.jpg)
Thomas Adès had the audience on his side
even before the music began at the Bridgewater Hall. He made a brief
announcement that the order of two pieces in the concert’s first half, one by
Kaija Saariaho and one by himself called America: A Prophecy, would be
reversed from what was indicated in the printed programme. “So,” he dryly
observed, “tonight we are not putting America first.” Cue cheering
and applause – a reflection of our times.
The second part of the concert was an
outstanding performance of Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring. It’s a
cliché to say that it still has power to shock even more than 100 years after
its riotous premiere, but to gain its full effect it requires an orchestra of
virtuoso standard and a conductor who knows exactly how he wants it to sound in
every astonishing detail. For this it had both – the Hallé, led by Roberto
Ruisi, were completely committed, and Adès is a master of clarity and
imagination.
But the more intriguing experiences in the
concert were in the first half, and had a connecting link in that they were
each written for a particular juncture in recent time. They may therefore seem
to fade in their significance as we move into the second quarter of the
century, but their choice made for thoughtful reflection on the way we were in
1999 and 2020 – and how we are now.
Two of these works were originally
commissioned by Kurt Masur and the New York Philharmonic to be “Messages for
the Millennium” as it turned. Kaija Saariaho’s Oltra Mar (subtitled Seven
Preludes for the new Millennium) is a choral work with its four
odd-numbered sections including wordless singing and being about travelling and
the sea, said Saariaho in her own programme note (the title being Old French
for “Across the sea”). The second, fourth and sixth sections set words in
French derived from texts from different times and places on the themes of
Love, Time and Death. Deep stuff, indeed, for a juncture in history. There is
much in common in the language of the first three and the final one, and the
fifth is very short, so the overall shape feels more like that of an asymmetric
arch, sustained notes slowly creating chords in the early part, faster tempi
and stronger rhythms intervening, brief phrases creating a sense of foreboding
as the subject becomes Death, and a final return to the atmosphere of the opening.
There are huge contrasts and highly dramatic moments.
If that was all suffused with fatalism,
Adès’s own “prophecv” for the 21st century – revised only last year,
in a version for soprano plus large chorus and (very large) orchestra, and
jointly commissioned by the Gewandhausorchester Leipzig, the Cleveland
Orchestra and the Hallé – told us it would all end in tears. This was the UK
premiere of the new version.
The original was around 15 minutes long and
written for soprano soloist and optional chorus. This version took around 22
minutes and is apparently designed to hammer home the message implicit in texts
referring to the Spanish conquest of Central and South America in the 15th
and 16th centuries, the resulting destruction of Maya civilization
and the apocalyptic devastation wrought by those who used Christian ideas as a
justification for heartless militarism. “Ash feels no pain”, as one of those texts puts it.
The solo singing from Anna Dennis (pictured below) – in a
role calling for pure strength and total accuracy – was outstanding: a good
deed in a very nasty world. The Hallé Choir’s performance was excellent … would
that the work’s message were different.
But the concert began in innocent
simplicity. Adès’s Dawn: A chacony for orchestra at any distance was a
product of the Covid lockdown of 2020, written for the BBC Proms (when concerts
were delivered to an empty hall, you may well remember). It’s specified that
the orchestra can be of flexible size and players can be placed around the hall
in any way. The music is endearingly simple, slow “white notes” lines layered
over each other: the ground a descending sequence and the orchestration (which
includes a cymbalom along with plentiful other percussion) gradually thickening
to a splendid resolution.
The positioning, seen today as rather
random beaming-up of various players to different parts of the choir and
high-level audience seating, doesn’t seem to make much difference. The textural
effect is skilfully created, though, and rewarding.
.jpg)
