SSO playalong

My concern over climate change is more scientific and desperate than the gentler public face of Earth Hour but perhaps not as influential. I guess you need both. Anyway, this year I took part in Earth Hour if as a personal indulgence. (Lots of Earth Hour is like that as is the way with many public campaigns; think candle-lit dinners). I played with the Sydney Symphony Orchestra, if only privately in my practice room. SSO were playing Holst Planets suite in the Opera House. They were conducted by David Robertson on Conductor-Cam. It's repetitive and not overly difficult, at least for bass. There were various messages to start sections on the screen and bar numbering in the top right corner. Numerous local performances were webcast over 24-hours around the world as the Global Orchestra. Amusing and good sight reading practice.

The Sydney Symphony Orchestra and the Global Orchestra under David Robertson performed Holst Planets suite for Earth Hour and this was webcast as the Concert for the planet.

Bringing jazz to the concert hall

This is a jazz site so a concert by the Sydney Symphony Orchestra entitled Jazz inspirations is a must, even if it’s in the Sydney Opera House. Sydney’s somewhat a suburb of Canberra these days, given the easy drive, or perhaps it‘s the other way around. Megan and I did one of our day trips. The program was Shostakovich Gershwin and Prokofiev with the jazz theme. I was intrigued. The Shostakovich were three little numbers, more Palm Court Orchestra than jazz, but cute. They were a waltz, a polka and a foxtrot. The players were (left to right) piano, bass, banjo/slide guitar, violin, soprano, alto, tenor saxes, glockenspiel, trombone and conductor. More bass pizz from classicists that you might expect. The odd banjo sound, which placed it in US country as well as ragtime, especially given one slide guitar solo. The violin was all heavy vibrato and intimations of gypsy jazz. This was cute music with melody constantly moving between instruments. Attractive and cute and I reckon I’ve heard some before, in films of other.

Second was Gershwin Piano concerto in F. I got the feeling there’s some dismissiveness in the classical community around Gershwin being serious. (“Classical crossover goes both ways when Dmitri Shostakovich dabbles in jazz and George Gershwin tries his hand at ‘serious’ music” / SSO website http://www.sydneysymphony.com/production-pages/2013/concert-season/thibaudet-plays-gershwin.aspx viewed 8 Dec 2013). We chatted with two women after and their favourite was Gershwin (mine was the Prokofiev). The notes say that critics observed “structural deficiencies” and that there’s “not much development” and a certain amount of repetition but some “highly effective melodies”. All obvious when you’ve read the notes, and true. I loved the melodies: fabulous and effective as Gershwin can be. I felt it was a simple work, lots of American ebullience, great swells, whole sections playing melody together. I enjoyed it immensely, bathed in its luxurious lyricism but I could see it’s a different beast from a classical construction. Lovely but different and not so complex. The pianist was Jean-Yves Thibaudet. He’s a renowned pianist with many recordings to his name including Gershwin arrangements for the Paul Whiteman. He encored with a take on I’ve got rhythm, presumably the Ferde Grofé arrangement for Paul Whiteman that Thibaudet had previously recorded. Like much jazz/classical crossover, I was a bit troubled by the sense of swing, but otherwise these guys have chops (to use jazz expressions).

My favourite of the afternoon was Prokofiev Symphony no.5 in Bb Op. 100. It’s a good jazz key but also a “sort of Soviet-style blues or Muscovite one-step” has been found in the second movement. It was also written in 1945 so expressed joy at the end of the war and wariness of Stalin, and this is more what I heard in it. Much more complex and contorted and rich than the Gershwin, but without that gorgeous lyricism and joyous enthusiasm.

The Sydney Symphony Orchestra performed at the Sydney Opera House under James Gaffigan (conductor). They performed Shostakovich Suite for Jazz Orchestra no.1, Gershwin Piano concerto in F with Jean-Yves Thibaudet (piano) and Prokofiev Symphony no.5 in Bb.

Bohemia (with Viennese interlude)

We’d listened to Dvořák’s Symphony no. 8 driving to Sydney in the morning and I wasn’t particularly looking forward to it. We were going to the Opera House to hear Bohemian adventure, a performance by the Sydney Symphony Orchestra. It’s the second of our three matinee runs we’ve booked for 2013 to get to know the SSO. It was a nice day, we know an easy park, we quickly checked out the latest World Press Photos on exhibition at the State Library, and I settled into the Opera House with some trepidation.

