Category Archives: Concert Reviews

Be it orchestral, chamber or something totally different, I try to write a review of every concert I go to. Sometimes they’re written in a spare five minutes, at others they become musings on bigger musical ideas.

Ian Bostridge Sings Mozart and Schubert – Melbourne Symphony Orchestra

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Friday 7th December

Despite my reservations about a program consisting mostly of Mozart in what has to be described as a very large concert hall, the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra’s collaboration with British tenor Ian Bostridge and conductor Bernard Labadie was highly enjoyable. Labadie’s reputation is for conducting Baroque and Classical repertoire, and it is because of this that the program had such a strong focus on the works of Mozart.

The selection of five Schubert songs was undoubtedly the highlight of the evening. Bostridge appeared totally at ease with the music, exploring the intricacies of colour and melody in Schubert’s writing. The orchestral accompaniment – arranged by Webern – augmented the possibilities of vocal shading while still maintaining the intimacy of piano writing. Though at moments the proximity of a chamber music venue would have better allowed for Bostridge’s subtleties of colour, the Hamer Hall acoustics delivered superbly, and a pleasing balance of instruments and voice seemed effortless on the part of the performers. The brooding Ihr Bild (Her Image) was particularly striking, and Bostridge’s upper register in these songs was outstanding.

The excerpts from Mozart’s opera Idomeneo which preceded the interval, while equally stunning technically,  felt somewhat out of place in the overall arc of the concert. Bostridge executed the arias with passion, ringing Italian, and particularly impressive cadenzas. However, the flow of this segment was unconvincing, with the music seeming to loose rather than gain momentum heading into the interval.

Framing the vocal works, Mozart’s symphonies no. 31 (Paris) and the famous no. 40 were played with buoyancy and delicacy. The opening movements of both works erred on the side of dainty when they could maybe have used a little more umph. It was clear that Bernard Labadie’s musical focus was with the minute gestures rather than the greater arc of the music, which gave the second movement of the Paris symphony in particular a dazzling clarity of sound and musical contour. Lower voices carried beautifully, with even the gentlest of cello pizzicatos clearly audible. It was maybe a little surprising, then, that the woodwind were not more present in the mixture, and that inner-voice melodies in the concluding symphony were occasionally unclear. Both works gained momentum heading into the final movements, with Labadie demanding crisp articulation and bubbling energy.

A concert on the light side thematically perhaps, but nevertheless performed with flair and sparkle.

Stop, repair, prepare…

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Allora & Calzadilla Kaldor Public Art Project

16th November – 6th December

Cowen Gallery, State Library of Victoria

http://www.slv.vic.gov.au/event/kaldor-public-art-project-26-allora-and-calzadilla

A pianist strikes the opening chords of Beethoven’s Ode to Joy, well-known to many but still stunning. More remarkable though, is that they aren’t seated at the  instrument. The piano for this public art installation has been transfigured, or should I say disfigured, to hold the player inside it.

The clever thing about this project is that there are many reasons that it is intriguing and catches the imagination of those passing through the state library’s gallery space. Visually, the whole concept is bizarre. The piano has a gaping hole right where many of the strings should be – complemented by one cut in the lid for visual effect. The player leans out over the keys, playing them backwards and upside-down to create a dazzling contortion of technique. Not only that, but the usually stationary instrument is dragged round the gallery while playing, with the pianist using their body weight to drive the instrument.

All this is clever, and certainly draws an audience, but I think that if this was simply a visual spectacle with little-known music it would be less effective. The power of the project comes from the use of Ode to Joy – indeed the pianist is playing the whole 4th movement of Beethoven’s 9th symphony – a piece that is almost universally known and loved. The listener is drawn into the musical and physical struggle of the performer as they do battle with their constricting position. Even those who had no musical training, it seemed, had some idea of what came next, of the magnitude of the music being performed. And, I think, this is one of the reasons they stayed.

