United Kingdom Britten, Dvořák, Wagner, Janáček: Jana Kuruvová (mezzo-soprano), Orchestra of Welsh National Opera / Tomáš Hanus (conductor). St David’s Hall, Cardiff, 4.11.2022. (PCG)
Britten – Peter Grimes: Four Sea Interludes
Dvořák – Biblical Songs
Wagner – Tristan und Isolde: Prelude and Liebestod
Janáček – Sinfonietta
The title Czech Mates sounds no better in Welsh: Clasuron Tsiecaidd! The concert coupled pieces taken from two staples of the operatic repertoire with two works by Czech composers whose opera-writing careers in their lifetimes were almost entirely restricted to their homeland. The conductor, briefly introducing the concert, apologised for the absence of his dress suit which apparently had been delivered to Birmingham by mistake, and that got the evening off to a good-humoured start. The performance was excellent despite any perceived sartorial shortcomings; do many conductors nowadays wear the traditional ‘full fig’ anyway?
The opening of the first sea interlude from Britten’s Peter Grimes is one of the cruellest tests in the repertory for any body of orchestral violins, exposed in their highest register with just a solitary flute to provide any background. The Welsh National Opera forces surmounted any problems triumphantly, and indeed the playing throughout these atmospheric pieces was exceptionally accomplished. One occasionally got the impression that the balance in an orchestra pit might have been slightly different. The timpani at the start of the Storm interlude are normally recessed somewhat beneath the stage. Here they sounded almost as if delivering a concerto, albeit with very exciting results. It is about time that WNO offered us Peter Grimes once again in the opera house. Given this standard of commitment in the playing, I cannot wait; and the WNO chorus remain unrivalled in this music.
Dvořák’s ten Biblical Songs were originally written for voice and piano, and the composer himself orchestrated the first five. The programme note suggested that we were to hear orchestral versions of all ten, including the latter five as completed in 1955 by Jarmil Burghauser and Jan Hanuš. It is a pity that we only got the first five, because Jana Kuruvová’s richly inflected singing left us wishing for more. Also, the predominantly slow settings of the first five songs lack the ideal sense of contrast given by the cycle as a whole. At least, the woodwind playing, so important in Dvořák’s late works from his American period, was a delight, and WNO are to be congratulated for providing a handout complete with texts and translations.
The programme notes promised the Prelude and Liebestod from Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde in a version in which he combined the two into a seamless whole. Ernest Newman in Wagner Nights described it as ubiquitous before WWII, but it has since become an extreme rarity; I first encountered it in a BBC Proms performance in the last decade. What we actually heard was the standard format established since 1945: the Prelude at full length, complete with the dying fade in double-basses as in the complete opera, followed by the Liebestod, similarly at full length but omitting the vocal line. I tend to feel that Wagner’s own synthesis works better, but then we would have been deprived of the chance to hear the ravishing playing of the divided strings in the opening sections of the Liebestod. The climax at the end was as overwhelming as it should be, despite Wagner’s unusually and startlingly reticent dynamic of a single forte for this moment of ‘cosmic totality’. This music positively exults in its liberation from the constriction of the orchestra pit, and the complex orchestration benefits from the more open acoustic of the concert stage.
If Tomáš Hanus’s conducting had been superbly well committed in the earlier parts of the programme, it was simply superlative in Janáček’s music, which he understands and knows so well. (He is off to Brno later this month to conduct his own edition of The Makropoulos Case; we heard it at Welsh National Opera in September.) From the very opening intonation of the Wagnerian tenor tubas (the additional brass lined up, standing, across the back of the stage), this performance of the Sinfonietta had an unmistakable air of authenticity. The many excruciatingly difficult woodwind solos were all handled with total security and aplomb. The clarinets in their top register squealed along with the piccolos with real gusto, and the scattering of strings maintained their strenuous ostinati with assured panache. The end of the final movement, when the extra brass re-entered with their opening material over the long-extended cadences of the remainder of the orchestra, made the hair on the back of the neck rise as it really should; this is one of the great cathartic moments in all music. The audience cheered everyone to the rafters.
All that was disappointing in this superlative evening was the dismally small size of that audience; from where I was seated it looked as though the hall was considerably less than a quarter full. This may have been because of public transport difficulties (a train strike was threatened), but it was nonetheless surprising given WNO’s ability to attract substantial audiences in Cardiff. Those who missed the concert missed something really special. One hopes that they will attempt to make it for the next solo outing by this orchestra here on 29 January next, with a rare complete rendition of Smetana’s cycle of symphonic poems Ma vlast. Given the quality of this performance, that should really be something to anticipate.
Paul Corfield Godfrey
Paul Corfield Godfrey doesn’t mention that noise from a nearby fireworks display could be heard during the first three Sea Interludes – the Storm interlude drowned it out. To their great credit, the orchestral musicians carried on as though nothing were amiss.
Janacek’s Sinfonietta was exhilarating!
From where I was sitting in the stalls I heard nothing of any fireworks display outside – it would of course have been extremely evident during the quiet of the opening Sea Interlude. It may well be that the orchestral musicians could similarly hear no extraneous sounds. Generally, I have over the years found St David’s Hall to be pretty well soundproof, unless someone has left a door open.
I quite agree about the Janacek Sinfonietta, as I hope my enthusiastic review made clear.
I was sitting right at the back of St David’s Hall, just below the roof. Up there we sometimes hear extraneous noises such as seagulls and heavy rain showers.
I totally agree about Janacek’s Sinfonietta. It was thrilling to hear this wonderful music played so well.