The healing power of young musicians coming together to make music against the odds is a compelling proposition, and emotions were not far from the surface as the Palestine Youth Orchestra opened their first UK tour in Perth. Founded in 2004 by the Edward Said National Conservatory of Music, the orchestra brings young players from Palestine and the Palestinian diaspora together with a few players from host nations when on tour. With this mix of players, it is difficult to rehearse in Palestine (sadly, a trumpet player and violinist were both refused the visas required for them to leave Gaza) so the players and tutors have spent the week in Glasgow being hosted by the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland. The orchestra has a policy of featuring a mix of classical with Palestinian and Arab composers in its programming, and the appearance of the players in concert black each wearing the traditional black and white keffiyeh promised a very different musical experience.
Beethoven’s Fidelio with its story of hope and freedom set against repression and cruelty is played out in miniature in Leonore Overture no. 3, a fine opener for difficult times. With economical gestures, conductor Sian Edwards kept a tight rein allowing a slow build from darkness in the strings, excitingly together even in the tricky development passages, and a lovely bight flute solo. A clear offstage trumpet high up behind us heralded freedom for Fidelio and Florestan as the piece ended with the rich full orchestral sound.
Moving into Arabic mode, the orchestra was joined for three songs by Nai Barghouti, a talented young professional singer and former principal flute player with the orchestra. Ahtarifu al Huzna wal Intithar, from the musical River of Return by the Rahbani brothers, was a haunting study of grief, tears and growing up away from home (the Six-Day War in 1967 displaced over 300,000 Palestinians, many for the second time). The basses droned softly and Barghouti’s pure sinuous tones intertwined with a bassoon, then a flute against a high sustained violin before the full orchestra echoed her passion as the music died away. Bi Ridhak ya Khaliqi by Zakaria Ahmad consisted of improvised violin and oud with cello drone. A gentle and hauntingly beautiful piece, the players and singer alternated solos and were completely lost in the music, blending together perfectly. Finally, Ruddani ila Biladi by the Rahbani brothers was a song about wishing to return to one’s own country, a powerful metaphor for displaced peoples everywhere. Soft, ethereal glissandi in the strings sounded like far-off flocks of birds, and Barghouti’s voice soared as the music became a passionate Arabic oom-pah in two time with a lively bendy clarinet solo.