Saturday 17 November at 8:00pm (Event Duration: 2hrs)
The Arts Centre Melbourne, Hamer Hall
Tadaaki Otaka conductor
Garrick Ohlsson piano
Deborah Humble mezzo-soprano
José Carbó baritone
Melbourne Symphony Orchestra and Chorus
Johannes Brahms Piano Concerto No.1
Maurice Duruflé Requiem
The Requiem by French composer Maurice Duruflé is a work of delicate and moving beauty, and this performance features two of the most eloquent of Australia’s fine singers, to help draw you into the work’s lush, meditative world. The program begins with Brahms’ towering First Piano Concerto, in which orchestra and soloist unite to create one of the grand statements of the Romantic spirit.
The MSO provided free of charge a wonderful set of program notes covering several concerts: "MSO in Concert October-November 2012".
Rather than replicate what is written in the program notes, I have provided my own contemporaneous impressions of the performance.
Brhams: Piano Concerto No.1 in D minor, Op.15
1. Maestoso
The notes indicate that the Brahms Piano Concerto had a difficult gestation.It begins with a dramatic "sturm und drang" opening followed by an elegaic theme and a section of intense counterpoint within the orchestra. With the introduction of the piano the excitement builds, with the piano being gently accompanied by the orchestra. A section for solo piano starts off somewhat like a set of keyboard exercises. The following music for the flutes and woodwinds has a lilting pastoral quality and the strings are lush and romantic. Later a solo horn plaintively calls in the background in a duet with the piano. The theme of the virtuosic piano exercises continues, punctuated by the orchestra. The strings are the heart and soul of the first movement, with passionate interjections from the piano and gentle solos from the flutes, woodwinds and brass. The gentleman playing the drums was kept busy! A recurring leitmotif is tossed around by the piano and orchestra, and at one point there is a bit of an "Hungarian Dances" gypsy feel. The keyboard exercises recur with variations on a theme. Overall, this movement has the feel of a chamber music piece 'writ large'.
2. Adagio
The second movement starts gently with a calm and stately orchestral introduction and then the piano enters alone. A duet (not unlike a love song) between the orchestra and piano follows. The subsequent piano solo has a bit of a "cool jazz" feel to it. It is as if the piano is wondering, wandering ... The orchestra returns more emphatically and the duet continues, led at times by different orchestral voices. The listener is kept occupied with changes in harmonic direction, voices and volume. It is a movement that seems a little unsure of itself and where it is going. Eventually the piano rises triumphantly over the texture. The writing seems workmanlike rather than inspired. In a couple of places the orchestra was playing almost painfully 'pianissimo'. The piano was played here with expression, love and regard, and the movement finishes with a very romantic cadence.
3. Rondo (Allegro non troppo)
The final movement begins with passion and drive, and its core theme is tossed back and forth. It is as if the piano (a sleeping giant) has awoken, and the orchestra is playfully dancing around it. There are powerful statements by the brass. In contrast to the Adagio, this movement is tight, exciting and well-written. It heads off in a different direction in the centre of the movement, and there is a fugal interlude in the strings. The main theme returns, followed by somewhat of an orchestral "sunrise" playfully dancing amongst the orchestral parts. There is a distant brass "call to arms" (with a bit of a 'film score moment') and the movement builds to its conclusion.
Tadaaki Otaka is a joy to watch, and Garrick Ohlsson was most impressive, playing from memory. He is a large man, with impressively large hands, but he played with sensitivity, flair and obvious technical competence. After a rapturous reception, he was kind enough to return for an encore - Chopin's Waltz No.7 in C# minor, Op.64,2. This was played beautifully, with a lilting soft touch, class and sensitivity.
Duruflé: Requiem
There appeared to be 104 singers in the MSO Chorus, and unusually they were 'mixed up' on stage, rather than being grouped together in individual parts. I am not sure that this worked from the perspective of the spectacle, as it provided a more homogenised and diffuse sound and you could not "see" (aurally) the sound move from part to part, and at times it was difficult to work out exactly which part was singing without the visual cues. The tone of the women was reasonably pure but unmistakably warm and feminine.
At the start of the piece there was a lovely lush and warm tone in the strings. The Domine Jesu Christe had an 'edgy' quality, being populated by the lower orchestral and choral parts. There was a colourful use of brass, percussion and piccolo flute. The Hostias featured a baritone solo, woodwinds and scrubbing strings. The Sanctus had a nice feel and dynamics and an exciting climax at the Hosanna.
The Pie Jesu, featuring a mezzo-soprano solo, violas and cellos was warm and rapturously embracing, and the organ made an appearance.
This led to a "Where's Wally?" moment, as I rapidly processed that there no longer seemed to be a pipe organ in the concert hall and (shock, horror!!!) they were using an electronic organ on stage. Yes, we have a world-class concert hall but no pipe organ in it. What a tragedy! Many people would have known that the previous organ was both unsuitable and inadequate for a modern concert hall, but it seems amazingly short-sighted that the renovation of Hamer Hall did not include the installation of a world-class concert organ. Shame, Melbourne, shame!
The chant-like opening of the Agnus Dei was followed by a soaring romantic motif in the strings, and the male members of the chorus sang with a warm rich tone.
The Lux aeterna seemed like dappled sunlight on the garden. There was a lot of orchestral colour provided by the flutes and woodwinds.
In the Libera me we were confronted by growling brass and there was an exciting choral and orchestral climax with the baritone soloist.
The In paradisum finished the work gently with the harp, horns, women and strings.
The Chorus acquitted itself well, with good tuning, coordination, cut-offs and diction.
Sadly the soloists (baritone in the Domine Jesu Christe and Libera me and mezzo-soprano in the Pie Jesu) were somewhat 'drowned out' by the orchestra, and at the end of the Pie Jesu it was not possible to hear Deborah Humble at all - her lips were moving but ... However, she did cut a splendid figure sartorially, resplendent in a Grecian-style midnight blue satin robe.
The Duruflé Requiem is inevitably compared with that written by his fellow Frenchman, Gabriel Fauré. I have sung both, but must admit to a preference for the Fauré. The Duruflé seems too painfully understated and shy, as if it never breaks free of its own straight-jacket. It is interesting that Chorus Master Jonathan Grieves- Smith writes about this very conundrum and tension between its beauty and its timidity in his program notes.
The performance was very well received by the audience on all counts and the effort put into preparation by all concerned paid handsome dividends.
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