A tale of three Proms...and one amazing house

A new season approaches so it's time to dust off the blog and let you in on a few things that have been happening in the world of Nottingham Classics.

Last week I took the chance to get down to London to hear some of the BBC Proms. The thought of making several separate trips down and enduring the late train back (and by 2.00am it does start to feel like the slowest train in history) was enough to prompt me to do three in a row and stay in London for a couple of days. It's not as expensive as you might think. Over the last couple of years my wife Deb and I have discovered the joys of LSE accomodation. It has a half dozen colleges dotted around central London and they're often staggering value - my last two nights, about three minutes walk from Sadlers Wells - cost me £32 each, including very big breakfast, part of which got recycled into lunch. It's not the Ritz, but it's not bad either - maybe one to consider next time you're doing a cultural overnighter in the big city.

And the fringe benefit of staying a couple of nights was having the time to experience a few of London's special places. Before I went, you may remember me asking for a few suggestions from the Nottingham Classics audience - which proved to be really rewarding. Of the places suggested I made it to two characterful pubs - the George Inn in Southwark (a 17th century courtyard inn owned by the National Trust - thanks to Anna Lloyd for the recommendation) and the Princess Louise in Holborn (an opulent Victorian drinkery) - a sophisticated Italian 'tapas' restaurant, Polpo, in Soho (thanks to Peter Speakman for both of these), and a really astonishing museum. I'd never been to the Sir John Soames Museum, in Lincoln Fields, just off Holborn, but the fact that four of you suggested it meant that it went to the top of the list. And what an amazing place it is! - a monument to a great architect's passion for antiquities with every room crammed with great paintings, exquisite architectural models and huge chunks of Greek and Roman temples, sometimes suspended in improbable places. Here's a snapshot to give you a flavour.

Poor Sir John ended his days a rather bitter man, alienated from his sons and something of a recluse but he certainly left a wonderful legacy behind. The picture room, containing treasures such as paintings by Canaletto and Hogarth is a real eye-opener, not least because the room itself has massive panels which actually function as extra walls for hanging even more great paintings. It was one of the highlights of the last couple of years for me so thanks to Peter Speakman, Kath Jones, Pauline Hillyard and Dorothy Kurpanik for the recommendation.

As for the Proms themselves, I really couldn't have done much better. I did the Pittsburgh Symphony on 6th September, BBC Symphony on 7th and Philadelphia on 8th, with a late nighter by the BBC big band on 7th. They all had something special to enjoy, whether in Anne-Sophie Mutter's stratospheric lines in Wolfgang Rihm's Gesungene Zeit or the Pittsburgh Symphony's flawless horn section in Mahler's 5th. Even Sir Harrison Birtwistle seems to have taken on the status of 'grand old man of music' these days, judging by the ovation after his angular Violin Concerto. Charles Dutoit's peerless stick technique really impressed me in the Rachmaninov Symphonic Dances and there was real sheen to the legendary Philadelphia strings. Perhaps the only disappointment was David Robertson's rather earthbound The Planets but that was followed by the BBC Big Band's tribute to Stan Kenton, whose often-derided progressive jazz was fiercely exciting, harmonically rich and played for all it was worth by a crack ensemble. Claire Martin's effortless vocals added some real class to a really enjoyable event. Band leader Jiggs Whigham certainly approved of the red dress!

After four concerts and two days of almost non-stop walking around the city I was ready for a return to the office chair, but, as ever, it was a great privilege to hear some of the world's great orchestras in some heavyweight repertoire. Inspiring, too - it certainly got me in the mood for thinking about the shape of next season.

Which is a big one, of course. 2012-2013 is the 10th anniversary of the Halle's residency in Nottingham, a very important moment in the history of Nottingham Classics and the point at which things really began to look up for the series. The times we're in and the squeeze on our finances will mean we'll have to be imaginative but we'll definitely be celebrating the anniversary throughout the season. I've got almost half of the concerts booked in now and it's looking really exciting so far, but there's still a long way to go. And not forgetting that we start the 2011-2012 season in a fortnight with the Halle and the wonderful German cellist, Alban Gerhardt. Alban is not only a very exciting performer but he's also a really engaging commentator on music and on the ups and downs of being a soloist. His blog is always worth reading - you can sign up at http://www.albangerhardt.com/ and you can hear his thoughts on Dvorak's Cello Concerto which he thinks may be the best concerto ever written in a video on YouTube - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kkjEbF0ulOw - highly recommended, not just for his insights into the piece, but also for some demonstrations of his prowess as a performer.

