I Wanna Hold Your Hand - Beehives and Berio at the Festival Hall

By Julia Hudson 

I’m the only girl on this blogging team, so in this post I’m going to talk about toasters, cushions, vintage, and almost certainly fashion. Consider yourselves duly warned.

If you venture into any trendy retail establishment or hip cocktail bar, you will find a smorgasbord of “retro”. Gatsby-inspired beaded flapper dresses, Smeg fridges, beehives (not the buzzing kind), and endless looks back towards a bygone era. Vintage is in, and many trendsetters are rejecting progressive design in favour of authentic or faithfully reproduced pieces of history which are permeating our daily lives.

Last week, I went to the Royal Festival Hall for the eagerly-anticipated Sao Paolo Symphony Orchestra Brazilian-themed concert, conducted by Marin Alsop. The programme was close to Alsop’s heart, mentored as she was by Bernstein, who was in turn a close supporter of Guarnieri, and who commissioned Berio’s Sinfonia, which was performed with the Swingle Singers in the second half. Introducing the pieces with a friendly, collaborative air, Alsop seemed comfortable and the orchestra responded beautifully.

Mad Men's stylish Joan Holloway

As Nick Breckenfield mentions: “Born out of post-war austerity, and conceived from the very beginning as the only permanent fixture marking the 1951 Festival of Britain, the Royal Festival Hall was always set to become the capital’s – and therefore the country’s – main music venue.” Having undergone a multi-million pound restoration in recent years, the RFH still stands as “an astounding architectural statement” in the heart of the city. To be the venue for this kind of programming, surely, showed it at its most authentic – indeed, one could have stepped back in time. As Alsop said, “all we needed was the Beatles”, or, indeed, a Dualit kettle. Mad Men's stylish Joan Holloway

But, with our embrace (on this blog, and throughout much of the classical music world) of all things forward-looking and innovative, of music fused with technology and progressive thinking, was this concert dated, out of touch and (dare we say it) passé? Surprisingly, the music still had the power to shock, and shock it did – six of my neighbours had walked out by the end of the first movement of the Berio, with its vocal grunting and squeaking and constant referencing of other works. This, considering how much has passed in society since this music was conceived – Miley’s twerking, clearly, has nothing on this.

Where is the line, then, between dated and retro? Is it down to quality, authenticity, consistency? The young, beautiful, trendy incarnation of Swingles, though, were key, as was the vibrant orchestra. However, there is something about the past which unsettles my (Eighties) generation. To pull the girl card again, I’ve just started watching Mad Men, and am finding the flagrant sexism and disregard for female intelligence disturbing. I enjoy vintage clothing, music from bygone eras and am partial to the occasional beehive, but a “real” authenticity of values and belief systems doesn’t sit well with my contemporary ones.

So, where does this leave music?  Nick Breckenfield suggests that “there are derisory claims as to the Royal Festival Hall’s plain, even austere, functionality…[but that it is] just as much a product of its times as the spirit of hope that gave birth to the Festival of Britain.” Perhaps this is the key – we don’t have to disparage or dismiss more contemporary music, with its pared-down, Bauhaus-esque aesthetic, if we view Friday’s exciting and still powerful music as a product of its times. When one considers that Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring was written less than 40 years earlier, this suddenly isn’t so hard to do.

What are your thoughts? Comment below or join in the discussion on our Facebook or Twitter pages. To see more images or find out more about Southern Sinfonia, please visit our website and Instagram! 

When Rock meets Classical

By Chris Billingham 

Responsible for Southern Sinfonia in the world of social media, I have to start this particular article with a confession; classical music was not my first musical love. My first was the music of British rock band Queen; without a doubt, this is my dad’s fault. To this day, their music still brings back incredible memories of my childhood. From driving along and blaring out the ‘Night at the Opera’ album in the sunshine (for night time drives the band of choice became Pink Floyd) to my mum’s joy at us doing the housework being crushed when it became apparent we were actually just singing with feather dusters. 

