Endellion String Quartet, 30 June 2019

The sun was shining, the cakes were baked, the music lovers settled on their cushions and quiet descended in St Mary’s Church for the first of the 2019 ‘Concerts at Cratfield’.

The Endellion Quartet opened with Haydn Op.20 no.6, composed in 1772, and a delicate and calming work where the brief turns into a minor key were simple shadows rather than anything more disturbing. Would this work gain even more from a performance on period instruments which would have given perhaps greater clarity, agility, and finesse of sound?

This ongoing debate – period vs ‘ordinary’ instruments – has strong supporters in both camps and with this work I find myself leaning towards period-instrument performers such as the London Haydn Quartet.

If only we could all remember our friends and bid farewell in the way Puccini did with Crisantemi…

With the audience relaxed the Endellions launched into the heart of their programme – Janacek and Schubert.

Both works, Janacek’s ‘Kreutzer Sonata’ and Schubert’s ‘Death and the Maiden’, make huge emotional demands on the performers. Cellist David Waterman explained that Janacek’s work is not in a traditional classical form but is rather a series of ‘clips’, a mosaic rather than a continuous logical progression. So what holds it together? The literary references suggest suppressed, violent emotions which break out with disastrous results. A performance which can access this febrile state of mind will be deeply disturbing leaving one drained and unsettled. This is not a work to which one would turn for comfort or reassurance.

Schubert’s ‘Death the Maiden’ on the other hand takes us into those part of our minds and hearts which are beyond words and is everything we could ask of music. The last movement with its relentless drive over the undercurrent of the cello was quite wonderful, but the cost to the musicians was visible on the leader’s face. Thank you.

Candy Blackham

The Gould Piano Trio with Robert Plane, 14 July 2019

The Greeks had two words for marking time — kronos and kairos. Kronos is the sequential, measurable time of clocks and calendars, moving from the determinate past toward the determined future. Kairos is numinous time; the time of the gods.

Forgive me, but I am much preoccupied by myth at the present and so I find myself wondering  in which kind of time we were immersed whilst listening to the Gould Piano Trio’s extraordinary performance last Sunday afternoon. Certainly, the concerns of kronos time (or rather, the effects of its disruption) are particularly evident in Messiaen’s distinctive ‘non-retrogradable’ rhythms. Here, the coordination and precision displayed by the players in the rapid monodic movements and intricate contrapuntal passages in the Quartet for the End of Time were breathtakingly effected.  Similarly, the measured steps of the courtly Baroque Spanish dance, the passacaglia, which shapes the third movement of the Ravel Trio, evoke kronos time as history, confirming how firmly Ravel’s style is rooted in the Classical French tradition. Here we are reminded too of how Ravel’s exquisite craftmanship, his clean lines, structural clarity and sense of proportion prompted Stravinsky to dub this composer “The most perfect of Swiss watchmakers”. And like a well-crafted clock whose intricate and mysterious workings are hidden behind its face, so the magical beauty of this performance of the Trio masked the huge technical and interpretive demands that the piece requires of its players.

Kairos time begins where kronos time ends: ‘And the angel which I saw stand upon the sea and upon the earth lifted up his hand to heaven, and sware by him that liveth for ever and ever … that there should be time no longer’ (Revelation of St John) . Kairos is a time of festival and fantasy; uncontrollable and uncontained. Kairos is circular, a boundless, gyring dance without beginning or end. And what a fantastic dance with the gods we were invited into through Robert Plane and the Gould Trio’s  performance of the Messiaen – Apollonian in its beauty, expansiveness, crystalline clarity and precision; Dionysian in its driving ecstatic energy, swirling colours and abandoned celebration of zoe, the juice of life that runs through and energises all living things. In ancient Greece, to be possessed by either of these two gods was to be ‘enthused’ and enthused we most certainly were!

The Goulds’ inclusion of Huw Watkins’ Four Fables further demonstrated their discerning sensitivity not only to performing but to programming as well. Inspired by Schumann’s ‘Fairy tales’ for clarinet, violin, and piano we are, once again, in the realm of the ‘fabulous’, the timeless time of ‘Once upon a time…’. Musically too there are tantalising connections: strong tonal centres, shared motifs and melodies reflecting a thorough understanding of idiomatic instrumental writing and an awareness of the role of the ‘listener’ in the composer-performer-hearer relationship. Like Ravel and Messiaen, Watkins knows how to write in a modern musical language that is both individual and original whilst remaining accessible. We were as charmed children again, utterly enchanted by these gentle, lilting fairy tales.

In our busy, kronos-conditioned lives we so easily lose sight of the magical and the numinous: what a privilege then to be invited into kairos time and be so enchanted, as we most surely were, by the Gould’s spellbinding performance.

Victor Scott

Heath Quartet, 28 July 2019

The printed programme suggested that the Heath ‘are fast earning a reputation as one of the most exciting present-day British chamber ensembles’. For my money, that reputation was already secure on earlier visits to Cratfield – even before their last (so far, only) change of personnel, when Sara Wolstenholme joined them as second violin when Cerys Jones chose to have more time with her family in Wales. The programme at Cratfield this time was ‘safe’, in the sense that the Ravel quartet and Beethoven’s Razumovsky No. 2 are centrally in the string quartet repertoire, even on many people’s Desert Island Discs list – or at least would be included in Private Passions on Radio 3, if the invitation from Michael Berkeley ever came.

The concert’s only wild card – hardly very wild – was the opening piece by Dobrink Tabakova, the Bulgarian-born composer now active in this country; she chaired the 2016 jury for BBC Young Musician of the Year. Highland Pastorale, a recently composed short homage to Scotland (but to folk idioms elsewhere too) would have frightened none of the less adventurous members of the audience, playing with drone bass and open fifth textures to exhilarating effect and showcasing St Mary’s famously immediate and intimate acoustic. As a warm-up for the quartet and a palate-cleanser for the audience it could not have been better (though it would be good to hear a longer piece from her in a future season – perhaps her string trio Insight). For some years the quartet have stood to play (with cellist Chris Murray seated on a specially designed hinged and raised box, preserving the sight lines to and from the other players). Perhaps as a result, the strong communication between all of them adds immediacy to their playing and enables at least those standing to move relative to each other: the po-faced and immobile Borodin Quartet they are not. From an audience point of view – I was in the chancel, very close to but technically behind the quartet – the visuals increase the intensity of the whole experience of listening.

The key aspects for me of their performance of both the Ravel and the Beethoven were the precision of their tuning and ensemble and their attack on the notes – not in the sense of inappropriate sforzando or volume, but energetic engagement with what the music seemed to require from moment to moment. If light and shade were another analogy, they did both blazing light and gentle dappled shade, as appropriate. The magic moments in the Ravel when two instruments play an octave apart were sensational; and overall they seemed perfectly to catch the idiom of the writing, in ways critics often say a non-French quartet will struggle to do. The spaces between the declamatory phrases of the opening movement of the Beethoven were equally striking – giving the silence its full dramatic weight before moving on to the new idea which followed, when the temptation to rush onwards must be very strong. The slow movement seemed specially rapt and intense, as it should be; and the finale rollicked as it should.

All in all, the concert was apt proof of how the best live performance of a work like the Ravel or the Beethoven, which we may think we know completely and have ‘on tap’ at home via CD or streaming, will reveal details we had not noticed before – at least if the playing is compelling enough to make us listen well. It will also remind us of all the features which make it reckoned as a great piece in the first place. For me, the Heath achieved this with conviction and style: the concert was an undiluted success and underlined what a rare treat it is to hear chamber music in such an intimate setting. Though there was in total only about an hour and quarter’s music, no-one could have felt short-changed; and the traditionally generous interval midway allowed concertgoers to be sociable over tea and cake – another of this concert series’ special offerings.

Philip Britton

Sounds Baroque, 11 August 2019

The sun shone, David Mintz, chairman of Concerts at Cratfield stood in his usual spot at the door to welcome arrivals, familiar and new, to today’s concert and his ever-helpful programme (£1) told us that ‘Sounds Baroque’ were giving a selection of pieces today to demonstrate what ‘Baroque’ sounds like (Corelli, Scarlatti, Gemiani, Telemann) and to introduce pieces by Stephen Dodgson, British composer 1924-2013. ‘Sounds Baroque’ are four charming and polished performers, Julian on the harpsichord, Sophie and Henrietta on violins and Henrik on cello, sharing knowledge about the music and instruments as they went (violin bows used to curve like a bow and arrow, now curve the other way to give the volume and sustained note required by modern music and instruments- ahah!). Cake and a good cup of tea at half time gave us the extra energy to attend to the second half finishing with Vivaldi, the remaining home-made cake on sale at the end to take home and enjoy. A delightful afternoon in a perfect country setting,

Anne Hyatt King

Guy Johnston and Sam Haywood, 25 August 2019

It was a packed house on a glorious summer afternoon – Cratfield at its sunny best – to welcome Guy Johnston and Sam Haywood, playing a varied programme of Bach, Beethoven, Janacek and Grieg.

“Brilliant programming” was the way one of Cratfield’s regular and knowledgeable concert-goers described it. Other members of the audience echoed this view – “The Beethoven gave me such a feeling – wonderful” and “Not a piece I know at all – greatly enjoyable – fun”.

I didn’t know any of the pieces (aside from the encore), so I was able to listen with a completely fresh ear and no preconceived ideas of how any of the pieces should be played. I confess – and music aficionados among you will no doubt correct me if I’m wrong – I did think I heard shades of the Grieg Piano Concerto in A at the end of the first movement of the cello sonata.

Here I have to declare my love of Baroque. For me the Bach was an uplifting way to start – music to wash over and around me, soothe the soul and bring joy – though I appreciate not everyone feels like that about it!  As it happens, I have spent the days around the Cratfield concert attending masterclasses at Snape, watching Phillipe Herreweghe working with young talented musicians preparing for a Bach concert on Friday as part of the Snape Proms. He keeps reminding them that all Bach is a dance and I felt that was exactly what we experienced with Sonata No. 2.