That's it for now. More to follow in a fortnight.

Neil

Monday mayhem - it must be the end of the holiday

This year I and my wife Deb took the unusual step of taking a week off immediately after new year. We didn't go anywhere (unless you count a day away at Clumber Park Hotel Spa as a short term break) and chose to spend a few days at home recharging the batteries before plunging into our respectively busiest periods of 2011. As usual we somehow found a way to add some toil to the break and spent a few days on the next D-I-Y project (an endeavour always tinged with tension for us) but overall it was a pretty relaxing time. Just enough, in fact, to go back to work with a renewed sense of purpose.

And it's just as well, as the first day back has proven to be as frenetic as anything I can remember. That maybe something to do with having (in a moment of unguarded enthusiasm last season) piling up new projects in the early Spring, including some that are going to take up a helluva lot of time. The main one that's pre-occupying me as I type is the BBC Philharmonic's family concert on 3 April - not just because we've not run a large scale family event before as part of Nottingham Classics during the time I've been working on the series, but also because we've added some whistles and bells in the form of the Nottinghamshire and Nottingham City Family Orchestra. The model is a proven one - the BBC Philharmonic created the Salford Family Orchestra a year and a bit ago as a means of engaging more deeply with its local community and of providing an inspiring opportunity for its participants to perform in a big public concert (The BBC Proms in fact). And the response was really wholehearted from those who took part. We're hoping to do the same in Nottinghamshire and most things are now in place - our first applications for places came in at the end of last week. But even after several hours organising it there's still seemingly a mountain of things to do. I had intended, arriving back in the office to make some real headway today but I should have known better. With next season still taking shape, our first concerts this weekend and the end of next week, and numerous bits of admin to sort out, the window of opportunity quickly turned into a porthole and many things are now on the to-do list for tomorrow.

Oh well, at least I did stick to one of my New Year's resolutions and used my lunch hour to pick up my shiny new bass trombone and get to work on remembering how to play it. I'm going to be joining the University Philharmonia in a performance of Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique in February and I really need to put in some hard yards to get some semblance of tone and technique back. I guess it's a bit like rejoining a gym after several months spent avoiding it - your know what you're meant to be able to do but your body just won't play ball. Nevertheless I figured that 30 minutes to an hour of hard graft through scales, legato exercises, and lip flexibilities would be manageable even within the non-stop environment of the Royal Concert Hall.

Well...just! By the time I'd worked my way through the emails, meetings, phone calls and proofing it was 4 o'clock - a late lunch by anyone's standards. Nevertheless I did manage 20 minutes' practice and used the time to try out the sample orchestral chair which we're considering to replace the long-serving and, frankly, exhausted chairs that have been here since 1982. And, I'm pleased to say, it was really excellent - plenty of support, the right shape and a serious looking chair to boot. Let's hope the orchestras like them too.

So, the first day back was as relentless as expected, probably more so, but inch by inch the pieces are falling into place. The next big thing is turning the draft 2011-2012 programme into a fully-fledged season. And there are four Sunday morning piano series concerts to add in too - apart from one date in the diary I haven't done anything with these yet. I have a feeling that there will be a few more late lunches this Spring.

Cometh the hour, cometh Cordelia...and Natalie

Cordelia Williams launching our new Sunday Morning Piano Series on 31 October



Another day at the office closes so whilst I wait to go and see Habit of Art next door I thought I'd use the time productively and post another entry. One thing that strikes me about this season - by adding what seems like just a few concerts it's made things feel a whole lot busier. On Sunday we were watching Cordelia Williams launch our Sunday Morning Piano Series and then, two days later, Natalie Clein was giving her first performance of Barber's cello concerto with sinfonia ViVA. And next Monday Lars Vogt is with us for our first evening recital.

Not that I'm complaining. I'm sure that if you were there to hear Cordelia's performance you'll have felt as privileged as I was to hear pianism of that quality and enjoy her assured and engaging introductions to the pieces. I have to thank Kevin Appleby from Turner Sims concert hall for this because, whilst I was looking for some rising stars to perform in the Sunday Series, he gave me the tip-off that Cordelia was a brilliant talent and also a persuasive advocate for the piano. And right from the start she was really great to work with and brought bags of positive energy to the project. She's now working on a project called Cafe Muse in London, where she's taking the classical piano into cafes and bars in search of new audiences. To find out more visit http://www.cordeliawilliams.net/. I'm sure that London's cafe culture is in for a treat. I'm still savouring the memory of Gaspard de la Nuit, a big favourite of mine and one of those pieces that seems to require an extra brain to perform (the photo above is my rather poor effort to capture it on camera). The same could be said of Jenny Lin's late nighter on 7 October - another astonishing performance.

