French fantasies in an imperial palace

It has been a while since Emperor Charles V made peace to his arch-enemies, the French. That laudanum, also known as time, allows French music to display its magic in the Granada palace dedicated the Belgian Carlos, who was both Emperor of Europe, and King of Spain.

The Principality Monaco is so deeply rooted in Southern France, it can sometimes become another symbol of Gallic culture. The Orchester Philarmonique de Monte-Carlo is one example. It visited the Festival this year for two symphonic performances. This Festival is in its final stretch. His gaze was drawn to the first French romanticism and, more specifically, Hector Berlioz as the hierarch of a whole new generation of musicians who are interested in music telling stories, and if they could make it more truculent.

The night opened with Yazuki Yamada's 'Corsario'. This was an overture to yet another recreation of Byron’s work. This piece will satisfy your hunger without any sorrow or glory.

The first part of the piece was the 'Summer Nights,' a cycle of six songs written for soprano with reduced orchestra. Its title turned out to have been a ridiculous title for a Sunday afternoon in July. There was also some disappointment with Veronique Gens' interpretation. A very low voice, almost unheard when she gets down to the mezzo registers. She lacks expressiveness for these beautiful texts and has no sentimental vibration. Her beauty only flitted briefly over the scene on two occasions, for instance in the dialogue with the horns and in the fluttering first violin, also in women's hands.

Part of the respectable clapping after each song. This is not a good or bad thing, but it breaks the supposed magic of the six songs.

The best was yet to come. This was the reason for the evening. One of those orchestral performances which leave their mark at Festival is the 'Fantastic Symphony,' perhaps the most well-known and completed work by La Cote-Saint-Andre. The orchestra lost its fertile expressiveness and accuracy, as well as graceful articulation, when it had a man serving the role of concertmaster. The pianissimo passages are a romantic color, but it is still perceptible due to the sonority and passion of Carlos Quinto. He has a passionate verve in fortissimo, without missing a note, turning the orchestra into an circus, rich nuances, from the perfectly executed waltz to the staccato at the end, with his intent of restlessness.

Yamada, the orchestra's conductor, was just as good. He danced every passage, making precise entrances in this difficult work, convincing him with his eyes and marking his hands. His bodily jump was also a highlight. Although the bells might have had to be muted twice, it is still a fine speck, and a splendid interpretation for a night that recalls the best French romanticism.