EIF: Beth Taylor | JLCO & Yuja Wang
Queen’s Hall | Usher Hall
It’s only in the past year or so that the Scottish mezzo soprano Beth Taylor has begun to make an distinct impression on her native soil. Things were already happening for her, from success as a Grand Finalist in the 2023 Cardiff Singer of the World to debut appearances at Glyndebourne and New York’s Carnegie Hall. But it was her seraphic performance last year as the Angel in Elgar’s The Dream of Gerontius with the BBC SSO that had Scottish audiences sitting up and taking exceptional note.
So Last Tuesday’s Edinburgh International Festival debut was timely, a Queen’s Hall recital that demonstrated not only her engaging musicality and communicative personality, but a performer at ease in any given style with a flair for explorative repertoire and a desire to surprise.
For a start, there was initially no sign of Taylor. Pianist Hamish Brown was seated expectantly on stage, but the first sounds emanated from the rear of the hall were a distant hurdy gurdy-like drone and a disembodied voice intoning a mystical antiphon by the 12th century abbess Hildegard von Bingen.
It was the first of many vocal “personae” Taylor would negotiate over the next couple of hours. From the unadorned purity of O Ignee Spiritus, and with Brown now called into action, she turned to the languid late-19th century Gallic signature of prolific French-Irish composer Augusta Holmès, firstly in the dense harmonies and sweeping crescendo of Pareil à la mer profound, then the Bacchanalian wildness and wit Le Vin. Sung with emotive warmth and vivid characterisation, and matched by Brown’s demonstrative pianism, Taylor extended her French selection with the dreamy sentiments of Lili Boulanger’s Reflets.
Written especially in 2024 for Taylor, Cameron Biles-Liddell’s The Breakers conjured up sweeping images of the sea, its coupling of The Storm and Twilight playing to the singer’s extraordinary range from meaty lower tessitura to searing upper register. The same composer’s sultry arrangement of the traditional Orcadian tune The Grey Selkie o’ Sule Skerry saw Taylor transport us seamlessly to the plaintive world of Scots folksong. Dame Ethel Smyth’s Three Moods of the Sea, with their faint echoes of Elgar’s Sea Pictures, returned us to the eloquent world of art song.
The second half was no less comprehensive. Alongside such mainstream German Lieder as Fanny Hensel’s eloquently-styled Schwanenlied and Clara Schumann’s animated Lorelei, Taylor turned to the enigmatic American songwriter Connie Converse (who mysteriously disappeared in her car in 1974) and her last known work, the Cassandra Cycle – shapely unaffected storytelling sung with salon-like appeal.
As the only female member of the idiosyncratic French group Les Six, Germaine Tailleferre’s Pancarte pour une Porte d’entrée provided an off-the-wall springboard to the apogee of this consummate recital, the world premiere of Stuart MacRae’s Medusa. Theatrical, virtuosic and fired by clarity of purpose and, at times, bitter imagery, this was a performance of compelling drama, menacing energy, a kaleidoscopic tour de force for both musicians. Most of all, MacRae’s music played unstintingly to the charismatic versatility of Taylor’s ravishing voice.

How versatile would superstar classical pianist Yuja Wang prove to be, taking to the Usher Hall stage with Wynton Marsalis’ Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra for the first of two Wednesday evening repeat jazz performances? The audience was clearly lapping up the prospect, a darkened Usher Hall filled to near capacity, the atmosphere welling to euphoria with each neatly delivered number, the newly-minted arrangements by JLCO band members like liquid gold, shot through with sprays of climactic glitter.
While it was natural fertile ground for the JLCO’s breezy nonchalance, Wang’s delivery, while rhythmically ballistic and unquestionably virtuosic, often felt constrained by her studied discipline and rigid precision. That was a critical issue, given the programme’s thematic focus on the rise of keyboard virtuosity in 20th century jazz, putting Wang firmly in the spotlight.
True, hi-octane precision is exactly what Dave Brubeck applied to the limping rhythmic gait of his own Rondo à la Turk, which Wang’s machine-like rapidity captured intellectually if not wholly in spirit. JLCO trombonist Chris Crenshaw’s judicious arrangement came into its own in the woozy seductiveness of the central blues.
Fast forward to Duke Ellington’s time-stopping Reflections in D (arr. Joe Block) or the bossanova vibe of Oscar Peterson’s increasingly high speed L’Impossible (arr. Alexa Tarantino), and Wang revealed a more laid back, collaborative ease. Yet there was still a dry disconnect in her boogie-woogie response to Leroy Carr’s How Long Blues, and in Marsalis’ Marthaniel (from his larger work Citi Movement) the most interesting sounds came from his own JLCO, its lugubrious ensemble and liquidly nuanced solos.
It was in the likes of Cuban pianist Ernesto Lecuona’s La Camparsa (from his Danza Afro-Cubanas) and racy Gitanerías, both heavily scented in bassist Carlos Henriquez’s sensuous arrangements, then in the hair-raising panache of Art Tatum’s Crenshaw-arranged Tiger Rag and a closing rendition of Joseph Korma’s Autumn Leaves, that Wang eventually found the relaxed means to root out her inner cool.
One practical issue rather diluted the overall impact of the show. Marsalis chose to emcee seated far back in the trumpet section. Visually alone, that was a weak move. But audibility was also problematic, Marsalis’ quick-fire delivery not always picked up clearly by the hall’s PA system. Much vital information went unheard.
Ken Walton
(Photos: Andrew Perry)