Master Series 5. Adelaide Symphony Orchestra. Adelaide Town Hall. 17 Aug 2018
Maestro Nicholas Carter commented from the conductor’s podium that it is gratifying to again see such a large audience in the Town Hall. He should not have been surprised. After all, despite the bitter wintry winds racing down King William Street outside, the cosy interior of the beautiful Town Hall is playing host to a warming program of Fauré, Rachmaninov and, the jewel of the evening, an Australian première of Sir James MacMillan’s Saxophone Concerto featuring the uber-talented world-class saxophonist Amy Dixon, but more on that later.
The Adelaide Symphony Orchestra’s performance of Pelléas et Mélisande Suite by Gabriel Fauré is lush and greatly enhanced by Carter swapping the placement of the violas and cellos. The beautiful Sicilienne movement washes seamlessly over us with Geoffrey Collins on flute and Suzanne Handel on harp affording crystal clarity to the melody, which is matched by the woodwind in the melancholic molto adagio fourth and final movement.
Sir James MacMillan’s Saxophone Concerto is a fifteen-minute concentrated cornucopia of Scottish and Gaelic musical traditions, but despite the immense interest that is inherent in it, to one’s ear it only just holds together. Scored for string orchestra and solo saxophone, each movement is over – almost abruptly – before it really has a chance to develop, and there are few connections between them. That said, each movement is absorbing in its own right, and variously feature traditional Scottish dance rhythms and the drone effect of bagpipes. The second and most satisfying movement is an exploration of Gaelic psalm singing in which the cantor (solo saxophonist) ‘sings’ a line and the assembly (string orchestra) joins in at their own time. Aurally the effect is almost like a canon in which the repetitions rapidly blend and suffuse the space in broad and pastoral tones. The composition comprises many difficult passages, especially in the third and final movement, and Dixon demonstrates her world class talent and exceptional breathing control and articulation.
The audience are generous with their applause and Carter fittingly allows Dixon to take the second and third bows by herself. She offers an encore which is an astonishing excerpt of coloratura proportions from the concerto that, curiously, was more effective as a solo piece than it was with orchestral accompaniment.
The concert concludes with a fine reading of Rachmaninov’s Symphony No.3. Rachmaninov’s compositions are typified by their expansive melodies and rich orchestration, but this symphony is a little less generous in that regard, and, arguably, is his best. In it Rachmaninov seems to unshackle himself from what is usually expected of Russian symphonic music. There is less gravitas and deep introspection in favour of lightness and freshness with immediate and uncomplicated development of musical ideas.
Carter has shown us time and time again that he can see the ‘big picture’. In expansive works such as the Symphony No 3 he sets a dynamical and metrical blueprint for the entire composition rather than planning each movement separately. This leads to balance and a unity that is satisfying, and the mood changes that are inherent in Rachmaninov’s style come across more profoundly and convincingly - they coax, they don’t scream.
Bravo Carter, bravo Adelaide Symphony.
Kym Clayton
When: 17 Aug
Where: Adelaide Town Hall
Bookings: Closed
Australian Tour. Live in the Park at Bonython Park. 11 Aug 2018
In his Modern Times song, Spirit over the Water, Bob Dylan wrote:
“You think I'm over the hill // You think I'm past my prime // Let me see what you got
We can have a whoppin' good time.”
And so it came to pass on a wicked Adelaide winter’s night that 6,000 people hunkered down beneath the domes of the most magnificent performance marquee imaginable and joined that old man for a whoppin’ good time.
Well, “whoppin” may not have been the word for it.
As in every Dylan concert, it was an idiosyncratic affair. Haunting, in a strange way.
Everyone knew it would not be like any other Dylan concert because, for most audience members, it was not their first Dylan concert. And there had never been anything predicable or average in any of the previous concerts. Everyone was lured back full of curiosity as to who and what this touring incarnation of the modern god poet would deliver this time, this possibly and probably his last time, now he is going on 78.
Dylan was 24 when first he performed in Adelaide, already worshipped as a genius poet and a powerful symbol of the 60s protest movements. Barefooted, he attended a press conference, showing a contempt bordering on ennui. “Impertinent…boorish” said the media.
