No disrespect at all to the Royal Northern Sinfonia, but it was good to hear such a big band in the Glasshouse. The Hallé is beyond doubt the most civilised and most thoughtful of ensembles which, in the tradition of the great European orchestras, carries with it the spirit born of 167 years of music-making, not to mention the most voluptuous string sound I have heard in this hall for a long time. They brought with them the celebrated Mexican conductor Alondra de la Parra.
Debussy's Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune was appropriately warm and sultry, the Hallé’s lush strings leaning into the erotic, post-Wagnerian harmonies with a grace particularly welcome on a cold and damp January evening. There was a respectful balance, too, between woodwinds and strings, so essential to Debussy’s diaphanous textures.
After the interval Stravinsky’s immortal Firebird took to the air once again in a performance which concentrated on the emotional and personal elements in the story, featuring some gorgeously fragile moments in the Pantomimes. The Infernal Dance and Final Hymn were suitably flashy and, in the main, well-co-ordinated. This is an orchestra so confident of its abilities and its place in the music-making that it can play loudly (very loudly) without ever sounding crude; it was a joy to hear.
Before the interval a musical supernova exploded onto the stage at the Glasshouse. With rock god looks, hair and outfit to match, Nemanja Radulović wove a skein of spells over everyone in the hall with his thrilling, magical interpretation of Aram Khachaturian’s Violin Concerto in D minor. He drew up sounds from the very depths of his instrument and, playing high on the fingerboard, made notes of such tenderness and beauty that they were barely tones at all, rather they were thoughts made sound. Just as importantly, Radulović took this archetypal work of socialist realism and revealed the inner craft of the true composer who, without rocking the boat too much, made his accommodation with the Soviet state music of such enduring quality and depth that it is still moving – and amusing – audiences today. Radulović has charisma you could sell by the kilo and a technical proficiency equalled by very few. As an encore he gave us his own Paganini Fantasy. Stellar stuff. Between movements of the concerto, he engaged with a small child who was in danger of becoming fractious, beaming at them a smile which could have melted an iceberg.
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