Two things occur to me, writing this blog. One is the need to explain why I am writing it, and the other is to put on record how much I love British arts and culture too. I am truly fortunate to live in the arty English town of Lewes, an hour away from London by train. I want to give you an idea of why I go to London and why I think it is still one of the great cities of the world. For me, it’s the place where I go most often to satisfy my life-long passion for music and art. In the one year I document here, I have been truly inspired by what I’ve seen and heard in good ol’ London Town.

Of course, also for the record, and for all this stuff about the wonders of Europe and, the UK’s foolishly severed relationship with it. I love London – scroll on to see some of my reasons for so doing.

One last thing – if I give the impression of being a bit of a globe-trotter, the truth is that mostly, as all writers, I spend most of my time in a small room here in the lovely town of Lewes in Sussex. In fact, friends tell me that I don’t. go out enough.

27th March 2025

Marie Lys, soprano, Elina Garanča, mezzo-soprano, Piotr Beczala, tenor, William Thomas, bass, Philharmonia Chorus, Philharmonia Orchestra, conducted by Riccardo Muti.

“Neil Fisher, chief music critic of The Times recently interviewed Riccardo Muti and aptly described him as the last of the ‘Big Beasts’. Tickets for this concert were like gold-dust, the hall was packed to the gunwales; there were people standing (with paid tickets) at the rear of the stalls. This was not simply another concert – it was a major musical event…It was not only a huge pleasure to attend this concert, but it was also a privilege and certainly one for the record books.” John Rhodes, Seen and Heard International.

27th March 2025

Petrarch’s rave review has it right. Conquering the heart is what Martini and other 14th-century painters from Siena do in the National Gallery’s devastatingly exact, epochal exhibition about the moment western art came alive. Simone’s painting of Laura is lost but you see why he was the artist for the job. He is so expressive, so tender, exploding any idea of medieval art as remote. Jonathan Jones, The Guardian.

29th April 2025

29TH APRIL 2025

Legions of keyboard fans know that Víkingur Ólafsson  does reflective like few others. Calmness, softness of touch and introspection are among the Icelandic pianist’s widely admired trademarks. It helps make him a perfect performer for the AirPod age……but how does Ólafsson respond to a full orchestra in a large-scale work such as Beethoven’s third piano concerto? The answer, in this opening concert of the Philharmonic Orchestra’s celebrationary 80th season, is that he does it with enviable ease. 

Before the concerto, Santtu-Matias Rouvali conducted the UK premiere of Gabriela Ortiz’s Si el Oxígeno Fuera Verde, which the orchestra had premiered in Amsterdam the previous day. Described by the composer as a fragile green murmur of life, the environmentally inspired work is delicately scored as a bubbling forest of gentle arpeggios and trills, which eventually coheres into an insistent dance with echoes of John Adams and the Stravinsky of The Rite of Spring.

Alongside Ólafsson, who stayed to listen to the second half of the concert, the evening’s star attraction was the Royal Festival Hall organ being played at full throttle. With Notre Dame cathedral’s Olivier Latry at the organ controls, and Rouvali neatly alive to the work’s overall architecture and colours, Saint-Saëns’s third symphony is a guaranteed crowd pleaser for a special occasion – and so it proved.  Martin Kettle, The Guardian

The result is a show that feels adventurous and fresh. Reconsidered by Tsang and Fuenteblanca, his art springs to life. And to top it all, in the show’s climax, we get The Three Dancers displayed on a pretend stage, lifted up in lights for us to examine properly and dramatically. The “dancers” are two women and a man, their figures twisted spikily into an edgy tango. The woman on the left is grimacing grotesquely. The man on the right is silhouetted mysteriously. The dancing nude at their centre seems to be the focus of their tension.

