Latest news with #LondonPhilharmonic
Daily Mail
26-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Daily Mail
Royal fury over fake German prince who has met Prince Charles after using legal loophole to gain access to high society
A fake German prince who has rubbed shoulders with Prince Charles has been slammed for using a legal loophole to gain access to high society. His Serene Highness Dr Donatus, Prince of Hohenzollern, has spent the better part of two decades schmoozing with Britain's elite. But Donatus, who is really a 64-year-old music teacher called Markus Hänsel, was only able to do this after paying to be adopted by a minor German royal in the House of Hohenzollern at the age of 42. The real Prince of Hohenzollern, Karl Friedrich, the head of the House of Hohenzollern, has hit out at Donatus for using his family's name. He told The Sun: 'It makes me angry and frustrated, it leaves a very bitter taste in my mouth. 'Donatus is not my blood, he is not a member of the German royal family, he is simply a non-royal name bearer. 'He certainly cannot use the moniker of Serene Highness.' Donatus is connected to several music organisations and charities, alongside King Charles and Prince Edward, the Duke of Kent. He is the Chairman of the Friends of the English Chamber Orchestra and is also ambassador of The Purcell School for Young Musicians, in Bushey, Hertfordshire, both of which are organisations that King Charles is a patron of. Donatus is also a member of the International Board of Governors of the London Philharmonic Orchestra, of which the Duke of Kent is patron, and and Creative Benefactor of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. On top of this, he was previously a Principal Supporter of London's Royal College of Music, and a founding patron of the Royal College of Music Prince Consort Orchestra. In one clip taken from his Surrey home, a photo of him and King Charles was seen on the side. Prince Karl told the Sun that he confronted Donatus over his claim to his family's name, and it was revealed that Katharina Feodora, Princess of Hohenzollern, adopted him in around 2003. 'I wrote to Donatus and said I know all the members of my family but I hadn't heard of him. He wrote back and said, 'yes I have been adopted by your aunt Katharina'. 'I then spoke to my aunt and she told me, 'yes well, he offered me such an amount of money I couldn't resist'. She was always short of money. 'There's nothing we as a family can do.' Three years after he was adopted, he married Dr Viola Hallman, heiress of the Theis steel business, who later became Dr Viola Christa, Princess of Hohenzollern. They lived in a castle in Haelen, the Netherlands. Viola died of cancer in 2012. Donatus told The Sun in an emailed statement, written in the third person: 'Donatus has the same legal rank and rights represented in Germany's family law as Karl Friedrich of Hohenzollern, who does not have the authority to speak on behalf of all the members of the family.' He also says he 'financially supports' his 'mother' Katharina. Prince Karl said he is now seeking legal advice on the matter: 'We don't like somebody bringing the family name into a bad light. 'It's obvious he doesn't know me and the history of the Swabian branch of the Hohenzollerns. He's an uninformed man. 'He is not a member of the royal house of Hohenzollern.'
