Open Writing

Vivaldi, Khachaturian, Brahms, Krommer, Elgar; Shaun Purkiss (guitar), Nigel Harrison (clarinet/conductor), Northland Sinfonia Orchestra, St. John’s Church, Whangarei, Northland, New Zealand, 2.5.2009 [Pse].

There’s a lovely little tale of the young John Barbirolli, rehearsing Die Meistersinger in 1932. He pulled up Lotte Lehmann over a mere trifle. Momentarily elevating an eyebrow, she calmly corrected her mistake. Afterwards, she told him, not unkindly, “You know, it would have been all right tonight.” He replied, “Of course. I know that. But, if I hadn’t let you know I’d noticed, what would you have thought of me then?”

This tale has a point other than the obvious, one that applies to reviewers as much as rehearsing musicians: you can afford to fuss over minor fluffs only if they are rare. I can recall any number of reviews of “typical” amateur performances that amounted to catalogues of fluffs ending with a “Well done!” or something similar. I couldn’t help wondering: were they applauding the performance in spite of the fluffs, or the outstanding quality of the fluffs themselves?

It’s funny, but also has its serious side. By and large, if lots of fluffs are to be expected, then if they occur they don’t need detailing, but if they don’t, then they do – and, as JB demonstrated, vice versa. It may seem as obvious as it sounds convoluted, yet to the best of my knowledge no-one ever mentions it.

This time round, I noticed no fewer than four substantial changes.

Firstly, there was a new conductor, Nigel Harrison, who’d stepped up from the clarinet section. Although the programme’s “mini-bio” told me that Nigel emigrated from England only the year before I did, it didn’t allude to any previous conducting experience. If that was because Nigel hasn’t any, I must redouble my applause. He conducted with quiet confidence, and a clear beat of which even Dr. Boult would have approved. If he felt any trepidation – which I’ll bet he did! – then he kept it well out of sight.

Secondly, the NSO had grown, more than making up the ground it had lost the last time out. On this occasion we had 3 flutes, 2 oboes, 4 clarinets, 1 bass clarinet, 1 bassoon, 2 trumpets (though one of them looked more than suspiciously like a cornet!), 2 trombones, tympani, percussion, harp, piano and 5-6-3-4-2 strings – a grand total of 39. Whether this is growth or fluctuation, only time will tell

Thirdly, the programme was a lot more adventurous, the customary smattering of bon-bons entirely ousted by slabs of “good, red meat”. Of course, this coming along at the same time as the new kid on the block could be entirely coincidental, but I reckon that, if I’d bet on it being “cause and effect”, the bookie would’ve given me distinctly short odds!

Fourthly, the audience was much bigger! Last time, it had been sadly sparse, though I wasn’t sure whether this was through lack of interest or dearth of publicity. Subsequently a couple of people told me they’d missed it simply because they’d no idea it was on. This time, by flinging the folding partitions to the lobby as wide as Stainer’s “gates”, they’d upped the seating by about 30%. Someone had either good judgement or psychic powers, because – discounting the odd, isolated seat – the place was jam-packed, and there were even some standing at the back.

By anyone’s standards, this was an astonishing turn-around. As I can’t imagine so much interest spontaneously springing from nowhere, I have to attribute it to a few posters, plus notices and a timely article in the local “freebie” papers. It pays to advertise, indeed – but you also need something worth buying.

So, what of the wares? Well, excuse me while I take this rare opportunity to preen myself, but it seems I was spot on about the NSO’s “comfort zone”. Having set their sights higher, they sounded not one whit worse (or, rather, less good) than before! Granted, until they’ve grown a bit more they’ll have to carry on fitting their chosen works to the forces available. Nevertheless, on the whole they’re doing it rather well.

Khachaturian’s famous Agagio of Spartacus and Phrygia, however, was definitely “off the whole”. They were short of at least three horns, a trumpet, a bass trombone, a tuba, a tam-tam, several woodwind and around 30 strings. Even so, a small body of strings can get by, just about, if they dig deep and put in bags of bowing. As it happened, sweetly though they played, they’d probably have had Barbirolli asking them, “Where did you learn to play the violin, in a telephone booth?”

This piece also saw the concert’s one obvious conducting problem: although sounding delicious, the long oboe solo was allowed to get ever slower. Still, considering the near-impossibility of the challenge, they deserve credit for a brave and enjoyable effort – and it was a real effort, as witness the smiling “phew!” of at least one orchestral member! It left me wondering, “What if they’d had the full complement?”

We had two concertos, neither of which incurred any compromises of instrumentation, and both with in-house soloists. Shaun Purkiss stepped forward from the double-basses for Vivaldi’s Concerto for Guitar (RV 93). Shaun, unfussy and articulate, negotiated well lines originally designed for the lute. He invested the central movement with some graceful filigree, against a string accompaniment that was delicate without subduing the treading bass pulse. The outer movements, although lacking that last bit of “edge”, were spirited, sprightly and idiomatic.

Nigel temporarily handed over the baton to the brass section’s Ray Palmer, in order to lick his liquorice in Krommer’s Clarinet Concerto op. 36. A pretty “class” act, Nigel poured out the notes with fluid ease. Occasionally, he tripped during a huge scale-run, but this was only because he refused to compromise the music’s momentum. He brought out the sense of “operatic aria” that emerged late in the first movement, and its continuation in the second he phrased with “vocal ease” (sorry!). The orchestra really got into the swing of this work, almost singing the melodies, and giving the finale’s jolly dotted tune all due dotty jollity.

In his Variations on [a Theme by Haydn/the St. Antoni Chorale] (delete as required), Brahms took care to preserve the character of the original wind band scoring of the theme. The NSO woodwind weren’t slow to capitalise on the opportunity, augmenting the conductor’s robust, sturdy tread with some richly blended sound. It struck me that, if the woodwind go on like this, the NSO will need more strings!

There were a few symptoms of wavery confidence, like the chattery v5. lacking alacrity, the lilting v7. needing a lighter touch, and a general want of sharper accentuation. Against these I must set v2’s specifically snappy sforzandi, which proved that they can accentuate, a particularly genial, horsemanlike v7., and a finale resonant with ripe pomp – giving, on balance, a satisfying experience.

Speaking of “pomp”, just before the last item, Nigel nipped off. He returned sporting a black bowler hat surmounted by a miniature Union Flag, and invited us all to join in at the appropriate points of Elgar’s Pomp and Circumstance March No. 1. We duly obliged. Although it’s not my business to comment on the audience’s performance, I feel obliged to say that they sang to the first appearance of the “Hope and Glory” tune (when, of course, they should merely have hummed). Still, it wasn’t bad, considering the utter lack of rehearsal.

The march itself proved remarkably immune to resource deficiencies. It was taken slower than we’re used to, probably to ensure that the trombones got their tongues around Elgar’s tongue-twisters – which they did, admirably. Yet, it also struck me as so much more of a march, good-natured rather than aggressive, and less England’s answer to the Ruslan and Ludmilla Overture. What’s more, there were incisive accents cracking around all over the place!

What does it all add up to? The previous conductor, Atsuko Fukuoka, did a sterling job of keeping the NSO ticking over. However, she stepped down at a crucial moment. The coincidence of reaching its 70th. anniversary (counting from its first public performance) and the advent of a less experienced but clearly ambitious conductor seems to have put new fire into its collective belly. Sure, they still have a long road to travel, but this concert represented a big, bold first step – and they had the ultimate encouragement, of sending a packed house away smiling from ear to ear. Whatever will be next?