Carolyn Sampson, Matthew Wadsworth, Wigmore Hall, March 6th.
The acoustics of a concert hall are of no significance at all without a performance worthy of using them. It had been an objective that had been gathering momentum for some time to go and see the place from which the radio lunchtime concerts come from and, investigating the upcoming events a few weeks ago, it didn't take me long to pick Carolyn Sampson, hero of the Monteverdi Vespers at the Proms and the recent Mozart Mass CD, as the event of choice and with two seats available near the front, I invited a mate in the hope he might be impressed and he was.
John Dowland's decorous misery can be sumptuously forlorn, and was until the spritely pop song of its day, Come again, sweet love doth now invite. Carolyn does a winning actressy account but extends to fill the hall with consummate ease and crystal clarity.
Matthew Wadsworth plucks a gentle lute accompaniment until being given the office with a solo piece and an Anonymous Galliard before Carolyn returns androgynously to provide Britten's setting of folk songs set for theorbo rather than Julian Bream's guitar.
Stephen Goss was in the audience for the premiere of his Miller's Tale for solo theorbo that explores the instruments range beyond its accustomed continuo role but whether there is a big future for it as a virtuoso solo instrument remains open to conjecture.
O solitude, my sweetest choice and When first Amintas sued for a kiss were the playful, sensual highlights to finish with in which Carolyn's professed innocence happily doesn't convince at all, two out of three Purcell songs that already have me questioning why only one of them is on my Complete Secular Solo Songs by one of England's finest - because we can't be betting without Tallis, at least. Suddenly that 3 disc set doesn't look as complete as it says it is.
None of which detracts in the least from a sublime hour of extraordinarily esoteric enjoyment, a real thrill and a highly recommended date with Carolyn for the repeat of the concert on Sunday on the wireless at 1 p.m. where they might have to edit out some of the tuning of the lute and theorbo because I think it overran its hour of programmed slot.
That is what we gladly pay our licence fee for. I'd gladly pay it for Radio 3 alone and let us hope that those who would make the BBC more commercial and cater even less for such glorious forms of entertainment are held at bay for a lot longer yet.
David Green
- David Green (Books) is the imprint under which I published booklets of my own poems. The original allocation of ISBN numbers is used up now, though. The 'Collected Poems' are now available as a pdf. The website is now what it has become, often more about music than books and not so often about poems. It will be about whatever suggests itself.