Adelaide Symphony Orchestra. Adelaide Town Hall. 21 May 2025
Haydn taught Beethoven, but Beethoven declared Haydn taught him nothing, and Brahms was hesitant to write symphonies because he could not escape comparisons with Beethoven and felt he heard “… such a giant [Beethoven] marching behind him all the time.” So, it makes sense, in a mischievous sort of way, to juxtapose Haydn, Beethoven and Brahms on the same program, and that is exactly what the Adelaide Symphony Orchestra has done in the first concert in its Brahms: The Symphonies series.
Chief Conductor Mark Wigglesworth led the Adelaide Symphony Orchestra in what was a finely balanced performance across three diverse works: Haydn’s Symphony No.1 in D; Beethoven’s Concerto for Piano No.3 in C minor, Op.37; and Brahms’ Symphony No.1 (also) in C minor, Op.68. A feature of Wigglesworth’s conducting was a clearly established dynamic plan for each work, so that the distinction of loud and soft segments within and across movements made for contrasts that made sense and enhanced enjoyment right to the very end. Wigglesworth is a conductor who doesn’t get in the way of the orchestra: he allows the innate musicality of every player and instrumental section to shine through within the broad parameters he sets. One gets the sense that every musician is not on automatic pilot when he is at the podium and that they are discovering freshness in the work every time.
Haydn’s first symphony is a relatively youthful composition and is scored for a small orchestra. It comes in at around 10-11 minutes, but it doesn’t feel as brief as that. The sweet melodies and their development within each of the three movements are not entirely predictable and as a result the passing of time feels a little slower.
The same can be said of the Beethoven piano concerto, in which there are surprises in each of the three movements. Sir Stephen Hough performed the concerto with both precision and passion. Elegantly dressed in a midnight blue Nehru collared suit and shiny black patent leather shoes, Hough looked imposing and in full control at the Steinway concert grand. There is an air of the aristocratic about him, and he is all class. His style is devoid of unnecessary gesticulation and mannerism – there is simply a poised and studied look about him as he produces the most astonishingly articulated sounds from the instrument. At the start he sits sideways looking intently at Wigglesworth’s every move until the piano enters some minutes later – their collaboration is set in motion. The cadenza at the end of the first movement is quite special, performed with absolute clarity and balance. The second movement continues the focus on the piano, and Hough immediately stamps his interpretation on the sumptuous largo. Throughout there are gentle moments of dazzlingly clear dialogue between the piano and the orchestra, especially with the woodwinds, and it all gets spiced up in the final rondo movement when the rhythms become more exacting and seemingly jazz infused. At the end, the audience’s applause is emphatic, replete with stamping of feet and whistling, and Hough and Wigglesworth embrace in appreciation of each other. Hough was presented with the customary sumptuous bouquet of Tynte flowers, and he graciously gifted them to a lucky lady sitting in the front row. Nice touch Sir Stephen!
After the interval, Wigglesworth led the ASO in a robust performance of Brahms’ first symphony. It is around forty-five minutes in duration, and it is a muscular piece. The orchestra started with two doubles basses and four celli for the Haydn, which then expanded to four and six for the Beethoven, and then to six and eight for the Brahms, with the addition of various other instruments. The Brahms requires heft, and the ASO were up for the challenge. It begins with urgency and exclamation, as if Brahms is announcing to the world that he is indeed a symphonist and he has something to say, despite Beethoven looking over his shoulder! Scored in four movements, the composition is overflowing with melodies, and none so more than in the final movement with the iconic and languid horn line that once heard is never forgotten. It’s the stuff of earworms! This soon gives way to responses from the woodwinds, which were exquisite throughout the concert, and then from the violins. Concertmaster Kate Suthers again wowed the audience with some sensitive and beautiful playing, and the double basses worked overtime and gave the whole piece the momentum and drive it demands.
This is the first of four concerts in the series, and it seems we are in for a thrilling musical roller coaster of a ride. Superb programming, superb artists.
