A measured and coherent Alpine Symphony from The Hallé and Sir Mark Elder

Sir Mark Elder’s first concert back in Manchester in his new Conductor Emeritus role with The Hallé saw him tasked with the safe navigation of Strauss’ monumental Alpine Symphony, alongside the world premiere of Huw Watkins’ Concerto for Orchestra.

In acknowledgement of the presence of the orchestra’s Royal Patron, the Duchess of Edinburgh, the evening began with a curiously condensed and muted account of the national anthem, ending rather abruptly before anyone could be sent victorious. The Watkins premiere followed directly. Little clue was given in the concert programme as to the motivations and inspirations for the new work, which is cast in 20-minute, three-movement form and scored for an orchestra of fairly standard proportions (albeit an expanded trumpet section). There was a sense of festive ebullience through much of the music, though its credentials as a ‘concerto for orchestra’ were less clear, as opposed to, for example, a three-movement suite. 

In the context of tonight’s concert programme, the freshness of the opening lines for violin and flute were immediately reminiscent of Alpine pastures, while elsewhere the first movement combined 6/8 sparkle with fluid legato. The emotional heart of the work came in the second movement, where three slow and nostalgic passages sandwiched two scherzoid Allegros. In the former, the batonless Elder meticulously shaped some richly elegant string playing. The finale zipped along with rhythmic energy into a heady conclusion, prompting an enthusiastic and prolonged audience reception. Having already produced two symphonies and a fanfare, one hopes that the relationship between Watkins and The Hallé will continue to blossom in future seasons.

In preface to the second half, Elder stressed the philosophical qualities of the Alpine Symphony, in contrast to the literality of the sights and sounds one passes during a mountain ascent and descent. Avoiding the trap of simply flicking through a photo album of various attractive scenes, here the emphasis was on the journey as a whole, with rigorous structure seemingly applied via careful pacing. While there was no shortage of exhilarating drama on the summit or in the storm, there was equally no sense of indulging in prolonged basking in individual moments. 

Nonetheless, there was some exceptional individual playing to admire in addition to the high drama of those big set-piece passages, above all in the most exquisitely dolce oboe solo just before the summit and the horn solo after the storm. The storm itself was suitably cataclysmic with the combined power of organ and three thundersheets, though the use of the hall’s sound system in place of a true wind machine was baffling. Far more frustrating were the near constant and distracting movements of royal security staff, at one point walking egregiously behind the orchestra mid-symphony in order to confer with a colleague on the opposite side of the auditorium. The last minutes of the expedition, however, were suitably reverential as the music dissolved into darkness. While other readings of this work might indulge in the moment more readily, this was a hugely satisfying and coherent musical and philosophical journey.