At the BBC Proms, Pekka Kuusisto and the Norwegian Chamber Orchestra were joined by singer Katarina Barruk, one of under 20 remaining speakers of Ume Sámi, one of the languages of indigenous Sámi people from northern Scandinavia. A selection of "joiks", the Sámi form of vocal expression, were interspersed with a variety of works. Barruk spoke of the significance of her presence in the Royal Albert Hall – "wear your heritage and language as a beautiful cloak, feel like a queen or king" – with music’s power to resist oppression and assert identity the evening’s unifying theme.
Opening with Ruhttuo (Boreal Forest), Barruk’s striking voice shifted from pure tone to nasal growls, then high and wispy, across a huge range. The NCO followed with Tippett’s Divertimento on Sellinger’s Round, Kuusisto’s silvery solo weaving in and out of the slithery strings. Electric guitar scratches and scrapes ushered in Miärralándda (Coastal Lands), with extremes of range and ethereal tones from Barruk, droning strings and gently driving drumbeat. Then Philip Glass’ insistent rhythmic pulse and dynamic swells provided contrast, before Barruk returned us to the world of Niäguoh (Dreams), her voice frail against the gentle strings. In Hannah Kendall’s Weroon Weroon the solo violin’s strings are bound with dreadlock cuffs, resulting in pitch distortions and unpredictability of tone. Kuusisto’s glassy rapid tremolo buzzed and scraped, emitting strange harmonics, and rising and falling in dynamic, before grinding to a halt, adding to the evening’s diversity of sound worlds.
Sådna Jahttá (She Says), the most moving joik of the evening, tells of Barruk’s great-grandmother’s mother leaving to secure permission for her people to stay in their homeland. Barruk’s voice rose high over lamenting strings, then fell into low creaks, with a clear exhortation to never surrender. The NCO’s response, Reger’s arrangement of Bach, was tender and gentle, with a warm string sound. Reger’s take loses the text’s depth of meaning, sweetening the command to bewail man’s sins, but that’s down to Reger, not the performance here. Finally, in Caroline Shaw’s The Beech Tree, pizzicato strings gathered like birds in the tree (Shaw’s favourite spot in Dumbarton Oaks’ garden) before the full string sound reflected the 80-year-old tree’s grandeur.
The second half’s quirky, tartan costumes were designed for the NCO’s acclaimed "DSCH" show, which included Shostakovich’s Chamber Symphony, Barshai’s arrangement of the String Quartet no. 8. But before that tonight came Pärt’s Fratres, both works performed from memory. Kuusisto began incredibly quietly with its rapid string-crossing arpeggios. Drum and wood block introduced the bass drone, and the NCO moved together with instinctive ensemble, the violins swaying as one. Kuusisto’s solo variations sang out with clarity and improvisatory expression.
The Shostakovich is a work of deep despair, but also anger and violence. Kuusisto and the NCO let rip with the fourth movement’s violent stabbing knocks, although these felt occasionally rushed, rather than evenly hammered out. The second movement's DSCH motif and wild dance and the third's macabre waltz were suitably terrifying. In contrast, Kuusisto’s solo towards the end had perilously little bow contact, making for a shaky, fragile cry, leaving the full strings to deliver the final resolution. How to follow that? Well, Kuusisto said all they had was "peace and love", so he strummed his violin and whistled John Lennon’s Imagine over a low hum from the band, the audience tentatively joining in. A sweet but low-key end to an evening so full of thought-provoking content. Is peace and love really all we have left to say? How about Shostakovich’s anger, or Barruk’s call to never surrender?
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