but full of energy and dynamics, and was a very suitable appetizer for the courses to follow.
The soloist for the Grieg Piano Concerto was Louis Schwizgebel who played it very well indeed. His articulation was crisp where necessary but also flowing when called for in the more romantic sections. The performance was very well received by the audience and by me. Actually I think that was the best performance of this work that I’ve heard live. Incidentally, I’m told the piano on which he performed was a brand new Steinway. Also incidentally, Edvard Grieg was only 24 when he wrote this piece.
During the second movement a member of the viola section of the orchestra had to leave the stage. I don’t know if she had broken a string or was just feeling unwell. I suppose both of these most happen from time to time in concerts, but I’d never seen it before. Thankfully she was back for the second half.
The Enigma Variations is another piece that is performed quite frequently. I’m not a huge fan of Elgar but this work definitely has its moments and I think anyone who doesn’t find Variation IX (“Nimrod”) uplifting must have something wrong with them. That said, that part is often played too slowly for my taste and can sound funereal rather than inspirational. Anyway, I hadn’t heard this in live performance for a long time so it was very pleasant to hear it again. I had forgotten that there is an organ part to this, actually, and it was good to hear the splendid NCH instrument used especially in the finale.
Overall it was a short (just 66 minutes playing time) but enjoyable concert. I’ll certainly be looking out for Louis Schwizgebel’s name on recordings in future as I think he is a fine soloist.
Last night found me once again at the National Concert Hall in Dublin for a concert by the National Symphony Orchestra conducted this time by Leonard Slatkin, who has a long association with the NSO and who was 80 years old on 1st September. I must say he looked very sprightly for a man eighty years of age!
To start the programme we had the world premiere of a piece by Leonard Slatkin’s son, Daniel. Voyager 130 was inspired by the Voyager space mission, and especially by the Golden Records carried by the Voyager probes. Among the pieces of music included on those records is the exquisite Cavatina from Beethoven’s String Quartet No. 13 (Opus 130) from which the composer borrows thematic material for this piece. Daniel Slatkin was actually in the audience for this – in fact he was sitting just two rows in front of me – and went up on stage after the very enjoyable performance.
After that, and some rearranging on stage, we had a performance of Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 4 with Dublin-born soloist Hugh Tinney. Although for its time it was very unconventional in structure, this is now a very familiar piece in the concert hall. For the most part it was played very well but I did think the orchestra were a bit stiff and lacking in expression in places. The performance was warmly received by the NCH audience, and Hugh Tinney received a standing ovation at the end.
After the wine break we had another familiar work, the Symphony No. 3 by Johannes Brahms, which Leonard Slatkin conducted without a score. I’m persevering with Brahms. I still don’t find that he moves me as much as many other composers and so many people rave about him that I think I must be missing something. The 3rd Symphony is a very fine work, offering lots of variety across its four movements while maintaining a strong sense of coherence and remaining relatively concise – it lasts about 33 minutes in performance. I’m no expert on Brahms but it seems to me that the 3rd Symphony is where he really found his voice as a symphonic composer and stepped out from the shadow of Beethoven.
Apart from the first piece, it was a very conventional programme but I enjoyed it as did the audience. It’s a pity there weren’t more people there, though. I’d guess that the NCH was about 2/3 full at most.
P.S. Last night Leinster rugby were playing a match at Landsdowne Road (beating the Dragons 34-6) and Shelbourne were playing Sligo Rovers at home in the League of Ireland (a 0-0 draw) so the train home was a bit busier than last time but still uneventful. When I got home later I decided to listen to a recording of the Beethoven Strong Quartet No. 13 before bed…
It was just over a year ago that I last went to the National Concert Hall in Dublin. That occasion was the opening of a new season of concerts for 2023-4 by the National Symphony Orchestra. After a year away on sabbatical, last night I went to the season opening of the next year of concerts by the National Symphony Orchestra, this time under the direction of Mihhail Gerts. I’m hoping to see more of the forthcoming season than I did the last!
The programme for the concert is shown in the picture. The first half was dominated by legendary mezzo-soprano Dame Sarah Connolly, resplendent in a turquoise frock, who sang six songs by Alma Mahler (born Alma Schindler) who was of course the wife of Gustav Mahler whose 1st Symphony we heard in the second half. Gustav famously (and reprehensibly) told Alma that she had to give up composing music when they married (which they did in 1902). Until then she had written not only songs but also piano music. Few of her compositions survive, however. Apparently she destroyed many of the manuscripts herself in later life. Of the fifty or so songs she is thought to have written, only 17 (including the 6 we heard last night) still exist on paper. She at least responded by outliving him by more than 50 years: Gustav died in 1911 and Alma Mahler passed away in 1964.
