Intermezzo

2009 Proms to cost more for the poor

The Proms must be suffering from rising costs like everyone else. So it's to the BBC's credit that they've managed to hold most 2009 ticket prices at 2008 levels, including season tickets.

But what a shame that the only price increases - of up to 20% - are on the cheapest tickets. A seat in the airy reaches of the Royal Albert Hall's top deck, the Circle, now costs between £1 and £5 more than it did last year. And the concerts in the lowest price band, G - the new music, the late nights, the family shows, the hard sells, the really interesting stuff -  have gone up from £10 to £12.

A couple of quid might not sound like much. The people who are happy to pay upwards of £40 for the best seats probably wouldn't even notice it - so why wasn't it stuck on those tickets instead?

For the students, old people, families and low paid who go for the cheapest seats because that's all they can afford, it can be a real dent in the wallet.  

And a price increase of 20% on the family concerts, which are specifically designed to introduce young people to classical music, simply beggars belief.

Wasn't the original idea behind the Proms to make music more accessible for everyone? 

Has Roger Wright really thought this through?

At best it's a PR blunder, at worst it's a betrayal of the entire spirit of the Proms. 

Ye olden Proms

"the Prom. audience as a whole seems unchangeable"

"the promenaders....are most restless near the numerous doorways or in the corridor outside. That is, by the way, the first peculiar characteristic of the audience: it does - some of it does - promenade. Not merely between the items, but during the items. And a blighting nuisance it can be, what with squeaky shoes and heavy treads and creaking or thudding doors! Even if you are fortunate enough to be standing towards the centre of the floor, wedged there, shall we say, on a crowded night, so that you are not troubled by movement around you, you are liable to suffer the equal annoyance of whispering, or, often enough, downright talking. I have yet to attend a concert of any kind in London at which I shall be from beginning to end completely free from the disturbance  of whispering. But the Prom. audience is far and away the worst I have encountered for that kind of incivility, indulging, as I have said, not merely in whispering, but in talking aloud whenever it thinks it will."

"Proms. are, however, frequented quite largely by almost completely unmusical people."

"To imagine that constant attendance will develop in them any qualitative standards, or even will jade their appetite, is very wide of the mark. They are, in fact, quite devoid of critical sense and enjoy a limitless relish for any and every kind of musical sound that is, so far as I can judge, unparalleled in any other imaginable sphere. The fattest and greediest of boys will sicken of sweets; the leanest of cats will reach the point at which he can turn away from fish; but London harbours a certain number of enthusiasts whose zest for music of all types, performed at almost every interpretative and technical level except the very best (which scarcely ever occurs at a Prom.-the circumstances are not conducive in any way) is to all appearance quite inexhaustible."

"they are smug; and it must be confessed that the kind of publicity they receive in the Press leaves them little chance of being anything else."

"Probably there are, finally, quite a sprinkling of people who, like myself, at each Prom. they go to swear it will be their last.. . . But too much interesting music is played there that can practically never be heard otherwise for our vows ever to be kept." 

***********************************

All quotations from (note the date!):

The Prom. Audience Ralph W. Wood Music & Letters, Vol. 11, No. 2 (Apr., 1930), pp. 177-181  Published by Oxford University Press

With the appropriate credentials, the full article can be accessed online here:
http://ml.oxfordjournals.org/cgi/content/citation/XI/2/177

or here:
http://www.jstor.org/pss/726348 (this link also includes an extract of the first page)

Proms blessed by Messiaen's Saint Francis of Assisi

Prom 70: Messiaen's Saint-François d'Assise - Royal Albert Hall, 7 September 2008

Unquestionably the best Prom of the season - by a mile - in fact the best Prom I've ever been to. Messiaen's operatic meditation on the life of St Francis of Assisi is four and half hours of the most astonishing musical invention, here realised vividly and passionately by the Netherlands Opera.

Why the 'experts' in the pre-performance talk (supposedly playing for team Messiaen) felt the need to join the consensus and apologise for its length and supposed lack of pace I don't know. They seemed embarrassed about the limited enthusiasm they did show. This sort of dispassionate cynicism may constitute a legitimate perspective on the work from an academic viewpoint, but with barely a quarter (if that) of the seats sold, what it really needed instead was some good old-fashioned cheerleading from a point of authority.

There may not be a lot going on in the text, but there's a musical narrative more gripping and eventful than anything I've ever heard, teeming with detail. Messiaen worked on it for many years and the result is a work that despite its length and colossal orchestration is shorn of any excess. Every detail fits as neatly as a leaf on a tree.

Conductor Ingo Metzmacher marshalled his huge orchestral forces heroically. There were ondes Martenot tucked away in the side balconies, and a massive choir too. And despite some the odd late entry or rough patch - nothing less than you'd get from any orchestra over half a day of solid playing - there was never the sense that they were playing with anything less than total commitment.

The strange and beautiful 'Angel's viol' music, exquisitely realised on the ondes Martenot and a cluster of strings and winds was a magical highlight in the middle of the work. St Francis's sermon to the birds, with its streaming concatenation of orchestrally-simulated birdsong, was, despite the 'experts' pre-show warnings, fascinating in its dense complexity. And the mighty, blinding, deafening finale exploded with all the joy and profound faith Messiaen had brought to it.

The marvellous, minimalist staging, just a few benches and crude crosses set in front of the orchestra, was enough to suggest the events occuring. More importantly, it provided a context for the wonderful soloists to create their roles.

The voice of Rod Gilfry, as St Francis, started to give out towards the end of the second act, but this was covered by some sympathetic volume from Metzmacher, and barely detracted from a moving and authoritative performance that derived its intensity from its stillness.

The simple black and white costumes mostly worked, and though Heidi Grant Murphy resembled the Dental Hygienist of the Lord in her all-white ensemble, the sweetness and purity of her voice raised her Angel to the heavens.

It's a shame so few people made the trip to see it, but the few hundred who were there gave it a louder and definitely more heartfelt reception than many full-house concerts. It desperately needs to be staged in this country again - and soon.

 

 

 

 

Berliner Philharmoniker - beautiful isn't always best

Proms 64 and 65: Berliner Philharmoniker / Simon Rattle - Royal Albert Hall, 2 and 3 September 2008

Wagner Tristan und Isolde - Prelude and Liebestod, Messiaen Turangalîla Symphony

Brahms Symphony No.3, Shostakovich Symphony No.10

If you've ever seen photos of Simon Rattle in action, you might assume he just stands there with his gob gated open all night, like an angler fish on the ocean bed. In reality, he talks non-stop, or at least mouths. I wish I could lip read. I'm pretty sure I caught a couple of "help me"s but the rest is a mystery.