We’re watching a tug of love. I was reminded immediately of Princess Diana’s lament about three in a marriage being a bit crowded. Picasso has cast the central figure in the Camilla Parker Bowles role.The man is clearly Picasso, reduced, typically, to a silhouette. The screaming woman on the left is, surely, his Russian wife Olga, whom he had begun to caricature nastily in his art. The dancing nude is a lover who has come between them.The Tate has other theories and we’ll never know for sure. But what’s excellent here is how excitingly the show has framed the possibilities. It’s been a long time — several years — since an event as stimulating as this opened at Tate Modern. If it were up to me I would leave these rooms exactly as they are for ever, as a thrilling tribute to Picasso. Waldemar Januszczak, Waldemar.tv

2nd November 2025

Is home a place, a feeling, or an idea? Suh asks timely questions about the enigma of home, identity and how we move through and inhabit the world around us. Tate Modern.

2nd November 2025

Kngwarray’s paintings might well remind you of a kind of gestural abstraction they have nothing to do with, and which the artist would never in any case have seen. The things we look at in Kngwarray’s art are about an entirely different order of experience to the similar kinds of brushstrokes driven this way and that around other, more familiar canvases we might also find in Tate Modern, where her retrospective has arrived from the National Gallery of Australia. But this similarity is also one of the reasons Kngwarray became famous in the first place. Adrian Searle, The Guardian.

2nd November 2025

Installation by Carlos Cruz-Diez, 2019.

‘When light comes into contact with an artwork, it changes it completely. My challenge is to reveal to the viewer a reality without a past or a future: my works exist in a perpetual present.’

2nd November 2025

‘Rather unusual for ‘contemporary’ composers, Christian Lindberg actually has his ‘own identity’ – a voice of his own – and not at all derivative of other composers, as tediously customary in ‘contemporary’ music. Lindberg’s Trombone Concert No.4, is a mesmerising masterpiece and was warmly received by an enthused audience.

The elegantly elfistical Santtu-Matias Rouvali conducted a completely flawless performance of Shostakovich’s Fifth Symphony (subtitled ‘A Soviet artist’s practical, creative reply to just criticism’) with all tempos correctly judged from beginning to end: accents, clarity, phrasing, and dynamic range were exceptionally well-judged eliciting a highly charged emotional intensity from his immaculately tuned world-class orchestra.’ Alexander Verney-Elliott, Seen and Heard International.

16th January 2025

Indeed, anyone not au fait with the story of Gesualdo’s colourful life would be perplexed by much they saw here, especially as his two wives appear to be played by the same actress. No help is given in terms of texts (they’re printed in the programme but there are no surtitles) or other factual information.

The show is better seen… as a theatrical representation of Gesualdo’s tortured psyche as reflected in his shockingly chromatic harmonies, rather than a representational biopic. On that level it’s powerful and engrossing, the music extending far beyond contemporary Mannerism to something more like 20th-century Expressionism, expressing deep psychological trauma. Barry Millingon, The Standard.

19th February 2025

The distinctions are so often invoked that some find it hard to believe these artists could have anything in common. Which is precisely the twist of this show. It wants us to look far more closely at these minds and hands at work, and to discover fundamental similarities when the two are brought together. In its originality and insight, its brilliant selection and compelling texts, this is one of the most exhilarating shows I’ve ever seen. Laura Cumming, the Observer.

19th February 2025

Bruckner Symphony No. 8, Philharmonia Orchestra conducted by Lawrence Renes 

A rare appearance in the UK by Sir Donald Runnicles, a longtime fixture of the German classical music scene, had prompted excitement among audiences in London. The proposition of hearing him conduct the Philharmonia in Bruckner’s Symphony no. 8 in C minor stirred the musical loins of Bruckner-lovers, and there was a palpable buzz at the Royal Festival Hall on the evening. Alas, Sir Donald was indisposed, but Lawrence Renes gamely stepped in at short notice to lead the orchestra in the Haas edition of the score.