Our Bohemian adventure was three pieces: Bartók Divertimento for strings, Mozart Piano concerto no.22 in E flat and Dvoarak Symphony no.8 in G. I’d expected to be most intrigued by the Bartók and from the first notes I was entranced by jazz harmonies and lines reminiscent of Gershwin, high range dissonance against low range consonance, restrained tempo and boxy but disjointed crochet-quaver melodies. The playing was strong, confident, outspoken. I was seriously enjoying this orchestra (if not the noisy audience). The third movement livens up, more virtuosic in style and even jokey with pizzicato contrasting with bows. I enjoyed some challenging counting. I thought one spot was 4-5-3-3, but it ended before I was sure. This was written in 1939 and thoughts of impending doom are around. It’s just strings and they can be cloying, but this was a very satisfying work. Then Mozart, lovely in its classical dignity; a big change although not unexpected. This was lighter, more even and formal and courtly with horns and brass and descending chordal movements. I thought the trumpets did an excellent job and enjoyed the swelling strings and pensive second movement (forget the audience again) and the billowing brass and flowing notes and the pretty, never-forced melody throughout. I loved the sweetness of high notes on the piano with lid removed, but wondered what the original would have sounded like. I was amused by Jonathon Biss’ sweeping physical movements and loved the endless pretty melodies. How lovely was this!

Then Dvořák and we were very pleasantly surprised. This is a good orchestra. The movement and colour and development were evident. Listening in the car, the work had just seemed undirected, undeveloped, disjointed. This orchestra was big and the sounds were abundant. The intonation seemed comfortable and the orchestra played willingly and as a whole. I felt a touch of discomfort with high strings, but this is common and has me wishing to hear some great orchestras and how they handle that. And the articulation was neat and responsive as parts moved around. I blissed on some bird-like flutes; I enjoyed dance-like sections and filmic panoramas, but the big, melliflous tones had me. This piece was much more interesting than we’d expected and I put that down to a capable orchestra made comfortable with frequent performances. We’re starting to understand the SSO and recognise faces and I’m becoming more convinced.

Conductor Antonello Manacorda was given flowers that looked all the world like a botanic coffin and it had us chuckling, but it was also the pleasure of a performance that had us leaving in such good cheer. Great gig! Antonello Manacorda (conductor) led the Sydney Symphony Orchestra at the Opera House. They performed Bartók Divertimento for strings, Mozart Piano concerto no.22 in E flat and Dvořák Symphony no.8 in G. Jonathan Biss (piano) performed the Mozart.

SSO in the raw

I’ve heard the Sydney Symphony Orchestra several times recently, but never raw like this. They were playing Rite of Spring in this 100th anniversary of the work. It was a riot when it was first performed in Paris. It’s not like that now. The audience loved it and I was one. It’s a riotous mix of loud and soft, virginal and savage. You have to think of Picasso and his mates at the time in Paris intrigued and influenced by the primitive. The sounds are anything but classicism: block chords; instruments moving in parallel; riotous and brutal rhythms; great flittering movements of matching phrases and contrasting lines; heavy with drums; lightened by flutes; and the orchestra reading irregular bars. The SSO sounded different: rough, sometimes careless, butit was apt for this departure from staid civilisation. We may not understand that people cared so much in 1913, but given they did, I can understand the riot on the opening night. It was written for Nijinski’s dancers, so this was bigger and more offensive to that changing world than even the music. It reminds me of King Kong at the gate (in these days of a new Australian Kong) taking the maiden sacrifice. Its influence is now so imbibed, through movies, even cartoons, yet it still thrills. We sat next to two cello students from the Sydney Con. Was it rough, like I thought? Were the imprecise orchestral hits written? No, we were right, this was rough, but it had such life. As it should; as is needed. Loved it.

