Delving the depths of sorrow: Barbara Hannigan conducts the Royal Concertgebouw

Barbara Hannigan is one of the most inspiring figures in classical music today. It’s not just her dramatic presence on stage, or her infectious hunger to embrace new or neglected repertoire, but her intrinsic understanding of humanity and her ability to connect so readily and effectively with an audience, leaving no stone unturned. This week’s collaboration with the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra built on her 2022 conducting debut with them. Helped by innovative programming choices, Hannigan’s vocal and conducting skills seamlessly melted into one and became a theatrical endeavour. 

Hannigan centred her programme around Richard Strauss’ emotional tone poem, Death and Transfiguration. In doing so, she obliquely posed the question: How do we imagine our own death? Not an everyday question, but one which perhaps prompted the 24-year-old Strauss to contemplate man’s final moments on earth as life flashes before your eyes.

Inside the Concertgebouw, uncertainty reigned, ominous double basses threatened and, with the timpani’s thuds, man’s battle with death commenced. The RCO positively brimmed. Hannigan found the length of line, carefully building climaxes that plunged the depths of sorrow. She allowed the music to breathe, to give death the reverence it deserves and for Strauss’ flowing fragments, turning this way and that, to find a natural rhythm and delve deep into the soul.

With each iteration of the much sought after transfiguration theme climbing closer to eternal glory, the doors of heaven opened. Hannigan’s arms outstretched, almost sacrificial in her plea. As the bassoons and tam-tam pushed those still seeking solace over the precipice towards eternal glory and ever-lasting life, Hannigan gave the RCO their greatest gift – she allowed them to shine. The floor beneath our feet trembled and the seats shuddered in resplendent glory.

Hannigan likewise channelled an inner sadness in Haydn’s Farewell Symphony where the Allegro’s second theme revealed a rarely heard frailty and vulnerability, leaving a lonesome violin bearing the pain of the world. This feeling of introspection continued into the Adagio, and only really found respite in the Presto when fiendishly fast passagework kept all on their toes. Where oboist Ivan Podyomov led, others followed as one by one, the musicians departed, just as Haydn intended, leaving two lone violins on stage in gainful harmony. Just divine.

Proceedings had commenced with the Dutch premiere of Tehran-based composer Golfam Khayam’s I am not a tale to be told, based on a Persian love poem and commissioned by Hannigan in 2023, sung in both French and Persian. Falling figures and intensely emotional silences gave way to soaring vocal dissonances and extended techniques seamlessly fusing Persian and Western tonalities. Hannigan's delicate top notes were never forced or overpowered by the thick and largely improvised orchestral texture.

The emotional journey continued as distant string rustlings pre-empted the ensuing drama of Sibelius’ Luonnotar. Starting simply, we learnt of the wretched mermaid’s life, swimming alone in the ocean for 800 years, not a soul in sight. All changed with Hannigan’s desperate pleas, a world away from Sibelius’ more familiar symphonic works. Striking dissonances plunged the depths of sorrow before vocal screams of “No! No!” filled the sky – each unique, and each with a vengeful kick. The mermaid’s quaking and splintered limbs provided the dramatic climax of the evening and the reason why every young singer should grasp the opportunity to see Hannigan live in concert. Words, music and emotion became one.