Diary March 2026

JEAN-YVES THIBAUDET

Melbourne Recital Centre

Elisabeth Murdoch Hall, Melbourne Recital Centre

Tuesday March 3 at 7:30 pm

A popular visitor, the French pianist Jean-Yves Thibaudet has appeared here as soloist and fronting concertos. Apart from his craft, he brings to the stage a peacock’s couture. Does it make a difference that parts of him glitter? Not really; if you’re offended by such quiet flamboyance, you can always look at the Murdoch Hall ceiling or ponder the ushers perched on the side walls. Tonight he is playing all the Debussy Preludes (written between 1909 and 1912) and his expertise is unquestionable; after all, he has recorded the two volumes twice – in 1996 and notably in 2023 with a cover design by Vivienne Westwood. You’d have to anticipate that Thibaudet is going to take his time over the 24 pieces, as the Recital Centre publicity refers to a length of one hour 50 minutes. Even if that includes a 20-minute interval, we’ll have a leisurely view of these atmospheric studies. But that seems to be his way; where younger players take about 75 or 77 minutes in their readings of both livres, this pianist’s earlier recording brings them in at 82 1/2 minutes. Still, he’s getting faster: his 2023 double LP performances come in at 81 1/2 minutes. Full adult tickets range from $79 to $139; concession holders can get a $20 deduction in the middling-quality seats, while Under 40s can get into the same sections for $49. As usual, you face the Recital Centre’s sliding transaction fee of between $4 and $8.50 – the organization’s peculiar form of book-keeping where no books are involved.

2026 SEASON OPENING GALA

Melbourne Symphony Orchestra

Hamer Hall, Arts Centre Melbourne

Thursday March 5 at 7:30 pm

Starting the year proper after those Myer Music Bowl shenanigans, the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra settles into staid mode under its chief conductor Jaime Martin. Tonight’s flavour is American, aiming for the popular jugular with the Star Wars: Suite for Orchestra by that Hollywood colossus, John Williams. It was published in 2000 when the composer was in the throes of coping with Lucas’ second trilogy and the melange of themes has become part of our consciousness. The evening’s guest is French pianist Jean-Yves Thibaudet who plays the solo role in Gershwin’s Concerto in F of 1925, which he recorded in 2010. Despite its creaking structural bones, especially in the final Allegro agitato, this score is appealingly brash and sentimental in turns with some energetic bravura passages for the soloist. To end, Martin directs Rachmaninov’s Symphonic Dances of 1940, the composer’s only work written completely in America. Always harking back to his past experiences, this three-movement construct is eventually a buoyant joy, showing the same high spirits as you hear in the Paganini Rhapsody. Tickets range from $81 to $139, with concession holders getting in for $5 cheaper. You also have a $7 transaction fee which always strikes me as particularly grasping when you consider the capacity of Hamer Hall. But you have to front up the cash to be sure of a seat as it’s bound to be a popular event.

This program will be repeated on Saturday March 7 at 7:30 pm.

MOZART’S SPRING

Australian Haydn Ensemble

Primrose Potter Salon, Melbourne Recital Centre

Wednesday March 11 at 7 pm

As far as I can tell, the Australian Haydn Ensemble is a string quartet comprising violins Skye McIntosh and Matthew Greco, viola Karina Schmitz and cello Daniel Yeadon. These members all appear to have their professional lives in Sydney and this recital will be their first collegial Melbourne appearance. Welcome, brothers and sisters, to town. What are you offering? Haydn? Oh, great. We’re to hear the Op. 33, No. 3 of 1781 nicknamed The Bird because of some acciaccaturas in the first violin part of the opening movement’s first bars. Nonetheless, it’s 19 to 20 minutes of sparkling C Major magic. Then Mendelssohn’s early E flat, written when he was a tyro teenager in 1823, two years before the superb Octet; it lasts for about 24/5 minutes. Finally, Mozart K 387 in G, nicknamed Spring although it was written in the Vienna December of 1782. The first of the ‘Haydn’ quartets, the work is a model of the composer’s genius at melodic curvature, and it comes in at a little under 30 minutes. All of which, even allowing for an interval, lies well below the specified two hours’ duration of this event. Perhaps we’ll have lots of talk; oh joy. Your tickets cost $60, $45 concession, or $55 if you’re a Senior which seems generationally odd. Also, you will cope with the Recital Centre’s graduated transaction fee – anywhere between $4 and $8.50 – if you book online. It might be worthwhile just showing up at the box office on the night.