The seeds for a love of classical music were of course sewn throughout Queen’s music; the band’s diverse style and range of talents led to a number of songs having classical music elements, in particular orchestral and operatic. It was, however, considered a risky move when Freddie Mercury decided to release an album that was very clearly a “classical crossover”. When record companies were approached about 1988’s ‘Barcelona’ (released with operatic soprano Montserrat Caballé) they “completely freaked” and claimed the album wouldn’t work. What was considered more acceptable was the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra releasing a stunning collection of Queen covers, a CD dad would also play at an incredibly loud volume. This performance of ‘I Want It All’ (my favourite Queen song) was a highlight for my younger self, allowing that love of classical music to begin to flourish: 

The RPO has continued to release fantastic orchestral versions of the music of bands such as Oasis and Coldplay. Is it fair, however, to suggest that the lines between rock music and orchestral music have merged further? Are we now in a position where it wouldn’t be considered odd to have an act perform in an orchestral setting? Arguably, the modern day equivalent to Queen is the equally grand and diverse Muse, their acclaimed 2013 Brit Award performance with a full orchestra and choir suggesting that it is far from odd to see classical music and rock music combine. It is in fact, stunning: 

For me, orchestral performances of other genres such as rock and indie have helped us reach this point. In a recent Classic FM web chat with Gareth Malone, Southern Sinfonia asked the extraordinary choirmaster how he thinks classical music can be brought to a wider cross-section of society. He explains that, in his view, “demystifying is important and just showing people that this is GREAT MUSIC”. Orchestral covers are a great tool to demystify and get people to listen to classical music. I know that, as a teenager, I wouldn’t have listened to violinist David Garret perform Mozart’s violin concertos. What I would have listened to, though, was his brilliant cover of Nirvana’s ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’: 

I would then have investigated further and found his more traditional recordings. The beauty of modern technology means that it is no longer just the professional recordings of Garret with the RPO available: 

This type of video and performance makes classical music accessible to all, allowing people to find it through any other genre. Then, they will hopefully end up in the position I’m in, listening to Britten and thinking about many new musical memories; from driving through country roads whilst playing Mendelssohn at full volume, to sitting in St Nicolas Church and being blown away by Southern Sinfonia’s performance of Brahms’ Symphony No. 4. 

What are your favourite orchestral versions of rock or pop songs? There are so many to choose from and we would love to hear your suggestions in the comments below or on our Facebook or Twitter pages.  

To see images from the concerts referenced above, please visit our Instagram profile, to learn more about Southern Sinfonia, please visit our website. 

Is music a language?

By James Chater 

Stravinsky suggests music is not a language

“Music is powerless to express anything at all. Do we not, in truth, ask the impossible of music when we expect it to express feelings, to translate dramatic situations?”

This rather disconcerting comment gives Stravinsky’s opinion on a question that has been the subject of debate throughout the history of music; is music a language? Whilst a rather poetic little statement, is it actually true? Opposing Stravinsky is Deryck Cooke, a British musicologist, who argues, “Music is a strictly codified language…each scale degree signifies a certain emotion and permits only a single specific reading.” This is an ambiguous argument, and difficult to agree with completely.

One thing advocates of both parties are able to agree on is music’s ability to express emotion. Yet even this unearths a plethora of contradictions. What emotion is it? Is that emotion universal? If the emotion we feel is then described using language, does that not simultaneously dispel the idea that music is an independent, “universal” language? To avoid a slightly circular argument, I propose we take things back to basics.

In language, in its most basic form, words are used to correspond to a single object or idea. Grammar (words positioned in a particular order, subject to rules) can generate additional meaning. Does music have the power to perform any of these functions? The essential “building blocks” of music are notes, perhaps the equivalent of words (or maybe letters; the convolution sets in); can we say a simple middle C has a meaning that can be interpreted in the same way a word can? No. It soon becomes clear that attempting to put music in terms of language is a fairly futile exercise.

If there were an example that came close to putting music in terms of a language perhaps Wagner’s leitmotif would be it. A leitmotif is an ordered section of notes and/or harmony, a musical motif, which corresponds to a single object or abstract idea. Of course, this was Wagner’s wish, unifying his libretti and music, and shows his brilliance as a composer of drama.  However, once again, the argument that this shows music as being a universal language is flawed. If a language at all, this is only Wagner’s musical language, and given the complexity of Wagner, probably just one composer’s language for one opera. Despite Wagner’s genius, I daresay music would become rather boring if, any time a composer wished to express love, they were required to use the love motif from Wagner’s Die Walkure; just so the audience understood what emotion the composer was trying to convey.

And yet, surely, that is one of the greatest things about music; that we do not always fully understand the effect it has, and why it happens. To assign music objective meaning, as a language attempts to do (and arguably fails to do, but that subject is for another day), is to wholly detract from the purpose of music itself. Or as Charles Dobrian said, “if all meanings could be adequately described using words, then the arts of painting and music wouldn’t exist.”