‘The performance of the symphony (Bruckner’s 8th Symphony) was nothing short of glorious and much of that must be due to Renes’s muscular conducting. His grasp of the structure of the work was palpable, and he revelled in the frequent volcanic eruptions in the work. The Scherzo oozed rhythmic energy, the three harps glistened. The long Adagio started very slowly and I feared the conductor was going to ignore the composer’s express direction Feierlich langsam, aber nicht schleppend (Ceremonially slow but don’t drag); thankfully, Renes soon imposed a slightly faster tempo. He built up the many climaxes with great skill, and the Wagner tubas shone. Indeed, the orchestra played magnificently across all sections, blended woodwind, firm strident brass, thundering timpani (Simon Carrington), mellow horns (led by Lasse Mauritzen) and the percussionist enjoying his two cymbal clashes: and all held together by the lithe and energetic Leader, Zsolt-Tihamér Visontay.

I am now thinking of starting a new blog entitled ‘Bring back Renes’ – or even, ‘Where’s Renes? Perhaps the Philharmonia will invite him back in a coming season with, say, Bruckner’s Fourth? I live in hope; but also hope Sir Donald, restored to full health, will return to a London podium very soon.’ John Rhodes, Seen and Heard International

19th March 2026

What stands out from the outset is the shift in perspective. Rather than presenting modernism as a story that begins in Europe and spreads outward, the exhibition recognises Lagos, Zaria, Ibadan and Enugu as major centres of artistic innovation in their own right. This reframing will resonate strongly with Black British visitors familiar with how cultural histories can be sidelined in mainstream institutions. Here, Nigeria is not the supporting act — it is the focus.

Written by Black History Month UK. 18/11/2025

19th March 2026

There was a time when London’s walls were papered with Mahler 2s; certainly, in the 1980s, performances were regular occurrences with nary a month going by without one or other of the capital’s concert halls having its roof blown off by massed choirs belting out Klopstock.

The Mahler craze has quieted, but there is always space for the mighty sonic edifice of the Second. Fittingly, given the prominence of the brass in Mahler, this performance was dedicated to the memory of trumpeter John Wallace, former Principal Trumpet of the Philharmonia Orchestra….

…Kent Nagano’s Mahler is a known entity, and shares with his Wagner (his ongoing historically-informed Ring cycle in particular, closing with Götterdämmerung in Dresden in May) an x-ray awareness of detail. This was an individual interpretation of the highest rank, as Nagano manages to pair that sense of detail with an awareness of the big picture, allowing climaxes to really register (another commonality with his Wagner).

Nagano also has the ability to create just the right momentum, a trait important everywhere but maybe especially so in the symphony’s opening paragraphs. His conducting technique is near-infallible, too: of all the many Mahler 2’s I have heard, none contained such perfectly controlled Luftpausen as this. Nagano gave space for the contrasting themes; again, just the right amount. It is worth mentioning some individual contributions from the orchestra that stood out: first horn Laurence Davies, and cor anglais player Maxwell Spiers…

…A simply superb trombone solo from Matthew Lewis was another highlight of the evening, as was the velvety sound of trombones and tuba at the ‘Dies irae’ theme. The finale is a movement of extremes, and Mahler piles on the scoring in true late-Romantic fashion. Somehow, Nagano made sense of the thorniest passages like few before him, while honouring the Modernism of the score, more notably in those proto-Ivesian moments of thematic juxtaposition…

…The placing of the off-stage contributions was carefully and effectively thought-through. Jane Archibald was just as special a soloist as Bock, her soprano the perfect complement to Bock’s mezzo. But it was Nagano that choreographed the great choral climax so perfectly, the Philharmonia Chorus beautifully soft on entry, the male voices later creating an imposing wall of sound, Nagano extending the silent pause after ‘Bereite dich’ daringly, as if himself asking, ‘Prepare yourself for what?’. ‘To live,’ came the answer, and how beautifully Archibald crowned the chorus. The Philharmonia Chorus could only be described as fearsomely present in the work’s final stretch; and yet the brass crowned it all, perfectly. Good to hear the RFH organ at full tilt, too. Colin Clarke, Opera Today.

The post Me Going to London and Having a Great Time 2025 – 2026 appeared first on Wolfie Wolfgang.

