ABC Classic FM reported the other day that the Australian city with the highest per capita attendance at classical music events is none other than that remote territorial outpost which many Australians have never visited, Darwin.  Then what a co-incidence when an article arrived in my in-box from Naomi – about classical music in Darwin.  It makes for delightful reading.

With two remarkably sweet grandkids in Darwin we go up there regularly and frequently.  I go for the family, of course, but have come to love the glorious sunsets, fish and chips on the beach, the relaxed, informal ambiance, the opportunity to escape Sydney’s cold weather (but then it is so hot, I am always happy to return).  I certainly do not go there expecting to hear any form of classical music.  So I was surprised when Michael, my son, greeted me with the news that on Saturday the Darwin Symphony Orchestra would be playing at the Convention Centre, in a program that included Shostakovich – one of my favourite composers.  John is not a Shostakovich fan and had the option of staying with the kids but even he could not resist the allure of Shostakovich in Darwin! 

And what a program! Borodin’s Polovtsian Dances, A piece called ‘Wolf Totem’ by Tan Dun of the film ‘Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon’ fame and after the interval another Borodin piece, ‘In the Steppes of Central Asia’ and to cap it all, Shostakovich’s ninth Symphony.  You could not wish for a more satisfying, coherent yet varied and balanced program.  My mind was racing with the images of galloping horses, marching armies, the ecstasies of victory, the agony of defeat.  Loud, boisterous, full orchestra outbursts, followed by sweet, soft flute melodies.  All this performed by an amateur, unpaid orchestra, conducted by its dynamic, Darwin-resident artistic director, Matthew Wood and performed in the elegant, acoustically pleasing Darwin Convention Centre. 

Was going to a concert in the Darwin Convention Centre different to going to the Sydney Opera House?  Yes, it was.  Getting there and parking was more relaxed.  I wondered whether people would show up in thongs and stubbies, the regular Darwin attire, but saw none.  The audience was as elegant and appreciative as it is here.  There were some quaint touches: one violist plays with my son in the ‘Anula Primary School Dads’ Band’; the piccolo player doubles up as my granddaughter’s piano teacher.  The resident tuba player was sick and replaced by Russell Torrance, my favourite ABC Classic FM presenter.  And the cello section leader was wearing shining, bright red stilettos.  And as if to complement her shoes, the black covered music was framed with matching red background.  They didn’t only sound great.  They looked great too.  A truly enjoyable, albeit unexpected, evening.

What a great rehearsal last night!

Somehow all the hard work put in over the past however many weeks came good.  The contrasting pieces all came together into a fabulous evening’s music making.  The Schubert sounded graceful; the Ramirez was lively and engaging, and the songs were great fun to sing with all the contrary rhythms competing with each other.

Some concerts come together gradually.  This one has struggled over the past few weeks so it was especially gratifying last night when everything seemed to suddenly come together as if by magic.

Of course we all know that if there is any magic, it comes from Carlos, ably assisted by Bethany.  Bethany has been a wonderful accompanist for us, and we owe her a huge “Thank you” for her support this session.  And we owe, as always, a huge “Thank you” to Carlos for sharing his consummate musicianship with us during rehearsals.  We are very privileged to have a musician of his calibre as our conductor.

And part of last night’s magic was having the orchestra and the instrumentalists, Los Incas, with us for the first time.  The Ramirez in particular sounded so good with their backing.

So we are well set for another great performance on Sunday.

I hesitate to say it, but it was all Anne’s fault.  I had set aside Tuesday evening to go through the Schubert and Ramirez, not to mention the South American songs, so as to be fully on top of them for last evening’s rehearsal.  Then Anne switched on ABC Classic FM.  It was impossible to do anything other than list to the sublime music which poured forth for two hours, non-stop and without an interval.  Hence a few slip-ups last night, such as forgetting to sing the bass entry at the end of Anitia’s first solo!

The music was the Monteverdi Vespers of 1610, performed by Pygmalion, a French ensemble of just 42 voices including soloists, recorded in the Royal Albert Hall in London as one of this year’s Proms.

It was stunning!  The music is sublime, full of movement and contrast.  One moment it is quietly devotional, the next moment it is loud and declamatory.  There are solo items and plainchant, single choir and double choir sections, rich polyphony and intricate counterpoint, all accompanied by an ensemble which can at times be merely supportive, and at times full of show-stopping bravado.