Last night's performance by sinfonia ViVA gave us more evidence of how less can be more. A smaller orchestra than our usual bands performed to a smaller audience (still over 1000, but I always find it difficult to take comfort in that) but for me it was one of the most rewarding concerts I've heard at the Royal Concert Hall. For one thing, the programme - a rich mix of diverse twentieth century masterpieces - really played to ViVA's strengths. The impact of Andre de Ridder in inspiring the kind of incisive and committed performance we heard last night has been deep and far-reaching. The dialogue with Natalie in Barber's concerto was as gripping as an episiode of Mad Men with inspiration flowing in both directions. And it was fantastic to see so many people stay on for the After:Hours performance. Those who did will certainly have had their money's worth from Natalie, whose Bach Cello Suite No.2 was wonderfully articulated throughout. It's great to see an artist so immersed in a performance and able to connect so stringly with the audience. Speaking to her afterwards she remarked once again on how warm the audience is here. And she's right, of course.

One last thing - I'm delighted to be getting a few comments now on how good the Steinway is sounding now. It's taken a little while to settle down but, following a day of fine-tuning from Ulrich Gerhartz, Steinway's Director of Concert and Artists Services (a really nice chap by the way) it is now in fine form. Which is just as well because Lars Vogt will be working his magic on it this Monday.

I've got 20 spare minutes now - better get the next press release written! Bye for now.

Neil

Let them eat cake - and enjoy a piano recital

Last Wednesday was one of those days in the office where the staff come together in an impressive show of unity, taking valuable time away from their busy schedules to work towards the common good of the venue.

Having said that, the task in hand wasn't one of the more arduous ones. On this occasion we all came together in the Level 2 foyer to eat cake. That's Lucy, our Press Officer, leading the way on the left.

And the reason for this unusual treat? Simply that on 31 October we're hosting our first Sunday Morning Piano Concert and one of the vital parts of the package is the cake that gets served with the tea and coffee after the event. Some sampling was therefore essential.

And what were we looking for? Firstly, the cake needed to have a home-made feel. Concert-goers would rightly feel a bit let down if they were served with something that came cellophane-wrapped (even if they were exceedingly good). Our feeling was that something homemade, not unlike the tempting treats on offer when the WI have their annual conference here, would be right for the occasion.

The cake also needed to be practical. Given that we might be serving 500 people or more, and that there wouldn't be room for everyone to sit down with a separate plate and fork, it needed to have a certain amount of internal strength to be picked up with fingers and to rest, when halved, on a saucer next to the cup.

Very gooey cakes were, reluctantly, ruled out. But moist, flavoursome, loaf-style cakes were definitely in and I have to say that Stuart, our new catering manager, really delivered for us. Believe it or not, he managed to find a solicitor who, as a side line, ran a business making home made cakes. And very good they were, too - we've chosen three types for the opening concert on 31 October and we hope that, if you're going to hear Cordelia Williams on 31 October, then you'll enjoy them as much as we did.

And on that subject, within the next month we'll have heard our first two solo piano concerts, with none other than Lars Vogt performing on Monday 8 November. Launching a new series like this is always a nerve-wracking business. Will our hunch that there's an audience for a programme like this be correct? Will the pianist like the venue...and the piano? Lots to ponder and we'll know more by the end of this year. But at least we know that when you have your cake on 31 October you'll definitely want to eat it.

Bye for now,

Neil

Just how many do you need for a Symphony of a thousand?

Strangely unsettling picture of the month

Sorry - couldn't resist this. We went to Carcassonne in the south west of France for our hols this summer and, by chance, arrived in the middle of one of the city's many festivals. In addition to many visiting bands there were plenty of local folk groups, many of which included bagpipes. But when I say bagpipes, we're not talking about the tartan-trimmed version used in Scotland, nor the discreet Northumbrian incarnation; no, we're talking about something that leaves little to the imagination regarding the raw materials. When it gets played it looks distinctly odd. It might get you arrested in some countries!

