The Wheel of Fortune

"Experience the thunderous power of Carl Orff's Carmina Burana like never before". So went the blurb on the Royal Albert Hall website...

So, of course, Madam Arcati and I simply had to book tickets for this one-off performance on Sunday!

On the bill were The Philharmonia Orchestra (conducted by David Hill), the very lovely Ailish Tynan (soprano) [who we know from being a regular guest on Radio 3's In Tune show when Sean Rafferty was still presenting it, before he unceremoniously departed], Sean Boylan (baritone), Robyn Lyn Evans (tenor), and the combined forces of the Highgate Choral Society, The London Chorus, The Bach Choir, Wimbledon Choral Society and The Southend Boys' Choir - 400 voices in all! Needless to say, we were excited.

As we were by merely being there...

But first... the opening segment was a sublime exercise in musical excellence all of its own, as the orchestra launched into the lively wake-up call that is Glinka's most famous overture:[Needless to say, there is no coverage from the evening itself, so you'll have to make do with an American combo instead...]

Boston Philharmonic Orchestra, cond. Benjamin Zander - Overture to Ruslan & Lyudmila [Glinka]

That was merely the amuse bouche, however. As my dear reader will be well aware, there is nothing we like more than a young man running his fingers all over a massive organ, and so it was that the floor shook and our chests rattled, as we experienced for the first time the 9,999 pipes of the one in the Hall - on Saint-Saens' paean to the instrument! [Again, unfortunately no footage is available of the young Paul Greally's fingering skills - so here's one from the Proms from a few years back].

Orchestre de Paris, cond. Paavo Järvi - Symphony No 3 in C minor, Op 78, "Organ" [Saint-Saëns]

Catching our breath, it was time for the interval, a drink, a pee and a fag (and some more photos)...

...then it was time for the "main course".

Some wise person once said "if a thing is worth doing, it's worth over-doing". That's an epithet that could have been written for Orff's 1936 "magnum opus" Carmina Burana [a work that has, incidentally, had a chequered history; it, like its composer, was at first condemned by the Nazis as "decadent", and later embraced by them]

It's a brilliant cantata, that perhaps surprisingly has its origins in some deeply cynical, satirical and anti-religious texts originating in the 13th century. I'll leave it to the Carnegie Hall website to explain its complexities:

Orchestrally, the score of Carmina Burana relies upon a large ensemble with an enormous battery of percussion. The work contains 25 individual movements separated into four major sections and a prologue, “Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi” (“Fortune, Empress of the World”). The opening chorus, “O Fortuna,” conjures the relentless drive of Fortune with its four-note motivic idea, pulsating rhythms, and gradually expanding orchestral canvas. The lament over the fickleness of Fortune continues in “Fortune plango vulera,” with Orff using a strophic scheme alternating men’s voices with the full chorus.

The first section of the score falls into two parts, with the first entitled “Primo vere” (“In Spring”). The movement “Veris leta facies” begins with an awakening call from high woodwinds and piano before the chorus rises from the lowest registers to greet the change of seasons. “Omnia sol temperat” presents the first solo voice in Carmina Burana, a baritone who compares the joys and pains of Love to Fortune’s inconstancy. “Ecce gratum” is a choral ode to Spring, brightly invoking the spirit of folk dances in another strophic plan.

The second part of the first section, “Uf dem anger” (“On the Green”), opens with a literal dance for orchestra, emphasizing strings, woodwinds, and horns. Another choral ode in Latin and German follows, “Floret silva,” praising the newly flowered forest and the games it offers younger lovers. The spirit of playful love continues in “Chramer, gip die varwe mir,” now with the addition of sleigh bells. The ninth number in the score, “Reie,” opens with another dance for orchestra followed by a succession of choral passages that alternate between erotic courtship and outburst. The brief final movement of “On the Green” opens with grandiose fanfares and proclamations but ends smuttily with a lusty statement about the Queen of England.

“In Taberna” (“In the Tavern”) forms the central section of Carmina Burana and presents various songs inspired by drinking and carousing. The solo for baritone “Estuans interius” is another jeremiad about the misfortunes of love. The rotating misery of Fortune takes a humorous guise in the movement “Olim lacus colueram,” with a tenor singing the plaintive song of a swan as it roasts on a spit. “Ego sum abbas” parodies monkish plainchant as the baritone assumes the character of a drunken abbot. The final movement, “In taberna quando sumus,” conjures up the whole rowdy world of a tavern with its gambling, drinking, and debauchery as if it were a Breughel canvas come to life.

The mood goes fully amorous and ribald in the next section, “Cour d’amours” (“The Court of Love”). The opening movement, “Amor volat undique,” features children’s voices smugly praising couples in love while the soprano soloist depicts the pain of those who remain alone. “Dies, nox et omnia” presents the lovelorn baritone, the love’s sorrows pushing him to the highest reaches of his tessitura. “Stetit puella” presents a statuesque vision of a young girl adorned in red, perhaps the same sweetheart the baritone pines for in “Circa mea pectora.” “Si puer cum puellula” presents the baritone and solo members of the chorus acapella, extolling the delights of fleshly love. The full chorus returns in “Veni, veni, venias” in another roundelay of lust. A meditative air returns with the soprano’s solo movement, “In trutina,” as the choices of desire and chastity are weighed.

...speaking of which - Miss Tynan performed this beautifully for us, but [again, thanks to the lack of video footage of her] let's instead enjoy an utterly wonderful (and exceptionally camp) version by the late, great Lucia Popp:

Lucia Popp - In Trutina [Carl Off - Carmina Burana]

The story continues:

[following that] “Tempus est iocundum” pours forth in joyous waves as the soprano, baritone, chorus, and children’s chorus exalt the games of love before the soprano swoons in stratospheric ecstasy in “Dulcissime.”

The final section contains two movements. First, the epic “Ave formosissima” extols the great beauties of medieval literature: the princess Blancheflour, Helen of Troy, and the goddess of Love herself, Venus. Then, like a cataclysm, the true queen returns in all her fury—Fortune, Empress of the World, and the “O Fortuna” closes out the work.

It is, of course, that very finale that just about everybody knows best - and it was palpably the bit the whole audience in the Hall was waiting for, with very good reason. Four hundred voices, a full orchestra, drums, tubas, the lot?! We were in ecstasy.

Even the Netherlands' finest purveyor of "pop-classics" André Rieu, his orchestra and chorus pales in comparison with our evening's version [but it's all we have...]:

Andre Rieu, orchestra and chorus - O, Fortuna [Carl Off - Carmina Burana]

By the end of all that, we were absolutely drained!

An utterly stupendous, unforgettable (and unrepeatable) experience.