Guy and Sam played with passion and commitment – no less, I imagine, than if they were in one of the major concert halls in the world with which they are familiar.  I felt that they had a very good rapport with each other and with the audience, and that they were thoroughly enjoying their music-making. Though one couple I spoke to felt that the cello was overpowered by the piano at times, the majority of the audience was only positive. Comments such as “I liked that the performers seemed to be enjoying playing/performing, rather than just playing the notes”, “playing with gusto and enjoyment” and “sense of pleasure in music making” reflected this. There was also much praise for their musicianship – “fantastic musicians” was one person’s view.  Another couple said “We play the Beethoven, but this is a bit different – we’re in awe really”. And others liked the combination of instruments – “I’m enjoying it very much – it’s not a combination of instruments you see very often”. 

There were also many appreciative comments about the Steinway baby grand piano – “lovely piano – rich tone”, though there were several mentions of the rather noisy mechanism of the sustaining pedal.

I always reflect how lucky we are to have at Cratfield performers of such high quality and international experience – this week’s musicians being no exception. This is thanks to the excellent connections of the Cratfield Committee, particularly the Concert Manager. And while programme notes are always a tricky matter for me – I don’t know enough about music to understand the technical terms – I found them very helpful.  It was particularly good to have the story of the little-known Janacek Pohadka.

The prolonged applause and cheers and ‘bravos’ from the audience at the end of the concert – not a frequent occurrence at Cratfield – indicated how much the audience had enjoyed the afternoon. And we were treated to a short, but delightful encore – The Swan from ‘Carnival of the Animals’ (Saint-Saens).  Encores are rarely played at Cratfield, but this one was welcomed and seemed to be very much enjoyed by everyone.  For me, the best part of the encore was that Guy played without his score – the music stand was put to one side.  And he was completely wrapped up in the music – playing with his eyes closed. For me, there’s something special about musicians performing without a score – it somehow makes their communication with me – the audience – more intimate. And while I’m not sure about performers closing their eyes, as that can take away from the closeness of the connection between them and the audience, in this case it felt entirely appropriate.

Gill Bracey 

Castalian String Quartet, 8 September 2019

The programme included two early Beethoven String Quartets in G, Op.18 No 2 and then in B flat, Op 18 No 6 – a programming choice that focussed on Beethoven’s early period. This was followed, after the interval, with Brahms String Quartet in A minor, op.51 No2. The Castalian String Quartet, who are regarded as being one of the newer voices in chamber music, gave a very light and delicate handling of the two Beethoven String Quartets. The first violinist, Sini Simonen, handled the challenges within the works with great dexterity and her fellow musicians Daniel Roberts, 2nd violin, Charlotte Bonneton, viola and Christopher Graves, cello all showed individual brilliance in their instruments. After the interval we were treated to Brahms, String quartet in A minor Op.51 No 2, and what a haunting lyrical piece this is. In the second movement the contrast between the violin and cello increased. The quartet gently developed the themes and moods in the music, leading of course to its dramatic finale. I was swept away, as I think were the audience, who expressed their thanks with rapturous applause. From an audience perspective, I believe the listening experience offered by this string quartet was distinguished by their light and delicate handling of these works. How lucky we are to enjoy music played by musicians with international experience, in a small church in the Suffolk countryside. Finally, I would like to thank the kind people of Cratfield who bake wonderfully fresh cakes, and manage to serve hot tea in the interval. Cratfield concerts are a wonderful experience in summer.

Glenda Bennett

The Carducci String Quartet and Craig Ogden, Sunday 9 September 2018

This was the last concert of the 2018 season, bringing with it a warm sunny afternoon and a capacity audience (hardly any need to mention the spread of delicious home-made cakes on the tea table in the interval, which as a result ran longer than usual). The Carducci have a long history at Cratfield, as well as offering a strikingly intense sequence of all the Shostakovich quartets in Aldeburgh three years ago. They have a knack of being able to perform both ‘serious’ music from the string quartet tradition and less mainstream works to equal effect; and always look as if they enjoy playing everything on a programme.

The concert opened with Mendelssohn’s final quartet, the F minor memorial to his late sister Fanny and almost the last work he completed. The Carducci gave it all the passion and sadness it deserved, so it was quite a change of gear for Craig Ogden then to join them for a guitar quintet by Boccherini: in almost every respect deeply conventional of its period and in a major key, save for the transition to the D minor fandango with which it ends. This is quite a showstopper and manages that difficult feat of working out how to slow down to the finish (something Boccherini’s contemporary Antonio Soler could not manage in his equally famous fandango for the keyboard, which just stops rather than actually ending). The audience was clearly delighted, the plucked notes of the guitar nestling sweetly inside the texture of the four strings.

Exchanging the programming conventions of ‘the heavy second-half’ (Death and the Maiden, or a late Beethoven quartet, perhaps) for a lighter but less well-known combination of pieces, Craig Ogden next presented Lachrimae (‘Flow my tears’) by Dowland – a sudden window into a world of stately and gentle Tudor dance forms – and Sevilla from the Suite Espagnole by Albéniz. In a way, this was an odd but interestingly contrasted pair of solo pieces, showing two parts of the guitar’s ancestry: the lute in northern Europe and the flat-backed vihuela for the music of Iberia. Both were later overtaken by what we now know as the concert (or ‘baroque’) guitar, whose tuning – as Craig entertainingly explained while preparing for the Albéniz – can vary to match the piece but is markedly different from that of its plucked predecessors, just as the violin is from the viol.

The final collection of pieces brought the Carducci back to join the guitar for Astor Piazzolla’s ‘Tango Sensations’. The story goes that, when Piazzolla came to study with Nadia Boulanger in Paris in the 1950s, hoping to leave his already deep experience of tango behind and to become a more conventional classical composer, Boulanger encouraged him instead not to move away from his Argentinian roots: he followed the advice. As with the fandango in the first half of the concert, pieces based on a dance form (especially the same dance form) cannot easily escape from an unvarying shape and rhythm; but the variety in speeds and textures of these five late pieces held our attention. They are portraits of individual moods (and perhaps places too – for me, they conjured up Buenos Aires at night more than once). It is no disrespect (but obvious) to say that they would accompany inventive choreography superbly well.

Philip Britton

Kathryn Stott, Sunday 26 September 2018

‘Stunning’, ‘virtuosic’, ‘intricate’, ‘with an intimate touch’, ‘crackingly good’ and ‘electrifying’, ‘the best concert I’ve ever been to’, ‘I learnt lots of things about piano playing that I didn’t know’. These were just some of the words that members of the audience used to describe Kathryn Stott’s recital. On a cold, wet and windy Sunday in August, Kathryn Stott brought warmth and light to the Cratfield audience with a recital to celebrate her soon to be 60th birthday. It was good to see so many regulars for what constituted a rather different kind of concert for Cratfield. It was a real coup to have secured Kathryn Stott to play for us – she is an internationally renowned performer and teacher.

The programme was an eclectic mix of some of Kathryn Stott’s favourite pieces, all based on dance or song, that had particular meaning or significance for her. The range from Bach, to Strauss, to Lecuona, and including some pieces that are not part of the traditionally ‘classical’ repertoire was well received by the vast majority of the audience. Many people mentioned it when I spoke to them at the interval and after the concert. Her choice of piano was interesting – a concert grand – which filled the church with vibrant sound. For some of the audience it was too much, but for the majority of people I spoke to it had worked brilliantly well.  

The opening piece, J S Bach’s Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring, arranged by Myra Hess, clearly set the scene for what was to come. I suspect that every member of the audience has heard this played hundreds of times by different performers, but for me, I had never heard it delivered with such sensitivity and feeling. I was struck by the subtlety and intricacy of the playing, with changes in tempo that made me listen properly, rather than just allowing the sound to wash over me. It clearly didn’t go down well with one member of the audience who was frantically beating time, willing Kathryn Stott to play faster and at a constant tempo, but that is the nature of music, I suppose. We all have our view of how pieces should sound. It can be quite a challenge to go to a concert with a completely open mind, prepared to listen to different interpretations and not judge on the basis of preconceived ideas.

Kathryn Stott engaged with the audience, not only with her playing, but with the narrative she added to take us through the programme. She clearly recognised the musical knowledge of the audience, just saying a few words here and there about why she had chosen the pieces. It may have irked some people, but not me. I found it enlightening and helpful. We were treated to an encore of one of Chopin’s best known nocturnes. In it, Kathryn Stott ended the concert as she had begun – really making us listen and appreciate both the creativity of the composer and the versatility of sound that can be elicited from the piano by the best of pianists.

Gill Bracey

Maxwell String Quartet, Sunday 12 August 2018

There was never a dull moment in Sunday’s exciting performance by the Maxwell String Quartet, a young group of four close (and uniformly hirsute) friends who, just last year, won first prize at the Trondheim International Chamber Music Competition. Their approach is refreshingly – but occasionally unnervingly – different. As the viola player, Elliott Perks, explained to the Cratfield audience after the interval, the group takes certain inspiration from its background in Scottish folk music, which, as a group, the members regularly play and compose together. Indeed, their upcoming debut CD features Haydn string quartets alongside the quartet’s own arrangements of Scottish folk music. Perks pointed out to us that exploring links between folk music and the classical works they perform brings something new to both musical traditions, as well as a refreshing and infectious excitement to their performance.

This was particularly apparent in their second half performances of Haydn’s string quartet Op. 71 in E flat major no.3 and Tchaikovsky’s string quartet no.1 Op.11 in D major. In the Haydn, there was a freshness and a lightness in the delivery, notably in the first and finale vivace movements, in contrast perhaps to some recordings of the work which have arguably been delivered with a touch too much formality. As the group have said before, “people sometimes overcomplicate [Haydn’s] music and lose the vitality”.   

