The SCO Season Finale

It must be a rarity for someone to greet the words "[insert name here] is unfortunately unable to conduct this week's concerts due to illness." with relief. Not, I hasten to add, out of any ill-will I bear Olari Elts; indeed, I hope he recovered speedily (this not particularly timely review refers to a concert given on 8th May). However, he has not much impressed me in the concert hall, and I had already decided to delete his appearances from my subscription next year.

But any relief was fairly short lived. His replacement, Andreas Spering, gave a performance that was at times extremely odd. According to Tumelty's review in The Herald, orchestra and conductor didn't get on well, with some in the orchestra feeling he had nothing to do with the performance. If I was them, I wouldn't want to advocate that line too loudly. The programme led off with Beethoven's 3rd symphony. I've said before that there has been too much music that Charles Mackerras has played recently with this orchestra, and much better; when there is so much to choose from this is odd. The eroica falls into this category. Somehow, I was in the back row of the main stalls (odd since for most concerts I've been at the front), still, this was actually some relief as like most conductors this season, Spering was unable to moderate his volume for the Queen's Hall. The vision of the symphony itself was downright bizarre, sounding almost as though it had been reworked for a purely string orchestra.

This was followed by Haydn's Nelson Mass (again Mackerras territory, though he has not done this work with them). Again volume was a problem. Indeed, Spering's approach seemed to be something of a sledgehammer one, which makes it all the odder that he apparently has roots in period practice. The soloists, including the excellent Karen Cargill, who sang so well in Das Lied von der Erde under Runnicles recently, were good, but Spering's accompaniment was poor. That said, there was some good playing, the trumpets in the Benedictus, for example. The Miserere nobis was excellently performed too, and the SCO Chorus was a solid as ever. But ultimately, it didn't really grab me, up to and including the final chord which sounded like a penultimate one. In the end I found more interest in trying to identify which member of the chorus's score was being reflected in a screen.

So what of the attempt, failed in the end by both circumstances within and outwith my control, to attend all of the SCO concerts this season. I learned a lot from it, but mainly that it was a mistake. I have sent in my form for next season. Despite my protestations about the manifest unsuitability of St Cuthbert's church for classical performance, it is still being used for the Cl@six series. I will not be attending these. Another pity is that the number of chamber concerts has dropped. Shockingly, Mackerras is only coming to Glasgow and Perth, so I'll be on the train for that. Other than that, I have mainly made savings by cutting out the Elts concerts. These will be more than compensated for by attending more from both the RSNO and BBC Scottish, not to mention getting to a few more things in London, the LSO season has some particularly interesting things.

The SCO show they can still bring it: two overdue gems from Chicago and Handel

If there was a criticism of my reviews of the SCO this season, it might be that they haven't always been the most positive. What's more, as I complete my task of catching up, I notice that two of the finest performances have slipped through the net. I'm rather sorry for this, and intend to rectify it immediately with several paragraphs of much overdue praise.

First up is Handel's opera Theodora, in concert, from as recently as November! Given the state of Scottish Opera, it's all the finer to hear a strong concert performance of an opera. Conductor Kenneth Montgomery was new to me, but it's clear from his biography that he's steeped in opera. This is also clear from his conducting as he brings a good sense of drama, something that separates the wheat from the chaff in terms of opera conducting. He wasn't perfect: at times a little loud for the hall, but given the full chorus was present too, and that this clearly wanted to be in the Usher Hall, he may be forgiven. Indeed, the orchestra forced its way back into the stalls as far as I've ever seen it (I was very nearly breathing down Su-a Lee's neck as she superbly played the cello part of the continuo).

His pacing was fairly brisk, and this is no bad thing in a Handel opera, as it is all too easy for things to drag, yet there were moments when I would have liked him to savour a little more, as Mackerras did in Orlando.

The SCO chorus sang well, though in truth their diction was not quite what it can be, or usually has been in the recent past. Susan Gritton sang the title role well, if her voice was perhaps fractionally thin for my taste conversely I found David Wilson-Johnson as Valens was a little coarse. The only other reservation concerns Christine Rice who swept me away as Annio in La Clemenza di Tito. Her voice seems to have grown thicker and with a heavier vibrato than I care for. But in the quieter moments, of which there were plenty, I had few complaints.

It makes me wish for more of the same next year. And we very nearly are getting such: Handel's Alexander's Feast. Unfortunately I will not be attending. Richard Egarr is conducting from the harpsichord and given how lacklustre his Matthew Passion was, when he didn't have to worry about playing as well, I wouldn't touch this with a barge pole.


Only slightly more recently, another conductor of whom I've never heard joined the orchestra for what, on the face of it, was not the most promising programme ever: Okko Kamu was playing a mix of minor Sibelius works and Tchaikovsky. I like some Tckaikovsky, particularly the 4th to 6th symphonies, but I loath the piano concerto (except in Grainger's reduction for solo piano), on which basis I didn't hold out much hope for the violin, which I tend to like less as a solo instrument anyway. Kamu opened with Sibelius's Rakastava. Certainly it is not his greatest work, none the less, they played it very nicely and, better still, at sensible volumes for the Queen's Hall.

It shouldn't, but the first thing that strikes one about soloist Rachel Barton Pine is the slightly awkward manner in which she walks onto the stage and that she sits rather than stands, which is unusual for a violin soloist. It transpires that this is the result of a quite horrific accident. Fortunately it hasn't dented her playing skills, or, at least, if it did she must have been beyond astonishing before.

There was a real verve and personality to her playing, and a real energy too. Kamu supported her well. There was some wonderful playing, not least in the superb duet between violin and clarinet in the slow movement. I've recently railed against encores, but here they arguably eclipsed the concerto. She first played something with Scottish roots, which was nice enough, but this was followed by a quite superb blues Sweet Home Chicago. If you don't believe me, I suggest you check out this You Tube clip. Her CDs join the long list of those to be investigated. She also had the decency to tell us what the encores were, which I like.

After the interval came Sibelius's suite no.2 from The Tempest. Kamu and the SCO gave a magical reading: there was a wonderful weight to Prospero and beautiful lightness to Miranda and some superb, what I can only describe as pizzicato bowing (I'm sure there's a more accurate technical term) during the songs. Finally came Tchaikovsky's extremely odd suite no.4 Mozartiana. This is a celebration of Mozart, and Tchaikovsky re-orchestrating him. And the result is absolutely bizarre, sounding like Mozart and yet not in the least like Mozart. It was fascinating to hear and they played it well.

It is a great pity that neither Barton Pine or Kamu are returning to the SCO next season, though Barton Pine is joining the RSNO for the Bruch concerto in October. I'll be there (assuming the Usher Hall is open).

The Adventurous SCO

Those following my series on the SCO's 2007/8 season may, with some justification, complain that I have, thus far, completely ignored the Adventurer strand, which focuses on new music. Those same people are entitled to further confusion since there are many posts here which are positive about new compositions, so I'm clearly not turning my nose up at them because I don't think they're going to be tuneful.

So, what has happened? I seem to have managed to miss the first three. For one it clashed with a production of Salad Days, which frankly trumped Elts. Annoyingly, Oliver Knussen (whom I will hear at Aldeburgh next month) fell by the wayside on December 15th as I had a rather nasty bug and didn't feel up to going out. The audience should probably be grateful for my restraint. Then, on 19th January, an old and dear friend held his stag do and, much as I would have liked to review Garry Walker's concert, I think Andy would have been fully justified in not speaking to me again. Fortunately, no such conflict or mishap occurred on Thursday 10th April. John Storgards conducted the orchestra in a programme of MacRae, Hallgrimsson and Strauss.

First up was MacRae's Birches, an SCO commission. I've encountered MacRae's music only once before, in the 2006 Festival during new opera The Assassin Tree. More so than then, I found his composition a bit of the whir-plonk school and only very occassionally evocative of trees in the way his note suggested it should be: at the start he nicely captured a wind-in-the-trees feeling. But, in general, I found it a rather forgettable piece.

Fortunately the Hallgrimsson was much better. A co-commission with the Oslo Philharmonic and the Iceland Symphony, it was his cello concerto and the excellent Truls Mork was on hand to play it. The orchestration was very full, and yet it never felt silly in the kitchen sink sense that can so often happen in such circumstances, nothing felt like it was included simply for the sake of it. There was some excellent playing, the basses and brass in the opening particularly. Mork was superb, especially in the quieter moments. Indeed, here Storgards deserves praise: volume wasn't the ghost of a problem as it so often has been. The single movement piece developed and flowed organically. Almost immediately I wanted to hear it again. I sincerely hope we do not have to wait too long for a recording. I look forward to Mork's return for less contemporary fare in October.

