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| Joanna MacGregor conducting the Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra © Fernando Manoso |
William Kentridge (director)
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| Oh To Believe in Another World - film by William Kentridge |
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| Joanna MacGregor conducting the Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra © Fernando Manoso |
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| Oh To Believe in Another World - film by William Kentridge |
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| Guy Johnston © Frances Marshall |
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| Aaron Azunda Akugbo, Joanna MacGregor & the Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra © Frances Marshall |
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| Aaron Azunda Akugbo & Joanna MacGregor © Frances Marshall |
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| Joanna MacGregor & the Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra © Nick Boston |
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| Joanna MacGregor & the Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra © Sarah-Lousie Burns |

Alise Siliņa, Joanna MacGregor
& the Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra
© Sarah-Louise Burns
‘A Fairytale Christmas’, a programme of orchestral music for Christmas from the Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra – can you guess what might have been on the programme? Well, true to Music Director Joanna MacGregor’s imaginative programming form, apart from Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker Suite, it’s unlikely that anyone would have guessed, or possibly even have recognised the other three works on offer today. If it was designed to bring in more families and children to the audience, then that certainly worked, as there were noticeably more youngsters and even toddlers in the Dome concert hall. Having said that, I’m not sure the programme was quite attractive enough to maintain young attention spans, beyond the interest of the accordion and The Nutcracker Suite at the end.
Delius’ unfamiliar tone poem Eventyr, or Once Upon a Time, opened the programme. Composed in 1917, it’s fair to say it’s not secured a footing in the repertoire, so it was great that the BPO gave it an airing, with support from the Delius Trust. Eventyr actually means Adventure, and the inspiration here was Norwegian folk tales – whilst a possible Christmas meal to tempt the trolls and hobgoblins is mentioned in Delius’ description, the Yuletide connection is limited, with the focus more on the mysterious creatures who need to be won over by hunters to ensure good luck. The music is suitably atmospheric, with a watery harp, tinkling celesta, glockenspiel and xylophone all providing delicate colour, and the BPO gave us a relatively committed performance, although Delius’ subtle orchestration was perhaps not enough to captivate the younger members of the audience, and noises off meant a few pickups from the orchestra were consequently a little distracted and tentative. It would be good to hear the work performed again on a less festive programme to fully appreciate its atmospheric colour.
This was followed by Fairy Tales: A Concerto for Accordion, by the Czech composer Václav Trojan (1907-1983). Trojan was best known for his many scores for animated films in the 1940s and 50s, and this suite of seven short movements certainly has a filmic, often cartoon-like feel. The star here was the young Latvian accordionist, Alise Siliņa, currently studying for her Master’s at the Royal Academy of Music. The work allowed her to demonstrate the range of the lightly amplified instrument, from lyrical, wistful melodic lines in The Sleepy Princess, to playfulness in The Magic Box, and virtuosic display in The Naughty Roundabout. This movement and the next, The Sailor and the Enchanted Accordion, had pleasantly swaying waltz rhythms, with the latter more dreamily bluesy in places. The finale, The Acrobatic Fairy Tale was full of circus tumbling, almost like a cartoon chase, all building to a fun, swirling finish. Siliņa played with character throughout, and was well supported by the orchestra, with some particularly atmospheric cor anglais solos, although the work surprisingly doesn’t foreground the accordion as much as one might expect. Siliņa then treated the audience to a highly engaging solo encore, a touchingly wistful melodic line following a darkly lilting opening, and here we could really hear her command of the instrument.
Ukranian-born Thomas de Hartmann (1885-1956) is better known to me for his connection to his spiritual teacher, George Gurdjieff, many of whose works de Hartmann transcribed for piano, forming some four volumes of sacred inspired hymns and rituals. Influenced by Gurdjieff’s mystic ‘Fourth Way’ spirituality, de Hartmann and his wife were closely entwined with Gurdjieff and other follows for many years, and this music has a meditative, ethereal quality. The work on today’s programme, Koliadky: Noëls Ukraniens, Op. 60, is much more closely linked to Ukranian folk culture, although de Hartmann stressed that he was influenced by folk tunes, rather than drawing directly on traditional melodies. Having been performed in 1946, it is thought that today’s performance may have been its second ever in the UK. The opening Chant spirituel began with a cello solo, who was then joined by the strings for a haunting hymn, its Ukranian roots also sounding reminiscent of Vaughan Williams’ modal harmonies. Next, a bouncy quartet for cor anglais, clarinets and bassoon, Viens, Koladá, viens, followed by a dark, slow dance from horns, oboes and bassoons to herald Les rois mages (The Three Wise Men). This is a fascinating work, with such short glimpses of colour from de Hartmann that you are definitely left wanting more, from Górecki/Pärt tinged moments for low strings against violins, to thick brass and ringing bells, and a lively dance, Goussak (Gander Dance) as a brief finale. Thanks to Joanna MacGregor for bringing it to our attention, and to the BPO for presenting it so convincingly.