ALSO SPRACH ZARATHUSTRA

Melbourne Symphony Orchestra

Hamer Hall, Arts Centre Melbourne

Thursday March 12 at 7:30 pm

Don’t know about you but I find the most energising part of Strauss’s long exercise of 1896 in musical philosophizing comes at the start when the orchestral tutti cuts out and you’re left with the full organ C Major chord. How they’ll achieve this effect in the organ-less Hamer Hall will be a delight to watch and hear. Even better will be the machinations to get a decent blast in Costa Hall. Anyway, it’s downhill all the way after that powerful opening as the composer tries to illustrate selections from Nietzsche’s rambling tome. Preceding this exercise, a less-swollen Melbourne Symphony Orchestra under chief conductor Jaime Martin escorts Maria Duenas through Beethoven’s Violin Concerto of 1806. A young Spanish musician, Duenas has recorded the work and may be playing her own cadenzas to the second and third movements. At the night’s start, for an overture we hear a 2020 work by Australian writer Melody Eotvos: her The Deciding Machine of 2020 which serves several purposes. It’s a memorial to the centenary of women’s suffrage, a celebration of the 250th anniversary of Beethoven’s birth, and holds a titular reference to Ada Lovelace who wrote the first computer algorithm for Babbage’s projected ‘analytical engine’. Your standard tickets range from $51 to $142, with concession holders relishing a $5 discount. Children are charged $20 and you have to pay $7 if you book online or by phone. About this last, I wonder what would happen if you questioned exactly where this fee goes; e.g., which employee is paid for handling your credit card details, especially if you’re a regular client.

This program will be repeated in Costa Hall, Geelong on Friday March 13 at 7:30 pm and again in Hamer Hall on Saturday March 14 at 2 pm.

SHANGHAI SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA

Melbourne Symphony Orchestra

Hamer Hall, Arts Centre Melbourne

Friday March 13 at 7:30 pm

In a welcome display of camaraderie, the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra is presenting a large group of visitors in the form of the Shanghai Symphony Orchestra, conducted by music director Long Yu who has held this position for 17 years. Half their one-night stand is Chinese music, while the second part is a warhorse very familiar to Melbourne audiences: Rachmaninov’s Symphony No. 2 of 1907 – a big sprawling series of four canvases packed full of Romantic surges and emotional richness. Before that, we hear some selections from the ten-movement Chinese Kitchen: A Feast of Flavours, written in 2024 to a Shanghai Symphony Orchestra commission from 30-year-old composer Elliot Leung who has enjoyed remarkable success in China and the United States, bridging the Trump/Xi divide with aplomb. As for a soloist, the orchestra hosts pianist Serena Wang, a San Francisco-born 21-year-old talent who fronts the 2009 Er Huang Concerto by Qigang Chen, Messiaen’s last pupil. The title refers to a type of Beijing opera, Chen employing tunes from that art-form in a lavish orchestral palette. To hear these guests, you’ll pay between $81 and $139, concession holders enjoying a munificent $5 reduction; children get in for $20, but everyone faces the $7 transaction fee – a shameful example of grift generated by our dependence on credit cards and online booking.

THE DEVIL’S VIOLIN

Australian Chamber Orchestra

Elisabeth Murdoch Hall, Melbourne Recital Centre at 7:30 pm

Saturday March 14 at 7:30 pm

Back for the third time, violinist Ilya Gringolts takes the Australian Chamber Orchestra through a program that oscillates between the old and the new with an even hand. Clearly, the entertainment’s core is intended to be Tartini’s Devil’s Trill Violin Sonata in G minor which the composer said he wrote in 1713, even if those in the know claim it came from about thirty years later; what a dreamer. Scoring with two concertos is Vivaldi: first, with the RV 237 in D minor, possibly written in 1617 and notable for a sprightly third movement; and the C Major RV 507 for two violins that Gringolts gets to play with ACO principal Satu Vanska in a demonstration of canonic interplay and endless chains of thirds. Fleshing out the Baroque content will be Geminiani’s Concerto Grosso No 12, La Follia, which is an arrangement of a Corelli original and which keeps to the well-known theme throughout. Starting the program is Johann Paul von Westhoff’s Imitation of the Bells from his Sonata No. 3 in D minor, published in 1694 and consisting of 41 bars loaded with solo violin exercises intended to simulate a carillon. Moving to more recent times, Gringolts leads a string orchestra version of Gubaidulina’s brief String Quartet No 2 of 1987 which screams individuality from every bar, so having the ACO players handle it three or four to a line will be more than intriguing. Mieczyslaw Weinberg represents another facet of Soviet composition and we hear his 1942 Aria for string quartet, presumably organized for the ACO forces. As well, Paul Stanhope received an ACO commission for Giving Ground, written in 2020 and based on the La Follia chord progression, so that you have a traditional and a (pretty) contemporary look at this famous sequence. As usual with a hall the size of Hamer, prices range wildly and widely. You can start at $30 for a student and pay top adult for $148. The handling fee is $8.50, which is a tall order for your student struggler; probably why you don’t see many of them at these Sunday afternoon events.

