The concert on Saturday 25^th January 2003 was perhaps the most complex and varied that Crwth has attempted to date. It was performed by five talented musicians playing six different instruments (including the human voice), and featuring music by eight composers and words in three languages. A concise review is not easy.

Robert Codd (on bassoon) and Jean Marsden (on oboe and oboe d’amore) each performed sonatas by the Bezozzi brothers. Robert and Jean both stood to perform and, as a result, we were able to admire the complexity of their instruments and the skill that is needed to produce their exquisite sounds. Both had reason to pause between movements to make adjustments. Indeed, for a moment, it appeared that Robert might need to apply a screwdriver as he tackled stops at the top end of his rocket-launcher bassoon. And then it was Jean’s turn, in her case pulling out her cigarette papers to dry some sticky pads. This attention to the detail, together with the fine acoustics of the Brunswick Methodist Church, ensured that we were treated to distinctive sounds of a high quality.

Between these two sonatas, Robert performed the delightful piece for bassoon and piano by Gabriel Pierné. Also there were two short contributions to the programme from Bach. The first part of the concert concluded with a scintillating rendering by Elin Manahan Thomas (accompanied by John Reid) of two poems by Louis Aragon set to music by Poulenc. The first was a timely reflection on life in the midst of war (‘the overturned cars and the unprimed weapons and the badly dried tears’). In marked contrast, Poulenc’s direction in regard to the second, Elin informed us, was that it should be played ‘unbelievably fast’. She and John certainly managed that, leaving the audience buzzing at the interval.

The second part of the concert started with the first performance of a piece specially composed for the concert by Martin Pring. As with Poulenc, a favourite poem had been selected and set to music. In Martin’s case it was ‘The Bee Oracles’ by Edith Sitwell. In his programme notes he comments on its ‘subtle ebb and flow’ and concludes rather disarmingly that he has no idea what it means. The middle section of the poem is a hymn of six virtually identical verses, but referring variously to the elements of earth, water, fire, air, sun and thunder. Although Pring evoked these elements cleverly, this seemed to clash with the attempt to maintain a sense of ebb and flow. I felt he could have used the bassoon, oboe and soprano voices to better effect in representing the six contrasting elements. Perhaps I was sitting in a poor position acoustically, but it seemed that for too much of the time Elin was having to do battle with the two wind instruments.

Possibly as a result of the effort involved in performing this challenging piece, John Reid came out to explain that the musicians had decided to switch the running order of the concert. His brief description of Ravel’s Sonatine to follow was helpful, and left us looking forward to spotting the neo-classical and impressionist elements. I for one was wholly unprepared however for the sublime music that issued from the grand piano. The contrast between a ‘self-sufficient’ solo instrument and the testing fruits of ensemble playing could not have been more starkly illustrated. Moreover John played the Ravel without music; he clearly loved it and knew it inside out. So here was an opportunity to close one’s eyes and be transported from January in Swansea to April in Paris and in the applause that followed he was rightly acclaimed by Crwth’s anonymous whooper.

Next Elin Manahan Thomas came forward to introduce the songs that both Brahms and Strauss had composed on behalf of Shakespeare’s Ophelia. She explained how those of Brahms were unaccompanied and broody, whilst those of Strauss, accompanied by the piano, were rather more animated and agitated. Her German diction proved as good as her French (for the Aragon poems) and the contrast between the two composers was a revelation. The performance was enhanced by her impressive ability to act out the part of Ophelia.

And so to the Finale of what was turning out to be a stunning evening. Elin was left on the stage to perform single-handedly Judith Weir’s opera ‘King Harald’s Saga’. The programme notes were helpful in supplying us with some basic information but again we were rather taken aback when the performance began. What was most striking was the way in which Elin enunciated the libretto so clearly – this time in English – and how the music underpinned rather than overwhelmed the narrative. There was a touch of the blood and guts of Gangs of New York in the description of the battle of Stamford Bridge, and a touch of wit in the unmusical voice of the Yorkshire infantryman. The concluding lines, the words of an Icelandic sage reflecting on the failed adventure, confirmed the futility of war.

Weir’s device of spoken introductions was particularly clever in consolidating the three-part structure of the work and in echoing radio opera. But what you do not get on radio is sight of the performance and here in the Brunswick Methodist Church we had Elin Manahan Thomas using all her extensive theatrical and musical skills in playing the many different parts. It was a real tour de force, one that the audience fully appreciated. When the five musicians returned to the stage to thunderous applause, they were clearly as pleased as anyone with their combined efforts in producing a truly memorable evening.

As we left the Church to face the nightlife of St Helen’s Road and the distant Kingsway, someone commented that it was a pity that Tony Blair had not been there to appreciate the sadness of Aragon’s poem and the comic tragedy of King Harald’s failed adventure. What one wonders would the Icelandic sage make of Vice-President Tony’s plans to sail across the seas to tackle the Iraqi upstart at Babylon Bridge?