Musica Viva. Adelaide Town Hall. 8 Jun 2023
Garrick Ohlsson speaks from the stage at various times during his recitals to give the audience the benefit of his deep thinking and reading about the music he plays. What he says is not necessarily revelatory or exotic, but it is interesting and gives us a teasing glimpse into what a musician at the top of his piano game thinks about. Ohlsson is at his eloquent best at the keyboard. Anything that he really has to say about the music is said by way of his playing, and it is awe inspiring to experience.
Ohlsson is playing two programs on his current Australian tour for Musica Viva, and the program enjoyed by the Adelaide audience comprised works by Debussy, Barber, and Chopin, as well as a new work by contemporary Hobart-based composer Thomas Misson that was privately commissioned for Musica Viva to be performed by Ohlsson. He commented there was an inherent risk in agreeing in advance to première a new work by a living composer, because you couldn’t be aware of what it would be like. As a performer you are aware of the composer’s previous compositions, but couldn’t know what was next. Thankfully, Ohlsson cheekily quipped, Misson’s new work Convocations (composed this year) was “pretty good”. And indeed, it was. Many modern compositions are episodic in nature, with tenuous connections between the individual sections, and Convocations is of that ilk. At its heart is a six-note tone row and the sections explore and vary the motif. It starts almost in French impressionistic style, and soon a repeated note in the right-hand tugs us out of its meditation-inducing impact. As it progresses, we sense the piece’s connections with the other compositions Ohlsson performed before it: Debussy’s Suite bergamasque, L.75 (1905), and Barber’s mighty Piano Sonata in E-flat minor, Op.26 (1949).
The expansive stage of the Adelaide Town Hall was sober: no decorations, just the Steinway concert grand piano flanked by two suspended Musica Viva banners and the imposing Walker & Sons pipe organ providing the backdrop. The austerity of the setting was however apt – it focussed all attention on Ohlsson and the music. The four-section Suite bergamasque fares best when played with simplicity and clarity without indulging in overstressed displays of technical prowess and wallowing in Debussy’s poetic melodies. Ohlsson did just that, and his thoughtful and refined approach included personal interpretive touches such as more rubato in the iconic Clair de lune section than one might otherwise be accustomed.
The feeling of reverie induced by the Debussy was soon dashed by the fire of Samuel Barber’s Piano Sonata in E-flat minor. It is a masterpiece of the twentieth century and was met with immediate critical acclaim when it premièred in 1949. It is still greatly admired although, sadly, it is infrequently included in recital programs. Technically it is punishing, and demands virtuosity of the first order. Often, a pianist signals this through intense body language at the keyboard, but not Ohlsson, who appears seemingly at ease. He scarcely shifts in his seat, and his shoulders barely move from the same vertical plane. He has incredible forearm strength but can also execute the most delicate filigree and pianissimo passages with ease. Ohlsson’s performance is accentuated by clarity, and this is especially evident in the final fugue movement, in which he exposed and laid bare the individual voices and the relationships between the variations. The ease with which he tossed off the final cadenza made the audience draw breath.
Ohlsson is unquestionably one of the world’s best living interpreters of Chopin, arguably the best. His performance of the Variations brillantes, Op.12 (1833), was poetic and refined. There were no surprises, except what is difficult was made to appear simple. Ohlsson then played the slow third movement of Chopin’s Piano Sonata No.1 in C minor, Op.4 (1828) and remarked to the audience that it was the most impressive movement from the sonata which was a “student effort” of Chopin, but that he was still a “very good student”. The concert concluded with a masterful display of Chopin’s Scherzo No.2 in B-flat minor, Op.31 (1837). It is one of Chopin’s most recognisable works, and as Ohlsson was racing to its triumphant conclusion the audience was readying itself for an explosive display of appreciation at what was truly a masterful display of pianism by one of the world’s best.
Kym Clayton
When: 8 Jun
Where: Adelaide Town Hall
Bookings: Closed
Thebarton Theatre. 8 Jun 2023
I’ve attended Henry Rollins performances for over 30 years now; first he was a member of Black Flag, then fronted the Rollins Band, then as a spoken word performer. Rollins is always switched on in full performance mode when he is in public, and he is as practiced and determined in crafting his persona as any great actor. The discipline, the resolve, is part of his thing. This much Rollins (even with the passage of time I could not allow the familiarity of calling him Henry) allows us to understand as he assures us he would have toured earlier had Covid allowed it. He loves coming to Australia and the feeling is reciprocated; this is a massive list of dates he has signed on for.