I went to Birmingham this weekend. My wife Deb and I took the opportunity to drop into the Electric Cinema (the UK's oldest, where you can sit on a sofa at the back and have tea and cake whilst you watch) to hear Baba Brinkman's Rap Guide to Evolution (not as mad as it sounds) and to haul ourselves round the Bull Ring in search of autumn clothes.

But the real reason we were there was to hear Mahler's 8th Symphony performed by the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra under their Music Director Andris Nelsons. Those of you who have seen Andris conduct will not be surprised to hear that it was stunning and that the evening had several moments of music that were so overwhelming you had to remember to breathe afterwards.

Whilst we were waiting for the performance to begin I did a quick head count of the performers. The famous 'Symphony of a Thousand' was really about half that number, but that's still a heck of a lot of orchestral players, soloists and choir members and, I had to admit sadly, too many probably for our own hall to accomodate. I wondered about this because in two years time we'll actually be celebrating the 10th anniversary of the Hallé's residency in Nottingham and I'll be beginning discussions with them next week about what should be in the programme. Obviously you'd want Sir Mark Elder (as much as possible) and Markus Stenz, but what pieces of music would do justice not only to the Hallé's achievements here, but also to the close ties between the orchestra, the Royal Concert Hall and the audiences that have taken the Hallé to their hearts.

It looks like Mahler 8 would be out on purely logistic grounds. But what about pieces that show off the Hallé's particular strengths - Elgar, Strauss etc. - or those with whom Sir Mark is closely associated, such as Verdi and Wagner. We might not be able to do Mahler 8 but maybe the Verdi Requiem? If there's going to be a gala event (which I'm sure there will) then what's an appropriately celebratory piece?

So, plenty to mull over during the coming months. In the meantime I'm taking a bigger than usual interest in the ticket sales for the coming season, mainly because I took a bit of a bold step and increased the size of the orchestral season, whilst also adding a piano series. It's possible that the timing could have been better (one look at the newspaper front pages any day of the week will tell you that!) and I'm bracing myself for a long slog up to 27 May next year. Word from other venues is that booking is later this year. Now we have to wait and see if they're just slower...or lower!

Fingers crossed, the positive feedback I've had about next season will translate into big audiences, but you never know in this game. The first time I worked on Nottingham Classics back in 2005 the mighty London Symphony Orchestra had one of the lowest audiences that season whilst in 2009 the Hallé played Nielsen's 5th Symphony to over 2000 people - a concert for which Peter Bolton and I predicted an audience just over half that size. Let's hope that that spirit of adventure continues next year. It'll certainly reduce my stress levels if it does.

Do feel free to send me your suggestions for Hallé 10th anniversary concerts. I can't promise that you'll find them taking pride of place in 2012-2013 but I'd certainly be intersted to hear them.

That's all folks!

Neil

Looking back, looking forward

It feels distinctly odd sitting in my office at the moment. For one thing, it's really quiet. This time last week my head was full of stuff about the last concert - final preparations, big quantities of brochures arriving, last minute tweaks to my pre-concert talk and so on - but now it's back to the more prosaic world of distribution. This week is all about mailing lists, merging and de-duping, vast amounts of photocopying for covering letters, and preparing the ground for several thousand brochures to go out next week.


For that very simple reason, this blog is going to be a short one. But I couldn't let the final concert go without a couple of comments. It's great to finish on such a high note and I trust those who heard it will have enjoyed the Saint-Saens Organ Symphony as much as I did. Though in my case the feeling was mixed with one of relief that our electronic organ had really delivered the kind of awe-inspiring experience that you'd expect of a Romantic titan like the Saint-Saens. The finale was every bit as exciting as I could have hoped but actually it was the calm of the second movement that held the most fascination for me. The deep-breathing sounds of the organ pedals had a wonderfully physical impact and I enjoyed watching several members of the audience in the front left of Tier 1 leaning over to see what Jonathan was doing. As the Widor encore really revealed, he's a fabulous organist and I don't think I've ever heard such a range of expression (including a magical whispered quiet section) in this spectacular favourite. It's really got me thinking about what opportunities there would be to get Jonathan back here soon.

As I say, it was a really great way to end the season and it was also good to see how many people styed to hear the Halle's tango Frambuesas after the concert. All in all it felt like we'd ended the season in just the right way. The feedback I've had is that 2009-2010 has been really successful and it's been hugely encouraging to get the kind of positive comments that we've had throughout the season.