My first Sibelius festival was definitely a thrilling experience, much more thrilling than I’d expected. It was the perfect marriage of music, location and venue – the acoustically perfect and architecturally exciting Sibelius Hall (Sibeliustalo) situated on the banks of Lake Vesijärvi, and the performances of the Lahti Symphony Orchestra, under their then conductor, the dynamic firebrand, Dalia Stasevska. I was genuinely hooked after that first year. Over the following two Festivals, we had the chance to hear all of Sibelius’ symphonies in fine performances along with most of his major works. With Sibelius, the more you hear his music, the more you hear in his music.

Kullervo was one of the boyish heroes of Kalevala, a joyful extrovert , like Wagner’s Siegfried, who was immensely strong and brave but who was also fated to endure a sorrowful life and to die in despair, after discovering that he had had incestuous love with a woman who turned out to be his long-lost sister.

She wrote about Grieg and Sibelius in a memoir: ‘One particular person for whom I was also able to sing Sibelius was Edvard Grieg. This came about as I presented his Lieder with him on a concert tour to Warsaw. We were together ten days and each day I was supposed to sing Sibelius for him. “He will be one of the greatest men of the North,” Grieg once said to me. Grieg was so enthusiastic that he
promised to visit Finland soon, but several months after our trip he died.’

There was mutual respect between the two most famous Nordic composers even though they never actually met. Their songs are in the repertoire of the international opera star, the Finnish soprano Karita Mattila and she came to Lahti for the closing concert when she sang orchestral songs by both composers, Grieg’s songs from Peer Gynt and his well-known En Svane (A swan) and Vǎren (Spring). She closed with a selection of Sibelius’ songs, including the magnificent Svarta rosor (Black Roses). There were no apologies or excuses before she sang, but it became noticeable by the pauses between songs, and then a longer gap as she left the stage, that she was nursing her voice through some kind of infection. She made sure that she could deliver of her best by pacing herself through would could have been an ordeal. It was a masterclass of a great singer’s vocal technique. In Sibelius’ Svarta rosor, she had saved the most difficult and demanding song to the end and she delivered it real passion and drama.

The post Going back to Finland – 2025 Part Two – The Sibelius Festival appeared first on Wolfie Wolfgang.

The poem, apparently famous, was new to me and I was immediately drawn to its theme of the, now dead, beautiful love-lorn maiden leaning over the balcony of Heaven hoping that her lover will join her up there where they could continue their very physical relationship. It is a headily exotic piece of mystical eroticism, one of the Pre-Raphaelites classic themes. The young Rossetti is the bereaved young man witnessing what seems like an erotic and slightly irreligious dream of his lost love. This young man’s fantasy drew the piece to the testosterone-charged Claude Debussy who was in his mid-twenties when he wrote his music.   Here are two excepts from the poem to give you some idea of what I mean.

The Blessed Damozel

by Dante Gabriel RossettiThe blessed damozel lean’d out
From the gold bar of Heaven;
Her eyes were deeper than the depth
Of waters still’d at even;
She had three lilies in her hand,
And the stars in her hair were seven.Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem,
No wrought flowers did adorn,The Blessed
But a white rose of Mary’s gift,
For service meetly worn;
Her hair that lay along her back
Was yellow like ripe corn.

*

Around her, lovers, newly met
‘Mid deathless love’s acclaims,
Spoke evermore among themselves
Their heart-remember’d names;
And the souls mounting up to God
Went by her like thin flames.

And still she bow’d herself and stoop’d
Out of the circling charm;
Until her bosom must have made
The bar she lean’d on warm,
And the lilies lay as if asleep
Along her bended arm.

 