When he performed with his “greasy-haired band" at the packed-out Palais Royal, he gazed distractedly offstage as he dutifully pleased the avid folkies fans with his familiar hit songs. They loved every word. It was all about the words.
But in the second part of that performance, he threw traditional folk music to the wind, amped up the volume and introduced his latest style, “folk rock”.
I was there, reviewing for the Adelaide University newspaper, On Dit, under my undergraduate sobriquet, Justine.
“Clutching his electric guitar, he shouted his poetry over the thunderous rock band, bounding around the stage to the beat of the music,” I wrote.
“He was like a child with a new toy. He didn’t quite know what to do next. He harmonised with another guitarist, danced a little, tried another number on the piano, danced a little more.”
Older audience members walked out. “Bring on the go-go girls,” some jeered as they stomped up the aisle.
The true believers stayed entranced - just as they stay entranced today.
He has toned it down these days. Jazzy and percussive and rocking but not so raucous. Perhaps wise to the aural damage of the industry, his 8-piece band, most of them rather elegant in loose silvery suits and black fedoras, had the volume beautifully balanced.
The stage in that magnificent tent of tents had the effect of a towering backdrop of verticals, which towards the end delivered a magnificent effect of rustic wooden pales. Most significantly, it was all about lights and more lights. Lamps around the stage illuminated band members. Giant old-style theatre floodlights dangled down lighting as part of the backdrop. Spot lights shone from the back across the stage and out to the audience. Dylan, seated or standing behind a grand piano, was shaded, his huge Harpo Marx mop of fuzzy curls glowing amber in the back lights.
Occasionally, when he stood to hammer closing notes on numbers, one glimpsed a little more of his face. Familiar, wrinkled, still handsome. But he seemed nestled among his family of musicians on the stage, not one to stand out, let alone have his image projected onto video screens. For some in the audience, this was an issue. Dylan tours incessantly and has rules which travel with him. No big screens. No cameras. There is a strange need for privacy from this very public figure. It is all part of the mystique which has kept us all in his thrall these many long years.
He has not lost the magic.
His wonderful raspy voice remains strong and clear, that unmistakable timbre, that edge, that whining sound we know and love. The band pumped out the tempos and the voice carried the tunes, if not the words. Most of the famous Nobel Prize-winning poetry was indecipherable, just Dylanesque sounds. Sometimes a familiar phrase would emerge and the crowd would cheer. It was hard to find the old songs because Dylan reworks them and reimagines them and, like an eternal Chinese whisper, they grow further from the original until they are something else.
But oh, how he surprised us with such a sweet and loving rendition of today’s version of Don’t Think Twice Babe, It’s All Right. Tenderness itself.
Among the songs were Blowin in the Wind, Ballad of a Thin man, and It ain’t me Babe.
They came and came for almost two hours, a little bit of harmonica, a lot of piano, a lot of voice and stamina. Dylan spoke occasionally to other musicians but he neither touched a guitar nor addressed the audience.
It didn’t matter.
The people were just glad to be there, in the same place and breathing the same air as that extraordinary man of our times.
Samela Harris
When: 11 Aug
Where: Bonython Park
Bookings: Closed
Photo Supplied by Samela Harris - 1966, On Dit magazine
Australian Chamber Orchestra. Adelaide Town Hall. 7 Aug 2018
Bach’s Goldberg Variations (often simply referred to as ‘the Goldbergs’) comprise an ‘aria’ followed by thirty diverse variations and then a repeat of the original aria. The whole composition, which clocks in at around seventy-five minutes depending on the tempo taken by the soloist, is almost solely (monotonously) in the key of G, and the variations are based on the bass line of the aria rather than the delicately lovely melody line. It was originally written for a two-manual harpsichord but is better known and appreciated when played on piano.
Famed Canadian pianist Glenn Gould shot to fame with his iconic 1955 recording of the Goldbergs, which is relatively brisk and omits many of the repeats. Since then, the Goldbergs have been re-expressed in many different instrumental arrangements – some work, others don’t – but those that do keep the counterpoint clear and unfussed. Tonight’s arrangement by Canadian composer Bernard Labadie for string orchestra and continuo (comprising harpsichord and theorbo) does indeed work.