The folky themes in Tchaikovsky’s string quartet No.1 were also celebrated with good effect by the quartet. The famous (and regularly reworked) andante cantabile, based on a folk song that Tchaikovsky apparently heard sung by a Ukrainian gardener, was heart wrenchingly executed with a sweet yet sensitive rendition by the first violin. More dynamic contrast could have been applied, but the raw appeal of the rendition easily won over the audience. Was the quartet’s fresh approach delivered at the cost of technical perfection?  Occasionally perhaps, in the first half, but far more compelling to the listener was the undaunted enthusiasm, camaraderie and sheer exhilaration of this exciting young quartet.

Rachel Booth

Allegri String Quartet, Sunday 29 July 2018

A capacity audience gathered at St Mary’s Church, Cratfield, to hear the Allegri Quartet in a challenging programme – Mozart K464, Quartet no.3 by Alec Roth, and the first of Beethoven’s last quartets, Op.127. We, audience and players, were embarking on what is in many ways a strange experience – the audience sits in silence, listening to sounds made by four players who are attempting to bring to life marks on paper. These marks were ways of conveying the thoughts and feelings of composers who might be long-dead. How were the players to know what the composer meant? And how were they to convey those thoughts and feelings, developed in another historical time, to the audience? How was someone in the audience to interpret the sounds? Each participant is shaped by their own cultural background, and I wondered how one might introduce someone to this experience.

It is customary to write programme notes for concerts and historical information sets the music in context – it is interesting to know that Mozart wrote K464 in 1785, a generation after JS Bach died, and a few years before the great changes wrought by the French Revolution, but does a brief explanation of sonata form explain Mozart’s thoughts or feelings? The Quartet employs Bach’s contrapuntal techniques – why? Were they a means of conveying complexities and tensions, or had Mozart simply not been ‘liberated’ by the Revolution? What about the fleeting but disturbing changes from major to minor, and the ‘drum beat’ in the variations which hurried by too quickly for my taste? If the work had been a photograph it would perhaps have benefited from post-processing with changes to contrast, clarity, and sharpening. But what would Mozart have thought? And was he trying to convey any feelings at all?

The audience reacted well to the Quartet by Alec Roth, described as ‘pleasant’ by Rafael Todes. I personally heard a work with much more depth and found yearning and sadness, a mood which I felt continued through the tango and dance which I found neither seductive nor fun-loving, but darker and more relentless. It was a work which engaged the performers and touched the audience and is to be recommended for repeat listening.

With Beethoven’s op.127 I would advise the newcomer to note the historical context of the music – two generations after Mozart’s quartet, beyond the French Revolution, after the defeat of Napoleon – and then close his or her eyes and let the music into their being. Beethoven at the time of writing op.127 was fifty-five years old and within two years of his death. He had been profoundly deaf for nearly twenty years, hearing only in the isolation of his own mind. He was confident of his musical abilities, willing to ‘rhyme to see myself. To set the darkness echoing’, to use the words of Seamus Heaney, using whatever means necessary. The noble opening was to lead us increasingly into a private world, said Rafael Todes. Beethoven finds places of quietness deep inside one’s heart and mind, retreating into a bareness of soul which can be painful – Op.127 can leave the listener enriched and strengthened, even comforted, but on this occasion I felt a good performance was not one which was searching. Live music is always rewarding and thought-provoking and this concert was no exception, reminding us of the extraordinary complexity of communicating through music. I heartily recommend that you come to the remainder of the 2018 concert season at St Mary’s Church, Cratfield.

Candy Blackham

Jack Liebeck and Katya Apekisheva, Sunday 15 July 2018

It says a great deal for the enthusiasm and loyalty of the Cratfield audience that, despite the competing attractions on TV of the World Cup Final and the Wimbledon Men’s Final, the church was almost full for this recital (though perhaps the absence of England from the former and of Andy Murray from the latter was a factor). Those who attended were rewarded by a truly superb afternoon of music-making. We last heard this duo in 2014; they were outstanding then and are even more so now, in technique and musical sensitivity but even more in their obvious rapport. They play as one and the results are performances, even of such familiar works as made up the bulk of their programme on this occasion, which are revelatory.

The three main works were all among the most popular in the whole violin/piano repertoire. Works become as popular and frequently played as these for good reason – they are interesting, beautiful and hugely enjoyable to play and listen to. The first was Debussy’s Sonata in G minor, a very late work written in the year before his death,  Elusive and beautiful, it never fails to cast a powerful spell over its audience, as it certainly did on this occasion. The second work was Fauré’s first violin sonata in A major. Although very popular, as it happens it was less familiar to me than the other two main works in the programme. Indeed, for some reason I had never heard it in a ‘live’ concert before but am very glad to have done so now. Written in the composer’s mid-thirties it demonstrates his increasing confidence in his ability as a composer of  music typical of its late romantic  period and with many touches typical of its composer. I could not have had a better introduction to it ‘in the flesh’ so to speak than I had on this occasion and I was left anxious to hear it again, preferably with the same performers.  

After the interval we heard the one work certainly completely unknown to me and probably to the majority of the audience, a theme and five variations by Olivier Messiaen. Written when he was in his early twenties, it already shows signs of the remarkable originality which characterises his later and better-known works. It seemed to me to be a very attractive work which I would like to hear again, if only to counterbalance the overwhelming impact of later works such as Turangalila.

Finally we had perhaps the most popular of all works for violin and piano, César Franck’s Sonata in A major. Unlike the  Fauré, this is a work I have heard live many times, quite possibly nearing three figures, and which I love dearly, but I cannot remember a performance which was so full of energy, passion and sheer musicianship on the part of both players. As if that was not enough, the recital ended with an encore, an arrangement of the Meditation from Massenet’s opera Thaïs played with just the right degree of sweetness without the cloying which the piece can so often decline into in lesser hands..  Jack and Katya – come back again soon!

John Sims

Leonore Piano Trio, Sunday 1 July 2018

This was the first of the season’s Cratfield Concerts, blessed by blue skies and brilliant sunshine. The church was not completely full but the audience were obviously enjoying themselves and a large number of CDs were purchased after the concert to the delight of the Trio. The concert itself was a very Cratfield experience, with rarely heard music, a new composition,  and finishing with a stormy Beethoven Trio. Added to all this were punctuations from Merlin engines at a nearby air display!

The Leonore Trio was playing here for the first time, although Gemma the cellist had been here some years ago. We first heard a rather SchumannesqueTrio by Edouard Lalo, which was rich and warm, followed by a piece by David Matthews with an elegiac adagio dedicated to his late companion. The last movement was rather different and somewhat challenging, but the whole sonata form Trio was very rewarding. We were also lucky enough to have David with us to introduce his work in person.

After the interval (the usual mouthwatering array of cakes from the ladies of the Church) there was a shorter work by Josef Suk, which was a moving elegy to the writer Julius Zeyer. The concert finished with a brilliant early Beethoven Trio harking back to earlier influences and ending with a formidable last presto. I’m sure we all hope to see the Leonore back at Cratfield, they were certainly a fine start to a promising new season.

Pauline Graham

Brodsky Quartet, Sunday 10 September 2017

So another splendid season of Concerts at Cratfield has come to an end, to paraphrase Eliot, not with a whimper but a bang; in the form of one of the greatest pieces of chamber music ever written played by one of the world’s most distinguished ensembles, the Brodsky Quartet.

They started their recital with an unexpected but very welcome item, a selection of two movements from J S Bach’s The Art of Fugue. Although probably not intended by Bach to be performed but rather designed as a primer in the art of fugue-writing and therefore not written for any specific instrumentation, it is now increasingly played by chamber music ensembles as well as by solo instruments such as harpsichord or piano. The string quartet is the ideal ensemble for four-part fugues as each strand of Bach’s writing is made clear for the listener. They followed this with a fugue by Mendelssohn, a passionate admirer of Bach and one of the first advocates of his music. Mendelssohn’s own considerable skill at fugue writing is usually made apparent in his oratorios especially in the choruses. This is one of four fugues which he wrote for string quartet and, as was to be expected, it proved ingenious and enjoyable.

Next was one of the most popular string quartets of the later 19th century, Borodin’s second in D major. Surprisingly, despite its popularity largely due to two of its themes being ‘borrowed’ for songs in the musical Kismet, this was the first time it, or indeed any music by Borodin, had been played at Cratfield, and it received a performance of unashamed romanticism and virtuosity to great effect.

Following the severity of the fugues and the lushness of the Borodin, the Brodsky Quartet ended their recital and the whole series of Concerts at Cratfield 2017 with, as already said, one of the greatest works in the string quartet repertoire, indeed arguably one of the greatest works of music ever composed, Beethoven’s Quartet No 14 in C sharp minor Opus 131.  If one says ‘one of the greatest’, it can only be by comparison with the other five late quartets by Beethoven. at least one or two of which equal, or to some listeners, even exceed it in greatness. Written in a single span but divided into seven distinct sections lasting some 40 minutes, it comprises the whole range of human emotions from deep despair to transcendent joy with some episodes of sheer playfulness along the way. It leaves the listener in astonishment and awe at the transcendence of the genius that conceived it and wonder that any human mind could have done so. All that can be said of the performance is that it was worthy of the work and brought the season of concerts to a fitting conclusion.

The whole series of concerts has been outstanding and tribute must be paid to the organisers. The programme as announced for next year looks equally interesting and varied and I certainly look forward to it. I must again pay my respects to David Mintz, the writer of the very interesting and comprehensive programme notes which have added so much to my enjoyment of the concerts and, of course, to the delicious tea and cakes so generously provided in the intervals by volunteers from St Mary’s, Cratfield!

John Sims

Lendvai String Trio, Sunday 27 August 2017

Concert organisers still have work to do to persuade some audiences that a string trio – and its repertoire – are not just the poor relations of the string quartet. Not at Cratfield, though: St Mary’s housed an eager audience for this fifth and last-but-one concert of the 2017 season. With typically careful programme planning, the Lendvai had two sure-fire composers’ names which produced a church full almost to capacity: Schubert and Bach.