I'm not, unlike my brother, the biggest fan of Strauss, but the evening's final work made me question why: Strauss's Metamorphosen. Storgards led it well as it developed and morphed organically, indeed, it was in that respect an excellent pairing for the Hallgrimsson. The strings of the SCO were at their finest. In short it was a hypnotic and beautiful experience. I have a recording from Furtwangler that I'm clearly going to have to spin more often.

All in all, a very fine concert, which makes me doubly sorry I've missed so many, hopefully events won't get in the way of the three I've booked for next year (I'm skipping Elts again).

A call to arms: The Society for the Prevention of Inappropriate Encores (and stupid programme notes)

I don't know who first thought up the idea of the encore, a short piece played after the concert programme has ended. Some people clearly like them, I almost never do. Their wrongness was highlighted in a recent concert from Swensen and the SCO where violinist Henning Kraggerud seemed to think that it was possible to find an appropriate encore for the Brahms concerto. If it is, he hasn't identified it.

The other chief complaint about this concert concerns the calibre of the programme notes. I increasingly wonder why I fork out £2 for these. I suppose they're useful for making notes and reminding me of the personnel, but that is online and a pad would surely be more cost-effective. In his note to the first piece Conrad Wilson, moonlighting from his job as the Scotsman's missable music critic, he tells us:

"Dvorak's father and grandfather were village butchers, and he, too, might have joined the family trade, thereby depriving us of the 'New World' Symphony and the greatest of all cello concertos."

The emphasis is mine, added so that nobody thinks I'm complaining about the punctuation. It always irks me when anyone describes anything as the greatest blank. There are many great cello concertos, what possible basis is there for judging which of the Elgar and the Dvorak is the greater. Both are incredible, let us leave it at that. But, since Conrad Wilson wasn't playing, it seems wrong to waste more time on him.


The Dvorak reference can in the note to his serenade for strings, op.22. The orchestra played it well, though I would have liked a more focussed reading in the slower moments. Given the size of the ensemble for this, one has to question the necessity for a conductor, the more so given this ensemble's ability without one. Applause followed the scherzo. I must confess that through ignorance, in a manner very unlike me, I joined it, I had quite lost count of the movements. This was followed by the serenade for winds, op.44. The playing here was taut and particularly fine. Cellist David Watkin was on superb form as the sole non-wind. However, I couldn't help noticing that the bassoons were a cut above what they've been lately. Now, the SCO's wind section is always good, and well serviced to boot, but they have suffered a little of late. Glancing at the first bassoonist I thought here was a familiar face. A check of the programme at the interval confirmed that this was indeed Ursula Leveaux, whose playing has been sorely missed. Sadly, those more in the know than me confirm that she was just standing in and has not rejoined the orchestra. Pitty.

I arrived in Edinburgh pretty well just just as Joseph Swensen was leaving as SCO as principal conductor. One of the things that has intrigued me was that he often performed (and appears on recordings) as both soloist and conductor, he also plays the violin. However, he did not choose to do so with the Brahms concerto. This may, though, have contributed to the fact that he seemed not to be going for the same interpretation as Henning Kraggerud, the evening's actual soloist. Only at the very end did they seem to meet up, and then only because they were both very loud, more than anything else. Indeed, as with so much else this season, too loud was a complaint. I think the Brahms concerto calls for a measure of weight and authority but he did not display any. The SCO horns, who are making less fluffs these days than they were a couple of years ago, backslid a little, with some particularly mumbled work in the opening.

Kraggerud then played an encore, I neither knew nor cared what it was. The power of the close of that concerto is ruined by attempting one. What next, an encore to Mahler's 8th or Wagner's Ring? The other patrons didn't seem to share my view, and perhaps nobody else does, but if you do, let's start a campaign.

The Brahms was accompanied by a similarly stupid programme note to Wilson's effort. This, by Gerald Larner, stated:

"As Joachim well knew, the test of a great concerto is not how brilliant the solo part is but how much more inspired the soloist seems to be than the orchestra behind him."

Well, each to their own, but of the many concertos I know and love, I can't think of any I would apply this statement to. Particular, say, the Brahms first concerto where I think a lot of the genius lies in the threat of the orchestra overwhelming the soloist but not doing so (assuming it's played well). But is the piano part of the Emperor really more inspired than the orchestral writing? Perhaps it depends on the conductor, but when you have a superb accompanist, such as Mackerras, it feels no less inspired.

A note to Louis Langree: you're not auditioning for a role in Spinal Tap

These go to eleven.

So spake Nigel Tufnel in the superb fake-rockumentary This is Spinal Tap. He was boasting as to how his amplifiers were so much better than those of many other bands because they went only went up to ten whereas his did eleven, and that was clearly louder. Loudness was, in Tufnel's world, king. It has sometimes seemed that way in many of the SCO's concerts this year, where the conductor hasn't balanced his forces properly considering he is in the confines of the (small) Queen's Hall. Louis Langree, who performed last night, was probably the worst offender to date.

And this is a shame, because both the calibre of the playing, and the readings in most other respects, were excellent. He led off with Beethoven's Leonore overture no.2, which is on a fairly moderate scale when set next to some of the others, not that one would have known that. The balance of the strings and the winds (which were often a little overwhelmed) wasn't perfect either, and owed something both the volume and my seating position. Other than noise levels, my main reservation concerned the offstage trumpet. It wasn't badly played or anything, but somehow the balance between it and the orchestra seemed unremarkable, which is surely not the reason for placing it offstage. Where's Donald Runnicles when you need him?

The orchestra was then joined by Renaud Capucon on violin (of whom I have on a good recording of the Mendelssohn and Schumann concertos with Harding and the Mahler Chamber Orchestra) and Antoine Tamestit on viola for Mozart's sinfonia concertante K364, which I know much less well than K297. Surprisingly, perhaps, given his biography lists him as director of the Mostly Mozart festival in New York since 2002, this was the sole work for which Langree chose to conductor from the score. The orchestral playing was particularly beautiful and delicate here and, unlike in the Beethoven, volume was not an issue. At first the two soloists seemed a little rigid but they loosened up and as the work progressed it became more compelling. I have a recording (from Szell and the Cleveland Orchestra), which I must investigate further. By the finale any doubts were a distant memory. The two soloists played an encore, which for once fitted. Mozart did write two duos for violin and viola (K423 and 424) and I suspect it was something from one of these. Whatever it may have been though, it was lovely. Tamestit and Capucon have a recording of the sinfonia concetante on the way from Virgin, also with the SCO, one worth looking out for.

After the interval the knob was right back up to eleven, if not beyond, for Schumann's wonderful fourth symphony (in, the programme informed us, its final 1851 version, but given the Penguin Guide lists no alternative versions I wonder if this is an artificial distinction, unlike, say with Bruckner symphonies). The volume was a shame, given this was an absolutely thrilling and joyful reading. My only reservation would be that the slow movement could, perhaps, have been a little more so. The orchestra played superbly, the more so given the extremely high speeds Langree called for (especially in the finale); that the orchestra held so clearly together at these times is a testament to their skill. Something gave violinists Zoe Beyers and Vicky Sayles the giggles a few minutes before the end (though they held it in well). If either of them, or anyone else in the know, is reading this, I'm curious to know what it was.

Scottish Chamber Roundup

For the second in my series of posts catching up with reviews of the Scottish Chamber Orchestra's work, I turn my attention to what, for me, has been the most consistently satisfying strand of their concert season: the series of chamber concerts given by what is referred to in the season brochure as the SCO Ensemble. What this means in practice is ad hoc assemblies of members of the orchestra, often the principals, but often not. The quality of these performances makes it all the sadder that there are only three next season as opposed to four, perhaps the management can explain this bizarre decision; I cannot.

I'm not so behind with these as with some other concerts, the earliest dates from Sunday March 2nd and featured Mozart's trio in E flat Kegelstatt (or skittle) and Schubert's octet. The Mozart was the less successful of the two. An odd scoring of piano, clarinet and viola, this was very much a scratch trio and it felt it. Caroline Henbest on viola and Barnaby Robson on clarinet (it seems the orchestra's superb Maximiliano Martin was indisposed) were joined by Peter Evans on piano. Their playing was perfectly decent but it wasn't apparent who, if anyone, was actually leading the trio and there seemed to be a lack of communication between them.

Things fared much better for the octet as Henbest and Robson were joined by the orchestra's leader Christopher George and Claire Sterling on violin, David Watkin on cello, Graham Mitchell on bass, Guillermo Salcedo on bassoon and Gavin Edwards on horn. From the first note this was more like it. There was clear leadership and clear communication between the players, and it was apparent in the sound, the ensemble played clearly with a single voice in the way only the best chamber groups manage. It was a vibrant reading of a work I little know, David Watkin's contribution was, as ever, particularly dynamic.



