A concert of Iberian allsorts

An orchestral concert of Spanish music with the participation of a soloist of the calibre and reputation of guitarist Simon Schembri is bound to fill the Manoel Theatre to the rafters.

Oddly enough, half the pieces played were composed by Frenchmen and another by a Russian. Such was the influence exerted by the flamenco sounds at the turn of the century that composers invented their own Spanish sound. But there is more to it than that.

Following the Carlist Rebellion in the 19th century, Spain fell into political and cultural torpor which only resolved itself in 1975 with the accession of Juan Carlos.

The fascination of Spanish culture, however, remained strong, which is why so many composers tried their hand at all sorts of musical variations on Iberian themes. The epitome of this is Bizet’s Carmen, which was written by Prosper Merimee, making it an all-French production.

Spanish music, whether composed by Spaniards or Frenchmen, Germans or Russians, is hallmarked by its rich orchestral colour. Nowhere is this more evident than in Carmen, for Bizet was a divinely gifted orchestrator.

However, of the pieces played on January 14 at the Manoel by the Malta’s Philharmonic under Joseph Vella’s baton, undoubtedly the most obvious was Rimsky Korsakov’s Capriccio Espangnol, while the most subtle was Ravel’s Pavane pour une Infante Defunte.

There are weak spots in the orchestra which have to be addressed: there is a need for more cellos - the three or four existing ones sound like hornets in open passages as they cannot play fortissimo all the time to be heard.

The other is the French Horn malaise which all but ruined the Ravel Pavane. The introduction to this was literally murdered by the horns as the intonation was dreadfully and painfully wrong.

What I found odd in the concert was the lack of sparkle and the unusually perfunctory renditions as opposed to performances. The orchestra appeared not fully responsive to the conductor’s efforts and overall it was lacklustre, long and, apart from the Aranjuez Concerto, more or less dull.

Schembri is a diva besides being a superb guitarist. Most of us were gobsmacked by his nonchalant and incredibly deft manicuring during the concerto itself; in fact it was rather distracting. The sound, the whole object of the exercise, was top notch.

A guitarist’s fingers and nails are determinants in the execution of guitar virtuoso pieces like Rodrigo’s Concerto. The slow movement was, as anticipated, electrifyingly beautiful and I am surprised at how, since Rodrigo, no composer has created another great concerto for the instrument .

The Ritual Fire Dance in Falla’s haunting El Amor Brujo concert suite always reminds me of Artur Rubinstein’s idiosyncratic manner of playing it on the piano.

Rubinstein, a living legend who had played Brahms for Brahms as a child, was also a showman who interpreted the great works with gusto but in excellent taste. This was the kind of interpretative performance missing at the concert.

Only rarely did the orchestra rise to the occasion. Perhaps the conductor paid so much attention in getting the Spanish sound right that the overall effect was too deliberate to be enjoyed with abandon, which is what these pieces are all about.

A large amount of rehearsals are required to clinch the spirit of these pieces and this should not be overlooked by orchestra management when preparing for a major concert.

Not everyone can be a Gustavo Dudamel when it comes to conducting Spanish music; however, without the exuberance of the colours and rhythm of the scores being brought out into relief with vim, vigour and zest the result was relatively disappointing.