What’s a ‘theorbo’ I hear you ask? Well, it’s a bit weird, and this is the first time one has ever seen one. It’s from the lute family, and has two peg boards and fourteen strings. It’s a handful!
In the hands of Richard Tognetti and the Australian Chamber Orchestra (with Erin Helyard on harpsichord and Axel Wolf on theorbo), Labadie’s arrangement shares the dialogue around and makes sparing use of tutti. The occasional use of knocked-cello percussion and pizzicato adds to the interesting palette of sound textures and allows the relationship between the voices in the original to be clearly heard. Having said that, Tognetti on violin makes the most impact with his artful performance of the aria, but that is entirely predictable – after all, the aria is the best bit, and it does bookend the entire composition. Having the first and last word is an advantage!
The Goldbergs dominate the evening’s program, but they are prefaced by three other compositions that don’t sit easily together. The highlight of the evening is Tognetti’s own arrangement of a set of fourteen additional variations to the Goldbergs written by Bach but not discovered until 1974. Entitled Canons on a Goldberg Ground, the composition uses piano rather than harpsichord and the whole thing has a modern feel about it, confirming that the Goldbergs sound so much better on piano than harpsichord.
Stravinsky’s Three Pieces for String Quartet arranged for a small string ensemble have an almost supernatural and unsettling quality about them. The ACO plays them with an uncompromising tautness that keeps one leaning forward in one’s seat wishing for the music to resolve into something more soothing. This is followed by the first movement, Nightfalls, from Thomas Adès’ The Four Quarters. It too is unsettling with various sections of the ensemble striving to achieve prominence, but only with temporary success – like one star struggling to appear on the black canvas of a night skyscape but being replaced just as quickly by another. And with the fading of Nightfalls emerges the Goldbergs.
There is never a dull moment with the Australia Chamber Orchestra.
Kym Clayton
When: 7 Aug
Where: Adelaide Town Hall
Bookings: Closed
Presented by Adelaide Symphony Orchestra, Andrew Mckinnon and State Opera of South Australia, in association with Adelaide Festival Centre. Festival Theatre. 15 Jul 2018
Apart from the stratospheric artistry of Korean coloratura soprano Sumi Jo and the irresistible charisma of Argentinian-Australian baritone José Carbó, what one loved about this wonderful concert was that by its end the opera-curious gentleman sitting alongside me was so completely sold on the artform that he was almost falling over himself trying to buy a ticket to the next operatic concert Adelaide has to offer; State Opera’s forthcoming Wagner gala! How good is that?
But who could not be swayed to distraction by Sumi Jo’s beautiful voice and consummate acting skills? She has an eye-wateringly busy performance schedule across the world, and has been recorded many times, but this is her first time to Adelaide and to see her in action is to truly appreciate her.
Sumi Jo is diminutive in stature, but she wears big gorgeous gowns and fills them out with an even bigger voice and bigger still characterisations. One could easily extol her vocal virtues and talk about her almost imperceptible vibrato in the highest registers, the purity and bird-song qualities of her tone, her dynamic control and her even strength across her full range. One could also draw comparisons between her talent and that of divas who have gone before her such as Sutherland and Callas. Above all, the thing that struck me is her ability to inhabit a song, word paint it and sell it hook, line and sinker to the audience.
Her program includes arias from Gounod’s Romeo et Juliette, Verdi’s Rigoletto, and Strauss’ Die Fledermaus. A highlight that enthrals and captivates the near capacity audience in the Festival Theatre is her performance of the Doll Song from Offenbach’s The Tales of Hoffmann. During the Doll Song the fan she uses as a hand-held prop self-destructs! As it did so Sumi Jo’s face broke into an infectious broad smile and she fell about laughing. Maestro Guy Noble brings the forces of the mighty Adelaide Symphony Orchestra to a halt and everyone enjoys the hilarity of the situation! With composure regained, Noble resumes and conducts them to the end bringing the audience to its feet cheering and wolf-whistling! Not too many stars can turn near-disaster into certain triumph!