This program will be repeated on Sunday March 15 at 2:30 in Hamer Hall, Arts Centre Melbourne, and on Monday March 16 in the Elisabeth Murdoch Hall at 7:30 pm.

TOUR DE FORCE #1

Corpus Medicorum & the Royal Melbourne Hospital Foundation

Elisabeth Murdoch Hall, Melbourne Recital Centre

Sunday March 15 at 5 pm

This bod of medical personnel trying their hands at taxing serious music here takes on two cornerstones of the Russian repertoire under regular conductor Fabian Russell. The Corpus Medicorum showed more than competence the last time I heard them, but that was some decades ago and you might reasonably expect that their achievement level would have risen. In any event, their cause is a noble one: raising funds towards the treatment of lung cancer patients at the Royal Melbourne Hospital. To this end, the organizers have gained the services of Alexander Gavrylyuk to take the main role in Rachmaninov’s Piano Concerto No. 3 in D minor, written in 1909 and forever linked in Australian minds, for better or worse, with the names of David Helfgott/Geoffrey Rush/Shine. Partnered with this redoubtable work is Prokofiev’s most famous symphony, No 5 in B flat Major of 1944. As a Soviet-era score, this stands at the top of the pile through its inventiveness, integration and striking individuality. And it has been the subject of many recordings by eminent conductors, so you can easily familiarise yourself for comparative purposes with a score that was once as regularly heard as Shostakovich’s No. 5. Tickets for a full adult cost $70, concession holders enjoy a whopping reduction to $40, and students pay $30. But then you have the $4-to-$8.50 fee imposed by the Recital Centre if you book online or by phone. I’d be tempted to show up on the day; at the time of writing (February 28), there are about 450 seats available across the Murdoch Hall.

STRAVINSKY & CHINDAMO

Melbourne Symphony Orchestra

Hamer Hall, Arts Centre Melbourne

Thursday March 19 at 7:30 pm

Happy company, then, for our own jazz master Joe Chindamo. The Melbourne Symphony Orchestra under principal guest conductor Benjamin Northey begins its work tonight with Ravel’s Pavane pour une infante defunte, from the year 1899 when the composer was studying with Faure. This exercise in introspective retrospection lasts a little less than 7 minutes. Stravinsky is represented by his epoch-making The Rite of Spring ballet that shocked the public – well, the Western part of it – at its premiere on March 29, 1913. Mind you, it wasn’t long before the world had a lot more on its mind than the not-quite-emigre Russian composer’s full-scale innovations. This lasts about 35 minutes. Which leaves a lot of space for Chindamo – the MSO’s composer in residence this year – to fill with his commission piece Are there any questions? which will involve the services of mezzo-soprano Jessica Aszodi and the MSO Chorus. I don’t have much information about this new composition, except that it takes its title from Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale novel, and it is a requiem. I’ve seen and heard Chindamo play only a few times over the years, even more rarely as a composer but his handling of large-scale forces will be a significant demonstration of his participation, from about 15 years ago, in serious music enterprises. Full adult tickets fall between $75 and $139, concessions are a ludicrous $5 cheaper, and children’s seats are priced at $20. You will add $7 an order if you try to book online or by phone. The alternative? Just come on the night, cash in hand.

This program will be repeated on Saturday March 21 at 7:30 pm.

