Most of my time in Bristol sees me creating new video and live performance, aside engaging with the city’s cultural scene. It has been forever since I last went to the Bristol Beacon, it was so long ago it had the previously lamentable name of Colston Hall. Naturally, so much has happened in the city since the pandemic in the years after, we see the venue with its fetching new name: Bristol Beacon.
Inside the hall, the renovation is sensible and the acoustic remains powerful. I often have to remind myself that Cardiff has been bereft of St. David’s Hall for a few years and I get annoyed thinking just how much longer it will take to become a venue again. Though travelling to Bristol is always swift from the Welsh capital, the pull of the Beacon is strong. The Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra shall be frequenting the space considerably. Their big plans see an extensive programme of all of Beethoven’s symphonies over a two-year season.
Upon hearing Beethoven’s First Symphony, we are taken to the starting ground for the young composer. This remains highly classical in nature, Haydn smiles here, his teaching of Beethoven may have been turbulent, but the influence is profound. Mark Wigglesworth on the podium brought the scooping energy required. This huge journey has now commenced, leading to the several hours of this symphonic canon. I’d say the composer certainly went on to better and more vital writing; the later symphonies remain justifiably popular. Whilst I can’t say I’ll be in Bristol for all of these symphonies, I admire the BSO for the bold endeavour.
Coming back from Bayreuth in Germany often leaves you fatigued, yet always hungry for more Wagner (I plan to go back). Whilst I skipped their Ring Cycle this year (which was notoriously booed for its AI imagery), a chance to hear highlights or the “bleeding chunks” should never be missed. In an arrangement by Henk de Vlieger, The Ring: An Orchestral Adventure gives you the best bits from the full fifteen hours. Even with these seventy minutes you won’t hear all the good stuff, The Entry of the Gods into Valhalla and Wotan’s Farewell are tragically absent. Wagner has naturally been credited with a vast influence upon fantasy film scores, his use of leitmotifs, the bold, chromatic and loud demands can deter some away from him (amongst other justifiable reasonings).
Wagner’s music is often enthralling, and these extracts are no different. Spanning across these vast operas, we see a small army of percussion, four patient harps, considerable brass and even his own invention: the Wagner tuba (played by the French horns). The Bournemouth Symphony got a tight grasp around the music, delivering it with an invigorated prowess that remains rather stirring. The complimentary programme didn’t list the players of the BSO, yet Principal Horn player Eleanor Blakeney had a few smirking horn solos off stage, evoking the ego of the hero Siegfried.
It’s the Ring’s innumerable phases of terror, joy, ecstasy, wrath and redemption that stay with you.
A strong double-bill of Bartók’s Bluebeard’s Castle and Stravinsky’s Oedipus Rex opens the new season of the Welsh National Orchestra.
The WNO’s Bluebeard’s Castle is impeccable with excellent performances and a superb orchestra. Christina Rice stands out as Judith, Bluebeard’s new wife who asks incessantly to open every door, reveal all secrets, and bring light to the dark castle. Nathan Berg, as Bluebeard, counters Judith’s insistence with his dark tones. The orchestra, conducted by Lidiya Yankovskaya, is in perfect balance with the performances.
The production borrows from the ENO’s production of Bluebeard’s Castle with minimal staging. Mundane objects take on symbolic significance. Thus, the wine becomes blood, sparkling confetti shine like gold in the light. Nevertheless, the light design was disapointing as it did not convey the circular move from darkness to light and then again to darkness of the opera. The addition of music from Hildegard Von Bingen at the opening of the piece, whilst beautifully executed, stood in contrast with Bartók’s music.
Stravinsky’s piece, often and perhaps more appropriately performed as an oratorio, is not on a par with Bartók’s Bluebeard. The performances were strong. Tenor Peter Hoare is a fearful Oedipus who is overwhelmed by fate. The power of fate comes through in the powerful voice of Stephen Richardson as Messenger and Creon. Christine Rice is a self-assured Jocasta who realises that the oracle was right and she married her own son. Nathan Berg is the prophet Tiresias, at first mocked but later proven right. There is no escape from fate.
Stephen Richardson (Creon & Messenger) and Peter Hoare (Oedipus) in Oedipus Rex. Photograph: Dafydd Owen.