He hits the stage at 8 pm on the dot, as advertised. There is no introduction though he speaks in general terms about his life and career for the first few minutes, no doubt aware that many in the audience have not seen him before. As he speaks, he rocks back and forth on his feet, for two hours and twenty-five minutes precisely, noting at one point as he does that he takes no pauses, not even a drink of water. This is something he wishes us to understand and note in turn. He considers it a strength; that he can master his body and direct it to his whim for that time. His stance is one wing low, he holds his body at an angle to the microphone, his delivery powerful and pushy, yet not so demanding as it was when he was that angry young man, though the anger remains. It is, perhaps, a little smoother, focussed, less jagged, or as he describes it later, more concerned with the bigger picture of things, not individuals so much as poverty, inequality, the dislike of ignorance and intolerance, and he makes a special plea for the rights of trans and LGBTIQ+.
As the words rush out and he builds in intensity the topics tumble; some ideas on the American love for guns, and a refusal to condemn nearly half the American population as stupid, before he ponders out loud the wisdom of “carpet bombing a Nascar event” and whether reducing the population of the US to a mere one million people would be a good thing. It sounds nihilistic, yet he immediately reverses direction: “It would work but we can’t do that.” He builds into the first of his big stories for tonight, a tale from the American Midwest when he is bailed up by a chronically jealous husband who accuses him of having spirited his wife on board the tour bus.
One of the major themes for tonight is, understandably, mortality, and the story emerges of his parents, divorced, broken, and largely dismissed. Are they, though? It is clear that in not being able to tour the world he has had plenty of time to consider life’s cycle. Age and the passing of time is his dominant theme, and he talks of death. Rollins possibly considers it a weakness to care about his biological parents, and so in telling the story of his mother Iris and her second husband Les, Rollins invests no emotion, even with the passing of his mother and her final scene, a tale which involves the ducks of Rock Creek, Washington. Curiously, perhaps, this tough guy persona which Rollins enacts for himself seems the least likeable aspect of his character. Tonight it seems possible to perceive its use as a deflection, a device to shield himself. Even when he describes learning to be a street fighter as the singer of Black Flag (it is usually allowed he gave as good as he got in the many fights) he claims to have been not so good. This self-effacing claim is the shrug of irritation. He wants you to know he is a fighter; he wants you to know ‘he ain’t that good’. It is the classic shrug. He speaks of fame (“for a brief moment there back in 1983” he laughs) and tells a story of being stalked by a fan, whom he dubs ‘Finland Boy’. Another shrug.
As the show winds up, he invokes the spirit of a hero, Iggy Pop, and he considers the strength of solitude and living alone; his interactions seem largely to be limited to touring the world and being approached everywhere for selfies by his fans. His message in this final part of the show is then ‘old people stand aside and let the young take over’. Yet he gives no sign he really believes it to be true. It is he – 62 years young – standing on stage challenging the world to take him on. Does the world need another pissed off middle aged white guy (orange is the new black and 60 is the new 40, yada yada) shouting his version of the truth? Apparently so since the Thebarton Theatre was damn near full.
To see Henry Rollins in full flight is to see a human dynamo, his output apparently undimmed through time. As he rushes towards the close, he tells the story of the young woman who takes a selfie with him and immediately sends it to her father; within seconds a reply is received. Rollins, a servant of time and of no one else reads the cell phone screen: “If only your grandfather was alive to see this.”
Alex Wheaton
When: 8 Jun
Where: Thebarton Theatre
Bookings: Closed
Tour Bookings: henryrollins.com/tour
Continues throughout June and July to the locations in the Northern Territory, Queensland, the ACT, Victoria, New South Wales, and Tasmania.
Australian String Quartet. Adelaide Town Hall. 22 May 2023
The power of music is indisputable. It can brighten our mood, heighten our awareness, and transport us fleetingly to distant places. It can allow us to discern different possibilities, perhaps even give us a glimpse of the ideal. The musical selections in the ASQ’s current national touring program – Utopias – do all those things, and some.