Personally, whether you believe music is a language or not depends on what you want to gain from music, and so a degree of self-questioning is required if you are to reach your own conclusion. If you feel searching for an objective meaning in music, an idea which you can parallel directly with everyday life, is your sole purpose, then this is surely restricting music’s ability to transcend habitual emotion, to stretch your intellectual capacity. Conversely, to say that music occupies an exclusively transcendental part of human experience is to ignore music’s inherent connection with life. For me, a balance of the two maximizes music’s potential to affect me. Perhaps Aaron Copland sums up this opinion more eloquently: “The whole problem can be stated quite simply by asking, “Is there a meaning to music?” My answer to that would be, “Yes”. And, “Can you state in so many words what that meaning might be?” To which my answer would be, “No.” Therein lies the difficulty.”

What are your thoughts? Comment below or join in the discussion on Facebook or Twitter! 

To learn more about Southern Sinfonia please see our website and Instagram. 

Innocence and Experience: The romance of Brahms meets Britain's Britten

By Southern Sinfonia 

In our unique and very special concert, we are celebrating a number of themes: youth and age, anniversary and remembrance, and competition and rivalry. The edgy, complex Britten, whose centenary we celebrate this year, hated Brahms’ music and, indeed, wrote “It’s not bad Brahms I mind; it’s good Brahms I can’t stand”. Our soloists, two up-and-coming 20 year old winners of the Newbury Young Musician of the Year competition, are introducing this note of controversy, with a movement from his Piano and Violin Concertos respectively.

Alexander Hohenthal, Southern Sinfonia’s Leader, discusses the importance of young people, including our winners, in classical music in our latest video. Young people, he said, have “freshness, and that genuine heartfelt first time experience, [which is] unique and something that one should always help, and foster”. Here, he is touching upon something not thought about or discussed as much as it should be. Usually when discussing the importance of introducing classical music to the younger generation, it is presented as a way to keep the art form alive, to sell tickets and explore new talent. What is rarely talked about is why this talent is so powerful and engaging. The fresh, bordering-on-nervous energy of a younger performer, not jaded by experience, can manifest itself into a compelling performance.

This freshness and edginess suits the programming of Benjamin Britten perfectly. A strange mixture of savage rawness and habitual predictability, Britten ran his life “as he would have run a farm or small business” (Paul Kildea, one of Britten’s biographers). His sister comments that he was “at his studio desk by 9am at the latest, remaining until 1pm; a walk after lunch, during which more of the music was mapped in his head and sometimes sung, to the amusement of passing villagers; three more hours at his desk.” However, with a controversial and questionable personal life, he was no mere creature of habit. While capable of forming deep and lasting friendships, he created what he termed ‘Ben’s corpses’ – people in whom he had lost interest.

None other than Bernstein hinted at something more sinister; “when you hear Britten’s music…you become aware of something dark”. While musically and personally vastly different to Brahms, both composers are familiar with these dark and morbid overtones. Indeed, Brahms’ final symphony, the Fourth, composed in 1885, sees his symphonic writing reach its tragic climax. This symphony epitomises perfectly the nature of Brahms’ compositional method; distinct from the progressive German movement of Liszt and Wagner, intrinsically connected to classicism in terms of form, in the likes of Beethoven and his contemporaries, yet in itself distinct from any other composer. It is by no means a coincidence that Brahms was one of the first great composers that was also a musicologist; also a voracious listener of Bach, the final movement of this symphony uses a melody from one of Bach’s cantatas. The influences of Palestrina are also evident.

The first movement of the Fourth Symphony shows why Brahms has been said to be able to “create something out of nothing”. The first melody is constructed from the famously simple motif of two descending notes, each one an interval of a third. It is subsequently developed by a canon in the woodwind, a contrapuntal technique synonymous with earlier periods of music. The final movement is a rare example of a symphonic passacaglia, drawing on elements of sonata form and theme and variations (an extremely popular technique in the 19^th Century). Brahms’ brings rationality to a seemingly complex sound, and again highlights his talent in creating complexity out of simple and basic techniques. The conclusion is categorically macabre, ending dramatically in minor tonality, exhibiting Brahms’ burgeoning preoccupation with death as he became older. 

