Birdsong at dawn, a celestial rainbow, whispered piano chords in shades of “blue-orange”, light, stars and the things of heaven. What does it all mean? Without knowing a note of Messiaen’s Quartet for the End of Time (1940-41), its title indicates its grandeur. The composer’s own words underline his ethereal aim, as does his dedication at the top of the score: “In homage to the Angel of the Apocalypse, who raises his hand towards heaven saying: There shall be time no longer.”
Our idea of angels or apocalypse may be more earthbound than that of the French composer, a devout Roman Catholic. Yet most of us yield to a notion of eventual cataclysm by whatever agent. That, and the inspirational circumstances of its writing – in a German prisoner of war camp where Messiaen was held captive, premiered in midwinter to inmates and guards – give this 20th-century masterpiece a particular supremacy, aside from the singular if uneven brilliance of its music. (Many who admire it still damn some parts as banal.)
Every performance has a sense of event. It attracts great soloists to play together, not least because fearless musicians are required to negotiate its treacherous eight movements and make it sound, if not easy, lucid. On Tuesday, in a sold-out St John’s Smith Square, pianist Steven Osborne, violinist James Ehnes, cellist Alban Gerhardt and clarinettist Jean Johnson achieved just that.
As Osborne, one of the world’s top Messiaen interpreters, has written, it’s “the juxtaposition of deep calm and great complexity” which shapes this strange music. It defies convention. All four players only unite in four of the movements. Cello and clarinet are silent for the closing 10 minutes. Despite the name of the work, time cannot stop in music, that most temporal of art forms, yoked to metre, tempo, bar line; beginning, middle, end. Messiaen, careering off into his own rhythmic world, almost convinces us it can.
Each player projected a distinctive musical personality, combining in supportive coherence. Osborne, capable of playing with almost inaudible, misty hush in the two “louanges”, or “praises”, can also detonate chords with spitfire energy. Messiaen wrote of the “enormous blocks of purple fury”. Beadily vigilant from the piano, Osborne kept all his musical comrades in his gaze. Johnson (who is married to Osborne) brought virtuosic rigour and freshness, rather than angst, to the clarinet part. Gerhardt’s playing always has a generous poetry. He makes his Matteo Goffriller cello of 1710 sing.
Ehnes, whose Stradivarius dates from the same period (1715), achieves unmatched directness, honesty and peerless warmth of tone even in the instrument’s highest, thinnest notes. Violinist and cellist have never played together before. Their meticulous playing was exposed – and not found wanting – in the opening canon of Shostakovich’s Piano Trio No 2 in E minor, Op 44 (1944). Weaving around the high-wire harmonics like trapeze artists, cello often taking the upper line, both they and Osborne made an electrifying case for this amazing work, in which war-weary anger gives way to peace.
Shostakovich’s music is on every concert schedule this year. The centenary of the Russian Revolution has finally benefited one who suffered its consequences. LSO St Luke’s Shostakovich Plus chamber series ended with a concert by the Finnish string quartet Meta4. Formerly BBC Radio 3 New Generation Artists and winners of several international competitions, this snappy, stylish group were collaborating for the first time with Scottish pianist Alasdair Beatson. Quartet and pianist found an intense, meticulous language to guide them through the cryptic world of Shostakovich’s Piano Quintet in G minor, Op 57 (1940).
The concert’s other work, a fine companion, was the UK premiere of Piano Quintet (2014) by Olli Mustonen (born 1967), like Shostakovich a composer-pianist. Beatson took the characterful lead in this zestful, often wild and stormy work, which twists baroque patterns with Finnish folk dance, now knotted, now manic, now sparse. Meta4, like many quartets, stand to play. It adds an intoxicating physicality to their performance. Even the cellist, who is obliged to sit, seems to dance. Hear this concert on Radio 3 on 15 December.
From Misper (1997) to last year’s considerable Nothing, Glyndebourne Youth Opera has achieved many coups. This year’s new work, Belongings, to a libretto by Laura Attridge and music by Lewis Murphy, enabled 65 locals, aged nine to 19, to perform together to a high standard, working with professionals. Exploring themes of home and exile, the double-sided story links events of the second world war (when groups of London children were evacuated to Glyndebourne) with present-day refugees. Instrumentalists from Foyle Future Firsts programme were among the ensemble, including, prominently, viola, clarinet, accordion and piano.
Murphy’s score had nice mellifluence but not enough drama (as heard in his beguiling The Three Ravens, part of Snow for Opera Story, premiered earlier this year). Equally, Attridge needed to forge stronger contrasts in the two stories. Often these things only become clear in performance. All the participants – including professionals Rodney Earl Clarke, Leslie Davis and Nardus Williams – gave their utmost. If only someone had caused a riot, strictly theatrical of course, to inject greater adrenaline into the action. A dozen of these young singers had a chance to sing solo. A couple, unidentifiable in the programme list, showed real talent. Over three decades and often behind the scenes, Glyndebourne’s education department has commissioned 32 composers, some works remembered, others forgotten. They have set a bold, risk-taking example.
Star ratings (out of 5)
Messiaen’s Quartet for the End of Time ★★★★
Meta4 and Alasdair Beatson ★★★★
Belongings ★★★
