James Barnor: Ever Young. Impressions Gallery, Bradford.

Aesthetica Magazine: James Barnor: Ever Young. Impressions Gallery, Bradford.

Haroon Mirza. The Hepworth. Wakefield.

Aesthetica Magazine. Haroon Mirza. The Hepworth. Wakefield.

Hans Josephsohn. Yorkshire Sculpture Park. Wakefield.

Aesthetica Magazine. Hans Josephsohn. Yorkshire Sculpture Park. Wakefield.

Simon Lindley (organ). Mill Hill Chapel. Leeds. Tuesday 14th…

City Square is a curious mix of the old and the new. While Victorian patriarchs stand surrounded by lamp-brandishing, female nudes, a flock of seagulls ascends the building of what seems to be some sort of law firm. This is from a purely sculptural perspective. However, the visitor to Leeds might be forgiven for supposing that some of these statues come to life on Friday and Saturday nights. Standing with one’s back to Mill Hill Chapel the view is of the old post office. It seems to be a sort of fish restaurant now. Official formality has given way to greater leisure. The balance between these two forces was perfectly struck on Tuesday at Mill Hill Chapel. The graceful though severe Gothic arches of the fine, stained glass windows housed much warmth and mirth. Dr. Lindley reflected that it didn’t seem like a year since this series started previously. He put this impression down to “seniority”. It seemed that, to the amusement of many in the audience, they were able to empathise with this sentiment.

The effect of this organ is quite different to that of those in Leeds Minster and the town hall. Mill Hill Chapel is a much smaller building. The sound of the organ seems softer and somehow slightly muffled in comparison. In this acoustic the overall effect is one of relative modesty. This was quite charming.

We kicked off with Elgar’s Imperial March. Because there is virtually no decay to the sound in this space, the dynamic contrasts (between loud and quiet), both gradual and stark, were much more easily discernible. These were expertly sculpted through phrasing that saw descending flourishes and bright, brassy fanfares over the walking bass. The passages that were less march-like came across very jolly as an insoucient melody in a very synthetic sounding timbre jumped above ‘um-cha’ interplay. We were tantalised with the expectation of resolution as what’s known as a dominant pedal brought us to satisfaction. The overall sense of modesty made this a joyful rather than triumphal rendition.

Two pieces by Alec Rowley followed. The first – Benedictus – was based on a poem by Christina Rossetti. A hymn-like melody soothed above an undulating bass line. Here was much more variation between the different stops, and therefore pipes, than in the Elgar. Many different kinds of sound (timbre) were used as a result.

The second piece by Rowley – Heroic Suite – was in four parts. Heroic Postlude began sounding very angular because of the use of modes. Fanfares vied for domination with ascending flourishes here. This initial section was very arresting owing to the precision of the execution. It came back towards the close. sandwiching a quieter, more piano section that employed the normal (diatonic) scales. The second movement – Lament – saw a stern, oboe-like sound for the hopeful and yearning melody over a chordal accompaniment in a timbre that reminded me of the taste of ginger beer. Third from Rowley’s pen came Mood Fantasy. This began antiphonally with rapid, regular exchanges between treble and bass. The whole movement was very quiet and put across by Lindley with a very tender lightness of touch. The bass pedals seemed to steer the direction of the piece with economy. Finally came Triumph Song. This did what it said on the tin. It really woke us up with its rapidity, loudness and unexpected harmonic shifting.

Four Extemporisations, by Percy Whitlock, came next. The first – Carol – began in triple time with the melody in a flute-like timbre. This was underpinned by a descending bass in the pedals. Overall it was playful and nonchalant. Divertimento was, as Lindley described, “skittish”. A clarinet-like timbre saw a relentless, rapid running melody: very light. Harmonic stabs underpinned this in a soapy timbre.  This came back at the end, sandwiching a more reflective, slightly triumphal section. All was rhythmically spruce and finely sculpted. Fidelis was the title of the third movement, which was very meandering. Fanfare was the fourth. A trumpet-like timbre rang out as expected and descended several times in sequence. This piece confused the ear with surprising results because it  was chromatic and employed additive rhythm (bars of music of differing lengths one after another). Certainly here, and with the rest of the works performed, Lindley’s execution shone with brilliance. Possibly, this was due to the greater comparative intimacy of the venue.

Next came Sanctuary of the Heart by Albert Ketelby. Full of resonance and connotation, the piece was reminscent, at least melodically, of the sort thing one might associate with The Salvation Army. This in turn has a quality somewhat redolent of music hall songs. The highlight of the piece came when a throbbing triplet accompaniment, beautifully sculpted with the phrasing and dynamics, added a degree of drama. It was extremely moving.