To purchase tickets to 'The romance of Brahms meets Britain's Britten' click here. The concert will take place on Friday 18th October in the beautiful St. Nicolas Church, Newbury. 

To find out more about Southern Sinfonia, visit our website. You can also talk to us on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. 

From Katzenjammers to Eton – where could classical music take your weekend?

By Julia Hudson

I have just joined a new choir. Based in St Gabriel’s, Pimlico, they are a relatively new chamber choir made up of ex-choral scholars in their twenties, and, pleasingly, appear as fond of riotous nights out as they are of singing. Two weeks ago, after just one rehearsal, we sang a stunning Evensong at the beautiful Southwark Cathedral, followed by an evening of much merriment at Katzenjammers, a German beer hall in London Bridge. While I’m sure my weekend activities are of infinite fascination to you, this also illustrates very succinctly a crucial point about classical music-making. There are, I imagine, very few hobbies where in one week a group of people largely unknown to one another could come together both socially and musically with such resounding success. What is it about making music that has this effect? In my view, it is the discipline required, where every musician is concentrating wholeheartedly on each other and on the conductor, responding to every gesture seen and nuance heard, combined with the satisfaction generated by a really excellent outcome. No choral piece or orchestral work could be executed by one person, however great their talent. Yes, the same can be said for a sports team, but I think music has the edge because their efforts result in a performance for the benefit of others, rather than an introspective battle between two teams.     

Continuing on the theme of my weekend pursuits, last Saturday I travelled with the rest of the Southern Sinfonia team to Eton College, where we were performing with the Windsor and Eton Choral Society. The programme was the stuff of dreams, featuring the Vaughan Williams Five Mystical Songs, Poulenc Gloria, Ravel Mother Goose Suite, and the unspeakably beautiful Bernstein Chichester Psalms, which latter I haven’t been able to stop listening to since hearing them live at the Last Night (even better, without the Government restrictions suffered by the Proms the wonderful Alex Banwell sang the treble solo). With an orchestra of 60 players and Alexander Hohenthal leading brilliantly, the blend and cohesive nature of the sound, as well as its sheer quality, was remarked on by many of my neighbours in the audience.

So much of the music Southern Sinfonia perform is sacred music; choral society repertoire tends to be made up of the classics, Handel’s ‘Messiah’, Bach St John Passion, and the Verdi Requiem, to name a few. Church, more specifically cathedral, music in the UK is a tradition which is very special; although there are fine choirs internationally, such as the Vienna Boys’ Choir, we are the only country which has the culture of cathedral schools and celebrates trebles (young, male, unbroken voices) to such an extent. As a result, much of our music has been written for this all-male setup (trebles, male altos (countertenors), tenors and basses). In very recent years, cathedrals all over the UK have been introducing girls’ choirs to complement and reduce some of the daily service workload for the boy trebles, as Canterbury Cathedral announced on Wednesday. Like many of our orchestral players, these children are steeped in musicianship from their youngest years. In my view, this involvement in music is invaluable; it gives a sense of being part of a greater whole, pride in what they do and a discipline and conscientiousness which stands them in good stead in later years. This week, The Independent featured research from the University of St Andrews, which highlighted “musicians’ improved reaction times and their increased capacity to “inhibit task irrelevant information” (aka, to stay focused). “[The results] suggest that higher levels of musical training might result in more efficient information processing in general (indicated by faster overall speed across tasks without accuracy tradeoff), and confirms earlier reports indicating a positive link between mental speed and musical ability,” says Dr Jentzsch.”

In a country where the educational system is constantly under scrutiny and criticism, and social behaviour of the young being questioned, surely this should be embraced, rather than sidelined; as Jentszch says, “in times of economic hardship, funds for music education are often amongst the first to be cut.” And, as well as giving you second-to-none skills of concentration and wonderful memories of beautiful buildings, once your voice has broken and you’ve hit your twenties you’ll still have people to socialise with.

Are you doing anything this weekend that relates to classical music? To let us know, comment below or join in the discussion on our Facebook and Twitter pages!

On Friday 18th October, Southern Sinfonia is celebrating Brahms and Britten in Newbury’s beautiful St. Nicolas Church with our concert ‘The romance of Brahms meets Britain's Britten’. To find out more and purchase tickets to this wonderful event, click here.

To see more beautiful images of our concert this weekend, visit our brand new instagram page. You can also find out more about Southern Sinfonia on our website.