Sir Antonio Pappano leads an urgent, intense performance of The Dream of Gerontius in Bristol

United Kingdom Elgar: Emily D’Angelo (mezzo-soprano), David Butt Philip (tenor), William Thomas (bass), London Symphony Chorus (director: Mariana Rosas), London Symphony Orchestra / Sir Antonio Pappano (conductor). Bristol Beacon, 22.4.2026. (JQ)

Elgar – The Dream of Gerontius, Op.38 (1900)

It’s a good number of years since I made the journey down the M5 to attend a concert in Bristol’s premier auditorium and it was my first visit to the hall since its wholesale refurbishment and its rebranding as Bristol Beacon. That said, it was even longer since the London Symphony Chorus had been to Bristol: in the preface to tonight’s programme, Simon Wales, the Bristol Beacon CEO related that the choir last appeared in the city in the 1970s. By a nice piece of symmetry, we also learned that Wales, who had previously worked in the LSO’s administration team for a decade, had been a member of the LSC’s tenor section for over 30 years. Tonight, he could sit in the auditorium and hear his former colleagues in action; that must have been a strange experience.

Before considering the performance, I think it is worth saying something about the auditorium itself. Many millions of pounds have been spent on the complete refurbishment of the old Colston Hall – the building was effectively gutted and rebuilt inside. On the evidence of what I saw and heard this evening, if you value the performing arts – which I most certainly do – the money has been well spent. The front of house facilities are well laid out and allow easy access to the auditorium.  Inside, the seating arrangements are good; the audience have very good sightlines (though maybe the side balcony seats are not quite so good in this respect). Crucially, the acoustics are excellent. My seat was at the back of the hall, and I found that not only was the sound warm but I could also hear everything very clearly. One other thing is worth mentioning. Every member of the audience was given a free, good quality programme. This wasn’t the glossy production, packed with adverts, which is normally served up at concerts at a cost of several pounds. Instead, we got the full text, an excellent essay about the work by Stephen Johnson, and the necessary artist biographies. Other venues, please copy.

Sir Antonio Pappano and his forces came to Bristol immediately following performances of Gerontius at the Barbican in London (review here). The orchestra’s label, LSO Live has recorded the London performances for future commercial release and I look forward very much to hearing that. What we heard tonight, therefore, was a performance which was well ‘run in’. This concert has been inked in my diary in red for months; I love Elgar’s masterpiece and I greatly admire Pappano as a conductor; to date, all the examples of his work with the LSO that I have heard indicate that their relationship is already very fruitful. My expectations, therefore, were very high. In many respects they were met, though I came away from the performance with a couple of reservations, one of them quite significant.

Pappano conducted a spacious and, at times, dramatic account of the Prelude to Part I. I was delighted to see that he had split the violins left and right. This had two benefits: we could hear the distinction between the two violin parts very clearly; and the violas (to the conductor’s left) and cellos (to his right) provided the rich heart of the string choir. Within a few bars the sonorous sound produced by the violas and cellos served notice that we were to hear an orchestra at the top of its collective game. So it proved; the LSO’s contribution to the performance was outstanding from first note to last. The Prelude was marvellous and it was obvious that Pappano intended us to hear an intense and dramatic reading of Elgar’s masterpiece; any thoughts of Victorian oratorio cobwebs were immediately banished. One small but telling detail caught my ear. A few minutes into the Prelude, there are two places where Elgar dramatically cuts off the music when the brass are in full cry. This occurs 8 bars after cue 9 and a further 8 bars after that. In my experience, two conductors – Benjamin Britten and Sir Colin Davis – have departed from the score at these points, filling what would otherwise be silences with rolls on the bass drum. Pappano joined those insightful interpreters of Gerontius in adding the drum roll. It’s a gesture that’s not authorised in the score but I rather like it; it maintains the tension in a different way but no less than Elgar’s silences do.

Throughout the evening, I thought Pappano’s conducting was fresh, insightful and often urgent; occasionally, as we shall see, I felt he overdid the urgency a bit. However, his approach to the score underlined how radical the work was when it was composed in 1900. Here was a composer, reared (as a performer as well as a composer) in the Victorian oratorio tradition who wrote a work of such blazing originality as to take that tradition in a radically new direction. I run the risk of using a tired cliché if I say that Pappano’s approach was operatic but I think the description is justified. His conducting was animated, not least in galvanising the splendid London Symphony Chorus, and when the soloists were singing his long experience in the pit was very evident; he was ‘with’ his singers at all times. I have stressed the dramatic side of his conducting but I mustn’t overlook the poetry. The short Prelude to Part II was played with great sensitivity by the LSO strings; they gently but firmly established that, following the death of Gerontius at the end of Part I, we had moved to another place. Pappano’s pacing of the extended dialogue between the Soul of Gerontius and the Angel was constantly flowing, helping that encounter to be a genuine conversation. I also liked the very natural flow with which he invested the Angel’s Farewell. I mentioned that there were a couple of instances when I felt Pappano was too urgent. Perhaps the most obvious example was the solo for the Angel of the Agony in Part II. I felt that this was taken too swiftly; the music was robbed of its imposing quality. I should also credit Pappano with one other feature of the performance, which I am sure was his idea. If an interval is taken between Parts I and II, this dissipates all the atmosphere. Pappano allowed a pause of no more than a couple of minutes between the two Parts during which time Emily D’Angelo came on stage. I was fearful that the audience might greet her with applause but to their great credit the Bristol audience were completely respectful of the decision to avoid an interval and the pause between the two Parts passed with a minimum of noise.