A month later, and a few days after a successful orchestral concert, Christian Zacharias returned for an almost all Mozart chamber programme. He kicked things off with solo piano work and the variations on a minuet by Duport K573. His playing was poetic and with beautiful delicacy. Indeed, more impressive than had been the case in the Beethoven concerto. He has recorded the sonatas and I think I may need to investigate them.

This was followed by Reger's serenade in G op.141a, a new work to me. Scored for violin, viola and flute, this was superbly played by Christopher George, Jane Atkins and Alison Mitchell respectively. Following the interval was more Mozart and the quartet K370 for oboe, violin, viola and cello. George and Atkins were joined by Robin Williams on oboe and David Watkin on cello. At first I was a little disappointed that we were not getting Zacharias for more of the programme, but the playing soon dispensed with such doubts. A fine piece and finely played, and one with which I need to become better acquainted.

Finally, Zacharias returned to the stage for Mozart's piano quartet K478, joined by Watkin, George and Atkins. This was possibly the most compelling and cohesive performance of the afternoon. The four came together much better than such scratch ensembles often do. I notice that Paul Lewis has recorded this for Hyperion, something else to add to the to be listened to shelf, I think.


The final chamber concert came only yesterday, and on the odd time of Saturday morning. Indeed, since the SCO were also playing an evening concert it almost felt like the festival. This was the SCO's subscriber concert - free to any who donate or get a season ticket (a not particular select group given it seemed fuller than many of the chamber concerts).

The first work was Prokofiev's sonata for two violins, and engagingly played by Zoe Beyers and Rosenna East. I enjoyed it very much, though am unable to judge the calibre of the performance more than that, since it was my first hearing of the work. This was followed by Elgar's piano quintet (again unknown to me) with the addition of Brian Schiele on viola, Su-a Lee on cello and Alasdair Beatson on piano. Schiele gave a brief but interesting introduction, setting the composition into the context of the absence for several years (due to the Great War) of the Three Choirs festival and noting Elgar's description of the first movement as "ghostly stuff", though I'm not sure I really heard that. At first I thought the orchestra's streak of having more delicate pianists for the chamber series was being maintained, but as the work progressed I found Beatson slightly heavy-handed and not quite in balance. Otherwise, though, it was superbly played.

All in all, as I said at the start, the most consistently satisfying series. Of course, that may be because, as will be apparent to anyone who's read this far, these are works I know much less well, if at all, than the orchestral fare, and probably that makes me easier to please.

Three Director's Notes

I've managed to get slightly behind in my series covering (or rather, intending to cover, since for unavoidable reasons I've missed several now) the SCO's 2007/8 season. This post will, therefore, cover slightly more than three notes, namely the second, third and fourth concerts in the Director's Notes series, so named because the conductor is also the soloist (or a member of the orchestra). The first instalment, Mustonen, didn't exactly meet with my approval. Fortunately, nothing that followed was that bad, and much of it was actually very good.

Not the second concert though. I had already experienced Piotr Anderszewski's pianism. He seems to be getting rave reviews in certain circles; I dissent. But the first piece on the programme on 5th March had nothing whatever to do with him, but instead with a member of the orchestra whose praises I've frequently sung on these pages: principal cellist David Watkin. He directed the orchestra in Mozart's 21st symphony. In some respects this was poor timing, following as it did just one week after Mackerras's tour de force with similar repertoire. But he did a fine job, choosing broader tempi than might have been selected by the Australian. The orchestra played well for him, if not quite so finely as for Mackerras. All in all, though, it was a most enjoyable start.

Up next was, frustratingly, Haydn's piano concerto in D major. Why frustrating? After all, it's a work that is new to me, and that's always nice. Well, the Perth programme a day earlier had Mozart's concerto K488 instead, one of my absolute favourites. Then again, given how much I didn't appreciate Anderszewski's previous treatment of a Mozart concerto, that may have been just as well. Actually, he did an impressive job as far as conducting the orchestra was concerned, rather making me wish he had programmed a Haydn symphony instead. Unfortunately, the moment the piano entered there was the thumping. It's something I don't care for at the best of times, but in this sort of classical repertoire it isn't even forgivable in the way in might be with Tchaikovsky or Liszt. His phrasing is, in my view, rather pedestrian to boot. I was left with the strong impression that he would do well to give up his day job for the baton. In the second movement he did show some delicacy, but still the thumping lurked. To make matters worse it was joined by annoying, groaning, nasal vocalisations. The finale was little more than an depressing orgy of thumping.

For the finale, Beethoven's first (or C major, in case you're going to get pedantic about the numbering) concerto. The more shocking given this orchestra's pedigree in Beethoven, his performance made me drop any notion of his conducting skills. A quiet, clipped start yielded to excessive forte, or more, and thumping galore. I love the movement, making it the more disappointing. The largo was better, and as with the Haydn, Anderszewski found some delicacy, but always with such banal playing and always the tendency to pound the keys where greater pianists massage them. The finale was too loud orchestrally, matching the bang, bang, bang at the piano.

He played an encore. I don't know what it was, and to be honest, I didn't care that much. I don't like encores as a rule, I think they rarely add anything to a concert. I've never known Charles Mackerras to play one, artists would do well to take a leaf out of his book.


Finer things were in store when, a month later, we were joined by Christian Zacharias, something I had been looking forward to since the season brochure appeared last spring. Here is a pianist who appreciates delicacy, and who is also a seasoned conductor: I have fond memories of his visit with the Lausanne Chamber Orchestra to the festival several years ago. His programme was of traditional form, overture, concerto, symphony, but well executed. He began with Beethoven's Coriolan. The opening phrases came sharply, almost like sneezes, in a good way, and he held is pauses to great effect. There was the slightly edgy tone to the strings that I think can suit Beethoven well. The main theme was taken briskly with no lack of excitement, drama and, if I'm honest, rather more volume than is necessary in the Queen's Hall.

Then came Beethoven's second concerto, probably my least favourite of the five. The sound of the orchestra was much smoother here. He had sensibly positioned the piano facing into the orchestra with the lid removed, doubtless to direct the orchestra better. However, here was Beethoven playing not nearly so exciting as in the overture, though in fairness it is a less dramatic work. His reading was not without the odd note, but there was a wonderful delicacy to his playing of the sort that has been absent this season. It was a solid performance without being a great or especially individualistic one.

The finale to this all-Beethoven programme came with the 6th symphony, again, probably my least favourite. The first too movements have often the quality of wallpaper music unless very well played and as a whole it rarely grabs me. Zacharias made a fair stab at it. Again the tones were smooth, and he played the first movement in a wonderful throbbing, pulsing and sweeping manner, injecting it with an interest too often absent. The first thing that struck me in the andante was that the first violins sounded extremely odd, and I couldn't put my finger on why, eventually I noticed something clipped onto their bridges, which turned out to be a mute. Now, while I don't love the symphony I have many recordings and have heard it in concert a number of times and I've never spotted this before, or since. A bit of googling doesn't find much support either, and I'm told it isn't in the score. I'd like to hear it again, as I was distracted by wondering what on earth was going on. Still, it did make a dull movement interesting. The allegro was solid, but the winds could have been better (as good as they were at the 2006 Festival when they performed this for Mackerras, say; of course, back then Ursula Leveaux was still principal bassoon, and sonically the orchestra are poorer without her). I can't quite believe I'm making this complaint, but the bassoons were actually a bit too prominent. Yes, often they are swamped, but by the same token they need to be a touch ethereal. The fourth movement thunderstorm suffered in two respects: first, it was much too loud, and second it lacked the textures that so vividly captured the elements with Mackerras. He didn't quite bring the finale off either, which again was too loud. I'm going to change my seat next year, as I think part of the problem is being up too close, but there have been conductors who've balanced volume better in this hall, and I had expected better from Zacharias. I wonder if I'm alone in this, since I couldn't help but notice that David Watkin had a decibel meter attached to the collar of his jacket. All in all, though, the finest instalment to date.


For Director's Notes IV I had to make the trip out to Glasgow, since the BBC Scottish had inconsiderately booked someone called Donald Runnicles on the Edinburgh night, something I omitted to notice when buying my tickets, and so ended up with a spare that had to be given away. Still, it meant the City Halls, which in turn meant fine sightlines, fine sound and no excess volume problem. Or so I thought. Despite being at the front row of the gallery, where seats are not particular cheap, the rail to stop people on the stairs falling down into the stalls completely blocked my view of most of the stage. I'm not tight-fisted, but I do object to paying the top ticket price for what is a restricted view seat. Fortunately, the person next to me didn't show up, otherwise I would have had to lean close enough to get rather friendlier than I generally like with complete strangers. I will be contacting the hall's management on this score though (annoyingly, as I write this, I can't find a note of the exact number in order to forewarn anyone who may be reading this). To make matters worse, having asked to be keyboard side had done me no good. In a bizarre decision, Stephen Kovacevich, the evening's soloist/director, had angled the piano so his back was to the violins and so he was mainly facing the audience. The third disappointment was a poorly behaved audience, particularly in contrast to the previous evening with Runnicles when someone rustling a bag had gained a dozen glances severe enough to kill. Here people talked, not just whispered, talked, and glances did little to deter them.