But what were your highlights? I'd really love to know. There are several for me and it's difficult for me to choose. Mahler 2 is an obvious candidate, but what about Nielsen 4 or Rodrigo's Concierto de Aranjuez? Very different pieces, evoking different responses, but all wonderfully played. If you've got a particular memory, why not let me know by posting a response? - it's always fascinating to hear your thoughts on this.

Looking ahead I'd also love to know what you make of 2010-2011. The last season's going to be a difficult act to follow, and getting the blend between the popular and more adventurous elements in the programme continues to be the biggest challenge we face. Have we got it right? And how do you view the new piano series - the biggest development in the programme for several years and, dare I say it, a bit of a calculated risk on our part?

I'm sure that gives you plenty to think about. If you've got a couple of minutes, fire me a quick reply. You can be as brief, expansive and as candid as you like.

Looking forward to hearing your views.

See you in the autumn!


Neil

Nottingham's spirit of adventure

I’ve just recently returned from hearing the London Symphony Orchestra at the Barbican in London. I hadn't seen them in quite a while but the programme in this instance really appealed to me – enough to drag me out of my brochure-numbed state and get myself organized to trek down to London.

I’m very glad I did. After the easygoing opener (Liadov’s The Enchanted Lake – a bit of a take it or leave it piece for me if I’m honest) we got a gripping performance of Rachmaninov’s 4th Piano Concerto from Lief Ove Andsnes. And it got a great reception, too – which is interesting because it’s the concerto that seems not to get programmed as often as the composer’s other three. It certainly got my mind whirring about when we might get it into a future season. So that’s at least tipped you off that, whatever is in next season, Rach 4 isn’t.

Anyway, I digress. The other work in the LSO programme – the main reason I went – was Copland’s 3rd Symphony. In many ways it’s an amalgam of his various styles – the serenity of Appalachian Spring, the energy (and almost the sense of the wild frontier) of his ballets, Rodeo and Billy the Kid, and the gentle dissonance of his more avant garde pieces. If that sounds like a piece that can’t make up its mind then I should say that I found it utterly convincing – and also hugely exciting. I’m a bit biased because, as a brass player, there’s nothing quite like hearing the LSO brass section in full cry (this is the orchestra that put the fire into Luke Skywalker’s light sabre). And it must be said Copland 3 is a real roasting for the brass. Even the esteemed LSO principals couldn’t get through it entirely unscathed. But no occasional split note can detract from the thrilling experience overall.

So what’s this got to do with Nottingham Classics, you might be asking. Well, a couple of things, really. One is that it made me wonder whether this might be a viable item for a future concert at the RCH. The other is that I found it fascinating that where I was sitting there were quite a few empty seats in the second half. The chap sitting next to me told me that he couldn’t follow the Rachmaninov with something else because it would impair the pleasure he’d got from it. I thought this was pretty extraordinary – does hearing a really powerful final work really have that kind of impact on what’s gone before? It would never occur to me, but I do know that it’s not that untypical. I went to hear Strauss’s Ein Heldenleben in Leicester a couple of seasons ago and, again, was surprised to see how many people weren’t there to hear it, having only gone for the Brahms 2nd Piano Concerto that preceded it.

But what this is all leading up to is an observation about audiences in Nottingham. In the 2008-2009 season it would have been very easy for the second half of the Halle’s concert on 30 January (Vaughan Williams’ Tallis Fantasia/Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto/Nielsen Symphony No.5) for there to have been quite an exodus after the first half. And yet, as far as I could see, you all stayed – took a chance, held your nerve, and were rewarded with a fabulous performance – still one of the highlights of my time working on Nottingham Classics.

So, although maybe I’m not always aware of it, there’s something just a bit special about the concert-going community here. Artists regularly comment on it – Northern Sinfonia did so only a couple of weeks ago – and it really does make a difference. And knowing that you’ve got more staying power than the fair concert-goers of London is very encouraging for me!

The last thing that was memorable about Thursday night's concert was, in the interval, being asked, quite genuinely, by a member of the audience, whether I was The Times’ critic Hugh Canning! I’ve actually no idea what he looks like, though I suspect he’s a tad older than me. The other thing that would distinguish us is that it's probably been many years since he heard a concert in Nottingham – his loss!

Bye for now,

Neil