It’s very unfair to compare Alma Mahler’s settings with those of Gustav Mahler, who was a master of the orchestral song cycle. The compositions we heard all all quite short, three or four minutes, and are definitely influenced by Wagner. The first song, for example, deploys the famous Tristan Chord and there are passages that are clearly influenced by the Wesendonck Lieder. None of the manuscripts are dated, but in terms of style they do sound like late Romantic works from around 1900 when she was very young. Overall these works not at the same level of achievement of either Richard Wagner or Gustav Mahler but, with Sarah Connolly in fine voice, there was much to enjoy. I had never heard any of these songs before this evening, and it left me wondering what Alma Mahler might have achieved musically had she continued to compose. We’ll never know.
Before these songs we heard the concert overture In Nature’s Realm by Antonín Dvořák. This is also a piece that feels very late-19th Century (it was composed in 1891). It’s a sort of homage to the beauty of the composer’s native Bohemia with distinct echoes of Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony, I thought.
After the interval wine break we returned for the second half which consisted of (Gustav) Mahler’s Symphony No. 1 in D Major. This is a very familiar concert work nowadays, but it’s worth remembering that it didn’t exactly set the world on fire when it was first performed in 1889 and Mahler revised it extensively before it arrived at the form now usually performed. Like all Mahler symphonies it covers a vast territory. One of the most famous Mahler quotations is “the symphony is a world”, but in the case of his own symphonies each movement is a world. The first movement begins in hesitant and fragmentary fashion before bursting into life with a metaphorical evocation of daybreak. The second movement is earthier and more forceful, quoting from folk songs and country dances. The third is my favourite, with its humorously up-beat references to Klezmer music before ending in a kind of funeral march. The final movement is tempestuous at first, then calm, then erupts into a glorious finale.
Last night’s performance was broadcast live on RTÉ Lyric FM but what radio listeners won’t have got was the thrilling sight of a symphony orchestra in full flood. At the end of the last movement, members of brass section stood up to give extra power to the climactic resolution of the piece. Mahler does “loud” very well indeed, but I was impressed by the spectacle too: the lights gleaming off the array of trombones and horns as they blasted out the final phrases (in another context I would call them “riffs”). Great stuff, and very well received by the audience.
P.S. On the way into Dublin to see last night’s concert I realized that the Irish Rail timetable had changed while I was away so, instead of terminating at Connolly (the station, not the mezzo-soprano), the train I was on went all the way through to Pearse, thereby saving me a bit of time walking. It only takes about 20 minutes (for me) to walk from Pearse to the NCH, in case you’re wondering, and I do like a bit of a walk to stretch my legs before sitting down for a couple of hours at a concert.
Last night I went to the Opening Concert of the new season by the National Symphony Orchestra at the National Concert Hall in Dublin. I’ll be away for most of the year, so I thought I’d make the most of the time I’ve got before I depart to get a fix of culture.
This year is the 75th anniversary of the founding of the National Symphony Orchestra, and the very first piece they performed at their very first concert back in 1948 was Academic Festival Overture by Johannes Brahms. I found it an especially fitting piece because this week we have been having graduation (conferring) ceremonies all week in Maynooth. It’s a familiar work, but provided an enjoyably upbeat start to the show.
The next piece was a a world premiere of a special commission for the National Symphony Orchestra. I was looking forward to this because it was to be the first time I’ve ever heard the uilleann pipes on the concert stage. The piece is a lot of fun, full of great tunes and robust humour. The uilleann pipes are a rather quiet instrument, however, and I have to say I hardly heard a note from them over the rest of the orchestra. At the end a Scottish piper walked on stage to play the bagpipes during the finale. These pipes are a much louder instrument, and even they were hard to hear with the rest of the band on full throttle.
Anyway, after the wine break, we had the Symphonie Fantastique by Hector Berlioz. I was put off this piece at school by a teacher who was obsessed with it and spent nearly a whole term banging on about how wonderful it is. While it is undoubtedly very imaginative – and very innovative for a piece written as early as 1830 – I remain unconvinced by all the hype. It’s basically a fever dream resulting from the composer’s experiments on opium and I find it rather gimmicky. Nevertheless, there is much to enjoy in a live performance of the work. Conductor Jaime Martín began the performance with a genial introduction to some of the “crazy” elements which he got the relevant musicians to play snippets representing, for example, the bubbling cauldron in the last movement which represents witches doing their stuff.
After the full performance the National Symphony Orchestra got a standing ovation. I joined in only briefly because the conductor’s introduction to the Berlioz meant that the concert was longer than I expected and I had to leave to catch my train back to Maynooth. I needn’t have worried. The train was 20 minutes late.
