Peter and the Wolf & Rococo Variations

City Halls, Glasgow, 16/11/25

BBCSSO, Christian Reif (conductor); Rory Kinnear (narrator), Sterling Elliott (cello)

https://www.bbc.co.uk/events/ed4n5v

The second afternoon concert of the 2025-26 season of the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra in Glasgow’s City Halls was on Sunday 16th November and boasted a “basket of unmissable goodies” programme.  After the interval, actor Rory Kinnear was the narrator in two works that employ one: Copland’s mighty 1942 ‘Lincoln Portrait’ and Prokofiev’s evergreen 1936 ‘Peter and the Wolf’.  Before the interval, cellist and BBC Radio 3 New Generation Artist Sterling Elliott was the soloist in Tchaikovsky’s sunny ‘Variations on a Rococo Theme’.  With Chief Conductor Ryan Wigglesworth still recovering from a bout of illness, German conductor Christian Reif was our guide for the afternoon.  In a change from the advertised programme, Barber’s pithy but epic 1942 Second Essay for Orchestra replaced Copland’s ‘Short Symphony’.  Lots of very young concert-goers in the modest but satisfactory attendance.

I first came across Barber’s essays when I borrowed an LP which had the first two (from 1938 and 1942) among other Barber “miniatures” from my university’s record library about 1981.  I was blown away by them, especially the Second.  I have yet to hear the Third Essay, which was composed in 1978.  Like a literary essay, Barber’s orchestral essays have a rhetorical structure with two themes (like a statement and counterstatement), a rigorous development (like a cogent argument) and a final summative synthesis (like a conclusion).  In addition, harmony and counterpoint of the highest quality are harnessed to rhetorical purpose yet, rather than an academic exercise, the resulting pieces have an emotional intensity that involves the listener in more than an admiration of form and structure.  The Second Essay is the perfect example of this.  In the space of 10 minutes, the tentative modal first theme dawns and is passed between the solo winds before the strings accept it.  It is the violas that introduce the lyrical searching second theme.  After a first climax subsides an orchestral chord launches the bonkers fast fugue built from the winds chattering the first theme in triplets at speed, not unlike the equally bonkers finale of the Violin Concerto.  When the fugue’s headlong rush is finally spent and fades in taps on the timpani and side drum, an elegiac hymn-like melody, which fuses elements of the two themes into an impassioned declaration, takes over.  However, harmonic resolution is withheld and the listener wonders: “does the Second Essay carry a tragic message?”, especially when anguished repeated notes high in the violins, a battle between the contrasting rhythms of the two themes, suggest that the piece is heading for an ambiguous conclusion (like, I would suggest, the First Essay).  It is the brass that takes charge and, in what must be one of my top three favourite delayed orchestral cadences, turns us to the radiant affirmation of the major, not triumphant perhaps, but certainly defiant.  Indomitability and survival: these are the message of the Second Essay, very capably and poignantly delivered by Christian Reif and the orchestra.  A great concert opener.

I have known Tchaikovsky’s glorious ‘Variations on a Rococo Theme’ since the early 1970s as the coupling on the iconic 1969 Rostropovich/Karajan/BPO Deutsche Grammophon recording of Dvořák’s Cello Concerto.  After the genial expressive short orchestral introduction with stylish rubato and tenuto, Sterling Elliott’s entry with the theme matched the mood and articulation with beautiful cantabile lyricism and warm tone and not a little youthful whimsy.  The same approach informed the wistful 3rd Variation and the elegiac 6th Variation, with phenomenal virtuosic agility shining in all the others.  As always with the BBCSSO, dialogue with the orchestra was elegant and characterised by mutually responsive phrasing, particularly with flute in the 5th Variation and flute and clarinet in the 6th.  The virtuosity in the minor cadenza in the 3rd Variation and the extended cadenza in the 5th was phenomenal. The delicate arpeggiated harmonics in the 4th Variation gavotte were as delicious as they were flawlessly accurate. The exuberant final galop was thrilling and life-affirming.  The Rococo Variations are always mood-enhancing but this was a particularly heart-warming reading.

My introduction to the ‘Lincoln Portrait’ was live, a studio concert in the St Francis Xavier Hall in Dublin, with the RTE Symphony Orchestra (now the National Symphony Orchestra) under Colman Pearce in the mid-1970s. The narrator was not an actor but none other than the fabulous bass-baritone Willard White, who of course spoke the quotations from Lincoln’s speeches and letters without amplification, endowing the democratic sentiments with the directness and honesty (with no trace of turgidity) that Copland intended.  [I must acknowledge that this prior experience robs me of any credible pretence of critical impartiality as far as the narration of the Copland is concerned, and I will eschew any comparison as fundamentally unfair].  This was during the presidency of Gerald Ford.  Whatever Ford’s flaws, he did not dishonour the office.  We are now in the era of Trump and MAGA. Can ‘Lincoln Portrait’ be performed without a trace of grim irony?  Well, I am going to say that it can, and it was. Rory Kinnear holds two Olivier Awards from his theatre work and will be remembered as a charismatic Bill Tanner in 4 of the Daniel Craig Bond films and as Detective Robert Nock in ‘The Imitation Game’, as well as a host of other roles.  Nor is he a stranger to opera, having sung Macheath in ‘The Threepenny Opera’ in 2016 and directed Ryan Wigglesworth’s ‘A Winter’s Tale’ for ENO the following year. The words were delivered with the unpretentious reverence for an icon that Copland intended. The music, which has the same epic quality as the first movement of Shostakovich’s 1939 Sixth Symphony (which was originally conceived as a Lenin biography, before the plan was abandoned in favour of a holiday atmosphere scherzo and a music-hall romp finale) is unmistakably rooted in Copland’s sound world, which defined American orchestral music for a generation, and it was presented with directness and dramatic power.  A moving experience for many; I do wonder what the younger members of the audience made of it. 

Of course, the younger members of the audience were there for ‘Peter and the Wolf’.  No disrespect to Copland intended, but Prokofiev’s scoring never competes dynamically with the narrator. Rory was in his element, introducing the instruments and their characters, telling us what to listen for. Prokofiev’s mission, to see the orchestra and conductor as a battalion of storytellers and the instruments as characters, was realised, I expect for many, though I can only vouch for the experience of one 65-year old kid.  Matthew Higham’s flute was a melodious bird, Guest Principal Rainer Gibbons’ oboe was a melancholy duck, and Yann Ghiro’s clarinet was a wily cat. The horns made a fearsome savage wolf. Winds, trumpet and timpani made for trigger-happy but friendly hunters.  And the strings were the curious, brave, resourceful boy Peter. Rory’s narration had all the charm I associate with the vintage recording featuring former BBC newsreader and one-time ‘Face the Music’ contestant Richard Baker. I feel sure that seeds were sown, many of which that will grow into the audience members of the future.

A great way to spend a Sunday afternoon.  Full marks from me.

A postscript: I found Barber’s Third Essay on YouTube.  Nothing wrong with it, but the Second is still my favourite.