Adelaide Festival. Adelaide Town Hall. 28 Feb 2026
As part of the 2026 Adelaide Festival, French choir and orchestra Pygmalion made an arresting Australian debut with Bach: Good Night World, directed by founder Raphaël Pichon. For listeners attuned to the possibilities of early music, and for novices, this was a performance of depth and refinement.
The concert began almost casually: players drifted onstage to adjust chairs and stands, testing the acoustic with fragments of tuning before withdrawing off stage. Yet the formal entrance marked a transformation. In the generous acoustic of the Adelaide Town Hall, ten voices and ten instrumentalists produced a sonority of remarkable amplitude and focus. The blend was seamless; the contrapuntal lines etched with crystalline clarity. What might appear to be modest forces sounded vast—an object lesson in disciplined ensemble singing and historically informed instrumental performance underscored with precise articulation and phrasing.
The name Pygmalion alludes to the mythic sculptor whose creation was animated into life and is an apt metaphor for the ensemble’s artistic philosophy. Their work is not merely reconstruction but rebirth: overlooked or underperformed Baroque repertoire—much of it French—is approached with scholarly commitment as well as theatrical imagination. Text and music are treated as inextricably joined, their impact heightened through exquisite phrasing and beautifully controlled dynamic nuance.
The program, comprising thirteen works arranged in four groupings, was structured around music written in the aftermath of the Thirty Years' War (1618-1648). The devastation of that conflict—demographic, political and spiritual, with an estimated 4.5 to 8 million soldier and civilian casualties, and some areas in Germany suffering up to a fifty percent loss of population—formed the backdrop to works by Adam Drese, Daniel Speer, Dieterich Buxtehude, members of the Bach family, Philipp Heinrich Erlebach, Melchior Franck, Heinrich Schütz and Hans Leo Hassler. Rather than presenting them as disconnected compositions, Pichon sequenced them as a contemplation on anguish, endurance and healing.
The opening soprano solo, Drese’s Nun ist alles überwunden, immediately established the ensemble’s aesthetic. Sung with a pure, unforced straight tone and superb pitch, the vocal line carried effortlessly through the hall.
If that wasn’t compelling enough, Speer’s Ach wie elend was the stuff of goosebumps. Pichon deployed the choir throughout the hall—in doorways, along the sides, even in the aisles of the balcony—so that the canon unfolded spatially as well as musically. The effect was immersive without being theatricalised for its own sake: polyphony circulated through every crevice of the Adelaide Town Hall, surrounding and enveloping the listener. It was eery but deeply satisfying sensurround! Some audience instinctively turned toward to locate the unseen singers, and this testified to the potency of the moment. The ‘architectural’ strategy was again used later in the program to great effect. Applause, though formally reserved for the end of each bracket, often broke out spontaneously—a natural response to such immediacy—and was received with gracious composure by the ensemble. They never lost momentum.
The concert proceeded with cumulative force, each work deepening the emotional path laid out before us. Even a snapped cello string—repaired efficiently and without fuss off-stage—served as a reminder of the palpable immediacy of live performance.
Pichon conducts with economy. His gestures are precise, unexaggerated, yet charged with intent and purpose. When he expands his physical language, it is purposeful and galvanising; the ensemble responds as one, and with immediacy. Pichon also demonstrates a keen understanding of ‘musical dramaturgy’, not only in sound but in movement: the choreographed positioning and processing of singers as they took their places was executed with almost ritual grace.
To describe Pygmalion as “world class” is accurate rather than inflated. This was music-making of rare expressivity. It was intellectually rigorous, technically superb, and profoundly moving. The music sounded fresh and possessed a satisfying sense of ‘newness’.
The performance was much more than a concert: it was a palpable demonstration of the enduring capacity of early music to speak eloquently and clearly to a modern audience as if it were for the first time.
Pygmalion produces music that makes the world turn and the human heartbeat: they produce the music of the spheres.
Just stunning.
Kym Clayton
When: 28 Feb
Where: Adelaide Town Hall
Bookings: Closed
★★★
Adelaide Fringe. Pilgrim Church. 25 Feb 2026
Einaudi’s Piano by Candlelight features British pianist Matthew Shiel performing a selection of meditative piano works by Ludovico Einaudi, Erik Satie, and Philip Glass, but it’s more than that.