Joanna MacGregor & the BPO
© Nick Boston
And so to the popular Christmas highlight, Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker Suite. Unfortunately the attention spans of some of the children in the audience had long since waned, so sadly some had now left before the piece on the programme that would have surely most grabbed their attention. But those that remained clearly enjoyed the lively and familiar tunes, with some particularly spirited conducting from one young girl in the front row of the circle during the Waltz of the Flowers. The BPO delivered it all with enthusiasm, although ensemble was occasionally a little shaky, with MacGregor not quite martialling the accelerando in the Chinese Dance, and some untidy rapid scales in the Dance of the Mirlitons. A few intonation issues in the outer first violins in the Miniature Overture, and some rather rustic brass in the March all pointed towards perhaps more rehearsal time being dedicated, understandably, to the three unfamiliar works on the programme. This left the Tchaikovsky to rely on familiarity, which was a pity. That being said, it was a joyful enough performance, and a hit with the audience to end the afternoon.
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| Elena Urioste © Chris Gloag |
For their latest programme, ‘The Romantics’, the Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra presented two highly contrasting works, with Mahler’s mighty Symphony No. 5 following the lighter offering of Samuel Coleridge-Taylor’s Violin Concerto in G minor, Op. 80. Ben Gernon was originally scheduled to conduct the concert but was replaced by Alice Farnham, whose combination of precise direction and energy made for a highly engaging afternoon’s programme. Of course it shouldn’t be worthy of note, but it’s great to see an all-female roster (for the second time this season) of conductor, soloist (Elena Urioste) and leader (Ruth Rogers) – with Music Director Joanna MacGregor the overall driving force.
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| Elena Urioste © Nick Boston |
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| Alice Farnham & the Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra © Nick Boston |
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| Joanna MacGregor |
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| Junyan Chen & the Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra © Nick Boston |
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| Joanna MacGregor & the Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra © Nick Boston |
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| Steve Reich |
I’ve been following most of Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra’s 100th season, enjoying their ever more adventurous and interesting programming, and their latest offering, a concert centring on the music of Steve Reich (b.1936) saw them reach new heights of excellence. With conductor and percussionist Colin Currie at the helm, chamber-sized BPO forces tackled some highly challenging repertoire, and the percussion section in particular, who have already shown themselves to be a key part of the BPO’s development over the last few years, rose to the occasion.
So to begin with, Currie joined the four percussionists for Reich’s popular and mesmerising Music for Pieces of Wood, and this 9 minute piece, consisting of five players with tuned claves (pairs of wooden sticks), knocking out constantly crossing and phasing rhythms. There’s a pattern that began with just two players (Donna-Maria Landowksi & Meadow Brooks) setting the base rhythms – and they need particular commendation for the stamina of maintaining this throughout the whole piece. They were joined by Currie, then Cameron Gorman, and finally Chris Brannick, building up the complex, hypnotic rhythms. The pattern is repeated three times, so going back to two players, and building up again, before the whole thing comes to an abrupt stop. The almost full Dome audience was completely drawn into their tight and intense performance, making for a great start to the evening.
From centre stage, attention then shifted to the far right, and an array of bells, brake drums, sistra, gongs, tam-tams and even a thunder sheet, to which the four BPO percussionists moved to perform Double Music by Lou Harrison (1917-2003) and John Cage (1912-1992). With the brake drums laid out in an array on the floor, and other instruments circling them, the four players crouched down and drew us into the gamelan-inspired soundworld, beginning with a ringing from a Tibetan bowl, and building to a resonant mix of sounds, the metallic tuned brake drums against the rattling sistra and rumbling tam-tams and gongs. One couldn’t always tell exactly what was producing which sounds – there was some use of the sides of the gongs or tam-tams to produce yet more different timbres. Harrison & Cage composed two of the four sections each independently, but the result creates a unified soundworld, ending with the instruments’ long final resonance hanging in the air.
| Colin Currie |
The percussionists returned for Yoko Ono’s (b.1933) Pieces for Orchestra, joined by MacGregor on the piano. Her playing involved lots of plucking and scraping inside the piano, with some watery work on the keyboard later on. The percussionists began unwinding rolls of tape, then moved from instruments to tapping and beating the floor, the speakers, seemingly anything on the stage. There was bowing and scraping on the sides of glockenspiels or vibraphones and elsewhere, and the players moved around their area of the stage slowly. The overall soundscape was surprisingly effective, although once the percussionists had then slowly exited, with Joanna MacGregor left shuffling a deck of cards, it wasn’t entirely clear what it amounted to in the end.
There was a little stage resetting before the final piece of the first half – Steve Reich’s Runner. The musical forces were set out symmetrically, with a string quartet, a wind trio, a piano and a vibraphone all doubled, all joined by a single double bass. Currie was back to conduct, and from the start, rich, rhythmic textures quickly built up, with rocking pianos joined by strings then woodwind and the percussion, the antiphonal effect of the two ‘choirs’ being used to great effect. The rhythmic energy swirled as the rhythms phased, coming together and pulling apart in waves. Currie kept a tight rein on proceedings, and ensemble was tight for the sudden big tutti accented chords. Only once did it feel the rhythms were in danger of falling out of line, but more big chords reestablished the sense of control, and Currie kept the energy at a high level throughout, bringing the evening’s first half to a strong conclusion.