On a superficial level, both one-act operas share themes of male sexuality, death, and self-destruction. According to the director Joe Hills-Gibbins, ‘it’s a sort of psychosexual nightmare double bill.’ However, this seems to read Stravinsky’s Oedipus through Freud’s influence in late 20th century Western culture. The psychological interpretation provides a tenuous link between the two operas.
Musically, Bartók’s Bluebeard’s Castle and Stravinsky’s Oedipus Rex are worlds apart. Bartók’s emotional charge and polytonal motifs build an internal world of trauma, which contrasts with Stravinsky’s neoclassicism and irony. The staging of Oedipus Rex departs from Stravinsky’s conception that saw it as detached and static. It stresses the caricatural nature of the characters of Oedipus, Jocasta, and Creon by having them strut on the stage. It is less effective than Bluebeard, yet the WNO offers a good opening of the new slimmed down season.
It’s rare to see anyone make it to one hundred years old. Even for composers, this is such a non-occurrence, other than Elliot Carter and Leo Ornstien (who amazingly lived through three centuries) that it should always be cause for celebration. György Kurtág, the Romanian composer can now be added to this short list, as he turned a century old back this February.
Perhaps best known for his Játékok, or ‘Games’, this is spiralling catalogue of mostly piano music spanning over fifty years. Consisting of over four hundred movements, Kurtág was adding to its mass as near as 2021. What I do remember fondly is the full, mesmerising performance done at the Royal Academy of Music in London in 2024, Joanna MacGregor played with twenty piano students. This was an all-day affair and roughly the music of Játékok lasted six and a half hours.
What has felt more exhausting was the three concerts at Wigmore Hall this weekend, spread out over a near twelve-hour period. Pierre-Laurent Aimard, who was a pupil of Oliver Messiaen, has chosen his selection from this epic piano saga, with musical choices of Bach, Beethoven and Schumann at each step, or as billed here: ’Breath’. Arriving on stage for the morning concert, he appeared aloof, as if not wanting to be there. This was, of course, the starting section with ‘Bored’, where it is notated to walk down the keys and play what is seemingly a random set of descending notes and then back.
It is the humour that shines through in these first few ‘Books’, Pierre is joined by the striking Lorenzo Soulès, who joined in the boredom and then duos on one piano, famously from Kurtág often played live with his now late wife Márta. A ‘Quarrel’ movement saw them pushing the same repeated keys, cleverly matching a vocal argument of ‘always having the last word’. Of note are the many Bach transcriptions, we sadly did not hear some of my personal favourites though ‘Gott, durch deine Güte’ held the atmosphere of serenity for a few minutes. Most of this first hour saw thumping tone clusters, humour abound between both players and a highly irregular, distilled sound world unfurling out of the piano.
We heard many numerous parts of this gigantic work, and the little slivers of performance are always a delight. It’s such a shame these die down as the books go on. In the second set at 5pm, Pierre returned solo (same for the third) and had further violent tendencies in their noise and impact. Birthday greetings and a homage to Janáček are present, as the Beethoven Bagatelles often cleansed the pallet after the angular abstractions. Pierre remains a fascinating pianist, in whatever he plays. His power over the keys remains masterful, the graceful consideration for every note with his own eyebrow raising, mouth chewing is for every bar. The Beethoven here is also really strong, I didn’t think this would work with the rest, but they actually did.
By the 9pm concert, a profound fatigue had set in. The addition of an upright piano on stage, Kurtág’s admiration for the instrument is proven with lovingly sombre writing for it. His use of the middle peddle creates a serene and soft palette, pianissimo indeed. The Schumann here is exquisite, especially the well regarded ‘Im ruhigen Tempo’ from Gesänge Der Frühe. This is some of Schumann’s finest writing and is just so touching on an upright. Little to no ‘performance’ in these later ‘books’, though some warfare still prevails, the reconciliation and memories are the names of movements, aside continuing dedications and poetry.
Had these concerts been played slightly nearer each other, I may have had the stamina for them, even after hearing the whole work back two years ago. I was not the only one who struggled, as some chose to contribute their own ‘snore games’ during this last concert.
Fine playing as ever and a stellar reminder of one of the great living composers.
I did not have on my bingo card this year London based opera with New Zealand musicians. This paring of Weill and Poulenc is bold and may not have paid off. But I imagine local opera companies were in attendance to check out the talent.
