Symphony in Three Movements
Pohjolas Daughter, Op.49
Symphony No.7 in C, Op.105
National Youth Orchestra of Great Britain
Sir Colin Davis
Reviewed by: Colin Anderson
Reviewed: 5 August, 2006
Venue: Royal Albert Hall, London
Sir Colin Davis has long demonstrated an ability to inspire young musicians. In this demanding programme, one displaying three very distinctive voices of twentieth-century music, these very talented musicians displayed both individual and corporate skills – a combination of intensive tutoring followed by Sir Colin bringing his own perceptions to bear. The Stravinsky and Sibelius pieces performed here have been long-time staples in Davis’s repertoire, with the Janáček being fairly new (or a belated return from his ‘younger’ days and given a couple of outings with the London Symphony Orchestra in recent seasons).
The opening of Stravinsky’s masterly Symphony in Three Movements impressed immediately for its incision and energy, with rhythmic complexities holding no fears for the young musicians. For all the outsize proportions of the orchestra (five harps instead of Stravinsky’s prescribed one, for example, and with other instruments in proportion), the Royal Albert Hall remained indefatigably vast and tended to nullify impact; but there was no doubting the confidence that the players exuded – whether in the point and radiance of Stravinsky’s second movement (and in the various solos therein, during which the motions of the crane-like camera for the live BBC2 broadcast were particular distracting) or the clarity and drive of the finale.
Janáček’s Taras Bulba began as it should … as if in mid-sentence, the story having started to unfold before the first notes. Colin Davis invests much emphasis into his conducting of this work, sometimes overly-spotlighting its garishness but not negating its confidentiality; yet, conversely, the most graphic passages were underplayed (reticent timpani) and the last movement seemed rather repetitive. The entrance of the organ was severely miscalculated in loudness; rather than underpinning, it contested with the brass and obliterated the strings.
Colin Davis and Sibelius are synonymous. In two of the composer’s very greatest achievements (which is saying something) there was the slightest suggestion of punches being pulled. Pohjola’s Daughter was in any case marred by severe outbreaks of thoughtless coughing and premature applause but impressed in the way that Davis conjured the music’s powerful narrative, the brooding loneliness and vivid descriptions that are seamless if contrasting in design, the whole launched by an impressive cello solo from Emily Francis.
The remarkable single-movement span of Symphony No.7 began from the same depths that Pohjola’s Daughter had descended to. Davis’s mastery of the structure was patrician, so too the intensity of nodal points. Whether other passages were concentrated enough or the seeming serenity of the music’s disclosure was due to Davis having led this music so often before is a moot point. Certainly his patience in building to powerful upsurges was magisterial and, by the close, the sense of a journey completed was palpable, the young musicians displaying complete faith in Davis’s direction of and identification with this music. Following appreciative applause, Sir Colin linked arms with leader Charlotte Reid and led her gallantly off the platform.