One of my Mitschüler (fellow students) in my German class remarked the other day that I’m always banging on about music. I think he was more amused than offended by my preoccupation, and indeed I make no apologies for it. If you talk in German (or any other language) about that which interests you, the attendant vocabulary will stick. Still I accept it’s an obsession. Last week I blogged about a Royal Scottish National Orchestra concert, and I wouldn’t normally revisit this theme so soon. But circumstances prevail.
A dear pal of mine sent me a text on Saturday to arrange a catch-up, and during our exchange she happened to mention, almost as an afterthought, that she was going to the Glasgow Royal Concert Hall that evening because her daughter, an actor, was to be narrator in Mendelssohn’s Midsummer Night’s Dream.
Whoa!
I also had a ticket for this concert, but I had not known that Christine Steel was the actor in question. Last week, conductor Thomas Søndergȧrd had talked up the concert and merely said, “We will have an actor to narrate…” or words to that effect. I remember saying to somebody, “I wonder who they’ll book? Some thespian luvvie. It’ll be portentous, vapid, and hammy.” Talk about rank prejudice!
But now the concert had assumed a new dimension of fascination.
We began with Fanny Hensel’s Overture in C Major. Beautiful, and, I thought, rather Mendelssohnian, which may be hardly surprising as she was Felix Mendelssohn’s older sister, and they were very close. I guess Felix learned a lot from her.
Then the RSNO Youth Chorus performed James Burton’s The Lost Words. Acorn-Newt-Lark-Conker-Bluebell-Willow-Wren… All vanished from the childhood vocabulary, presumably because children favour their tablets, and virtual reality, to the great outdoors. A sobering thought. Yet the RSNO Youth Chorus’ evocation of that which we have apparently lost was so vivid that I felt there might still be hope that we have not entirely removed ourselves from the natural world. The music was immediately appealing. I’d love to hear it again.
Interval.
Then, an hour of pure delight. If I had any butterflies on behalf of my friends during the break, they were completely dispelled when Ms Steel entered, took her bow, and took her seat beside the conductor’s rostrum. Carine Tinney, Soprano, and Rosamond Thomas, Mezzo, occupied positions behind the orchestra. Ms Steel has remarkable stage presence; neither overblown, nor portentous; merely quietly confident.
There followed fourteen passages of glorious incidental music, mostly orchestral but with some solo voice and Youth Chorus involvement, all joined together by Shakespeare’s glorious verse. Ms Steel was the star of the show, as she needed to be. She spoke in an unaffected Scottish accent and her diction was superbly clear. She spoke the words trippingly. There was no thespian aura, no overlay. The language spoke for itself. It was an extraordinarily musical performance. The rhythm was always in keeping with the tempo of the music. It was note perfect.
I see in this morning’s paper that Herald critic Keith Bruce agrees with me. Puckish fun makes Mendelssohn’s Shakespeare-inspired tale a dream. “Alongside the composer’s magnificent melodies and orchestration, shimmering and opulent, the other key element is the text extracted from Shakespeare, which was superbly delivered in this performance by Christine Steel, her verse-speaking an example of clarity and expression with just enough Puckish fun.”
Exactly.
The RSNO had also taken this programme to Dundee’s Caird Hall on Thursday, and Edinburgh’s Usher Hall on Friday. Christine Steel’s performance will have been noticed. We are going to hear a lot more of her. So I will be banging on about music again on Thursday, at our last German conversation class before Easter. We are all repairing to a local restaurant after the class where I have the honour of proposing a vote of thanks to our teacher. I’ve always felt slightly uncomfortable speaking in public places like restaurants, where my fellow diners may not wish to overhear what I’m saying. And in German. I’m getting sweaty palms thinking about it. I wish I had Ms Steel’s sanguine performing temperament. But I will attempt to emulate her Puckishness, and immaculate sense of timing.
Else the puck a liar call.
So, good night unto you all.
jamescalumcampbell 