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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.
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Leeds College of Music. The Venue. Leeds.
In recent times, Hallowe’en has slowly been catching on as an event somewhat divorced in meaning from the original Pagan celebration, which was perhaps rooted in the Celtic ‘Samhain’. Related to the end of Summer and the harvest festival, some believe it to have originally involved the stock-taking of supplies in preparation for the winter. Now, it has expanded beyond children’s apple-bobbing into an excuse for adults to carouse and revel; and, of course, there are commercial advantages. This gradual expansion of the festival into what, perhaps, one day, will be granted a bank holiday, owes its germination to the influence of American culture. How appropriate then, that the musical programme at The Venue, Leeds College of Music, on Wednesday 31st had its particular origins in the music of the Americas. A happy consequence of the influence of North American, economic and cultural expansionism, and through this influence the amplification of South American culture, the work performed spoke of diversity and was considerably contrasting. The featured performers were Michael Ladley on the flute, and Declan Forde on the piano. Both are alumni of Leeds College of Music.
Ladley was accompanied by pianist, Angela Lloyd-Mostyn, whose interpretation and accommodation spoke of perfectionsim. Their Latin American offering was Mower’s ‘Sonata Latino’. In the first movement – Salsa Montunate – Ladley ‘s unaccompanied, bare, staccato introduction arrested the ear, which was satisfied by the piano entry of bare, salsa, rhythmic reinforcement. This sense was compounded when the accompaniment was fleshed out harmonically. Occasional melodically convoluted and energetic flute runs were reflected competitively by the piano in a sort of call-and-response battle of complexity: technically, most impressive. Fine phrasing, expressive of the merriment of the dance, was sculpted through well blended dynamic contrasts with infinitessimally tight rhythmic execution. Extended instrumental technique came in form of piano string hand-dampening and tonguing on the flute. This section provided extra rhythmic sharpness but seemed slightly unbalanced. A more meditative portion toward the close of the movement saw soloist and accompanist in unison.
The second movement was a Rumbango. The unaccompanied, rubato flute introduction spoke meanderingly, without resolution, of uncertainty, anxiety and fear. This was highly effective. Resolution came with the piano entry, which maintained syncopated regularity throughout the movement, often incorporatting a spooky descending seventh figure. Sustained passages, at times lugubrious, were intersprersed with well executed, complex, energised agitiation. A comically simple, and more positive, ending amused for its impertinence.
We had a Bossa Merengova for the third movement. Fortunately for the assembled, the impulse to dance did not overwhelm this reviewer. Regularity in the accompaniment made the journey through partial cycles of fifths with a descending element below excellent, neuron-firing complexity performed with great accuracy in the flute. Toward the close the main theme returned with arpeggiated, descending harmonic sketches in the piano. The rhythmic and melodic execution combined to produce highly expressive phrasing, which accommodated graceful dynamic contrasts.
Following our foray into South America we made substantial inroads into the North with two jazz piano duets. As mentioned, Declan Forde was featured. On the other piano was none other than Les Chisnall. Their first piece was an arrangement of ‘For all we know (we may never meet again’ by Coots & Lewis. The root and fifth neutality of the initial ostinato with sustain slowly set the pace of the piece and gradually introduced the full arpeggiation. Highly expressive dynamics pierced the room at times. Although fairly sparse and Impressionistic the power of the semitonal shifts in the jazz harmony imparted a strong sense of melancholic nostalgia with a tincture of hope. Perfect and complimentary synchronisation allowed for well measured and balanced dynamic contrasts compounding the expressiveness of the rhythmic execution. A passage near the close became somewhat contrapuntal evoking a degree of formality and was extended with regular one-note repetitions. The decay of the sustained chord at the end of the piece might have been prolongued further owing to the sense of emotional gravity.
Next came ‘Body and Soul’ by Green. Chisnalll began with irregular dissonces, rhythmically spikey and with no apparent resolution forthcoming. With a sense of atonality this became more agitated. For a brief moment, Forde broke the feeling of uncertainty with a running, chromatic passage. Forde’s following entries seemed to be a sort of additive ostinato as Chisnall increased the sense of unresolved uncertainty with dissonant attacks. This was a graceful expression of uncertainty and, perhaps, anxiety. Eventually, a degree of anchoring was introduced with two-note alternating regularity, highly expressive of polytonal, sparse meanderings. What had become a regular ostinato (or riff) might be seen to have been to suggest the titular, bodily housing of the soul – and by no means a harmonious coupling – although the original piece was sensible for the most part. The unresolved uncertainty became more tranquil toward the close with suspensions gradually resolving more and more. A sense of inner peace, gracefully executed and paced, was the extemely moving end result. A highly expressive and moving journey rendered with great measure.