I was able to study the Rattle platform manner at close hand on Tuesday night from my surprisingly pricy (£23) seat in the choir stalls, tucked behind the Berlin Philharmonic's gleaming tubular bells and pleasingly close to the Berlin motor itself, the tigerish growl of the basses.

Of course a lot of water can be lost through an open mouth. That's why marathon runners keep theirs shut, and overheated doggies don't.

No wonder Sir Simon needed a mini-break halfway through the hour-plus Turangalîla Symphony to chug back some water behind the piano, coaxing the obliging violas into a bit of quite unnecessary 'retuning' to cover.

It was a wonderfully lucid account of this lengthy and problematical, inherently episodic work. If talent borrows and genius steals, then Messiaen could be a musical Einstein. Rattle drew out the direct quotations from Wagner's Tristan more clearly than I've ever heard before - and of course it did no harm to hear the wellspring itself, exquisitely presented, at the start of the evening.

Messiaen's anointed, Pierre-Laurent Aimard at the piano and Tristan Murail at the ondes Martenot, brought a special authority. Where the work could have tipped over into Gershwin-pastiche vulgarity, Rattle wisely settled on festive exuberance.  

There was a more honed predictability about the second concert. Despite the near-perfection of the orchestra's playing - or perhaps because of it - Rattle seemed content to lay back and bathe in the immaculately polished sound.  While there's nothing wrong with loveliness for its own sake, I find this orchestra at their best when they're nearer the edges of their comfort zone, as they were with the previous night's Messiaen.

 

  

 

Sir Colin Davis shares his kebab

Prom 62: Gustav Mahler Jugendorchester / Sir Colin Davis / Nikolaj Znaider - Royal Albert Hall, 1 September 2008

Celebrity cook books tend to be denigrated, even dismissed out of hand, often by people you'd expect to have more inquiring minds. But they can offer unique insights - social, cultural, even psychological. Especially when it comes to musicians, constantly probed about their work, rarely asked about themselves.

The recipe Sir Colin Davis contributed to a 1971 compilation by Adrian Ball, Food of Love: The Favourite Feasts of World's Music-Makers, demonstrates that there's more to rice than throwing the lid on the pan and letting it boil until half of it turns to mush and the other half sticks to the bottom. In the lengthy preparation, the meticulously detailed instructions, the surprise finishing touch, Sir Colin reveals everything he brought to last night's magnificent performance of Sibelius 2, which can be watched here for the next week.

I give you - Sir Colin's kebab:

Chelo Kebab - Rice with Kebab

Kebab  Marinade for 2 hours or more 2 pounds of lamb cut from the leg or 2 pounds of fillet steak (cut into suitable pieces for skewering) in 4 tablespoons of cooking Sherry, 2 tablespoons of olive oil, 1/2 teaspoon of pepper, 1 small onion and 2 cloves of garlic, finely grated.

Skewer the meat and grill fiercely both sides for 5 minutes. Sprinkle with salt before serving.

Rice 1 pound of rice washed and soaked in generously salted warm water for 2 hours or more. Bring to the boil 3 pints of water. Strain the water from the rice and put soaked rice into boiling water. Bring back to boil and cook for 2 minutes. Strain rice through colander. Put 1 cup of water into an empty saucepan with 6oz of butter and bring to the boil. Return three-quarters of this to the cup.

Place the strained rice carefully into the saucepan. Replace lid and leave it on a low gas for 5 minutes. Pour the liquid in the cup carefully over the rice, wrap lid in a small towel, and press it firmly home. Reduce gas to a minimum and brew for half an hour.

Serve the rice with a raw yolk of egg hidden in the hot rice for each person. A green salad of lettuce, green peppers and cucumber does no harm.

Serve with a light burgundy. And the music to play? Absolutely none according to Sir Colin. And quite right, too.

No cowpats allowed

PCM 7: Nash Ensemble / Mark Padmore - Cadogan Hall, 1 September 2008

The Monday lunchtime Cadogan Hall chamber concerts may be shoved into the corner of the Proms schedules but they offer up some rare treats.

First up was the rarely-heard Clarinet Quintet by Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, a fellow student of Vaughan Williams. Its gentle charm is spread rather thinly over its thirty-odd minutes. Although this particular line up of the fluidly-staffed Nash Ensemble was sensitive and well-balanced and most certainly did the work justice, it's not one I'll be rushing to hear again any time soon.

Before Mark Padmore could sing, he had to submit to interrogation on teh Poetry of AE Housman and teh Landscapes of Vaughan Williams by some red-socked, wind-stuffed Uncle Monty from Radio 3 - fascinating for us in the audience, but not the kindest way to prepare for half an hour of singing.

It was also an opportunity to study Mark Padmore's latest hair escapade, this time a number 2/beardlet combo that looked like he'd sprayed his head with superglue and rolled in iron filings. He's lucky the photo hasn't come out too well.

He's an old hand at On Wenlock Edge, and consistently proves that it's one of Vaughan Williams's most underrated works. Its pastoral lyricism is undercut with bitterness and foreboding, brilliantly revealed in the dramatic extremes of Padmore's performance. The arrangement is for strings is sometimes bizarre and exploratory, often penetratingly evocative, and the Nash Ensemble again displayed great sensitivity.

Worth missing lunch for.

Proms part whatever - Lang Lang turns piano daddy; Verdi's blockbuster Requiem

Prom 60: Lang Lang / Marc Yu
and
Prom 61: Verdi's Requiem - BBCSO/Bělohlávek / Urmana / DeYoung / Calleja / d'Arcangelo - Royal Albert Hall, 31 August 2008

Mozart Sonata No.13 in B flat major, K.333
Rachmaninov Prelude in G minor, Op.23 No.5; Prelude in Bb Major, Op.23 No.2
Chopin Grand Polonaise in E-flat major
Schubert Fantasia in F minor for piano duet, D940
Debussy Preludes, Book 1 - La fille aux cheveux de lin; Les collines d'Anacapri
Traditional Chinese Moonlight Reflections; Spring Dance
Liszt transc. Horowitz Hungarian Rhapsody No.2, S.244
Encore: Chopin Étude Op.10 No.3 in E major

Why would Lang Lang want to share the stage with a child pianist? Marc Yu is undeniably gifted and technically brilliant - for a 9 year old - but nowhere near the finished article. He's got all the moves, but nothing more than accomplished mimicry to present. And to be ruthlessly objective, with his miniature hands, most of the serious concert repertoire is simply beyond his physical capabilities right now anyway. Some day he might be the next Barenboim, but right now he's a novelty act, a mini-maestro in a tiny black suit.