THE POETRY OF PIANO DUO

Hoang Pham Productions

Elisabeth Murdoch Hall, Melbourne Recital Centre

Saturday March 21 at 2:30 pm

Two doctoral graduates from the Manhattan School of Music, Allie Xinyu Wang and Daniel Le are combining their talents to present a 75-minute tour of some significant contributions to the duo piano repertoire. The musicians begin with some scraps from Ravel’s Mother Goose Suite of 1908, which most of us know better in an orchestrated form that came three years later. Then follows one of the repertoire’s masterpieces in Brahms’ Variations on a Theme by Haydn which came out in 1873 in two scores: piano duo and orchestra. Just like the Ravel, we know the orchestral version much better than the smaller-scale piece; a shame, as the latter is a joy to play and less orotund to the ear. Staying with the strength, Wang and Le give us Rachmaninov’s early Suite No. 1 from 1893, the composer being 20 at the time he wrote these four reactions to poems and which he dedicated to Tchaikovsky. We jump forward to Lutoslawski’s 1941 Variations on a Theme by Paganini which treats the Caprice No. 24 with respect (until the end) and an acerbic harmonic vocabulary. Finally, the musicians leap across the Atlantic for part of William Bolcom‘s The Garden of Eden: four ragtime stages in the Fall, originally written for solo piano in 1969, then transmuted for two pianos in 1994 (half of them) and 2006 (the other half). The extract we’re to hear is The Serpent’s Kiss which takes on fantasia qualities throughout its D minor length and is the longest in the set. Standard tickets are $62, concession $50, student $38 – this last, a strange number but nowhere near as odd as the Recital Centre’s universally applied fee of between $4 and $8.50 for labouring intensively over your credit charge use if you book online or phone.

CHOPIN PIANO RECITAL

Hoang Pham Productions

Elisabeth Murdoch Hall, Melbourne Recital Centre

Saturday March 21 at 6 pm

Acting as both producer and artist, pianist Hoang Pham plays a 75-minute program of various pieces from the extraordinary larder that is Chopin’s contribution to piano music. He begins with the C-sharp minor Fantaisie-Impromptu, that favourite from 1834 that sets three against four (or six against eight) in a satisfying musical mesh. We then move to the Ballade No 1 in G minor of 1835, which is another very popular recitalist’s choice for its coruscating virtuosity and overt drama. The Two Nocturnes Op. 27 give any listener a welcome experience in tonal subtleties, the first in C sharp minor and the second in D flat Major, this latter showing the composer in 1836 already at his refined best with some astonishingly delicate fioriture. Pham then takes on the Ballade No. 4 in F minor, written in 1842 and a remarkably difficult piece to bring off, even for experts in this composer. The Two Waltzes Op. 64 of 1847 follow: another pairing of D flat Major (the so-called Minute Waltz) and that well-known C-sharp minor one used in Les Sylphides. Taking on another form that the composer made his own, the pianist offers us the Three Mazurkas Op. 63 of 1846, of which the last in C sharp minor may ring some bells. To end, Pham breaks over us with the Polonaise No. 6 in A flat: one of the most recognizable works by the composer and a test for every pianist with a battery of difficulties, including that energising Trio with its octave semiquaver bass-line. A standard ticket to this recital costs $68, with concession holders enjoying a measly and fiscally inexplicable reduction to $61.20 while students pay $34. Everyone who books online or by phone will also have to stump up the Centre’s $4-to-$8.50 ‘Transaction Fee’, in which extraction art is meant to make friends of the mammon of iniquity.

ART OF THE SCORE: JAMES HORNER

Melbourne Symphony Orchestra

Hamer Hall, Arts Centre Melbourne

Friday March 27 at 7:30 pm

Yet again, the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra is hitting the film score theme, although this time the players will not be providing the soundtrack to a full movie. The aim is to celebrate the career of American writer James Horner who died over ten years ago in a plane crash. Across his career, this composer wrote music for a large number of films, some of which even I know: Aliens (1986), Apollo 13 (1995), Braveheart (1995), Jumanji (1995), Titanic (1997), The Perfect Storm (2000), Troy (2004), and Avatar (2009). Nicholas Buc will be conducting suites and individual excerpts from Horner’s oeuvre stretching (according to MSO publicity) definitely to Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982), The Rocketeer (1991) ‘and many more’, some of which have been mentioned in my list of familiarities. I’m assuming that these extracts won’t be accompanying specific scenes from the various films; if that’s the case, it undermines the whole purpose of the music itself which only lives in the power of its suggestiveness. All credit to Horner but I can’t think of a single theme from any of the films I’ve seen for which he wrote the soundtrack – except that Titanic number. Taking fans through the program, two presenters/hosts will negotiate the narrative path: Andrew Pogson, the MSO’s Special Projects Manager, and Dr. Dan Golding, Professor of Media at Monash University. Obviously, my lack of recall/filmic insight means nothing because there are plenty of people for whom the Horner music must be memorable; the MSO has scheduled three concerts in a row to celebrate his music. Mind you, the balcony in Hamer Hall is unavailable for these concerts; further, at the time of writing (February 28), plenty of seats are available. Standard price comes in anywhere between $93 and $150; concession holders pay a whole $5 less, if they can be bothered; everyone faces the objectionable $7 transaction fee if booking online or by phone. As I say, it’s a month away but nobody seems to be rushing to get in.

