This Wigmore Hall lunchtime concert was a bit unusual.
Camerata RCO is the scaled-down chamber orchestra bit of the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra. They are making a bit of a reputation for themselves playing scaled-down versions of enormous symphonies, such as this sixth one by Anton Bruckner.
But now, having heard them and seen them some more, I realise that The Gesualdo Six are now beyond boy band. They are to 15th/16th century Chansons de Regretz what Taylor Swift is to the 21st century heartbreak song.
Further, the Ges-Ges Boys, much like Tay-Tay, are mastering the art of social media management. When Owain Park announced from the stage that “you can find us on TikTok”, I wondered:
whether he was joking,
how many members of the Wigmore hall audience understood what he meant by TikTok,
was I the only person in the Hall (other than the Ges-Ges Crew) who had a TikTok account.
I can’t be sure about the answer to the second and third question, but I can confirm that Owain Park wasn’t joking.
They are also very good at merchandising. On my 2018 visit Owain tempted me to buy a pre-release version of their first album – English Motets (which includes the track embedded above from TikTok, as it happens). This time he persuaded me to be among the first to buy Queen Of Hearts, the latest album.
To be honest, I don’t really need much persuading and I can confirm that the Gesualdo Six recordings are excellent.
The Gesualdo team themselves staffed the merchandise and payment gadgets during the interval, chatting kindly (and at some cases at length) with the patrons who queued up to buy the recordings. I believe they did that all again at the end of the gig.
I wondered to myself whether Taylor Swift was doing this at her Wembley Stadium concerts – I have heard that she engages with her audience like no other. Possibly Tay-Tay is still there at Wembley, selling, signing and chatting.
Almost all the stuff we heard was from this new Queen of Hearts album. Did I mention that it is available from The Gesualdo Six website – click here. We are loving listening to the albums. I also bought Josquin’s Legacy to add to my collection.
Before the interval we heard:
Antoine Brumel (c.1450-1512) Sub tuum praesidium (pub. 1520)
Josquin des Prez (c.1450-1521) O virgo prudentissima
Loyset Compère (c.1445-1518) Plaine d’ennuy/Anima mea
Antoine Brumel Sicut Lilium
Jean Mouton (c.1459-1522) Ave Maria … virgo serena (pub. c.1520)
Johannes Prioris (fl. c.1485-1512) Dulcis amica Dei (pub. 1508)
Owain Park (b.1993) Prière pour Marie (2023)
Jean Lhéritier (c.1480-1551) Sub tuum presidium a6
After the interval:
Josquin des Prez Petite camusette (pub. 1545)
Antoine de Févin (c.1470-1511) Fors seulement (pub. c.1515)
Jean Mouton De tous regretz
Anon Se je souspire/Ecce iterum attributed to Margaret of
Austria
Costanzo Festa (c.1485-1545) Quis dabit oculis (1514)
Ninfea Cruttwell-Reade (b.1989) Plaisir n’ai plus Commissioned by The Gesualdo Six (2023)
Johannes Prioris Consommo la vita mia
Nicolas Gombert (c.1495-1560) Tous les regretz (pub. 1544)
Below is a video of them singing Josquin’s O Virgo Prudentissima – one of the pieces we heard.
This group is the real deal. Janie and I floated home after the concert.
“Don’t mess with my partitas, mate!”, Heinrich Biber
Hmmm, we were neither of us sure about this one. We really enjoyed bits of it, while spending some of our listening time hoping for certain pieces to end.
Queenslander Brett Dean comes across as a genuinely nice bloke who surrounds himself with musicians who like to play with him. His compositions, though, borrow from well-known composers and tunes, deconstructing and reconstructing them in ways that could only please ears wired differently from ours.
Brett claimed that the music in his concert spanned the 16th to the 21st century, only omitting the 19th century. I would dispute that claim. His “some birthday” piece of 1992 is a sort-of variations on the tune we know as “Happy Birthday To You”, which was first published in 1893 as “Good Morning To All” in “Song Stories for the Kindergarten” by Patty and Mildred J. Hill. While the Hill’s copyright is famously disputed, that tune is surely 19th century.