The recital closed to a work from the pen of Liszt – although it sounded, in its complexity, like Bach. This, of course, was the intention. It was titled ‘Prelude and Fugue on BACH’. Here, the letters of ‘Bach’ are employed throughout as the names of the notes employed as the main theme (in German). This was astonishing. No written word can do the piece justice. I would suggest that the reader listens to it for him/herself. The performance conveyed Liszt’s homage with immense power through boldly measured execution. Mill Hill organ recitals continue on Tuesdays at 1.00pm. Payment is voluntary.

Claire Aho: Studio Works. Photographers’ Gallery. London

Aesthetica Magazine. Claire Aho: Studio Works. Photographers’ Gallery. London.

Yinka Shonibare: Fabric-ation. Yorkshire Sculpture Park. Wakefield

Aesthetica Magazine. Yinka Shonibare: Fabric-ation. Yorkshire Sculpture Park. Wakefield.

Phillip McCann (Cornet) & Simon Lindley (piano & organ).…

Brass instruments are associated with the brass bands of heavy industries, many of which have now disappeared. In many particular instances only the bands remain. Originally the brass bands were set up in association with collieries, factories etc. in order to divorce music from drink. A sober workforce was a more productive workforce. This paternal attitude can be felt to grate somewhat. Given this sentiment, there was a happy revelation on Monday lunchtime. Dr. Lindley reflected dryly on Phillip McCann’s fortitude in performing at that time. The colliery brass band that he directs had got through to the national finals the previous night. However, his performance at the town hall bore no traces of the Bacchanalia at which Lindley hinted. Indeed, it was an uplifting and refreshing treat.

A Hunsberger arrangement of Levy’s Grand Russian Fantasia was the musical greeting. Grandiose, Romantic chords on the piano full of very Russian, mediant shifts introduced the cornet. The liquid chrystal tone of the instrument was charming. In between the occasional, agitated piano interlude what sounded like a Russian dance was heard. McCann showed his mettle with great talent as the melody became more virtuosic and triple tonguing (rapid passages of short notes) was applied. Dynamic contrasts were subtle and the piece was finely balanced rhythmically. It was in the next piece that the tone and timbre of the instrument shone. Unfamiliar as I was with the individual sound of the cornet, what impressed most was  its humility and modesty compared with that of the trumpet. Both qualities were highly appropriate in Himes’s All that I am. We were moved to hear that the piece was composed by Himes on hearing that his wife had fallen ill. Profound sentiment was expressed, which taken with the context, spoke of duty. Following the depth of this piece came playful, light relief as Lindley performed solo Binge’s Miss Melanie on the organ. ‘Um-cha’ interplay underpinned a cheeky melody full of unexpected shifts.

A piece mimicking birdsong from the Thuringian forest came next by Hoch: Sing Vogelchen aus dem  Thuringerwald. Pleasing for the harmonic simplicity, well-balanced cornet trills followed melodic call and response where the response was muted – the birds in the forest were communicating ata distance. The piano accompaniment was highly varied – at times grand chords rang out only to be followed in other interludes with arpeggiated chords. An organ solo followed the birdsong – Howells’ Rhapsody IV in C. This sounded very angular and square harmonically because it was polytonal and modal. There was much impressive thrashing about by Lindley in this piece as he altered the organ stops and depressed the pedals. This was a sight to behold! The power of the town hall organ was shown off in the extreme here because the loudest stop was used. 

Then came a very familiar piece on the cornet with piano accompaniment: Aria con Variazioni. The well-known tune for this piece was that of the ‘Harmonious Blacksmith’. As the title suggests, the tune was repeated a  number of times but varied each time. This allowed McCann to show off again as the variations became more involved and rapid. A soothing, much slower organ solo composed by Sowerby followed to calm us all down.

A piece by Rance and arranged by Bulla came next: The Reason. With some jazz harmonies and in triple time the piece was higly reminiscent of a music hall song. Graceful passages on the cornet were supported with rhythmic spruceness on the piano. The Last Rose of Summer was the next offering, arranged by Hunsberger. This is a traditional Irish folk-song –  not the sort of thing I would usually associate with cornet and piano. However, here the modesty of the timbre was extremely effective in a very moving execution. Nevin’s Will O’ the Wisp was the organ solo that followed. A playful, light piece in which a rapid, running, continuous melody soothed and charmed in a flutey timbre. Typical of the programs at the town hall lunchtime concerts, this contrasted with the previous piece – you never get bored at these recitals. Lindley stayed put at the organ for the next cornet solo: The Old Rugged Cross by Bernard/Leidzen. This was a Salvation Army number. Funnily enough, again,  it sounded a lot like a musical hall song as with The Reason, which was also a Salvation Army song. Could there be a connection here?

