RSNO / Niemann / Philbert
Glasgow Royal Concert Hall
The orchestral backroom boys, so to speak, got a prominent showing with the RSNO this weekend. Mainly the percussion, but also – in Beethoven’s Eroica Symphony, the programme finale – the wider rearguard ranks of woodwind and brass. That all seemed fortuitously appropriate especially as the evening’s concerto slot, a brand new timpani showpiece by Matthew Rooke – featuring RSNO principal Paul Philbert as soloist and making his last RSNO appearance before taking up a new post in Canada – was the centrepiece.
It was anyone’s guess how Rooke, a charismatic Oxford-born composer of Scottish and Gabonese descent whose thoughts and music constantly reflect those divergent inborn influences, would approach such a rare challenge. There are timpani concertos out there – a thunderous, rhythmically-charged and visibly entertaining one for two timpanists by Philip Glass for one. Equally there are clues to the instrument’s solo potential in such bombastic outbursts as feature in symphonies by the likes of Berlioz and Nielsen. To some extent this was an extension of the latter, Rooke opting to position his soloist on a raised platform rear-stage, but visibly attached to his exotically-equipped percussion colleagues. Philbert, besides his undoubted technical skill, is nonetheless a dynamic showman, so all eyes and ears were fixed on him for the work’s Glasgow unveiling.
The three-movement piece, called Tamboo-Bamboo (a multi-pitched Afro-Caribbean instrument borne out of slavery’s censorial extremes), proved to be a riot of celebration and atmosphere, its opening movement driven by an almost virulent blues energy, tinged with melancholy but fired by powerful rhythmic resilience. Already the restlessness of Rooke’s musical language felt all-consuming, an eclectic menagerie touching on everything from jazz to classical rock, at its height making fleeting feisty allusions to the giddiest extremes of John Barry’s 007 soundtracks.
Philbert’s performance – which began with simple hand claps – was dizzying to watch, whether requiring him to rotate 360 degrees to cover speedy logistics, or sourcing infinitesimal sound effects such as the surreal zoological sound world of the central Nocturne. The final Masquerade went full carnival, wild and loose-limbed, only for its intoxicating climax to be tamed by introspective reflection.
David Niemann’s alert direction was all the more remarkable for the fact he was replacing an indisposed Anthony Parnther – we were told the German conductor had interrupted his honeymoon to be in Scotland. But the real focus of this particular performance was on the indomitable Philbert, whose show-stopping execution proved a thoroughly memorable farewell to a highly-visible and distinguished seven years tenure with the RSNO.
Panufnik’s Third Symphony, Sinfonia Sacra, written in 1964 by the exiled Polish composer to commemorate a millennium of Christianity in his native country, summoned up its own distinctive champions from within the orchestra, the initial three Visions effecting a profound sense of religious theatre.
From the first of these – a clarion-like flourish featuring four trumpeters spread across the choir gallery – the atmosphere switched dramatically to a luscious blanket of strings introducing the mystical Vision II, the third announced by a barrage of percussion. Niemann extracted animated precision from the orchestra, especially in the more extended final Hymn where Panufnik’s musical inspiration – the ancient Polish anthem Bogurodzica – surfaced in full amid the gathering conflict and resolution.
While Beethoven’s Third Symphony, the Eroica, might have seemed in comparison like a reassuring old friend, Niemann had other plans. As regular Eroicas go, this one was of the brisk variety, the opening hurtling off the starting blocks like a hungry whippet. But it was also super-clean and full of unexpected surprises, Niemann directing us to elements within the score that often go unnoticed, especially from the woodwind. If some of it smacked of interpretational experimentation, it was also curiously exciting. Above all, and despite some evenness across the upper string sections, Niemann’s palpable motivation bore exhilarating results.
Ken Walton