Music review: Prom 50 - Stephen Layton, Polyphony, City of London Sinfonia

A concert of rare intellect.

Musical memorials take many forms, as Sunday night's Prom elegantly demonstrated. A concert dedicated to Richard Hickox, whose sudden death in 2008 robbed English music of one of its most persuasive champions, the evening reflected the conductor's legacy and tastes, but also explored the broader question of how we bear witness culturally, whether to a life, a death, or - in the case of the First World War - to an era-defining tragedy.

Described by composer Frank Bridge as "one of the few lovely things that has ever happened to me", Benjamin Britten's Variations on a Theme of Frank Bridge sees the younger composer paying musical homage to his teacher and mentor, whose success he would so dramatically exceed but whose influence he would never outgrow. While showcasing the gamut of his technical skills (incorporating with sly wit many more quotations from Bridge than just the main theme), the Variations lack the smugness that colours many of Britten's earliest works.

Performed by the City of London Sinfonia, the ensemble founded by Hickox himself, the work's dramatic extremes were vividly painted. Directed by Stephen Layton, the violence of the lower string interjections of the "Funeral March" battled against the euphemising lyricism of the violins, while the "Wiener Walzer" had all the sinister sophistication of a ballroom described by Isherwood.

Macabre echoes of this latter movement persisted into the world premiere of Colin Matthews's No Man's Land that followed - a work originally commissioned by Hickox. A memorial to the composer's grandfather, killed at the Somme, this 20-minute oratorio stages a dialogue between the ghosts of two dead soldiers whose corpses are strung up on the barbed wire of no man's land.

Combining live orchestral textures (including an out-of-tune upright piano "of the kind that might have found its way to the Western Front") with recorded military marches and popular songs of the day, Matthews's music mirrors the fragmented rag-bag of images, the "memories and scraps of song and wisps of rhyme" that make up Christopher Reid's poem.

While the result is sonically distinctive, this very quality risks limiting the work's conceptual scope. Aurally we are snagged on the barbed wire of the literal, never allowed to wander as freely over the emotions and issues as Captain Gifford's text (sung with patrician lyricism by Ian Bostridge). With the shadows of Britten's War Requiem pre-empting Reid's ghostly figures, more than textural innovation is needed if No Man's Land is not to remain a postscript to this great work. It is perhaps the piece's other speaker, Roderick Williams's Cockney Sergeant Slack who emerges most poignantly, the jarring optimism of his bar ballads tarnished by cynical shrugs of orchestration - a lurking string pedal point, a dark chord in the low woodwind.

A thrilling reminder of why Layton has established himself as one of the finest choral conductors worldwide, the Mozart Requiem that followed transmuted the personal memorials of the first half into a generous and urgent testament to all humanity.

While Polyphony (particularly their men) are capable of some seriously wrathful thundering, it was with exploratory fragility that we opened - a musical plea (and an uncertain one at that) rather than the more traditional command, "Grant them eternal rest, O Lord." Framed by this vulnerability the operatic drama of the "Dies Irae" took fresh emphasis, illuminated by lightning flashes of consonants that the choir flung out into the audience. Only the solo quartet occasionally faltered, unbalanced by Bostridge whose voice, while expressive, seemed to belong to a different ensemble, lacking the fuller-textured vibrato of his colleagues and sitting particularly awkwardly in duets with soprano Emma Bell.

Homage; epitaph; memorial: this was a concert of rare intellect, a programme whose musical reach exceeded its grasp to substantial and poignant effect. While English music-making is much the poorer for the loss of Hickox, his legacy will long persist in the hands of such colleagues, collaborators and institutions.

Alexandra Coghlan is the New Statesman's classical music critic.

OLIVER BURSTON
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How science and statistics are taking over sport

An ongoing challenge for analysts is to disentangle genuine skill from chance events. Some measurements are more useful than others.

In the mid-1990s, statistics undergraduates at Lancaster University were asked to analyse goal-scoring in a hypothetical football match. When Mark Dixon, a researcher in the department, heard about the task, he grew curious. The analysis employed was a bit simplistic, but with a few tweaks it could become a powerful tool. Along with his fellow statistician Stuart Coles, he expanded the methods, and in doing so transformed how researchers – and gamblers – think about football.

