Jonathan Dodd shares his review of the latest Isle of Wight Symphony Orchestra (IWSO) concert. Images with kind permission of Allan Marsh. Ed
Last Saturday the Isle of Wight Symphony Orchestra presented a concert of French music. A sold-out audience was treated to a feast of music as succulent and tasty as fine French food, with a dizzying variety of tastes and textures and sounds, and everyone left the Medina Theatre feeling as if they had attended something extraordinary.
I was looking forward to it primarily because of Viv Mclean, a regular soloist with the IWSO, and admired and beloved of everyone who has seen him.
I didn’t know any of the pieces to be performed, but I felt I was going to be entertained royally and introduced to new composers. I didn’t expect the orchestra to pull out such a magnificent performance.
With a hint of possible menace
They started with some dance music – the Suite from Les Biches, by Francis Poulenc. I never knew what that meant, but Google informs me that it’s French for does or hinds, and ‘darlings’, although I understand it’s used in other ways, sometimes less savoury. In 1924 Poulenc was asked by Diaghilev to write a ballet, and chose a theme of a slightly decadent house party, with a hint of possible menace.
Poulenc reworked the original nine movements into a suite of five, and this was played with great vividness and clarity by the orchestra. The music defied categorisation, at least to my untutored ears, because of the sheer variety of styles and tempos and mixtures of sound that swirled hypnotically in front of my eyes. I was mesmerised by both the music and the playing. It was a pleasure to be introduced to such a magnificent piece of music, and I know it’s going to become a favourite.
A palpable air of expectation
After Poulenc, the piano was wheeled on-stage and the orchestra rearranged itself, and a palpable air of expectation settled on the entire auditorium. As always, from the moment of his entrance, our eyes never left Viv Mclean.
Maurice Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G, written in 1932, was also new to me, and it was magnificent. The first movement is explosive and percussive and thunderous, apparently disjointed and fragmented, at least to my ears, with the piano dominating, using the full keyboard, from one end to the other, simultaneously, it seemed. I was unable to follow his fingers and hands, because of the furious pace. The orchestra kept pace admirably, supporting and enhancing the piano, and many of the musicians had complex solo parts to play as well. Everyone’s performance was faultless.
The second movement was a complete contrast, quiet and lyrical and quite beautiful. The piano was on its own to start with, and the orchestra gradually joined in, adding background to the delightful theme. There were echoes of Gershwin and American music, and controlled dissonance that could have sounded wrong to traditional ears, but worked delightfully, as each slightly ‘wrong’ note added to those previous ones until it made beautiful sense. It was lovely.
The third movement was similar to the first, with brilliant flourishes from so many of the accompanying musicians, and above it all the soaring piano. I can’t praise this performance enough. Viv Mclean played magnificently, without a score, and I’ll never know how he managed to be so fast and so accurate, as well as investing so much feeling and beauty into it. The orchestra was more than up to the challenge, and the applause at the end was rapturous and thunderous.
Conjuring up dreams and visions
After the interval we were treated to César Franck’s Symphony in D, written in 1888. This was also new to me. It’s one of those symphonies that conjure up dreams and visions, and can be listened to with great pleasure. It contained memorable melodies that reminded me of other tunes and composers and symphonies, and themes that weave in and out of each other and return in slightly different form. The three movements merged in my mind as a dreamlike memory that combines them all. The orchestra played this symphony with just the right level of imagination and skill, and I just sat back and really enjoyed it.
The final piece of music was the Bacchanale, from Samson and Delilah, by Camille Saint-Saëns. Written in 1877, Samson and Delilah was a full opera on a grand scale, and this Bacchanale occurred in the middle of the last act, when the Philistines were dancing ecstatically in honour of their victory over Samson, not realising that their world was about to fall on their heads. It’s very oriental in its feel, completely unrestrained, and illustrates the wild emotions and movements perfectly. The whole orchestra gave themselves up to the wild rhythms and swirling tunes as the pace and volume increased, right up to the tumultuous ending. After a moment of complete silence, there was wild applause.
Dedicated skill and enthusiasm, and well-chosen music
I had a wild time, and I fancy all the musicians enjoyed their evening too, judging by the beaming smiles on their faces afterwards. I think I appreciated more than at any previous concert just how extraordinary it is to get such a large crowd of people to come together and produce such magic.
Of course, their dedicated skill and enthusiasm is at its heart, as well as well-chosen music. For me it felt like an almost-perfect concert. I’m looking forward to the next one.
Book now for next concert
Saturday 20th May. Write that down. Get some tickets, it’s going to be great. It starts with a piece called Danzon 2, by Arturo Marquez a celebration of Mexican dance.
Then there’s a particular treat for me, Vivaldi’s Recorder Concerto in C, a favourite, that’s so lively and happy that it makes me want to get up and dance. I tried to play it myself sometimes, and I couldn’t keep up, of course, but it makes me amazingly happy to hear it.
This will be matched with David Bedford’s recorder concerto, both played by local recorder star Miriam Nerval. All that is followed by Shostakovich’s epic 10th Symphony.
It’s going to be awesome. See you there. I can’t wait.
Images: © With kind permission of Allan Marsh