In a last minute order change he moved the concerto to the top. It was Mozart's K503. I'm sure his position relative to the band helps explain their uncharacteristically woolly sound. The piano was horribly steely to match, sounding just on the verge of being out of tune. Both orchestra and soloist improved as the piece progressed, and I wondered whether the room's temperature might be to blame for some of it, but the improvement wasn't enough to rescue the piece. The bassoon was not too impressive, the more so after a recent concert where Ursula returned. Kovacevich seemed always to play, never conducting at the same time, in the way that the best who do both roles can. And it showed, or rather sounded.

A long evening was in prospect. But I hadn't reckoned on Mozart's 35th Haffner symphony. This was much more like it. Taut playing, and yet with great attention to detail. True, this was no Mackerras reading, in particular it lacked some of the intricacies of the score which he would have brought out, but it was certainly the next best thing, though the andante could probably have been more so. But, as a whole joyfully played, with wonderfully clipped playing, it more than made up for the concerto.

He closed with Beethoven's fourth symphony, a favourite of mine, and this too was excellent. He brought a good mix of richness and the rough edge which, I have already mentioned, I like in Beethoven. He displayed a wonderful delicacy and lightness of touch, not to mention force as the main theme broke through in the first movement, which was full of excitement and drama. The wind playing was particularly fine here too. He judged the adagio to near perfection but lost his grip somewhat in the third movement which, in his hands, seemed a little cluttered. The finale was thrilling though.

All in all, a most enjoyable conclusion to an, at best, mixed series. It doesn't surprise me terribly that this has not been repeated. Pianists who excel at playing and conducting, and at the same time, are like gold dust. And, in honesty, I don't think there's anything wrong with that.

That other Scottish Chamber Orchestra

There are two Scottish Chamber Orchestras. There is the SCO that has been present at every concert so far this season, a vibrant and talented group, and there is the SCO that was present in the Queen's Hall on Thursday evening, the SCO that shows up when Charles Mackerras is in town. Of course, it isn't true that they have been of uniform standard thus far, they have achieved better results with some conductors than others (Bruggen and Montgomery stand out as the finest examples, and at the other end of the spectrum are the likes of Mustonen against whose onslaught even the SCO's resilience is no match), but Thursday was different. On Thursday they really did feel like a whole other orchestra. There seemed more concentration as David Watkin, principal cellist, hunched forward like a driver with his nose to the windscreen, intent on missing nothing. The tones somehow richer, the precision somehow greater: it seemed to be a wholly different sound. And what a sound.

It has been far, far too long since we've heard Mackerras at the helm of the SCO, not since Haydn's Creation, the opening concert of the 2006/7 season. It could be argued that his absence from last year's festival was an even greater omission that that of Donald Runnicles. He was to have performed about a year ago, in a programme of Mozart's final three symphonies that formed the basis of his recent recording of the final four on Linn Records, but had to cancel. His presence in Australia in the autumn ruled out the opening concert this season, again a great shame (doubly so as we had to make do with Elts). Both the audience and the orchestra both seemed glad to have him back for this all Mozart programme.

The programme opened with Mozart's Sunday Vespers. It isn't a work I know, but from the opening chords the playing was something else. There was some fine singing too, particularly from the SCO's excellent chorus (though they were responsible for my one minor reservation of the evening). Edinburgh's Festival Chorus has a huge problem: not enough men. This was slightly less severe this last year, but often the tenors and bases are sufficiently underpowered or aged that it mars the results. The SCO have tended to be beyond reproach, so I sincerely hope it isn't a sign of times to come that the men had the odd ropey moment. They were joined by a quarter of soloists: soprano Lucy Crowe, mezzo Anna Stephany, tenor Timothy Robinson and bass James Rutherford. Crowe was especially fine, but all of them were impressive. A sign of how good is that within a few bars I had given up and wasn't bothering to follow the text, the performance was too captivating for that.

Things were finer still in the second piece, his motet Exsultate, jubilate. The chorus remained in their seats as riveted as we were to Crowe's wonderful singing. The beaming grin on her face throughout a testament to the sheer joy that pervaded her reading. She sang without a text, and beneath her Mackerras provided sensitive accompaniment, the orchestra playing sublimely. They were justly well received. It would be wonderful if they recorded this.

Just before things got under way, after the standard mobile phone announcement, came a second that the order would change from the programme: instead of splitting the choral works, we would now get the Prague symphony (No.38) in isolation in the second half. This was as sensible as Brendel recently putting the Schubert D960 on its own. Anyone under the impression that the Prague is a poorer brother to the titans that are 40 and 41 has clearly never heard Mackerras play it. After a slowish, tense start the main theme emerges, and for a moment it seemed he was going to give us a reading gentle lyricism, rather out of character. Then came a serious of sharp chords, furiously punctuated by timpanist Caroline Garden shattering that notion. This would be a thrilling reading. Mackerras seemed to observe all repeats, perhaps making this a slightly weightier work than it can be. He exhibited a control and produced a quality of playing that was stunning. No matter what demands he made, the orchestra kept together perfectly, something that hasn't been the case for for all their concerts this season. It's one of Mozart's longer movements (indeed, from the timings on his complete Prague Chamber Orchestra recordings on Telarc, it is the longest by nearly three minutes) and yet I didn't want it to end. But end it did, giving way to a beautifully played slow movement, yet one in which tension and excitement always lurked. The finale was as exciting as the opening and as finely played. There were none of the flaws that have marked many interpretations this season: there was no assumption that simply volume or pace made for excitement. Indeed, with large forces, he did not at all overwhelm a the small hall. Mackerras, and the orchestra, got a deservedly rich reception. And then he showed some sense. He knew that the Prague needed nothing to follow it. Certainly, he could have got away with an encore, but there was no need (indeed, I don't think I've ever heard him play one), and quite right too. I had the 38th swimming in my head for the rest of the evening, nothing to displace it. I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. As I write this I'm listening to the recent CD. It's very fine, and should be bought by everyone, but exceptional though it is, it is a pale shadow of the live treat.

I said at the start that there are two SCOs. In truth it is more of a spectrum, and while we've had other decent performances this year, none of them have strayed into this league. Of course, the SCO is not going to locate a principle conductor who will deliver Mackerras's results on a regular basis, unless he himself wants the job (wishful thinking), but I do profoundly believe they can get closer, a lot closer, a lot more often than they have done this year. The management of the orchestra should take note: this is what can be achieved, and the more you hire conductors who fall far short, the more depressing it is and the more it shows. A performance of this calibre requires you to do much better next season, because it shows everyone that you can.

Another week, another justly unknown conductor

It's becoming all too familiar a theme. I go to an SCO concert, the billed conductor is a name utterly new to me and I leave with no strong desire to improve my knowledge of them. Of course, I accept that everyone has to start somewhere, and there were doubtless times when even greats like Charles Mackerras, Claudio Abbado and even Donald Runnicles occasioned the response: WHO! But there are two key differences here. Firstly, the sheer proportion of the SCO's roster for this season who fall into this category. Second, even those who would doubtless be dubbed the up and coming don't strike me as being destined to go that far. I've seen several artists at times when they were much less famous than they are now: Daniel Harding is one example, mezzo Christine Rice (who still has some way to go) is another, I'm sure I could think of more. But the point is, when I've seen them, I've heard something that causes a mental note to be made in my brain, a note that in five, ten, twenty years this person may well be delivering something very special indeed. But when faced with the likes of Olari Elts, I just do not see it. Doubtless this situation is due to finances which makes the likes of Mackerras or Zacharius sparse. If so it is a crying shame: the SCO is one of the finest chamber orchestras I have heard and they deserve more conductors of a calibre matching their own.

On Thursday 31st January it was the turn of Paul Meyer. Despite living just round the corner from the hall, I didn't get to my seat with all that much time to spare, I therefore hadn't read the programme as carefully as I might. As I listened to the first piece (Mozart's Incidental Music for Konig Thamos), I became increasingly baffled - this sounded nothing like any Mozart I'd ever heard, and Mozart is generally pretty easily identifiable. My confusion mounted, not helped by the fact that, as is my custom, I'd put the programme on the floor for duration of the piece. In the second movement I caught a glimpse of another programme over someone's shoulder and all became clear: we were not listening to Mozart at all but to Poulenc's Sinfonietta (the confusion had arisen as the programme also contained the information for the previous night's concert in St Andrews). The Poulenc was unknown to me, though after the fine concert at the close of the festival, it is good to hear more. Meyer took it very quickly, and the orchestra held together admirably well. However their sound was very thin, leading me to wonder if Poulenc isn't better served by a larger orchestra, certainly I remember a wonderful richness to Deneve's performances (admittedly of other works) with the the RSNO. However, it was perfectly fine, if nothing to write home about, and certainly a vast improvement over the previous week's train wreck.

