Diana Doherty (oboe)

W.A.Symphony Orchestra

Perth Concert Hall

reviewed by Neville Cohn

It seemed an odd choice for a series called The Great Classics. Written three years ago, Graham Koehne’s Inflight Entertainment – a concerto for oboe and orchestra – hardly qualifies for status as a classic in the sens of remaining relevant beyond its own era; it is barely out of its wrappings. And whether Inflight Entertainment is worthy of the adjective ‘great’, in the sense of being of more importance than others of its kind, is debatable.
In the sense of providing a pleasant diversion, however, Koehne’s concerto lives up to its name in that it is consistently entertaining.

Also beyond debate is Diana Doherty’s astonishing command of the oboe. There are not many musicians here – or anywhere else for that matter – who could rise so magnificently to the occasion as Doherty. She provided phenomenal and irrefutable evidence that she has tamed this most treacherous of wind instruments that does her bidding in a way that places her well to the forefront of masters of the oboe.

A ferociously taxing cadenza, during which Doherty performed the near-impossible by playing chords as opposed to single notes on the oboe, left one in little doubt that her physical command of the instrument places her in a category of excellence shared by Holliger and Indermuhle. Praise doesn’t get much higher than this.

At the conclusion of this marathon concerto (which would have left most other oboists out of puff long before the end of the work), Doherty, in response to rapturous applause, played as encore Blues for D.D., an unaccompanied piece by Jeffrey Agrell. Her performance here, as in the
concerto, was a tour de force.

Even if Koehne’s concerto doesn’t really meet the criteria for inclusion in the Great Classics series, it was certainly worth an airing. It would be an exaggeration to say that its melodies imprint themselves indelibly on the mind. Instead, they tend to riffle the circumference of the consciousness. Much of it is couched in gently stated, pastoral sequences, rather like slightly down-market Vaughan Williams – and would, I felt, have served admirably as background music for one or other TV series set in rolling English meadowland. And there’s much in the first movement that has an American big band a la Gershwin feel to it.

Making his Perth debut, conductor Federico Cortese demonstrated the skill and musicality that have won him golden opinions worldwide. Under his direction, the overture to Rossini’s The Siege of Corinth flashed into life. Cortese did wonders in securing from the first violins rapid, high-register passagework that was a model of its kind for clarity and tonal sheen. Throughout the overture (given its first performance by the WASO in 45 years), there was impeccable chording from the brass and woodwind choirs – and the care with which Cortese coaxed tonal light and shade from his forces yielded substantial listening dividends. And Rossini’s trademark extended crescendo in the overture’s closing moments brought the piece to an end with a bang.

Cortese’s conducting of excerpts from Berlioz’s Romeo and Juliet (not least in the opening pages where the WASO played as if their lives depended on it) left one with the impression that this was score close to the heart of the conductor. I specially admired Cortese’s treatment of the Love Scene, drawing orchestral responses in near-faultless taste from the WASO while maintaining a sense of onward momentum at slow speed, a very real feat of musicianship. Throughout, the WASO was very much on its collective toes; it did wodners, too, in the Queen Mab scherzo; it was model of fragile textures at high speed. Bravo!

Pei-Jee Ng (cello)

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Pei-Jee Ng (cello)

W.A.Symphony Orchestra
Federico Cortese, conductor

Perth Concert Hall

reviewed by Neville Cohn

Like some musical Julius Caesar, Syndey-born cellist Pei-Jee Ng came, played and conquered at the Concert Hall. If his account of Haydn’s Concerto in D is any pointer to the future, this lean and lanky teenager is on a fast track to the stars. Over many years attending concerts, I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve listened to this Haydn concerto. Ng’s interpretation places him well to the fore of those I’ve heard over the decades, not only for his remarkable physical command of the instrument (which is a major achievement in itself) but his ability to reveal the passionate demon that, for much of the work, lurks behind the printed note.

In performance, especially when his bowing arm is fully extended, Ng strikingly resembles the celebrated portrait by Augustus John of Madame Suggia, that greatest of Portuguese cellists of an earlier era. But there’s far more to Pei-Jee Ng’s presentation than an attitudinal likeness to Suggia. This was no casual reading of the notes. On the contrary, one felt, throughout, a total identification with the score.

pei

For much of the outer movements, Ng’s playing was the quintessence of ardour. From first note to last, this youthful musician drew the listener ineluctably into Haydn’s sound and mood world, drawing from his instrument the sort of tonal colouring that critics dream about but seldom encounter in reality. I was no less impressed by Ng’s ability to mine the score for every ounce of meaning but always within the bounds of taste and stylistic integrity. And his phrase-shaping was as natural and meaningful as the breathing of a great singer. Ferociously difficult cadenzas were essayed as if they had been written for him.

Federico Cortese took the WASO through an accompaniment fit for royalty – to which Ng responded with princely authority.