Giving over a substantial chunk of his recital time to a duet with little Marc was generous of Lang Lang, but it also switched the focus unequivocally from performance to performer. Hardly the smartest move when you're repeatedly criticised for insubstantial showboating.

I hear something in Lang Lang that makes me think he's an immensely talented and, yes, sensitive pianist, but his frustratingly blingy performances are more often dazzling than illuminating.

He began promisingly with a Mozart sonata - hardly a revelatory performance, but at least it wasn't thumped out like the crudely-hewn Rachmaninov that followed. Coordination was surprisingly poor in the centrepiece Schubert duet - very much two pianists rather than four hands.

Lizst's gloriously bright and splashy Hungarian Rhapsody is perfectly tailored to the ever-present showman in Lang Lang, but it was only with the Chopin, and particularly the E major Étude he encored with, that there was a glimpse of sensitivity and true accomplishment.

When I arrived, a couple of hours before the start, the day tickets queue was already stretching way down Prince Consort Road. As anyone could have predicted with one of the world's most popular pianists on the bill.

But TV is God, and so at least a hundred queuers were excluded because the piano was placed, not on the normal stage, but on a camera-friendly makeshift platform that is normally standing space in the centre of the Arena (and which also compelled the performers to enter through the audience).

Even though the TV cameras left with Lang Lang, the d-i-y boxing ring was still in place for the evening performance of Verdi's Requiem, again squeezing some concert goers out, and crushing the rest of us into the whiffy armpits of our fellow prommers. Sometimes I wonder why the BBC don't just do the whole thing from a studio. But at least it was a rewarding performance.

With a double choir of nearly 300, the explosive Dies irae had undeniable impact, though the quieter choral moments lumbered unwieldily, dragging at the skirts of what was otherwise a sprightly reading. Bělohlávek lit a fire under the BBCSO, and the soloists were excellent.

Michelle DeYoung's otherwordly radiance was a slightly odd match with bingo gran Violeta Urmana's more traditionally operatic approach, and they sounded better alone than together. Urmana's final Libera me was a heartfelt and moving prayer, bravely nuanced. Though some thin top notes marked her limits, this was the best singing I've heard from her in a long time.

Joseph Calleja's ringing, flexible tenor was, oddly, more imposing than the anxious-looking Ildebrando d'Arcangelo's light bass. And both shrivelled like shrimps before the might of Urmana, but otherwise these were both thoughtful and well-judged ensemble performances. 

 

 

Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody performed by a true master. Including a lesson on handling pesky coughers at 1:10:

All new Gürzenich Orchestra - now with added Stockhausen !!

Prom 48: Gürzenich Orchestra / Stenz / Kirchschlager - Royal Albert Hall, 22 August 2008

Mahler Symphony No.5 
Stockhausen Punkte (1952/1962/1993)
Schubert Ständchen, D921 orch. David Matthews, Bei dir allein, D866/2 orch. Manfred Trojahn, Nacht und Träume, D827 orch. Colin Matthews, Das Lied im Grünen, D917 orch. Detlev Glanert
Beethoven Overture 'Leonore' No.3

This was perhaps the oddest-looking but most fascinating programme at this year's Proms. 

Mahler's Fifth Symphony was premiered by Cologne's Gürzenich Orchestra in 1904, and the first idea for tonight's Prom was to reproduce that programme. Then new orchestrations were commissioned for the Schubert songs, performed at the 1904 concert with piano accompaniment. Conductor Markus Stenz wanted to add something by Cologne-born Stockhausen, as 22 August would have been the exact date of his 80th birthday. So we ended up with a two-interval concert, the old programme sandwiched with Stockhausen.

The big symphony came first, 70-ish minutes of non-stop music, in a reversal of the modern day practice which normally places it at the end. Or was it? We nowadays often programme the new stuff at the start of the night - and that's just what they did in 1904, before soothing the duly baffled Cologne audience with some more familiar Schubert and Beethoven. If nothing else, tonight's programming highlighted that even the most venerable of chestnuts were new once.

As once was Stockhausen's Punkte - but that was nearly sixty years ago. Unremarkably, the ageing Mahler fans who form a large part of the Arena audience came out with the usual lame jokes and mutterings. But to their credit, the vast majority returned from the bar after the interval for the Stockhausen. A few passive-aggressive old bats chose to demonstrate their superior musical tastes by ostentatiously rustling their boiled sweets and Sudoku 'books' throughout, but the vast majority stood there silently and perhaps attentively, prepared at least to give the music a chance.

I doubt if many were converted - Punkte is one of the early works where musical effect is subsumed to the underlying idea, and the idea sustains more like 27 seconds of music than the 27 minutes it extends over. Although Stockhausen went back later and revised the work, it remains, despite a supple and accurate performance by the Gürzenich, largely dry and unrewarding. "It wasn't flowing" complained a nearby prommer, who unwittingly grasped the Punkt of it all "just a load of different noises with gaps in between".

Stockhausen's legacy is I think better served by the outright sonic manipulation of later works. But Punkte I guess slotted better into this programme, because it deploys relatively conventional orchestral forces. The unconventional but typically thoughtful layout (violins to the right, a harp on each side of the conductor) provided the main foretaste of the spatial soundgames Stockhausen was later to play. 

Orchestrating Schubert lieder is a rather quaint and unfashionable practice, but one that might be worth reviving if cast the songs in a new light.

But all four of the newly-commissioned orchestrations for this evening were dull and formulaic. I've heard more interesting arrangements on ye olde scratchy lieder 78s (and would have been happy to hear these revived - what's the point of revisiting if you're not going to rethink?)

A couple were worse than dull - Colin Matthews' stodgy brass band lullaby for Nacht und Träume entirely missed the point of its hidden death wish, and Detlev Glanert's leaden Das Lied im Grünen had none of the joys of spring.

Careless programme editing didn't help - the text for the Rellstab Ständchen D957 was printed instead of the required (identical in name only) Grillparzer Ständchen D920. (Correct text and original music is here for anyone interested, translation is here, and here's an idea for the editor's Xmas list.)

Angelika Kirchschlager, dressed as everyone's favourite Quality Street, nuts and gooey caramel in a purple wrapper, did her effortful best to project over some unsympathetically dense orchestration. The upper end of her range sparkled. The lower notes, her weak point anyway, often just disappeared. But at least she brought a charm that the grimly serious earlier part of the evening had lacked.

