Haydn’s The Creation isn’t just music about the making of worlds, it’s music that straddles worlds. Its Baroque lineage, specifically the music of Handel, is manifestly obvious, reinforced on this occasion by the presence of a harpsichord at the centre of the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra (rather than, as sometimes preferred, a fortepiano). But Kazuki Yamada also wanted to lean into its forward-looking aspects, giving numerous sections of the work a distinct Romantic quality.
This worked wonders in the famous opening Representation of Chaos which, in more straightforward readings, sounds anything but chaotic. Here, Yamada gave weight and emphasis to its strange surges and sharp accents, the latter of which sounded genuinely shocking. An unsettling mix of volatility and gentle floating lyricism, it was superbly effective.
But of course, The Creation is first and foremost a Classical work, and what followed was like being launched straight into an opera buffa, with James Way almost biting at the mention of “hell’s spirits”. Likewise Ashley Riches was like an overzealous meteorologist in his account of the nascent forms of weather, matched by Yamada whipping up the CBSO to supercharged levels of animation. Carolyn Sampson brought us back to earth, and back to the Baroque, in an exuberantly Handelian reading of “The marv'lous work beholds amazed”.
What followed was an increasingly subtle intermingling of these, from Haydn’s perspective, past, present and future musical aesthetics. Lingering rubato and a pastoral atmosphere (hinting heavily at Beethoven) ran through the descriptions of landscape. Over-egged but pleasant sweetness coated “With verdure clad the fields appear”, with Sampson seemingly wanting to hold the words “the healing plant” on her lips for as long as possible, while the orchestra turned their rhythms into a lightly effervescent courtly dance. Yamada practically punched the air in a deliriously unruly “Awake the harp, the lyre awake!”, before turning on a dime for Uriel’s recitative about the rising sun. Initially grand, even momentous, at the mention of “softer beams and milder light steps” the CBSO shifted into the most gorgeous delicacy, with Way now singing us a lullaby. From this we were bustled into a total Haydn-Handel mashup for the end of Part 1, with orchestra and chorus alike bringing stunning clarity to the rapid contrapuntal lines.
Part 2 was made a showcase for Haydn’s depictions of the burgeoning natural world. In “On mighty pens uplifted soars” Sampson literally cooed and soared with the eagle and lark. Especially lovely here was the way this became an extended duet between soprano and flute, with Marie-Christine Zupancic exquisitely shaping the nightingale’s song. Yamada’s mischievous streak – evident in many CBSO performances – led to him, in references to lion, tiger and “heavy beasts”, giving free rein to the low register instruments to really let rip, almost sounding like proto-Berlioz in the trombones’ stentorian pedal notes. Though entertaining, this really showed off Haydn’s progressive orchestrational touches, with the bass-heavy lyricism of “And God created great whales” an especially striking example.
Everything turned with the creation of man and woman. Throughout Part 3, having been cheekily introduced by Way, the other two soloists were like loved-up teenagers eager for future adventures, Sampson transfixed in reverie while Riches was all excitement and wonder. Whereupon we were back once again in comic opera-land, Classical to the max, with Yamada making it like the upbeat closing aria when all loose ends have been resolved. The last traces of tenderness steadily grew into ever more effulgence, soloists, chorus and orchestra united in a vast, almost violently ecstatic paean of full-blooded joy.