Shiel is an alumnus of the prestigious Royal Conservatoire of Scotland, and he clearly knows his way around a piano. He has performed hundreds of concerts at fringe festivals and other events around the world and has received awards and glowing reviews. His concerts are diverse and arouse curiosity, especially in those who are looking for non-traditional programs and settings.
Shiel is dressed in an Indian Kurta shirt, and at the start of the concert he processes slowly from the entrance of Pilgrim Church down through the audience to the alter area where the piano is situated. He sits at the piano and immediately starts playing. There is no attempt to acknowledge the audience and receive applause.
Behind him is a large projection screen on which play digital animations of Japanese Zen stories. The projections play continuously and in between Shiel’s musical selections there are voice-overs in his own voice to make sense of what we are seeing on the screen. This is ostensibly the ‘spine’ of the show, the ‘glue’ that holds it all together: a story about finding enlightenment with empathetic music underpinning its unfolding and linking the narrative. All the while, the only light in the venue is (electric) candlelight and the dying sunlight of the afternoon creeping in through the church’s stained windows.
There is gravity in the air. There is a stark juxtaposition of cultures.
It all bodes for a compelling experience, but it is not. The voice-overs lack clarity and are very difficult to understand. They really need some quality sound engineering to improve them so that they can indeed behave as the ‘glue’ that is so very much needed for this show: the story portrayed in the projections is not self-evident, and even though Zen is about understanding through intuition rather than conscious effort, intuition in the context of this concert will only take you so far.
Shiel’s playing is expressive—he shapes his hands and forearms beautifully—and his physicality is fluid and evocative. At times one feels it borders on becoming immoderate, and he is at times heavy on the pedal and could more clearly voice the melody.
Shiel clearly has a penchant for the emotion and style of Glass and Einaudi, and the modestly sized audience appreciated that.
Kym Clayton
When: 25 Feb to 6 Mar
Where: Pilgrim Church
Bookings: adelaidefringe.com.au
★★★1/2 stars
Adelaide Fringe. Pilgrim Church. 25 Feb 2026
Debussy’s Romantic Piano by Candlelight - ‘Clair de Lune’ features British pianist Matthew Shiel performing a selection of piano music which can all be associated with “scandalous love affairs” enjoyed by the composers! The musical selections are mostly popular, but some are less well known, and there was a new composition, a gentle ‘romance’ titled Notturno VI composed by Dr Alfredo Caponnetto.
Shiel is an alumnus of the prestigious Royal Conservatoire of Scotland, and he is a skilled pianist. He has performed hundreds of concerts at fringe festivals and other events around the world and has received awards and glowing reviews. His concerts are diverse and arouse curiosity, especially in those who are looking for non-traditional programs and settings. Tonight’s concert is as much a look into the personal lives of the featured composers as it is a survey of piano literature (predominantly) from the Romantic era. In between musical items Shiel gave anecdotes and interesting insights into the lives of the composers, but the clarity of his speaking voice is sometimes poor.
Shiel begins his program with Liszt’s Liebestraum No. 3 (Love Dream). It is the perfect choice to start a concert dedicated to affairs of the heart and Shiel is overt in his legato phrasing with aesthetically pleasing and fluid arm movement and hand shaping. Pedalling and rubato is appropriate, and sensitive. One senses that Shiel is at home with the romantic piano literature.
He follows the Liszt with Tchaikovsky’s Barcarolle (June, from The Seasons, op. 37a, no. 6), and again, accentuates the legato phrasing. His work in the right hand clearly brings out the melody. This strong start is followed by works from Bach, Brahms, more Liszt, Caponnetto and finally Debussy (with Clair de Lune, of course!)
Deserving of comment is Shiel’s performance of Liszt’s transcription of Isolde’s Liebstod (literally Love-Death) from the opera Tristan und Isolde by Wagner. It is a fiendishly challenging and muscular piece to play. Liszt’s transcription attempts to make the piano emulate a full orchestra, and therefore requires the pianist to navigate dense chords, lengthy developments, layered textures, varied and rapidly changing dynamics, and demanding yet delicate tremolos in the left hand. The main melody is simple, but just gorgeous, and it is essential it comes through all the ‘feuer und schwefel’ that surrounds it. Shiel worked hard to expose the melodic line and was mainly successful, and he did well to make the piece come to life. The tempo and meter occasionally wandered, but Shiel displayed sensitivity, understanding and stamina. An impressive effort.