This program will be repeated on Saturday March 28 at 7:30 pm and on Sunday March 29 at 2 pm.

SOUVENIRS: BRAHMS AND TCHAIKOVSKY STRING SEXTETS

Melbourne Symphony Orchestra

Iwaki Auditorium, Southgate

Sunday March 29 at 11 am

A day after presenting this program at the Castlemaine Town Hall, musicians from the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra come back to town with the rarely-heard Brahms Sextet No.1 of 1860, and the much more well-known Tchaikovsky Souvenir de Florence Sextet, written in 1890 after several years of difficult gestation and followed by an uneasy revision/afterbirth. Even so, the Russian composer’s nervous energy makes his work an illuminating pleasure: an excellent coupling of sophistication and (in the later two movements) simplicity. The Brahms is another matter, soaking in warmth right from the broad opening cello statement to the same instrument’s tenor clef melody of the concluding Rondo‘s initial bars. Coupling these scores was a happy inspiration for someone (Michelle Wood, it would seem from the advertising bumf) in the MSO and these players will have just as large a chance of success as anybody, permanent string sextet combinations being few in number. They are violins Kathryn Taylor and Emily Beauchamp, violas Katharine Brockman and Aidan Filshie, cellos Wood and Anna Pokorny. Part of the organization’s long-lasting Chamber series, tickets cost $55, concession holders still only getting an insulting $5 reduction. And you have to engage with the booking platform to find out that the orchestra will apply its customary $7 transaction fee at this recital; probably unavoidable because these events are highly popular – which makes this example of fiscal greed all the more contemptible.

New voices not modern

STARBURST

Omega Ensemble

Elisabeth Murdoch Hall, Melbourne Recital Centre

Wednesday February 18, 2026

David Rowden

Back for another year of Melbourne endeavours, the Omega Ensemble, a Sydney-based contemporary music group, opened its 2026 account with a 90-minute-long program that began with an American work and ended in an Australian composition. Neither of these spoke a convincingly modern language but both found favour with this audience which reacted positively after each. In the middle came two concertos: Gerald Finzi’s Concerto for Clarinet and Strings of 1949, which has clearly been on the musicians’ minds since the visit last year of Michael Collins, a noted exponent of this work, here fronted by Omega artistic director/founder David Rowden; and the 1933 Piano Concerto No. 1 for Piano, Trumpet and String Orchestra by Shostakovich which featured Omega stalwart Vatche Jambazian taking on the keyboard role while the Sydney Symphony Orchestra’s principal David Elton negotiated the brass line.

As a preliminary foray, a string nonet – which constituted the Ensemble for this evening – played the concert’s title work by Jessie Montgomery which has proved one of the composer’s more popular works, I’d suggest, because of its sunny, festive nature. Written in 2012, the composer specifies a minimum requirement of 3/3/3/2/1 for participant numbers; in this case, she got two cellos and a double bass, but had to be content with two each of the upper strings.

Listening to or watching recordings of this work gives you some insight into contemporary music playing in the US as compared to the UK and here. While the American orchestras approach this score with caution, a body like the Philharmonia gives it a vigour and elegance of execution that elevates the music above a kind of plodding insistence. Just so with the Omega group which gave a vital and involving execution of a work that is strong on ostinati and semiquaver runs while short on rhythmic or harmonic innovation.

Add a significant virtue in that the work lasts just long enough and the conductor-less performers made Starburst into an initial burst of energy which was carried on to the Finzi concerto. Just as well that Rowden pitched his dynamic to the accompaniment because the composer has most of his forces playing divisi at some point, particularly the cellos in the first Allegro and, with the best will in the world, one player per line is stretching your volume requirements a long way. This lack of depth also meant the movement’s big moments, like the peroration up to the clarinet’s entry at Number 1 in the Boosey & Hawkes score, the triple forte outburst seven bars before Number 5, those insistent Gs from everybody before the cadenza, and the last eight powerful maestoso bars, came over as light imitations of the real thing.

