In equal scale weighing delight…

Sometimes, rehearsals are even (or certainly seem, at the time, to be) more exciting than the actual subsequent concert: especially when they begin with a run-through of a new work you have become rather attached to – for its occasionally quirky, but heartfelt beauty; its extremely perceptive use of the chosen source material (and thus inspiration); and its composer’s utter belief in the almost supernatural talents of its commissioners – the transcendent Orchestra of the Swan – for whom no challenge seems insurmountable: no matter how complex it appears (at first, second, and third, glance) on paper. Not only do your not-quite-set ideas about the piece quickly gel; but unsuspected textures and emphases, themes and rhythmic conjunctions, emerge – especially with the insightful oversight of David Curtis: conjuring clarity and structure from what could easily be imagined as overwhelming and difficult. (You can hear all the extended time and major hard work he has spent in preparation emerging in the thoughtful instructions and discussions; can observe his willingness to listen and assimilate others’ needs and wants and ideas; you can almost grasp his ability to comfort and reassure.)

If there had been any disquiet or nerves beforehand, not only were they (almost) invisible, they must have soon evaporated, such was the apparent aplomb – and audible wonderment – building from the first bars, rapidly, into that trademark transparency and crispness (not to mention the resulting deeply-affecting emotions). As a result, queries were resolved in an instant; enthusiasm was piled upon contagious enthusiasm; balance was sought, and then quickly found; and (for lack of better words) the music caught fire!

Hexachordum Apollinis…

I think the word I was looking for was bliss… – although any of its synonyms would probably have sufficed: ecstasy, euphoria, rapture, joy, elation, happiness, gladness, blessedness, etc. – the feeling that the opening notes of Mozart’s Serenade No.13 for Strings in G major always provoke in me: primarily, because the piece – better known as Eine kleine Nachtmusik – is so fantastically blissful; but also because, last night, this appositely-named piece of music was rendered nirvana by five extremely talented members of Orchestra of the Swan. The occasion was the Friends of Orchestra of the Swan fundraising soirée; and its proceeds are to be put “towards the orchestra’s projects in local care homes” – as worthy a cause as I can think of. As Artistic Director David Curtis said, in a brief speech, “it really does make a huge difference”.

Bliss was also writ large on each of the player’s faces – David Le Page and Rebekah Allan, violins; Adrian Turner, viola; Nick Stringfellow, cello; and Stacey Watton, double-bass – along with hearty dollops of concentration and communication. But, as I’ve probably set down on these (and other) pages far too many times, if there’s anything that marks OOTS out as unequalled – however many (or few) of its players are on-stage – it is this unique combination of talent and joy, combined with a healthy dose of friendly fellowship: a camaraderie that leaps forth with every single note sounded. As I’ve probably also documented too frequently: my hearing aids seem to ‘prefer’ such chamber ensembles and the sound they produce – the transparency of tone and the clarity of line granting the music an instant comprehensibility that requires no further interpretation, no further work, from me. It is enjoyment – nay, “bliss” – pure and simple. And all the better for it.