The concert was advertised as including “…digital animations by acclaimed Shanghai artist and Disney illustrator Emma Yitong Shen. An immersive musical experience designed to wind you down, find romantic inspiration and open your heart to live and to love.” There were no such animations.
The program finished almost anticlimactically with Caponnetto’s Notturno VI, and with the last note gently fading away into the recesses of the graceful Pilgrim Church, Shiel stood, bowed, and walked away into the gentle gloom.
Kym Clayton
When: 25 Feb to 6 Mar
Where: Pilgrim Church
Bookings: adelaidefringe.com.au
★★★★★
Adelaide Fringe. Spiegel Zelt. 24 Feb 2026
“It starts like this” says Moko Kodo (aka Monica) of many songs in this delightful gig a happy audience experienced.
This cheeky lady wrote a bunch of songs to see if they landed with herself and an audience, despite not knowing much about being in the music game (ok, a Melbs mate loaned a song) let alone playing a bass guitar.
Stuff to write, stuff to say and gusto to do it.
Bass guitar as foundational structure to bunch of songs of break up, family issues, weirdness.
That’s a really strange take. Name a song you know where the bass is up and front of everything (alright a few). This gig? It works. Big time.
Especially if the writing is good and you have brilliant band mates on violin like Jacob Usplooji, and total control from Dave Watkins on drums. It is the most gentle, but solid support you could want for an act that relies totally on each other to make a ripping night.
Numbers like Nick’s Song to My Girl are filled with resigned sadness up to the kick arse satiric fun of She Wants to Die (crazy mother in hospital) and two hands-down, laugh-out-funny numbers I Know You Don’t Love Me (“ do you want your drivers license back?”) and title song of the night, I’m Not Going to Marry You.
There is a delightful line of emotional introspection and hilarious sarcasm in these songs. Moko can go deep and high vocally and lyrically. Laugh? Hell yes! Sit back and think yes, I lived that, given there’s a lot of experiences here many will have shared in their time.
If you missed this gig, be assured there will be another one!!
David O’Brien
When: Season Closed
Where: Spiegel Zelt, Garden of Unearthly Delights
Bookings: adelaidefringe.com.au
Gillian Welch and David Rawlings. Thebarton Theatre. 22 Feb 2026
Once again, the gods arrived by car. Last time they played in Adelaide, in 2016, Gillian Welch and David Rawlings drove across the Nullabor from Perth. This time, it was a non-stop journey from Canberra via a visit to a Murray Cod fishing competition in Barham -Koondrook in New South Wales. “They made us very welcome” drawls Rawlings.
They are also very welcome on a Sunday night at Thebarton Theatre. Rarely have I been among a more expectant crowd. Ten years has been a long wait, and the duo had only played Adelaide once before in their now nearly thirty year career.
They step on stage like there hasn’t been a yesterday and—in their modest, attentive, focused way—like there may not be a tomorrow. They stand shoulder to shoulder at twin microphones; each rigged for vocals and their signature guitars.
Welch, in her ankle-length charcoal cotton dress, has her slim arms draped around her 1956 Gibson J-50 flat-top, while Rawlings in his corn-coloured Stetson, brown suede jacket and battered denims has his 1935 Epiphone Olympic arch-top ready to roll.
There’s some ‘howdy y’all Adelaide’ plus a short motoring report with a Q &A, and then Welch opens with Wayside/Back in Time from the Soul Journey album. “Standing on the corner with a nickel or a dime/ there used to be a railcar to take you down the line/ too much beer and whisky to ever be employed …Wasted on the wayside…Back baby, back in time/ I wanna go back when you were you mine.”
Welch, now with silver threads in her hair, her voice perhaps more mellow than keening, instantly engages with her particular version of alt. country, Americana, or whatever best describes that music which refers to previous times and places, but has the vividness of the present.
Immersed in (and brilliantly revitalising) the ballad tradition, Welch and Rawlings can inhabit archetypal personas—railroad drifters or broken lovers, grieving mothers, or struggling sharecroppers—as convincingly as Dylan or Neil Young, June Carter Cash, or Emmylou Harris.
Showcasing their Grammy-winning album Woodland, named for their Nashville recording studio (restored after near obliteration by tornadoes in 2020) they move to the opening track and one of their best compositions – Empty Trainload of Sky. “Just a boxcar of blue/ showing daylight clear through/ just an empty trainload of sky.”