This was followed by Mozart's flute concerto with soloist Alison Mitchell (the orchestra's principal flautist). In fairness to all concerned, while everyone who's listened to them played well knows from his piano concertos that Mozart was a master of the form, his flute concerto is not his finest hour. When I'm singing the SCO's praises, one of the main reasons is the quality of many of its principals: cellist David Watkin and clarinetist Maximiliano Martin always spring to mind, they can more than hold their own as soloists. Sadly the same isn't quite true of Mitchell. She doesn't have the same flair and her first few bars were decidedly ropey (leading me to question whether she was fully warmed up). All in all, it was a perfectly adequate performance, but nothing more. That Meyer was not an especially sensitive accompanist didn't help much.

After the interval we got a reliable old warhorse in the form of Mendelssohn's 4th symphony, the Italian. It has some of the best tunes he wrote and is always enjoyable. Meyer turned in a fairly solid reading, though he did seem in something of a rush. I would also have liked a little more contrast to the interpretation. Still, unlike Mustonen, it was at least enjoyable. But I was left wondering what other hands might have done with it: what might Bruggen have done, it would be interesting to hear after his far more compelling Scottish symphony (a work I like less)?

So, if anyone from the SCO is listening: hire more conductors of a higher order (and it wouldn't hurt to issue some dress instructions).

Mustonen't hear, let alone see, Mustonen

The SCO have had some pretty poor pianists this season, mainly of the thumping variety. In part this series, Director's Notes, will correct this (Zacharius is coming, as is Kovacevich, sadly so is thumper Piotr Anderszewski). The other feature is that the pianist will conduct. There are some who have made the transition very well, Barenboim being perhaps the most prominent example of recent times. There are others who haven't: Perahia falls into this category for me, but then I never really rated his pianism much either and I don't think Ashkenazy is nearly so fine a conductor as he was a pianist.

So, to Olli Mustonen. Finn heard him in solo recital at the festival last year. He mentioned his odd mannerisms, the hands descending to the keyboard from a great height. He was not impressed. But nothing he told me had quite prepared me for the experience.

To begin with, things were fairly innocuous. Prokofiev's first symphony is a nice little miniature. Many conductors this season have mistakenly conflated volume with excitement and drama, similarly Mustonen did so with tempi. He went at a breakneck pace and the SCO kept up admirably well. The result, however, was rather dull. Oddly, though, the slow movements were much too slow, and no more interesting. Compared to Gergiev's recent LSO recordings this was poor. More interestingly, was a question of the extent to which he was actually conducting. His movements were disjointed and angular and often seemed to have little effect or to follow the music. I spent much of the piece trying to judge whether the orchestra might just be getting on as best they could without him.

The certainly were (or should that be weren't) in Beethoven's 3rd piano concerto. It was here that Mustonen made my list. I have a list, a real list in the back of one of my notebooks. It contains the names of artists that, if someone wants me to hear them again, they will need not only to pay for the wild horses it will take to drag me there but also for the restraints needed to keep me there. Roger Norrington, with his infuriatingly smug grin, colossal ego and annoying habit of turning to the audience mid-movement when his attention is clearly needed elsewhere, is one example. Norrington is unique in that when I saw him I was filled with a strong urge to punch him in the face (which I stress I did not, and would not, act upon). I'm not a violent person and no other performance has inspired feelings of violence in me, so I avoid him. Mustonen is similar. But his trick was different: he prompted not rage but nausea. The first problem is that clearly front/centre stalls in the Queen's Hall, despite being the most highly priced tickets, are useless sonically when there is a piano in the middle of a full SCO. The balance was horribly odd, the baffles placed between piano and winds can't have helped. Orchestrally, clearly it would be no picnic. Then Olli Mustonen sat down.

I'm going to try and describe the effect but it isn't going to be easy. First there are the mannerisms, the hands float a foot or more above the keyboard before descending with all the accuracy of an American precision guided munition striking the fluffy bunny animal shelter in place of the terrorist (and with results very nearly as awful). His fingers are oddly tensed like claws and his hands shake noticeably. He'll strike the keys and role his hands so that he plays with the sides of his fingers. Unsurprisingly, there is no shortage of wrong notes. Closing my eyes did no good, I couldn't shake the image.

Would that were the worst problem. There was something very odd about his notes. The duration of many of them seemed wrong. Almost as if he was playing the right tones (well, sometimes) but changing crotchet to quaver at personal whim. Like someone with a bizarre speech impediment, sometimes his fingers garbled the notes together in too rapid succession and at others stumbled awkwardly over them. The result was sickening. I sat there with my jaw gaping, a hand clutched to my face, wondering whether it might be possible to get out during a movement break. I was not alone, the door banged several times as others who could no longer stomach it fled.

Then there is direction, or rather a total lack of it when the pianist is sitting down. The orchestra, for the most part of it, are getting on with their own thing. Some of them looked downright baffled. Things were much better when he stood up, not because orchestrally things picked up but rather that he was no longer playing and thus blessed relief was provided. But it was temporary, all to soon would come the terrifying sight of him returning to his seat.

The applause was relatively strong, and for one horrible moment I thought we might get an encore. I know I have impossible standards for this sort of piece, but to even clap this sort of inept playing is beyond me. I was tempted to boo. Instead I sat with my arms folded and glared.

The second half was to consist of Mozart's 39th Symphony, but I could bear no more. Given the Prokofiev, it would probably have been acceptable, there is, after all, no piano part. But I needed to escape, I ran for the hills, or at least the safety of my flat.

Messiaen's tall tales: Peter Hill and the SCO Chamber Ensemble play the Quartet for the End of Time

It is rapidly becoming clear to me that the highlight of the SCO season is going to be these Sunday afternoon chamber concerts. For a start, they offer excellent value, where £12 buys you just an hour in the awful acoustic of St Cuthbert's church for a Cl@six concert, here it buys you a full couple of hours of glorious chamber music. The choice is a simple one.

This programme had been put together with an intelligence altogether absent from Elts' Invitation to Dance. Hill and the ensemble knew that you cannot possibly pair anything with the Quatuor pour la fin du temps (The Quartet for the End of Time, to those whose French is even more tenuous than mine). So instead of trying, or doing the obvious of not having anything (which still would have provided reasonable value), they chose instead to have Peter Hill give a talk. A noted Messiaen pianist, as anyone who has sampled his complete survey of the composer's piano music will be aware, he is also a scholar. According to the liner notes of his Messiaen recordings, he teaches at the University of Sheffield and has published books such as The Messiaen Companion, Stravinsky: The Rite of Spring and a biography of Messiaen with Nigel Simeone, not to mention making over 100 programme for the BBC.

These talents were on display as he gave us a brief history of Messiaen's life, illustrated musically at various points (including a few beautiful minutes of the composer improvising on the organ at the end of a church service as the congregation were meant to be leaving, as the applause attested they didn't, the music was interestingly unlike anything he wrote for the organ). Hill told us how Messiaen exaggerated the circumstances of the composition within a POW camp during world war two (to which all French soldiers seemed to have taken their musical instruments), the bizarre congregation of a pianist, clarinettist, violinist and cellist and the quartet that resulted. But the cello did not, as the composer liked to relate, have only 3 strings, nor was the premier outside to 5000 prisoners (as Hill remarked, a suspiciously biblical number from this most religious person), but rather in the camp's theatre to 400, many of whom were guards. He walked us through the movements, several of which had been written prior to meeting of the quartet. He was an engaging and informative speaker, and his Sheffield students are lucky.

After a brief interval he was joined by three of the SCO's finest: cellist David Watkin, clarinettist Maximiliano Martin and violinish Christopher George. All four gave a superb and utterly compelling reading, and showed just how well served with fine players the SCO really is. It's difficult to write more. I don't know the work all that well, and my one recording doesn't compare, suffice to say I'm now looking for another. If I had one reservation, it is that George doesn't quite shine in the chamber setting quite so brightly as the other three, he lacks the panache of both Watkin and Martin. But it is a small quibble with a moving performance.

SCO: Short-Changing Orchestra?

"I will be clear". A simple phrase, though if you believe The Economist's Charlemagne one which according to a guide written by British diplomats for interpreting their French counterparts means "I will be rude". And I suppose that's what I mean with this post. So, before I am, I should say who I'm being clear about: the comments I am about to make are not directed against the players of the SCO themselves, for whom I have great respect and admiration, but against the management of their orchestra, of whom I cannot say the same.

