James Arden checks out the garage rockers latest album.
The Christian rock band from Brighton bring religion to the masses.
Recipe for modern R'n'B album: liberal helpings of guest rappers and an overdose of sexual euphemisms.
Although Osborne didn’t incorporate any such frivolities into his recital last Wednesday as part of the University Concert Series, the evening proved equally memorable in different ways with the pianist choosing instead to demonstrate his grasp of core romantic repertoire with a programme of Schubert and Beethoven.
While the two men lived just streets apart in early Nineteenth-century Vienna, the two composers are often considered to inhabit rather different artistic styles, each achieving expression through different musical means. However, on this particular evening Osborne seemed to bridge the gap, masterfully highlighting the mercurial nature of every work in the programme without detracting from the individuality of either composer.
Opening with three short Bagatelles published after Beethoven’s death, Osborne flowed seamlessly through each, presenting them as one work characterised by quick changes in mood, graceful optimism disrupted by rambunctious outbursts in the C Major WoO 56, while rays of sunshine were coaxed from the tempestuous C Minor WoO 52.
With both performer and audience fully limbered up, it was time for the main course, two of Schubert’s expansive late piano sonatas, emotionally charged examples of the composer’s mature style written within the last few months of his life. Once more, in addition to his exemplary technical skill it was the contrast of the works that Osborne seemed to excel at bringing out. In the Sonata in A Major D. 959 he brilliantly married the stately stoicism of the opening movement’s main theme with the rapid cascading passages that followed, before juxtaposing brilliantly the tragic heartache of the Andantino with the glittering humour of the Scherzo and the exuberance of the finale.
The altogether more bizarre Sonata in B Flat Major D. 960, meanwhile, gave Osborne the chance to explore his darker musical side, portraying a sense of unease throughout, even the superficially brighter Scherzo rendered with a hint of anxiety; the unshakeable neuroticism of the final movement only enhanced by the frantic coda.
Schubert’s chamber music has featured highly on Osborne’s agenda lately with a recording of piano duets with Paul Lewis due out later this month on the Hyperion label and upcoming performances of the piano trios with Alina Ibragimova and Alban Gerhardt. Speaking to Steven after the concert, I asked whether there was something about the composer’s music that he felt he could personally identify with. While he asserted that he never performs music unless he feels a certain connection to it, he immediately leapt to Schubert’s ‘incredible tenderness’; ‘There’s so much of it, it’s so rich, especially those late sonatas. It’s so hard to put into words, sometimes you just have a strong feeling about something that you can’t explain.’
Dividing his time between solo recitals, chamber music and appearing with orchestras, I wanted to know whether Steven had a particular preference for any of the three performance contexts. Ever the diplomat, he cited the challenges and rewards of each: ‘When playing solo, you have to create everything yourself, which in a way is great but if you’re not feeling on form it means there’s no one else to lift you up. Then with orchestras, of course, you can have clashes with the conductor’. However, he finally revealed a leaning towards chamber music: ‘It’s where I learn the most, from working with people that I respect, people who have different strengths to mine’.
You must log in to submit a comment.
