No 37 -- Summer 1991 Edited by Michael Walters
It was an occasion of which the Duke of Plaza Toro would have been proud; seven fanfare trumpeters of the Scots Guards surpassing the tooting of a cornet––piston and enough pomp to satisfy several generations of the Plaza Toro family. Fortunately the band were not sordid persons who required to be paid in advance, and as a result the BBC Concert Orchestra supported by a 250–strong choir, played magnificently under the baton of Kenneth Alwyn.
The glossy (expensive) programme (containing 13 pages of relevant information, amidst 29 pages of advertisements) boasted of the track records of the soloists – the operatic and G&S appearances of Valerie Masterson, Gillian Knight, Donald Adams and Eric Roberts, and the most extensive G&S experience of Thomas Round, credited as producer of the concert; with presentation by David Jacobs for Radio 2 (broadcast at a later date), the line up seemed impressive.
But oh! what a lot of glitzy trash it all was! I suppose I should have heeded the warning of the most elaborate fanfare and rendition of the National Anthem I have ever heard (it was only for Princess Alexandra, and not a Plaza Toro in sight!). From that we launched into a very conservative selection of G&S pops which bore little continuity and were hardly showpieces for what little vocal talent there was to show off. Furthermore, the concert was very badly amplified, distorting voices and presenting the bizarre illusion of seeing the singers in front yet hearing them from (predominantly) the right hand side.
Valerie Masterson, perhaps the clearest performance of the evening, stole the vocal limelight with two big arias, and a wonderful chance to hear her all–too–brief "Minerva ... Oh, goddess wise". Gillian Knight was ... well, Gillian Knight. I personally dislike her voice which has no beauty, but at least she was the only performer who actually avoided the biggest pitfall of concerts such as these – she injected a bit of character into each of her pieces and thus managed to differentiate her roles. The others merely sang their pieces with little or no characterisation at all (and by that I do not mean hopping around which was all Eric Roberts seemed capable of doing).
Speaking of whom, Eric Roberts was the same flambuoyant self he showed with the New DOC last year (which I loathed then and still do) but fortunately the restrictions of the concert platform kept some slight control over him. Donald Adams seems to get "plummier" by the minute, making his diction very unclear, but his Mikado's song might be considered an exception, despite the most hideous laugh which seemed to send the audience into titters. The tenor of Thomas Round was a shadow of his D'Oyly Carte recordings and it was frankly embarassing to hear him struggling so in his solo; his weakness was cruelly exposed in "Stay Frederic Stay" next to the ringing soprano of Valerie Masterson.
It was very refreshing to hear the music from the platform rather than the pit, and Kenneth Alwyn did a noble job with the orchestra, although some of his choices of tempi were confusing. The first verse of "There is beauty in the bellow" was incredibly fast, and then suddenly he went down a few gears for the second, which evidently threw Eric Roberts completely. But on the other hand, the conductor had a particularly hard task trying to keep up with Thomas Round who raced ahead with no regard for the orchestra, and he seemed to lose all rhythm in "For love alone" (perhaps a case for some merciful cutting before the concert is broadcast on Radio 2?). The choir was made up entirely of amateur G&S societies from all over the country, and had minimal rehearsal time together as a single choir although this certainly didn't show during the performance. However, the resultant sound was unexpectedly churchy and "Eagle high" from Utopia Ltd. sounded as if it were from The Light of the World, although this religious atmosphere was later lifted by the choir's flag–waving antics and bobbing accompaniment to the finale of H.M.S.Pinafore.
Conclusions? At least the substantial financial proceeds were going to the Imperial Cancer Research Fund, since the artistic proceeds were negligible. The concert might have had potential (although wouldn't we all prefer a performance of a complete single opera instead?) but under the circumstances, it was one of those occasions which was swamped with pomp.
JEREMY FIELDING
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