AURORA ORCHESTRA

                                                         The Maltings, Snape (April 10 and 11)

If ever there were a concert of two halves, the opening one of Britten Pears Arts’ Spring 26 season, would certainly qualify.

The Aurora Orchestra has gained fame for its questing, revelatory approach to some of the most demanding works in the repertoire, playing from memory, so what was it doing, sitting at music-stands for a performance of one of the most ethereal works in the choral repertoire, usually out of its ambit?

This was the Faure Requiem, boasting here a huge choir (BBC Singers and the Britten Pears Chamber Choir) which treated us to an unadvertised programme-booster in the form of a Josquin Motet, warm of tone, securely balanced, but in reality totally superfluous.

The Faure itself flowed beautifully under Nicholas Collon’s shapely-phrasing baton, but the chorus, however fluent its delivery was just simply too strong, underpinned by an orchestra sounding almost Wagnerian at times, though the prominent violas were gorgeously rich and eloquent. This was Faure’s version of the score which calls for a solo violin to beatify the Sanctus and In Paradisum, but here it was all but inaudible, blame equally attached to this brash acoustic environment, the decision not to employ more violins in this building totally unlike Faure’s ecclesiastical milieu, and the under-projection of the performer.

Of the two vocal soloists, soprano Ceferina Penny’s delivery was far too full for the angelic purity of the famous Pie Jesu, but baritone Jonathan Eyers brought engagement and dignity to his solos.

The second half brought a transformation. All three works featured an underlying context of percussive ostinato, beginning with John Adams’ Short Ride in a Fast Machine, Collon’s players exuberant and extrovert as they kept up the irresistible momentum of this exhilarating piece.

Then came the reflective, introverted Ravel Concerto for Piano Left Hand, Nicholas McCarthy the consummate soloist making us realise that Ravel was discovering things most pianists didn’t realise were possible with their left hand alone – for example, McCarthy bringing out powerful bass notes with the left hand’s two weakest fingers. Here was also a huge range of dynamic light and shade from the soloist, and from the orchestra the grim, unrelenting ostinato march forward.

We ended with a Ravel Bolero such as I have never previously heard, but one which I am so thrilled to have done now. From Collon’s almost inaudible spoken introduction I was able to pick out the words “ballet for orchestra”, and this indeed was what it was.

This was a total justification of the Aurora’s philosophy of playing from memory, for here, while heroic solo snare-drummer Henry Baldwin launched proceedings deliciously on the verge of inaudibility from the stage, the musicians gradually made their entry from various parts of the auditorium, led off by the plaintive flute of Fiona Kelly, rather like a Haydn "Farewell" Symphony in reverse.

As the orchestral crescendo increased, so did the choreography of the musicians, their movements building in intensity as did the music. Many players ranged themselves up the auditorium stairs between the aisles, which meant I certainly heard string detail never previously encountered. And Collon just stood by the side until the cataclysmic final bars, all his work achieved in meticulous preparation.

We heard Aurora at its best self-justification next evening, with a programme devoted entirely to Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring, with the orchestra’s liberating discarding of sheet music in performance very much vindicated.

The first half was a brilliant presentation devised by Jane Mitchell telling of the conception and buildup towards the premiere of this world-shattering ballet. Two engaging actors, Karl Queensborough and Sarah Twomey, joined by the this time well-miked Nicholas Collon as narrator, delivered the thoughts of impresario Diaghilev, choreographer Nijinsky and coach Marie Rambert, all the while interspersed with orchestral illustrations (played, of course from memory) and pianistic underpinning from the selfless John Reid.

There was even audience involvement, when Collon built up chords from the auditorium, and later complex clapping rhythms. The whole conception was a triumph, but there was too much orchestral giving-away of music we would shortly to be hearing, and no mention of the heroic Pierre Monteux, conducting countless orchestral rehearsals before battling through the premiere.

The second half’s performance itself was driving, energetic, and with a real sense of liberation from the tyranny of notation. Collon’s conducting, too, was an object-lesson in how the music of this amazing score can over-ride the necessary dots.

But all was not yet over. We had an encore such as no other, players ranged throughout the auditorium surrounding us with the sound of an excerpt, all freed from their music-stands, and all obviously enjoying themselves so much.

Christopher Morley