Just when I was thinking the Gürzenich was a fine professional orchestra but nothing more, they surprised by flashing their opera house credentials with a weighty and truly stirring Leonore No.3 Overture to finish, and capped even that with their encore, a nice bit of Parsifal. We were by now more than three hours from the start, but I could happily have stayed for hours more. Why is it only at the Proms, and then only rarely, that we get orchestral concerts of any substantial length?

not so loud Czechs

Prom 47: BBC Symphony Orchestra / Bělohlávek - Royal Albert Hall, 21 August 2008

This was a disappointing evening in many ways, with the sense of an opportunity squandered. One of Dvořák's Slavonic Dances makes an agreeable encore; a stack of eight, particularly when executed with the sort of knackered resignation that was all the BBCSO could muster last night, is about as thrilling as Olympic archery.

But I was more interested in the second half of the programme, a concert version of Janáček's rarely heard opera Osud. Although the programme credited someone for 'concert staging', this seemed to consist only of singers leaving the stage when they weren't required. Otherwise it was largely backs straight, noses in the score, in time-honoured concert performance style.

Just as well really - a large TV screen in the centre of the Arena, facing the performers, blocked a lot of the view for the large number of prommers behind it. I'm not sure why they've suddenly decided they need this for vocal performances at the RAH - there are other (large) screens showing the conductor at the sides, and I've never seen anything similar elsewhere. I'm hoping they'll manage to do without it for the rest of the season - there are enough tall people blocking the view without that to contend with as well.

Osud is an opera with an inconclusive ending about a composer who writes an opera without a last act about a composer whose life mirrors his own. Its drama is elliptical and its libretto often bizarre, but it is redeemed by music as vivid and original as anything else Janáček wrote.

Štefan Margita largely measured up to the technical challenges of the central role of the composer Živny. But there was some wavering and strain at the top, and it needed a voice with more heft and weight than Margita's light and pleasant lyric tenor.

Amanda Roocroft looked terrific in a red strappy gown, but she was barely audible, and unengaging as the composer's love interest, Mila.

Rosalind Plowright, as her crazed mother, was a great improvement - commandingly loud and convincingly bonkers.

The smaller roles, mostly doubled or tripled up, were competently taken, but only Martina Bauerová as Ms Pacovska, Fanča and Souckova really stood out. It struck me that with her native's command of Czech and a clear, resonant tone that easily rode Janáček's extravagant orchestrations, she might have made a better Mila than Roocroft.

The ubiquitous George Longworth, London opera's treble of choice for the past couple of years, took the small part of the child, Doubek - very movingly - but a couple of cracks suggested that this phase of his career may be nearing an end. Still, singers like Peter Auty, Bejun Mehta and even Simon Keenlyside started their singing careers in the short-trousered roles, so there's hope for George yet.

Jordi Savall makes his Proms debut

Proms Chamber Music 5: Jordi Savall - Cadogan Hall, 18 August 2008

Robert de Niro and Neil Tennant Jordi Savall and Rolf Lislevand

Ortiz Passamezzo antico; Folia; Ruggiero Romanesca; Passamezzo moderno
Hume A Souldiers March; Harke, harke; A Souldiers Resolution
Marais Pièces de viole, 3è livre - Prélude; Muzettes I/II; La sautillante
Sanz Jácaras; Canarios
Marais Couplets des Folies d'espagne

What a privilege to spend an hour in the company of the great master of the viola da gamba, Jordi Savall, and how astonishing to discover that after a near-fifty year career he is only now making his Proms debut. 

His technical facility is so ingrained that his instrument seems almost like another limb. But more than that, he has the rare gift of reinventing the music each time he plays it. And that's harder than it seems. The harmonic conventions of his chosen 16-18th century repertoire generate a largely predictable melodic line. But what Savall does is to vary timbre and colour and articulation to such an extent that you truly don't know what's coming next.

So many early music perfomances I've suffered are simply a production line of notes, on a lucky day perked up by a bit of generic sprightliness. Savall on the other hand has technique, scholarship and musicality, his conception encompasses everything from the big picture to the tiniest brushstrokes, and he brings the music completely alive.

With the sympathetic collaboration of Rolf Lislevand on theorbo and guitar (a tiny, twangy relative of the ukulele), he showcased the many guises of the viola da gamba - the near-percussive effects of short, choppy bowing and spiccato in the earlier Spanish work, the longer-bowed, legato styles of the later Marin Marais selections, the novel drum and call effects in Hume's military-inspired pieces.

That we can listen to the Ortiz and Hume works at all is also down to Savall's efforts - he rescued them from dusty library shelves for what was probably their first airing in hundreds of years.

What a tragedy his busy calendar doesn't bring him to London more often.

ISRAEL 1 BABYLON 0 (after extra time)

Prom 41: Belshazzar - OAE / Mackerras - Royal Albert Hall, 16 August 2008

I know how you got here. User stats reveal that the googlers' favourite is topless opera (yawn, here, NSFW), but seekers of the wisdom of teh internets have landed here via everything from Angela Hewitt dress sense to John Tomlinson naked. One of the searches that crops up sporadically but persistently, who knows why, is Charles Mackerras died.

Eh? I can report conclusively to whoever is interested that Sir Charles Mackerras is not only very much alive, but at the age of 82 dispatching a three hour oratorio in the clammy heat of the Royal Albert Hall with laser focus and the energy of a puppy (and a ninja jacket, but I'm not sure how much that helps).

Here, just a couple of nights after the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra's border-busting visit, we were reminded of how far the roots of Middle Eastern conflict stretch back.

Handel's biblical tale relates the fall of Belshazzar's kingdom of Babylon and the freeing of the Jewish people. It sounds unpromisingly stern stuff and perhaps that's why it's not performed often. But Handel constructed a score as dramatic as any opera, short on the narrative twists and turns, but impeccably characterised, melodic and powerful.

The Arena was half empty despite a near sell-out of the seated areas - often the case when people weigh up the prospect of three hours on their hind legs.

Even so, with a huge TV screen at the front of the Arena - providing a view of the conductor for the soloists while blocking it for a lot of prommers - I couldn't see exactly what Sir Charles was up to. But his taut, driven reading spoke for itself. The pace never slackened and the time just whizzed past.

Vocally the night belonged to the rousing and immaculately-schooled chorus, their many contributions hitting the target every time.

Iestyn Davies, fresh from his convincing Proms performance in The Coronation of Poppaea a couple of weeks back, was the pick of the soloists, a honey-toned countertenor who never lets the stubble show vocally. The searches I've had -  Iestyn Davies wife and Iestyn Davies gay - testify to the range of his appeal.

The other countertenor on stage, Bejun Mehta, provided a bright and flinty vocal contrast and some dashing coloratura work, as did the impressive Rosemary Joshua as Nitocris.

I was less convinced on the night by the murky and occasionally insecurely-placed sound of tenor Paul Groves and bass Robert Gleadow, though on the radio playback they come across considerably better, with colour and dramatic urgency.