The UK has always lagged behind the US when it comes to the mathematical analysis of sport. This is partly because of a lack of publicly available match data, and partly because of the structure of popular sports. A game such as baseball, with its one-on-one contests between pitcher and batter, can be separated into distinct events. Football is far messier, with a jumble of clashes affecting the outcome. It is also relatively low-scoring, in contrast to baseball or basketball – further reducing the number of notable events. Before Dixon and Coles came along, analysts such as Charles Reep had even concluded that “chance dominates the game”, making predictions all but impossible.

Successful prediction is about locating the right degree of abstraction. Strip away too much detail and the analysis becomes unrealistic. Include too many processes and it becomes hard to pin them down without vast amounts of data. The trick is to distil reality into key components: “As simple as possible, but no simpler,” as Einstein put it.

Dixon and Coles did this by focusing on three factors – attacking and defensive ability for each team, plus the fabled “home advantage”. With ever more datasets now available, betting syndicates and sports analytics firms are developing these ideas further, even including individual players in the analysis. This requires access to a great deal of computing power. Betting teams are hiring increasing numbers of science graduates, with statisticians putting together predictive models and computer scientists developing high-speed software.

But it’s not just betters who are turning to statistics. Many of the techniques are also making their way into sports management. Baseball led the way, with quantitative Moneyball tactics taking the Oakland Athletics to the play-offs in 2002 and 2003, but other sports are adopting scientific methods, too. Premier League football teams have gradually built up analytics departments in recent years, and all now employ statisticians. After winning the 2016 Masters, the golfer Danny Willett thanked the new analytics firm 15th Club, an offshoot of the football consultancy 21st Club.

Bringing statistics into sport has many advantages. First, we can test out common folklore. How big, say, is the “home advantage”? According to Ray Stefani, a sports researcher, it depends: rugby union teams, on average, are 25 per cent more likely to win than to lose at home. In NHL ice hockey, this advantage is only 10 per cent. Then there is the notion of “momentum”, often cited by pundits. Can a few good performances give a weaker team the boost it needs to keep winning? From baseball to football, numerous studies suggest it’s unlikely.

Statistical models can also help measure player quality. Teams typically examine past results before buying players, though it is future performances that count. What if a prospective signing had just enjoyed a few lucky games, or been propped up by talented team-mates? An ongoing challenge for analysts is to disentangle genuine skill from chance events. Some measurements are more useful than others. In many sports, scoring goals is subject to a greater degree of randomness than creating shots. When the ice hockey analyst Brian King used this information to identify the players in his local NHL squad who had profited most from sheer luck, he found that these were also the players being awarded new contracts.

Sometimes it’s not clear how a specific skill should be measured. Successful defenders – whether in British or American football – don’t always make a lot of tackles. Instead, they divert attacks by being in the right position. It is difficult to quantify this. When evaluating individual performances, it can be useful to estimate how well a team would have done without a particular player, which can produce surprising results.

The season before Gareth Bale moved from Tottenham Hotspur to Real Madrid for a record £85m in 2013, the sports consultancy Onside Analysis looked at which players were more important to the team: whose absence would cause most disruption? Although Bale was the clear star, it was actually the midfielder Moussa Dembélé who had the greatest impact on results.

As more data is made available, our ability to measure players and their overall performance will improve. Statistical models cannot capture everything. Not only would complete understanding of sport be dull – it would be impossible. Analytics groups know this and often employ experts to keep their models grounded in reality.

There will never be a magic formula that covers all aspects of human behaviour and psychology. However, for the analysts helping teams punch above their weight and the scientific betting syndicates taking on the bookmakers, this is not the aim. Rather, analytics is one more way to get an edge. In sport, as in betting, the best teams don’t get it right every time. But they know how to win more often than their opponents. 

Adam Kucharski is author of The Perfect Bet: How Science and Maths are Taking the Luck Out of Gambling (Profile Books)

This article first appeared in the 28 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The new fascism