A similar difficulty infected the following Adagio which was impossible to linger over, senza rigore, because of a lack of full-body timbre. You couldn’t say that Rowden rushed through it but the ritardando and ritenuto moments, apart from that before the clarinet’s first entry ad lib., were hardly spacious enough for this eloquent, elongated lyric. Still, the combined forces rose to the occasion of the movement’s powerful highpoint at Number 5 where the main theme is given in an unexpectedly vehement voice. As well, you would be hard of heart not to be moved by the last pages of this section, Rowden’s progress to the last F finely balanced.

Finzi’s finale, a folk-tune reminiscent allegro, passed without making much impact, apart from its melodic fluency and the soloist’s flexibility of articulation. It strikes me as a stop-start series of pages where striding certainty peters out regularly for ‘busy’ work, interrupted by a hard-to-ignore flavour of the Introduction and Allegro in the strings’ ritornello before Number 8. At the end, you’ve have to say this was a worthy outing for the score but one deficient in gravity and variety of timbre, particularly as the string body is responsible for the carrying-forward of the score; more so than the soloist, I’d suggest.

For the Shostakovich, Jambazian played the keyboard with his back to us and without a lid on his instrument. What followed was inevitable: his sound flew up to the Murdoch Hall ceiling and the biting attack of the composer’s pianistic brilliance was dissipated. Mind you, with such small string forces, that had its compensations but it gave Elton’s trumpet an unusual prominence. As with the Finzi work, this one also suffered from insufficient strings; not in the soloists-absent (for a short while) stretches, like the Allegretto in Movement 1, but when piano and strings are operating imitation around Numbers 21 and 22 (also in a Boosey & Hawkes edition) – you could see the gestures but the output sounded faint.

Even with the muted piano, you could hear that Jambazian was in control of this score; quite obviously in the Lento with its outer casing of a mournful slow waltz holding some highly dramatic pages. Elton’s treatment of the solo starting at Number 34 in tandem with Jambazian generated an impressive elegiac moment or two, if muted in timbre and nature. But it’s a startlingly fraught segment in a concerto where the emphasis is emphatically on hectic jollity.

Again, the Moderato interlude gave Jambazian the opportunity to be heard clearly in the solo that opens these pages; welcome after previous showings, the whole not helped by some hefty employment of the sustaining pedal. Our string nonet gave a forceful account of the lament that breaks from them, mutes off, a bar after Number 45, bringing another tragic undercurrent to this chameleonic score.

Which reaches its apex in the breakneck finale and found both soloists in fine fettle. Jambazian’s solo contributions at the upper level of his instrument travelled well enough but the two solos sounded muddled, especially that starting in F minor at Number 76 which sounds like a Hungarian Dance gone wrong. It’s hard to misfire with the ongoing exhilaration that fills these pages and, while the strings were often completely subsumed by the pianist’s ferocity, they were at least able to make their points during the intervening commentaries – and supporting Elton who maintained a cogent and expressive line to the insistent final bars.

Last came a new concerto written for Rowden and Elton, commissioned by the Omega Ensemble: A Turning Sky. The composer is Lachlan Skipworth from Western Australia who has here favoured the traditional three-movement format; as well, he employs an unadventurous rhythmic foundation and a harmonic scheme that delights the ears of the groundlings but does little for any soul in search of a 21st century language.

You’re left in no doubt that Skipworth has a facility for well-constructed melody and he negotiated flamboyant roles for both his soloists, although Elton enjoyed more of the limelight, especially in concerted passages for both soloists. But I’m afraid this style of writing makes me impatient with its hankering for the past and by its following a path that has been travelled by too many other feet. I’ve said something similar before – frequently – but I don’t think you can ignore the entire progress of 20th century music and pretend that Stravinsky, Bartok, Schoenberg, Boulez, Stockhausen, Ligeti and a collection of American and British masters never existed.

We’ve come too far in the development of advanced vocabularies to turn back the clock and find inspiration in the tropes of popular music. There are excuses trotted out regularly for the pursuit of beauty through diatonicism once more, that we need old-fashioned tunes, that there is still much good music to be written in C Major. Well, for this last, perhaps there is but it will require a brilliant talent to accomplish it. In faith and hope and love, I’m still waiting.