On their long-overdue return to Bristol, the London Symphony Chorus made a very strong impression. Clearly, they had been prepared assiduously for this assignment by their Chorus Director, Mariana Rosas and throughout the evening the LSC’s singing was impeccable in matters of tuning, balance and clarity of diction. It was a detailed performance too, of which one small example will suffice: the way, during ‘Praise to the Holiest’, that the final consonant in the word ‘smote’ was emphasised. That extended chorus is one of the choir’s set pieces in Gerontius. Before we heard it, on the lengthy ‘approach road’, the ladies of the LSC gave a fresh, clear account of the Angelicals’ music. Pappano prepared in a thrilling fashion for the choir’s entry at ‘Praise to the Holiest’ and when he unleashed his chorus, their first phrase hit us like a wall of sound. It’s easy for the succeeding passage to sag, but Pappano’s dynamic direction and the LSC’s animated, highly responsive singing ensured that this didn’t happen. In the subsequent double-chorus episode, Pappano drove the music forward – in accordance with Elgar’s markings – excitingly, but not excessively; the LSC’s response was marvellously energised. Earlier, they had been suitably unpleasant Demons and in Part I, I admired their urgent singing at ‘Rescue him’. The crucial semi chorus was drawn from the ranks of the choir. The singers were positioned on the ‘wings’ of the LSC, the ladies to the left and the gentlemen to the right; thus was good definition achieved. This small group of singers made a fine contribution.

I don’t recall that I have previously encountered the Canadian mezzo-soprano, Emily D’Angelo. When she came onto the platform, I was mildly surprised to see that she carried no score; she sang from memory. It was definitely a positive thing that she had so evidently taken the music to her heart. However, I am afraid I found her physical gestures a mild distraction. More seriously, her voice, as I heard it, seemed to have an edge to it; I wanted to hear more roundness of tone. I am afraid that for much of the time I didn’t hear much evidence of vocal or emotional warmth in her singing – though, in fairness, I must record that she did bring a welcome degree of tenderness to the Farewell. It seemed that ‘You cannot now cherish a wish’ lacked the reassuring warmth that both words and music surely invite. On the other hand, she spun a good narrative line at ‘There was a mortal’ and invested ‘Praise to His name’ with exalted intensity. In summary, too often I didn’t feel that D’Angelo was the reassuring companion that the Soul of Gerontius needed; therefore, she wasn’t my ideal Angel. Of course, this was my reaction to a single hearing; maybe I will feel differently when I have the chance for repeated listening to the forthcoming recording. To end on a positive, I must commend D’Angelo’s diction; not only was it very clear but in addition she invested the words with meaning.

The bass soloist was William Thomas. In Part I, he offered a noble account of the Priest’s solo.  I thought he was rather less suited to the role of the Angel of the Agony – I may be wrong but it seemed to me that he took one phrase down the octave. He seemed to me to lack the imposing vocal heft which this role ideally needs; consequently, his singing didn’t exhibit sufficient presence. Mind you, I don’t think he was helped by Pappano’s urgent pacing of this episode – I can’t readily recall hearing it taken as swiftly. As a result, Thomas wasn’t encouraged to sing the long vocal phrases as expansively as I would have liked to hear them

As Gerontius we heard David Butt Philip. I have heard him a couple of times in this role – once in a performance in which I had the good fortune to sing. Most recently, I experienced him in  the live recording conducted by Martyn Brabbins (review here). I found a great deal to admire in his contribution to that recording but, truth to tell, I was mildly disappointed; I felt he could have given even more. There was no such disappointment here; I wonder if he felt liberated by Pappano’s dramatic approach to the score? At first, he conveyed well the frailty and fear of Gerontius on his deathbed; then he gathered himself for a highly committed, ringing account of ‘Sanctus fortis’. In this aria – for that is what it is – he projected his voice with complete success over an LSO which was often (rightly) in full cry, urged on by Pappano’s dramatic, incisive conducting. Butt Philip’s account of the aria culminated in an anguished cry at ‘O, Jesu, help’ followed by a searing top B-flat (‘In Thine own agony’). In Part II, I was very impressed with the way Butt Philip, now (correctly) in lighter voice, conveyed the sense of wonder and apprehension which Gerontius feels now that he has passed to another place. Possibly the highlight of the entire performance came immediately after the Angel of the Agony’s solo. The Soul of Gerontius sings ‘I go before my judge’. Here, Butt Philip and Pappano created a sense of awe the like of which I don’t remember previously experiencing, either live or on disc; it was, as it should be, a heart-stopping moment. Gerontius then gets a momentary glimpse of God. Pappano built towards this moment marvellously, racking up the tension through scrupulous attention to Elgar’s markings, so that the musical flash of blinding light was truly overwhelming. Butt Philip’s account of ‘Take me away’ was memorable; his first cry was full of ecstasy and emotion and thereafter his delivery of the solo was compelling. Thus, he crowned an outstanding performance of the title role.

In his programme note Stephen Johnson described The Dream of Gerontius as ‘a national monument’, going on to say that this status ‘is both a blessing and a curse’; the curse element being that we can take the work for granted.  I know exactly what he means. As I have indicated, I had one or two reservations about the performance. However, the urgency, commitment and intensity, as inspired by Sir Antonio Pappano, could not be denied; in no way was the work taken for granted by these performers.  I look forward to the forthcoming commercial recording with anticipation.

John Quinn

Featured Image: London Symphony Orchestra at Bristol Beacon © Soul Media/Giulia Spadafora