Beginning the new Bridgewater Hall season with a Wagner prelude and a Sibelius symphony (especially No. 5) may not have appeared the most radical, or even attention-grabbing, proposition for the BBC Philharmonic and its chief conductor, John Storgårds.
After all, Sibelius is in his native air and they have played his music often – including a complete symphony cycle some years ago. But this concert had a mystery ingredient to offer: Breathing Forests, described as a concerto for organ and orchestra, written by Gabriella Smith in 2021 and featuring as soloist James McVinnie, who gave its first performance in 2022 with the Los Angeles Philharmonic. It was a novelty for Manchester and for me.
There was a common factor in the three pieces, perhaps a little contrived: nature music. The so-called concerto is, in the composer’s words, “a reflection on the complex relationship between humans, forests, climate change and fire” (the fire allusion is in the third movement, titled “Burn”, and the composer writes about the massive and devastating wildfires that have, she says, become the norm in California, exacerbated by climate change and “decades of fire suppression and policy against prescribed burns” that are in part responsible for recent devastation).
So that’s one aspect of the natural world. Sibelius saw it differently, more with awe and reverence than matters of policy, and the famous “swan theme” that dominates the finale of his Fifth Symphony evokes an unforgettable image of the majesty of large birds in flight. Wagner’s Prelude to Act 1 of Lohengrin has its avian connection, too, in that the hero is sent to rescue a fair maiden in a swan-drawn boat (that’s about as birdlike as it gets, so make of the allusion what you will). Its beautifully written meditation, growing from a beginning and fading to an ending at the very thresholds of audibility, was played with gentleness and subtlety by the strings (Zoë Beyers their leader) and under Storgårds’ direction the brass and wind achieved a tonal blend of real distinction and warmth, and, at the height of the crescendo, of real splendour.
But the anticipated splendour of a new organ concerto was probably a thought in most minds as Breathing Forests began. It’s not like a traditional concerto, though – in fact the organ is used more as a component in a total orchestral tutti than as a solo instrument. I may be reading its intention wrongly, of course, and I wonder whether the balance of the two might have been different had the soloist been able to use the fibre-optic-connected detached console available for positioning on the Bridgewater Hall platform rather than the mechanically linked one built into the organ case. Those who know both have told me that the on-stage one seems more immediate in its response to the player than the fixed one, as with the latter the player hears reflected sound, the main effect going over his or her head. But the writing means that the organ is rarely solo for very long, and when together with the orchestra – whether in mellowness or full-on power – it tended to retreat behind it, as heard in the hall (that may come out differently in the broadcast recording, of course).
There is an extraordinary variety of orchestral effects in this composition, perhaps diverting attention away from its underlying musical qualities – though the programmatic nature of the piece as described by Gabriella Smith is in no doubt. To begin with (the first movement is called “Grow –”), it might seem in Forest Murmurs territory, with bird-like sounds from principal viola alongside soft organ registration; but this turns quite abruptly to a reedy timbre and a fulsome episode for orchestra. As woodwind evoke more birdy noises, the organ takes a role it’s given at several points in the work – that of anchoring the music in a kind of tonality, as it sustains a slowly changing, sustaining chordal role. The movement develops into what seems a battle between two protagonists, with growing energy and the emergence of a repeated melodic cell, before a decrescendo.
The central, slower, movement, titled “Breathe –”, begins with a string effect like a combination of spiccato (bouncing the bow on the string) and tremolando (rapid alternation of pitches), evoking a lovely effect of wind in the trees, and the organ contributes that unique sound most pipe instruments have of the wavy effect of a slightly dis-tuned rank (usually called “celestes”). String harmonics and sliding pitches are given a tonal anchorage by the organ before a big crescendo – the orchestral bass instruments sounding more incisive than the organ pedal – which ends in what came over as almost pure noise, before things calm down to the celestes effect again and finally a single stop’s sound, while the strings play with the scraping sound of bows up to the bridge and players produce mouthed noises as well.
For “Burn”, the final movement, it’s a matter of another seeming battle, McVinnie at the organ (pictured taking his bow later) sustaining its chords, the brass and wind competing with it, and a slow theme developing in the bass of the spectrum, finally intoned by the orchestral horns. The organ’s last big pedal entry might have been designed to make the kind of effect Saint-Saëns envisaged in the last page of his Organ Symphony, but that’s not really an option with the Bridgewater Hall instrument (neither in Saint-Saëns nor here) – nonetheless, it had a majesty which continued as the music came to rest on a final major chord. But is optimism the outlook for our endangered forests? I’m not sure.
Sibelius’ Fifth Symphony was the BBC Philharmonic’s chance to show what it can do with a great and well-loved work. Few can have been disappointed with that. From the pure, clear ensemble of the horns, through the clarity of the strings’ enunciation, and with John Storgårds’ control of the first long crescendo (and Paul Turner’s much-appreciated contributions on timpani), the first movement was rewarding in its tension-building, the climax and key change beautifully achieved and the ever-faster 3/4 section thrilling and sustaining impetus to the end. The central movement caught the “quasi allegretto” marking beautifully, with a slow swing in its underlying rhythm and lyrical playing from the violins. Its progress to a high point and then relaxation was smoothly paced, and the later brass entries were menacing and portentous (as well they should be).
And, with hardly a pause for breath, Storgårds swept into the final movement, the strings full of energy, the swan theme swooping its way, and the build-up to its final return magnificent. The last bars – famous in their own right – had accumulated momentum, even in the rests, to make an enviable cadence.
- To be broadcast on Radio 3 on 23 September (and on BBC Sounds)
- More classical reviews on theartsdesk