Talent there is aplenty, soprano Katherine McIndoe who has two demanding roles (Anna and Elle) to tackle in both operas. Facinging both musical and operatic forms, she did well in both, vocally content and nimble, though the Human Voice may have faired better for her. The shopping list of sins may not have been dramatically fished out in this production but with the double pianos of Adrian Salinero and Elspeth Wilkes, it was tight and fun listen to. Less of lecture from Brecht, as the written element is obvious in this messaging. Both operas were translated into English (W.H. Auden Chester Kallman and Joseph Machlis) and clearly audible.
Herry Grigg and Phil Wilcox play the absurd, kitchen sink parents in the Weill. Both vocally solid, paired well behind a cloth for a shadow effect at times throughout. Behind said curtain is percussionist Kepa Malgorzata not seen for most the piece, her banging on drums and tam-tam strikes and a lovely cabaret feel to things. This was musically great, but the production needed a bit more panache to it.
You dont need to do much with The Human Voice. Poulenc’s one hander, based on the Jean Cocteau play has never lost its impact. Director Alejandro Bonatto has kept it simple and the pull is still there. This is always a sad thing to see and hear, Poulenc’s ear for sentimentality whilst also capturing lush chords and harmonies, is a fine thing.
Our lady is off and on her home phone, at the mercy of operators, bad signals and a distant boyfriend. Somethings never change! Wilkes returns on the keys and is sharply grounded to the score. Some okay-ish black and white film is seen towards the wrap up and Salinero pops back, now on flute matching Wilkes, playing the trenchcoat boyfriend ending this relationship.
This was eventful, but more risks should be taken.
After a week of travels in both Austria and Germany, I would find my journey’s end with Parsifal in Bayreuth. For me this is one of Wagner’s best bit of music. A personal and often enticing affair dripping in Christian imagery and themes. Having heard this live twice only in concert form (Marinksy & Opera North), a chance to finally see it staged was vastly enticing.
After two days of The Flying Dutchman and Rienzi in Bayreuth, I was impressed with most things about both productions. This Parsifal broke the cycle in an odd, fruity production which left me wanting more. Jay Scheib has a bold vision for these four hours, heavy in faith and ceremony. The set design by Mimi Lien would evoke a red light district, Fallout, saint’s relics and florescent tube lighting. Video work by Joshua Higgason would see vast IMAX screens the back of the stage pulling focus on this large stage to the characters in question, live streamed for great effect. An extensive scene of the filmed dressing of a wound, is bloody and has left some viewers nauseated.
Costumes are a variable: army camouflage, Summer of Love, gowns, t-shirts and more. ‘Remember Me’ is seen on the back of Parsifal for the third act, a nod to memorials in the R’n’b world. This story of the Welsh knight Perceval (the story is here set in Spain), sees him go from boy to man, via the quest for The Holy Lance, which pierced Christ’s side. Amfortas is given the same wound as he also got struck but it, via Klingsor the wicked knight who went off the rails. Kundry, a sorceress at times aids and in other moments torments these knights, via the hand of Klingsor. The Holy Grails also plays a part in the story, the redemptive qualities of Parsifal through his trail by fire to adulthood involve the sacred artefact as well as the Lance.
I did not find everything to glue together here very well. Actors and the chorus did not always have a lot to do, even in the elongated Transformation Music and the finale. The live video might have been one of the more strong accepts of this staging. Klingsor’s lair looks more like a slither of a Soho nightclub, with flashing harsh colours and a huge crack in the wall. The Flower Maidens sent to woe Parsifal are hippy chic, rich in reds, pinks and greens. The first act sees a towering beacon, illuminated for dramatic moments not really suggesting more than a lighthouse. It just feels like there were ideas for the sets and costumes without any real connecting tissue to it all.
As the singing went there was little to be upset about. As Parsifal, Andreas Schager proved valiant and rich in the role. Heavy going by any standard, the metamorphosis between these acts sees more vocal drama, leaps and sweeping proclamations for the part. Amfortas, the wounded elder knight, was Michael Volle, who in this take appears to have a severe case of hernia of a wound. A lot of suffering comes out of this role, as he is in pain for 95 per cent of his time on stage, this goes into the vocal line and Volle seeks great depths and finds jewels. Gurnemanz from Georg Zeppenfeld is always a lovely part, here no different in the inclusion of the young Parsifal to their rituals, singing the Good Friday Music with elegance and vigour.
