Ad Absurdum
City Halls, Glasgow 31/1/25
Scottish Chamber Orchestra
Maxim Emelyanychev conductor, Sergei Nakariakov trumpet
The night of 31st January saw the Scottish Chamber Orchestra under their Principal Conductor Maxim Emelyanychev return to Glasgow’s City Halls in a programme of modern works mostly in a whimsical vein, challenging the boundaries and conventions of their genres. The tagline ‘Ad Absurdum’ was not just an expression of this irreverent creativity, but also the title of Jörg Widmann’s 2002 trumpet concerto, written for the Russian-born Israeli virtuoso trumpeter Sergei Nakariakov, who played the piece with the orchestra before the interval. Another Widmann work, his 2008 concert overture after Beethoven, ‘Con brio’ was performed after the interval. The concert opened with an early James MacMillan work, his ‘Tryst’ from 1989, and concluded with John Adams’ 1992 Chamber Symphony. Principal violist Max Mandel introduced the programme. Attendance was disappointingly sparse.
If a ‘tryst’ is a prearranged meeting or assignation, MacMillan’s ‘Tryst’ is a meeting of influences and styles. The thematic core comes from an earlier setting of a William Souter poem ‘The Tryst’ and the stylistic elements include (somewhat obliquely) traditional Scottish laments, both liturgical and profane music of devotional fervour and intimacy, all with a pervasive melancholy, In a single movement but with 5 clear sections, there is (as always with MacMillan, in my experience) a compelling sense of narrative: something is always happening to hold the attention and there is a sense of progress towards a conclusion (not always guaranteed with some modern composers, alas) and no sense of the music continuing (as Stravinsky famously lamented) long after it was finished. The thrilling rhythmic introduction is followed by a concertino where peremptory strings and conciliatory winds effectively influence each other to the point where they swap roles (ingenious and very Beethovenian!). The slower pastoral central section is the most overtly melodic and least troubled and is followed by a rhythmic development of the theme very suggestive of traditional dance music. The final section is ‘chase’ music but with calmer slower interludes, calls on the clarinets suggestive of seagulls, winding down to a morendo ending on cellos with a timpani roll. A super piece. The composer, who has a long association with the SCO, was present and came to the stage to embrace the conductor and acknowledge the applause. Not strictly within the ‘Ad Absurdum’ theme, but a great concert-opener given a convincing and committed outing.
If humour often arises from incongruous juxtaposition, then the absurdly impossible stunts found in tongue-in-cheek comedic action films might find parallels in the performance of concertante music. Widmann’s score for ‘ad absurdum’ does just that, with the solo trumpet part (and indeed much of the orchestral music) driven to the edge of playability and beyond. The Prestissimo sempre pulse of the single-movement work is relentless, while, apart from a couple of brief respites (while the orchestral players continue the barrage) and a brief lyrical passage, the soloist delivers a uniformly rapid succession of notes spat out like bullets from a machine gun, so closely that a pointillist illusion of continuity almost emerges. Timbral colour was also further enriched with scurrying passages for xylophone and other tuned percussion (George Barton), two fabulous timpani cadenzas (Louise Lewis Goodwin) and even a run for synthesiser (Simon Smith). Leader for the night, Stephanie Gonley, sat this piece out and deskmate Afonso Fesch led. Trumpet soloist Sergei Nakariakov delivered a phenomenal performance, looking entirely unfazed and almost nonchalant. His virtuosity was entirely matched by the players of the orchestra. I could imagine a critic wanting to paraphrase Bosquet with “C'est magnifique, mais ce n'est pas la musique”, but honestly I found the stunt piece exciting, thrilling and immensely pleasurable, even as it finally runs out of steam and descends to a quiescent bass note at the end. I would place it in the BBB category: “bonkers but brilliant”. Expertly held together by Maxim Emelyanychev.
In much the same category was the other Widmann piece, ‘Con Brio’, commissioned by the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra to accompany a complete cycle of Beethoven’s symphonies: it was intended for a concert featuring the Seventh and Eighth. Various Beethovenian tropes, such as sforzando orchestral chords and semi-quoted fragments of cadential melody, some scampering, some lyrical, are embedded in the very modern, daring texture of Widmann’s own music. Over two short movements, there is a sense of a wary, mistrustful dialogue between the two composers, both revolutionary and rebellious in their way, but neither conceding primacy. Lots of unusual timbral effects, such as the timpanist coaxing sounds from an unseen ‘instrument’ (possibly a sheet of metal) and a clarinettist sliding a brush up and down the bore of the instrument. One could imagine the irascible ‘Great Mogul’ being simultaneously disapproving and intrigued. Again, very enjoyable and, for a third time, a piece that ended quietly (an uneasy truce?).
John Adams’ three-movement Chamber Symphony had an unusual gestation. He was studying the score for Schoenberg’s Chamber Symphony while his young son in the neighbouring room was watching 1950s cartoons on TV. It occurred to him that the Schoenberg and cartoon music, though totally different, had in common hyperactivity, insistent aggression and acrobatics. He was tickled by the idea of combining the two styles in ‘incongruous juxtaposition’. The piece is scored for a small 15-member ensemble which includes drumkit and synthesiser, flute/piccolo, oboe, 2 clarinets doubling E-flat and bass instruments, bassoon and contrabassoon, trumpet, horn and trombone, violin, viola, cello and double-bass. The movements have whimsical titled: ‘Mongrel Airs’, ‘Aria with Walking Bass’ and ‘Roadrunner’. Adams acknowledges the influence on this mischievous music of Milhaud’s ‘La création du monde’, Stravinsky's Octet and ‘L’histoire du soldat’, and Hindemith's ‘Kleine Kammermusik’. Despite a quite intricate and complex structure full of half-quotations (I am sure I heard Woody Woodpecker) and very demanding of the virtuosity of the players, I found it a thoroughly enjoyable work – and the last movement had the first and only wild finish of the evening. An ingeniously-devised programme of intriguingly witty music, played with skill and commitment. Excellent.