To the Glasgow Royal Concert Hall, on Saturday evening, to hear the Royal Scottish National Orchestra in a concert of Mozart, Richard Strauss, and Bruckner. The concert turned out to be very special in a number of ways. Every season, there is a Sir Alexander Gibson Memorial Concert, in memory of the (then) Scottish National Orchestra’s conductor, between 1959 and 1984. As Sir Alex was born in 1926, this was a Centenary Concert.
In his 25 year tenure he revolutionised the Scottish classical music scene, introducing new repertoire (I read in Saturday’s programme that he gave the British premiere of Schoenberg’s Violin Concerto), championing contemporary Scottish composers such as Thomas Wilson and Thea Musgrave, and attracting soloists of international renown, such as Arthur Rubenstein, Mstislav Rostropovich, Janet Baker, and Jessye Norman. Yehudi Menuhin was a frequent visitor, and I recall his performances of the Beethoven, Brahms, Berg, Bach double, and (twice) the Elgar violin concerti.
Gibson conducted a wonderful Elgar season in the late 60s, but the composer perhaps with whom he was most identified was Sibelius. The SNO Sibelius recordings still stand the test of time. I remember a particularly electric performance of the fifth symphony in Glasgow City Halls.
All of this took place under the least auspicious of conditions. The celebrated St. Andrews Halls had burned down in 1962, the year Gibson, undaunted, founded Scottish Opera. From then, really until the 1990s, the SNO was without a suitable home until the orchestra gained royal patronage around the time of the opening of the Glasgow Royal Concert Hall. The annual season of summer Proms took place in the cavernous Kelvin Hall. Yet Gibson and the SNO could sell out that venue, night after night.
I should declare a special interest here. I had the privilege of playing under the baton of Alexander Gibson in the mid-70s when I was a student or, more accurately, I was between studentships, about to make the great leap from the Arts headlong into the Sciences. My then viola teacher was the section principal in the SNO and he would smuggle me in for gigs. Beethoven 5, Brahms 3, the Bartok Dance Suite, the Mendelssohn violin concerto… It was a steep learning curve. Some people complained about Gibson’s beat but personally I never had a problem following it. But then I admired him as a musician, and that’s half the battle. We played Mozart’s 21st Piano Concerto with Stephen Kovacevich, with its famous “Elvira Madigan” slow movement, in a reduced orchestra; six violas on that occasion. I was included. I didn’t really realise it at the time, but I was being trialled. I got the offer of playing 50% of the gigs, so essentially I would be a deputy to allow people to take a break. But I was about to start Medical School. For one crazy moment I thought of doing it, of moonlighting. But really I had to make a choice. It was one these “road not travelled” occasions, depicted by Robert Frost as an apparently trivial choice between paths in a woodland walk. I think I made the right choice. I don’t think I really had the temperament to be a professional musician. Sooner or later, Sir Alex would have rumbled me.
I wonder what he would have made of the concert, and the orchestra, on Saturday night. I would guess he would have been delighted. The RSNO is on top form. The concert was introduced by Ian Skelly of BBC Radio 3 fame, as it is going out on air in mid-March. I always enjoy Mr Skelly’s introductions. He has a lightness of touch. He asked us to switch our mobile phones off, and said failure to do so would result in the culprit having to pay the licence fee of everybody else on his or her row. If memory serves me right, this got a round of applause.
Following Mozart’s Overture to the Marriage of Figaro, Felix Klieser played Richard Strauss’ First Horn Concerto. This was the next very remarkable element of the evening. Felix Klieser was born without arms. It raises the conundrum, how on earth can you play the horn, or any musical instrument for that matter, without hands? The solution in this case was that the horn was supported on its own stand, and Felix Klieser depressed the valves using the toes of his left foot. The sound produced was so beautiful, the technique so virtuoso, and the interpretation of the piece so musical, that curiously one ceased to be diverted by the machinations of the delivery. It was, by any reckoning, a magnificent performance. The encore, the last movement of Mozart’s Fourth Horn Concerto, was rapturously received. The warmth of the Glasgow audience was palpable. The whole performance was quite inspirational.
After the interval we heard Anton Bruckner’s Eighth Symphony. The programme note announced a duration of 88 minutes. I confess to have been slightly daunted by a piece of music lasting two minutes shy of a football match (without extra time), but in the event I was entirely absorbed by the Bruckner world. These magnificent perorations, in long paragraphs, need space and time. It occurred to me that this is the ideal antidote to the dystopian world of fast food, fast news, and all sorts of fast knee-jerk responses that we have created, and are obliged to live in. We could do no better than follow Ian Skelly’s advice on a frequent basis, to switch off our mobile phones and listen to a Bruckner symphony. I will certainly tune in next month when Radio 3 broadcasts the recording.
jamescalumcampbell 