Telegraph
18-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
Glyndebourne's overdue Parsifal is full of unusual decisions
Nothing about Wagner's Parsifal is normal. It certainly isn't a normal opera, though countless directors have tried to make it one. Richard Wagner created his final major work, first performed in 1882, as a 'stage consecration play', casting its narrative of redemption in the form of a long, unfolding ritual. 'Here, time becomes space', as one line in the libretto has it. The usual play of narrative is reworked as Parsifal, an innocent fool, arrives as an outsider in a damaged chivalric community which guards the Holy Grail; this circle is ruled by a king, Amfortas, who has not only lost their Holy Spear to the malevolent sorcerer Klingsor, but been grievously wounded in the process. It has taken Glyndebourne a long time to mount its first Parsifal, which apparently had been the ambition of its founder John Christie back when the festival started in 1934. In its old house, the piece was impossible; even in the fine new theatre, opened in 1994, it's still a tight fit. The ensemble at Wagner's premiere numbered an orchestra of 107, a chorus of 135, and 23 soloists; here, they're reduced to manageable proportions. The grandest effects, such as recorded off-stage bells, are underwhelming, but conductor Robin Ticciati achieves miracles of ever-moving textures from the London Philharmonic in the orchestra pit, never wallowing in the sound but driving it forward and giving it an edge in the act preludes. The sense of momentum and wonder he creates gives the drama its essential underpinning. Director Jetske Mijnssen, highly praised and making her UK debut, mounts a production that's not only suited to the size of the theatre but also offers some startling new takes on the narrative. The innocent Parsifal of Daniel Johansson, light-voiced and not yet fully characterised, arrives in the traditional manner with dead swan in hand, but encounters a defensive crowd of knights who interrupt their Act One finale procession to beat him savagely. They're equally intolerant of Kristina Stanek's 'wild woman' Kundry, whose initial incarnation as a maid bringing in a tea-tray is quite a novelty. But to hear her voice blossom while keeping its incisiveness is one of the great thrills of the evening. The drab marble-pillared hall of Ben Baur's design is essentially a domestic setting. It imposes a dreary uniformity on proceedings, echoed in Gideon Davey's grey costumes, which are Nordic-noir with a visual dash of Munch or Hammershoi, red hair for the maids and the flower maidens. Silent added characters – Parsifal's mother, a younger and older Kundry – stimulate some new perspectives on Wagner's story. It's a nice touch in this male-dominated drama that after Kundry has washed Parsifal's feet, he, Christ-like, washes hers. But Parsifal himself is strangely recessed in the final drama, not helped by a sacred spear no bigger than a penknife. In this reductive setting, amid all the processing, John Tomlinson's veteran ex-king Titurel (still interfering) and John Relyea's implacable elder knight Gurnemanz have to sit round a tiny altar to celebrate the Office as if they were starting a hand of bridge. Relyea doesn't grow older across the acts as he should, but he remains the heroic controlling force and vocal star of the show, a truly remarkable feat. Meanwhile, Audun Iversen's fine wounded and despairing Amfortas seeks, through compassion, a reconciliation with Klingsor, magnificently declaimed by Ryan Speedo Green; and the production ends with an unexpected twist. On this first night, there were cheers for the music, but scattered grumbles at the drama. Either way, Glyndebourne's Parsifal is a gripping evening that will stimulate continuing debate about the real meaning of Wagner's final challenge to the world.
The Guardian
08-05-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Mini masterpieces: why Mahler's songs are marvels to rank alongside his symphonies
No orchestral season today is complete without a Mahler symphony. Three of them featured at last year's BBC Proms, this year there'll be four. Over a recent weekend in London, you could hear the first with the BBC Symphony Orchestra at the Barbican on a Friday and the following evening enjoy the epic glories of the eighth with the London Philharmonic at the Royal Festival Hall. Conductors from Boulez to Bernstein and Chailly to Rattle all have Mahler symphony cycles in their recorded catalogues. And this month the Concertgebouw in Amsterdam hosts a grand Mahler festival. Across 10 days all his symphonies will be performed by world-famous orchestras and conductors, his unfinished 10th among them and also his 'vocal symphony', Das Lied von der Erde. 