The Bardi Symphony Orchestra

8th May 2010

There is a contemporary trend in concert giving that seems to dislike an “opener”. Quite often, nowadays concerts begin with a concerto and then go on to a gargantuan “showpiece” symphony, leaving little time for something shorter at the beginning of the programme. This is a pity, as not only does a short (ish) opening work provide an opportunity to warm up before the heavyweight items, it also allows a chance to play pieces that otherwise don’t really fit into the “modern” concert programme. Things were different in earlier generations, and in my own memories of concert going, which now stretch back forty-three years, no De Montfort Hall concert began without an overture or tone poem.

Fashions change, but it seems a shame that so many shorter works no longer get an airing. Consequently, it was all the more delightful that the Bardi chose to open the concert with Bax’s Tintagel, a work I’ve known since schooldays, thanks to a fine 1967 Barbirolli recording, but have only ever heard once in the concert hall - and that wasn’t in Leicester. In fact it is possible that this could have been the first time it has been performed in the DMH.

If that is so, then it was given a fine premiere. The performance was idiomatic and exhilarating. Conductor and players – many (or possibly most) of whom were, no doubt, performing it for the first time were committed and assured. Claus Efland displayed a sure instinct for the drama of the piece and, as always, maintained the all-important inner tension – even during the quieter moments. This sense of movement is vital to a good performance.

The opening was magical. This is probably the most imaginative and atmospheric passage in the whole of Bax’s orchestral output and Efland did it full justice. He balanced the sound so expertly that every strand was audible and the effect of the sea’s surge, with pulsating strings, woodwind arabesques and sonorous brass was truly memorable.

The whole performance had a sense of direction. The agitated central section with its difficult rhythms and textures was urgent and confident. The evidence of careful rehearsal and this conductors outstanding ability to instil confidence paid immense dividends and the return of the glorious string tune towards the end was a spine-tingling moment in which the reality lived up to the expectation.

During the interval a friend whose musical judgement I value remarked that he thought Claus Efland was a match for any conductor we see in Leicester – and that is saying something in view of the roster of big names we get with the Philharmonia. It is certainly true to say that he never gives a dull performance and has the ability to engage and inspire the orchestra to such an extent that the results are often breathtaking, as was the case in Shostakovich’s Fifth Symphony – more on that anon…

I have heard Thomas Bowes play Bruch’s G minor concerto on a previous occasion and was struck by his deep musicianship and lack of histrionics as I was here. He seems to give the piece, which, with its undoubted charm, can easily become a “rattle it off” concerto, added stature. The difference here was the quality of the accompaniment, which was a match for every nuance and subtlety of the soloist. The players’ familiarity with the work gave the strings an even richer tone than in the Bax.

The incisive, forthright account of the Allegro led into an exquisite reading of the Adagio where the sensitivity of the playing and the meticulous shading of dynamics showed what can be achieved where familiarity can almost blind us to the deeper qualities of such a favourite work. The finale was paced and phrased to make maximum effect without any feeling of virtuosity for its own sake.

This performance of Shostakovich’s Fifth Symphony was the second in the DMH this season and it may seem strange for a critic with several “helpers” to choose to hear it again – especially as I’m no great fan of the piece. But comparison is often very revealing and it’s true to say that these two accounts of this ambiguous and intense work could not have been more different. The first made little impact and seemed relatively uncommitted with a conductor who did not engage his players, who in turn, seemed to be hanging on by the skin of their teeth; which is just what you DON’T want in a work like this.

Claus Efland had clearly rehearsed the orchestra to the point where he was able to give a real interpretation with players who are confident enough to give him what he asks for, which, in this case was searing intensity and an urgency that drove the work through from first bar to last, leaving the listener almost as exhausted and emotionally wrought as no doubt the performers were. Some may take issue with tempi, but this work needs to be propelled, even in the slow movement, if it to make maximum impact. Shostakovich is a composer of great expressive strength who speaks his own musical language with passionate conviction and his interpreters need to share that conviction if the full force of his imagination is to come across.

Efland produced the most compelling reading. He captured the opening movement’s sense of conflict, building climaxes with clarity and intensity but keeping the pulse throughout the tempo changes. Characterisation was effective, not least in the grotesque march-like section that crowns the development’s climax. The “winding down” to the final bars was equally imaginative in creating a feeling of authentic Russian melancholy.

The scherzo – a few moments of relatively light relief, was a tour-de-force of superb playing – quite amazing for a non-professional orchestra. Rhythmic bite, superb ensemble and attack were coupled with an appropriate sense of the burlesque.

Once again in the Largo, Efland showed himself to be a master of tension, creating drawing wonderfully sustained pianissimo playing from the strings. The building up of intensity before the searing climax was riveting.

The finale swept all before it – urgent and dynamic, yet sensitive in the reflective “recollections”, of earlier movements before an account of the “triumphant” D major closing bars that had breathtaking ferocity.