The Composers and Poets concert | Credit: Light Attitude

A Leeds Songbook

Two extraordinary concerts on one evening in Leeds provided ample evidence of the power of song. First up was ‘A Leeds Songbook’, a fascinating glimpse into the process of creating a song. The event was masterminded by Hannah Stone and Martin Iddon, who had recently gathered twelve poets and essentially ‘speed-dated’ them with an equal number of young composers until happy pairings were made. Creative workshops followed and we witnessed the resulting dozen songs.

Each couple took to the stage in turn, the composer introducing the number and the poet reading their text, and then a singer from the festival’s Young Artist Programme and a pianist performed the work. Musical styles ranged from traditional to experimental, poetry from free verse to haiku: subjects likewise veered from baking to nature, from suffragette Leonora Cohen to a motivating keep-fit instructress called Michelle. We never knew what was coming next, and that was its charm.

I’ll take one song as an example, ‘One of our own’, about footballer Kalvin Phillips: poet John Streatfield read his text with brio, then bass-baritone Charles Cuncliffe sang Obe Vermeulen’s composition with equal gusto, relishing its jazzy vibe and word play, at times reminiscent of Kurt Weill, and partnered by pianist Daniel Peter Silcock who valiantly joined him in his rhythmic finger clicking.

At the end of the concert Festival Director Joseph Middleton gave euphoric thanks and mid-speech was suddenly overwhelmed by emotion, and I don’t think that the performers could have had a better tribute. I felt as though I had stumbled into an artistic version of a maternity ward, with all the powerful highs and lows of new musical life.

Veronique Gens and Susan Manoff | Credit: Light Attitude

Véronique Gens recital

A far more controlled performance followed an hour later when French soprano Véronique Gens and American pianist Susan Manoff took the stage for some chansons by Gounod, Chausson, Polignac and Fauré, as well as Hahn – a composer she feels is underrated. Gens is a mistress of these songs and also that rarity – a white-hot performer.

Exuding chic, she was poised and economically precise of gesture. But Gens’s voice has a voluptuous quality, particularly rich in its middle. It has core rather than surface sound, thus she could colour her tone perfectly to match Polignac’s elegiac ‘Lamento’ or Chausson’s light musical setting of Verlaine’s ‘La chanson bien douce’. Hahn’s ‘Séraphine’ found her in her darkest voice, used again in Duparc’s ‘L’invitation au voyage’, as Baudelaire’s poetry gradually moved from airy to passionate.

Gens’s phrasing and dynamic control were exemplary and were matched by Manoff’s keyboard work, which ranged from unobtrusive to explosive. She is a contrastingly exuberant performer but the two personalities work perfectly with much generosity of spirit. Gens would sometimes step back or even stand behind the piano to ensure Manoff the limelight, which she always took with zest. They communicated rather lovingly, obviously a relationship where the smallest gesture is understood, and, as with all communication, listening is key.

A short but perfect concert that enraptured the audience.