Review of Hallé concert with Casken world premiere

A new trumpet concerto in the BBC Philharmonic’s programme last Saturday, and now a new trombone concerto (though composer John Casken calls it ‘a drama for trombone and orchestra’) at the Hallé – solo brass players are doing well in Manchester.

There are similarities. Robin Holloway’s trumpet work was about as explicitly programmatic as you could get, with a detailed narrative turned into musical symbols at every point in its sequence. Casken’s trombone piece sets out to be a drama, though it’s equally explicitly based on a picture – but every picture tells a story.

Madonna of Silence, given its world premiere by Hallé principal Katy Jones with the Hallé conducted by Jamie Phillips last night, is about the drawing of the same name by Michelangelo, where we see the Holy Family a few years on from the birth of Jesus, with Mary a mature woman, her young son already seeming to have some characteristics of adulthood, and both parents mystified as they contemplate the words of a book. In the background is a strange figure urging silence.

The drama lies in the mystery. Mary has to keep silent, it seems, though she knows things she cannot even tell her son. So Casken’s music is about her thoughts, and they tumble out one after another. The orchestral palette is wide (though flute-less as well as trombone-less), particularly in the percussion, with its repeated ‘Shhh…’ sounds, and the rhythms are complex.

Needless to say, the solo was played flawlessly. I don’t know whether the composer was forcing the trombone into notes beyond its ‘official’ range, as Holloway seemed to do with the trumpet, but if so they were no problem for Katy Jones. The orchestra has much to attend to, and Jamie Phillips had them well prepared.

With rather fewer of them, he had the same in store for Mozart’s three-movement Symphony no. 31 (the ‘Paris’), which opened proceedings. The opening movement was neat and deft – the strings full of impact as Paul Barritt led – the slow one elegant in its ‘sensibility’ style, and the finale lively fun.

After the interval came Prokoviev’s Symphony no. 5, resplendent with 60 strings, its triple woodwind, full brass and cohort of percussion. It dates from the end of the Second World War and the language is clearly that of the composer of the Romeo and Juliet ballet. In fact the second movement material was apparently designed for that work. It passed the test of morale-boosting uplift at the time, with its hymn-like phrases in the opening movement, a relatively brisk lament (in Phillips’ hands) which becomes a triumphant one for the third, and plenty of tub-thumping in the last.

It was loud and positive and no doubt meant to be. If that finale had been by Shostakovich it would have sounded ironic, but Prokoviev repeats his jolly tune so much it seems he must have meant it. 

          

Jamie Phillips (left) and John Casken (right)