Invited| Review by Michael Dunwell
The formula for a great concert is familiar: a top-tier orchestra, a renowned soloist, and a programme of powerful works that speak across time. But what makes a performance truly memorable is when you feel included in the experience, when the musicians create a sense of connection that extends beyond the music itself. On Saturday night at The Glasshouse, Dinis Sousa and the Royal Northern Sinfonia managed exactly that.
We began our evening at the Pitcher & Piano on the Quayside. Sat right by the river, the food was excellent, and the atmosphere had just the right balance of lively and relaxed. It felt like the perfect spot to start the night, and honestly, the food there was so good that it has instantly become a go-to before any future visit to The Glasshouse.
The concert itself opened with something I rarely experience in classical performances: accessibility. The conductor, Dinis Sousa, took the time to step forward and introduce the programme, explaining the pieces in a way that was warm, engaging, and never patronising. It felt like we were being invited into the world of the music, rather than simply observing it. That little touch made a huge difference, especially for people who might have been experiencing orchestral music for the first time.
The concerto was an impassioned opener. Baeva’s playing was expressive and deeply lyrical, carrying the familiar sweep of Tchaikovsky’s writing but with a real freshness in her phrasing. What struck me almost as much as her performance was the response from the orchestra around her. The Royal Northern Sinfonia felt like a family on stage. Between movements and during key solos, we noticed the small moments of connection: a quiet “you nailed that” whispered across the strings, a subtle nod of encouragement from one section to another. Those little acknowledgements showed just how the group artistically respect one another, and it gave the whole performance an extra layer of warmth.
The second work of the evening, Kristine Tjogersen’s Bioluminescence, was the absolute highlight for me. The hall lights were turned off completely, plunging us all into darkness, and suddenly the orchestra became something otherworldly. Each musician played their instrument in unconventional ways, coaxing sounds you wouldn’t normally expect. It felt alive, like the hall itself had sunk into the deep sea. Clicks, whispers, breathy textures and eerie tones shimmered through the space. I have been to plenty of concerts, but never experienced something quite like this. It was adventurous, a little unsettling, and completely absorbing. For those few minutes, time seemed to stop.
The final work of the evening was Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 9, a piece that carries wit and bite but also plenty of shadows beneath the surface. The orchestra captured the shifting moods beautifully, moving from playfulness to darker, more unsettling passages with sharp precision. Again, what stood out was their unity as a group. Even in the more complex, layered sections of the symphony, you could see them feeding off one another’s energy, working as one organism rather than as individuals.
Walking out onto the Quayside afterwards, what stayed with me was not just the music, but the sense of community created in that hall. From Dinis Sousa’s accessible introductions, to Alena Baeva’s powerful playing, to the adventurous dive into darkness with Bioluminescence, it was a programme that combined the familiar with the unexpected. The Royal Northern Sinfonia showed they are not only an exceptional orchestra, but a group of musicians who clearly love creating together, and that joy spilled over into the audience.
In conclusion, this was an evening that reminded me why live performance matters so much. It had everything: stunning solos, daring experimentation, and above all, a sense of connection. If you ever have the chance to catch a programme like this at The Glasshouse, take it. You might go in expecting Tchaikovsky, but it could be a piece like Bioluminescence that becomes the memory you carry home.