As curtain raiser we heard the Pulcinella Suite. It has always seemed to me a gross impertinence on the part of Stravinsky to set down his name on the score as if he, and no other, had been the author of the charming, often haunting, melodies and rhythms that make this such an appealing work. Nearly all the credit should go to the Pergolesi and some of his contemporaries from whose pens streamed the delights that Stravinsky stole – yes, stole (it is not too harsh a word for this) – and re-cast with trademark dissonances and some clever use of instrumental colouring. Surely, this absurdity, indeed dishonesty, should not be tolerated; Pergolesi’s name should be at least as prominent (more so, preferably) as Stravinsky’s on the score and in the program.. Cortese was impressively prepared for the work; under his guidance it flashed into delightful life. Robert Gladstones made an excellent contribution on horn – and oboist Joel Marangella was in exemplary form, too.

This was the WASO’s first performance of the work in 17 years. It deserves to be heard more frequently.

University Wind Orchestra Neil Coy (conductor)

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University Wind Orchestra

Neil Coy (conductor)

Conservatorium Auditorium

reviewed by Neville Cohn

Although Berlioz’s Grande Symphonie Funebre et Triomphale enjoyed huge success during the composer’s lifetime, it is very seldom encountered in concert halls these days. At least in part, this would be due to the demands of its instrumentation (which includes half a dozen trumpets, a small army of clarinets as well as a battery of percussion to keep five or six musicians very busy). So it was with more than usual interest that I listened to Berlioz’s epic played by an orchestra drawn from the student bodies of the Conservatorium of Music and the School of Music at the University of Western Australia.

In the lead-up to the most important work of the evening, we heard other music inspired by the fervour of nationalism, when revolt was in the air and more than a few heroes (and a number of scoundrels) rushed to man the barricades at various European centres.

There were three Revolutionary Marches by Smetana (originally for solo piano but here presented in orchestrations by Vaclav Nelhybel). Like a good deal of music written in a state of patriotic fervour, it’s strong on flourish but low on musical worth. (the genre exemplified at its worst in Shostakovich’s hideous and embarrassingly over-the-top Leningrad Symphony). Also on the bill was Wagner’s Trauersinfonie. Based on themes from Weber’s opera Euryanthe, it was written for a torchlight procession to the family crypt of the Webers where the composer was to be reburied in his native Germany after being exhumed from his English grave (he had died on a visit to London). Wagner delivered the grave-side eulogy.

Here, Neil Coy coaxed a most commendable response from his young charges, especially in relation to quality of tone and maintaining a sense of onward momentum at slow speed which represented a feat of fine musicianship.

Here – and throughout the evening – Coy did wonders in maintaining acceptable decibel levels in a venue notorious for its over-bright acoustic. It is all too easy in a hall such as this to lose control of this crucial factor – and it says much, then, for Coy’s handling of the score in a way that allowed the sheer drama of the writing to come across without causing irreversible damage to the audience’s eardrums.

An added frisson to the listening experience was the announcement that Bruce Thompson, the scheduled trombone soloist in the second movement of the Berlioz work, was not on the premises. In fact, he was far from the premises – he was at his more usual post at the Concert Hall until the WASO had completed its performance of Stravinsky’s Pulcinella Suite.

Would Robinson get to the Conservatorium Auditorium in time? Would the traffic lights be kind to him as he roared through the night on his motorcycle? In the event, the symphony got under way with only minimal delay. And, I’m happy to report that Thompson’s account of this tricky and demanding solo revealed little sense of stress as he breathed life and meaning into an instrumental line that had originally been written in a completely different context for voice (for Berlioz’s opera Les Francs-juges that he never got round to completing) and lifted holus bolus for the symphony.

It is nearly impossible to listen to this grandest of orchestral threnodies without picturing Berlioz conducting the work as orchestra, coffins of fallen patriots on the way to re-interment, soldiery and various political bigwigs marched slowly across Paris, with Berlioz walking all the way backwards. That must have been more challenging than rubbing one’s tummy at the same time as patting one’s head. Moreover, the route was so long that some of the movements were repeated no less than half a dozen times.

The Conservatorium performance, by contrast, was a much tamer affair with all the instrumentalists sedately seated. And conductor Neil Coy, despite occasional weakenings of concentration among his young players, did wonders in setting realistic tempi, maintaining a fluent sense of onward momentum and – most importantly – allowing the immense drama of the writing to register.

This fascinating program provided one of the year’s most engrossing listening experiences.

The Abduction from the Seraglio (Mozart)

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The Abduction from the Seraglio (Mozart)

W.A.Opera Company and Chorus
W.A.Symphony Orchestra
His Majesty’s Theatre

reviewed by Neville Cohn

A disconcerting and striking aspect of this co-production between Opera Australia and the W.A.Opera Company of Mozart’s Il Seraglio (which is set in an anonymous, modern-day country in the Middle East) is that the subservience of women in much of this part of the world right now seems little different to what it was in Mozart’s day more than two centuries ago.

As women shrouded by traditional robes (with, in this production, curious, helmet-like masks in lieu of veils) came onstage in Act 1 against a backdrop of a dusty, begrimed, neon-lit airport building, it was a case of plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose (the more things change, the more they stay the same).