They opened with the B flat Schubert trio, D581, a middle-period work and Schubert’s only completed string trio: rarely played, so ideal to have the chance to hear the work live. The Lendvai showed a perfect blend of colours, especially the viola in the trio following the minuet. It proved to be a lightweight but delightful piece, though far less characterful than the composer’s late quartets and string quintet. As violinist Nadia Wijenbeek said from the platform, Schubert had not found it easy to write for this very exposing combination of instruments.

They followed with a tempting ‘wild card’: a late 1920s trio in C minor from the prolific, but now hardly played (at least in Britain), German-Dutch composer Julius Röntgen, all of whose trios the Lendvai have recorded. In his time, he was famous enough in the Netherlands to merit his name being one of those in relief on the outer edge of the balcony of the main hall of the Concertgebouw in Amsterdam, which in part recognised his role in the project to build the concert hall in the late 1880s.

It turned out to be a genial and lightweight work to explore, as well as agreeably compact, in a style harking back to Brahms but adding occasional elements of unthreatening modernism. Its ‘Finale automobilistico’ is programme music, very unusual in the chamber repertoire, and explains the whole work’s ‘Auto trio’ nickname. It wittily represents a summer motoring holiday, the composer and his family driving in a 990cc Fiat ‘Torpedo’ 509A through Germany, France, Switzerland and northern Italy, with what sounded like numerous surprises and near-disasters. The trio made the most of the opportunities in the music and may have encouraged the audience to explore other Röntgen on disc.

In the second half, it was specially good to hear pre-classical instrumental music for a change, in a season dominated by music written after 1800. Most people know the story, in all likelihood a complete myth, about the composition of the Goldberg Variations as a gift by Bach to his pupil Johann Gottlieb Goldberg, in order to assist Goldberg’s patron Count Keyserlink to survive insomnia. Implausible though this is, Goldberg’s name is now inseparable from the variations. The attraction of arranging them for string trio is to make the separate lines of the counterpoint clearer and to give greater varieties of colour, texture and volume than could the two-manual harpsichord for which Bach intended them. The recent Sitkovetsky arrangement, as played by the Lendvai, has become a fixture in the string trio repertoire, including on disc, and for good reason: all the notes are there, but they come up fresh in this new guise, and Bach’s genius survives intact such thoughtful reorganization. The Lendvai wisely made the decision to play each variation once only (Bach’s original asked for each to be repeated, making for at least an hour and a half’s music).  Playing with modern instruments and bows, they came closer to a sound Bach would have recognized by using very little vibrato, which in turn required pinpoint intonation from each player. The return to the original theme at the very end was a perfect summation of what had gone before; and sent the audience home clearly delighted with the whole afternoon. As always, the interval refreshments from a parish team were superb: they add an important non-musical extra ingredient to ‘the Cratfield experience’.

Philip Britton

The Aronowitz Ensemble, Sunday 13 August 2017

Of all the forms of chamber music ensemble the piano quartet – comprising a string trio of violin, viola and cello with piano – is the least often encountered. It poses problems of balance between strings and piano which fall between the extremes of solo string instrument and piano, trio of violin, cello and piano at one end and the piano quintet of two violins, viola, cello and piano at the other: for this reason, many composers simply fight shy of it. It was therefore a particularly interesting move for the organisers of Concerts at Cratfield to arrange a programme consisting entirely of piano quartets; what is more a programme of pieces for the grouping which were almost wholly unfamiliar to me in many decades of music listening.

The performers were four members of the admirable Aronowitz Ensemble; violinist Magnus Johnston, familiar to many of us as the founder leader of the then Johnston and now Elias Quartet, violist Tom Hankey, cellist Sebastien van der Kuijk and last but by no possible measure least the outstanding pianist Tom Poster. If I single out Poster for particular attention it is because the format, certainly in the hands of the composers featured in this recital makes special demands on the pianist – all overcome with what seemed almost insolent ease on this occasion. This is not in any way to underestimate the equal technical and musical demands of the parts assigned to the other instruments all also overcome with apparent ease – I say ‘apparent’ because this was clearly due to a very close musical relationship between all the performers. Problems of ensemble and balance inherent in the format and in particular the music chosen can only be overcome by a close and continuous working relationship and a great deal of sheer hard work.

Of the three works performed there was only one which I can recollect having heard before and this was the last in the programme, Brahms’s 2nd Piano Quartet. This is an impressive work, perhaps, if I dare say it, a bit overblown at 50 minutes in length. It is very similar in its writing to the better-known and magnificent F minor Piano Quintet, one of my favourite chamber works, but unfortunately to my mind not quite its equal in quality. In a lesser performance it would probably have outstayed its welcome from me, but on this occasion the performance was so compelling that I was sorry when it ended. The first work in the programme was a work by Schubert which I was astonished to realise I do not recollect ever hearing before, a single movement Adagio and Rondo Concertante in F, cheerful, highly enjoyable and unusually virtuosic in its writing particularly for the piano (Schubert no doubt looking to impress his friends by playing it at one of his musical evenings).

The real revelation of the afternoon was the second item in the programme, the Piano Quartet No 2 in G minor by, of all people, Gabriel Fauré. I say of all people since had I been asked to guess the composer this would have been about the last name I would have come up with, associating him as I have always done with beautiful lyrical songs and piano pieces, gentle and usually, soothing. I might well have said Brahms. It is big, weighty, hugely virtuosic for all players and both impressive and beautiful. I cannot imagine why it is not performed widely and often since it is a superb work giving immense opportunities to all players in the ensemble to shine – I would have thought it would be seized on by chamber musicians, but so far as I am aware I have never heard it before in the concert hall or on radio. I strongly recommend the purchase of a recording; if you love the Brahms Piano Quintet as I do you will love it.

I cannot end the review without acknowledging the great debt I owe in writing it to the splendid programme notes now written by David Mintz, keeping up the very high standard previously set by Philip Britton. A snip at £1!

John Sims

Chroma Trio, Sunday 30 July 2017

French chamber music of the 20th century could not be described as a Cratfield staple. Having remarked last year on its rather rare appearance at our Suffolk venue, I was more than delighted to see in the 2017 programme one concert devoted to French works, and a work by Faure forming part of a second. Another special aspect of last week’s concert was the appearance of the harp. As the notes pointed out, this instrument has not formed part of a ‘Concerts at Cratfield’ programme for some years, so it was a great pleasure and privilege to see the harp again. It’s always good to hear performers speak about their chosen  instruments and their chosen works, and in this the three players of Chroma engaged with the audience in an exemplary manner – judging their audience well. Eleanor Turner’s short disquisition on the green harp was a good example of such communication: we learnt that harps were originally brightly coloured and decorated, almost garish in appearance, not the pale, varnished instruments to which we are used. Eleanor’s bright green harp takes back the tradition.

We often remark on the very high standard of performance that is achieved in our Suffolk Summer Sunday recitals, and this Sunday was no exception. Perhaps particularly so when one realized that Chroma is a collective of 20 musicians and that the three who played for us at Cratfield are not always performing together. Their ensemble playing and enjoyment of each other’s work, as well as of their own, was a joy to watch and to hear. It is perhaps invidious then to pick out one, but – for myself – I thought David Le Page’s performance was exceptional: he was so much at ease, at one with the music, everything was effortlessly thoughtful, and simply beautiful. We’re also now used to detailed programme notes, both for the works themselves but also for general background. This Sunday I was struck by the importance of dates. I’m a historian so dates matter, but I think we’re all aware of the backdrop against which 20th century music was being composed, so it was helpful to have the pieces set in their historical context. And, of course, it was very pleasing so have a woman composer, Henriette Renié (1875-1956) whose particular life story added to our understanding of the music which brought the concert to an end. This was a classically elegant trio, a long and accomplished piece which our three instrumentalists really showcased.

The concert began with someone who was almost contemporary with Renié, Jacques Ibert (1890-1962). I confess to knowing little of Ibert’s music so was pleased to see the trio for violin, cello and harp on the programme. Although contemporary with music of Poulence, it was in quite a different idiom. Written during the war and  first performed in 1946, the piece had an energy and brightness, alongside some darker moments , that perhaps captured both the  hardship and the endurance of France at that time. It was on display in the writing for each of the three instruments, but particularly in the harp, beautifully played by Eleanor Turner. The harp and cello spoke to each other in shorter pieces by Debussy (transcriptions of two songs) and Saint-Saens (two romances), all four pieces new to Cratfield. There was a clarity and lyrical quality to each of these pieces which both instrumentalists expressed so well, with Clare O’Donnell’s cello playing particularly warm.

Finally, to the Fantaisie for violin and harp by Saint-Saens. Of a generation earlier than Ibert or Renié, Saint Saens (1835-1921) wrote this piece in 1907, at time when earlier personal tragedies were beginning to fade. It is so well crafted, with its clever changes of mood and tempi, delicate and more passionate sections, allowing each instrument to ‘breathe’ and express itself but also to work with its partner. And yet again it was elegantly and very beautifully played. There was a really satisfied and respectful silence as the piece came to a close and the audience ‘stood back’ to take it in before the applause, and the queue for tea.

Claire Daunton

Zemlinsky Quartet, Sunday 16 July 2017

The small village of Cratfield is hidden in High Suffolk and probably busiest nearly 2,000 years ago when the Romans tramped along the road through the centre! But on Sunday there was an unusual flurry of activity around the 14th century Church of St Mary, the setting for the second concert in the 2017 season of Concerts at Cratfield. On a warm summer afternoon the village ladies were cutting up cakes and buttering scones ready for the interval tea as the audience settled down to enjoy a programme of music for string quartet – the quintessential chamber music format in a quintessentially English environment.