This puzzles me, but not quite as much as the quality of the vocal sound in general on the night. Now, I know the Royal Albert Hall has a cavernous, cathedral-like acoustic, but it's rare to hear quite so much of an echo from every single soloist when the sound from the orchestra and chorus was crisp and clear. It's also rare for comparatively light voices to project so cleanly and consistently all night - not a note was lost to an unwise pianissimo.

There were microphones in front of the singers for recording purposes - naturally, as the event was broadcast live - but no speakers to be seen. I very much doubt whether singers at this level would consent to be surreptitiously amplified, but that's honestly what it resembled - loud, trained voices boosted with near-instantaneous playback. It's just how Juan Diego Flórez sounded in the second half of his Proms performance a couple of years back, when he was (openly and unashamedly) miked.

Perhaps it's just that the TV screen at the front - hard, flat, reflective - increased the normal RAH reverberation level. Because in spite of the BBC's recent lapses from probity, the alternative is unthinkable. Isn't it?

 

  

Daniel Barenboim's Divan returns to Proms

Proms 38 and 39: West-Eastern Divan Orchestra / Barenboim - Royal Albert Hall, 14 August 2008

Haydn Sinfonia Concertante in B flat major, for oboe, bassoon, violin, cello
Schoenberg Variations for Orchestra, Op.31
Brahms Symphony No.4
Encore: Wagner Prelude, Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg

Pierre Boulez Mémoriale (... explosante-fixe ... Originel)
Stravinsky L'histoire du soldat

The surgical-gloved bag checks at the door and the deliberate omission of orchestra members' names from the programme were jolting reminders that for there's more to this mixed Arab-Israeli orchestra than music.

It is I suppose inevitable that the incredible feat of simply creating and sustaining a cross-divide orchestra tends to overshadow the purely musical successes. But gradually, Barenboim has shaped this assortment of musicians - professional and amateur, experienced and novice, young and even younger - into an outstanding orchestra. The fact that tonight's brass section included a few ringers from the Simon Bolivar Orchestra doesn't diminish that achievement.

What is really special about this orchestra is not just that Israeli and Arab sit side-by-side, but that it mixes such a wide range of experience. Tonight one of the Israelis was concertmaster of the Berliner Philharmoniker, Guy Braunstein, and sharing his stand was a ten year old Palestinian prodigy.

When leader Michael Barenboim bust a string in the Brahms, Guy Braunstein, sitting back in the third row, was the one who proffered a violin swap. Playing the last movement on three strings, using every spare moment to unpick the broken string so he could swiftly replace it with the spare in his pocket before the encore, he gave his junior partner a lesson in crisis management he won't forget for a while, on top of all the musical stuff. Where else could a ten year old, however talented, get that sort of training?

And why don't we have something similar in Britain? Bringing together warring nations may be beyond the scope of British orchestras, but putting together a group from mixed musical backgrounds could rejuvenate the approach of the professionals as well as giving the youngsters the sort of practical training they could never receive from any youth orchestra, however good.

They gave Haydn's Sinfonia Concertante an elegant, hard-edged workout, if rather short on charm. Barenboim, with the slightly disdainful air of a man obliged to hold his wife's handbag, occasionally stood back to investigate his pockets or swab himself with a handkerchief. Perhaps he was just demonstrating that the orchestra and soloists were well-enough rehearsed to motor along without his hand at the wheel.

He swung back to full-attention mode and Schoenberg's Variations for Orchestra emerged in luxuriant bloom, at once precisely delineated and expressively glowing, a scorching rebuttal to anyone who claims that twelve tone music is automatically incomprehensible or devoid of all feeling.

A short-breathed opening belied an expansive reading of Brahms' Fourth Symphony.  A balance weighted more toward the formal than the expressive element was perhaps to be expected, and Barenboim's sculptural definition securely contained its romantic sweep. I found myself impressed rather than moved.

It was a shame the enthusiastic applause and cheering had to be accompanied by an undercurrent of booing  - no doubt directed at the political rather than the musical element, but grossly unfair on the musicians.

Having commented that he's usually asked to say what's wrong with the Middle East, Barenboim claimed "you've just heard what’s right with the Middle East” before baiting another tiresome faction of his opponents with a rousing encore of Wagner’s first Meistersinger prelude.

More cheering, more booing, and I wasn't sure if the Palestinian flag unrolled in the Arena was a gesture of support or criticism - either way, it struck a jarringly divisive note next to the hugging and handshaking of the orchestra members.

Most of the orchestra finished for the night at this point, leaving just a handful to return an hour later for the late night concert. This began with the brief shards of Pierre Boulez's Stravinsky tribute Mémoriale (... explosante-fixe ... Originel), followed by the surprise appearance of the composer himself on stage.

Then came another living legend, this time actor/writer/director Patrice Chéreau, reading all the speaking parts in Stravinsky's L'histoire du soldat. This work has too many words and too little music to be improved by such an economically-textured approach, even when the performer is as distinguished as Chéreau. And of course the condensation of all roles into one performer limits spontaneity and removes one layer of engagement. Although Chéreau's performance was powerful and charismatic - or maybe because it was - the music took on the character of interludes to a monologue, illustrative asides. This was far from Stravinsky's intent. It's a difficult work to pull off, and while this performance displayed the content effectively enough, it didn't communicate the essence.

 

 

This our tempo! Gustavo Dudamel pwns Edinburgh, pwns Proms

Edinburgh Festival: Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra / Dudamel - Usher Hall, 12 August 2008

Prom 37: Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra / Dudamel / Martin Fröst - Royal Albert Hall, 13 August 2008

Edinburgh:
Copland Appalachian Spring
Ravel La Valse
Berlioz Symphonie Fantastique

London:
Ravel La Valse 
Anders Hillborg Clarinet Concerto (Peacock Tales)
Berlioz Symphonie fantastique

What proves that the Dudamel effect is not just the creation of a vampiric media, rejuvenating their tired old classical music coverage with fresh young blood, is that he achieves astonishing results with every orchestra he shakes his stick at.

Here was a case in point. The Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra - professional, refined, elegant - and about as exciting as a secondhand Volvo. But for two nights in a row - and with a long, tiring train ride (and I know, I did it myself) in between - they set an audience alight with their passion and fervour.

In Edinburgh on Tuesday, Appalachian Spring was sprung with the chill vigour of a sleigh ride. La Valse skirled and lurched drunkenly. The Symphonie Fantastique was delivered with the uninhibited inyerface brashness that for once could make you appreciate why it so scandalised and horrified its original audiences. Berlioz would have wept with joy.

I was left with an agonising decision - whether to hang around for an encore, or dash off through the rainy night to my next appointment (a Gabriela Montero late night recital, of which more later). I escaped, and found later I'd missed the two encores the ecstatic audience had demanded.