Yesterday, after a nice walk through the sunny streets of Dublin, at the National Concert Hall for the final concert of the season by the National Symphony Orchestra, under the direction of Mihhail Gerts, who were joined, for the second half, by the National Symphony Chorus directed by David Young and three star vocalists. The progamme consisted of two pieces by Sergei Rachmaninov (who was born 150 years ago this year) and one by Eduard Tubin (an Estonian composer who was new to me before last night).
The Isle of the Dead, by Arnold Böcklin
The first item one the menu was The Isle of the Dead, Op. 29 by Sergei Rachmaninov, inspired by a painting of the same name by Arnold Böcklin and written around 1908. The rhythms of the opening passage evoke the motion of a boat moving across the sea to the island, from which point the piece develops among a cloud of increasingly dense harmonic layers into a dark atmosphere full of foreboding. It’s a darkly dramatic work that I’ve enjoyed every time I heard it and last night was no exception.
There then followed the Sinfonietta on Estonian Motifs by Eduard Tubin introduced by conductor Mihhail Gerts, who is himself from Estonia. It’s a work in three movements inspired by the folk songs the composer heard as a child growing up in Estonia. I knew that much before the performance started but didn’t realize it would turn out to be such a weighty composition. The two outer movements are rhythmically complex in a way that’s reminiscent of Stravinksy (especially Petrushka) and the overall mood is far from the pastoral tranquility I’d expected: the music is rather edgy, in fact. I suppose that’s not surprising given that it was written in 1940. I enjoyed this but it is strange how much it reminded me of other composers: as well as Stravinsky, there are clear nods in the direction of Sibelius and at times it also reminded me of Arnold Bax. You might say it is a little bit derivative. I couldn’t possibly comment.
After the interval
After the wine break we had The Bells, a choral symphony for soprano, tenor, bass-baritone, chorus and large symphony orchestra by Sergei Rachmaninov (Op. 35). The words are based on a Russian translation of the poem The Bells by Edgar Allan Poe which was very popular in Russia in the early 20th century and which clearly resonated with Rachmaninov:
The sound of church bells dominated all the cities of Russia I used to know, they accompanied every Russian from childhood to the grave and no composer could escape their influence. Most of my life was lived amid vibrations of of the bells of Moscow.
Sergei Rachmaninov
The Bells is in four movements, echoing the four stanzas of the poem, and representing the journey “from childhood to the grave”, the last movement being a Lento subtitled The Mournful Iron Bells. The three soloists sing in one part each; the third movement involves orchestra and chorus only. Ukrainian tenor Valentyn Dytiuk sang in the first movement, Estonian soprano Mirjam Mesak the second and Ukrainian baritone Andrei Bondarenko the fourth. All three soloists were superb but particularly enjoyed the sinewy muscularity of Bondarenko’s baritone which gave a sense of rawness to his performance.
It was a fitting finale to the season. Congratulations to the National Symphony Orchestra for a great performance, and to the National Symphony Orchestra who were outstanding too.
Walking back to Pearse Station to get the train for Maynooth I found myself wondering when my next visit to the National Concert Hall will be. I’ll be away on sabbatical most of next year. Still, there’ll be plenty of music where I’m going…
Looking back through my old blog posts, I find that the last time I went to a concert at the National Concert Hall was 10th February 2023. Owing to pressure of work I’ve had neither the time nor the energy to make the trip into Dublin since then, but last night I finally managed to get there for the excellent programme shown above, which was also broadcast live on RTÉ Lyric FM.
On this occasion the National Symphony Orchestra was conducted by Ruth Reinhardt, who last conducted the Orchestra during the pandemic in one of those weird occasions for which most of the musicians were masked, as was she. Anyway, for tonight’s performance she was unmasked long with the rest of the band.
Anton Webern’s Passacaglia(his Opus 1) was a new one on me. It’s not in the 12-tone style he adopted later as a member of the 2nd Viennese School, and can properly be regarded as a (very) late Romantic piece. It’s an intriguing variation of the Passacaglia form (originally a stately dance in triple time built on a bass theme) in that it’s not really a dance and it’s not in triple time, but it is introduced by a theme of eight notes played pizzicato on the strings, which is then followed by a set of variations. The piece only runs about 12 minutes but it packs a lot in. I found it very absorbing and enjoyed it enormously.
The Four Last Songs were published after his death, so Richard Strauss never heard them performed. The very first time they were performed was in 1950 at the Royal Albert Hall, by the London Philharmonia. One can only imagine what it must have been like for the orchestra making this music live for the very first time. Apparently the first time any of them had seen the score was when they turned up for the rehearsal. I’m sure they knew as soon as they started playing that it was a masterpiece.