The audience was captivated by a programme which caught the interest in various ways: first, Suk, Janacek, and Dvorak were major figures in the development of Czech music around the turn of the 19th century; then, all three quartets were written within thirty years of each other; finally, the music was emotionally testing. The configuration of the players – the way they positioned themselves –  was also ‘different’. In the 1800s the usual arrangement was first violin, cello, viola, and second violin. This changed in the 1900s to first violin, second violin, viola, and cello. The Zemlinsky Quartet used the older configuration – something which has become increasingly popular nowadays. Does the configuration matter? I think it does. There are two important considerations for the quartet: communication and projection of sound. Of course, the first violin is the leader and must be positioned so as to be able to communicate easily with the other players. But with the cello in the middle of the group the bass line and the depth of sound project more effectively – personally I prefer this configuration.

Josef Suk’s Quartet no.1, op.11, dates from 1896 and was a half hour in which to relax and leave the worries of the week behind. The Zemlinsky Quartet, playing the music of their own country, caught the pleasant nature of this music which could easily have been accompanied by a glass of light white wine on a terrace.

Janacek’s Intimate Letters was quite another matter. The deeply disturbing, and disturbed, music demanded attention as the musicians plunged into the maelstrom of sounds and emotions created by this passionate love-struck old man. Obsessive love was not a happy experience for Janacek and the music at times conjured up images of super-charged intensity such as Van Gogh’s vibrating stars. It was a fine performance, with marvellous ensemble playing, although I wondered if they could have taken us deeper into Janacek’s obsession – could the contrasts in sound and tempo have been more exaggerated? Could the sudden breaks and changes in thought have been more disturbing? And, having listened to the Borodin Quartet recently, would an overall texture of the work which was more transparent, more three-dimensional, more refined, have sucked us further into this strange mind?

Refreshed by tea and cakes we travelled to America with Dvorak for the delightful American Quartet. And yet the music remained firmly rooted in Eastern Europe despite the hoedown and hints of the blues. For me the cello caught the richness of the Eastern European subtleties of rhythm and nuances of tone, and at times I wished the first violin had been similarly uninhibited. It was none the less a very fine performance.

But there was no inhibition at all in the exuberant encore, Smetana’s Dance of the Comedians, which sent the audience on their way smiling!

Candy Blackham

James Gilchrist, Anna Tilbrook and Philip Dukes, 2 July 2017

“Aren’t we privileged to be here, listening to such exquisite music in this enchanting church?”

These were the words of one of Cratfield’s most loyal and regular concert-goers when I asked for a view about Sunday’s concert. And I agree wholeheartedly.

The church was bathed in warm sunshine inside and out and Cratfield regulars were meeting and greeting at the start of Cratfield’s 30th Season. What a pleasure it was to be back at Cratfield with the promise of a new season stretching out before us.

It was a bit of a ‘break in tradition’ to start with a programme of English song rather than a ‘straight’ chamber music concert, and the format probably did not suit everyone – one Cratfield regular said it was “all right”. For me it was an absolute joy.

The tenor voice is generally not my favourite, but I always love watching and hearing James Gilchrist sing. He has a magical way of communicating with the audience – I could hear every word so could look at him rather than peering at the words so helpfully provided with David Mintz’s programme notes.

I have recently heard many of the songs performed on Sunday in other settings – the Somerset Song Prize for developing singers and pianists just starting to establish their careers, held in Taunton in May, and at the recent ‘Singing Britten’ masterclass at Snape Maltings. I am certain that the participants in both these events would have learned so much from watching and listening to James Gilchrist and Anna Tillbrook’s performance.

As a music-lover with no formal musical education, it took me some time to understand the significance of the pianist in song recitals and the relationship between the singer and instrumentalist. The co-operation, respect and thoughtfulness between all the musicians for one another’s performances just shone out for me on Sunday.

The viola is fast becoming my favourite string instrument – I like to listen out for the viola ‘line’ in string quartets. I love its warm tones and resonance of its sound. So for me, the inclusion of the viola pieces in the programme was a welcome bonus and I so enjoyed Philip Dukes’s playing.

I know that Cratfield performers have, in the past, been asked not to make any introductions to what they’re about to play or sing, as the audience is knowledgeable and can feel patronised. Well – this audience member doesn’t agree. While I would not want long lectures, I found Philip Dukes’s introduction to ‘Lachrymae’ just right. It’s helpful to me, with an unfamiliar piece, to be given clues as to what to listen out for and this is what he did. Another audience member said it was “short, informative and gave you a sense of expectation”. And the decision to play the Dowland melody through first was perfect for me.

At the end of the concert, several members of the audience approached me to express their views. Their comments included:

“I could listen to that all over again.”

“Wonderful, wonderful – singing fantastic!”

“What a range of expression and variety of musical textures from such a small group.”

And this was just the start – lots more and very different experiences to come through the Season – aren’t we fortunate?

Gill Bracey

Callino Quartet with Anna Dennis and Alasdair Beatson, 11 September 2016

There was something both fitting and unusual about this final concert in another memorable season at Cratfield – while hardly flag-waving repertoire, as is usually the case in season/festival finales, it was highly apt in a venue where, more than most others, you can appreciate the rise and fall of summer, the progress and completion of the harvest, and the turn towards autumn. Even the sun beaming down on us as we left the church served to highlight the longer shadows than of eight weeks ago. This adventurous, rare and beautifully played programme was certainly autumnal in character – dark, restless, changing, uneasy, seeking new expressions and new sounds.

The performers rose splendidly to these tremendous challenges. The Callino Quartet, now in their seventeenth year, seem to communicate almost without looking at each other; so refreshing – a relief even – from the gushy gestures and smiley faces through which so many chamber musicians seek to interact. The contrapuntal textures and phrases of the Webern Langsamer Satz were beautifully shaped, never straining in their length and complexity. If I say the interpretation was more on the reserved and objective side, that does not imply any lack of commitment – more that they were happy to let the music speak for itself – which, of course, it did. Most impressive was the balance between the long shapes and the motives and gestures which combine to make them, it being all too common to hear one at the expense of the other.

They were joined by Anna Dennis for the daring Schoenberg String quartet no 2. This is indeed dark music, written from a dark place. Anna Dennis’ pitch in this fiendishly difficult part was impeccable throughout, her tone resonant and warm, never harsh. But I would have liked to hear more extremes, more character, from everyone. Again, one admired the sincerity and structure of the performance, but it was perhaps a little too sincere – never really ecstatic, desperate, or slightly unhinged.

Another quintet in the second half, Brahms Piano quintet in F minor, with the mercurial Alasdair Beatson, a man whose chameleonic flexibility as a pianist is utterly remarkable. The whole performance had a rather terrifying intensity to it, with a raft of sudden new colours and warmth to the quartet’s sound. I found even the more reflective moments also rather intense – occasionally Alasdair sits back in magisterial fashion and lets the sound ring out, rather than seeming to grapple and wrestle with it, and I would like to see him do this more, even in a predominantly restless piece such as this. But what a performance this was – the structure of the music was completely natural, the big sonorities managed and orchestrated as if by seasoned conductor, and the articulation clear and never fussy. Everything spoke. This was real Quintet playing, not Quartet plus one: sincere, committed, compelling – and, although autumnal and dark, truly uplifting and inspiring.

Nathan Williamson

Charles Owen, 28 August 2016

This fifth concert in the Concerts at Cratfield 2016 season featured four diverse works, each representing a different and developing strand in the keyboard tradition and each new to Cratfield.

The first, perhaps the oddball of the repertoire (but to me the gem), was the complex JS Bach, English suite no 3 in G minor BWV 808. The assured opening Prelude was meticulously rendered in strict meter, yet textured with subtle dynamic contrast to the extent pace and style permitted. This was followed by an allemande and courante, but it was the stately sarabande that particularly impressed, with its expressive nature and complexity delivered with dextrous assurance. Next the first gavotte framed in repetition a second gavotte or musette, the second title taken from the French bagpipe, with its single drone continuing throughout. The concluding gigue opened with a lively subject in the upper part, imitated and elaborated in the second part, with the expected reversal of entry order and inversion in the second section of the dance.   An exciting performance, whetting the appetite for Owen’s shortly to be released new recording of Bach’s six keyboard Partitas.

Frederic Chopin, Nocturnes, op 9 and op 15 could not have presented a greater contrast. One audience member was overheard to query whether they felt ‘out of place’ in the day’s programme, given their popular secular familiarity – in the case of Op. 9 no 2, across movie screens and video games. Of course, their early Romantic self-absorption is a matter of taste, but the freshness of Owen’s interpretation, through subtlety and sensitivity of touch, lent exciting novelty to the familiar.

Next, after the interval, came Franz Liszt, Bénédiction de Dieu dans la solitude, the third piece in the collection Harmonies poétiques et réligieuses. Though straightforward in its three-part structure, in language this is a largely rich, voluptuously textured piece. However, it was delivered without excess, seemingly almost effortlessly, thereby transmitting something of the divine peace Liszt is trying to convey, particularly in the gentle and beautiful coda.

The final work was the technically demanding suite Gaspard de la Nuit by Maurice Ravel. Owen’s spellbinding, glassy performance of Ondine was lent additional atmosphere by the heavens opening as the water nymph attempted to seduce observers to the depths of her watery lake.   As an intensely atmospheric Le Gibet opened, the rain suddenly ceased, a watery sunlight slanting through the clerestory as if lighting the piece’s mournful desert landscape with its hanging corpse, the haunting tolling bell persisting as a backdrop. Then the extraordinary, nightmarish Scarbo, extremely challenging both to performer – yet effortlessly delivered by Owen – and at times to the audience, rendered with suitable menace. Left breathless, the Cratfield audience applauded another exceptional performance by Charles Owen.

Rachel Booth

André Trio, 14 August 2016

I always get a little anxious about writing reviews. Not least is the problem of attempting to present something in a creative and engaging way, and it occurs to me that it mildly echoes the challenge faced by all musicians performing ‘core repertoire’ as part of their programmes: how to say something fresh, interesting and insightful yet still stay true to the composer’s intentions, the musical ‘brief’ presented in the score. And so, with the André Trio offering two major ‘standards’ of the piano trio repertoire in their concert at Cratfield, at least a part of any review must address this issue.

