Red Priest’s only London performance of the year took place at Cadogan Hall on Tuesday night, presenting their new programme of music, whimsically titled Pirates of the Baroque. This is also the title of their latest album, released on 1 March under their own, newly-formed label, Red Priest Recordings.
The group have an extensive and demanding touring schedule, spanning across the whole of 2009, visiting venues all over the UK, Europe and many parts of the USA. As many performances as this could threaten a sense of ennui in the ensemble’s performance, but there was certainly no hint of this creeping in thus far. Red Priest have made their name by being different: they aim to take Baroque music and turn it on its head, making it visually exciting for a modern audience that crave more than a pleasing musical performance. Indeed, they proudly boast on all their marketing copy as being ‘the only Early Music group in the world to have been compared in the press to the Rolling Stones’; the Rolling Stones they are not, but their enthusiasm for breaking down the norms of classical performance mean that this is no ordinary Baroque ensemble. Their performance is drenched in choreography, which is almost flawlessly executed. It is original and it is daring. Sometimes it might even feel a little gratuitous, but one thing’s for sure – it certainly grabs your attention.
As they enter onstage, red floodlights illuminate the arced background of the stage, matching the red and black theme of the costumes, as each member of the ensemble bounds on stage. Harpsichordist Howard Beach cartwheels onto centre stage whilst the leather trousered Piers Adams (recorders) and violinist, Julia Bishop, leap and run in from the wings, with a flourish of energy that carries through into the opening Tambourin by Leclair. The piece is taken at a breakneck pace, but I would have expected nothing less with Adams leading – a player renowned for setting most tempi as fast as is humanly possible.
Adams offered useful, welcoming and interesting conversational points throughout the evening, immediately creating a real connection with his audience. These included an explanation of the piracy theme (the title is inspired by a viewing of Pirates of the Caribbean and the content by the incessant piracy of composers – of both their own work and those around them). They are energetic and emphatic in their movements, but they did feel a little off-centre and at such close proximity to each other for the majority of the time, that on occasion there was a slightly self-conscious atmosphere on this large stage. This was something that went with time, but I must admit was not what I expected from the riotous Red Priest.
An interesting kind of piracy was featured in one composer – Giovanni Paulo Simonetti, whose Sonata in C minor was supposedly composed in the eighteenth century. Simonetti is, however, the pseudonym of a composer writing in the 1940s who - as Adams says - felt the need to create a character to channel all the compositions he thought should have been written in the 1700s, but weren’t.
Although visually the group appear as one cohesive unit, the sound was not quite as consistently unified as I had hoped. Their performance style demands great fluctuations in tempo and as such, the need for a watertight ensemble is essential. The majority of the time, this was indeed evident, but very occasionally, as the tempo would race off at a stratospheric pace, an edge of the previous ensemble clarity was lost.
The programme featured another special Red Priest adaptation, of Albinoni’s famous Adagio (also pirated to some extent as the composition is in fact the work of Italian musicologist, Remo Giazotto, born in 1910). Unfortunately this wasn’t the magical moment I had hoped for, with what felt like a slightly weak start from the solo cello line. This piece confirmed a niggling doubt that had been festering with me from the start about the ensemble’s fullness of sound. Although a modern cello was used, Baroque bows and what I assumed were gut strings were used by both cello and violin. Perhaps the acoustics of the hall were not helping the group either, but there was a definite – if occasional - lack of depth in the tone, or fullness from the continuo, which was needed to support the warm sonority which was on constant supply from all recorders Adams played.
The highlight for me was definitely the Handel variations, the theme for which Handel apparently based on a tune he heard a blacksmith whistle as he passed him in the street. With just Adams and Beach playing in this, it allowed Adams to really showcase himself (although it must be said this is largely the perceived scenario even when the group perform as a whole). His stage presence is simply unbeatable; he moves around in a way that demands the audience’s attention. Coupled with this of course, his playing is stupendous; simply awe-inspiring. He combines implausible speed with sensitive variation in articulation techniques and a warm, rich, blossoming tone to create a performance that keeps the audience’s attention bolted to the stage.
Praise too must also go to Beach, whose continuo playing naturally takes a backwards seat most of the time, yet is the lynch pin for the whole performance – a rock for the others to stand upon. In a few rare moments, he is able to shine, for example in the Vivaldi concerto grosso that follows. Here, Beach offered a beautifully moving solo passage that oozed with emotion, yet he also made room for a little characteristic Red Priest comedy, hitting the highest notes with the tip of his nose. Gathering the sense that Howard is in fact the joker in the group, he continues to surprise us later on, as he bursts into song in the Couperin Suite (arranged by Howard himself) in the second half of the evening. Although, unfortunately, projection and diction were a little lost in the surrounding music, it certainly grabbed the audience’s attention once again and featured as an amusing highlight. Perhaps this would be more effective and less detached if it were continued as a feature for a little longer than the 8 bars or so that we were offered.
The Couperin suite, which was arranged from a selection of harpsichord pieces to create the story of a life in the day of a Baroque pirate, was highly visually stimulating – the ensemble beginning and ending in a state of slumper, passing though some flirtation, a spot of revelry and even a strangely drunken movement.
The creation of this tour’s programme of music is cleverly and thoroughly arranged and adapted. Despite what some would say is a frivolous theme, the opportunity it has given the group to inject intrigue, visually-stimulating costume, lighting and choreography is certainly attention-grabbing, if nothing else. This, coupled with the chance it gives them to delve into the intrigues of music piracy throughout the Western Classical music tradition, means that the theme has added depth and credibility, and comes with intriguing insights in the history of music.
I once read an interview with Piers, where he said that in every concert they perform, at least a couple of people will always walk out early on. Presumably they see the words ‘Baroque ensemble’ and think they know what they’re getting. Rest assured – until you have seen Red Priest perform, you have no idea what to expect. They’re no ordinary Early Music group; they’re much, much more.
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