Kym Clayton
When: 21 May
Where: Adelaide Town Hall
Bookings: Closed
Elder Hall. Selby & Friends. 18 May 2025
Kristian Winther, violin, and Clancy Newman, cello, join Kathryn Selby, piano, in a bravura performance of three starkly different piano trios that has the audience in a collective and sustained state of excitement from beginning to end. The program title This Mirror Has Three Faces takes its name from Lera Auerbach’s Piano Trio No.2, which opens the concert, and is followed by Robert Schumann’s Piano Trio No.3 in G minor, Op.110, and Bedrich Smetana’s Op.15 trio written in the same key.
At the beginning of the concert, as the musicians take their seats and get ready, Winther casts his eyes around the vast Elder Hall auditorium and seemingly takes in every single member of the audience with an almost mocking gaze as if to say ‘you have been warned’! In hindsight, this would have been good advice – the concert is a roller coaster!
Soviet-born Austrian-American composer Lera Auerbach’s piano trio is a five-section work composed in 2011 that comes across as being in three movements, and it is an all-out assault on everything we know about the ‘classic’ piano trio (such as the Schumann and Smetana trios that follow). Auerbach has described her own music as always containing something that is “wrong”. The trio begins with crashing chords on the piano, that are sustained “wrongness”, but it settles quickly into a finely balanced but sparse conversation between the three instruments. Winther produces the softest of sounds almost without beginnings or ends, and the cello follows suit. Just as we think that “wrongness” is behind us, the second section ushers in declarative passion with voices speaking over and through each other. It’s exciting, and Selby is ever watchful of the strings to ensure that she clearly and emphatically finishes the dialogue when needed. There is much spiccato and slapping of strings in the waltz section with the essential rhythm and melody conveyed by the piano. The three-way dialogue is expertly driven and managed by Selby. The fourth section has frequent moments of silence that create a false impression that the section is concluded, and seeing it performed rather than just hearing it adds to the sense of anticipation. The final section is the most lyrical and is a perfect segue into Schumann’s trio.
Winther addresses the audience and talks about the genesis of the Schumann trio, which is scored in four movements, and observes that it was composed in 1851, was a bit of an outlier in the context of Schumann’s other compositions around the same time, and was written at a time when Schumann’s health and well-being was in decline.
Winther proceeded to wear the most emphatic and studied look on his face as the Schumann got under way, perhaps continuing to think about what he has just explained to the audience. His expressive face telegraphs the drama the of the music. Newman watches Winther intently ensuring the dialogue between violin and cello is razor sharp, and it is immensely enjoyable to watch and hear. The second movement is marked by punctuated rhythms with an abundance of staccato from all instruments, and the synchronisation between them is impressively precise. This gives way to the third movement which is introspective but bright, and the fourth amplifies this with numerous declamatory points throughout the light and repeated motif. The audience loves it!
As enjoyable as the Auerbach and Schumann are, the performance of the Smetana trio is a highlight. Selby speaks about the composition and observes that Smetana was a bit of a musical rebel and refused to be consumed by the dominant Germanic ways of doing things! He is considered to be a founding father of nationalism in Czech music. Selby explains that the trio was written at a time of extreme grief in Smetana’s life coinciding with the death of his child, and as such the composition is evocative of both sad and happy memories. There are sections that are incredibly sweet and tender and brimming with love and affection, and these are contrasted with music that evokes feelings of deep grief and abject sadness. It opens enigmatically on violin, and Winther imbues the musical phrases with an eeriness. The cello joins in and immediately puts us at ease with a beautiful theme sweetly played by Newman. The violin and piano join in and Selby expertly links the musical ideas together with deft touch at the keyboard. With the flick of her wrist Selby changes the mood with finely executed passage work from sweetness to suffering. The second movement restates the closing thematic material from the first, but it is more furtive and playful, which is reflected on the faces of the trio as they glance at each other and shift in their seats. It’s fun to watch – almost a game of musical cat and mouse – but it settles and morphs into sunny melodies that gradually give way to grander themes that seem to be pregnant with meaning. It’s written on Winther’s face. The third and final movement is what the audience has been waiting for. We’ve all heard it before, somewhere, even if we don’t remember where it comes from. It begins with speed and Selby sets the character immediately. Her articulation and dynamics are exquisite, and Newman and Winther are swept up in the dialogue and punctuate it with some well controlled pizzicato as it races to the bittersweet conclusion of the celebration of a life.