I was, of course,  pursuing my slightly obsessive journey through the history of classical music in chronological order from the year 1100 onwards (begun fifteen years ago) and now reaching the year 1887.  Listening to Debussy’s first musical masterpiece, La Damoiselle élue (1887/88), opened my ears to a new era and, maybe for the first time on this project, showed me the dawning of the 20th Century. I have tried over the years to block out memories of any music written after the date currently studied but now that I’m nearing the end of the line (I’m finishing in 1897 with the death of Johannes Brahms), I can’t help but hear how Debussy would flower into one of the early geniuses of ‘modern’ music. It was also a thrilling return to one of my favourite composers, long missed over the 15 years. If you want to see what I mean, you can hear an except from the piece at the bottom of this page,taken from the inspiring CD with Esa Pekka Salonen conducting the Los Angeles Philharmonic. I can’t stop playing it. It’s true that you can hear the influence of Richard Wagner (1813 – 1883)  and, one of Debussy’s teachers, Cesar Franck (1822 – 1890), as well as sweetly sensuous echoes of music of Jules Massenet (1842 – 1912), especially his opera, Manon (1884), but the intangibly physical mysticism, and the pure sexiness of Debussy’s later work is already here. No wonder his conservatoire teachers warned him “He should be beware of this vague Impressionism which is one of the most dangerous enemies of artistic truth.” How right they were without realising it.

Claude Debussy (1862 – 1918) as a young man

So I have reached the year 1887 and I can feel the earth shift beneath my feet. There are new kids on the block and there’s no denying that this new generation of composers, learning from the past, would change the future of music. Until now, I hadn’t realised that three composers, in particular, all born within a couple of years of each other, formed, almost single-handedly, the voice of the next great period of classical music. They were, of course, Claude Debussy (1862 – 1918), Gustav Mahler (1860  – 1911) and Richard Strauss (1864 – 1949). My listening list for 1887 – 1888 included not only Debussy’s first masterpiece but also Strauss’ first symphonic poem, the wonderfully confident Aus Italien, and Mahler’s exciting Symphony No. 1. Hang onto your seats, music lovers, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

 

 

Gustav Mahler (1860 – 1911) as a young man

 

 

Richard Strauss (1864 – 1949) as a young man

So one young man’s poem led me to the work of three more young men but from a very different era – thank you Dante Gabriel Rossetti for your own work but also for inspiring this young French maverick to invent his own way forward. When still a student, he was rebuked for disregarding time honoured compositional traditions. ‘What rule do you follow?’ asked the bemused conservatoire Registrar. ‘My pleasure,’ young Claude replied. It has become our pleasure too. Here is the opening of La Damoiselle élue. Something for the weekend, I suggest.

The post Rossetti’s The Blessed Damozel inspires the eroticism of a young Claude Debussy and a new era is born. appeared first on Wolfie Wolfgang.

The Times ran an article yesterday that might have seemed dull to some but was pure delight to a classical music geek like me. They asked nine different writers to name their favourite numbered symphony – each writer having just one number.  Nine, of course, is the magic symphonic numeral after Beethoven’s monumental canon of symphonies. Schubert wrote nine too – or eight and a half if you feel his Unfinished sounds, well, unfinished. Mahler, neurotic in most things was positively frenzied over the thought that he would die, like Beethoven, after finishing his 9th so he called his real 9th, The Song Of The Earth, a song cycle and then wrote what we call his 9th and, well naturally, he died before finishing his 10th – just like Ludwig Van.

Well, I can’t resist a musical game so I had a go myself and toughened up the rules by saying that you can only have a composer once in your list of nine symphonies. Inevitably things had to go mostly because the greatest symphony composers wrote a lot more than one great symphony and, also, Haydn and Mozart  didn’t get going until they got to double figures but hey, it is only a game.

So here it is, my list of nine symphonies I would never want to live without allowing for the fact that there are a whole lot more out there  as well:

1)  Walton – Symphony No. 1 in B flat minor, Op 11

2)   Elgar – Symphony No. 2 in E flat, Op 63

3)   Beethoven – Symphony No. 3 in E flat Op 55 (Eroica)

4)   Brahms –  Symphony No. 4 in E minor, Op 98

5)   Sibelius – Symphony No. 5 in E flat, Op 82

6)   Tchaikovsky – Symphony No. 6 in B minor, Op 74 (Pathetique)

7)  Shostakovich – Symphony No. 7 in C, Op 60 (Leningrad)

8)   Schubert – Symphony No. 8 in B minor, D.759 (Unfinished)

9)   Mahler – Symphony No. 9 in D minor

Now it’s your turn – send me your list and we can compare, er, notes.

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