I have just watched some of the highlights of the Olympic Games in Rio. I’m not a great fan of sport (although my wife keeps reminding me that I’m in denial about that) but I am hugely enthusiastic about and greatly admire all who, in pursuit of their passions and interests, develop their skills and talents with singular focus and intensity. And perhaps this is where music and sport have much in common: there is something life-affirming, joyful and celebratory in both which the ancient Greeks recognised when the Games were instituted. Indeed, music was a major feature of the Games from the start (apparently the pentathlon and long jump were accompanied by music) and musical contests were the major focus of the Pythian Games dedicated to Apollo, God of the Arts.

So perhaps, if you will allow a little self-indulgence, there may some analogies that can be drawn between the Games and the André Trio’s performance. Certainly the choice of repertoire was ‘Olympian’ in its musical demands; the trio rose to those demands admirably, sustaining our rapt engagement and excited attention throughout the whole 90-minute programme. Here was energetic, muscular, athletic, honed and toned playing, unwavering in its forward drive and sense of direction and intent. Even when we reached the slow movement of the Mendelssohn there was no temptation to wallow in its ‘sticky’ sweetness, an over-indulgence which mars many performances; instead, just enough refined sugar to sustain us to the end of that particular musical marathon.

What then of the ‘set routines’, the ‘required elements’ and how were those given that something special that takes a performance to a different level? I suppose that we all have our favourite version or versions of core repertoire such as the Archduke or the Mendelssohn trios. It may be the one we first heard or grew up with or even chose from Radio Three’s ‘Building a Library’ series and it becomes the interpretation by which we tend to measure all other performances; the standard against which others are, both consciously and unconsciously, judged. And this is the challenge for the musician: to ‘convince’ us of the integrity of their interpretation: to win us over to a new way of seeing the familiar, of awakening us to new possibilities.

There was a real sense of conviction in the André Trio’s performances, a sense of meticulous attention to preparation and to the shifting roles each had to play in three very different musical dramas which gave their interpretations great integrity in all three works. It would have been difficult not to be won over by their musical arguments in all three works.

This reminds us, also, that all chamber music is based on ‘teamwork’, a democracy of shared ideas and inspirations in rehearsal that will shape and govern the outcome, whilst still remaining flexible enough to allow individual spontaneity and sudden insight and respond accordingly in performance. This latter requires extraordinary trust in one’s ‘team mates’, an almost intuitive understanding, and there was much evidence of an intense musical bond amongst these young musicians which we could all enjoy, appreciate and applaud.

If I could stretch the Olympian theme further, we might see the whole programme as something of a Triathlon; three very different musical styles, each with their own particular demands, and the André Trio showed themselves technically and intellectually prepared to meet the musical challenges of Beethoven, Fauré and Mendelssohn in their perfectly paced programme.

In short, the André Trio certainly ‘brought home gold’ in a precious and glittering performance. I hope that Apollo was honoured; we, as audience, most certainly were.

Victor Scott

Quartetto Rossi, 31 July 2016

A ‘pop-up’ quartet, when it has been chosen as thoughtfully as this, can play very well and somehow with an extra charge. When it became clear that the London Haydn Quartet were unable to play on 31 July, tickets had already been sold and Philip Britton had to find a replacement – preferably one that played on early instruments. Jonathan Byers, known to Cratfield as the cellist of the Badke Quartet, also plays ‘his other cello’ in period ensembles and was able to gather three colleagues to form a quartet.

It was evidently a really happy band and they played well together. Michael Gurevich, who would have been playing second violin with the London Haydn Quartet, for this concert played first violin. (Quartetto Rossi was chosen as the three men are redheads and, though Simone Jandl didn’t fit the description, Jonathan has a red beard!)

As music in the nineteenth century was played in ever larger spaces, more volume was required from the string instruments and their construction changed to provide extra strength; gut strings were wound with metal wire and and a new style of playing emerged.

The Quartetto Rossi were playing instruments with gut strings, the cello supported between the knees as it has no spike; they used an earlier style of bow held differently and they played with an almost complete absence of vibrato. The result is a warmer, softer sound: Nikolaus Harnoncourt described it as ‘quiet, but with a sweet sharpness’. The lack of vibrato is quite noticeable and demands greater accuracy in pitching notes.

The set of six string quartets op 20 Haydn wrote in 1772 were the culmination of twenty years’ experience of writing baryton trios, trio sonatas and two earlier sets of string quartets. As Donald Tovey put it: ‘with op 20 the historical development of Haydn’s quartets reaches its goal; and further progress is not progress in any historical sense, but simply the difference between one masterpiece and the next.’ Haydn was devising ways of valuing each of the four instruments equally, not treating one or two as soloists with an accompaniment. We heard op 20 no 3 of this set: I was delighted to hear it with fresh ears though it had been played at Cratfield by the Navarra Quartet in 2010 (on modern instruments).

The concert had started with a quartet Haydn wrote 18 years later in 1790, op 64 no 1. This quartet was familiar, though it hadn’t been played before at Cratfield.

The final quartet was one of the six quartets that Mozart dedicated to Haydn, K 428. It was written in about 1784, so almost exactly between the two Haydn quartets we had heard before the interval. I don’t remember hearing one of the Mozart ‘Haydn’ quartets in the same programme as a Haydn quartet and my initial reaction was a feeling that, in direct contrast, the Mozart sounded more assured. This was rather a setback for me as I had previously thought of myself as a committed Haydn enthusiast. Perhaps it was just that I was more familiar with the Mozart.

What was a bigger challenge was the sparing use of vibrato. Though I have several recordings of Quatuor Mosaïques playing Haydn quartets, almost all the recorded and concert performances of string quartets I have heard have been played on modern instruments. The Quartetto Rossi played with impressive ensemble and enthusiasm and one knew that this was much closer to the sound heard by Haydn and Mozart, but I still look forward to hearing performances of string quartets, even early ones by Haydn, on modern instruments. Nonetheless, the fine playing of the Quartetto Rossi convinced me that we would benefit from hearing more performances on instruments contemporary to the music being played.

Jeremy Greenwood

Heath Quartet, 17 July 2016

After the season got off to such a brilliant start two weeks ago with the excitement of Nicholas Daniel performing the specially-commissioned Fanfare for a New Roof and the Carducci Quartet in predictably fine form, the bar might seem to have been set intimidatingly high for our second concert.It did not prove so, however, for the Heath Quartet. They took that standard in their elegant stride and added a special bonus for Members and Patrons by coming to Suffolk a day early and giving a gem of a performance on Saturday evening at the Christies’ converted barn at Parham. We heard three pieces by JS Bach, transcribed for strings from his original organ compositions, and Mozart’s last string quartet, K590. The exuberant note on which the Mozart ended seemed wholly in tune with the idyllic summer evening and the charm of the setting.

Improbably, for a normal summer, the idyll was set to continue when we returned to Cratfield on Sunday. It proved to be another perfect English summer day; temperature in the low eighties, a hint of a breeze, the leaves not yet tired and the grass still fresh. On such occasions St Mary’s churchyard is at its incomparable, Betjeman best and the church positively glowing in the sunlight.

Having ended with Mozart on Saturday, we began with an earlier work of his on Sunday; the ‘Hunt’ quartet, K458. It is an exuberant piece and the lively rhythms, particularly in the first movement, brought out an aspect of performance generally to which I had not previously paid much attention; for not only did the Heath play beautifully, they moved beautifully. This was made possible because they stand to play. In full orchestral performances conductors are recognisable by their gestures, for better or for worse, but to the concertgoer they contribute little towards enjoying the variety of elements in the music. By contrast, on Sunday we saw how each of these young musicians could endorse with their movements the dynamic and emotion in their respective parts in a way that would not have been possible had they been sitting. Grace and restraint were of course needed, and these they had, so the effect in ensemble was to offer a quite unexpected, further layer of enjoyment; yet another pleasure exclusive to live performance – so away with chairs, I say. Christopher Murray, the cellist, had no choice, of course, but having his own small podium he was not lost to view.

Bartok’s quartet no 3 followed the Mozart, a leap of nearly a century and a half. It offered rather less balletic scope for the group but it was a refreshing contrast and produced some intriguing and unusual sounds, fully explained in Philip Britton’s programme notes. Philip’s introductions are now indispensable to my enjoyment of the concerts; they are building into a sort of personalised mini-Grove, scholarly but always readable, and a fine memory substitute for previous years.

The interval followed, time for tea and cakes, and especially time for further reflections on setting and the importance of adding variety to our sensory experience. It was pleasing to note that the tree seat in the shade of the copper beech, installed in memory of one of the concert founders David Holmes, was filled full circle as never before.

The highlight of the day was a truly outstanding performance of Beethoven’s quartet in B flat, op 130. I can add nothing to Philip’s description of the work except to say that it was big and completely satisfying. The Heath were playing superbly, moving elegantly and the late afternoon light through the clerestory was quite glorious; it was a perfect sum of pleasures.

Don Peacock

Carducci String Quartet with Nicholas Daniel, 3 July 2016

However dank and gloomy our summer may be, there is always the consolation of looking forward every other Sunday for twelve weeks to a concert at St Mary’s Cratfield. The standard kept up by the organisers, who give us an alternating succession of highly distinguished and relatively new but highly talented musicians, playing familiar and unfamiliar music to entertain and stimulate us, never ceases to amaze.

The opening concert of this season certainly came into the highly distinguished category, combining one of the finest string quartets around with one of the most accomplished and world-famous woodwind players of our age. It opened literally with a flourish – the first performance of a fanfare to celebrate the replacement of the lead roof of the North Aisle stolen last summer, written by a composer closely associated with Concerts at Cratfield, Elena Langer, and scored for oboe and four triangles. It is a brilliant and highly enjoyable piece, requiring prodigies of virtuosity from the principal performer who is required to produce an extraordinary range of tonal and pitch variations extending over the full range of the instrument from bottom to very top. It could not have had a more accomplished and amazing introduction and I enjoyed it hugely as obviously did the audience generally, giving performer(s| and composer a considerable ovation.