But luckily there was no such dilemma on Proms night. After the final wild fugue of the Fantastique, and the thunderous applause, the temperature was lowered with the sombre, hymn-like Sangen by by Swedish composer Stenhammar.

And then two minutes later the roof blew off the Albert Hall with a Latin stomp, Tico Tico, that rivalled the Simon Bolivar Orchestra's rendition at last year's Proms. Complete with the never-before-seen spectacle of the middle-aged sensible Swedish brass section tossing their jackets aside and leaping to their feet with their horns in the air.

But there had already been one encore. This came at the end of the first half. Martin Fröst's staggeringly virtuosic reading of Hillborg's (he turned up at the end to take a bow) Clarinet Concerto (complete with masked dance-mime and spooky lighting) was followed by a klezmer-style arrangement that showed off his skills in yet another light. Is he the best clarinettist in the world right now? Probably.

It should be pointed out, for those who care about such things, that I was sitting inches from the front at the Edinburgh concert, the sort of distance where you can hear every violin individually, and there was not a note out of place in the string section.

Sitting just behind the orchestra in the choir stalls at the Prom, I was impressed too by the calibre of the percussion playing. The whole programme was a mighty test of percussion skills, from the fiendish toms in the Hillborg to the massive bells at the end of the Fantastique. Woodwind intonation varied, but you couldn't accuse Dudamel (as some have done)of not knowing his technical stuff.

The Prom is available on the BBC iPlayer, here, for the next seven days. And the Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra have a blog  - in Swedish - with some great photos, here.

Edinburgh:

Gustavo Dudamel and Martin Frost:

 

Martin Frost:

Swedish brass do a twirl:

 

  

Benjamin's Bolero

Prom 27: BBC Symphony Orchestra / Benjamin - Royal Albert Hall, 6 August 2008

The Proms house band, the BBCSO, have been at it for a couple of weeks now, and the battle fatigue is starting to show. Or is it just me, projecting my increasing weariness of birthday boy Messiaen on to their opener, L'Ascension?  It's too earnest a work to survive such a perfunctory plod. And the string-free first movement cruelly exposed the ragged brass and winds.

I couldn't work up much enthusiasm for Carolin Widmann's accomplished but ultimately timid bash at Stravinsky's Violin Concerto either. The orchestral torpor smothered any attempt she made to break free.

George Benjamin's early Ringed by the Flat Horizon is a dazzlingly precise evocation of a storm erupting over a vast and bare landscape, from ominous rumblings to uncontainable violence. Conducted by the composer himself, it was the highlight of the evening. 

Repeated involuntary subjection has dulled the appeal of Ravel's Pavane pour une infante défunte and Boléro so much that I considered slipping out before they began. I'm glad I didn't.

Benjamin sped through with an immaculate control that extended beyond the orchestra to the audience. His raised hand at the end of the Pavane was duly observed, allowing an applause-free conjunction, the only sound, almost inevitably, the muffled ring of a mobile phone buried deep within some distant pocket. 

Boléro's timbral transformations sounded remarkably fresh if not quite radical, a proto-minimalism that had more in common with Stockhausen's Stimmung than its own contemporaries. And of course Benjamin managed the Olympic dressage of its sustained, expansive crescendo perfectly. There's a world of difference between listening to music - properly - in a concert hall, and merely being exposed to it, as this performance demonstrated.

 

Stockhausen Prom fails maths test. 3 hours 20 minutes ≠ 1 day

Proms 20 & 21: Stockhausen Day - BBCSO - Royal Albert Hall, 2 August 2008

The Proms marked the passing of one of the most influential composers of the 20th century with this Stockhausen 'Day' - in reality just 3 hours and 20 minutes (yes, I counted) of music, combining some of his best-known work with his most recent. We all know Stockhausen's popularity is inversely proportional to his influence, but surely he's worth more than this scant tribute? Far from patting Roger Wright on the back for serving up the brussel sprouts of the musical platter ungarnished, we should be demanding second portions.

At least three quarters of the seats were empty, but paradoxically a number of people who wanted the cheaper standing places couldn't get in. That was because most of the arena standing space was roped off to accommodate extra musicians for one of the pieces, leaving little room for £5 day ticket holders. Queuers were offered the alternative of standing in the gallery, but who wants to hear music from half a mile above the sound source when it's explicitly dependent on spatial positioning? Of course there were seats available, but at a price, and several of the young and less well-off - the very audience the Proms claim they want to attract - understandably just chose not to bother. Well done BBC.

At least the empty seats gave plenty of scope for a girl to spatially redistribute herself, so I had the luxury of sitting in a different spot for each part of the evening and experiencing the sound from different angles.

But for the first piece of the evening, there was only one place to be, and I wasn't there.

Gruppen was written for three orchestras, each with its own tempos and own conductors. Attempting to wrap round the audience, one of these was on the stage, and the other two edging out the prommers below in the arena, inches from their ears. The Royal Albert Hall is not the Berlin Philharmonie, and only about fifty people could squeeze into the magic circle and experience the full surround-sound effect.

It's fifty years old and like all of Stockhausen's early music sounds very much of its age. But why shouldn't it? So does Bach's, or Beethoven's. It's testament to Stockhausen's contribution in defining the music of the era.  The twang of the electric guitar that appears part way through is still enough to make you jump.

Gruppen got a second outing at the very end of the concert, where I had a different seat. Clarity and balance were maintained as it veered from sparing delicacy to clangour, though the three orchestras seemed to blend into one from both of my seats, the spatial distribution of sound barely apparent. Though well played and immaculately conducted, it lacked the overwhelming impact I'd expected, simply because the orchestras were at one end of a very large room and I was at the other. The wrong choice for this venue.

Cosmic Pulses, from Stockhausen's last, unfinished work Klang, was some contrast. Half an hour of electronic tape loops, swirling around the Royal Albert Hall from a series of speakers placed far above our heads, it was an extraordinary, enveloping experience. Like some cathedral from outer space, or a summons from the gods, warped organ sounds piped from the walls. As dulled bells pealed in the distance, testament to Stockhausen's profoundly religious background. A radio repeat usually gives a good idea of what a concert was like, but there's no way this one could be replicated - ironic considering it's essentially a playback of recorded sounds.

Harmonien, which followed, another portion of Klang, was a bit of a comedown. I doubt if any solo trumpet work could sustain my interest for fifteen minutes. This one certainly couldn't, despite Marco Blaauw's technically accomplished performance, spotlit in the gloom with his mutes looped round his waist like ammo. It seemed by Stockhausen's standards hummably melodic (perhaps a result of the trumpet's restricted note range), repeated themes adding to that effect.

