Virtuosity & discipline: John Wilson & the Sinfonia of London in Respighi’s Roman trilogy & Walton’s Cello Concerto

Walton: Cello Concerto – Jonathan Aasgaard, John Wilson, Sinfonia of London – BBC Proms at Royal Albert Hall (Photo: BBC / Chris Christodoulou)

Verdi: Overture to La forza del destino, Walton: Cello Concerto, Respighi: Roman Festivals, Fountains of Rome, Pines of Rome; Jonathan Aasgaard, Sinfonia of London, John Wilson; BBC Proms at the Royal Albert Hall
Reviewed 24 July 2026

Italian warmth and vivid orchestral detail in a concert that gloried in technical virtuosity allied with real control and style, giving us a sense of magic, plus a more intimate view of Walton’s concerto

Having seen John Wilson and the Sinfonia of London recently at the Cheltenham Music Festival in an all-English programme [see my review], it was a pleasure to catch their first BBC Prom (they return in September) at the Royal Albert Hall on Friday 24 July 2026 for a programme redolent of Italy. They began with Verdi’s overture to La forza del destino and ended with Respighi, all three of his Roman tone poems – Roman Festivals, Fountains of Rome and Pines of Rome. In the middle was Walton’s Cello Concerto with soloist Jonathan Aasgaard (principal cellist of Sinfonia of London), a work that Walton wrote whilst living at La Mortella in Ischia.

This was a big band concert, the Walton apart. The stage was full for the Verdi and by the time we came to ‘The Pines of the Via Appia’ from Pines of Rome things were full to bursting with around 120 orchestral players and sixteen extra brass.

Respighi: Pines of Rome – John Wilson, Sinfonia of London – BBC Proms at Royal Albert Hall (Photo: BBC / Chris Christodoulou)

Verdi’s overture opened with vivid brass and tight, urgent string sound. What was notable was the clarity of detail that Wilson brought to the music along with a sense of control with singing lines allied to a disturbing undertow, leading to urgent, incisive drama. An insouciant clarinet melody was overwhelmed by urgent brass and strings, the music driven to climax, then crisp excitement to the end. I know that this overture is very much complete in itself, but Wilson’s account made you wonder what he’d be like conducting the whole opera.

Walton’s Cello Concerto was the last of his three concertos, written for the great cellist Gregor Piatigorsky in 1956. For a long time, like much of Walton’s late work, the concerto was felt not to compare to the earlier violin and viola concertos, but it has begun to come into its own. 

We opened with a delicate, almost magical orchestral sound with Aasgaard’s cello singing over the top of it. Aasgaard played with a sense of intimacy, his tone elegant rather than big-boned romantic. It worked because Wilson kept the orchestra firmly under control. This was an intimate, thoughtful account of the music, but still with lush harmonies along with Walton’s familiar interesting spiky edge. When the opening material returned at the end of the movement it was so quiet as to be really daring. The second movement began crisp and vital, the music fast and vivid with the cello quietly furious. As with the first movement, Wilson and Aasgaard kept everything contained and intimate, yet Aasgaard’s playing was always vibrant and highly concentrated, and at the end of the movement the playing, fast and brilliant, grew progressively quieter till it evaporated. The finale is technically a theme and variations, but Walton’s structure is intriguing with two solo improvisations rather than a cadenza proper. Things opened with the soloist lyrically projecting the rather meandering theme over a barely-there orchestra. Then, when the soloist turned to quiet intense triplets, the orchestra produced some real magic, with a lovely sense of detail. The first solo improvisation was uncompromising, then the orchestral contribution was fast and tight, its sharp-edged brilliance very much harking back to early Walton. The second improvisation was thoughtful and intense, followed by a passage were the soloist threaded his way through lovely orchestral textures. The return of the material from the very opening of the work was more fluid, and if possible quieter and more intimate.

Walton: Cello Concerto – Jonathan Aasgaard, John Wilson, Sinfonia of London – BBC Proms at Royal Albert Hall (Photo: BBC / Chris Christodoulou)

Walton’s Cello Concerto can sometimes seem a backward-looking piece, harking back to the late-Romantic tradition. Aasgaard’s playing lacked that big-boned, big-toned romanticism and replaced it with a sense of intimate elegance and concentration, with a fine-grained tone and sense of line. This worked because Wilson was clearly in sympathy and brought control, discipline and real magic to the orchestral contributions.

