A journey of remarkable emotional depth: Laurence Kilsby and Ella O’Neill at Wigmore Hall

Brahms, Saint-Saens, Wolf, Schoenberg, Stenhammar, Rebecca Clarke, Hugh Wood, Weill, Britten, Jake Heggie; Laurence Kilsby, Ella O’Neill; Wigmore Hall
Reviewed 15 September 2024

With a a remarkable combination of confidence and style, the young duo filled the hall with great presence in a thoughtful programme of remarkable emotional depth

Tenor Laurence Kilsby and pianist Ella O’Neill released their debut recital, Awakenings earlier this year [see my review] and on Sunday 15 September 2024 the two were at Wigmore Hall to present a programme based around the disc. Using a sequence of songs by Brahms, Saint-Saens, Wolf, Schoenberg, Stenhammar, Rebecca Clarke, Hugh Wood, Weill, Britten and Jake Heggie, the programme took is from innocence through experience to sheer animal passion.

We began with Brahms, Unbewegte laue Luft going from mesmerisingly still yet intent and concentrated to far more as Kilsby’s rich tone expanded as Brahms unleased his inner passion. Saint-Saens and Wolf then returned us to innocence. Saint-Saens’ La coccinelle proved to be a delightful narrative, with Kilsby relishing the story’s details full of vocal colours and wit. Then Wolf’s Der Knabe und das Immlein took us on a similar journey, the two performers filling out Wolf’s narrative until the touching end.

At rest, Kilsby had quite a demure presence on stage, but he performed with a remarkable combination of confidence and style, effortlessly filling the space with presence without overdoing things. 

Schoenberg’s Galathea and Stenhammar’s Flickan kom ifrån sin älsklungs möte took us into more disturbing territory with depicting two unequal relationships. Schoenberg’s song is one of his Brettl-Lieder, not quite cabaret songs, but O’Neill’s vividly rich piano accompaniment complimented Kilsby’s impulsively overflowing vocal line, then Stenhammer was more discreet, simple yet effective and remarkably disturbing. 

It was John Masefield’s words that were made to really count in Kilsby and O’Neill’s account of Rebecca Clarke’s Seal Man with more lyrical moments, including the terrific climax contrasting with more narrative sections. This was intense story-telling, culminating in the wonderfully dead pan conclusion, ‘She was drowned, of course’. We returned to Wolf for a more disturbing aspect of relationships. Nimmersatte Liebe movef from the poised to the intense as love seemed to incorporate pain, the two performers made the central verse quite dead-pan yet disturbing with the ending somewhat happy yet weird.

Hugh Wood’s Horizon from his Robert Graves’ cycle Wild Cyclamen paired Kilsby’s seductive vocal line with the disturbed habanera of the accompaniment, Kilsby stretching out the line in way the incorporated the poem’s somewhat unsettling mentions of infidelity. 

With Kurt Weill’s Complainte de la Seine was are in far darker territory, and though cabaret in inspiration, Kilsby sang it finely full of evocative tone yet bringing out the disturbing seduction of the words. We had more unsettling relationships with Schoenberg’s Schenk mire deinem goldenen Kamm with its references to Maria Magdalena. Kilsby and O’Neill wisely did not go over the top here, the result was all the more intense for being controlled.

Britten’s relatively early (1938) Auden setting, Fish in unruffled lakes sounded fantasticc with the magic web of the piano and the glittering vocal writing, yet unfortunately the words rather disppeared in the profusion of Britten’s notes, despite Kilsby working hard. 

There are plenty of words too in Britten’s canticle, My beloved is mine but Kilsby delivered all of Francis Quarles text admirably. He and O’Neill began with poise, the voice controlled over the flowing piano, yet Britten’s harmonies never quite settle, gradually they became more intense and Kilsby’s emphasis of the melismatic passages brought out the work’s sense of passion, leading to a sequence vivid middle verses befrore the calmly considered final verses, yet here the imagery was disturbing. At the end their calm intensity, with Kilsby’s unfolding line, led to quiet affirmation.

We had more Rebecca Clarke with the surging passions of her remarkably restless setting of Blake’s The Tiger, this is not the comfortable image that some composer’s create. Here, Clarke really pointed up all the vivid passion of the text and both Kilsby and O’Neill went to town. This continued with the final song, the remarkable and wonderful Animal Passion from Jake Heggie’s 1997 cycle, Natural Selection. O’Neill gave Heggie’s tango her all whilst Kilsby’ delivered the words with snarling relish. Wonderful.

There was an encore, Sondheim’s Losing my mind.

There is still something of the choir boy about Laurence Kilsby, yet one who relishes a dirty story. His chameleon-like performance gave just the right colour and tone to every song, each illuminated by the remarkable richness of timbre of his voice. Ella O’Neill was a willing and able partner, the two taking us on a journey of remarkable emotional depth, yet one that relished the more disturbing elements.

Can I just add a word of commendation for Lucy Walker’s programme notes. Too often in recitals, we get printed details of the individual songs leaving us to work out what the performers’ connection to the programme is. Here everything was laid out in a thoughtful way.