Our thanks to Jonathan Dodd for his latest review of the Isle of Wight Symphony Orchestra. Ed
I’m consistently amazed at how lucky we are on the Wight to have an orchestra at all, let alone one of such a high standard. The thing about music nowadays is its wonderful availability. I can buy or download anything at all I can think of from the Internet, and if I hear something I don’t know I can Shazam it from my phone, which not only tells me what it is, it also offers to sell it to me. Then I can listen to it while driving or running or walking along the seashore. It’s wonderful.
Being there in person when it’s being played
Music is everywhere, including Classical music. But here’s the thing. No matter how many times you hear something, no matter what medium you hear it or watch it through, or how familiar it becomes, nothing will ever come close to being there in person when it’s being played.
Last Saturday a whole auditorium of us were able to prove that, while we listened and watched. I want to thank everyone who takes part in the IWSO, for being there, for working so hard, for constantly striving towards perfection, and for letting me watch and listen.
An early bridge between musical genres
The first piece they played was called the Bamboula. It opened up a world unfamiliar to me, of a mixed-race composer living and studying in England in the early 20th century called Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, having no connection with the famous poet. He was much admired in America, and collected Afro-American folk music to incorporate into his work, which was entirely European in background. In this way he formed an early bridge between musical genres and ethnic backgrounds. The orchestra romped through the Bamboula in a lively and energetic manner, and it was very satisfying.
Next was an early work by Eric Coates, who seems to have a reputational deficit, being known as a composer of ‘Light’ Classical music. I personally love the Desert Island Discs theme tune, and the Dambusters March, but I don’t know him otherwise. He wrote his Ballad for Strings when he was still a teenager, I believe, and it is his Op. 2. Being musically illiterate I noticed that it was all stringed instruments, and the tunes flowed very harmoniously from side to side like wind over a wheat field. It was lovely.
Strained pathos and heartache
The Barber Violin Concerto is the first piece of music I really know that has been played for me by the IWSO. I first discovered Barber while watching the film Platoon. It took a while to identify the music that conveys such beautiful strained pathos and heartache, used brilliantly in that film. I liked it so much that I bought the violin concerto on spec too, and I loved it immediately.
So I was really looking forward to this performance, and I wasn’t in the least disappointed. The beautiful theme and lovely use of the instrumental sounds to weave in and out of the violin transfixed me. Shana Douglas, the soloist, played with exceptional control and delicacy, and every face in the orchestra was absolutely there, supporting her and living in the moment. It was absolutely wonderful to hear one of my favourite pieces played so well.
Swirling with dark emotions and stormy thoughts
After the interval, and a chance to clamber back to reality, the whole orchestra embarked on Dvorak’s 7th Symphony. This wasn’t known to me at all. It was written before he went to America and wrote his well-known 9th Symphony, ‘From the New World’, and it was a full-fledged European Symphony, swirling with dark emotions and stormy thoughts.
The orchestra attacked it with zest, and it was a fitting finale to a brilliant evening.
As always, the conductor, Jonathan Butcher, provided the audience with witty and informative notes and tales about the pieces before conducting with his usual style and physical presence.
Last concert of the season
The next concert will contain a Russian Overture, a Norwegian Parisian Carnival, an English Clarinet Concerto, and Vaughan Williams Symphony No. 2 (A London Symphony).
It’s on 5th July (tickets available by calling 527020.
I can’t wait.
Images: © With kind permission of Allan Marsh