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| Colin Currie and members of the Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra © Nick Boston |
And then to the most substantial work of the evening, Reich’s collaboration with artist Gerhard Richter and director Corinna Belz, Moving Picture (936-3). Reich’s music accompanies Richter’s abstract film, which starts with rippling parallel coloured lines filling the screen. Gradually, bands emerge and then open and expand, creating increasingly complex images in a kaleidoscope fashion, and by the central section, the effect is rather like a Rorschach test, as one can start to see faces, dancers, pagodas, dragons, angels, etc – perhaps best not to overanalyse here in case I reveal too much about myself… The process is then reversed, ultimately returning to the single rippling lines which opened proceedings. Reich’s music takes a similar trajectory, starting out by doubling the rhythmic patterns as the lines on the screen increase in complexity. Over the work’s forty minutes, however, the structure of the music is somewhat overshadowed by the hypnotic nature of the visuals, relegating the music to more of an accompaniment role, perhaps, but Currie shaped the progress of the score, with variation in dynamics and emphasis of strident clashes and suspensions as the piece reached its climax. Whilst musically not as exciting as Runner, the overall effect of the music and film was nonetheless highly effective, and the whole performance brought the evening to a suitably impressive end.
Once again, Joanna MacGregor and all involved deserve to be congratulated for pushing expectations of what Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra has to offer to a new level. With just Messaien’s mighty Turangilîla Symphony to go to conclude their 100th season (details here), it will be exciting to see where MacGregor takes them into their next century.
It was great to see the Brighton Dome all but sold out for the latest concert in the Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra’s already successful season. The two-pronged attractions of the superstar percussionist Dame Evelyn Glennie, and the ever-popular crowd-pleaser, Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade proved a winning combination. And they even threw in a bagpipe soloist for good measure. It was particularly gratifying to see a good number of children in the audience too – one young lad near me, only maybe four or five, was jigging along and enjoying the rhythms of both pieces in the first half, clearly excited by the dazzling array of percussion instruments on stage.
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| Geoffrey Paterson with the Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra |
James MacMillan’s Veni, Veni, Emmanuel was premiered by Evelyn Glennie at the Proms back in 1992. It is a substantial, single movement work, and as soon as you see the array of percussion instruments spread across the whole of the front of the stage, you know you are in for a virtuosic and visually exciting display. Right from the opening thundering crash on the tam-tam, Glennie never held back, after a brief spell on the vibraphone, marching purposefully across to the other side for drums, followed by an extensive woodblock and gong solo. With marimba to come, and tubular bells to end, the piece certainly provided Glennie with the opportunity to demonstrate her absolute command and authority on such a diverse range of instruments. The work itself draws on the plainsong advent tune (O Come, O Come Emmanuel), and moves from Advent at the opening through to Easter at the conclusion. Having said that, you might be hard placed to spot the underlying plainsong melody, as it is broken into fragments, only really appearing towards the very end of the work. With Glennie charging about from instrument to instrument, Paterson steered the orchestra through their contribution with clarity and command, with particularly tight rhythms in the hocketing dance section, also maintaining the orchestral lilt when Glennie’s marimba stabbed at rhythmic cross-purposes. The final section, when the orchestral musicians put their instruments down and take up delicately tinkling bells and chimes whilst Glennie headed up to the tubular bells at the back of the stage was highly effective, and rather magical, as the intensity built to the final bells. The final ringing was then held for what seemed like an age, before Glennie damped the bells slowly one by one, and Paterson finally lowered his outstretched arms, the audience remaining silent in reverence.
After all that high drama and busy action in the first half, Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherezade provided a somewhat soothing sense of calm. Despite having its own dramatic story to tell, with tales of Sinbad’s voyages and love between a young prince and princess, all told by Scheherezade to distract her husband for a thousand and one nights, we too become beguiled by Rimsky-Korsakov’s sumptuous orchestration. Perhaps it’s those familiar melodies, oft repeated throughout its four movements, and its lyrical solos, not least the major violin solo part, that create a more settled soundworld than the more stridently assertive Maxwell Davies & MacMillan works we heard in the first half. Paterson shaped the sea surges in the strings in the opening movement, and the BPO players produced a rich tutti sound. The work gives prominent multiple solos to the prinicipals of most orchestral sections, and these were delivered with warmth and accuracy, with only the occasional imperfections. But of course the major solo part falls to the violinist, and again, Ruth Rogers excelled here. Her lyrical tone, as well as her virtuosic multiple string stopping were exemplary, and her control of the harmonics at the close of the final movement was highly impressive. Peace and calm were duly restored at the end of the tale, bringing to a close yet another varied and imaginative programme from the BPO.
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| Robert Jordan with Geoffrey Paterson & the Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra © Nick Boston |
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| Evelyn Glennie with Geoffrey Paterson & the Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra © Nick Boston |