José Carbó joins Sumi Jo in duets from Donizetti’s Don Pasquale and Lehar’s ever-popular Vilja and Love Unspoken from The Merry Widow. Their chemistry is palpable. Carbó also gives a spirited performance of the iconic Largo al Factotum from Rossini’s The Barber of Seville and a well-received emphatic rendition of the iconic Granada by Lara.
A highlight of the evening is Noble’s repartee from the podium. The man is witty and charming and knows how to add just enough lightness to a gala to stop it from being merely a concert.
This is a wonderful concert – one that puts a smile on your face from the very beginning and keeps it there well after you leave the theatre.
Kym Clayton
When: 15 Jul
Where: Festival Theatre
Bookings: Closed
Australian String Quartet. Adelaide Town Hall. 5 Jul 2018
It is a sandwich with a Widman filling, but the main substance and real enjoyment is in the Beethoven bread.
The current national Season concert presented by the Australian String Quartet features Beethoven’s Op18 No 3 and Op 135 string quartets – his first (despite what the numbering might suggest) juxtaposed with his very last – and Jorg Widman’s String Quartet No 3.
Widman is a contemporary German composer, musician and conductor. As a composer he has a not unimpressive oeuvre and discography with him as instrumentalist or conductor. Since 2017 he has been the Edward Said Chair and professor of composition at the Barenboim–Said Academy in Berlin. His third string quartet, known as the Hunting Quartet, dates from 2003 and is something to be enjoyed as much by seeing it as hearing it. It’s a scream, literally! The music is punctuated by blood curdling whoops and screams from the musicians and the swishing of their bows, and importantly, silence. This is programmatic music and focuses on the excitement and ultimate terror of the hunt. Visually it is fascinating to see the various ways the musicians extract very strange and unsettling sounds from their instruments. If unseen, and only heard, and without knowledge of the programme, the composition is much less effective. To one’s ear, the composition is not entirely successful in appealing as pure music, but the audience receives it with great humour and appreciation.
The Beethoven however is a different kettle of fish.
Beethoven wrote sixteen string quartets and they can broadly be categorised into three periods. The Op18 No 3 comes from the earliest period and is the third quartet he ever wrote. His most popular quartets are from his middle period and include the Razumovsky Quartets. The quartets from his latest period are amongst the last compositions Beethoven ever wrote and they are amongst his greatest. They are intellectually demanding and distance themselves from the romanticism of the middle period. They are also substantially less popular from the others, but, in the hands of the right musicians they have an almost unchallenged transcendence. The Op 135, Beethoven’s last quartet and last complete composition, is a prime example of just that, but it is also different. At times it seems ethereal and playful. Its texture is often sparse and it has a simplicity and translucence about it (to the ear) that gives it great profundity. The ASQ manages the dynamics with great empathy and allow the mix of anguish, joy, mischievousness and friskiness to come through. The Op 18 No 3 is altogether quite different. It is much more reflective of the quartet legacy of Haydn and Mozart, and the ASQ deliver it with precision, taut vigour and humour.
Andy Packer, of Slingsby Theatre Company fame, was commissioned to ‘design’ the setting for the concert. He located the ASQ on a circular mat in front of a large off-white backdrop. A series of footlights are trained on the musicians that created larger-than-life jarring shadows of the players against the backdrop and the side walls of the Town Hall. The concert begins with a recitation from Beethoven’s Heiligenstadt Testament to underline that the Op135 was written at a time when Beethoven was totally deaf, and as it concludes the members of the ASQ one by one move to their chair and the house lights dim to leave the auditorium in darkness save the warm glow of the footlights on the musicians. This could have all been highly effective if it wasn’t for the tackiness of the backdrop, which looked like a series of bedsheets clumsily sewn together. It becomes a distraction. But the Beethoven put all that aside.
Bravo ASQ.
Kym Clayton
When: 5 Jul
Where: Adelaide Town Hall
Bookings: Closed