After the interval came Kontakte, another early work, basic but ingenious in its use of electronics to supplement live piano and percussion, packed with gleefully deafening gong interludes, an irresistible love of noise for its own sake.

I ended up chatting instead of eating for the hour between concerts, so I was starving throughout Stimmung, which constituted the whole of Prom 21.

Perhaps that's why I thought I heard words like 'fried egg', 'salami' and most perplexingly 'what's in a greek salad' emerging from the monochord hum and drone of the six vocalists, Theatre of Voices. How the brain loves to tweak any verbalisation into coherent narrative discourse.

As per the composer-prescribed presentation, the singers sat barefoot around a low table with a globe light at its centre (photo at top of post and below), tethering the work to its roots in 1960's San Francisco far more than the music itself did.

There were moments of pure inspiration, where voices melded to produce completely new sounds, like a spacey, wiry twang produced by layering a soft whistle over a hum, making this so much more than just a period piece. The perfect end to an all-too-short 'day'.

  

Prom 18: Glyndebourne's Poppaea flashes her bits at the Proms

Prom 18: The Coronation of Poppaea - Glyndebourne Festival Opera - Royal Albert Hall, 18 July 2008

Having decided I'd rather spend four hours in a comfy(ish) seat with a decent view than straining my stilettos to peer through the crowd, I forked out £21 for a choir stalls seat, behind the stage. This isn't always a great place to sit for big orchestral concerts, right on top of timps and tubas which can drown out every other sound.

But for this semi-staged performance of Monteverdi's Coronation of Poppaea (yes, the English title despite being sung in Italian) I ended up mere inches from the action, and what's more, the orchestra were behind the singers. The best seats in the house? For one night only, possibly.

Robert Carsen's original Glyndebourne staging was swagged top to toe in red velvet. The Royal Albert Hall couldn't quite stretch to that, so instead we got a few draped objects scattered strategically around the stage >>>>>

Normally when Glyndebourne visits the Proms, it brings a full sized orchestra with it, so the singers end up squeezed on to a sort of landing strip in the middle.

But with the 20-odd musicians of Emmanuelle Haïm's tiny band shoehorned on to the front of the stage, there was plenty of space left for what turned out to be one of the most complete operatic stagings I've seen at the Proms, not much 'semi' about it at all.

It opened with a cringemaking and redundant bit of comedy 'business': Virtue (got up as a nun see left) and Fortune (glamorously evening-gowned) arguing in the front row of the Arena - from where they were invisible and inaudible to most of the audience (except us lot in the choir, nah).  Did the director not realise the audience would be standing?

Equally irritating was the way Cupid - written into only a couple of scenes - loitered around the stage throughout  like a wasp at a picnic. It may have made sense in the Glyndebourne staging, but it didn't transfer to the Proms. I shall now remember Amy Freston for her annoying arrow-waving intrusion rather than her brief but excellent singing.

Emmanuelle Haïm directed the pared-down Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment from the keyboard, in thinly-scored, unfussy and beautifully translucent arrangements.

Although she'd trimmed the score here and there, only one full scene was sacrificed. I wished she'd pruned more ruthlessly - or at least upped the consistently stately pace here and there. It was a hot fuggy night, half the audience hadn't heard of deodorant, and there there several moments I just wanted her to get on with it.

Vocally, the main draw was Alice Coote, and she didn't disappoint as the coolly psychopathic Nero, a butcher in a dinner suit. An opaque and less intense performance than Coote often gives, but just as enthralling.

Danielle de Niese made a surprisingly good job of Poppea, given that her career seems to be headed down the Katherine Jenkins route.

While her idea of acting secksy is as subtle as a stag party strippergram, the voice had more colour and gleam than previous exposure had suggested. As she pouted and squirmed and ground her sturdy thighs into the prone Nero, the difference between the two performances became painfully obvious though. Coote wants you to believe in her, utterly; De Niese just wants to be admired. Poppea is more than a firecrotched party girl; she's a schemer who uses her body as a tool to pursue her broader ambitions. De Niese's dramatic skills didn't stretch this far. But otherwise, the role didn't tax her limitations, and she was one of the best things about the evening.

Iestyn Davies sang Ottone with remarkably secure tone and excellent projection  - definitely one of the few countertenors with the ability to fill a space the size of the Royal Albert Hall. He bravely sidestepped a cheap laugh, and didn't allow the female disguise he sported for Poppea's attempted murder to overshadow the implications of this desperate act.

Just as well really, because there were men in frocks to spare. Though neither could resist dipping into mannerism, some of the best vocal performances came from the character singers Wolfgang Ablinger-Sperrhacke as the Queen Motherly Amalta and Dominique Visse as the Mrs T-like Nurse.

Tamara Mumford as a Nepregko-lookalike Octavia and Marie Arnet as Drusilla also gave able performances, and only Paolo Battaglia's desiccated and uncomfortable-looking/sounding Seneca really disappointed. Cruelly costumed in a thick tweed suit, he must have been envious of the many other characters given dramatic licence to cavort in their underpants on this steamy night. Nero's, Ottone's, Amalta's, Lucan's - we saw 'em all.

The only evidence of airconditioning was the noise it made, like hobnailed elves dancing in the pipes. Now that's one area where the Arena really does score - for some reason it's noticeably cooler than the seated areas on the hottest days.

Listen to the whole concert for the next 7 days on Radio 3 here.

A few reverse-angle photos - the only real disadvantage of the choir seats:

 

 

1 down, 75 to go - the First Night of the Proms

Prom 1: Christine Brewer / Pierre-Laurent Aimard / Nicholas Daniel / Wayne Marshall / Royal College of Music Brass / BBC Symphony Orchestra / Jiří Bělohlávek - Royal Albert Hall, 18 July 2008

R. Strauss Festliches Präludium
Mozart Oboe Concerto in C major, K314
R. Strauss Four Last Songs
Messiaen Dieu parmi nous, from 'La Nativité du Seigneur'
Beethoven Rondo in B-flat, for piano and orchestra
E. Carter Caténaires (solo piano)
Scriabin The Poem of Ecstasy

If there's one thing the Proms are good for, it's a whinge or two. So here, in no particular order:

- the weather. In place of the usual bugbear, scorching heat inside and out, this year's Proms started damp and blustery, with the odd shower sprinkling those of us queuing outside. The white at the top of the picture >>>>>
isn't overexposure btw - it's a solid bank of cloud....

- the first night programme. A bitty 'sampler' that needed a different orchestra/stage configuration for each piece. Seemingly designed to maximise tea break time for the TV audience at home (the whole Prom was broadcast live, and is still available on the BBC iPlayer here if you're interested), but all the fannying around completely disrupted the momentum for the live audience.