Just as the instrument is incomplete, so is the music. Drawing on the idea of a ‘prepared’ piano with nuts and bolts inserted, the piece makes full use of the instrument’s percussive nature. The central two octaves – with strings removed – are nevertheless explored, adding thuds and taps where one would except Beethoven’s melody to continue. The performer also plucks strings – why not, they’re right there? – and even the sound of the instrument moving round becomes an eerie accompaniment to the music. The pianist seems utterly compelled to make this music, otherwise the physical constraints of the upside-down piano would render it impossible.

Audience reactions to this are incredible and diverse. Of course, many film it on iphones, wanting to share the bizarre nature of the performance. Some follow the piano as it moves round the room, others feel that they should stay still and appreciate the piano from a single angle only. Still some whistle or hum along, caught up in the drama of the music.

Stop, repair, prepare is only on until Thursday 6th December at the State Library of Victoria. If you can go, go! Bizarre, indescribable, this is also deeply touching and a reflection on the power that music has on us both as a listener and a performer.

A Sunday Afternoon Concert – South Melbourne Symphony Orchestra

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Sunday 25th November

There is no denying it, community orchestras are tricky. Tricky because they are at once one of the most important ways of nurturing classical music in the community, and one of the most varied groups of musical individuals one will ever meet. And while Lynette Bridglands is doing a lot of great things with the South Melbourne Symphony Orchestra, as shown by their final concert for 2012, choosing an appropriate program for such an ensemble is challenging.

Rossini’s Overture to The Italian Girl in Algiers got the concert off to a good start, with oboist Sophie Johnson playing the opening solos expressively and with a stunning tone. She just needed to do it louder! Woodwinds lines were well-played, with good intonation and sense of ensemble, but the strings – in particular the first violins – were somewhat lacking in both dynamics and conviction. This, I feel, is one of the first golden rules of community orchestra playing: the concertmaster really must be a charismatic and musical leader capable of injecting some umph into their fellow musicians. Concertmaster David Chan, while clearly very capable technically, didn’t give this, and as a result many of the string players erred on the side of playing a little quietly and with a little less enthusiasm so that they wouldn’t be caught making a dreaded mistake. As a result, upper strings melodies were rather lost, and the sections that were played somewhat under tempo really felt like it.

Elgar’s Sea Pictures was without a doubt the highlight of the concert. Mezzo-contralto (though with an impressive high register too) Helen Hill was splendid both in her interpretation of the music and her presence on stage. The orchestra handled Elgar’s writing well despite any technical difficulties, as they were able to take the lead from both conductor and soloist in terms of colour and musical intention. An encore of Land of Hope and Glory was fitting and fun, leading all buoyantly into the interval with a tune to hum.

The second half presented two very challenging works, though each for its own reasons. Here, I wonder whether it would have been prudent to reduce the program length a little (or maybe even adding a slightly easier second Pomp and Circumstance March to the first half) than attempt to tackle the weight of both Strauss’s Der Rosenkavalier Concert Suite and a Mozart Symphony.

It was clear here that most members of the orchestra are at a high technical standard on their instrument. However, I think that one of the most important considerations of community orchestra programming (and also for youth orchestras, but for slightly different reasons) is recognising the difference between what the ensemble can play in terms of notes, and what they are capable of playing well in concert. Der Rosenkavalier, in particular, was challenging in this respect, and the resulting impression was that most players were still getting to grips with their own parts and not listening terribly much to the ensemble as a whole. Lines were muddy, and at times a central melody was difficult to pick, although the piece picked up momentum as it moved into the waltz.

Mozart’s Symphony No. 35, the Haffner, is challenging for another reason – it needs incredible finesse. Here, the orchestra were clearly enjoying themselves, and the result was a light, buoyant reading, though a little under-tempo. It felt that this would have been just that bit more polished – especially in terms of the strings’ commitment to some of their more challenging lines – had the group spent just a little more time on each of the movements.

Conductor Lynette Bridgland is an enthusiastic and skilled musician, and has clearly put a lot of work into the South Melbourne Symphony Orchestra. However, if community orchestras are to continue to attract audiences and players, I feel that they need to balance their programs a little better. Pick a handful of pieces that are that bit easier, and play them with real conviction and umph, adding a single challenging work that really has a lot of time spent on it. Maybe this will upset a few of the more highly skilled players in the ensemble, but orchestras are a team, and the greatest skill of being an orchestral musician is that of being a team player.