But it was not the whole program, and it was not all so raw. First was another Stravinsky, Song of the nightingale, about real and mechanical nightingales and an Emporer’s sickness. It’s a short opera with plot borrowed from Hans Christian Anderson. The real and mechanical nightingales are obvious when you listen for them: the real is pure and creative on flute; the machanical is abrasive and limited, with perhaps only one song. Second was Mendelssohn’s Violin concerto in E minor. It was an attractive work to my ear, and the conversation between violin and orchestra was neat so the violin was seldom lost. Concerto soloists needs sturdy technique and strong volume: there are a lot of instruments over her shoulder. I enjoyed the purity of the violin and the thrill of the high harmonics she plays to. There were some cadenza passages, too, that intrigued me: triplets shredding over the four strings. I wondered how they could be played and must relisten to a recording. I realise also that it’s a good key for violin, with a low G (minor 3rd) featuring early (the lowest open string) and the E tonic on the highest string and those octave harmonics. Again, a wonderful and neat performance.

I was surprised by the acoustics. The Opera House is not renowned for them, but from where we sat, literally the last row (Y) this sounded good, or maybe a touch toppy. I reckon they’ve done much work with numerous mics hanging down into the auditorium (I am assuming those sausages are mics) and several PA speakers hanging from the roof. The piccolo may have cut too strongly, but I liked this sound.

In summary, I prefered the rabid excitement of the Rite of Spring, but enjoyed both other more staid works. The Sydney Symphony Orchestra performed Song of the nightingale and Rite of Spring by Stravinsky and Mendelssohn’s Violin concerto in E minor. Arabella Steinbacher (violin) soloed for the violin concerto and Charles Dutoit (conductor) led the orchestra.

Sydney comes to Canberra

The SSO were in town for C100. Or to put it without acronyms, the Sydney Symphony Orchestra were on a regional tour and visited Canberra for our 100th birthday celebration. Apparently this was their first visit for 10 years. They played at the Llewellyn Hall. I was interested to hear this outfit. James spoke highly of the musicians. I’d only heard the SSO in the Opera House, and that’s big and impersonal and not renowned for its acoustics, but I know Llewellyn and I’ve been hearing the CSO and other orchestras recently, so my ears are more attuned. Also, they were playing another Beethoven symphony and I’m still (in my classical innocence) marking them off.

James was right. These guys are very, very good and I’m not at all surprised: they are full time professionals in a standing orchestra; they are performing every few days; Australian musicians are capable and well trained. I sat in three spots for three pieces: two in the dress circle and one in the stalls under the dress circle. I was surprised by how differently it sounded. The orchestra wasn’t large so I thought this was why they sounded tame and thin upstairs, but they were suddenly full and satisfying and comfortably loud under the arch. I also heard the sound as quite unbalanced when I was upstairs: heavy on bass and lacking on higher strings. They played Stravinsky, Brahms and Beethoven. My favourite was Stravinsky’s lively highlights from Pucinella: more modern with more complex and choppy rhythms and a comical segment of bass and trombone. Then Brahm’s Violin concerto Op.77 in D. This was complex, perhaps turgid, quite difficult to follow (not just my observation). I listened for the violin solo that has become the written standard. It’s a strange habit of classical music, that improvisations have become written parts. I was disappointed that I often lost the solo violin when the orchestra entered. I wondered if this was violin volume or a function of the upstairs acoustics. I was just a little uncomfortable with this piece. Then interval and a return with Beethoven’s (Pastoral) Symphony no.6, Op.86 in F major. I was seated downstairs and right from the first notes I could hear comfort and confidence with its simple melodies and evident variations. Not that it was my favourite, but it was beautifully played and an unforced composition. The idyll of the countryside was a favourite theme at that time, all birds and pastures and and thunderstorms. It seemed a pretty easy piece to perform although there were some devastating bass lines in the thunderstorm sequence. Maybe the orchestra just made it look easy. The orchestra (and two extra horns) played on with an encore on Handel's Water music. Who can help but love a fusillade of brass?

So, the program wasn’t immensely challenging but I was mightily impressed by the orchestra. They sounded beautifully together and from the right vantage point they were full sounding and well balanced and their phrases passed easily between players and melded into a lovely whole. I was thinking of how I would express their character, though. They played beautifully and accurately together, but perhaps clinically. Maybe it’s professional musos who play daily and are performing a pretty mainstream program. Maybe it’s the nature of a modern concert hall compared to the ornamented box-like concert halls of Europe. Maybe it’s an Australian take on music with a German character: shared professionalism and skills but different culture. It seemed clinical and correct to my ears but I don’t mean that as a value judgement. I was mightily impressed by the SSO and very glad I attended this concert.