But in this updated production of Mozart’s sparkling opera, there’s one woman who, in her refusal to be cowed or to accept secondary status, is feistiness personified. Soprano Rachel Durkin played the role of Blondchen as if it had been written to her. As a Britisher captured by Pasha Selim and almost unrecognisable as a Marilyn Monroe clone with blonde wig, hip-hugging pink pants and very high heels, she strutted about the stage as if it was her natural milieu.

In vocal terms, this young singer has come forward impressively. Her voice, with its agility, suppleness and projection, has improved noticeably, all auguring well for an operatic career of substance. And a gift for comedy, apparent in some of her earlier performances, was here hilariously evident. Certainly, she made the most of her lines in this most charming of singspielen.

Merlyn Quaife, that veteran of numberless opera productions, sang Constanza with a depth of expressiveness and grasp of style that had the touch of distinction. All kinds of martyrs, better known as Martern aller Arten, was informed by a mood of bold defiance; it was a ringing endorsement of Quaife’s musicianly skill. Elsewhere, there was an occasional lack of clear definition in high-speed passagework and some loss of power towards the lower end of the range.

In visual terms, Monte Jaffe made the most of the richly farcical role of Osmin who oversees the harem where Constanza and Blondchen have been unwillingly confined. Jaffe’s voice has a richly sonorous quality and he has a real feel for what works in comic terms but at times his diction lacked clarity, resulting in the loss of more than a few laughs. He was armed to the teeth, as were the gentlemen of the chorus, all wearing turbans, toting rifles and, with some exceptions, looking fierce and dangerous.

David Hamilton seemed positively to relish the role of Pedrillo, another of the Pasha’s captives and boyfriend of Blondchen. And David Hobson as Belmonte brought a nice touch of ardour to the role. James Sellis made of Selim Pasha (a non-singing role) a figure of considerable dignity and even compassion.

Apart from moments in the overture when upper strings sounded under pressure attempting to fit rapid semiquaver note groups into the overall rhythmic framework, a much reduced W.A. Symphony Orchestra responded alertly to Richard Mills’ direction in the pit. The woodwind choir was very much up to the mark but strings often sounded underpowered and could, to advantage, have been strengthened by a few more players.

Michael Gow’s directorial touch was everywhere apparent. There was much to please and intrigue the eye, not least Robert Kemp’s set designs. That for Act 1 was an inspiration, an airport arrivals hall that had about it a tatty, rundown look which had the ring of truth about it. So, too, did a chorus tableau of airline personnel including pilots, stewardesses in a uniform strikingly reminiscent of a real life Middle Eastern airline plying between the Gulf and Perth, and female passengers shrouded in black and carrying bulging bags of duty-free goods. Kemp’s Act II design – a spacious, palatial interior – was no less effective with its attention to fine detail. Also adding to a production that was consistently appealing in visual terms were Kemp’s costume designs and Nick Schlieper’s lighting that did much to enhance atmosphere.

Carl Orff Carmina Burana

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Cantillation

Sara Macliver, soprano
Jonathan Summers, baritone
Paul McMahon, tenor
Synergy Percussion
Australian Virtuosi
Sydney Children’s Choir
Antony Walker, conductor

CD: ABC Classics
472 481-2

reviewed by Anne Hodgson

The Australian Broadcasting Corporation should make more of the fact that this is one of the rare recordings of the non-orchestral version of this notorious work. The arrangement which Orff made for two choruses, three soloists, percussion and two pianos loses absolutely nothing of the work’s fundamental spirit and direct appeal to the listeners’ emotional responses. Despite the absence of the familiar orchestral colour, this performance is vibrant, exciting and completely fascinating. Although in terms of numbers the ensemble on this recording ranks far below the massed forces of the better-known orchestral version, it is so accomplished a presentation that there is no need to make comparisons.

The members of the vocal group Cantillation meet the very heavy demands of the score with great facility and technical expertise and are unfailingly strong in their central part, calling on a wide range of expression from the most delicate to the heartily robust, while the essential lighter vocal colour is provided by the excellently controlled Sydney Children’s Choir, although their involvement in the soprano’s dilemma of choice is perhaps a little clinical.

Tenor Paul McMahon is a beautifully pathetic cooked swan, singing in the falsetto range with remarkable ease and clarity, and soprano Sara Macliver shows both technical excellence and a definite sense of character, despite her comparatively brief part in the work. If one is looking for a memorable Abbot of Cockaigne, one need look no further than baritone Jonathon Summers, who performs his more extensive role with great artistry, skill and a very appealing element of personification.

The instrumental parts of this performance of Carmina Burana are provided by Australian Virtuosi, a two-piano duo, and the percussion ensemble Synergy Percussion. Between them these musicians fulfil the huge demands of this arrangement with outstanding artistic flair and brilliance.

Working with this particular combination of exceptional Australian talent must have been a
conductor’s dream for Antony Walker; his interpretation of the work and his control of the forces have produced what is probably one of the best ABC recorded performances of 2002.

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Diana Doherty (oboe)