The applause from the audience is exuberant and generous, but it is richly deserved. This time Newland and Selby scan the audience taking them all in, and Winther smiles contently.
Kym Clayton
When: 18 May
Where: Elder Hall
Bookings: Closed
Australian String Quartet. Elder Hall. 16 May 2025
The Australian String Quartet’s current touring program, entitled Rapture, is as much a musical event as it is a concert. As one enters the graceful Elder Hall, the audience does so in dimmed light with the focus squarely on the empty chairs set in a semicircle on the wood panelled stage bathed in a dappled red light. Red; the colour of passion and love, indeed rapture. Musical expressions of love can be mawkish, but the ASQ’s program was anything but. It was passionate and visceral, and featured works by two strikingly different composers of the past – Beethoven and Janáček – and two contemporary composers – Vanessa Perica (b.1982), from Australia, and Osvaldo Golijov (b.1960) from Argentina. Perica’s composition is receiving its national première during the tour, and she attended the concert and accepted generous applause.
The members of the ASQ not only play passionately and technically well, but they also genuinely love the music they play, and develop a deep appreciation of the composers’ intentions. This gives them an edge, a razor-sharp interpretative edge that cuts through and reveals the very heart of the music. Indeed, listening to their interpretations is sometimes like hearing a piece for the first time. This was very much the case with Beethoven’s String Quartet No.11 in F minor, Op.95, known as Serioso, and Janáček’s String Quartet No.2, known as Intimate Letters. The ensemble’s approach to both gave one pause to reflect on the range of emotions and textures in both compositions.
The Beethoven is one of his shortest quartets, and it features genre-breaking approaches that are vanguards to new stylistic expressions. The ASQ captured the inherent tension, sense of urgency, and contrasting playful joy that the piece offers. The counterpoint was beautifully exposed.
The Janáček quartet was composed late in his life and is a musical homage to a younger married woman for whom he had a deep love. Janáček said of this quartet, "... the notes glow with all the dear things that we've experienced together. You stand behind every note, you, living, forceful, loving … but everything's still only longed for ... it's beautiful, strange, unrestrained, inspired, a composition beyond all the usual conventions". The ASQ managed to capture the eclecticism of the composition as it traverses Janáček’s emotional story. It traverses a gamut of emotions and just needs to be listened to, and watched, and the audience just loved it.
It is always a special experience when hearing a new work, and so much more special when it is written by a composer who is straddling genres. In his introductory remarks from the stage, ASQ leader Dale Barltrop commented that the ensemble had been ‘watching’ Vanessa Perica for a number of years (and she them!), and that her jazz background has influenced her foray into modern classical music. As one audience member remarked to this reviewer during the interval, “there’s a lot going on in that”. Perica’s String Quartet No.1 known as No feeling is final is rich with diverse melodies that are driven at a relentless pace as they evolve and become something new not to be repeated – there is no obvious (at least on a first listening) development and recapitulation of thematic material. The motifs are ephemeral; nothing is final! The rhythms are at times jazzy, and at other times seemingly rooted in French impressionist music. At times it is brash and discordant which is then tempered with almost minimalist expressions and hypnotically repeated patters such as in the style of Philip Glass or Steve Reich. This is Perica’s first string quartet, and one can almost not wait for her second!
The concert closes with Golijov’s heat rending Tenebrae for string quartet. (It was originally scored for soprano, clarinet, and string quartet.) The stage lights were dimmed even lower for the performance as a nod to an Easter tradition of progressively extinguishing candles one by one until the congregation is left in darkness. The composition is exquisitely contemplative, and Michael Dahlenburg is especially fine on cello, and Barltrop and Francesca Hiew give a master class in the art of playing violin at the softest levels of volume without the listener being aware of the actual beginning and ends of phrases and the mechanical harshness of bow scraping across strings.
At the end of the Golijov, the audience and the ensemble sat motionless and silent for a full fifteen seconds soaking up the occasion. Then there was unbridled applause with many on their feet wolf whistling.
What an event.
