Having explored much French music already this season, the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra have thought outside of the box in some creative and imaginative programming. In this concert from the countryside to the sea, from despair to elation, they explored two rarities paired with an ever-popular symphony. Working with several guest conductors, tonight’s concert was unexpectedly given by Geoffrey Paterson, a late replacement for John Wilson, who sadly has a broken arm.
Maurice Duruflé’s seldom heard orchestral suite Trois dances (1932) provided a delightful opening, handled confidently by Paterson. The beginning of Divertissement was delicate, like a ray of sunshine, giving way to a more lyrical episode. Paterson’s awareness of the textures and how to change mood and colours whilst maintaining balletic movement shone through. Danse lente, the central movement, had a sultry seductiveness reminiscent of Ravel’s Shéhérazade, with several powerful climaxes. Finally, Tambourin was played with great vigour.
Hot on her heels from Peter Grimes rehearsals, Dame Sarah Connolly was another late replacement, standing in for an indisposed Alice Coote in Chausson’s Poème de l’amour et de la mer (1893). Paterson created a sophisticated orchestral sound in La Fleur des eaux. Connolly delivered the first verse with reserve, but as the poem became more emotionally intense, so did Connolly’s performance. Throughout, she became more animated, conveying the meaning with impact, especially in the introspective and melancholic closing verses. Paterson made the most of the Interlude for orchestra which links the two songs. Connolly drove the performance of La Mort de l’amour, Paterson following her lead diligently. Here Connolly found altogether different colours to her voice — darker, but highly expressive, performed with sheer conviction. A dead silence followed in the auditorium of The Bridgewater Hall, testament to Connolly’s evocative and poised rendition. The orchestra overshadowed Connolly on several occasions, as the body of strings was perhaps one desk too many, but Connolly’s diction was pristine throughout, which made following the translation a pleasure.