Titurel, Amfortas’ father is the offstage Vitalij Kowaljow, burring during the arriving ceremonies, as his son writhes in agony. Klingsor is the fabulous Jordon Shanahan and is owning every moment of this. Clad in heels, a salmon suit and foil helmet the ludicrous nature of this version is not a divergence and is fun. Also nicely delivered thanks to the de Sade like take on part by Shanahan, a shame we only see him at the start and end of fact two. Miina-Liisa Värelä had a little iffy start as Kundry, another ocean like character. She really gets into her alluring goth girl outside Blue Banana in act two, with the dress sense. Act three sees her sing very little (two lines), so the second act gives Värelä daring drama in the seduction of Parsifal to betray him. Impressed by her efforts, the audience found her also very effective. The Flower Maidens and Celestial Choirs are choral highlights in an opera hard to stage, here in Bayreuth who could do these passages better? I doubt anyone.
Said choirs moved me near to tears, the orchestra bounded through this bulk of an opera with reverence and power. Conductor Pablo Heras-Casado did not rush this work and it may have felt a little long in parts, but often the momentum was there and it glistened.
So, I head home with a broken back due to the famously stiff seats (they make you sit bolt upright) and some of a militant and highly unfriendly audience (some were lovely, honest). I may not return again to the Bayreuth Festival for these reasons, yet the stellar musicianship and artistic displays are always worth the journey.
One thing Wagner made clear. There would never be performances of his Rienzi in Bayreuth. An earlier work from his canon, there have been versions with various lengths and changes. For the 150th anniversary of the creation of the Bayreuth Festival, ‘Rienzi, the last of the Tribunes’ has been seen and heard for the first time. It’s all very exciting.
I knew not the music, bar the loved overture (the first ever piece of music at the Sir Henry Woods Proms) which can easily been forgotten out of the rest of the canon. There is a shadow which looms over the score, not quite the Wagner most know, the latter darker ventures. There is a leaning on Grand French opera, Wagner’s teacher Meyerbeer a good example of this style. The story is also relatively simple, even with the typical Wagner length of four hours (there appears to be a version as long as The Mastersingers of Nuremberg – 4 hours, forty minutes). Rienzi rises in popularity; this is actually a person from history: Cola di Rienzo from the 14th Century.
He advances in the polls and earns the Tribune position in Rome. Through dodgy dealings and a lot of Shakespearian murk, there is an inevitable to the story. History never changes. Through this brand-new production at the festival, we get a contemporary twist with touches of Trump, the Titus film from Julie Taymor, Arturo Ui and a whole lot of spin. Given the change and setting of now, it’s an absorbing, at times fun and intimate outing. Though the scale of this opera rivals much of his later, moody output, Wagner creates many vast plateaus for the chorus. They own many wads of this opera.
Directors Alexandra Szemerédy and Magdolna Parditka (also making set and costume) have taken risks and set it in what appears to be today’s world of piercing political duality. The extensive overture sees Rienzi lose a child of his, this grief then permeates the entire opera, tragically effecting his career. The elongated ballet sequence in act two, a staple of Paris opera (with even Wagner’s cheeky changes in other opera caused riots), is a joy here. I didn’t expect this serious audience to be laughing the way they did, as said ballet was a wonderful send up of Bayreuth itself.
The chorus watch vaudevillian parody of most of Wagner’s operas. Some of the chorus mock us as an audience running about at intermission trying to use the toilet, eat pretzels and make sure their heels stay on their feet. I loved all this, even through its silliness. The event that this was at in the opera would suggest a Met Gala do. Many statements about power and wealth are dripping in this. Its Video work frequently alludes to fascist imagery and news reels. Severe concrete and militaristic attire are the main stays of the set and dress.
As for the cast, chorus and orchestra, everything is matched near perfect to perfection. I’ve spoken of the many passages for the chorus, who’s emotional depth is touching, nearly profound. Other highlights include the harps (Wagner uses them so scarcely), bells and even an organ into the fold. The orchestra, under the baton of Nathalie Stutzmann glistened and glowed in this mighty piece. This may not have been written for this famous opera house, but the sound thanks to the impeccable acoustic and the finest musicians made this a treat to the ears.
