S2.E11O. From Melancholy to Euphoria. Verdi Don Carlo, Tchaikovsky October, Berwald Bassoon Concert Piece, Edwin York Bowen Viola Concerto

Welcome back to Perfect Pitch with Nick Healy Hutchinson and his fresh approach to the world of classical music. Whether you're an expert or a beginner, old or young. Perfect Pitch has something for everyone.

We haven't listened to any Verdi recently. And since yesterday, the 9th of October, was the anniversary of his birth in 1823, it seems a good way to address that. Of all its operas, Don Carlo is by some stretch the longest, lasting the best part of four hours, with five acts. That alone is a good enough reason for me not having to explain the plot. All you need to know for the purpose of this story is that it's a story of a doom love affair between Don Carlo, the son of Philip the King of Spain, and Elizabeth of Always. Both individuals are delighted with Marriage. But at the last moment, it seemed more expedient for Elizabeth to remain the king of the son. If you are a lyric teller, these operas are overflowing with the best possible tunes. And that's obviously rich for the base or the Goletto is one obvious exception. But this aria, sung by King Philip, is one of the great base moments of all his operas. She never loved me, he lamented. You could tell the first time she saw him and the disappointment on her face. You could really hear the pain in Ferruccio Fulanetta's voice in this live performance at the Metropolitan Opera and what a voice it is. Don Carlo is one of the very best with plenty of unexpected twists and turns to throw you off course. But don't expect to come out feeling too good about life. Any story which involves a grand inquisitor is never going to end well. But there are moments of plenty to say that. And this is definitely one of them. But my particular favorite because it's simplicity is so immediately evocative of autumn falling in ease and the passing of time. It really is the most charming miniature played here by Vladimir Ashkenazi. The first is Sweden's greatest export after ABBA and Volvo, namely Franz Burvat. We've listened to a fair amount of his symphonic music, but I recently came across this delightful concept piece for Platoon and Orchestra written in 1828. It's a platoon concert in orbit name, comprised of six different sections, but running without a break. He was playing almost constantly, and no such demands would ever be made of him in the symphonic setting. One particular part will be very familiar to you. For its plane used for the song There's No Players Like Home. Nowadays we will be more likely to associate it with its appearance at the end of the film The Wizard of Oliver over a hundred years later. But the original had actually been composed by Henry Bishop in 1823, five years before Burwell's composition. The melody was well known internationally by then, and Bellwell's view of it is not remotely double demonstrating perfectly equal to the winter's observation that the composers do not imitate the idea of the buttons overall and quite a test on the side of it. In this case, Patrick Hackinson with a light touch on the give list of the orchard conducted by Petri Zachary. The other composer I want to go back to is Edwin York Bowen, whose Tom Bowling fantasy overture we listened to in September last year. He's chiefly known for his piano works, but he also wrote a concerto for the much maligned viola. A sort of neither one nor the other instrument. So much so that the ever-witty Thomas Beecham called it the hermaphrodite instrument. Not sure you get away with making that kind of an observation nowadays, but the gist of his remark is clear enough. Having a slightly darker timbre to the violin, the viola doesn't sing in quite the same way. So concertos are few and far between. Quite literally, in fact, from Telemann back in the early 1700s to Walton in 1921, which put the young composer well and truly on the map, and is now acclaimed as the greatest of them all. But Walton's is also a work which really brings out the melancholic sound which you might normally associate with a viola. Which is why he says finally I like the York Bower version written about ten years earlier. Very much in the romantic style, with a tone which elevates it to the heights of the violin. Please do let me know where and when you listen. I'm always wondering. I had an email from a distinguished professor in New York not long ago who told me that you listen to me while walking to work across Central Park. I love hearing things like that. It makes this also worthwhile. And if you were more ratings, that would be nice too. Just to bring everything up to date. That's certainly what it is. Is played here by Dian Mai with a German radio philomonic orchestra conducted by Brett Dean. Back as usual in a couple of weeks. Farewell, until then.