Kirill Karabits is in the middle of a run of Boris Godunov performances in Zurich, where technological miracles allow him, the orchestra and chorus to be piped into the opera house from a rehearsal studio 1km away. Perhaps utilising Skype could be the solution for those conductors – Karabits included – prevented from being with their regular charges due to quarantine restrictions. For the second week in a row, Karabits had to forego waving his arms around in front of the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra, but his fingerprints were all over this fascinating programme, conducted in his stead by Martyn Brabbins.
In recent seasons, Karabits has taken audiences on a voyage to his Ukrainian homeland in his Voices from the East series which has turned the spotlight on seldom heard composers such as Boris Lyatoshinsky and the Armenian Avet Terterian. Alexander Arutiunian’s Trumpet Concerto is relatively well known on the concert circuit – tonight’s soloist, Chris Avison, played it two years ago at the Bournemouth Pavilion – but the name Théodore Akimenko is unlikely to ring too many bells.
Feodor Akimenko (he presumably adopted Théodore when he spent his final 19 years living in Paris) was born in 1876 and was a student of Mily Balakirev and Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov. From 1903, he taught at the St Petersburg Conservatory, where he was Igor Stravinsky’s first composition teacher. Akimenko’s Angel, an attractive “poem-nocturne” composed in 1912, based on a poem by Mikhail Lermontov, opened the programme. Immediately, one could detect Rimsky’s influence, from the crystalline orchestration to the sinuous clarinet melody near the start. Brabbins teased out the delicacy of the score persuasively, the BSO’s strings on silky form.
Arutiunian’s Trumpet Concerto is from a completely different era. Like his fellow Armenian composer Aram Khachaturian, Arutiunian knew when to toe the party line and in 1949 was awarded the Stalin Prize. Also like Khachaturian, his music has a boisterous, upbeat quality. Avison, the BSO’s principal trumpet, dashed through the faster sections with nimble articulation and clean tone, a polished sound rather than the abrasive Soviet brass school of yore, the muted sections smokily “bluesy”. It’s a real crowd-pleaser and the small, socially-distanced audience in Poole’s Lighthouse lapped it up, as – I trust – did the considerably larger online attendance which had stumped up their £6 (a real bargain).