Here’s the oldest known version – let’s not even think about what Brett’s version looks like on the page
Anyway…
…here’s a nice recording of the first movement of Biber’s 7th parthia, which was the first piece we heard:
Janie and I both found George Benjamin‘s piece too weird for us. George kindly turned up to take the applause afterwards – turns out he’s a Londoner. Here’s a recording of it enabling you to judge for yourselves:
Byrd’s Fantasia pieces are lovely little vignettes. That segment was too short (or there were too few of them) for my taste. Here’s a nice example of one played by a consort of viols (almost certainly what Byrd had in mind) rather than violas and cello – which we heard and still sounded lovely:
The highlight of the evening, for us, was to see the young gifted harpsichordist/pianist Xiaowen Shang play with such joy and expression. For us she played Byrd’s Earl of Salisbury pavan and galliard, plus The Bells – both favourites of mine – on the harpsichord. Below, a video of her playing a lovely piece of Bach on the piano:
The Earl of Salisbury pavan is such a favourite of mine. Xiaowen played it beautifully, if a little twiddley for my taste. Below is Janie’s hand-held recording of Reuben Ard playing it on the electric virginals at Hampton Court Palace last year, for my Gresham Society event there:
Let’s not talk too much about the things Brett Dean did to Byrd’s beautiful pavan and his take on Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No 6. Imagine PDQ Bach in a really bad mood, unable to make jokes.
“There’s nothing funny about feet either” (Janie, attrib. PDQ Bach)
It seemed to take an age to segue from Brett’s “treatment” to the concerto itself, which was a rather glorious and suitable choice of closing number for a concert that focussed to a large extent on the idea of two violas. By the time the concerto finally arrived, we thought we’d more than earned some ear candy.
Here’s a lovely rendering of the Bach by some sensible Dutch people who don’t mess with it:
“Is that it?”, asked Janie as the applause rang out for the Brandenburg.
I’m not entirely sure what motivated me to book Joe Lovano, as I was aware that he had some connections with that school but also with many other schools of jazz. I played a few snippets on YouTube and reckoned that Janie’s love of the saxophone would conquer all.
The first two or three minutes did not go well. In particular, Marilyn Crispell’s first few bars on the piano sounded really free, really free, really-really-really free, to me.
Were I a praying person, I would have been praying for the gig to warm up.
It did warm up.
I was more impressed by Carmen Castaldi on the drums than Janie was. He was assisted at times by Joe Lovano himself, who not only played the saxophone but also the gongs and a shaky-stick thing which defies description other than the term “shaky stick thing”. It might have been a cacho seedpod stick. I think that both of them also used some loose seedpods a few times. It all felt a bit experimental and “do what you like” at that end of the percussion section.
But heck, this trio is old enough and experienced enough to do what they like. I have said many times that Wigmore Hall is one of the few places left where stewards refer to us, without irony, as young man and young woman. But these days we rarely feel, as we did that evening, that we are youngsters next to all of the performers. No matter.
Here’s a little documentary released by ECM in 2019 when this trio started working together:
Here’s a recording of a whole live gig from 2022 in Luxembourg, some of which will sound much like the music we heard:
At the end of the evening we ran into John Thirlwell, one of my real tennis pals from Lord’s. Come to think of it, Lord’s is the only other place left, apart from Wigmore Hall, where we are still addressed by stewards as young man and young woman without irony.
In the first half, Michele Rabbia, Gianluca Petrella and Eivind Aarset played their unusual style of electronically-enhanced ambient music, mostly pieces from the album Lost River.
Here’s an example piece – Nimbus
One lady in our row, clearly not keen on electronically enhanced jazz, decided not to stick around for the second half. That’s a shame, because it was very different and not electronically enhanced at all.
Avishai Cohen and Yonathan Avishai have been friends since they were kids and the camaraderie really showed. Their set mostly came form the album “Playing The Room”.
Here’s a sample from that:
Here is a live video of them playing a lullaby, which i think they used as their encore:
Not a concert to set your pulse racing, but two very interesting acts and a good way to start concert-going in 2024.
But the thing that made this concert so very special was the extraordinary piece we heard. Emilio de’ Cavalieri’s Rappresentatione di Anima, et di Corpo.
Vox Luminis are a wonderful outfit who don’t tend to disappoint. This evening was no exception. They perform with smiles on their faces and clearly celebrate each other’s and their joint success.
Here is a trailer of Vox Luminis performing this very piece in 2021 in Utrecht. Different soloists, but you can’t have everything:
Janie and I are not easily wowed these days – we’ve seen a lot of excellent concerts in our time, but this one blew our metaphorical socks off. Delicious music, sounding a little different from anything we’ve heard before from that period. Sweeter than Monteverdi oratorios, but loads going on in the soundscape.
