REVIEW OF THE ARTS
John Bricicut on the new season of Proms
Nowadays even the Palace of Westminster and the Tower of London seem less durable than the BBC Promenade Concerts whose eightieth season began last Friday under the new aegis of Robert Ponsonby. The queues stretching into Queen's Gate are continuing evidence of their popularity; the deplorable Albert Hall bar-scrums in the interval will be as chaotic as ever, the promenaders will be as undisciminatingly effusive as ever, but the Prom prospectus promises some good things over the next two months.
The programme for the opening night did not, alas, augur well; in recent years something rather special (such as Mahler's Eighth Symphony or Brahms's Requiem) has been reserved for this spot, but an unexceptional bill of Haydn's last mass, 'Harmoniemesse', and Schubert's Ninth Symphony resulted in some empty seats this time; the main focus of the occasion was upon the rostrum partnership of Boulez and Boult, as, respectively, the current and original conductors of the BBC Symphony Orchestra — an overworn theme from the BBC's recent jubilee. When Sir Adrian Boult steps on to the platform to the inevitable riot of applause, one is always wary of being caught in a wave of gerotophilia, to which Londoners seem particularly prone. Klemperer was a recent object of this, and, for all his many moments of undoubted genius, he did doze off during per formances (I have Beethoven's 'Eroica' in mind) and the New Philharmonia became adept at following the leader rather thee the conductor; I fear that Klemperer was often cheered as much for his immense physical courage in the face of prolonged disability as for his music. But, at eighty-five, Boult's Schubert was as lovely as usual; he was indubitably master of the orchestra throughout, continuously attentive to every nuance of balance and tone. The blemishes in the score (Schubert's interminable endings, his over-reliance on instant key changes) were almost enjoyable when the brass were playing so well, and indeed the whole orchestra: its ensemble under both conductors was excellent. It is astonishing how much it has benefited from its Boulezian spell; previously its performances were tired and even slapdash on occasion, but now, on its astringent musical diet, clarity, precision and sparkle are cardinal virtues.
Sir William Glock's programme experiments are largely continued by his successor: other venues are used when the Albert Hall acoustic is not suitable, St Augustine's at Kilburn being the novelty this year, and the cool reception in 1973 for concerts shared between small chamber groups, or even solo recitalists, and a symphony orchestra has not discouraged repetition of the idea, notably on September 10 when Liszt piano solos adjoin Dvorak's Ninth Symphony. There are only two thirds as many symphonies as in 1973 — none by Vaughan Williams (though many are in the orchestral repertory at present) and only one by Haydn — but there is more vocal and choral music. Composers absent from this year's schedule include Hindemith„ Mendelssohn, Schumann, Shostakovich and Weber — but then not everyone can be fitted in, although it is time we had some Fella again.
We may have moved away from the old overture-concerto-symphony pattern, but there are. still too many hotch-potch programmes; for example, August 20 presents a Rossini overture, Beethoven's Eighth Symphony, Hoddinott's Third Piano Concerto and the 'Enigma' V ariati.Q.10,,,,,EtiMavaiaos centred round a common concept are rare: on August 24 there are some twentieth-centutsr ;treatments of different sorts of dance, while a week earlier Haitink directs the LPO in Beethoven's Pastoral and Britten's Spring Symphony. Certain a common link here, but why not put the Britten with 'The Rite of Spring'?
One of the few grand occasions this year ('Das Lied von der Erde', 'The Dream of Gerontius', concert performances of Mozart's Figaro and Titus and Janacek's Katya), Schoenberg's 'Gurrelieder' on July 21 was arguably the most important, since the enormous forces required have led to its neglect. Boulez's 1973 rendering of it was given before an almost empty house but he evidently determined to try again, and word that this sumptuous post-Wagnerian extravaganza has little enough to do with the 'tone-row' had spread around sufficiently to half-fill the hall. It would have been most appropriate First Night material in this, Schoenberg's centenary year. Here were the biggest orchestral sounds one is likely ever to experience, but Boulez never allowed the music to lose its pace or sense of direction, for all its self-indulgence. Of the soloists, Jess Thomas was an outstanding Waldemar, and Felicity Palmer's poignant blend of grief and fatalism in the Wood-Dove's message was well-judged. The vocal line was sometimes inaudible, and Boulez had admitted at his informative and witty pre-Prom talk (the first of an innovatory series) that the composer's massive doubling of instruments was in part a miscalculation. This is a valid case for discreet amplification.
The first of many nights of English music was on July 20 with the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic under Sir Charles Groves. But Thomas Igloi's version of the Elgar Cello Concerto was a great disappointment; he appeared to have little overall grasp of the work — its rich but fading autumnal glow, its sweet sadness — and this naturally upset orchestra and conductor as well. Igloi simply could not muster the necessary power for much of the first movement, and the semiquavers of the second were untidy; temporary redemption came in a sensitive Adagio, but the Allegro in the last movement was taken much too fast and the final few bars were snatched by all and sundry. The orchestra made amends after the interval with a Tchaikovsky's Sixth Symphony of near-pristine freshness. The third movement (with excellent cymbals) induced the inevitable applause which so interrupts the piercing contrast of mood at the Finale; this must not be a postscript, but rather a deliberate progression from the previous movement. The sustained F sharp in the wind after each impassioned cry from the strings is almost belllike in tone, perhaps intended to indicate some sort of terminal summons in Tchaikovsky's hidden programme, becoming more urgent until it is finally sounded fortissimo on the muted horn.
French music gets a surprisingly poor showing: it is some time since Bizet, Franck, Honegger, Milhaud, Saint-Seens or Satie appeared in a programme, yet it was Jullien and other Frenchmen who in 1838 introduced Promenade Concerts to London — some sixty years before the Wood series began. We owe them gratitude even for the name; the modern English equivalent would be 'walkabout' — and that would never do. •
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