With piano accompaniment the concert closed on Koenig’s Post Horn Galop. Here the cornet was dispensed with and a Post Horn was produced – a long, thin, metal tube reminiscent of a ‘yard of ale’. An extremely rapid, triple tonguing virtuoso display ended the concert with audacity.

James Capper: Divisions. Yorkshire Sculpture Park.

Aesthetica Magazine. James Capper. Divisions. Yorkshire Sculpture Park.

Opera North: Otello. Verdi. Grand Theatre, Leeds.

The Grand Theatre stands on Upper Briggate. As one of the jewels in the city’s crown it is easy to imagine that this temple for cultural ceremony might invoke feelings of jealousy in neighbouring metropolitan inhabitants. In this light it seems rather appropriate that it should house Verdi’s interpretation of Othello, in which jealousy is teased out centre-stage. However, where mild, inter-city rivalry is used mainly as a source for light, civic humour, the emotion depicted on stage was profoundly sinister. The villain of the piece is Iago (David Kempster), who, having had his chances for promotion thwarted by Otello’s favourite, Cassio (Michael Wade Lee), seeks to bring him down along with the ‘Lion of Venice’ himself. Iago convinces Otello, with great cunning, of his wife, Desdemona’s (Elena Kelessidi) infidelity with Cassio. The end result is that Otello (Ronald Samm) murders Desdemona, and then, on discovering the falsity of his suspicions, commits suicide.

Samm convinced of one in torment with much head clasping and energised outbursts of suppressed rage. His body language imparted the extreme emotional shifts to and from trusting tenderness and the writhing distress of paranoia. Vocally he was extremely powerful and was never overpowered by the orchestra. This lent greater impact to the outbursts of paranoia and jealous fury along with stentorian affirmations of authority. He had great presence and charisma. When giving vent to such negative, unattractive sentiment a peculiar mode of expression was employed: he did not apply vibrato in the extremity of his upper register. This gave the most apparently heartfelt, high-pitched expressions a more tortured feel. It is not clear whether this was an intended technique or an incapacity. In the Love Duet it was inappropriate. Neverless, it was at least a highly effective method for conveying torment.

As for the tormentor, Kempster’s interpretation spoke well of Iago’s cynicism and bitterness. Breaking the fourth wall in soliloquy, his hatred of Otello was clearly stated with great venom. Here, Verdi makes him a devotee of Satan. Kempster’s vocal performance was finely controlled and sinister with sonorous and vindictive masculinity. A laudable detail in the production compounded his role of manipulator: at one point he stands high above a tormented Otello looking through a window as though he were a literal puppeteer. Kempster resisted well the pitfall of becoming comic or pantomimic, not only with the convincing and well-controlled vocal expressions of bitterness, but with his authoritative presence.

It was a real treat to hear Elena Kelessidi. In the love duet, she seemed to strike the balance beautifully between passion and sweetness, and that old-fashioned sort of uxurial dutifulness. What came across as great control and sensitivity of interpretation was most evident in the ‘Hail Mary’ where devotion and humility were imparted with grace. This finely executed aria warranted applause, and many in the audience attempted it. However, it would seem that Otello is a Verdi opera composed in his later years and therefore there was no room for it. This was not one of those Verdi operas that progresses with clear lines drawn between arias and intervening choruses and recitatives. And in the orchestral accompaniment to the arias there was no foot-tapping ‘um cha’ interplay. The music was much more flowing and continuous (possibly reflecting the influence of Wagner).

However, this musical continuity without punctuation was highly effective as a way of creating a sense of oppressive claustrophobia – there was no escape from Otello’s mental torment. The sense of claustrophobic, jealous paranoia was heightened by wonderful lighting, costume and the set. The overall impression was of coolness brought with the general blue colouring, creating an.oppressive feeling of corporate sterility. It is possible that this contrived effect was the result of the influence of cinematography. The historical context lent to the production was the Mediterranean around the time of the Second World War. This worked well as a piece of historical context – nothing in the libretto jarred with it. Choruses raised the hair on the back of the neck with great power over an orchestra that unfalteringly supported a production full of darkness.

Barbara Hepworth: The Hospital Drawings. The Hepworth. Wakefield.

Aesthetica Magazine. Barbara Hepworth: The Hospital Drawings. The Hepworth, Wakefield.