Jessica Cottis (conductor) led the Sydney Symphony Orchestra with members of Sydney Sinfonia. Katerina Nazarova (violin) played the Brahms concerto. The pieces were Stravinsky Pucinella suite, Brahms Violin concerto and Beethoven Symphony no.6 in F Op.69 (Pastoral).

B9 v.2

It was at the Sydney Opera House with the Sydney Symphony Orchestra and the Sydney Philharmonia Choir that we caught our second live performance of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, the famed Choral Symphony, the Ode to Joy. Our first experience is written up here in CJ when we heard B9 done at the Llewellyn by the Canberra Symphony. I know the work a bit more now. Megan and I both experienced this performance as less ecstatic than the Canberra one but more considered and understood. Perhaps it was our location: we had seats in the boxes above and behind the basses. The Music became 3-D with the choir to the right of us and basses to the left. I could follow the bass line in detail, and this was hugely instructive. I had great sight from behind of the fourth bass in the front row: watching the bowing (he wielded a German bow amongst 6 French and 2 German) and the fingering and even the trivial tasks like turning pages and rosining the bow. It was amusing, too, to see the casualness amongst the players: percussionists tapping while waiting several movements for their written part; brass players draining their instruments; the tedium of counting bars; the discomfort of the singers eye-to-eye with the audience throughout the third movement. But also the joy of a good line: Megan particularly noted the timpanist was having a great time. But the performance was serious enough, and demanding. I was following the basses and there were plenty of demanding lines there. But we could also see and hear the various wind instruments: the flutes that passed lines to oboes and bassoons. The cornets that waited, waited, then tapped a note to give harder edge to a repeated horn line. That contrabassoon that I was waiting to see used, then missed. And perhaps the biggest opportunity of all was to see the conductor, Vladimir Ashkenazy, and how he leads his orchestra. I mostly watched his conducting in the Richard Strauss piece (more later) and was a non-plussed. I understand a conductor taps the beat at the top of a baton stroke, and sometimes he did, but he also tapped more frequently and outside the beat at times, perhaps to speed the players up, then other times it was sweeps of emotion rather than direction. That I didn’t comprehend. The voices were blissful as ever. I enjoyed the play of male and female voices and the gut wrench of the tutti. Also, although we were behind the featured singers, we could hear them well enough and, despite the warbled traditions of classical vibrato, I loved the playful interplay. It’s easy to see why this is such a loved and respected work. Despite all the drama and dynamics and stops and starts, nothing ever seems forced. Every line just fits and leads to the next, however diverse. Everything is purposeful. Not for nothing that Beethoven is so respected. One more thing I noticed, and this of the Opera House: it’s surprisingly intimate when viewed from the stage. I’d sat in rear rows for another SSO concert, and the orchestra seemed like dots in the distance. From the stage, the rows of audience well up in serried ranks and the impression is of intimacy. Do the players realise how distant it all seems for their audience? It reminds me of advice on PAs and foldback. Most important is to get the band feeling right, because then they will perform their best. So this approach, an intimacy for the orchestra, is maybe the right way to go. I must also praise the SSO programs. They are free to collect and informative. This one even has an annotated selected discography.

The program started with Richard Strauss’ Metamorphosen. I only realised after, but this is subtitled: for 23 solo strings. Presumably the players all have their own charts, so the normal sections are groups of individual instruments. I’d noticed solo lines from a violin, then another, then strangely, a unison line from two distant violinists. And the bassists were similar. There were three, but each played separately, perhaps in a pair and the program says only once together. Quite strange. But the tempo was steady, rich in long lines of quavers that moved in various ways. This didn’t feel like a work of virtuoso demands but the whole was deep and emotional and very satisfying.

Then the B9 after the interval. Those first loud lines of the first movement weren’t loud enough to my ears (or to Megan’s less damaged ears) but I expect they set my response to the performance as considered rather than ecstatic. It was magnificent none-the-less. How could it not be? The second movement was all thrills of the extended chase. It’s probably my favourite movement, except maybe for the fourth which is all of the above and more. How wonderful is this and how unneeded are these words? Just to say B9 v.2 was a great night.

