Scottish Chamber Orchestra: Music of the Imagination with Thomas Adès

Queen’s Hall - 11/04/24

Scottish Chamber Orchestra | Thomas Adès, conductor | Emma Posman, soprano

Tonight’s concert looked on paper to be a curious mixture of six shortish works, three from the great classical composers, Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven, and three from the 1990s.  In his programme notes, David Kettle suggests that the pieces are all inspired by other works of the imagination such as “fragments of music or painting.”  Adès, in a short introduction, also mentions fragments, but suggests too that these are pieces which are in some sense still “in the studio,” showing the process of being worked out.

Adès’s comments might have been puzzling had we not already heard the first work on the programme, a warm, secure and clearly directed account of Haydn’s Symphony No 64 ‘Tempora Mutantur’ whose second movement has caused some musical debate.  As Haydn wrote over a hundred symphonies, which laid the foundation of the form for the future, it shouldn’t be surprising that some of them are experimental, a working out of musical ideas that still sound a bit off-beat.  There are thirty players on-stage, strings, with two oboes, two period horns and a bassoon. The first movement Allegro con spirito has plenty of dynamic contrasts and there’s much pleasure to be gained from the rich sound, with lovely string tone under guest leader Maia Cabeza, and wonderful horn playing – a feature of all tonight’s works - from Ken Henderson and Gijs Laceulle.  ‘Tempora Mutantur’ (times change) was Haydn’s own name for the symphony, and in the largosecond movement he plays with our concepts of time – teasing out a lovely phrase on the strings and then pausing before another phrase takes over.  It is easy to let this odd sequence drag, but Adès demonstrates the underlying flow in the music, teasing out the melody, and, especially after the winds are brought in part-way through, the movement becomes tender and moving.  The minuet is a no-nonsense riposte to all this, though there are some quirky horn twiddles in the trio, and the presto finale is delivered with gusto.

The orchestra increases slightly in size with the addition of clarinets, flutes and another bassoon for John Woolrich’s ‘The Theatre Represents a Garden: Night’ – the title comes from the stage directions for Act IV of ‘The Marriage of Figaro.’  In this commission for the ‘Mozart Now Festival’ in 1991, Woolrich stipulated the size of orchestra that Mozart used for his symphonies and beginning with fragments of Barbarina’s and Susanna’s last act arias he writes symphonic music based on these and on unfinished pieces by Mozart, mostly for piano and smaller ensembles.  My son in his teens announced scathingly that all operas are about masked balls – a statement which has some truth in it, especially when applied to Act 4 of ‘Figaro’ which combines playful elements, mis-identification and serious questions about loyalty.  Woolrich’s work raises similar questions about the nature of Mozart’s writing and the job of the re-arranger/composer.  There’s enough in these elaborated fragments which meld into each other for several symphonies and, in a beautiful cameo from Maximiliano Martin, another clarinet concerto. 

Before the interval, we have some real Mozart, Emma Posman singing Concert Aria K 418 ‘Vorrei Spiegarvi, oh Dio!’ (Let me explain, Oh God).  The soprano is described as having a “hybrid voice”, presumably referring to her high top notes and her alto-like lower register, qualities shared I believe by Mozart’s sister-in-law Aloysia, for whom the aria was written.  It earns its place in this concert about fragments because it is an ‘insertion aria’ written to showcase the soprano’s talents in a comic opera by Pasquale Anfossi.   From its pizzicato opening with oboe obbligato, it’s a delightful six minutes, which receives a gorgeous performance from the young Belgian singer.  Sadly even the tumultuous applause could not conjure up an encore.

After the interval Adès plays the world premiere of ‘The Origins of the Harp,’ written, the composer tells us, in lockdown as the orchestral version of his 1994 work for 10 players. The orchestra is the largest used today, with modern trumpets and horns, and two percussionists joining the forces used in the first half.  The There is, symbolically, a harp on stage, but it is not played in the work, which takes its title from a nineteenth century painting by Daniel Maclise, showing the transformation by the gods of a Celtic nymph into a harp. The earlier part of the work represents the struggles of the nymph to leave the water and join her lover on land.  Then follows the crash after which the upper strings, passing around pizzicato phrases from one to the other suggest her metamorphosis into a harp.  The work receives a committed performance from the SCO, but on a first hearing, I found the earlier part of the work unconvincing.

Judith Weir’s 1992 ‘Heroic Strokes of the Bow’ presents a more stirring response to another painting, Paul Klee’s ‘Heroische Bogenstriche’, which, the composer has written, shows a “simple pattern of violin bows and pegs against a hypnotic blue background.”  Her music is “a literal response to the title with its suggestions of excessive physical energy applied to a small piece of wood.”  Trumpet and horn fanfares with rhythmic timpani begin the work, and the string playing is vigorous, with much clashing of bows on the wood of the instruments.  This all creates the feel of a ritual dance, which is interrupted for a delightful interlude of bird-song from the woodwinds. (Weir refers to this as “twittering”) before a return to the rhythmic beats and brass of the opening.  My favourite among today’s 1990’s works!

The brass players pick up their period instruments and harpist Eleanor Hudson takes the stage for the Overture, Adagio and Finale from Beethoven’s 1801 ballet ‘Creatures of Prometheus.’  based on the story about Prometheus forming two humans out of clay who are taken to Olympus to be educated in the arts by the gods. Adès and the SCO provide a fresh account of this familiar music, not just in the rousing Overture and Finale, but also in the serene Adagio where the harp, flute, bassoon and clarinet are eventually joined by a cello solo (Philip Higham).   In the Beethoven Adès conducts, as he has done throughout the evening, with a clear determination to show each work in its best light, no mean feat in a programme which contains three works which are new to most of the audience.  The Beethoven brings the concert to a storming conclusion, and the orchestra and Ades are greeted with well-deserved cheers.