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Telegraph
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
Cheltenham Music Festival closes with an uproarious raspberry from Malcolm Arnold
Eighty years old this year, the Cheltenham Music Festival decided to salute its own illustrious past in a closing concert from the BBC National Orchestra of Wales that was celebratory, nostalgic and madly rumbustious, all at once. There was plenty to celebrate, not least the fact that the Cheltenham Music Festival must be the only one in Britain if not the world to give birth to its own musical genre. After it was founded in 1945 the Festival became an indefatigable commissioner of new works, many of which were symphonies of a challenging, modernist kind. Cheltenham was determined to put itself on the map culturally, and nurturing an ever-growing body of 'Cheltenham Symphonies' as they became known was a very good way to do it. Alas most of them have not survived the test of time. But as last night's performance of Malcolm Arnold 's Fifth Symphony proved, the test of time isn't always fair. In 1961 when this symphony was premiered the fashion was for deeply serious modernist symphonies, and Arnold's symphony was simply too badly behaved. It's got tunes, for one thing – really good ones, that sound like a cross between Mahler and Rachmaninov with a bit of 'filmic' sentimentality thrown in. There's also what sounds like a car-chase from an Ealing comedy, and a madly cheerful menagerie of military pipes, all mixed up with aggressively modernist dissonance, which is surely Arnold blowing a raspberry at the po-faced 1961 musical establishment. All this was led with appropriate gleeful relish by conductor Gergely Maduras, and played with uproarious energy by BBC NOW. It was madly entertaining, but the most shocking thing was the desolate ending, which gave a sense of existential dread lurking behind the motley parade of different moods. Alongside this 64-year-old festival commission was a brand-new one, SoundingsDancesEchoes, a Fanfare for Cheltenham by the young British composer Anna Semple. It began with faint percussive sounds like distant thunder which groped upwards and burgeoned first into notes and harmonies and then into glowing, wheeling brass chords. Just as it seemed the music was going to become properly celebratory it deflated and dissipated into stray sounds. Semple was clearly determined not to write a conventional fanfare, and the result certainly had a poetic suggestiveness. But like many 'atmospheric' pieces it was dogged by a lack of momentum. There were two more salutes to Cheltenham Festival's past. The first of them was the Four Sea Interludes from Britten's Peter Grimes, conducted by the composer himself at the very first Cheltenham Festival. It's one of those pieces that's in danger of becoming worn smooth from over-familiarity, but here its wild, untamed quality came across vividly. The other salute was Elgar's Enigma Variations, also played on that far-off day in 1945. Here the beefy vividness in the orchestral playing that worked so well for Arnold and Britten was a disadvantage. The performance seemed lacking in finesse and brass-heavy, though it was redeemed by some lovely solo playing, above all from the principal cellist and violist.
Telegraph
18-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
Gareth Malone's Messiah, review: hallelujah for this uplifting Easter choral celebration
I experienced a shiver of déjà vu while watching Gareth Malone's Messiah (BBC One). As the cherubic choirmaster set about coaching eight classical choral novices to sing at an Easter concert in Cardiff, I fought the niggling feeling that we'd all been here before. It turned out, of course, that we had. This wasn't another BBC repeat, but a sequel to Malone's Easter Passion from this time last year. The 2024 performance was Bach's St John Passion at the Millennium Centre's Hoddinott Hall. This time it was Handel's Messiah, four miles across the city at Llandaff Cathedral. Who says TV execs are running out of ideas? Then again, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. This was even better than its predecessor – partly thanks to the crowd-pleasing potency of the music and the mediaeval Gothic splendour of the venue. Handel's Messiah is the nation's favourite choral work – a hit since 1750, when it was first staged as an Easter fundraiser at London's Foundling Hospital. Now, 275 years on, came another charity concert, this one in aid of Children In Need. Maestro Malone has loved the oratorio since boyhood, but this would be his first time conducting it. We began with him picking eight untrained singers from hundreds of applicants, before embarking on two months of intense tuition. Learning vast swathes of music meant a merciless rehearsal schedule. After 18 years on our TVs, Malone might be greying at the temples but he retains his boyish enthusiasm and happy knack for teasing out raw talent. As always, the human stories behind the voices packed a punch. Naomi was undergoing chemotherapy for incurable breast cancer but determined to make new memories while she could. Richard recently lost his wife to the same disease and was singing through his grief. Harry was half-deaf but his prosthetic ear had changed his life. It was all testament to the healing power of music. In between the baton-waving, Malone delved into the history of Messiah, meeting experts to explore its religious meaning and place in British culture. Musicologist Dr Hannah French gave him a tour of Handel's home in London's (and Monopoly's) Mayfair. Cardiff vicar Father Jarel Robinson-Brown showed him artworks depicting the life of Christ. Mezzo-soprano Rebecca Afonwy-Jones told him the powerful story of Handel's favourite singer, the scandalous Susannah Cibber. Malone knows his stuff but wears it lightly. He spreads the gospel of music by making it accessible. 'That's enough yakking, let's get cracking,' he told his charges. At the end of one gruelling session, he lightened the mood by performing a serviceable waltz. Strictly Come Dancing producers should take note and sign him up for the next series. The second episode, airing on Easter Sunday, sees a dramatic moment when one singer collapses – ironically, during Thou Shalt Break Them – and requires emergency medical attention. Then comes the main event: a glorious two-hour recital, alongside the BBC National Orchestra and Chorus of Wales. As a bonus gift from the Easter bunny, one of Malone's discoveries is offered the chance to perform an inspiring solo. Like last year, this was a welcome opportunity to put a choral concert at the heart of the Easter schedules. The BBC fulfilled its Reithian remit by showcasing high culture with a populist twist. Most of all, it was moving TV, full of humanity and love. Hallelujah indeed.