Anne had heard the trailer for the concert earlier in the day, in which the background of the music and the setting for the performance were described.  It sounded intriguing.  This was apparently a piece designed to show off all Monteverdi’s skills to potential patrons at a time when he wanted to move from a provincial town to a prestigious city where his true ambitions could be realised.  And the performance in the RAH was to use the huge oval space to best effect, with singers placed both on the stage and around the high-level gallery.  All with a modest size of choir and a conductor who is no more than 32 years old!

Well, as I said above, it was stunning.  The singing was superb – technically faultless and full of colour, light and shade.  And somehow it was apparent when a section was being sung from up in the gallery – don’t ask me how the BBC sound engineers managed to record it so, but they did.

Strange to relate, I then found a copy of the score in my bookcase, all marked up as though I had sung it myself.  I have no recollection of the event.  It must have been around thirty years ago when I sang with the Salisbury Music Society, but they have recently done away with their interesting and informative website and settled on a rather sparse Facebook presence; in doing so the archive of past performances has disappeared, so I am none the wiser.

How can I have possibly have sung such wonderful music and not have remembered it?  I am at a loss.  But all is not lost.  On Friday September 15th at 11am and at 7pm, it is to be performed by St Mary’s Cathedral Choir and the Song Company in St Mary’s Cathedral.

It could be well worth making the trip across the Harbour for such an event!

Click here for more information about the performances on September 15th.

Many thanks to Naomi for contributing this lovely description of her own Music Festival.

Music festivals are events for which one normally has to plan way ahead and travel a considerable distance to get to them.  But I had my own, private music festival earlier this month, which required only short forays out of my home and not much planning.

On the Friday at the Conservatorium of Music I attended the gala evening of the ‘Out of the Shadows’ event – a project aimed at discovering and performing the rarely heard music of composers who perished or survived the Holocaust.  The Con’s Verbugghen Hall was full to capacity and there was a buzz of excitement and awe but the event did not live up to expectation.  The music was good; indeed some probably deserves more exposure than it has received, but the organizers failed to seize on the opportunity to celebrate the occasion.  Scant program notes, no presence of relatives, no stories, no sense of a memorial.  We came, the musicians performed, we listened, we clapped, we went home.  Pity as the concept behind the event is so worthwhile. 

Then I spent almost the entire day on Sunday at Cremorne Orpheum for the New York Met’s production of Strauss’ ‘Der Rosencavalier’.  It was Renee Fleming’s and Elina Garanca’s farewell performance to their iconic roles in this opera and it was sheer magic.  Everything that opera should be – the design, the lighting, the costumes and above all the voices and the acting – perfection.  Even the story is engaging! 

And finally on the Monday at the City Recital Hall I heard Pieter Wiseplwey play the six Bach Cello Suites – an amazing experience.  I love that music but I have never heard the six performed together and wondered how I would last the distance.  But in fact after more than three hours, I was sorry Bach had not written ten cello concertos.  I was awed by the cellist’s stamina and his ability to have all that music in his head; no scores. 

And we find it too difficult to memorize a few bars when Carlos asks us to!

Have you ever been listening to one piece of music and found yourself thinking, “That sounds rather like something else , but I can’t quite place it?”  Usually it’s the melody which causes that pondering, or sometimes just the general sound.

For us basses in this current concert, there is an even weirder connection.  Three of the pieces start with essentially the same set of notes:
the Kyrie of the Schubert Mass,

the Kyrie of the Misa Criolla

and El Gavilan.

The notes, in tonic sol-fa notation, are basically doh, re, mi, fah, soh.   There is some sliding between notes in semi-tones, and one piece is in a minor key whereas the other two are in a major key, but essentially it is the same sequence.  Schubert and Ramirez leave the phrase hanging with the last note as soh: in El Gavilan the phrase finishes with a concluding return to doh.

What is it about this sequence?  It is like an announcement, “Sit up and take notice”, or a sort of subdued fanfare commanding attention before the real music starts.

Can anyone think of any other pieces of music which start in the same way?  If there are only these three in the repertoire, it is something of a co-incidence that we are singing all of them in one concert!