Last night we heard these songs sung by Amanda Majeski, who arrived on stage resplendent in a black evening gown. I was somewhat surprised to see her using a score for this performance. I would have thought that this was such a standard component of the repertoire that all sopranos would know all the songs off by heart. Perhaps it was just nerves, but I thought the first song, Frühling, lacked warmth but as the concert went on Amanda Majeski got into her stride and by the time she got to Im Abendrot (my favourite) she reached the right level of intensity.
I must single out the leader of the National Symphony Orchestra Elaine Clark for her gorgeous playing of the lovely violin solo in the third song, Beim Schlafengehen. I don’t mind admitting that it brought a tear to my eye.
Incidentally, as far as I know the Four Last Songs were not specifically intended to be performed together as they inevitably are these days. Although the last is my favourite, I think the first three (all based on poems by Herman Hesse) have much more in common with each other than Im Abendrot (which is a poem by Joseph von Eichendorff).
After the wine break we had Symphony No. 3 (“Scottish”) by Felix Mendelssohn. Inspired by a visit to Scotland in 1829 – the first movement was actually composed that year in Edinburgh – it wasn’t completed until over a decade later and should probably be No. 5, but who’s counting? It’s a piece on four movements, with little or no break between them. The first movement starts with a slow theme, like a hymn, but then becomes much more reminiscent of the Hebrides Overture composed in 1830. The landscape of the other three movements is very varied, sometimes cheery, sometimes lush, sometimes tempestuous. The final movement Allegro Vivacissimo has a marking guerriro (“warlike”), which in parts it is, but it also has calmer and more reflective passages before the rumbustious finale.
I always enjoy watching the musicians in these concerts, and could see last night that they were all enjoying themselves hugely. Well done to Ruth Reinhardt and the National Symphony Orchestra for an excellent performance. The hall was by no means full, which was a shame, but the concert was warmly appreciated by those of us there in the audience and no doubt by those listening on the radio.
Now there’s only a month or so to the finale of this concert season so I must try to make the most of the few remaining performances before the summer break…
After last week’s magnificent concert I couldn’t miss another chance to see and hear Danielle de Niese in at the National Concert Hall in Dublin, again with the National Symphony Orchestra under the direction of Jaime Martin. It was another fascinating (and very full) programme.
For last week’s concert, the National Concert Hall was only about two-thirds full but this time it was packed. I think the glowing reviews of La Voix Humaine contributed to that, as did the round of media interviews Danielle de Niese has done since then contributed to the full house.
Danielle de Niese seems to like singing 20th century French music and the concert opened with Shéhérazade by Maurice Ravel. This is a cycle of three songs which are settings of poems inspired by The Arabian Nights written by the pseudonymous poet Tristan Klingsor: Asie, La flûte enchantée, and L’Indifférent. Ravel was a real master of orchestration, and he creates a succession of exotic textures to complement the vocal lines. It’s not a long piece -altogether the three songs last about 15 minutes – but it covers a vast territory. There’s more than a nod to Debussy in this work too.
After that Danielle de Niese went off stage to change her frock, which was lime green for the Ravel, while the orchestra played the overture to the singspiel Die Entführung aus dem Serail (The Abduction from the Seraglio) by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. I’ve actually reviwed the whole Opera (was that really 12 years ago?) and wrote then (about the plot):
It’s admittedly a bit thin, even by the standards of comic opera but, right from the fabulous overture, the music is lovely and there’s a great deal of good-humoured fun,
The overture is great fun to listen to, and obviously also to play. Jaime Martin was beaming and bouncing up and down on the podium during the performance.
And then Danielle de Niese returned (this time in a lurid red dress) to sing another piece by Mozart. Exsultate, Jubilate is a piece for solo voice and orchestra usually described as a motet but technically really a cantata. There are three movements, marked Allegro, Andante and Allegro. It’s obviously a work,with a religious theme, and the central Andante movement does sound like it is sacred music, but the outer Allegro movements are very operatic, with demanding coloratura passages, especially in the final Hallelujah. I don’t usually associate such vocal acrobatics with religious music, but it’s certainly a very exuberant and joyful piece. Astonishingly, Mozart was just 17 years old when he wrote it.
That piece by Mozart presented very different challenges to the soloist, Danielle de Niese but she showed herself to be a very accomplished performer in this too. With that her two-week residence in Dublin came to an end. She was presented with a huge bouquet of flowers and a standing ovation before we headed off to the bar for the interval.