It’s been a whole twelve years since I’ve attended the Bayreuth Festival in Germany. Seen as a pinnacle for opera lovers world-wide, tickets are highly sought after. There are always scandals, I’m thinking back to the head turning Ring Cycle I saw back in 2014 directed by Frank Castorf. This year’s Ring staging saw booing and disapproval due to the use of Artificial Intelligence, though I’ve heard it before and it does not take much to set them off. There are bold stagings and then some! Yet with seats that are notoriously uncomfortable (as Richard Wagner intended) and audiences on the much stricter side, could I make it through the other side?
This Flying Dutchman is the second this year for me after the Welsh National Opera fare. Here tackled by Dmitri Tcherniakov, get gaze upon a town of limited al space and constant atmosphere. Sets by also by Tcherniakov would conjure up the model sets to a British viewer Trumpton, moments are highly cinematic a la Ari Aster’s Hereditary. The celebratory scene in the conservatory dining room is vivid, and a snapshot of how this story might have gone down today.
Directors attempt to changes accepts of an opera now. Whilst there are risks here, they work for the most part. The cascading overture features a woman and her child shunned for her fling with a worker, ending with her hanging herself on stage. This was all in the first ten minutes. The ending would drastically tweak things, though it’s clear the curse has been lifted, even with only one half of the tragic duo of Senta and The Dutchman getting a shock death. There isn’t a clear Nordic setting in this outing, some costume choices would evoke the contemporary scene, and the workers don’t appear to have any specific profession.
The singers and musicians are on vividly top form. World class even. Conductor Oksana Lyniv is a rare lady conductor and listening in the pit (which is famously blocked from the audience’s sight) the storm and intrigue, jealousy and redemption all shone through. The chorus are also exceptional, their reputation also unbounded. With the gaggle of sewing women (here they are instead having a singing lesson), male workers with little to do, or the ghostly Dutchman’s crew, they adapt into these roles too easily.
Captain Deland is a near to perfect Mika Kares, a bass-baritone has been excelling with his Hagen at Bayreuth. He can make things softer, the gloss of the voice often rings. Senta is Elisabeth Teige, with parker coat and coloured highlights it’s an extremely stroppy take. Her gutsy aria is earthy; her range is considerable and not without colour. Eric, the eye rolling ex-lover of Senta is Benjamin Bruns. This helden-tendor role is intense for its brevity, the constant bickering with Senta make him very one sided. Bruns takes on the role with a breeze and flow.
Mary the mistress in sewing expertise is given more of a role than just one scene she appears. Nadine Weissmann’s mezzo is friendly, if not always digestible. Her silence in the dinner scene (she is cleverly in a relationship with Deland) speaks volumes and her actions in the finale are what made this new take kin the part quite devastating.
Kieran’s Carrel is the sleepy Steersman who in the opening act loiters around a bar with other “sailors”. Some raising vocals make this small part often cherished. The third act would see Carrel encouraged frippery conga lines (WNO also did similar) and staggered off perhaps to drink some more. Carrel is controlled in the role one that opens the first and third act.
Nicholas Brownlee is The Dutchman. I was unsure at times if he worked int the role. The audience thought so and I came round topped the idea. In stature and expression of voice, he is the man, demanding drama in phrasing and more tender moments for smoother appeal. I was taken with the response tonight; the audience loved it. That’s what I really wanted to hear. Now to Rienzi & Parsifal!
What do you get when you combine classical music with comedy – Now That’s What I Call Bach! With Tasmin Sarkany.
There’s first to say: you don’t need to know about Bach or really classical music to enjoy this routine. Sarkany presents us a narrative as Amelia Crotchet, a Bach enthusiast and also one in a deep love with her partner, Violin. Today is a very important concert and, if she can stop getting distracted, she will play for us.
What is really lovely is this narrative – instead of presenting herself as a comedian, Sarkany has developed a well thought out plot with characters and storyline and therefore giving the ability to throw in different comedic scenarios throughout which all add to the trajectory of the story. In this short hour, we get to know Amelia, why this concert is so important, her love story with Violin and all about Bach. We feel we know this character well by the end and the concept works seamlessly.
While occasionally slightly left field, the narrative has little plot points which seem random but fully add to the story. You may at first think: what does this have to do with this big concert but it’s all to do with getting to know her and allowing a space for her comedy. I’m not usually a fan of one-liner jokes or puns, I prefer something meatier but somehow Sarkany makes me change my mind on this, by combining both. The puns are genuinely humorous and tickle you, with the occasional slight “dad joke” groan but it all works together so well. She pokes fun at the arts or uses stereotypes of concerts or the Opera to add the essence of a concert; think throwing flowers on stage, asking an audience member to shout bravo and this contributes to the illusion of the narrative but gives the audience something to relate to.
