SCO: Sibelius Violin Concerto
City Halls, Glasgow, 17/1/25
Scottish Chamber Orchestra; Joseph Swensen (conductor); Geneva Lewis (violin)
Link: https://www.sco.org.uk/events/sibelius-violin-concerto
Glasgow’s City Halls on the night of Friday 17th January welcomed the Scottish Chamber Orchestra under the baton of SCO’s Conductor Emeritus Joseph Swensen in a programme of works by Grażyna Bacewicz and Jean Sibelius. The headline work, Sibelius’ 1905 Violin Concerto with New Zealand-born violinist Geneva Lewis as soloist, was preceded by Bacewicz’s 1948 Concerto for String Orchestra. After the interval, there was Sibelius’ sublimely enigmatic 1923 Sixth Symphony to look forward to. The hall was far from full, but the attendance was entirely satisfactory (in welcome contrast to the last appearance of Geneva Lewis with the BBCSSO in March, in a sparsely-attended superb performance of the Barber). After the SCO strings had tuned, Joseph Swensen came to the stage with a microphone and spoke genially about the orchestra, their first concert 50 years ago which he had conducted (which included Beethoven’s ‘Eroica’), the 5 players from that concert still performing with the ensemble, and insightfully about the works in the programme. Even with just the strings on stage and before a note was played, it was evident the mutual respect and affection that exists between their charismatic Conductor Emeritus and the orchestra.
For a few years now, Radio 3 has been active in promoting the music of unjustly neglected female composers, none more so than Polish composer and violinist Grażyna Bacewicz. Her inclusion in concert programmes still lags somewhat behind that in radio broadcasts, so this reviewer welcomes any such inclusion, especially as her music has a warmth and rhythmic directness, with engaging wit and rich polyphony in the mix. The Concerto for String Orchestra is a 3-movement work, recalling some of the whimsy of Dag Wirén’s Serenade of 1937, but with richer scoring and a more evocative character. The opening Allegro strode with sprightly vigour and featured some lovely solos from leader Stephanie Gonley and principal cellist Hugh Mackay, often over delicious sul ponticello ‘scrubbing’ from the other players. The Andante was a spectral nocturne with more solo cello and a particularly touching melancholy solo from principal viola Oscar Holch. The jolly scampering Vivo finale, in what I surmise was a 6/8 metre, featured a sweet high cantabile solo from Stephanie’s violin before a thrilling finish. What a super piece! It received a committed and persuasive outing and enthusiastic applause. Appetites roundly whetted.
Scottish audiences are not starved of opportunities to hear the Sibelius Violin Concerto. Only last May, we heard Bomsori Kim, her Guarneri del Gesù and the BBCSSO in a performance which accentuated the romantic elements, while the previous October, Ray Chen’s ‘Dolphin’ Strad with the RSNO gave us a reading that was not without romanticism but accentuated a direct gritty masculinity. I cannot deny that, having heard Geneva Lewis’ Guadagnini in March bringing forth glorious tone with flawless intonation in the Barber, I was anticipating a similar experience with the Sibelius. In the event, the interpretation that unfolded in the first movement mirrored Bomsori’s romanticism, but the tone was even warmer and richer and filled the hall, with phrasing that was both nuanced and revelatory, the moments of dialogue with the instruments of the orchestra exquisitely shaped, including a lovely moment with principal viola, Oscar Holch. The orchestral texture was impassioned where needed, but never at the expense of dynamic balance. The cadenza was broodingly expressive. My favourite part of the first movement, where a slowing arpeggiated major key climb to the high register turns on a sixpence to a chromatic minor key descent on the solo instrument, raised a few goosebumps. Sibelius lets us hear it twice, each time leading to a rustic dance, second time round as a thrilling coda. Superb. The slow movement was achingly beautiful, with lovely sul-G playing at the start and stunningly expressive vibrato. The anxious minor key central section, with its chromatic shifting double-stopped harmonies, was laden with pathos and, to my ear, even a touch more moving than Bomsori’s in May, supported by a throbbing pulse from the double basses and perfectly pointed rubato, echoed in the closing bars of the movement. The perfectly-chosen tempo of the dancelike finale’s opening promised a joyous romp with a sense of playful abandon, which was then delivered, with playing that was sprightly and agile. The orchestral climax was thoroughly thrilling, as was the coda. The Glasgow audience knew it had experienced something very special and the applause was tumultuous. And there was still the symphony to come.
All 7 of Sibelius’ symphonies are dear to me, but the Sixth occupies a special place in my heart and I think it is probably my favourite (except possibly whenever I’ve just heard the Seventh). In his introductory remarks to the concert, Joseph Swensen said that the symphony, more than any other of Sibelius’ works, presents an empathetic and compassionate picture of neurodiversity, with obsessive, fixated material presented, not as nightmarish captivity, but as a sharply-focused and enthralled appreciation of natural beauty. Although I’ve never seen it in quite those terms before, I have to agree. Sibelius’ music often takes us to cold, desolate, lonely places, seemingly oblivious of and, at best, indifferent to the human observer. At worst, the landscapes are malevolent and lethal. There is, it seems to me, a deliberate ambiguity about whether the landscapes are of the planet, of the mind, or both. In the Fourth Symphony and ‘Tapiola’ respectively, I sense a mental and a terrestrial landscape that is able and willing to kill. In the Sixth, images of Spring abound, with running water, plant life being reborn and insects buzzing about obsessively. I always feel my mental state reassured and cleansed after hearing it, my mind an altogether safer place to dwell. It was thus and to the fullest extent with the SCO performance in a shared vision guided by Joseph Swensen’s insights. The wistful fragility of the opening was suffused with radiant beauty, while the transition to bright and breezy fecundity was magical, with lovely harp playing from Sharron Griffiths. The 4+1 horns breathed a contented sigh before the first movement faded. The slow movement is the most obsessive, a melody at first barely emerging from the repeated fragments. The faster, delicately fluttering central section was the slowest I’ve ever heard it, while the closing bars were so fragile as to seem to fade out of existence. The scampering, playful Poco vivace scherzo frames an obsessive march-like interlude, before a riotous coda whoops to the only big finish in the work. Wistful string polyphony and wind lyricism conversed at the beginning of the finale in a lovely chamber reading. An obsessive quick section runs out of steam before an exquisite polyphonic melancholy sigh on strings (foretelling a more anguished similar peroration in the Seventh) prepares us for the quiet valedictory end. There is no resolution and no triumph. All that needs to be said has been said. An unforgettably profound performance. As the applause thundered, Joseph Swensen wandered amongst the players, thanking some, embracing others, visibly moved. Human warmth seemed to radiate from the stage to the furthest recesses of the hall.
Joseph Swensen had promised earlier that there would be a ‘pick-me-up’ encore to lighten the mood after the symphony. I don’t know what I was expecting, but Sibelius’ rather macabre ‘Valse Triste’ was definitely not it, despite its enduring popularity. It was, however, beautifully played with exquisite delicacy and rubato. The artistic partnership between the orchestra and their Conductor Emeritus endures as a national treasure. I last experienced it two years ago in a New Year’s Concert. I hope it won’t be another two-year wait for the next time.