Vladimir Ashkenazy (conductor) led the Sydney Symphony Orchestra and the Sydney Philharmonia Choirs in a performance of Beethoven’s Symphony no. 9 in D minor and Richard Strauss’ Metamorphosen for 23 solo strings at the Sydney Opera House. The singers were Lorina Gore (soprano), Sally-Anne Russell (mezzo-soprano), James Egglestone (tenor) and Michael Nagy (baritone).

Waves and spaces

The Concert Hall at the Sydney Opera House is a very big space and we were down the back and so the volume of the Sydney Symphony Orchestra playing Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony was feeble. I got used to it but earlier I noticed the loud passages were more like mfs to my (admittedly damaged) ears. I’d also listened to the symphony while driving to Sydney and was none too excited by it. Although I loved the orchestra, I remained underwhelmed by the music. It was described as the most energetic and most classical of Beethoven’s symphonies and whose “direct appeal lies in a single musical element: rhythm” (The voice of ecstasy : Edo conducts Beethoven [SSO program], 2011, p.8). I found the lines obvious and the rhythms nowhere near as interesting as a latin percussion section, but of course this is music of several hundred years ago and European classical music was never music of rhythm. I did like the second movement, but nothing unexpected there. It’s got a popular history and there’s a recognition factor (for example, it was used during the recent movie, The King’s Speech, during the feature speech, no less). Obviously others noticed that movement too, because there was a huge crescendo of chatter and shuffling after it finished, to the obvious frustration of conductor Edo de Waart. This was obviously not one with the otherwise formal approach (conductor is voiceless and disappears offstage between cheers). Despite these disappointments, the orchestra was a dream: sharp and clear and precise and together; not at all mechanical but very accurate. That I loved. The orchestra for the Beethoven was ~50 players (four bassists) and this just didn’t fill the space, but what we heard was wonderful. I picked up an SSO program for 2011 and I could see why: 100+ performances; ~50 staff; a Board of 12 and a Council of ~45; plenty of patrons/sponsors; large expenses and government funding; enough performances to require an index of soloists and composers. The professionalism certainly showed. This was beautifully performed music, even if I was somewhat nonplussed by the whole.

Samuel Barber’s famous and popular Adagio for Strings followed the interval. This is just that: strings. It’s a beautifully constructed, sparse melody that has popularity and recognition from films and funerals. I enjoyed it well enough, but was getting uncomfortable with shrill high strings by the end of the first part and was relieved when the basses entered for a more balanced sound. Then it ended. Seven minutes. Short, attractive and well received.

But in my eyes, the feature of the night was a fabulously delicate, minimalist but tonal modern work, Harmonium by John Adams. The orchestra for this was big, perhaps 100 players (8 basses) with a mixed choir of ~200. The piece started with the quietest of instrumental background that grew with immensely beautiful female voices in tonal and atonal harmony to a wave of sound that rolled over us. Then minimalist repetition and filigree-fine tones that moved within and without orchestra and interacted with voices of all pitches. So many tones and so delicately sounded: bells, harmonium, all manner of blown or bowed or plucked or percussed instruments. And wave after wave of sound that grew from the most discrete to swells that surged over the audience, tsunami-like, overwhelming, only to die away then resuscitate for another wave, all the while the mechanical beat of modern times less noticed but ever-present. I remember one bass-heavy passage with four double basses bowed and four other basses plucked and a voluminous tuba (?) singing sweetly above. The delicacy was like this throughout. A work of diaphanous tonal detail, swelling waves of sound and underlying mesmeric minimalism. I recognised this as a music that’s been taken on by big, heavily funded public events like Olympic opening ceremonies, but it hasn’t yet been usurped. This music is still powerful and speaking of modern concerns to modern ears. A wonderful and memorable experience.

As we left we got talking with an older, well-dressed, concert-going lady with a European accent. Her take was something like this: Beethoven is Beethoven, Barber was lovely, but there was a telling if reticent glee when she talked of the Adams. I felt very much in common company. The Sydney Symphony Orchestra and Sydney Philharmonia Choirs performed in the Concert Hall at the Sydney Opera House. They were conducted by Edo de Waart and performed Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony (Op.92, A major), Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings and John Adams’ Harmonium.