Kym Clayton
When: 16 May
Where: Elder Hall
Bookings: Closed
Adelaide Festival. Adelaide Town Hall. 14 Mar 2025
One of the last events in the 2025 Adelaide Festival featured two of the world’s best artists – pianist Daniil Trifonov and baritone Matthias Goerne. In the first half of the program Trifonov performed the complete Tchaikovsky’s Children’s Album, Op. 39 (from memory), and after the interval they both presented Schubert’s glorious song cycle Schwanengesang (Swan Songs). Trifonov was originally scheduled to perform Schubert’s Piano Sonata No.21, also composed in the last year of his short life, but this was substituted by the Tchaikovsky for unstated reasons.
Tchaikovsky’s Children’s Album, Op. 39, composed in 1878, is a collection of 24 short piano pieces inspired by Robert Schumann’s Album für die Jugend, Op. 68. Tchaikovsky intended the work to provide accessible yet artistically meaningful music for young pianists, unlike technical exercises. The pieces offer vivid character, storytelling, and emotional depth, making them engaging for both players and listeners.
Each piece depicts a distinct scene or mood. While not arranged in a strict key sequence as one might find in a set of preludes, the pieces progress with a diversity of tempo, character, and difficulty. They range from simple, folk-like melodies to more expressive and technically intricate compositions. Although written for young pianists, the suite presents challenges that require both technical control and musical sensitivity, with many of them demanding nuanced phrasing and dynamic contrast. Trifonov demonstrated his masterful technique with staccato mischievousness in The Hobby Horse and silky-smooth legato in Sweet Dream, crisp and steady rhythm in March of the Wooden Soldiers, and finely managed pedal control throughout. His performance of In Church was eerily but sublimely contemplative. Trifonov has remarkable forearm strength and is consequently very economical in his body physicality. Although the writing is comparatively unpretentious, it still requires the pianist to vividly tell stories, and Trifonov is clearly a storyteller of the first order.
When it was finished, the audience erupted in generous and sustained applause knowing they had witnessed a pianist at the very top of the game breathing life and purpose into a work that is infrequently presented on the professional concert stage.
Schubert’s Schwanengesang (Swan Songs) is a posthumous collection of songs published in 1829, the year after the composer’s death. Unlike his earlier cycles, Die schöne Müllerin (1823) and Winterreise (1827), Schwanengesang was not originally conceived as a unified song cycle. Instead, it consists of 14 songs set to texts by Ludwig Rellstab, Heinrich Heine, and (in some editions) Johann Gabriel Seidl. Despite this, the collection is often considered a cycle because of its cohesive emotional and musical themes, making it a profound final statement from Schubert. In that sense, the collection is very much Schubert’s ‘swan song’ in the colloquial meaning of the term, and the title Swan Song was coined by his publisher, not Schubert himself.
Unlike in Die schöne Müllerin and Winterreise, which comprise structured narrative cycles telling stories of love, rejection, heartbreak, alienation and despair, Schwanengesang is a thematic collection and lacks a single protagonist. However, its songs explore various facets of love and farewell. The Rellstab songs (e.g., Liebesbotschaft, Frühlingssehnsucht) evoke themes of nature, romantic yearning, and passion, often with an undercurrent of melancholy. They are lyrical and nature-focused, often portraying love through external imagery like flowing water and springtime breezes. In contrast, the Heine settings are psychologically intense, full of irony, despair, and supernatural elements (e.g., Der Doppelgänger involves ghostly self-confrontation), and they introduce a more tragic, haunted atmosphere, reflecting betrayal, memory, and death.
Schubert’s music enhances the emotions in each poem through harmonic shifts, melodic expression, and piano writing. The rippling arpeggios of Liebesbotschaft suggest a murmuring brook, while the dark, relentless chords in Der Doppelgänger create a chilling sense of dread. Die Stadt uses impressionistic, eerie piano textures to depict fog-covered waters. Trifonov perfectly navigated varied textures and moods, from the delicate arpeggios to stark, unaccompanied chords. He maintained Schubert’s long lyrical lines while all the time balancing the vocal melody. Goerne superbly handled the lyrical beauty and tremendous emotional depth of the songs, and his legato phrasing especially in Ständchen was honeyed. Goerne’s broad dynamic range is remarkable, with evenness across the very soft to the very loud. Like Trifonov, Goerne is a master storyteller, and it is easy to see why he has been so successful in opera.