'A symphony must be like the world. It must contain everything,' the composer famously said. But what of Mahler the miniaturist, the master of that most intimate and personal musical form, the song for voice and piano? While the gigantic symphonies rage in the great hall, Mahler's complete songs will be heard in the Concertgebouw's exquisite sister hall, the Kleine Saal. I will be playing them all at the piano, with 10 outstanding young singers across five concerts, including one programme devoted to the songs of his extraordinary wife, Alma Mahler. They may be less all-encompassing than the famous symphonies, but Mahler's songs are miniature masterpieces, ranking alongside the greatest by Schubert, Schumann, Brahms and Wolf. They are marvels: songs as expressive and finely crafted as the famous symphonies are visceral and overwhelming. Song composers tend to be pianists. Sometimes they are brilliant virtuosos such as Brahms, or failed virtuosos such as Schumann, or simply not virtuosos at all, such as Schubert, but all essentially write their songs from the perspective of their beloved piano. As a student at the Vienna Conservatoire, Mahler won prizes for his piano playing and it is clear that the instrument was an essential means for his own musical expression. All of his 50 or so songs have beautifully written piano parts. Many of them, Mahler later rewrote for voice and full orchestra, and these have become so famous in their gloriously colourful and sumptuous orchestrations that sometimes the original version with piano is left in the shade, the overlooked sister. Unlike Schumann, Schubert or Brahms, Mahler wasn't forever searching for musical inspiration in volumes of poetry. Indeed, his very earliest songs were often settings of his own texts, including the miraculous short song cycle, Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen (Songs of a Wayfarer). But his greatest resource for song inspiration was the collection of folk poetry compiled in the early 19th century by Achim von Arnim and Clemens Brentano, Des Knaben Wunderhorn (The Boy's Magic Horn). When Mahler when was 32 and already celebrated as a conductor, he published his first song settings – 10 poems from Des Knaben Wunderhornfor voice and piano. Surprisingly, these included just one song of love and longing - the inspiration, then as now, for the most songs – while the rest were a mixture of high-spirited 'character' ballads and songs that celebrated the beauty and joy of nature. Another kind of text made its first appearance in this collection also, one that was to inspire Mahler throughout his life: the poem set in, or around, the military barracks. Zu Strassburg auf der Schanz (At Strasbourg on the ramparts) is haunting, and the precursor for the dramatic marches that found their way later into his third and sixth symphonies. At the turn of the century, Mahler turned again to Das Knaben Wunderhorn for inspiration for 15 more songs for voice and piano, but this time he also made versions of them all for voice and orchestra (which continued to be his practice from this point on). The songs he was writing for voice and piano were inextricably linked to the symphonies that were also germinating in his mind. One of the early songs from Songs of a Wayfarer, for instance, was incorporated into his firstsymphony. In his second, third and fourth symphonies, singers join the orchestra and songs that he had already set from Des Knaben Wunderhorn for voice and piano were incorporated into the bigger orchestral works. Urlicht (Primal Light) and Des Antonius von Padua Fischpredigt (St Anthony preaches to the fish) both feature in the second symphony, and Es sungen drei Engel (Three Angels sang) and Ablösung im Sommer (The changing of the summer guard) in the third. The divine Das himmlische Leben (The heavenly life) is orchestrated as the last movement of the fourth symphony. These first four symphonies have since become known as the 'Wunderhorn Symphonies'. In February of 1901 Mahler suffered a haemorrhage that required emergency treatment and a period of recuperation. He spent those weeks at a villa near Maiernigg, on the Wörthersee, and it seems likely that it was here that he first read the poetry of Friedrich Rückert. The German poet's verses were to inspire some of Mahler's greatest music, including the celebrated Ruckert-Lieder. The exquisite delicacy of the vocal and piano writing in Ich atmet' einen linden Duft (I breathed a gentle fragrance) and Liebst du um Schönheit (If you love for beauty) and the searing intensity of Um Mitternacht (At Midnight) are overwhelming. In Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen (I am lost to the world) Mahler takes us to a place of utter peace where life's pain can no longer touch us, a vision of another world that has rarely been matched. By now, Mahler was the father of two daughters, and the poems that Rückert wrote after the death of his own children from scarlet fever profoundly moved him. Of the hundreds of poems written by Rückert to exorcise his grief, Mahler chose five for his song cycle for voice and piano, Kindertotenlieder (Songs on the death of children). The depth of the pain and loss that they express is devastating. Later orchestrated, for me they are his greatest achievement in song. Mahler's final songs were incorporated in Das Lied von der Erde (Song of the Earth), which he called his 'vocal symphony'. Mahler always intended this work, written between 1908 and 1909 at a time of intense personal crisis, to be for two voices and full orchestra. He wouldn't call the work his ninth