Madame Butterfly – Opera Australia

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Tuesday 25th September

Seeing an opera at the Sydney Opera House has to be pretty up there on the music to-do list, and the second night of Opera Australia’s Madame Butterfly on Tuesday attested to this. It seemed that the location and Puccini’s music were a winning combination for seasoned opera-goers and tourists alike.

In this production, the set was most certainly the star. Wooden floorboards surrounded by a shallow pool of water, with Japanese-screen walls looked on the outset to be a rather simple set-up. However, these elements interacted to give a greater meaning to many of the opera’s bigger themes. The screens opened and closed, allowing the house to be sometimes open and free, sometimes prison-like and closed off. Light seemed constantly to come from outside, as if the world beyond was a much brighter place. At the end of the first act and in Butterfly’s dream in the second, the back wall was lifted away completely to reveal an open sky of stars, in these moments the butterfly was temporarily released from her cocoon.

Similarly, the simple prop of a long stretch of silk was used to great effect in both these scenes. Butterfly herself proffers it, content to be Pinkerton’s property as long as she can be bound to him forever. It is similarly ironic that it is with this same piece of silk that she ties her knees in her final moments.

Hiromi Omura was impressive as Madame Butterfly – a role that is almost constantly in the spotlight. She handled herself with effortless geisha-like grace, although at moments it seemed that she was forcing a smile when more considered emotions were indicated by the text and music. Her voice carried well in the space, although at times seemed rather light compared with Dominica Matthew’s in the role of Suzuki. These two women carried the show without a doubt, blending beautifully in their duet as they covered the house with flowers in the second act. There cannot have been many dry eyes once Butterfly realised the hopelessness of her situation.

James Egglestone (Pinkerton), Graeme Macfarlane (Goro) and Michael Lewis (Sharpless) all performed with energy and musical conviciton, Macfarlane in particular lent his character a highly appropriate awkwardness. However, several of the minor characters (Malcolm Ede as Prince Yamadori and Nicole Car as Kate Pinkerton) were both one-dimensional and rather quiet, even at close quarters.

A Spectacular Return – Act 1 – Melbourne Symphony Orchestra

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Friday 10th August

The Melbourne Symphony Orchestra’s return to their newly refurbished home at Hamer Hall was grand to say the least. With a packed house and a sense of celebration, the opening night concert showcased the hall and its new acoustics through a diversity of music and creative ideas.

Rather unusual though it is for an orchestral concert to begin with a solo work, let alone one by a living Australian composer, Ross Edwards Water Spirit Song for solo cello was indeed an inspired choice to highlight Hamer Hall’s stunning acoustics. David Berlin played with sensitivity and flair, though possibly a little erratically at times, and each detail of the cello’s meandering line was clearly audible.

Thomas Ades’s Polaris which followed tested the hall at the other end of the sound spectrum, comprising a full orchestra with brass positioned strategically around the balconies. The effect was stunning, as orchestra and hall alike coped effortlessly with the timberal variety of this ambitious work. Conductor Markus Stenz’s understanding of Ades and his music was clear, and he demanded energy of the orchestra throughout. While the visuals created by video artist Tal Rosner were beautiful in their own right, they were a little superfluous to the music on such an occasion, adding an additional level of clutter when none was needed.

Finally, Gustav Mahler’s mighty Symphony No. 3, together with mezzo-soprano Petra Lang, solo posthorn and two choirs, took its place as showpiece of the evening. This is a stunning work, but also one on a colossal scale, and may have pushed the concert out a little too far for some audience members. Nevertheless, Mahler does save his most poignant until the end. While the opening movement would indeed be hard to surpass in terms of majesty and length, the fourth and fifth movements with choir and solo voice were at once stunningly dramatic and perfectly blended. The sixth and final movement, which could easily have dragged, instead lifted to a new level, with Stenz and the orchestra thoughtfully caressing each and every note.