Intermezzo

Thomas Quasthoff's Creation at the Barbican

Die Schöpfung - Freiburger Barockorchester / Jacobs - Barbican, 10 January 2009

Despite some scrappy playing here and there, and some downright weird directorial interventions - tinkly salon-style fortepiano interludes, anyone? - the Freiburg Baroque's performance of Haydn's Creation under René Jacobs was rescued by its compelling warmth and joie de vivre. This was largely down to the star soloist, Thomas Quasthoff, whose choice of programme it was.

His voice may lack those dark treacly depths but he knows how to reach out and draw an audience in. Though the vocal parts here have names, the characterisation is embedded more in the text. Quasthoff delivered every word with consideration. The menagerie of of the sixth day was evinced with especial relish, ending with a truly subterranean worm buried deep beneath the stave. 

The other soloists couldn't match his exuberance, but they coped ably with their parts, and their restraint provided a fitting counterbalance. Julia Kleiter sang sweetly and clearly, even though the acreage of la Ceci-style embellishment prescribed by Jacobs threatened to overwhelm her resources at times. Maximilian Schmitt started brilliantly, and though he lost focus a bit towards the end, he sang with poise and clarity, and his straightforward sincerity was affecting.

The decision to split the RIAS-Kammerchor into two wings, sopranos and tenors to one side, altos and basses to the other, was not entirely successful from the perspective of those of us not sitting dead-centre in the hall. I was only a few seats away from the centre, but the balance was terrible, entirely weighted to the closest wing, so I can only imagine what the people at the very sides heard. The Barbican acoustics are not kind to such experiments.

But the choir lived up to their reputation as one of the best, with a fantastically well-drilled performance. And what a pleasure to hear the German sung by natives, so uniformly articulated that it could be followed easily without the programme to hand.

The orchestral machine was less well-oiled - intonation, ensemble, balance - all went out of the window at some point or other. But zippy pace and spunky playing enlivened Jacobs's rococo confection, and though I'm no fan of period performance for its own sake, here the details - the lively gut strings, the velvety wood flute, the peremptory rattle of the hard sticks on the timpani - lent such freshness and character that the niggles could be overlooked.

 

 

  

LSO's Creation - nearly quite good actually

Haydn: The Creation - LSO/Davis - Barbican, 7 October 2007

The LSO managed a pretty good turnout for tonight's performance of Haydn's Creation considering the competing attractions of the LPO's birthday celebrations at the Royal Festival and a rare Thomas Quasthoff jazz concert at the Wigmore Hall. Once again Evgeny Kissin was a welcome addition to the audience. And BBC cameras too -- the concert was recorded for future transmission (no date fixed yet) on BBC4.

Last year the Barbican staged a Gabrieli Consort performance of the Creation sung in the English biblical/Milton text which originally inspired Haydn. Tonight's version used the German text Haydn actually set, economically combined with a moderately sized orchestra and just three soloists, who doubled up on the five vocal parts.

For all Sir Colin Davis's baton-swinging enthusiasm, the LSO struck a rather subdued Sunday-nighter note, with a few glaring errors of ensemble suggesting a lack of concentration. The London Symphony Chorus were more animated, if not quite as slickly rehearsed as I've seen them of late.

This oratorio is more or less through-sung, so it weighs heavily on the soloists' shoulders -- luckily Sir Colin had engaged a crack team. Sally Matthews scored maximum glamour points, wrapped in red and white taffeta and weighed down in Mikey. Her even, luxuriant ice-cream tone and leisured phrasing lent a celestial purity to her parts, though her strange swoops and twirls were a distracting visual counterpoint.

Dietrich Henschel was initially very reserved, even opting to close his eyes when he wasn't singing. Was he lost in rapture, did he just need the sleep, or are were the audience really that scary? Once thawed out, his attractively dry baritone was subtly nuanced, alert to all the expressive possibilities of the text, and particularly charming as he painted a list of animals.

Ian Bostridge most uncharacteristically barked and shouted his way through the first hour, where, unfortunately, most of his solos were placed. When he suddenly rediscovered his voice in the Mit Wurd und Hoheit aria, it was like a ray of sunshine, and left Henschel so spellbound that he failed to rise from his seat for his own immediately following solo until an impatient chord from the harpsichord continuo summoned him. Bostridge was back to heartstoppingly beautiful top form for his just two solos which followed, but I couldn't help regretting the lost opportunity of the first half.

Whatever any individual shortcomings were, in each of the several trios, the soloists displayed an inspired sensitivity and balance, slotting together to almost freakish perfection.

I'd love to hear the same team tackle this again -- all the right ingredients are in place, and it's just unfortunate that they didn't meld together consistently in this performance.