The other work in the programme new at least to me was the Concertino for oboe and string quartet named The Flaying of Marsyas, written by David Matthews and inspired by Titian’s remarkable last painting. I have to say that, while I have never seen the original, it is an artwork which I find very difficult to look at in reproduction, depicting as it does the agonising death of Marsyas, hung upside-down and skinned alive while Apollo looks on – the penalty for challenging Apollo to a musical contest and losing. However, David Matthews has been able to find an element of consolation and even compassion culminating in Marsyas’s blood being transformed into a river, a kind of apotheosis comparable perhaps to Daphne’s transformation into a laurel tree. Matthews has certainly been able to create remarkably beautiful and moving instrumental music out of the legend, depicting in his score the whole story including Marsyas’s discovery of a reed that will play music, his gradual mastery of it, his foolhardy challenge to Apollo, the competition itself, Marsyas’s terrible death which is not underplayed and his final apotheosis It may be more correctly described as written for oboe, solo violin and string trio as the Quartet’s first violin, Matthew Denton, was required to play an equal role depicting Apollo with the oboe representing Marsyas. Needless to say it received a flawless and ultimately uplifting performance. No doubt the audience’s appreciation was enhanced, as certainly was mine, by the short spoken introduction given by Matthews himself, supplementing the already very helpful programme note extracted from one written by Mike Wheeler for its performance at the Leicesster International Music Festival in 2013.

 The rest of the works in the concert were more familiar, except perhaps for the Adagio in C by Mozart written for cor anglais and three other unspecified instruments, in this case three members of the quartet, a beautiful little piece reminiscent of his choral Ave Verum Corpus. This was followed by the 11th quartet of Shostakovich, strange and melancholy, and Mozart’s Oboe Quartet, of which there is little more that can be said but that it is Mozart at his peak. The final work, played by the quartet alone, was Beethoven’s ‘Serioso’ Quartet op 95, again a strange and disturbing work which never ceases to surprise by its mixture of violence and lyricism but with its sunny cheerful ending, perhaps Beethoven saying ‘cheer up, things aren’t so bad after all’, coming as a surprise, however often it is heard.

An additional nice surprise was the very generous provision of free tea and sinfully delicious cakes provided by the parish in the interval as a gesture of thanks for the contribution of concertgoers to the cost of the roof repair. As ever, the erudite and well-written programme notes by Philip Britton for all the works other than that by David Matthews added greatly to our appreciation of the music.

 Altogether a really splendid opening to the season which promises many other delights to come..

 John Sims

Cavaleri Quartet + Bart LaFollette, 13 September 2015

This Sunday afternoon concert on 13 September 2015 was the final one of the six-concert season which Concerts at Cratfield put on at the beautifully compact and very old St Mary’s church, just outside the village, throughout the summer months on a fortnightly basis.  The 2015 season has been an outstanding success, with a variety of interesting programmes, committed performances and enthusiastic audiences.  But perhaps the best of all was left until last Sunday with a mouthwatering programme, including two string quartet masterpieces from different eras in the first half, followed after the interval by possibly the most beloved and celebrated string quintet (with two cellos) of the whole repertoire.  The damp weather did not lessen the anticipation of a satisfying musical experience and the church was absolutely full.

String quartets sound exceptionally good in the acoustics of the church; the Cavaleri Quartet were no exception to the high standards of quartet playing Cratfield audiences have been privileged to experience, season after season.  Although the quartet’s cellist, Reinoud Ford, was a guest of the group, his playing was outstanding throughout and the quartet had a togetherness vibe about them that communicated itself with relaxed pleasure to the audience.

The opening quartet was Mozart in C K465 (unusually, all three works in this concert were in the same key – C major).  The quartet is known as the ‘Dissonance’, as the opening introduction sounds like music from a much later period – unsettled and key-free.  The Cavaleris immediately created an otherworldly atmosphere of this strange opening and headed into the main allegro with playing of crisp rhythmic articulation.  The second movement’s andante cantabile was played in a stately flowing tempo, which was beautifully done.  Following a punchy menuetto and a lively trio section with some lovely cello playing, the finale’s allegro molto zipped along with a well chosen tempo, and full marks to the quartet for slightly speeding up the tempo for the coda , which made for an overall  well balanced satisfying performance of a superb quartet.

The Szymanowski Quartet no 1, much less well known than either the Mozart or the Schubert, is to my mind a fabulous piece by an underrated composer who wrote one of the greatest operas of the 20th century, King Roger – plus orchestral, choral and instrumental works of a hypnotic original quality, that go straight to the heart.  The quartet has a hugely difficult first violin part, playing continuous high notes above the bridge, especially in the first movement.  Martyn Jackson, the first violin, played them effortlessly and beautifully.  The first movement has a feeling in parts of longing – reminiscent of Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde. The frequent indicated tempo changes were handled well and the double forte sections of the movement, plus the triple forte of the last bars, sounded magnificent in the Church’s acoustics, and it was hard to believe that only four string players were creating such an overwhelming effect!  The 2nd movement had some rich ripe playing – high 1st violin again, plus some lovely solo 2nd violin playing.  One small criticism would be that the score is marked attacca (no break) between the 2nd and 3rd movements, which the Cavaleri’s ignored; but maybe they made the decision to pause between the movements for technical or tuning reasons? The 3rd movement is more in the neo-classical style – whilst the first two movements have reminiscences of composers such as Scriabin, Richard Strauss and Debussy, the last movement is definitely in Bartók territory.  Again, some overwhelming triple forte chords towards the end of the quartet, which made one’s hair stand on end – but the work actually ends quietly in triple pianissimo.  A work, then, of huge contrasts in its short 20 minutes of playing time: beautiful lyrical sensual writing, interposed with great dramatic outbursts.  The Cavaleris were certainly more than up to the task and it certainly hit the spot!

Following the interval and the usual excellent tea and cake refreshments, we heard the climax of the concert, and possibly of the whole season – Schubert’s great C major string quintet D956 – with the added second cello.  Bartholomew LaFollette joined the quartet as the extra cello but actually played the 1st cello part; the quartet’s guest cellist, Reinoud Ford, played the 2nd cello part.  Perhaps because the principal four players were already warmed up by playing the first half, whilst the 2nd cellist was sitting it out on a damp afternoon, LaFollette seemed slightly ill at ease communicating with the other four players and was having problems tuning his instrument – but things soon settled down for an excellent performance of this much loved masterpiece.  What can one say about the piece that’s not already been said so many times?  I would just add that the world would be a poorer place without it.  The Cavaleris set a good opening tempo to the first movement’s allegro ma non troppo and played seamlessly into the gorgeous second subject melody.  Although it’s a long movement I was still disappointed that they did not observe the repeat of the opening section.  The development was played at high intensity – and by this time all five players were fully engaged with the music and with each other.  The players had the confidence to play the beautiful second movement opening theme with the utmost quietness and sustained intimacy, which made the dramatic middle section convey the ‘cry for help’, which often appears in Schubert’s late music, most effective.  The players brought out the ‘gemütlich’ melody of the third movement trio and slowed it down nicely to give it that authentic Viennese lilt, whilst the main scherzo was played with crisp sonority.  The finale, which has less angst than the previous movements, is nevertheless full of beautiful music and has a cracking finish.  I’m pleased that the Cavaleris distinguished between the più allegro and più presto final pages of this wonderful quintet and ended with an exemplary triple forte flourish.

We look forward to the 2016 season with great anticipation!

David Mintz

Aquinas Piano Trio + Sarah-Jane Bradley

This fourth concert in the Concerts at Cratfield 2015 season featured three works, all piano quartets and all new to Cratfield.

The first was Mozart’s Piano quartet in E flat (K493), the second of the composer’s piano quartets.  Mozart had invented the form, in which a viola is added to a piano trio (or a piano to a string trio, depending how you look at it), but abandoned the genre when his first piano quartet (in G minor K478) received a lukewarm reception in 1785 for being too difficult for domestic performance in the salon.  In contrast, at Cratfield in 2015, performed by the accomplished Aquinas Piano Trio with the first rate viola player, Sarah-Jane Bradley, the work was warmly received, and deservedly so.  The first movement, brimming with a variety of lyrical themes and tempi more typical of a Mozart piano concerto, was delivered with assured balance and playfulness, the quick witted, close-coupled dialogue between the strings set against a cascade of arpeggios and rapid scale notes on the piano.  The larghetto delivered simpler, achingly beautiful and intense lyrical interludes, in A flat.  Rounded off by a pacey finale, the overall performance was nimble, engaging and satisfying.

The second work of the afternoon was a relatively short piano quartet, again in three movements, by the prominent American composer and academic, Walter Piston (1894-1976).  The first movement barely paused for breath, and built to an exciting, sometimes nightmarish, climax, albeit sensitively rendered by the performers, and with excellent balance.  In parts of the first movement, but most particularly in the closing bars of the finale, the performers perfectly caught the composer’s sense of humour, so ultimately meeting with a warm reception from what might otherwise have been a wary audience.

The triumph of the afternoon, however, was Brahms’ Piano quartet no 3 in C minor.   Composed over 20 years (but firmly parked in a drawer, unfinished, for much of that time), the piano quartet was the first of three to be begun, in 1854, but the last to be completed.  This meant that Brahms himself had reservations about the coherence of the work (‘half old, half new – the whole thing isn’t worth much!’, he said), parts of which he substantially rewrote, even altering the tonality by a semitone from C sharp minor.   The first movement remains unabashedly romantic, the work of a tortured 20 year old; whilst the Finale is the assured work of a mature composer.  Notwithstanding the chronology of its composition, and the composer’s own reservations, the outcome was, in the hands of the Aquinas and Sarah-Jane Bradley, a cohesive rendering.  The musicians’ collective heart was firmly in this work, and their fluent, spirited and engaging performance won over the Cratfield audience.

