The crack team of Baroque specialists known as Arcangelo is a fearless pusher of boundaries, so when I saw that they would open this year’s London Festival of Baroque Music with their first-ever performance of all six Brandenburg Concertos, in a single concert, I thought it would be an occasion not to be missed. And so it proved. At Smith Square Hall they left a trail of sonic brilliance that will reverberate in the hearts of all present for some time to come. Led by their charismatic director Jonathan Cohen, the team set about their mission with an energetic exposition of their characteristic traits: an almost telepathically-transmitted style of ensemble born of innate artistry; rhythmic vibrancy; matchless phrasing; electrically-charged virtuosity; and, most tellingly, the impression that it was all effortless. A dazzling expression of concentrated creativity.
In choosing to play the concertos in reverse order no rules were being broken, and no rationale for that approach was offered. However, since I had never heard a live performance of all of them in the same concert – I suspect I was not alone in that – my curiosity was piqued. Enchantment came in wave after wave of sensual pleasures: the pulsating drive of the first movement of the Sixth, where terms like chugging and scrubbing were banished to the Gobi Desert; the effervescence of Tom Foster’s harpsichord solo in the Fifth, whose expressive touch was without affectation; the angelic carolling of recorders in the Fourth, out of which streamed arabesques of silver; the gorgeous Fabergé egg of the Third, encasing the little flame-like jewel of Colin Scobie’s violin cadenza; Neil Brough’s seraphic trumpeting weaving in, out and over the clouds of vivid harmonic fragments in the Second; and the arresting sight and sound of the horns, bells up, resounding to the deep-throated singing of Ursula Paludan Monberg and Martin Lawrence. If asked to select one of those moments for posterity I would, unhesitatingly, point to the performance of No. 3, which came immediately after the interval. Why? Because the presence of Cohen was the catalyst for an absolutely vivacious opening to the first movement – the moment the team clinched the gold medal.
I have sometimes wondered how the concertos would have been performed if the Margrave of Brandenburg had any curiosity about music. Would they have been given in a salon at his palace? Or in the palace grounds? Genre paintings of the age attest to both possibilities. In either setting it is very doubtful that the audience would have been treated to the kind of experience that Arcangelo and Cohen provided in the majestic setting of ‘Queen Anne’s Footstool’. Performances like this are things to cherish.