Strozzi and Caccini provided the songs – I suppose I should call them madrigals from that era. They were all operatic in style, which suits Roberta Invernizzi’s theatrical delivery and powerful soprano voice.
Invernizzi was ably supported by period instrumentalists, all extremely capable on their instruments. Two theorboes and a harp seems almost an embarrassment of plucked-string-riches, but the sound was lovely so we wallowed in the excess.
In truth, to our taste, the trio sonatas and passacaille of Leonarda and Jacquet De La Guerre respectively were more to our taste than the madrigals, but we enjoyed the whole concert.
Here is an example of a Leonarda sonata – coincidentally from an album primarily containing Roberta Invernizzi but not on this instrumental piece:
Below, from a separate recording, is Roberta Invernizzi singing Strozzi’s Sino Alla Morte, one of the madrigals we heard:
You find out who your friends are when you go to this sort of concert…
…or more realistically, The Wigmore Hall management finds out who its friends are.
Frankly, I booked this concert because I fancied hearing the Liszt transcription of Beethoven Seven, which, in the end, Igor Levit decided not to perform. Never mind. This is the concert programme he chose instead.
Anyway, the “Friends Party” aspect was secondary in my mind.
Janie and I didn’t know that the Friends of Wigmore Hall had been going for 30 years. We are mere arrivistes at the place, starting our adventures there a mere 25 years ago, in 1998, with this concert:
..for which we befriended the place and then attended pretty regularly (several times a year, pandemic aside) ever since.
After saying some fine words about how important the Friends of Wigmore Hall is to the hall and how important the hall is to his artistic life, Igor Levit played Schumann and Brahms instead of the Liszt.
After the concert, maintaining the Brahms and Liszt theme (did you see what I did there?) a drinks reception with Champagne for those who like alcoholic fizz and sparking elderflower presse for those who, like me, prefer their fizz non-alcoholic during the day.
On departure, Janie and I decided to thank John Gilhooly, who has been running the place extremely well for years, for the party.
Janie and I confessed to not having been supporters for all 30 years. John told us that we didn’t look like those who had been supporting for 30 years. Perhaps he underestimated our ages and wouldn’t have guessed that we have supported for 25 of the 30.
We then chatted briefly about John’s campaign to try to introduce a younger audience to the Hall, which Janie and I applaud. John then made a slightly off-colour remark about the reception being a bit of a legacies marketing campaign event…”but not directed at you two, obviously”, he said.
So I suppose we’d better remove The Wigmore Hall from our bequests list, then. 😉
The theme of this rather wonderful BBC Lunchtime Concert at Wigmore Hall was imitations. All of the pieces had themes within them in which the music imitates some sort of natural sound.
Janie and I thought this was an excellent and very interesting concert. We very nearly missed it, as I, in an extremely rare omission, forgot to write this Wigmore Hall date in our diaries when I booked this back in February. It was only because there was a small change to the programme that I was alerted to my omission and fortunately we were both able still to make the date.
The headline picture is sort-of an imitation too – that painting by Jan Voorhout was once thought to be Dieterich Buxtehude, the composer of the first piece we heard, but is now believed simply to be a domestic music scene of that baroque period.
If you just fancy one little listen to some Baroque imitation, then the third movement of this sonata by Johann Paul von Westhoff, which we heard, should thrill your ears.
Continuing the theme of imitation, I suppose I spent the day “imitating” a young man. I have said in recent years that there are now only three places left where people sometimes call me “young man” without irony: Wigmore Hall, Lord’s and Gresham Society. Today I enjoyed all three.
After Wigmore Hall, I went on to lord’s for a cracking game of real tennis doubles.
2016 Picture by Toni Friend – I was so much younger then
Then on to the National Liberal Club for the Gresham Society AGM and dinner. For reasons known only to him (and in a style only Tim could muster), Professor Connell invited me to sit at the top table:
Would you care to join us on the top table tomorrow night?
Everyone else has refused and it will look a bit odd if there is no-one on it.
It would have been hard to refuse such a courteous request.
Tim Connell promised to keep the formal AGM bit to seven minutes but those around me suggested that he strayed into the 10-15 minutes zone, as usual.
Worse yet, despite spending the day in all three places where I am still occasionally addressed as “young man”, no-one had done so that day and no-one did so that evening.
Still, I chatted with lots of interesting people and enjoyed a good dinner.
Sir Thomas Gresham: 1519-1579 – I’m even older than him now