Together, Trifonov and Goerne maintained a natural and unforced flow between songs all the time respecting the varying poetic and musical characters. They each fed off the other and ensured that Trifonov’s accompaniment supported Goerne’s compelling delivery and never overpowered.
A superb concert.
Kym Clayton
When: 14 Mar
Where: Adelaide Town Hall
Bookings: Closed
Adelaide Festival. Elder Hall. 13 Mar 2025
As part of the Adelaide Festival’s Daylight Express Series at the Elder Hall, Finnish piano virtuoso Paavali Jumppanen performed two behemoths from the piano literature: Pierre Boulez’s Piano Sonata No.2, and Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 29 in B-flat Major, Op. 106 (Hammerklavier). We are reliably informed this is the first time these two works have been presented together in an Australian concert hall, and it is no surprise. Neither work is for the faint hearted, and Finnish virtuoso Paavali Jumppanen is clearly not that. The two compositions, when paired in a single performance, present an Everest of a challenge to the performer, and Paavali Jumppanen is both Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay rolled into one. Not only are the two works fiendishly difficult to play, but they also make huge demands on the listener.
Scholars have sometimes compared the two compositions due to their extreme technical demands, structural complexity, and radical rethinking of musical form. Both works push the limits of what was considered possible on the piano in their respective times, embodying an uncompromising, forward-thinking approach to composition. (The Beethoven was composed in 1818 and the Boulez in 1947-48.)
Both sonatas demand virtuosic technique and stamina. The Hammerklavier is one of Beethoven’s most difficult piano works, requiring extraordinary control, power, and endurance. It expands the classical sonata form to monumental proportions and includes a fugue in the final movement that pushes counterpoint to almost breaking point. Boulez’s Piano Sonata No. 2 is also notorious for its extreme technical challenges, including rapid tempo shifts, complex rhythms, and dense textures. Although titled a sonata, it barely follows the expected path and incorporates serialism and pseudo-randomness. The Beethoven is tonal, melodic, and formal, whereas the Boulez is atonal, melodies are ephemeral and never developed, and there is no attempt at harmony. Like the Beethoven, it too breaks with rules and traditions that were current at the time they were composed.
To play them requires not only exquisite technique, which Jumppanen has in abundance, but also a deep understanding of musical structure and form, even knowing that both are sacred cows about to be slaughtered. The Beethoven is deeply expressive and dramatic, and both lyrical and grand, whereas the Boulez is cold and severe. Their connection lies in their boldness – each piece, in its own era, was a radical redefinition of what a piano sonata could be.
When Jumppanen first came on stage he fixed his eyes on the Steinway, barely acknowledged the audience, and launched into his performance. He was playing before he was barely seated! For those in the audience who had prior experience with the Boulez, which was listed first in the program, it was clear that he wasn’t playing it, and nor was it the Beethoven. A few short minutes later he finished and directly spoke to the audience announcing that he played an encore first, because he often forgot to do so! (It was Debussy’s Etude No.7.) Looking back on what was to come, there could be no encore after performing both the Boulez and the Beethoven, which together account for nearly 80 minutes of the most intense, athletic, intellectual and dynamic pianism one could ever wish to experience. Jumppanen used music for the Boulez, and the page turner (the inimitable Esmond Choi, a local star in the making) was up and down every thirty-five seconds. Using the printed music is perfectly understandable: how could one possibly remember it? The human mind constantly seeks structure against which to organise thoughts and remember, but the Boulez defies all that. On the other hand, Jumppanen played the Beethoven from memory, all eleven-hundred-and-sixty-plus bars of it, coming in at around forty-six minutes!
At the end of the concert, barely before the sounds of the crushing final fortissimo B-flat major chord began to fade, the audience leapt to their feet almost as one and enthusiastically applauded, cheered, whistled and shouted “bravo!” at what was undoubtedly an extraordinary pianistic and musical feat. One member of the audience within earshot of this reviewer could be overheard to remark that this was surely the highlight of the festival. A big call, but a big and important concert too! People will talk about this one for months to come, and rightly so.
Kym Clayton
When: 13 Mar
Where: Elder Hall
Bookings: Closed