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Junior Royal Conservatoire of Scotland. Leeds College of Music…
Quarry Hill was once the site of a superlative bastion of corporation-led, atomised domesticity: Quarry Hill flats. The piece-meal demolition of this residential maze in the 1970s was much lamented by the father of this reviewer, despite his involvement in the planning of its destruction. We were given to understand that refuse tubes from every level of the flats took the raw material of rubbish to a base level incinerator that also acted as a common source of heating. Impressive indeed. Impressive, however, is that this site now acts as a cultural enclave within the Eastgate locale. Here is the West Yorkshire Playhouse, the BBC, the Aagrah Restaurant, and, of course, Leeds College of Music. And just as those refuse tubes were drawn around an efficient converter of mass into energy, so, now, the music college draws towards itself the raw material of musical burgeoning and generously radiates the heat of proficiency. Such proficiency and, indeed, talent was much in evidence at The Venue on Wednesday. This time it came, not in the forms of Leeds College of Music students, but in that of their counterparts from the Junior Royal Conservatoire of Scotland.
Clearly, here was exceptional talent. Three students performed: Kate Cooper (Trumpet), Robin Brandon-Turner (Oboe), and Daniel Silcock (Piano). Owing to the temperamental deficiency of the public transport system, no report can be provided on the first piece given by Cooper. The tale-end was full of multi-tonal jauntiness and increased the mental confusion of embarrassment caused during the reviewer’s bumbling entrance to the auditorium, following his sprint. Thanks a lot, Firstbus! Cooper’s second offering was ‘Trumpet Sonata: I Sarabande’ by Hubeau. Piano accompaniment, supplied with great subtlety by Anne MacGregor, aptly spoke of the Mediterranean by imitating the broken-chord strumming of a guitar. Cooper’s blended dynamic contrasts coupled with delicious phrasing suited well this, at times modal, at times diatonic sarabande. Sections played rubato were nicely balanced. The first movement – Allegro poco moderato – of Horovitz’s Trumpet Concerto came next. A lengthy, bitonal offering, Cooper’s rhythmic and melodic execution was shown off for its elegance. Where there was conversation between trumpet and piano around twisting, bitonal accompaniment, the effect was one of measured, meditative, reflection. New tonal areas were introduced with the interjections by the piano, as Cooper’s technical versatility was given full vent. Although very short, Bernstein’s ‘Rondo for Lifey’ was very difficult, in which regard Cooper pleased the audience with agility and excellent dynamic execution.
Now it was Robin Brandon-Turner’s turn to charm the assembled. He gave us all three movements of Albinoni’s Oboe Concerto in D minor. The piano introduction of the Allegro e non presto, in which bass line and melodic line conversed contrapuntally with many flourishes, prepared the way stylistically. Measured and finely phrased, the dynamic contrasts were laudable in the sequential descending and ascending passages, as was the dynamic blend in the sustained, sequential suspensions over partial cycles of fifths. Antiphonal, sequenced mimicry was well executed in terms of phrasing between oboe and accompanist. The sparseness of the solo interjections indicated great accuracy of timed attack. Next came the famous Adagio. A beautiful, pure tone gradually pierced the auditorium over the positive, innocent arpeggiations of the accompaniment. The trills were finely balanced with grace and well blended. This movement seemed to crystallize into an aural state of mind as sense of pure, innocent passion. The third movement Allegro, which was initially and convincingly fugal, was highly complex resulting in descending sequential passages above, again, partial cycles of fifths. Although slightly dragging in the rhythmic execution here, Brandon-Turner performed excellent dynamic detail through very moving and expressive phrasing.
David Silcock came next. His first offering: Chopin’s Scherzo No.1 in B minor. A highly amusing and diverting performance, complex running ascents and descents showed off considerable abilities of technical execution. Perhaps in keeping with the titular, comedic intentions, this interpretation was heavily pulled about, to the extent that the overall rendition seemed quite unbalanced. Amusing nonetheless. This work was followed by Sonata in E major, K20, by Scarlatti, wherein both technical ability and shear stamina shone. The sustain was applied with great discretion through initial passages contrasting at turns on the one hand with much energised agitation, and on the other with prolongations. Phrasing and dynamic contrasts were well balanced throughout. What was most impressive was the homogeneously interpreted accuracy in the pianism coupled with the physical range covered – a few times, arpeggiated, descending, diminished seventh passages led to the dominant and employed the entirety of the keyboard. These passages were usually led to via much agitation. A slower, tranquil section spoke with compassion and sagacity and was conveyed with considerable maturity. Toward the close, energised, convoluted, throbbing arpeggiations were executed with such verve as to create an impression of pulsation. The cadenza-like declaration of finality drove home the message of virtuosity.
These lunchtime concerts start at 1.05pm every Wednesday at The Venue, Leeds College of Music, for which payment is made on a voluntary basis.
