A shrewd programme and choice of soloist made for a stirring performance to a near sell-out audience for this Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Concert.
Sheku Kanneh-Mason has carved a niche as an audience favourite in many halls around the UK – a handy superpower in attracting large and youthful audiences. Here this was smartly used to ensure that a lesser-known corner of the repertoire, Mieczysław Weinberg’s Cello Concerto in C minor, received its rightful attention. Though Weinberg’s music has enjoyed a resurgence in recent years, the Cello Concerto remains a relative obscurity, with just four reviews registered on this platform to date. Written in 1948, the concerto was astutely consigned to the desk drawer until 1957, when anti-formalist doctrines had been adequately relaxed following the 1953 death of Stalin.
Ostensibly cast in four movements, the latter two linked by a cadenza, the concerto is in relatively familiar 30-minute proportions, notwithstanding a few curiosities of instrumentation. There was nothing predictable or formulaic about this utterly spellbinding intensity of this performance, however. From his first entry to the last pages, Kanneh-Mason played with searing passion and focus in his sound, and even at the concerto’s quietest moments – most memorably the exquisitely gently floated top B in the first movement – there seemed to be colossal energy in the music. Elsewhere, there was frenetic vigour in the Scherzo and breathtaking cadenza, while also finding space to accompany woodwind solos sensitively. From the orchestra, the trumpet solos stood out as especially virtuosic. This was a devastating experience, making the strongest possible case for the work to be heard more often.
The remainder of the programme was merely excellent in comparison. Samuel Coleridge-Taylor’s richly tuneful Ballade opened proceedings with strikingly crisp woodwind figures, followed in turn by rollicking and sumptuous passages full of wild and fresh energy. The later performance of Elgar’s First Symphony was similarly high-octane. Andrew Manze is a remarkably demonstrative conductor, seeming to signal the character of almost every cue with some flick of a wrist of twitch of an eyebrow. With tempos generally brisk and dynamics loud for the symphony, the effect here was to create a bold reading, even if it was occasionally at the expense of some textural clarity.
Once the famous A flat major string theme had settled into its tread, the remainder of the first movement panned out with high drama at every turn. So too did the Scherzo, which fizzed with electricity and pomp, propelled by brassy acrobatics. More space was given to the eloquent slow movement, before the finale seemed to charge ever onwards with almost uncontainable spark. It was exhilarating, if slightly exhausting, and fully deserved its handsome ovation.
