“See you in Birmingham!” chirped Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla at the end of her first BBC Proms concert in charge of the CBSO. Well, it's taken nearly two years, Mirga, but I finally made it, tempted by a creatively-programmed festival to mark the centenary of the death of Claude Debussy. However, this wasn't a case of anniversary composer saturation. Of the three CBSO concerts I attended on this second weekend, there were only four orchestral scores from the pen of Debussy himself. This was also a reflection on Debussy's legacy, his impact on composers right up to the present day.
Concerts were themed under titles. Sacred Debussy led us from Bach to Messiaen, before an evocative performance of Le Martyre de saint Sébastien; Exotic Debussy took Britten and Ravel on tour to the Far East before the triptych, Images; Natural Debussy programmed music by George Benjamin, whom Gražinytė-Tyla dubs “the grandchild of Debussy”, before a thrilling La Mer. The weekend also included chamber recitals and featured performers from the Royal Birmingham Conservatoire, the CBS Youth Orchestra and the Birmingham Contemporary Music Group – a truly city-wide celebration. With several programmes only an hour long, schools projects, cheap ticket prices and unreserved seating, here was a model of how to make classical music accessible to the widest possible audience.
Gražinytė-Tyla is an hypnotic conductor. At times, she barely grips the baton, tracing fluid shapes in the air to conjure up La Cathédrale engloutie from the deep. At others, she flicks her wrist and slices her baton horizontally, or crouches on her haunches and then stretches high, leaping off her feet at one point in an exciting conclusion to La Mer, salty spray flung around the hall. Yet quieter moments drew the listener in, teasing out the CBSYO woodwind lines evocatively in the central Parfums de la nuit movement of Ibéria, while the veiled string ecstasies in Saint Sébastien, along with Ilse Eerens' silvery soprano, were beguiling. The sparse textures of George Benjamin's Ringed by the Flat Horizon created a haze of high strings and woodwinds, breaking into a percussive thunderstorm before the piece was dramatically curtailed after a cellist fainted.