Artikel von Roy Westbrook

Even in a flawed performance, The Song of the Earth fills the hearer with its life-affirming carpe diem message.

The LSO saved their best till last, for La Valse was superb in both sensuous atmosphere and devastating execution.

Higgins never forgets that the concerto form has a playful element

Taking its theme from Beethoven's Diabelli Variations, Bonn's Beethoven Week focused on classical variations in a wide-ranging festival programme. 

On top of all his skill and eloquence throughout, Rafał Blechacz still sounded born to play Chopin.

Hugo Wolf once said “Brahms cannot exult”. He should have heard this.

When did three such luminaries last grace the same concert, let alone the same first half?

The BBC Singers sounded as ecstatically joyful in the first three parts of Bach's seasonal offering in Chelsea. 

Dorothea Röschmann has a soaring silvery line when needed (she is a famous Marschallin).

The Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra mark the Bernstein centenary with a performance of Chichester Psalms in Chichester Cathedral itself. 

Elizabeth Atherton sang with a keening intensity, and gave a voice to every grieving mother and child.

Here was singing and playing to live long in the memory.

Mozart's final three symphonies make for a brilliant opening to the Australian Chamber Orchestra's London residency. 

Julius Drake’s torrential postlude capped an evening in which he had been superb throughout.

It was especially effective to hear the line “One ever hangs where shelled roads part” with the vast hanging crucifix with its portrait of Christ dominating the scene behind.

In Bruckner Six, Salonen simply jumped the red lights and kept driving.

Not since Monty Python has there been more fun with a chorus of lumberjacks.

Auguin conducted as if he really believes in this evergreen work, which was wonderful to hear in the composer’s rather overlooked anniversary year.

This was more stadium rock than stuffy opera house, lighting as ‘metaphor made real’ as the lovers were – literally – star-struck, blinded by love.

There is a reason that Butterfly has the highest blub factor in the repertory, for it is not only for Cio-Cio-San that we weep, but for ourselves.