Styled Utopia, the program comprises three diverse compositions: Arcadiana, by Thomas Adès; String Quartet No.15 in D minor, K.421, by Mozart; and String Quartet No.9 in E-flat major, Op.117, by Shostakovich. Through the medium of the string quartet, each composition shows the composer at work trying to articulate something that is more superior than what has come before, whether it be pure music that is in some sense better constructed, or the depiction of a concept that represents a preferred or more idealised state.
Each of Arcadiana’s seven sections is, we are told, a different study of the nature of paradise. As such, the music is abstract, and the instruments are used in ways that elicit other-worldly sounds. The music making doesn’t beg to be observed visually. Rather, it’s a purely aural experience and the novel sound-world entices you into yourself almost in a meditative state, and the next twenty minutes drifts on by. At the conclusion, there was nothing but hushed silence throughout the Adelaide Town Hall with not a sound coming from the large audience for a full five seconds as they returned to the moment from wherever their minds took them. And then the applause was effusive. In lesser hands, Arcadiana may not have had the same effect. The ASQ played with sublime musicality, it’s as simple as that.
Mozart’s String Quartet No.15 is an example of a composition that is close to perfection – something from musical utopia if you wish. The ASQ approached it with tenderness, as if it were a delicate thing that needed to be managed with abundant care. The musicians were able to find and expose the innate simplicity in the piece, giving it a freshness and clarity that is somewhat uncommon. From an audience perspective, one sensed we were glimpsing Mozart at the peak of his powers.
In his String Quartet No.9, like in many other of his compositions, Shostakovich expresses his anguish at the consequences of war. He himself dedicated the quartet “In remembrance of the victims of fascism and war.” The piece is sober and grave, but it also has a sense of yearning as its varied melodies and rhythms inextricably move us towards something more positive. Arguably, Shostakovich was denied his utopia in his lifetime, but this quartet, which is the one most frequently played, glimpses him idealising it. Again, the musicians of the ASQ approached this moving composition with unnerving artistry.
The true beauty of this program was not to be found only just in the superlative musicianship of the ensemble. The skilful programming was at the heart of its success. Bravo ASQ.
Kym Clayton
When: 22 May
Where: Adelaide Town Hall
Bookings: Closed
Musica Viva. Adelaide Town Hall. 26 Apr 2023
Musica Viva can be relied upon to present the uncommon, and the combination of flute, viola and harp is about as uncommon as it gets. Put together three young international artists who are at the very top of their game, throw in infrequently performed repertoire, and you have the makings of an evening of exceptional music making; and remarkable it was.
Tonight’s concert is the opening night of Musica Viva’s current national tour featuring virtuoso artists Adam Walker (flute), Timothy Ridout (viola), and Anneleen Lenaerts (harp). Titled Among the Birds and the Trees, the program featured diverse compositions that channelled the natural world and explored the human response as mystical appreciation.
The three artists laid bare their impressive musical credentials with solo performances that included George Benjamin’s challenging Flight for Solo Flute (written in 1979), Debussy’s Estampes (1903) arranged for solo harp, and Telemann’s Fantasia No.7 in E-flat major for solo viola (1735). The three compositions are starkly contrasted, with the uber atonality of the Benjamin, the ethereal delicateness of the Debussy, and the warmth and nobility of the Telemann. The soloists imparted a sense of theatre to their performances. Walker performed in a single spot of light on far stage left, which underlined the sense of loneliness of the Benjamin; the light faded on him and Lenaerts took to stage centre with the Debussy, and when the last ripple of sound disappeared into the expanse of the Town Hall (too big for a solo harp), the lights came up on Ridout on stage right.
With the final note of the Telemann, and with Ridout’s final bow, the three join each other at stage centre and give an impassioned performance of Sofia Gubaidulina’s Garden of Joy and Sorrow (1980, 1993). As Ridout remarked from the stage, the piece “forcefully juxtaposes” both western and eastern musical traditions, and the sound world of the work is quite astonishing. The harp is played to produce sounds that are quite at odds with what we would normally expect (can you imagine the drone sounds produced as the harp’s tuning key is drawn across the strings?), and the flute and viola combine to heighten our emotional response to what is an exotic and poignant piece. For this reviewer, it was the highlight of the evening.
After the interval, the trio performed Messiaen, Takemitsu, and finished with Debussy, who essentially provided the backbone for the entire program.