Sarkany’s musical ability is also fantastic. When there are moments of music, it is clearly from a very clever musician and adds these little highlights. But she also manages to create great comedy with sound – adding to the puns or reoccuring comedy references, sometimes there’s some notes played or with a clever musical technique and this is again, not only musically skilled but highly intelligent comedy.
The only thing that brought the stars down for me is that Sarkany seemed very nervous. Of course, this is completely understandable and I can only apologise; Sarkany invited me and referenced me in the audience and I hope it wasn’t my attendance that gave her nerves! But the nervousness thread a little through the performance and I desperately wanted her to be confident in her ability and her show because it is smart, funny and engaging.
Now That’s What I Call Bach! Is a funny take on the arts, music, with witty comedy, supported with a brilliant musical ability. I just wanted Sarkany to believe more in herself and her show and for this to take away the nerves that slightly impacted her performance.
It’s nothing new to combine classical music with acrobatics. In recent years, the Southbank Centre have embarked on combined multi-disciplinary acts together, often with classical or orchestral music with another art form. The blend of these goes well together and very complimentary art forms.
But what if I told you that the acrobatic performers were also the musicians? I hope the news of this blows your mind as much as it blew mine to see. Tale of the Firebird takes on the fairy-tale story of the Phoenix, delivering this through music and physical theatre alone. The greatest achievement in this is the ability to play the instruments perfectly through mid-contortion or being propelled into the air. The music and performance already does well to bring the story to life, making it easy to follow and understand, even if you’re not aware of the tale.
The awe inspiring performance nicely builds throughout… we start with the performers playing music but soon, the odd trick in thrown in, separate to the instruments until they combine these, then fire, then even more intricate techniques. This gentle crescendo warms us up – they don’t try anything complicated or fancy with this but the simple build is enough to shock us and be open-mouthed at their incredible abilities.
While there is a protagonist and a villain who occupy the narrative, all the performers have their moment in the light and are all as clearly talented as one another. This isn’t just a commentary on their circus skills but the fact not a single note was out of place, while upside down, mid-air, whatever it may be, was just amazing to watch. What was even more incredible was a mini-harp – I never knew this existed! With plenty of children in the audience, the audible noises of excitement and awe was only vocalising what we were all thinking.
Tale of the Firebird is unlike anything I have seen before – the existence of performers with the ability to not only perform music but to also perform body-defying tricks at the same time is so unique and so impressive to see – it has to be seen to be believed.
There are some concerts where you leave talking about a particular solo or favourite piece. Then there are concerts that make you rethink what an orchestras purpose can be. The National Open Youth Orchestra’s concert with the BBC National Orchestra of Wales at the Wales Millennium Centre was very much the latter.
NOYO is the world’s first disabled-led national youth orchestra, bringing together talented disabled and non-disabled young musicians from across the UK. For Cardiff, this orchestra has a special connection. The city is home to one of NOYO’s regional ensembles, based at the Royal Welsh College of Music & Drama. Young musicians rehearse there throughout the year, building their confidence and musical skills before progressing to national performances like this one.
Since its launch in 2018, the National Open Youth Orchestra and its partners have successfully established a programme for young disabled musicians to develop their skills at an advanced level, offering accessible ensemble practice and performance opportunities in five regions. Alongside young musicians, the orchestra has pushed the boundaries of contemporary classical music, inspiring composers with a new range of instrument sounds and showing it could help widen audiences for contemporary classical music through relaxed performances. All National Open Youth Orchestra musicians have come through the ranks of five regional NOYO Ensembles, which are delivered through major partnerships in London, Bournemouth, Bristol, Birmingham and Cardiff.
The concert celebrated what an orchestra can become when accessibility is treated as part of the creative process rather than something added afterwards. Alongside violins, brass and percussion were electronic instruments such as the Clarion, played on an iPad. Rather than feeling unusual, they blended naturally into the orchestra’s sound, creating colours and textures that felt completely at home.
It’s easy to forget just how much work goes into a performance like this. Speaking about the tour, Cardiff NOYO member Josh Phelps, explained that preparation had started months before the concert.