Their vocal harmonies thread together with a kind of effortless intimacy, Welch’s guitar sets the rhythm and tempo and then Rawlings adds his hypnotic, filigree fingerpicking - nimble, supple and with real swing. Unlike the album, there is no bass and drum (or strings) yet somehow in performance the two guitars are more than an excellent sufficiency.
On the pensive What We Had Rawlings leads with his sweet tenor, then joined by Welch, it becomes Country pop – even shades of The Carpenters.
From his Poor David’s Almanac album, Rawlings takes an excursion into Midnight Train. Virtuoso train songs are a staple of folk blues – from Robert Johnson to Bukka White and Tom Rush.
Rawlings hitches his guitar close, holding it almost vertically and begins to thread into his musical locomotion. No bottleneck slide, but instead an extended raga of accelerating intricacy and rail rattling speed. More Woodland songs follow – all joint compositions by the duo. The Bells and the Birds is a delight with Rawlings’ chiming guitar and Gillian Welch’s winsome vocal.
When she reaches for her clawhammer banjo Welch observes (at song number seven) that it is the longest they have waited to bring on the banjo for the whole tour. Instantly, I hope it will be for My First Lover from the Revelator album. Instead it’s for Howdy Howdy. A lovely opening trickle of plunking notes, echoed on guitar – “Tell me what did the blackbird say to the crow…” First it is Rawlings, then Welch takes a turn – their voices almost indistinguishable.
After Tennessee from the classic The Harrow & The Harvest CD, Rawlings digs out Sweet Tooth from the Rawlings Machine Friend of the Family sessions. It is a hopped-up ragtime cocaine candy song, bristling with guitar brilliance and marks an up-beat ending to the first set.
This is a rich event and full of surprises and highlights. After Annabelle from the early Revival and, interspersed with harmonica, the intriguing Hashtag from Woodland, Gillian Welch reaches for the banjo again. Not My First Lover but Hard Times. Slow march tune, melancholy but defiant vocal, threadbare ambling music – “Hard times ain’t gonna rule my mind… no more!”
Repeated like a mantra, and then David Rawlings brings in guitar and vocal reinforcement. It is spellbinding and thrilling to be in the same room in which this is happening. Just like hearing this exceptional duo at Her Majesty’s back in 2016.
There are other excellent notables – Rawlings singing Ruby, a memorable reading of Everything is Free from Time (the Revelator) beautifully phrased by Welch while Rawlings decorates the vocal with sweet serenades. All coaxed from the one guitar, there are no busy guitar techs swapping and tuning. At one point in the first set, Rawlings tunes a string while he is playing something inexplicably labyrinthine. With his mysterious tunings and sublime plucking he keeps surpassing himself as the concert unfolds – and the performance is filled with feeling, never just technique.
The set finishes with an expansive version of the sweet and sour The Way that it Goes. With its folky rhythm and crooning world weariness it is like a punkish swipe at the unmentionable world outside.
The encores are generous. Make Me a Pallet on the Floor, a tribute to Doc Watson, with whom they toured early in their careers, and a rousing and rocking Look at Miss Ohio.
But wait there is more. Guy Clark’s Desperadoes Waiting for a Train is another highlight, with its sepulchral repetitions and descending chord lines it more than honours a classic song. As is I’ll Fly Away—Gillian Welch’s duet with Alison Krauss on the soundtrack for O Brother Where Art Thou?—sung like a benediction to end the proceedings.
The lights go up and everyone is packing up—replete and grateful for 22 extraordinary songs—when Gillian Welch comes back onstage to get us seated again. It’s as if they hadn’t driven all this way to be stopping quite yet.
The closer is heralded by those strummed chords, almost dirge-like but filled with a quiet ecstasy – Revelator from the album of the same name. Recorded 25 years ago and never sounding better. Guitars in perfect accord, Rawlings brilliant one last time, Welch’s vocals flawless - the rhythm of their singing and playing like a metronome of the heart.
Gillian Welch didn’t get to play My First Lover on the banjo, but you can’t have everything. On second thoughts, in this exceptional concert, I think we just did.
Murray Bramwell
When: 22 Feb
Where: Thebarton theatre
Bookings: Closed