I've been to my share of poor concerts and worse in my time, but it is rarely the case that I genuinely feel short-changed. It was, to some extent, the case with Deborah Voigt's recent appearance at the Festival, as I said at the time, I feel it is something of a liberty to charge that kind of money for a voice that is so far past it. But it was at least interesting to have seen Mr Tilson Thomas, even if it is an experience I have no desire to repeat.

Much the same could be said of the SCO's Cl@six concerts. £12 seems increasingly to represent not much of a bargain. After all, it is half the length of a standard concert, in much less comfortable seats and with much worse sight lines (of course, if your are a student or a pension it is a better deal, but I am not, so they win no points from me on that score).

The idea was, as I remarked after the first one, a good one, having been first though of by Brian McMaster, former Festival director, who pioneered it with a superb series of the Beethoven symphonies from Mackerras and the SCO. However, as I noted then, it was not without its problems, and price was not the most significant. The reverberant venue of St Cuthbert's church was less than ideal for the 13 piece ensemble that played Mozart's Gran Partita, but when the full SCO took to what cannot reasonably be called the stage, it was intolerable.

I would like to review the performance itself, but that really isn't possible. The way the sound resonated the quality of the playing couldn't be judged since the musical lines were so unclear. Titled Invitation to Dance, we got Dvorak's Czech Suite, Kodaly's Dances of Galanta and Bartok's Romanian Dances, with Ligeti's Salon Dances from Old Hungary as an encore. The first thing to note is that this programming was a poor judgement on Elts' part. I have little love for him after his poor Sibelius, but less now. The genius of the McMaster 6pm (or 5.30 as his were) slot was that it was one work, to be appreciated in isolation. A beautifully played Beethoven 8th symphony, coming in well under half an hour, could be savoured and didn't feel like poor value for £10. This point seems to have escaped either Elts, the SCO management, or both. Elts' reading, to the extent it could be judged, in no way ever really came close to conjuring anything reminiscent of a dance.

I will be clear: had I known how bad the hall was, there is no way I would have bought tickets. I genuinely feel cheated and I am curious to know who was responsible for the decision to hold the concerts here. Either they had never heard the hall, in which case they were simply negligent, or they had and either didn't mind or didn't care, which shows either an incompetence or a contempt for the paying customer. I understand that if they wanted to use the west end it may have been this or nothing (as the Usher Hall is closed for refurbishment), but on that basis they should have chosen nothing. Or moved things to the Queen's Hall, which has one of the finest acoustics going.

All of which leaves me wondering what I'll do about the next few concerts. One is from the SCO chorus (which I will almost certainly attend). The hall's acoustic may, perhaps, be better suited to that, but also as I have a relative who sings with them. I may also go to the four seasons. I don't really like the work, but the violinist/director is Anthony Marwood who treated us to Ades's wonderful violin concerto recently.

It also makes me hope to high heaven that the people nearby who where chatting away about Elts (and implying there were in the know) were completely wrong in thinking that the SCO have him in mind for the music directorship. If they do, and they're reading this: for the love of God NO. Hire someone worthy of this fine orchestra. I refuse to believe it can be that hard to find someone who fits that criterion.

If the venue doesn't change next year, and this series repeats, I shall be saving myself £60 that could be better spent. I'd advise any discriminating listener to do the same.

BANG, BANG!

Sing the characters in Sondheim's gem of a musical Marry me a Little. They're talking about sex, of course, but they could just as easily have been describing the pianism of Polina Leschenko. The former is preferable.

The concert, on Thursday 8th November, was an interesting one for me. The views of the Scottish press of the SCO's former chief conductor, Joseph Swensen are favourable, as is my impression from the one or two CDs I have heard, so I was curious to hear him in action. The start was not promising. They played a little known piece by Puccini called I Crisantemi. The programme describes it as a string quartet. However, since there were rather more than four players on the platform, one must assume some orchestration had gone on, but Svend Brown's programme note provided no illumination. Neither, for the most part did the piece which, while there was some nice enough playing, seemed justly obscure.

This was followed by the Chopin piano concerto. Or, rather, a brief pause as the chairs were moved about, during which the cellos decamped to the side stalls and chatted with one or two members of the audience. As the piano was moved closer, it occurred to me that the front row, while ideal in the Queen's Hall for chamber concerts, might yield less that ideal balance here. That was the least of my concerns. Leschensko is a thumper. No subtlety, but every note banged out. This may be to some tastes, but not mine and as a result the experience was fairly unbearable. Swensen's accompaniment was better, though he seemed to follow the example set by Fischer in mistakenly equating loudness with excitement.

The second half was an improvement: Schumann's 1st (spring) symphony. Swensen gave a dramatic and exciting reading, in many ways everything the concerto hadn't been. The playing was much sharper too. However, the middle movements were somewhat rushed, but perhaps that comes of being used to Bernstein's later recordings. He could have offered more contrast, both in tempo and more importantly in volume which was, most of the time, far, far too loud. Like many of the SCO's conductors this season, he seems to cope poorly with larger works in the small hall.

Swensen seemed to have garnered much enthusiastic praise for his years as the SCO's music director, but I have to say I wasn't blown away. A slightly odd conductor to watch, with a very angular style of movement, almost like a marionette at times and annoyingly reminiscent of Michael Tilson Thomas. To be sure, his (or indeed, any) guiding touch is missing from an orchestra that has had no music director since he left, but once again it is a disappointment that an orchestra with players of this calibre does not seem to attract conductors of the same level.


Two weeks later, and history was repeating itself. This time the conductor of the day was Diego Masson. Who? You might well ask. Well, you haven't missed much. He opened with Rossini's overture: The Silken Ladder. The orchestra's playing was not particularly sharp and there were rather too many fluffed notes (from the winds and horns particularly). His reading was not really light or playful as Rossini should be.

Then came Piotr Anderszewski to play Mozart's 21st Concerto (it was to have been the Schumann concerto, but having never performed it before he got cold feet at the last minute, in truth the substitution was a merciful one as the Mozart is briefer). Bang, bang! Again, from the first piano notes it was all downhill. Not only did he thump like anything, but there wasn't even any passion behind it, a performance that was horribly matter of fact in the way the notes followed one another. Overly romantic, for Mozart, and with conductor and soloist seeming not to be playing quite the same reading. The beautiful slow movement lacked any poetry. To make matters worse Anderszewski revealed an extremely annoying grunting, groaning, almost moaning, singing mannerism. The finale too was deeply unimpressive. One to be avoided, it is with horror, therefore, that I notice I have him again later in the season. One lesson seems to leap from this: the season ticket, which seemed a nice idea at the time, was a hideous mistake.

In the second half he brought us Stravinsky's Concerto in D. It was a competent reading, but devoid of the kind of electricity that Stravinsky really needs to shine. This was followed by Haydn's 88th symphony. Masson played too loudly and a reading that, like Fischer's Beethoven, felt a little rough around the edges. It lacked the sparkle, joy, humour and, well, anything that marks out great Haydn, stodgy and overly intellectual instead. So, if Masson is unknown to you, there is no hurry to rectify this (if rectify can indeed be said to be the correct term).

Sometime I feel we need a society to campaign against thumping pianists, to champion the likes of Kempff or Uchida. But even Paul Lewis, who plays the Hammerklavier with as much force and passion as I've heard, but who is capable of getting volume without thumping, a skill that is apparently beyond the reach of messrs Anderszewski and Leschenko. Pitty. Will the SCO please start engaging pianists who do not thump! It is, I suppose, some comfort that in a few months time the sublime Christian Zacharias will be paying a visit (if he was willing, and the orchestra had the sense, they would engage him as their music director).

The Scottish CHAMBER Orchestra

In addition to the regular evening concerts and the Cl@six concerts, a third string to the SCO's programme is its Chamber ensemble. Performing at 2.30 on a Sunday afternoon, this season's first programme proved that they are something of a treat. We were given Dvorak's string quintet in G and Brahms sextet in B flat.

Both might as well have been selected just for me as they have prominent cello parts, and I'm very fond of the instrument. In the Dvorak, as the programme note tells us, the double bass takes the bass line away from the cello allowing it greater freedom. And the cello here, Su-a Lee, is always a joy to hear. The SCO is extremely lucky in having not just one exceptional cellist but two (principle cello David Watkin will be playing later this month in Messiaen's Quartet for the End of Time, which promises to be rather special). The rest of the ensemble was excellent too.

Interestingly, perhaps because they come from an orchestra, the communication between the players was more subtle than in some ensembles I've seen, but must have been there as the playing was very tight. I recalled the Janacek quartet playing the piece at the 2005 Edinburgh festival, but on examining my programme it seems we actually got the quintet in E flat. I remember not being especially bowled over by it, and wondering if Dvorak's string quartet writing was to blame, this performance suggests otherwise.