Symphony out of superstition – Beethoven, Schubert, and more recently Bruckner and Dvořák had not lived long enough to write their respective 10th symphonies and Mahler, who had just completed his eighth, was painfully aware that his health was failing. Later, after he had completed Das Lied von der Erde, he started work on his ninth symphony and reassured Alma that it was in truth his 10th, and that the danger was past. Not so, sadly. When he died in 1911 of heart failure, he left his incomplete 10th symphony. The poems that inspired Mahler to write Das Lied von der Erde were from Die chinesische Flöte, versions by Hans Bethge of ancient Chinese poetry. They captivated him with their simple, timeless quality. Only recently it was discovered that Mahler also wrote a version for two voices and piano but in this one case we don't know whether the piano version came before or after the orchestrated version. My own feeling, having played and studied the work at the piano, is that he wrote the orchestral version first – the piano version doesn't have the same finesse or pianistic accomplishment of his other songs. Nevertheless, it is an enormous privilege to have Mahler's own version for piano and voices of this seminal masterpiece, considered by many his greatest work. I have spent 40 years studying and playing these songs and, unlike me alas, they never age. They range wide, from comic songs to serious metaphysical meditations, from touching and heartfelt love songs to sublime reflections on life's meaning, and from simple folksong-like miniatures to entire song cycles. Along the way, I have felt Mahler the pianist by my side, encouraging me to find the endless colours and subtlety in his piano writing, and to give these wonderful songs life. The Mahler festival 2025 takes place in and around the Concertgebouw, Amsterdam, from 8 to 18 May. Many events will be broadcast worldwide on the radio. Details here.
Times
24-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Times
Daphnis and Chloe review — an eye-popping circus version of Ravel
Roll up, roll up? With its ambitious Multitudes festival, the Southbank Centre is on a mission to prove that it can put on a show and put orchestral music at the centre of it. It's a welcome commitment to a genre that the arts centre has sometimes seemed worryingly diffident about, despite the world-class ensembles that rely on the Royal Festival Hall to show off their talents. So, we went to the circus — sort of. Rarely if ever has a conductor surely been as close to whirring bodies as Edward Gardner was to the acrobats of Circa, an Australian troupe invited to collaborate with the London Philharmonic on an eye-popping presentation of Ravel's ballet score, Daphnis and Chloe — with another choreographic number by
The Guardian
13-03-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
LPO/Edusei review – devastating Wijeratne and Martinů meet zany fun with Zappa
The London Philharmonic went out on an artistic limb in this unconventional concert on themes of cross-fertilization and exile, and to their credit they reaped substantial rewards. German conductor Kevin John Edusei was at the helm for an eclectic programme that included classical noodling by pop fusion guru Frank Zappa and that relative rarity, in this country at least, a symphony by the Czech composer Bohuslav Martinů. At its heart was the European premiere of a concerto for clarinet and string orchestra by Sri Lankan-born Canadian composer Dinuk Wijeratne. Written for clarinettist Kinan Azmeh, it reflects on the devastating displacement of more than five million Syrians from their homeland since 2011, not to mention the 400,000 dead. In six impactful movements, the soloist takes the audience on an emotional journey from carefree childhood, represented by the stamping Dance of Ancestral Ties, through nocturnal desolation in Exile: The Salt of Bread and Rhythm, and ending with hopeful resignation in Home in Motion. Azmeh gave a sinuous, idiomatic performance full of expressive intensity, with the composer himself lending support on piano, delving beneath the lid at times to stroke or strike the strings. Edusei and the orchestra were comfortably in the zone throughout. By way of contrast, the Zappa, drawing on pop music written in the 1960s, was a riot, with kooky titles such as Uncle Meat complemented by quirky orchestrations. The Dog Breath Variations, for example, featured wah-wah trombones, banjo and electric bass, while the mournful Outrage at Valdez incorporated vibraphone, tubular bells and mandolin. Fast-paced, funky, and with an earworm of a theme, G-spot Tornado did what it said on the can. By 1953 Martinů was an exile, struggling to earn a living far from his native land. Appropriately, his sixth and final symphony marries a nostalgic ache for the Bohemian countryside with the repeated threats of a doom-laden motif borrowed from Dvořák's Requiem. That duality was palpable as the polished warmth of the LPO strings was swept away by violent interjections from brass and percussion. Edusei delivered a sure-footed account of this enthralling work, though with a wider dynamic range he might have plumbed greater depths.
