A Christmas Concert
Liverpool String Quartet’s A Christmas Concert at the Bombed Out Church was the prototypical game of two halves.
The concert kicked off with the Liverpool String Quartet, dressed in an endearing array of Christmas themed jumpers and bobble hats. There were a few groan-inducing dad puns from the cellist (Nick Byrne), which in the context of the flowing mulled wine were-well received and set the scene for a jolly evening’s entertainment.
The setting was charming. We sat under a semi-permanent perspex awning, bedecked in strings of fairy lights, whilst the musicians were set up under an up-lit gazebo, near what would have been the altar. Occasional downpours of rain drummed above us, and gusts of wind bellowed down the microphones, making us feel like we were wrapped in a warm cocoon of music, battling against the elements.
The string quartet were excellent. This was the first time I had heard them, but it won’t be the last. If you are yet to hear them play, I highly recommend taking the next opportunity you have to do so. You won’t be dissapointed.
The programme was well chosen. We started off with Winter from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, prefaced by an understated reading of Vivaldi’s own sonnet of the same name. The reading set the scene and was used as a teaching aid to tell the audience which bowing techniques to listen out for (a lesson gratefully received). The playing was exquisite. The quartet are really tight. They displayed real dynamic control throughout, using a variety of bowing techniques to paint a glorious picture of the season, from the urgent shrieks of icicles, to the stormy swell of the largo.
After Vivaldi, we were treated to another Winter, this time from Cuatro Estaciones Porteñas by Ástor Piazzolla, a delightful tango. It was a lovely change of mood, again played wonderfully.
Next came Howard Blake’s The Snowman. Unfortunately this is where the evening suffered a marked drop-in quality. The narrator of the piece was monotone Mike McGear McCartney, perhaps the least colourful thing to come out of Liverpool since the M62. His lack of tonal variation, disengagement from the text and tedious ad-libs masked the magic of the music. It was the aural equivalent of graffiti on the side of the Bombed Out Church – and not Banksy, just rubbish tagging.
The iconic Walking In The Air refrain was sung by four presumably professional singers who were inoffensive enough, but presumably were hoping for more.
The audience reciprocated with luke-warm applause, presumably out of relief that Mike was about to shut up and they could get back to listening to the quartet.
The third act was made up of ‘crowd-pleasers’, Christmas carols, Shakin’ Stevens and the like, played expertly by the quartet and warbled over by Matt Lammin and Friends, often in tune. This brought no end of delight to the audience, though it was difficult to tell if they were enjoying the singing or just pleased to be out for the night. In fairness to the singers, it was a perilously cold evening, with rain beating down on the gazebo above them. Perhaps they would sing better under better circumstances, but a lack of vocal control and some pitchy moments weren’t great augurs.
The grand finale of another romping Christmas classic would have left the audience buoyed up for the journey home were it not immediately undercut by monotone Mike gatecrashing back onto the stage, commandeering the microphone and demanding to know who had parked in front of his car, as he was keen to get home. Yeh, Mike… you and everyone else!