When I started work at the Cheltenham Music Festival on the 2nd July, I couldn’t have guessed that two days later I would be page turning in a headline concert. The evening was one of the centrepieces of the festival, featuring world-renowned violinist Nicola Benedetti, cellist Leonard Elschenbroich, pianist Alexei Grynyuk, violist Benjamin Gilmore, and violinist Alexander Sitkovetsky.
My role as page turner offered a rare snapshot into the behind the scenes lives of these musicians. While sitting in on the pre-concert rehearsal, it was comforting to realise that international professionals share many of the poor rehearsal habits that we normal folk have: while Grynyuk determinedly practised a tricky passage, Sitkovetsky and Elschenbroich argued over which of them would win in a fight against one another, and the amused Benedetti began to text a friend in the corner.
It is testament to the incredible talent of these performers that, during rehearsal, they were able to maintain a spellbinding level of musicianship while simultaneously sharing jokes and tips on each other’s playing.
The atmosphere on the stage was electric. I was acutely aware of the intensity of the concert for audience and performers alike, yet felt oddly removed from the music itself. My part in all of it was as a cog: to carry out a function as quietly as possible, while the musical fireworks erupted all around me.
As an audience member, you forget the physical effort that goes into creating such a rousing performance. However, given my proximity to the artists, I was struck by the sheer visceral physicality of their performance, especially in the ‘rondo alla zingarese’, or ‘Gypsy rondo’ of the opening Brahms G minor piano quartet.
To see the tiny communicative glances and smiles between each performer gave me an impression of the power and spontaneity of each moment. All at once, I was acutely aware both of the mechanics of the performance itself and the incredible musicianship on display; the edges of all four musicians began to melt into one another to create one entity.
The most striking feature of the evening was the dynamically unbalanced nature of the programme. The last item, Shostakovich’s deeply introspective G minor piano quintet, could have felt anticlimactic; the explosive Brahms would arguably have suited the role of finale rather better. Yet the performers handled the immense emotional load born by the quintet very sensitively, leaving the crowd in stunned silence.
Cheltenham music festival has long been known as a cultivator of new music: the concert included ‘Butterflies Remember a Mountain’, a new commission by female composer Arlene Sierra. Sandwiched between the Brahms and the Shostakovich, the piece complemented the programme’s focus on emotional transparency; its delicate scoring and use of fluttering extended techniques created a darkly wistful atmosphere.
The balance of emotion between this contemporary work and more standard repertoire felt entirely genuine. The overall effect of the concert was therefore one of reserved introspection, with the audience left spellbound after the final bars.
The opportunity to meet and work with such talented musicians was a privilege. Viewing the festival from a unique viewpoint was an experience that I will remember for a long time to come.
