SCO: Beethoven, Pekka & Dreamers’ Circus
City Halls, Glasgow: 20/3/26
Scottish Chamber Orchestra; Pekka Kuusisto (director/violin); Dreamers’ Circus [Ale Carr (cittern/violin), Nikolaj Busk (piano/accordion), Rune Tonsgaard Sørensen (violin)]
I was back to Glasgow’s City Halls on the night of 20th March for the second of three outings for a programme billed as “joyfully unconventional ... masterminded and conducted by much-loved Finnish violin pioneer Pekka Kuusisto” and titled ‘Beethoven, Pekka & Dreamers’ Circus’. The headline “Beethoven” element was the evergreen A-major Seventh Symphony Op.92 of 1812. Dreamers’ Circus is a Danish/Swedish folk trio comprising Nikolaj Busk on piano and accordion, Rune Tonsgaard Sørensen on violin and Ale Carr on cittern. The movements of the symphony were interspersed with (mainly) Nordic folk tunes played by Dreamers’ Circus. The concert was very well-attended.
With his customary wry wit, Pekka introduced the programme (“Good news: we’ve rehearsed; we played it last night: it’ll probably by OK”) before passing the microphone to Nikolaj, who said it was great to be back in Glasgow, where Dreamers’ Circus have been regulars at ‘Celtic Connections’, before introducing their first two numbers. The first was their own composition, quite impressionistic in texture, with a melody that reminded me of Debussy’s ‘La fille aux cheveux de lin’. It was followed by a more folk-like melody, beginning on the cittern (fitted with a pickup and subtly amplified) with the character of a slow jig in A major, leading seamlessly to the opening coup d’archet forte chord of the Beethoven symphony.
The slow introduction of the first movement featured glorious ensemble tone and crystal clarity of detail. The teasing transition to the dotted rhythms of the Vivace was delightfully leaned into. Beethoven’s characterful dynamics and the exposition repeat were all observed. A sense of mystery at the start of the development added thrilling drama. Rhythms were crisply infectious. The subtle rubato in the conversation of solo winds near the beginning of the recapitulation was delicious. The “pause-and-whimper” before building teasingly to the coda was as cheeky as I’ve heard. Top-drawer characterful Beethoven like it is meant to be.
Citternist Ale Carr switched to violin and Nikolaj switched to accordion for the next trio number, beginning with drone on 2 violins and melody on accordion. As a 6/8 tempo became established, the orchestra joined in, the arrangement inhabiting a sound world that reminded me of Shaun Davey’s music for ‘The Brendan Voyage’ and ‘Granuaile’. A brisk reel-like Danish folk-dance sustained the impression to the end. It was followed by a movement from a Beethoven sonata for violin and piano, played straight at first, then with the cittern in the texture, becoming a 3-way conversation and increasingly folk-like, concluding with the same texture as the first piece they had played. Tastefully done, it led attacca to the A-minor wind chord of the start of the 2nd movement of the Symphony.
The tempo for the Allegretto was majestic without a shred of “sepulchral”, with string playing of great nobility. The counter-melody’s first appearance on the violas was delicious and the violas remained vital to the texture throughout the movement. Crystal clarity of the detail was thrilling also. The fugato section built magnificently in tension and volume, spooky at first, then discursive, and finally declamatory. The twice-encountered wistfully idyllic major key interlude was touching both times. The delicate passing of the vanishing theme from section to section and the final sigh that is the coda were magical.
The first half concluded with another piece composed and arranged by the trio with orchestral accompaniment. Starting spectrally high on the piano, it was quite spookily filmic, a pulse established early on the orchestral violas a strangely unsettling presence throughout until the diminuendo end. Intriguing piece.
After the interval, the orchestra remained offstage for 2 extended sets by Dreamers’ Circus. Nikolaj introduced the first item as “Swiss, from 1532 – really old shit, but quite beautiful”. The Glasgow audience were surprised, not of course by the mild expletive (as if), but by the realisation that the melody on the accordion over a 2-violin drone was that of the hymn, known in Scotland as ‘All People That On Earth Do Dwell’, in Ireland as ‘Receive, O Father, in Thy Love’, and in England (I think) as ‘The Old Hundredth Psalm Tune” (in that case with a cracking arrangement by Vaughan Williams). A portion of the audience hummed along. Some even knew the words. A pair of Danish reel-like dances followed, one with the supposed title “Was it you who stole my goat?” The first set concluded with a quirky piece written by citternist Ale called ‘The Catastrophe’, an attractive melody with increasingly odd harmonies and wild rhythms, a quasi-improvised solo on the cittern, concluding.in a syncopated passage that ended abruptly. The second set opened with a charming Swedish dance written by Ale for solo violin over cittern chords, though it seemed to my ear to have a free metre without any discernible bar lines. It was followed by a pair of joyous Danish folk dances for the trio using accordion, violin and cittern, the first (‘The 2 of Hearts’) rhythmic and stylish, the second faster and gleeful, about ‘Ascending the Peak Brande Krat’. Swede Rune pointed out that this majestic Danish ‘peak’ is all of 141 metres high.
The orchestra returned to the stage and tuned. The rambunctious Scherzo of the symphony bowled along impishly, with laughter from the winds and full exploitation of dynamic contrasts and rhythmic jolts. The horns and winds in the Trio were excellent and played to the acoustic of the auditorium, equally elegant at lower volume when the Trio makes a second appearance, a mischievous tenuto dramatizing the false start third time round. The Trio was a bit meno presto, but not assai for my personal tastes, sustaining the mischief right enough but losing some of the exploitable lyricism (to voice a very subjective personal preference). Still excellent.
After an enthusiastic Glasgow response to ‘permission’ to applaud after a non-finale symphonic movement, bridging to the Finale were two wee gems. A Danish Polska, an energetic Polish-derived dance popular in Denmark since the 17th century, was scored for folk trio and orchestra, with an additional solo cello part played by the vivacious Su-a Lee from the orchestra. It was followed by a reworking for the trio of the melody of an Irish song, ‘Save Me From the Grave and Wise’, from Beethoven’s own arrangement as No.8 of his ‘12 Irish Songs’, WoO 154. Remarkable enough to have more Beethoven in the folk segment, but the melody was the one he plundered for the Finale of the 7th, which of course was then played attacca.
I have written before that my personal history with the Finale is longer than my memory (I am told I used to bounce up and down to it as a baby). Pekka directed from the violin, playing along with the first violins. The tempo was perfect for just the right mix of “gotta dance” obsession and inebriated abandon. Irresistible impulse met willing victim. In 2024 at the close of the East Neuk Festival and in Callander Kirk a week later, the overly fluid tempi of Maxim Emelyanychev’s reading of the Finale with the same orchestra had disappointed this reviewer: Pekka’s was the real deal. The expansive moments breathed without loss of momentum or drive. A thrilling roller-coaster ride to the finish. Superb.
To be truthful, I had had reservations about “interrupting a Beethoven symphony” but was determined to show up with an open mind. Equally truthfully, my reservations evaporated on contact with the expertly curated programme, the persuasive excellence of collaborative music making, and the charisma of the performers. Some years ago, Danish conductor Thomas Dausgaard presented a series of concerts with the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra exploring the influences on various composers, in some cases, most notably Bartók, including folk music and performances from folk musicians. Simultaneously scholarly and enjoyable. This concert achieved something similar, less overtly scholarly and rather more organic and spontaneous. Both get my vote. But I can’t deny a special warmth towards those who occasionally ‘Save Me From the Grave and Wise’, with the same irreverence as Beethoven himself.