“Since September, we have done three in-person rehearsals in Bristol, Birmingham and London. We spent four days together on a residential course over Easter as well as several online sessions.”
Asked what had stood out most, his answer was refreshingly simple.
“I’ve most enjoyed performing in prestigious venues, giving the premiere of The Orchestra: A Young Person’s Guide and seeing audiences enjoying our concerts.”
That enjoyment was obvious in Cardiff. There was a warmth between the players that couldn’t be rehearsed. Smiles were exchanged after solos, musicians encouraged one another throughout the performance and there was a genuine feeling that everyone on stage wanted each other to succeed. It created an atmosphere that was impossible not to respond to as an audience member.
The concert also highlighted another side of NOYO that often goes unseen. Daisy Evans, a graduate of the Royal Welsh College of Music & Drama, supports delivery of the Cardiff NOYO sessions and spoke about how working with the orchestra has shaped her own career.
Daisy explained that before joining NOYO she had worked in inclusive music-making and instrumental teaching, but the orchestra had allowed her to develop those skills in a professional orchestral environment. She has arranged music to suit different learning styles, conducted everything from classical repertoire to film music and improvisation, and worked one-to-one with musicians to ensure they can take part in rehearsals in ways that work best for them.
During this tour Daisy supported a musician performing on the Clarion, helping with setting up the instrument, following colour-coded notation during rehearsals and providing support during the performance itself. Sometimes that support was practical. Sometimes, she said, it was simply offering a reassuring smile after a solo.
After the Cardiff performance she asked some of the musicians how they had felt. One admitted to being nervous before walking on stage, but said those nerves disappeared once the music started.
For Daisy, that’s what makes live performance so important.
She believes making music together creates opportunities for young people to build friendships, express themselves and communicate in ways that don’t always rely on words. For many musicians, those shared experiences can be just as valuable as the performance itself.
That sense of belonging ran through the whole evening. The partnership with the BBC National Orchestra of Wales never felt like experienced professionals leading from the front. Instead, it felt like musicians sharing a stage, learning from one another and celebrating what could be achieved together.
Too often conversations around accessibility focus on what people can’t do. NOYO quietly turns that conversation around. It simply presents brilliant young musicians making ambitious music at the highest level, with the support and technology that allow everyone to contribute fully.
The centrepiece of the evening was The Orchestra: A Young Person’s Guide by Charlotte Harding, arranged by Liam Taylor-West, read by Niamh Moriarty .Inspired by Britten’s famous guide to the orchestra, this felt like a work written for today’s generation. Every section had its moment, but more importantly every musician seemed to have a place within the story the music was telling.
Thanks to NOYO for giving us permission to reproduce this below, a wonderful illustration of the power of culture and access working hand in hand.
The Orchestra: A Young Person’s Guide, Charlotte Harding, arr. Liam Taylor-West
I – Particles
It moves the energy in the air, Particles, frequencies, vibes, sync into our skin, our bones, our hearts, our souls, Waves of potential – traditional, experimental – Enliven our senses through notes and tones, That are heard, performed, composed, evolved by this unique sonic formula … This is our orchestra.
II – Individuals
So this orchestra, it’s the sum of its parts, Vibrations start with individual, Bows, breaths, valves, keys pressed, Strings, sticks, the flick of a switch, And in this orchestra, everyone fits.
III – Sections
From individuals to aural connections, When instruments come together, they unify into sections, Winds, brass, percussion, electronics, strings, keys, Melodic, homophonic, bass lines, voices, textures, beats, There’s strength in numbers; we’re players in a team …
IV – Palettes
From individuals, to sections, to an orchestral palette …
… of kaleidoscopic colours that can paint and inhabit, Realities, dreams, stories on a screen, variations on a theme; blue, red, yellow, green, A portal to worlds of imagination, or a personal key for emotional articulation …
V – Tutti
This orchestra echoes the past, sounds in the present, It’s creating a future sonically incandescent, It’s a symphonic celebration of all that we are, An open invitation to all play our part, A universal language of joy and endeavour, That moves us most when we are tutti, together.
NOYO play Bristol Beaon as part of this tour and the performance will be available to listen to from BCC Radio 3 here
Creating opportunities for a diverse range of people to experience and respond to sport, arts, culture and live events. / Lleisiau amrywiol o Gymru yn ymateb i'r celfyddydau a digwyddiadau byw
(4 / 5)
(3 / 5)
