An evening at Cadogan Hall, to which I have never previously ventured. A lovely compact little hall, just off Sloane Square, refurbished and opened as "London's newest concert hall" less than two years ago.
Tonight was the opening concert in The King's Consort season, an exclusively Mozart evening with soprano Carolyn Sampson, who I completely adore. Also in the audience was Blogger Simon - our diaries often coincide and we share a taste for singers.
It was an exceptionally lovely concert, a mixture of familiar and unfamiliar. In full:
Regina Coeli, KV 127
Sancta Maria, mater Dei, KV 273
Epistle sonata in C, KV 278
Exsultate, Jubilate, KV 165
Symphony 34 in C, KV 338
Regina Coeli, KV 108
The Epistle sonata was extraordinarily familiar to me, and I was puzzled, because the name meant nothing, but a quick flick through my CD collection has shown that it is inserted into the Coronation Mass which features on my most favourite Mozart CD. The first Regina Coeli was slightly familiar, as if I might have heard it more than once previously. The second Regina Coeli and the Sancta Maria were entirely unfamiliar. I thought I knew the Exsultate, Jubilate, but when it started I realised I didn't, but then it progressed and I realised I did - a programme note states it is "the rarely heard Salzburg version of the famous Exsultate Jubilate..."
I sort of know Symphony 34, although it is not in my collection. The Andante is reminiscent of my beloved Clarinet Quintet, the final movement reminiscent of the famous horn concerto. But the fabulous thing about Mozart is that it doesn't matter whether or not you can hum silently along.
The orchestra were fabulous. There was a small flub from the period horns - how precarious are modern horns, let alone old ones - but otherwise no criticisms. The sensitivity was moving. I think Robert King is a wonderful conductor, and I have rarely heard Mozart played with such delicacy and feeling, with some amazing contrasts not just in dynamics but in touch, if you get me. The orchestra was perfectly sized for the space - interesting feature in the Guardian (and apologies to the couple next to me - this is where I read briefly about the history of the venue...). Bigger than a chamber orchestra, but not so vast as those wonderfully enormous symphony orchestras that fill the big halls.
The Choir of the King's Consort, small but beautifully formed, sounded just right, too. My only criticism was that I found their opening salvo to be quite difficult to understand, but maybe that was me adjusting to the acoustics of a new venue, because after the first few minutes, I thought them excellent.
If it had been a purely orchestral and choral concert, I would have come away delighted, but in addition to all that we were treated to a sublime performance by Carolyn Sampson, her of the crystal voice - "the leading British soprano of her generation" said the programme. There are so many aspects of her voice that I enjoy. Most of all the sheer clarity, and added to that the even-ness of tone from the very high to almost the bottom of her range. The ability to vary dynamics, the mezza di voce, and the coloratura she displayed. All this and a wonderful sense of music and the ability to project herself to the whole audience, when not singing meeting all corners of the audience with her eyes.
At the end Robert King mentioned that they would be spending the next three days recoding that programme and some other pieces in preparation for Mozart's 'big year' next year, and, if we didn't mind, they would practice one piece with us. This was Laudate Dominum, already one of my very favourite arias. The way it was performed tonight, especially by Carolyn, but also by the choir, the orchestra and conductor was something very special. And the final 'note' was a perfect appreciative silence by the audience, not under the direction of the baton, but because the music deserved it. I had experienced goosebumps at periods throughout. Laudate Dominum made the hairs on my arm stand up. I turned to the woman next to me and said "That's one CD sold, already". As I was walking up the gangway to leave there was an elderly couple behind me in tears. They had never heard Carolyn before and had never heard anything like her, especially that final Laudate Dominum.
As well as a perfect choir, orchestra, conductor and soloist, there was an almost perfect audience. At one point the woman next to me delicately rattled a packetof mints, but I suspect it was only me that noticed, and then only momentarily. Otherwise, perfect. Except that in the distance I spotted a man so repulsive that I once entirely resisted his attempts to seduce me despite his evil use of Plácido Domingo records and copious quantities of red wine direct from the chateau. I did consider taunting him about some other matter, knowing that I was surrounded by Lambeth residents (I'm such an earwigger) but there's no snappy way of saying "Where's the three million defrauded from Lambeth Housing on your watch...?"
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