Reading the programme notes in Prokofiev’s Ivan the Terrible I get lost in questions of this and other composers’ relationship with the regimes of which their music speaks and of just how many versions exist of this piece, which is fashioned from Prokofiev’s music for the film of the same name. I think I’ll leave such thoughts with David Gutman, author of the programme notes.
As a member of the choir, I have been grappling in a far more intimate way with the challenges of learning the piece, along with my fellow singers. I think of the well-trodden phrase “a bad workman always blames his tools” even as I think of the score we worked from, with words and music which were, at best, hard on the eye – and that’s before we even attempted the Russian. We have been “note bashing” and – come to that – “word bashing”, with the help of Natalie as our chorus master, Alex (“Sacha”), our language coach and Roger on the piano. We have been through our usual phases along the way, wondering if we’ll ever get there – even as our first tutti rehearsal approached, we were still learning corners of the work and coming to grips with the words.
On Friday, we had our first encounter with Xian Zhang, our conductor for the piece. She is that rare creature, a female conductor, and, as such, the object of our curiosity. I creep in late for the piano rehearsal and cannot see her from my place at the edge of our awkwardly shaped room. Nor can I see just how diminutive she is in size. At the same time, she is like a ball of energy – her presence is so much larger than her physical size. Right from the beginning I find myself enjoying her approach. Her energy and enthusiasm combine with clear instructions to the choir, orchestra and soloists. Where some conductors would tread discreetly in their dealings with the soloists, she is open in giving her instructions so that I have a sense that we are all equals here.
As our first tutti unfolds so do the joys of the piece and of experiencing the work of my fellow performers. Early on the men rehearse Feodor Basmanov’s Song with Russian bass Alexei Tanovitsky. He turns to face the men so that they can hear each other, opening his arms wide. His is not the energy of one who is trying hard to get things right. Rather, his is the energy of one who sings and enjoys. He does. And so do we. In the same movement Anthony Stutchbury, a member of our tenor section, is charged with providing a shrill whistle in several places and takes instruction from Xian Zhang. David Jackson, a member of the percussion section of the London Symphony Orchestra is also charged with providing a shrill whistle in the next movement and I smile as he puts his fingers in his mouth in preparation, thinking of all those years of musical education.
Despite its themes, which include a good measure of violence as the men of the choir commit to a Russia forged on the bones of her enemies, the piece is above all – for me at least – tuneful. One colleague hears echoes of Chopin and Rimsky Korsakov. Another highlights a flavour of Orff’s Carmina Burana. I confess that I finally work out that the rhythm which catches my attention early on is reminding me of the song Love and Marriage (go together like a horse and carriage…). And the broad sweep of the orchestra at the beginning of the Song about the Beaver reminds me of Nancy singing As Long as He Needs Me in the musical Oliver. Somehow it doesn’t do to leave the concert singing Love and Marriage…
Sometimes, by the time the concert comes, my best moments have already come and gone. This evening though, I relish every moment of this lively and spirited music. I enjoy my own singing (including the occasional “extra” as I join the altos – why should they have all the best lines?). I enjoy the orchestra. I enjoy my fellow singers. I enjoy the soloists. And above all, I enjoy the conducting of Xian Zhang.
As I walk away on my way home I feel fulfilled, alive. Who could ask for more?