Natalie Clein at Wigmore Hall

Natalie Clain, with Yeol Eum Son, Wigmore Hall, Sept 23

The final event in my bespoke, self-curated September festival was fittingly a favourite artist in the favourite venue with the big name topping the bill of the last two weeks of specially selected gigs. And it will last longest in the memory, good though all the others were.
Natalie has made Bloch something of a personal project, his music being in her own DNA, she says. And maybe, it turns out, mine too.
The Suite from Jewish Life is drenched in the melancholy of that culture, those thousands of years of mournful yearning, whether that be due to the endless wait for the messiah or a character trait born of wandering, rootless after the fall of Jerusalem, through stetl and ghetto, disapora and persecution. But it is moving, deeply felt stuff as long as we don't allow in self-pity on too large a scale.
Natalie's well-thought-out programme possibly began with its high point and receded gradually from it but that was not to be regretted. Bloch's Suite no.1 for solo cello had more dance rhtyhms in it, perhaps recalling the Bach Suites although it is to easy to compare much solo cello music with those cornerstones of the repertoire and it is not to be encouraged.
Yeol Eum Son was back for Vaughan Williams's Six Studies in English Folksong, much more than an accompanist and on occasion rivalling Natalie for our attention. The old maestro of Down Ampney was here as much an elegist for the English pastoral as Bloch is for the Old Testament faith. There was no need to bring pre-conceived ideas of those lost idylls to inform one's listening, with which Vaughan Williams had imbued each piece. Essentially songs without words, some songs are often better like that, music being more versatile without texts to direct our interpretation or offer overly specific meaning.
Frank Bridge's Cello Sonata in D minor was bigger, more expansive and, guessing a bit here, musically more complex and a fine thing but thus not quite as readily placeable as Bloch or Vaughan Williams. It is a bit of a surprise to find that it is the earliest piece of these, and Bridge pre-deceased the other two, but it is the least 'nostalgic' work, too, less backward-looking. If Natalie missed a note or two, I'm not that concerned and always think of Tasmin Little talking about one coherent performance being better than a technical perfect one. The cello is the richest and most gorgeous of musical instruments and never sounded better than in her hands in Fairford Church several years ago.
If she happens to find herself discussed here (some artists do, but she might have more to do than look herself up), I'd be delighted to be reminded of the cellist she made reference to as 'strong', among other things, to put her alongside Rostropovich, Casals, Isserlis, Yo Yo Ma, Tortellier and all in yet another field that one could devote one's whole time to were it not for everything else.

So, it was a visit that exceeded all expectations after I'd waited for a delayed coach at Portsmouth's Ferry Terminal with much foreboding about if the trip was worth it. Of course it was, not just for the concert but for the latest and long overdue use of my friend's ever sympathetic hospitality. I think next time we might need to cover 1974 in more detail, a brief run through the Ablative Absolute and debate which was Medicine Head's best record. And after all that, presumably as a reward for regaling them all evening with some wine-fuelled stories from my wide repertoire, a fine blend of Peter Ustinov, Ken Dodd and Brian Clough, I came away with the spectacular bonus of Jane Glover's new book on Handel in London ahead of my birthday next month. When you've known someone for 47 years, and understood each other very well, one knows a suitable present to buy. I hope he enjoys Mud's Greatest Hits in January.