Rachel Booth

Navarra String Quartet, 2 August 2015

On Sunday 2 August at St Mary’s Cratfield, the Navarra String Quartet gave us a technically brilliant and sensitive performance of three very different quartets across the twentieth century. Demonstrating the best of ensemble playing, they revelled in the challenging, tight rhythmic sections in all three pieces, while responding to the voice of each composer and to each musician’s solo moments.

 ‘I have always dreamed that my music would be heard in the places where unhappy people are gathered,’ wrote Latvian composer Pēteris Vasks and this encapsulates the raw emotion and thoughtful mood of his String Quartet no 3 (1995). The tentative pizzicato of the Moderato led to the full-bodied, reflective playing of the cello and established the strong communication between the four players that lies at the core of their musicianship. The contrasting Allegro energico provided the opportunity for the group to display their thrilling technical expertise. The triumphant yet pensive movement led us to the climax with a single note left hanging in the silence. In the Adagio the lamenting waves of the music plumbed the depths of loss. The balance the group achieved shone through in the controlled and restrained crescendo expressing exquisite pain. The delicate birdsong of the final movement and the contrasting sections of peaceful and uplifting calm, against the dramatic, frantic bowing gave hope and energy to the world of sadness created by Vasks. This evocative piece gave voice to the experience of deep sorrow and contrasted effectively with Britten’s more personal expression of emotion as he neared the end of his life.

Peter Pears said of the Britten’s third and final string quartet, written in 1975, ‘of a preferred beauty more touching than anything else, radiant, wise, new, mysterious’. The interplay between the four instruments created an immediate intensity in the opening of this five-movement quartet. The viola and cello provided a strong, melodic ground on which the violins could display their frolicking dance. This pairing was repeated in the stronger, fast moving Ostinato which led to the plaintive and soaring violin solo, where amazing technical skill created a sound extruded from the instrument in a radiant purity. The vibrant, lively Burlesque brought us down to earth before we moved into the final movement with the mournful voice of the cello leading to solos for each instrument. An insistent heartbeat rhythm drew us inexorably to the end; a triumphant climax of the bells, then silence. The mystery of this piece was captured perfectly in the quartet’s mature ensemble playing.

Moving back in time to the start of the twentieth century, we found ourselves on a sunny Sunday afternoon in the middle of a French impressionist painting as we listened to Ravel’s String Quartet in F (1902-3). It was dedicated to Fauré, who described the last movement as ‘stunted, badly balanced, in fact a failure’, while Debussy wrote to Ravel: ‘… in the name of the gods of music and in my own, do not touch a single note you have written in your Quartet’. This creative tension is evident in the piece. The young composer wished to write this quartet in the classical tradition but the finished piece reflects the exciting and innovative period in which Ravel lived. The quartet basked in the romantic melody of the opening motif, which was repeated in the third and fourth movements. They moved effortlessly from the pizzicato, spirited and effervescent sections to the more lyrical, expressive passages. The opportunity this piece gives for elegant, pensive playing was fully exploited and explored, particularly by the viola. The final section, Vif et agité, with its transition from delicate to frantic, dramatic passages then to the powerfully lyrical, presented a demanding technical challenge which the quartet attacked with relish.

The Navarra Quartet combines technical brilliance with a fine musical sensitivity to the voice of the composer and his music. A fantastic way to spend a Sunday afternoon!

Lin Le Versha

Gallicantus, 19 July 2015

I have often wondered what it is that distinguishes English church music of the late Renaissance: what is it that sets it apart from the polyphonic lingua franca of the period across the rest of Europe? I have come to the conclusion that it might have something to do with ‘soul’. If the music of Palestrina, for example, is the music of angels – ethereal, cerebral, ascetic, of the spirit – then the sacred works of composers like Tallis and Byrd are somehow more concerned with earthier passions, grounded in man’s experience of divinity. They speak the language less of a distant and transcendent God than of a very human one, immediate and incarnate, who is embedded in our joys and sorrows.

Thus, on first seeing the programme to be presented on Sunday 19 July 2015 by Gallicantus for Concerts at Cratfield, subtitled Sweet Laments of the English Renaissance, I had some misgivings. How might we, as an audience, be so captivated over a period of almost two hours that we could remain emotionally engaged with a programme devoted almost exclusively to the themes of lamentation, separation and desolation?

I need not have worried! From the opening of Tallis’ first setting of Te Lucis ante terminum it was clear that here was an ensemble that could take us with total conviction on a journey into the depths of ‘soul’. Within moments I had the strangely disorientating feeling that we were being privileged to be experiencing less a performance than a direct portal into the musical imagination and spiritual anguish of the foremost composers of the Tudor period. Perhaps it had something to do with the unobtrusive restraint and poise of the ensemble’s ‘stage presentation’ which allowed the music to speak so eloquently and directly. (Much of the programme was ‘un-conducted’, suggesting a level of trust and confidence that only comes from the most meticulous preparation and a deep and shared musical understanding amongst the members of the ensemble.) Perhaps, too, it came from the seemingly effortless delivery of some of the most demanding music in the choral repertoire, not least the hugely challenging setting of the Lamentations by Robert Whyte with its expansive contrapuntal lines, awkward tessituras and extended vocal ranges. What was certain was that here was a company of five extraordinarily gifted and dedicated singers who were totally immersed, both emotionally and intellectually, in their chosen repertoire and committed to presenting every subtlety and nuance of the music with a passion and depth of understanding that I have seldom heard before in live performance.

Time and space do not allow me an in-depth appraisal of every piece presented; and to single out highlights in such a holistically integrated performance might seem to diminish the whole. Were I to select special moments it might only be to present microcosms of Gallicantus’ admirable attention to detail in respect of ensemble, balance, tuning, colour, diction and overall musical integrity throughout the whole programme. Not least among those magical moments were the wonderfully wrought contrapuntal melismas on the letters of the Hebrew alphabet which precede and encapsulate the mood of each verse in both settings of the Lamentations. Each akin to a beautifully illustrated capital from an illuminated manuscript, Gallicantus painted every intricate line with the most exquisite colours.

Whilst Tallis’ and Whyte’s settings of the Lamentations draw us into the text with enchanting ‘preludes’, Byrd’s setting of Tristitia et anxietas leaves the richest jewels till last. Having pierced our hearts throughout, using almost every device in the musical language of the period to paint the grief of the text, Byrd ‘turns the knife’ through two ravishing ‘codettas’ at the close of each verse. I am in no doubt that in such a carefully planned and balanced programme Gallicantus would have recognised exactly the effect this choice as a closing piece would have on the audience. The ensuing moments of reverential silence before the richly deserved applause spoke volumes about an ensemble who can present such beautiful music in such a thoroughly engaging, passionate and polished way.  ‘Awesome’ is a word that is used too lightly these days; in the context of this concert it is entirely appropriate.

Victor Scott

Postscript: During the interval I took a walk around the churchyard and found the following inscription on a beautifully sculpted gravestone, echoing, it seemed to me, the theme of the concert: ‘Look around and cherish the beauty’. Perhaps it is in the deepest sorrow that our hearts are opened to the highest beauty.

Visontay-Walton-Johnson piano trio, 5 July 2015

This first concert in the new season, on Sunday 5 July 2015, was dedicated to the memory of Linda Holmes, the surviving Founder Patron of Concerts at Cratfield whose death earlier in 2015 followed only a few months after that of the other, her husband David, in 2014. Her memory has also been marked by a beautifully crafted and inscribed wooden bench by the south wall of the church, where attenders of the concerts and visitors to the church may sit and enjoy the view over the countryside.

The concert itself was also a fitting tribute to the vision of David and Linda Holmes when they started the concerts, initially in Walpole in the early 1980s but moving to Cratfield shortly afterwards. And to those who have taken up and continued that vision in these series of concerts which, for me at least and despite strong competition from further east, are one of the highlights of the summer months in this area.

This Trio, violinist Zsolt-Tihamér Visontay, cellist Jamie Walton and pianist Adam Johnson, comprises players distinguished as performers in their own right who also meet to perform in the North York Moors Chamber Music Festival each year. They obviously know each other well and play superbly as a group as well as individually.

The programme started with Beethoven’s Piano Trio in E flat op 70 no 2. I must say that this work came as a surprise to me and a very pleasant one. Less well-known than its companion op 70 no 1 (‘The Ghost’), it appeared to me to carry pre-echoes of Beethoven’s greatest piano trio known as ‘The Archduke’, also in E flat and written some three years later. Its structure is unusual with no slow movement but instead a set of variations marked allegretto (shades of the second movement of the Seventh Symphony). There are also some very strange harmonic and melodic twists and turns, as if Beethoven were using the work to experiment with some ideas almost in private; both op 70 trios were first performed in the salon of the woman who may or may not have been ‘The Immortal Beloved’, so were there perhaps hidden messages? Probably not.

The second work was A Voyage to Fair Isle by Sir Peter Maxwell Davies, a typically evocative and atmospheric piece, generally gentle in tone but twice interrupted by vigorous Strathspeys by the violin and cello. I found it immensely attractive and would like to hear it again soon.

Third was Haydn’s Piano Trio in D minor Hob xv:23, another work unfamiliar to me but there are so many delightful chamber works by Haydn that it is difficult to keep up. Typically quirky, it starts with a set of variations instead of the conventional sonata-form movement and ends with a catchy and unexpectedly brief German dance finale.

Last was one of my own all-time favourites, Ravel’s Piano Trio in A minor. Many years in the writing but completed in a hurry at the outbreak of WW1, it was given its first performance at a Red Cross benefit concert in Paris in 1915. There is little useful that I can say about it in a few words except that, to me, it is one of the very greatest chamber works of the twentieth century, and that, especially in as outstanding a performance as it received here, is always an experience to be treasured.

In summary, an excellent concert by a group I look forward very much to hearing again if they can be gathered together. Next time (on Sunday 19 July) something completely different: English Renaissance motets by the 5-man a cappella group Gallicantus. Not to be missed.

John Sims