After the wine break the National Symphony Orchestra was joined by the National Symphony Chorus for complete performance of the music to the ballet Daphnis et Chloé by Maurice Ravel. As is the case with Stravinsky’s Firebird, music from this ballet is often played in the form of a suite or, in the case of this ballet, two suites, but I have to say the whole is much greater than the sum of the suites and this work has become one of my favourite pieces to hear live. It’s a gloriously sensual and dramatic work, again brilliantly orchestrated, full of vibrant colours and lush textures, and even more wonderful when accompanied by the wordless singing of the massed ranks of the National Symphony Chorus. The score lasts a good hour, but that time seemed to flash by in this performance which was extremely well received by a very appreciative audience.
This was a very full programme and I had to leave during the applause to make sure I got back to Pearse station in time to catch the train back to Maynooth. I’m not as quick on my pins as I used to be. I arrived at Pearse with about five minutes to spare only to find that the train was five minutes late so I didn’t have rushed.
I have to congratulate whoever is doing the programming for these NSO concerts at the NCH. The last few have been excellent, and next week’s recipe of Ives, Beethoven and Sibelius looks great too!
After a very busy week and ahead of the start of a new term on Monday, it was nice to be back in the National Concert Hall in Dublin last night for a superb concert, featuring a double bill of Brahms and Poulenc. It is quite an unusual pairing to have a symphony first, but each work we heard was about 40 minutes long, so it was actually well balanced, and the contrast worked very well indeed.
Before the interval we had came the main course in the form of the Symphony No. 3 in F Major by Johannes Brahms. This is of course quite a familiar work, but I really like concerts that mix unfamiliar material with the standard concert repertoire. It also gave me the chance to persevere with Brahms as my friends keep telling me to. It’s not that I don’t like Brahms, it’s just that I don’t find that he moves me as much as many other composers and so many people rave about him that I think I must be missing something. The 3rd Symphony is a very fine work, offering lots of variety across its four movements while maintaining a strong sense of coherence. I’m no expert on Brahms but it seems to me that the 3rd Symphony is where he really found his voice as a symphonic composer and stepped out from the shadow of Beethoven. It was performed beautifully last night under the direction of Jaime Martin and the National Symphony Orchestra.
After the wine break we returned for a rare treat in the form of La Voix Humaine, a one-act Opera for soprano and orchestra by Francis Poulenc, featuring the wonderful Danielle de Niese. The staging for this work is shown in the picture taken before most the orchestra had returned: just a chaise longue, a chair, a small table and an old-fashioned telephone.
La Voix Humaine portrays the last conversation between an anonymous woman (referred to throughout as Elle, the French word for “she”) and her lover, with whom she has just broken up. Only one character appears on stage and we only hear Elle’s side of the conversation. She sings into the telephone throughout; . the audience has to infer what her ex is saying at the other end. There are also frequent interruptions from another character who keeps intruding on the conversation, as the call appears to be on a party line, a concept that younger readers will not understand! This, together with the frequent disconnections and reconnections, provides some darkly comic relief. As you can probably imagine, it doesn’t end happily.
The performance was in French and there were no surtitles. It struck me that this work would be very difficult to translate into another language, as the music so accurately follows the natural rhythm and emphasis of spoken French. We were given the full libretto, with English translation, in the programme notes, but fortunately my memory of schoolboy French was good enough to get me a pass mark on following it without having to refer to the translation.
Poulenc’s compelling and emotionally charged music helps suggest what is being said at the other end when Elle is not singing, as well as accompanying her. The score struck me as rather cinematic, in that parts could easily be imagined as incidental music in a movie. Given the nature of the libretto, much of the music is like a the recitatives you find in operatic scores, but it is also more expansive and sensual when Elle pours out her broken heart. There are definite touches of Debussy in the orchestration, but it’s a very original approach that Poulenc uses and the National Symphony Orchestra made it come alive with great intensity.
And what can I say about Danielle de Niese? Amazingly, this was the first time she had performed La Voix Humaine in front of a live audience. She was sensational. She has a lovely voice and sang beautifully but her acting was also utterly convincing and she had a compelling stage presence. This was not just a concert performance but a genuine opera. I was straight up on my feet at the end, along with the rest of the audience. Brava!
To be honest, this was the piece I went for, rather than the Brahms, as I had never heard it before. I wasn’t disappointed. It was an intensely moving performance of a remarkable work which had me in pieces at the end. I enjoyed Brahms 3rd Symphony, but La Voix Humaine hit me in the guts. I must listen to more Poulenc.
Danielle de Niese is back at the NCH next Friday, singing Ravel and Mozart. Needless to say, after last night’s performance I’ll definitely be going!
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In the Dark 