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'.
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