The Brahms was interesting too. Again, the extra instruments freed the first cello, though this piece is for slightly odd forces: absent the double bass one might expect and instead pairs of violins, violas and cellos. Together they produced a wonderfully rich sound and some stunning playing, particularly the pizzicato at the close of the first movement or the beauty of the cello part in the slow movement.

A lovely concert, and a fine way to spend a Sunday afternoon. It left me with the sneaking suspicion that these may be the highlights of the season. What a pity, then, that the Queen's Hall wasn't a little fuller.

The SCO concert season finally catches fire - Frans Bruggen (who?) conducts Mendelssohn

Frans who, I hear you cry, or possibly not. Certainly the name was unknown to me prior to Thursday (or, at least, prior to my filling out the booking form). Which made it all the more surprising to see a stool on the podium, normally only there for conductors of advancing years, and the older a conductor the more likely it is that one has heard of them. However, as Wikipeida confirms, he is in his early 70s, though the page adds little else to the sum total of human knowledge, a better biography can be found here.

A very tall man, well over 6 feet, he fitted himself into the stool slightly awkwardly, given the space available, and launched into the all Mendelssohn programme with the Overture: The Fair Melusine. This was nice enough, and unknown to me, but didn't seem to stand out as one of Mendelssohn's finest works. What stood out immediately, though, was how much sharper and more disciplined the orchestral playing was than under Fischer last Saturday. However, at times, when the score really caught fire, it made fore a very entertaining performance. He further won me over when, after the overture, rather than swanning on and off milking the applause like some (Mr Tilson Thomas, I'm talking to you), he sat straight back down and switched over to the next score.


That score being the violin concerto. After a few moments he was joined onstage by the young and, it must be noted, very attractive German soloist Viviane Hagner. Actually, I'm not sure her attractiveness must be noted, that's probably rather chauvinistic, still, in her bright, flowered, I suppose oriental in its styling, dress, she was certainly easy on the eyes. All of which would be neither here nor there if she couldn't play well. But play well she certainly can. And with what incredible passion, so much so that strings were breaking on her bow left, right and centre (and she had to keep ripping them off whenever she got a pause). Indeed, it is possible this took its toll as to these ears, by the end of the piece, she seemed to have gone fractionally out of tune, but not so much as to be a problem. Beneath this, Bruggen provided superbly judged accompaniment and support. There was little pause between movements (something that actually works much better than the comparatively pronounced pauses on the CD I was listening to this afternoon). It was well received and she gave us an encore, which she actually introduced but all I caught was "Milstein" (a quick google indicates he was a violinist, but gives no indication as to what the piece might have been). It was pleasant enough, but I was firmly of the opinion it rather spoilt things. The ending of the Mendelssohn is so fine, nothing more needs to be said.

After the interval it was the turn of, perhaps predictably, given the location, the 3rd 'Scottish' symphony. If I'm honest, I'm no great fan of this work, much preferring both the 'Italian' 4th and the 'Reformation' 5th. But Bruggen won me over with a wonderful reading. An excellent precision to the playing of the SCO, such that it made its absence from Fischer's performance even more noticeable. Intensely passionate and yet light hearted when required, this was the SCO at their very best, and a reading that has fully won me over to the work.

I've been a little lukewarm about the concerts so far this season, even going so far as wonder whether block booking was a mistake, but this has reminded me why I did it. In contrast to Elts' Sibelius and Fischer's Beethoven, I might have passed this by, and that would have been a mistake. In truth, Bruggen did have it slightly easier than Fischer and Elts, as I know the repertoire far less well. And yet, I've heard plenty of 'Scottish' symphonies before without being won over.

It also answers the question posed at the start of this post: is Bruggen unfairly unknown? To which the answer must be an emphatic yes. Let's hope he returns.

Not really a fair comparision - Thierry Fischer and the SCO play Beethoven and Haydn

In my review of the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra's concerts, I mentioned that it was unfair to have to follow the Bavarians as even the best ensembles would pale somewhat in comparison. Similarly, Thierry Fischer's programme contained material that we have heard (or heard similar) from one of its finest exponents in the last year or so, with the same orchestra. However, given that, one cannot but compare. I should say up front though, that last Saturday's was by far the finest concert so far of the SCO season.

The second thing I'll say, before I get onto the business of actually reviewing the concert is that it was utter nonsense that the opening concert of Sibelius couldn't have fitted into the Queen's Hall, given the scale of the forces we had for this one. It felt a little odd for the first few stalls rows to be missing and the orchestra sitting there instead.

The programme opened with Beethoven's 5th symphony, which Mackerras played so brilliantly in his revelatory cycle of the symphonies at the 2006 festival, and played with such sheer passion and joy the year before by Barenboim and his West-Eastern Divan Orchestra. Fischer gave us a fast and furious reading which in its way was quite exciting. But there were problems. When compared with the detail that Mackerras drew from the score, the wonderful surprises therein as well as the quality of the textures he produced, there was a lack of focus and precision to Fischer's reading. And while there was no shortage of pace, there was also not the kind of momentum that there should be to this symphony.

There were other problems too. I'm not sure where they had rehearsed, and clearly they had been in a more appropriately sized hall on Friday when in Glasgow's City Halls, but where I was in the stalls it was a little loud. I'm overly sensitive to this, but there wasn't the dynamic range that there ought to be, where were the quiet contrasts? The SCO's horns were once again a weak link, fluffing more than their share of notes. And, perhaps most crucially, Fischer didn't really build the tension. Take, for example, the transition into the finale: he didn't really slow up all that much. This should be a moment of unbearable anticipation, but Fischer seemed almost over-eager to leap into the finale. It wasn't a bad reading, but it was not in the same class as the two great ones mentioned above.

The second half comprised Haydn's Harmoniemesse, not a work I know. And yet the competition is stiff here too as Mackerras opened the last SCO season with a performance of the Creation. An immediate plus is that this means the SCO Chorus, who are always wonderful to listen to, and Saturday was no exception. Again, it was certainly an exciting reading, but seemed a little rushed. There is some great beauty in Haydn's choral writing, but Fischer didn't seem all that interested in slowing to take it in. Tempo alone is not a key to drama and excitement.

The soloists were a bit of mixed bag. Both soprano Joanne Lunn and mezzo Tove Dahlberg were good, but tenor James Gilchrist and bass Stephan Loges were rather poor, indeed when the latter sang his first notes, the first of any singers, I worried it could be a trying experience. Fortunately he was not isolated that often.

In fairness, I should point out that the orchestra and chorus seem to genuinely enjoy working with Fischer, and he's clearly a nice guy (from the way he was chatting with them enjoying a drink at the bar afterwards, as we were with a friend in the chorus), but that doesn't a great conductor make.

"Plagiarise.....let no one else's work evade your eyes...

Only be sure always to call it, please, research". So said the great mathematician Nikolai Ivanovich Lobachevsky. Okay, in fairness, and before he (or rather his heirs, since he himself has been dead for over one hundred and fifty years) sues me, I should point out that in fact it was American satirist Tom Lehrer who said it, and he used Lobachevsky's name for, in his own words, "purely prosodic reasons". However, in the best spirit of the song, and its guide to the secret of success in academia, the SCO have been inspired by one of the great innovations of McMaster's final festival in 2006: the short, single work, early evening concert. In that festival, they were Charles Mackerras's cycle of the Beethoven symphonies, also featuring the Philharmonia for the 9th. They have, however, made one sensible modification and shifted the time back from 5.30 to 6.00, no bad thing as they were always a little trickier to get to if your office wasn't in the west end.

The setting has moved too, though how much this was necessity due to the closure of the Usher Hall and how much a positive choice to be in St Cuthbert's is not clear. They obviously could have used their regular home in the Queen's Hall, but doubtless they wanted to be close the office district the surrounds the Lothian Road. St Cuthbert's is set very nicely at the west end of Princes Street Gardens, at a slightly lower level than the main road, making for a rather tranquil environment (and not one that is plagued by police sirens as can be heard inside the Usher Hall). It's a nice building inside too, in shape (particularly with regard to its galleries) not unlike the Queen's Hall, though rather larger. The main difference being that where the Queen's Hall has its rear wall (the one the performers sit with their backs to), completing its roughly shoebox shape, St Cuthbert's has a semi-circular and domed area (the religious name of which I do not know), which doubtless would accommodate a choir. Just before this, the performing area is rather hemmed in by the immovable (marble) font and pulpit on either side.

Sitting down, this being a church, and the seats instead being pews, is uncomfortable, even for the relatively short duration of the performance. The ticket price is rather steep too, at £12. Mackerras and the SCO in Beethoven, frankly a bigger name than anything we are getting in this series was a flat £10 in the far more comfortable Usher Hall. Of course, if you're a senior then it's cheaper at £9 and for some reason students get in for just £5. I'm neither; so, if they're reading this, the SCO get a poor score in that regard. A flat rate price would be fairer. The more so since given the high average age of the audience, I had the distinct impression I was subsidising them.