- The 8ft BBC camera platform plonked in the middle of the Arena >>>>> 
and blocking the stage view for anyone behind it. With a capacity audience, particularly unfair.

- the free Proms pocket guides running out before the concert had even started.

But what about the music? Well, the opening  Festliches Präludium shows Strauss at his least subtle, all banging organ chords and brass fanfares. Bělohlávek conjured up decibels on a Ted Nugent scale. My ears rang. What a start. 

After an eternity of faffing the stage around, the now-drastically pruned orchestra were ready to take on Mozart's Oboe Concerto, with Nick Daniel in the driving seat. A choux puff after Strauss's black forest gateau, it was handled with delicacy and a touch of wit by all concerned. I couldn't help thinking though that for all its charm, it does just go on a bit.

Then came the late sub, the redoubtable Christine Brewer, billowing in on a cloud of white satin and powder blue chiffon. Not many voices can fill the Royal Albert Hall, so the knob masters at the BBC often twiddle up the vocal volume for the benefit of home viewers. But la Brewer chose instead to give her live audience a real performance. She belted out Strauss's Four Last Songs at her impressive full capacity. Subtlety was necessarily in short measure, but her lusciously creamy soprano, capped with a remarkably even vibrato, rang out to the back of the hall.

I know it's Messiaen's anniversary year and all that, but even a diehard fan couldn't complain about the amount of Messiaen on offer at this year's Proms. The first of the many tributes came with a stunning Dieu parmi nous from Wayne Marshall. I could barely see him, bent over between the 9,999 pipes of Britain's second largest organ in his stage-rear eyrie, but the sound was ear-splitting.

Pierre-Laurent Aimard was the evening's final soloist. A rather slight piece of early Beethoven, the B flat Rondo, with orchestra, was followed by Elliot Carter's Caténaires. Written for Aimard, and receiving its UK premiere, it's a tiny twinkling gem, a mad ant dash around the keyboard that displays Aimard's extraordinary skill with line and phrasing (not to mention virtuosity) to the full.

The closer, Scriabin's Poem of Ecstasy, was hardly an orgy of sensuous abandon under the dour baton of Bělohlávek, but was at least lively enough to end the evening in the spirit of celebration in which it had begun. And like everything else on this evening, loud.

Incidentally, I was surprised to read a review of the Scriabin in The Guardian, as my friend Lu claims she was sitting right behind its author in the side stalls and he left just before it began. But perhaps it's a case of mistaken identity.

No mistakes about The Times Proms podcast - several of us in the Arena watched discreetly as a couple of Timesers stood in the corner recording this before the concert. So if they say it comes directly from the Proms, it's nothing but the truth. 

 

 

 

First night of Proms - Christine Brewer parachutes in

Sadly, Karita Mattila has withdrawn from the first night of the Proms (tomorrow, Friday 18th) due to ill health.

But the good news is that Christine Brewer will be replacing her for Strauss’s Four Last Songs.

To be broadcast on Radio 3 and BBC2 at 8pm.

 

 

Daleks exterminate Berlin Philharmonic at Proms box office

It's only a few days into the Proms advance booking period, and already the Dalek-packed Dr Who family Prom on 27 July has sold out, unlike others including the Berlin Philharmonic's.

Although the Berlin press widely regard Sir Simon Rattle as an enemy alien, he's been unable to translate that into box office with the same success as the Daleks.

For anyone who's missed out on advance tickets for the Dr Who Prom, day tickets (standing) will as ever be available, and it's also worth checking for returns on the Royal Albert Hall Proms website (not up yet) closer to the day.

They came from Boston - Levine & co at the Proms

Prom 70: Boston Symphony Orchestra/Levine - Royal Albert Hall, 6 September 2007

Central Boston

The BSO and chorus; Finchley Children's Music Group in blue above

This Prom was somewhat overshadowed by the sad news of Luciano Pavarotti's death earlier in the day. Conductor James Levine's long association with the big man at the Met made it more personal for him than for most. It was no surprise when a pre-concert announcement was made that the evening was to be dedicated to Pavarotti.

But in true show-must-go-on style, Levine bounced onto the stage looking chipper, and settled into a plush velvet high chair that had been set up on the podium.

The sole work of the evening was Berlioz's La Damnation de Faust, performed in the original concert version. The BSO have been touring this around Europe for the past couple of weeks, London being their last stop. Their experience shone through in the immaculately polished performance they gave.

Faust is not dramatically or musically integrated to the extent of Berlioz's later work. It is more a collection of splendidly inventive and often witty musical ideas that Berlioz shoehorned into Goethe's Faust story, flexing Goethe's narrative where necessary to fit his own creations better. Dramaturgically weak, it shoots through key plot points and wallows in the incidentals that inspired (or fitted) the marvellous musical creations of Berlioz.

Levine's BSO luxuriated in these details with a precise, technically secure and perfectly balanced contribution. Brass and percussion in particular had a lot of work to do, some very exposed, and never put a foot wrong. It was as if they'd been rehearsing nothing else for the past year.

The Tanglewood Festival Chorus gave the best performance of any choir I've heard at this year's Proms. Performing without scores, they had perfect diction, uniform pitch, and struck exactly the right dynamic balance both internally and with the orchestra. They even managed a certain degree of characterisation, always a challenge with vocal forces of that number.

The soloists too performed mostly without scores, though they did clutch them as a safety blanket. Marcello Giordani's very Italian tenor was perhaps not quite what Berlioz had in mind for the part of Faust, but he gave a clear and sympathetic account. José Van Dam made a somewhat detached and coldly menacing Méphistophélès, dignified but threatening. The voice is thinner now, but it still projected with an almost diffident ease across the yawning Albert Hall. The Marguerite of Yvonne Naef was perhaps the most touching performance, and her rich creamy voice most suited to the material.

Berlioz, a one-time chorus singer himself, sensitively thins out the orchestration beneath the soloists, and Levine paid close attention to the singers and made sure there were no unwanted crests of sound overwhelming them at any point. With all of them having big, well-projected voices anyway, it was the first time in this Proms series I've actually been able to hear every word that was sung.

The young Finchley Children's Music Group sat patiently through the second half waiting for their moment towards the end in Margarita's Apotheosis. They were well up to the standard of the professional musicians with perfect timing, clear French, and a lovely tone. Their two soloists were rightly brought down to the front of the stage at the end to share the applause given to the adults.

Any performance as well-drilled as this one will inevitably lack a degree of spontaneity. The hard work that must have preceded it was impressive, but it was all too visible. It was impossible not to admire the musical management, and the concentration required to pull it off. But, a few soloist moments aside, it largely left me cold.