The stories we tell – about our lives, our communities, our social and political histories and our possible futures – sustain a perception of life as linear progression, with a clear beginning and end; that these stories may not always reflect the absolute truth is, on the whole, irrelevant. Myth, exaggeration, embellishment and improvisation are, for better or worse, fundamental to the human condition and the way we live in reality – balanced on the precipice of the present but clinging to the idea of past and future as a yardstick with which to measure our mortal spans. Music, perhaps above all other arts, represents this concept most vividly – relying on our memory of what we have just heard to make sense of what is about to occur. This concert presents three masterful iterations of storytelling that are rooted in adjacent artistic disciplines – literature, cinema, theatre and the oral tradition.
To tell a convincing story one needs a very particular vision and the ability to communicate it effectively. Alfred Hitchcock certainly possessed a singular vision which, allied to a genius for communication and an acute understanding of the psychology of audiences, made for a potent and highly captivating body of work. His penchant for juxtaposing beauty and horror is perhaps most evident in the 1960 film Psycho; its pristine monochrome print and carefully chosen camera angles are elegant and, yes, beautiful. Most importantly Psycho’s hypnotic, pacy storytelling is aided by a musical score of startling originality. Bernard Herrmann’s music has become almost as famous as the movie it serves so adeptly; boldly conceived for string orchestra – without wind, brass or percussion – its range of musical colour is astonishing. As a viewer, one is always aware of the music – a layer of existential dread – and, in the shower scene for example, it becomes an equal partner to Hitchcock’s relentless montage technique; crucially, though, it never overwhelms. I was impressed, upon seeing the score for the first time, by how simple and clear it appears on the page compared to how complex it sounds when paired with Hitchcock’s images.
Edvard Grieg created some of the most memorable and popular orchestral moments in all music. Indeed, Morning Mood and In the Hall of the Mountain King have entered the public consciousness to such an extent that we only need imagine a ‘sunrise over a beautiful pasture’ or a ‘troll cave’ for these pieces to materialise in our minds’ ear (the first and fourth movements of the suite). It is a testament to Grieg’s skill that he was able to so adeptly evoke mood and landscape in such a compelling manner. Writing incidental music for Ibsen’s play was – despite sounding effortless – something of a tortuous process. In 1874 he wrote to a friend: ‘Peer Gynt progresses slowly, and there is no possibility of having it finished by autumn. It is a terribly unmanageable subject.’
Notwithstanding this sentiment he was entranced by the text ‘so permeated with the Norwegian spirit’ and it undeniably drew something unbidden from his formidably creative well.
1001 Nights is a collection of Middle Eastern folktales compiled between the 8th and 13th centuries (popularly known as the Islamic Golden Age). Rising out of the oral tradition they represent a study in the art of storytelling itself. We are acutely aware that Shahrazad is spinning these tales – even as we thrill to the exploits of Sinbad and Aladdin – and we are cognisant of her dire situation – to remain alive the stories must continue until Shahriyar has realised the error of his ways. Eagerly appropriated by imperialists during the 18th and 19th centuries Arabian Nights became popular throughout the west and Russia, inculcating an image of Middle Eastern culture which, still today, has not been entirely dispelled. Rimsky Korsakov was beguiled by the decades long fashion for Orientalism and the ‘exotic’ which led to the composition of his most celebrated work. Korsakov is an irresistible charmer, however, and we immediately fall under the spell of his radiant orchestration and compositional dexterity – just as Shahriyar is bewitched by Shahrazad’s dazzling tales.
In Anton Lesser, we are fortunate to have the consummate storyteller. One of our finest actors, Anton makes us realise that the ‘story’ is never static – it is ever-changing, depending on situation, audience and who is telling the story. I have worked closely with Anton for the last two years and am consistently surprised – listening to him deliver the same text over many performances – by how new and fresh it always sounds; it is as if I have never heard it before, such is his awareness of nuance, interplay with audience reaction and his understanding of the importance of communication. We are honoured to have Anton as our Associate Artist this season.
A passion for storytelling and communication is also what sets Orchestra of the Swan apart. In the programmes we devise, our words and music shows, in our relationship with Warwick Schools Foundation and the communities we engage with, we believe that it is not enough to present a performance of works without a carefully designed narrative thread, without context or without any tangible relation to the journey of our lives and the human experience. We believe that music cannot and should not exist in a vacuum.
David Le Page
Artistic Director