Messiaen ‘s Le Merle noir (The Blackbird) (1952) is a prime example of Messiaen’s preoccupation with spirituality. The piece is infused with lightness and eerily evocative sounds (particularly from the flute) that almost induce a meditative state. As ones’ eyes involuntarily close, one briefly drifts away in a state of contemplation.
Takemitsu’s And then I knew ‘twas Wind (1992) was originally composed as a companion piece for Debussy’s Sonata for Flute, Viola and Harp, which finished the program. The harp provides its backbone, with fragments of diverse melodies always gravitating back to the harp, which is exquisitely played by Lenaerts. The piece is, for obvious reasons, infused with eastern sounds, and ‘fits’ with being performed alongside of the Messiaen. This is no accident of programming.
Lenaerts then performs Debussy’s most recognisable composition Clair de Lune arranged for solo harp, for which it works especially well.
And then to Debussy’s Sonata for Flute, Viola and Harp (1915), which was revolutionary when it was written and a testimony to Debussy’s genius for combining three diverse instruments. Again, it all fits. The finale highlights superb partnerships between the viola and the harp in particular.
The sizeable audience left the Town Hall well satisfied by three extremely talented artists and an unusual program.
Bravo Musica Viva, again.
Kym Clayton
When: 26 Apr
Where: Adelaide Town Hall
Bookings: Closed
Adelaide Symphony Orchestra. Adelaide Town Hall. 21 Apr 2023
Dubbed Wild, the second concert in the ASO’s Symphony Series, was an exciting, exuberant, and animated ride. The drawcard for concert goers was undoubtedly Saint-Saëns’ mighty Symphony No.3 in C minor, Op. 78 – the so-called Organ Symphony – but the real surprise of the program was a world première performance of a new Concerto for Violin and Orchestra (Fantasie im Wintergarten) commissioned by the ASO, composed by Elena Kats-Chernin, and written for and performed by Emily Sun.
Kats-Chernin is a prolific composer, and her music is well known. Her compositions frequently overturn conventional musical approaches and are exemplified by strong and unexpected contrasts. Kats-Chernin authored her own notes for the printed program and describes the concerto as providing “…Emily a great vehicle to showcase virtuosity, and edgy sounds, as well as heartbreakingly poetic suspended lines”, and this is precisely what we got. At the start, the audience was confronted with seemingly out-of-place latin rhythms and sounds coming from instruments as diverse as strings, castanets, tuba, and harp, as they weaved in and out of tightly constructed but emotive melodies. Sun’s playing was sure and confident, and she was equally at home with the piece’s gritty technical challenges, dissonance and contrasting harmonies, as she was with the aching tenderness of its soaring melodies. Kats-Chernin has a rare insight into how to marry musical forces that are essentially in conflict, and how to lay bare opposites that are different faces of the same thing. As the piece unfolded, the audience increasingly warmed to it and became absorbed. There was sustained and exuberant applause at its finale, and Kats-Chernin, who was present for the performance, graciously accepted her accolades on stage alongside of Sun and conductor Benjamin Northey.
The concerto was bookended by a thrilling performance of Berlioz’s overture Le Corsair, and of course the Organ Symphony, and what a pair of bookends they were! Northey gave a snappy and sprightly reading of Le Corsair and allowed its panache and style to come through clearly. The violins and brass were especially fine with crisp articulation.
The Organ Symphony never ceases to appeal, and performing it is a knife’s-edge experience, for both the orchestra and the audience. It is written for a very large orchestra, with expanded woodwind, brass and percussion sections, as well as piano (for both two and four hands) as well as pipe organ. The stage in the Adelaide Town Hall was full to overflowing, and it was a wonderous sight to behold. Northey allowed the agitation and disquiet in the opening movement to come through clearly, but it wasn’t always as well articulated as it might be, with woodwinds being overshadowed by the more ebullient brass. Similarly, later in the work, after the mighty Walker & Sons pipe organ had well and truly announced itself, the lush and sweeping melody played on the grand piano was all but overwhelmed by the rest of the orchestra. But these are minor grumbles, and the vastness and majesty of the symphony consumed all in its stride and the ride was exhilarating.
The very large audience left very satisfied, and with many ear worms to cope with for hours to come!
Kym Clayton
When: 21 Apr
Where: Adelaide Town Hall
Bookings: Closed