The programme, if such it can be called was rather dear too at £1. Really more of a leaflet, the size of 3 A5 sheets, folded into a booklet. The most interesting information was contained on the back:

Everyone's A Critic

Welcome to pupils from Gracemount High School who are in the audience tonight. They've been working with Rowena Smith, music critic for The Herald and The Guardian newspapers, to learn about the skills needed for writing about music. To find out what they thought of the concert, visit www.sco.org.uk to read their reivews!

Anybody can take part in Everyone's A Critic. Simply write a review and send it to info@sco.org.uk. You may see it on the SCO website!

If I was being cruel, I might question how well equipped Smith is tutor people in those skills, but I shall refrain. Foolishly, I'd managed to sit behind four of these aspiring writers and, very possibly Smith herself. Now, as an amateur who is passionate both about music and writing about it, I welcome encouraging the next generation in the same direction. But it strikes me that there is one skill which should be taught possibly above all others: invisibility. These four your aspiring critics sat constantly scribbling and even whispering to each other, and Smith (if, indeed, she it was) did nothing to admonish them. Now, I'll concede that it's difficult to remember all the things you want to about a performance, but I make a point of not taking notes during the playing, and then scribble them furiously during the applause (I usually now do so in the programme, though was prevented tonight as the paper was black). I've developed a few techniques for making sure I remember the things that I want to. But I feel that anything falling by the wayside is preferable to my marring someone else's enjoyment purely for a blog post. It's always easier to remember details the less good a performance is, but, to be honest, even with a notepad on hand, scribbling furiously, I think you'd still struggle to write in a truly inspiring reading.

So then, to the concert. And I realise I've nearly done something I hate in reviews: take up the vast majority not actually talking about the performance. In fairness, though, what irritates me about those reviews, and you see it a lot during the festival, is when you get a long, generic description of the work(s) on the programme that could easily have been written months before, followed by a sentence or two on the actual performance. And while that might appear to be what you're getting here, it is fair to say that this post couldn't have been written yesterday, well, the opening paragraph excepted.

Thirteen members of the SCO, the wind section, took to the stage under the baton, or rather fingers, of Thierry Fischer. As I overheard someone else question, it it worth asking whether a conductor was really necessary for Mozart's serenade for thirteen wind instruments, the Gran Partita. My theory is that since he is here for Saturday's concert of Beethoven's 5th symphony and Haydn's Harmoniemesse, they decided to get their money's worth. Right from the start it became clear what the biggest problem would be: the hall's acoustic. Perhaps the way they were crowded together didn't help, maybe it was the domed ceiling of the area behind them, maybe some other aspect of acoustic science that is beyond my grasp. Whatever the explanation, the hall, or rather church, was far too reverberant. It rather reminded me of the Giulini recording of Bach's B Minor mass that was playing on my iPod for most of yesterday. That was recorded in St Paul's Cathedral, and while the BBC's engineers worked miracles taming it, the problems can still be heard at the end of each track. Here they were omnipresent, and it made for what sounded much less clear playing than it doubtless was. There was some fine work, most notably from clarinetist Maximiliano Martin (when I saw the orchestra in Glasgow on Friday, I did wonder if he was still there, as I had heard rumours he was getting itchy feet, but as the diminutive musician swayed in his seat and played wonderfully, the explanation became clear: he has merely cut most of his hair off).

The other main fault lay with the conductor. As a reading it altogether lacked the sort of sparkle that someone like Mackerras brings to this combination of orchestra and composer. It was nice enough, but it didn't dance, there was never the urge to tape or conduct along. He seemed to plough a slightly unsatisfactory middle ground between that and a more rich and sedate reading. It only really fully caught fire in the allegretto section of the 5th movement. The variations felt a little rushed. It was certainly a perfectly fine, solid reading, and it wasn't as though it was littered with mistakes, but I just wanted something more taught, something with more punch. Something, for example, along the lines of the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra's recording (showing, incidentally, that a conductor is not needed).

Midway through the concert another issue became apparent, there is a drawback to the six o'clock start: it's teatime. It needs to be a better performance to overcome this. Perhaps November's effort, which eschews the single work formula for dances from Dvorak, Bartok and Kodaly will fair better.

A new beginning...?

Friday evening found me sitting on a train to Glasgow, sadly not to take advantage of Donald Runnicles' debut as music director of the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra, for which I will have to wait another two years. But for another debut, that of Olari Elts, the new Principle Guest Conductor of the Scottish Chamber Orchestra. This also marked the opening of the SCO's 2007/8 season and the start of a new series of posts dedicated to that season (since I've been foolish enough to buy a season ticket). Actually, though, that season ticket hadn't included this concert and I'm not sure I would have headed over to Glasgow, but for the fact this was an all-Sibelius programme. Elts is a young (36) Estonian conductor who should have good pedigree in this area, having won the International Sibelius Conductors' Competition in 2000.

The move to Glasgow and the nice City Halls venue had, apparently, been necessitated by the closure of the Usher Hall for refurbishment (which means all Edinburgh SCO concerts this season are being played in the smaller Queen's Hall). Apparently this programme required too great forces to be done there. If they say so, though apparently it will have no problems accommodating Mendelssohn's 3rd symphony or his and Tchaikovsky's violin concertos.

Elts opened the first piece, The Swan of Tuonela, very quietly. A novelty, for an SCO concert, was the sight of a timpanist in addition to Caroline Garden (who was playing the large bass drum - with which she produced a wonderful sound). He took a delicate, carefully sculpted approach, the orchestra's playing always very light and a little pretty. Indeed, it was rather too light much of the time, as was shown by the wonderful richness the orchestra was capable of on the rare occasions when he let them go. He brought a nice symmetry with the quiet end, and yet it would have been nice to have a little more edge to the playing.

This was followed by the violin concerto, with soloist Antje Weithaas standing in impressively at the last minute. Both soloist and orchestra produced a lovely string tone. Weithaas played with a real passion, accentuated by her angular bowing style. But this was in stark contrast to Elts' rather laid back accompaniment (though this did improve towards a rather exciting close). For the beautiful slow movement they seemed much more on the same page and Elts got a good balance between soloist and orchestra. One thing that begins to stand out is that he is clearly not one to go in for forte. The finale was good too, but Elts' passion didn't always match Weithaas's.

The second half opened with Valse Triste and Scene with Cranes from Kuolema. And he had tough competition since it is but a few weeks since Jansons gave the former in a wonderful encore, next to which this was very dull. The orchestra had a very thin sound, perhaps because Elts insisted on going rather slower and quieter than they could. His readings of both pieces seemed overly intellectual. The reception was decidedly lukewarm for a hall so full.

The concert closed with the 7th symphony. The start was horribly rushed, so much so that it took me a few moments to take it in. The orchestral sound was also rather nastily blurred and the big themes lacked emotion, although this improved somewhat after the cello theme. There were some annoyingly flouncing, Tilson Thomas-esque gestures. The first entry of the trombones, one of the wonders of this symphony, was spoilt by poor balance, managing, impressively, to overwhelm them with the rest of the ensemble. Frequently the music was garbled due to the speed and the reading hewed the work of the faster and slower contrasts its various sections usually provide. The lovely icy wind theme on the violins and other strings was devoid of any kind of chill. Again and again I found myself wishing Elts would slow down. Towards the end, as Elts built to one of the work's climaxes, he finally let the orchestra go for the first real forte of the evening, but the richness of the orchestra was transmuted into a musical cacophony. Again the trombones were drowned out, giving no sense of symmetry, but to some extent that didn't matter since the reading as a whole had none of the sense of journey that I find so key to this work. Funnily enough, though, the work's closing bars were well played and satisfying. What really crippled the reading was its tempo. It came in at less than 20 minutes. Bernstein's sluggish reading lasts just shy of 25 in comparison. But even compared with Oramo's 21.19, certainly not one to hang around, this is very quick.

All in all, not an especially promising start and boding ill for the rest of the season. The performance raises three questions for me. Firstly, how on earth did Elts come to win the Sibelius competition in the first place, though it must be said that these things are to some extent a matter of taste? Secondly, why cannot the SCO attract a new top notch conductor? Mackerras is still affiliated, as is Swensen, but the music directorship has been vacant since he left. They are a top band, one of the finest chamber orchestras in the UK, finding a really good conductor to lead them shouldn't present the slightest difficulty (any more than finding the top notch section leaders they have presently was, I'm thinking particularly of cellist David Watkin and clarinetist Maximilian Martin). And, thirdly, was buying this season ticket a hideous mistake? Well, I've only heard Elts in one composer, granted one he claims expertise in, so it would be premature to judge, but if the rest of his concerts aren't better, they will be an endurance.