Living waters in a time of drought.

The Prom on Tuesday 20^th July had been keenly anticipated, mainly because of the first British performance of Jessie Montgomery’s These Righteous Paths, a ‘cello concerto written for the young South African phenomenon Abel Selaocoe. I shall consider this in detail later.

The BBC Philharmonic, conducted by Gian Andrea Noseda began the concert with Bach’s Fantasia and Fugue in G minor, BWV 542 (orch. Andrew Davis). This was an excellent arrangement, very well played, a fitting tribute to a fine British conductor who was closely associated with this orchestra.

These Righteous Paths came next, but my reaction to the piece and its performance is so complex that I am considering this last and at some length.

Beethoven’s Choral Symphony occupied the whole of the second half. Noseda and his orchestra were again most impressive, and gave a particularly lovely account of the third movement. The fourth movement, Schiller’s ‘Ode to Joy’ was chiefly memorable for excellent singing from The Philharmonia Chorus (though even they could not make the stratospheric writing for the sopranos and tenors sound anything other than effortful). The solo quartet were a mixed bunch. The tenor and bass had suitably heroic voices, but both sounded as if years of singing the heavier operatic roles had taken its toll. What little the soprano and mezzo had to do they did well, the soprano, Leah Hawkins, in particular displaying a classy spinto voice. The final frenetic bars raised the roof, and the audience reaction was suitably ecstatic.

So, what of ‘These Righteous Paths’? Abel Selaocoe has developed a considerable following by mixing African influenced vocalisation with his ‘cello playing, and Jessie Montgomery wrote the piece for him. Selaocoe has expressed his satisfaction that Montgomery chose him ‘rather than just any ‘cellist’, which struck me as rather self-satisfied, if not arrogant. The work is, in part, a reflection of black American culture (rather unfortunately described by the soloist as ‘a mish mash’) in which, of course, African heritage plays a significant part. Another inspiration was poems by the composer’s mother. She died six years ago, so ‘These Righteous Paths’ could also be seen as a requiem. The final movement of the concerto sets the words:

I want a new song

Beautifully sung

About something more

Not all the songs before

Lost love and closing doors

Not the same old rhymes

Same old times of death and war.

A new new new song

Is what I’m longing for

Hmm… I tend to agree with the Book of Ecclesiastes that ‘there is nothing new under the sun’ and Montgomery acknowledges the importance of tradition even if she expresses this in what seem to me rather fanciful terms:

This piece represents part of a series of works that are inspired by the plays and poems of my late mother, Robbie McCauley, a leading figure in the Black theatre movement in post-Civil Rights era America, who passed away in 2021. As I have navigated my own grief in the past five years since her passing, I find myself absorbed by the sentiments in her words, comforted and inspired by them, and realizing the inherent music within them. Reflecting inheritances from the African diaspora and its influence on the Black American experience, it is from these ancestral traces that I shape a living soundscape, one that honours what has been passed down while allowing the music to conjure new hopes and memories. I am inspired by the Sankofa image, a Ghanaian concept and symbol that describes the way we must look back in order to go forward. The figure is depicted by a bird with its head tilted backward, as if calling to the past for confirmation to take flight. Thusly, there are extended passages that are inspired by the cascade and cadence of birds in flight.

This collaboration with Abel Selaocoe represents a journey through worlds past and present, and is just as much inspired by the poems as it is by his unique palette of cellistic and vocal capabilities. The orchestration traverses many stylistic influences that I associate with Abel’s voice — baroque continuo, song-writing, Afro-centric rhythms and melodies, virtuoso classical performance, and improvisation, to name a few. The form struggles to be contained, yet relaxes into grooves and sometimes uncannily familiar melodies. While writing, I often found myself asking, “Have I written this before?” Sometimes I think it is simply confirmation from past lives, ancestral nudges forward, as if to say: “Yes, we are here. Keep going. You must keep going.”

Well, call me cynical, but I did not detect much form to be contained, struggling or not. The general effect was fragmentary, and while Selaocoe’s singing was often beautiful, and always arresting it, like the short winded passages for the ‘cello, did not seem to me to amount to much in the final analysis. The piece, like Selaocoe’s performance seemed self-satisfied without having a huge amount to be satisfied about. It is only fair to report that my jaundiced attitude was not shared by the audience who seemed positively delirious with adulation of all concerned. Congratulations also to Gian Andrea Noseda for exemplary work on a tricky assignment.

Not content with giving the UK premiere of a work which, regardless of my opinion of it, deserved and received an intense appraisal from an admirably attentive audience, Selaocoe felt obliged to give an encore: ‘I couldn’t come here without playing something from home…’. The obvious response to this was ‘O yes you could, quite easily’, but instead of an interval where they could absorb Montgomery’s sound world, the audience were treated to a Celaocoe improvisation which was meandering, only intermittently attractive and, I felt, surplus to requirements. At least the Prommers got to sing along a bit, which seems to be a developing theme at the Proms’ this year. Again, it is only fair to acknowledge that the audience very definitely did not share my sentiments and gave the exuberant South African a huge ovation.

The Prom on Friday 24^th July featured a ‘cellist of a rather different type. Abel Selaocoe is an exotic figure, sporting dreadlocks and flowing robes, Jonathan Aasgaard, principal ‘cellist with John Wilson’s ‘Sinfonia of London’ puts one in mind of a no nonsense Norwegian farmer – thickset and serious. But my goodness, what a player he is. His magnificent performance of the Walton Cello Concerto in the ‘John Wilson Prom’ of Friday 24^th July was just one highlight of a concert that quickly exhausted my list of superlatives. The concert started with Verdi’s ‘La Forza del Destino’ Overture, which received a pretty much ideal performance. The Walton I have mentioned. Aasgaard was warmly greeted by his colleagues as he made his way onto the platform and embraced Wilson after the triumphant performance. He is plainly very popular with his peers. If he felt a temptation to play an encore this was resisted…

He returned after the interval to lead the ‘cellos in the Respighi tone poem trilogy, something that speaks volumes about his humility and status as a team player. He seems to have passed the latter trait onto his son who played football for Norway in the recent World Cup.

The Roman Trilogy consists of Roman Festivals, Fountains of Rome, and Pines of Rome, each tone poem being a different scene of celebration in ancient and contemporary Rome. The effect of hearing these three works together was quite breathtaking. Well might John Wilson have mouthed ‘fucking hell!’ at the conclusion of ‘Pines of Rome’ (I watched the concert on BBC 1). The presto of Rossini’s ‘William Tell’ Overture provided a scintillating encore to conclude a quite superb evening of collaborative music making.

The Prom two days before this on Wednesday 22^nd July presented the audience with quite a stern challenge. Both halves of the concert contained just the one work. Part One lasted twenty minutes, Part Two took well over an hour. The work in Part One was Kurtag’s ‘Stele’, written in 1994 as a memorial to his great friend András Mihály. Kurtag has said it is intended to evoke “someone lying wounded on a battlefield… seeing only a very clear, very blue sky,” and, no doubt through auto-suggestion, this is exactly the image that came into my head during the final movement. ‘Stele’ is a distilled contemplation of the serious mysteries of life’s end. It is slow, often hushed and absolutely overwhelming. An interval is needed to recover one’s composure. After this, Mahler’s 6^th Symphony (‘The Tragic’) seemed rather over-blown but in this fine performance it still hit home strongly. The BBCSO and Principal conductor Sakari Oramo were wonderfully fine. How privileged we are to have exemplary music making night after night in this parched summer. “Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water”.