After the interval we had Respighi’s three symphonic poems celebrating the landmarks of Rome, written between 1915 and 1928. The works can sometimes be dismissed as descriptive fluff, staying in the repertoire because they give orchestras a chance to show off. But John Wilson clearly rates them, and drew highly sympathetic performances from his players, showcasing real enjoyment and vivid playing.

We began with the least known, Roman Festivals (1928). ‘Circuses’ opened with a very filmic sound complete with tam-tams and extra trumpets along with a big, big orchestra. This was a sound-world that would be taken over by composers for the 1940s sword-and-sandals epics in films. Here, the result was complex multilayered excitement, full of colour and detail. ‘Jubilee’ was quiet and intense, with a sense of build and anticipation until the glorious noisy climax with bells when the pilgrims finally glimpse the holy city. ‘The October Festival’ was all upbeat excitement with plenty of tunes including a corny string tune played with an elegant sense of line. The movement felt strangely bitty, but Wilson and his players made it work. Finally, ‘Epiphany’ opened with raucous wind and lots else besides, creating a glorious noise. The fast chaos rather reminded you of the Shrovetide Fair from Stravinsky’s Petrushka, and Wilson was adept at bringing clarity of detail without losing the overall pizzazz. And when it came to the big string tune, they players responded with real relish.

Fountains of Rome (1915-1916) was the work that made Respighi’s international reputation: Toscanini premiered it in Rome then introduced the work to the USA with the New York Philharmonic. Of the Roman landmarks trilogy, it is the one that uses the most compact forces (relatively speaking), and has perhaps the narrowest expressive range, relying less on bravura and brash effects. ‘The Fountains of Valle Giulia’ was a gentle, elegant pastoral, full of quiet, almost neoclassical detail. ‘The Triton Fountain’ was all brass and vivid strings creating something urgent, joyful and very descriptive. Wilson’s large orchestra was admirably quick on its feet, light and transparent textures. After the climax the music quietened quickly, before being overwhelmed by the next movement. ‘The Trevi Fountain’ was a vivid evocation of water, waves and more, full of busy detail which subsided into ‘The Fountain of the Villa Medici’, where we had some real magic with fine wind solos, music that was all elegance, clarity and sophistication.

Finally, we came to Pines of Rome (1923-1924). ‘The Pines of the Villa Borghese’ was all vivid, impetuous excitement, crisp detail leading to another passage evoking Stravinsky’s Shrovetide Fair leading to a build up of excitement until ‘Pines near a catacomb’ loomed. Here the music was dark, mysterious and intense with a mournful off-stage trumpet. Wilson kept remarkable orchestral discipline, music was genuinely quiet, with lovely textures until the psalm-singing built to a climax. Then died. A ripple on the piano (two players) signalled ‘The Pines of the Janiculum Hill’, followed by a lovely clarinet solo. The transparent textures meant that for all the music’s harmonic intensity it was rich but not thick, with a sophisticated sense of control. Then at the end, the recording of the nightingale which, at the premiere in 1924, must have seemed a daring modernity. Finally, a low throb in the orchestra indicated the distant marching of Roman troops for ‘The Pines of the Via Appia’. The sense of excitement and build up was powerful and palpable, made manifest by the sixteen extra brass players sitting waiting around the auditorium. There was a lovely moment with a profoundly melancholy cor anglais solo, but then the brass build up created a climax that was simply a glorious noise!

Respighi: Roman trilogy – John Wilson, Sinfonia of London – BBC Proms at Royal Albert Hall (Photo: BBC / Chris Christodoulou)

Respighi wrote the extra brass parts for an ensemble of six saxhorns, though the performance replaced these with modern instruments (trumpets, flugel horns, baritone horns, euphoniums and trombones). Having heard saxhorns used in Berlioz’s Les Troyens (when John Eliot Gardiner conducted a staging of the work in Paris in 2013), I would be intrigued to hear what this would sound like in Respighi’s work. And on another authentic detail, does anyone nowadays play the recording of the nightingale by using the correct sort of wind up gramophone and 78rpm record?

After the overwhelming audience response to ‘The Pines of the Via Appia’ there was even an encore, the ‘galop’ from Rossini’s overture to William Tell!