The answer is: don’t look

A WINTER’S JOURNEY

Musica Viva Australia

Elisabeth Murdoch Hall, Melbourne Recital Centre

Monday February 16, 2026

Allan Clayton

Here we are again with an updated Winterreise. British tenor Allan Clayton is collaborating with pianist Kate Golla on a Musica Viva Australia tour of Schubert’s song-cycle that started in Perth and moves to Brisbane, Sydney, Canberra and Adelaide over the coming fortnight after its two-night stint here. This version has been semi-staged by director Lindy Hume, with a background of Fred Williams’ paintings/drawings screened on a large pair of walls by David Bergman‘s video design, the whole lit by Matthew Marshall.

All right: that takes care of the credits. As for the experience itself, you were left with no little admiration for the singer’s embrace of the required theatrical action and the manner in which he tailored his output to the 24 situations that Schubert’s manic wanderer enjoys/endures. You could find little fault with Golla’s realization of the accompaniments, although that term is something of a diminution of the pianist’s responsibilities in this score.

With the Williams’ art, I’m not really convinced by the stated aim of finding common ground between three geniuses – poet, composer, painter. Not that the background distracted from the cycle’s progress; indeed, Williams’ work presented as a sober complement to some of the songs, even if there was one unexpectedly vehement painting exemplifying the later Romantic musical direction of sturmisch bewegt that I couldn’t trace in the supplied list of the artist’s works employed on this occasion. But while you could accept the Kosciusko depictions from the mid-1970s as mildly credible support for Gute nacht, the later landscape dots of vegetation looked centuries remote from anything in Muller’s poems.

Hume made an excellent start and ending to this enterprise, having Clayton isolated on left-stage, from which he moved into the central raised section holding Golla’s piano and the two walls around her, V-shaped towards the audience, with the Williams images imposed on them. This was the position he eventually re-occupied when left alone (so to speak) with the Leiermann at this work’s bitter end. In between, he raced around the raised platform, coming to rest and curling up about the Auf dem Flusse point, then finding another resting place somewhere near Der Wegweiser.

Fortunately, Clayton steered clear of too much pantomime, although he did use his long-coat, I seem to recall, to mimic Die Krahe. But you were spared the full mimesis for lieder that could – and have – been physically illustrated by the singer. I still have memories, fortunately fading, of Simon Keenlyside presenting a choreographed reading of this cycle in the State Theatre at the Melbourne International Arts Festival of 2004; on that occasion, too many textual cues were seized upon to ram the verbal messages down our communal throat.

My reaction was not shared by a gaggle of fellow critics who found inexplicable merit in this exhibition and bestowed that Winterreise with a critics’ award on odd grounds that had nothing to do with Schubert, and little connection to Muller although one of the plaudits came from an accompanying husband who found the singer’s German to be ‘very good’. Recalling this whole situation still leaves me thinking: Was it for this the clay grew tall?

Another reading of this cycle that proved more pleasing, although generating no little confusion in some of the songs, came from soprano Louisa Hunter-Bradley and pianist Brian Chapman who recorded this work on the Move label in 2006. Having the work’s central character change gender requires a good deal of interpretative latitude on the listener’s part but at least the score was given straight, without deviations from a normal recital format . . . insofar as you can have such a thing on CD.

Isn’t that enough, though? Why is it necessary to dress up a work which was intended to communicate directly with the listener, without any distractions? One of the reasons given for providing supporting illustrative matter is that audiences don’t understand the words; not everyone is familiar with the texts, let alone with German. Yes, but surely that deficiency can be covered by surtitles? They were employed on this night; even if we didn’t get a full translation of each line, sufficient was provided to communicate the songs’ emotional gist.

What you can do is, of course, close your eyes, as I did for a good deal of the time. Many of us have an admiration for Williams’ work, egged on by the 1980 hagiography produced by Patrick McCaughey which brought the artist into the mainstream, sponsored by the country’s most well-known art curator/academic/historian. But even this measure had its problems as, if you looked at the stage between songs, some striking scenes were on show, some of them with little input as to what we’d just heard.

In the end, Clayton and Golla enjoyed a rapturous reception which they deserved despite the visual salad behind them. The pianist demonstrated a fine responsiveness to Schubert’s piano writing, my only query a soft right-hand output during Mut, e.g. the piano’s muffled commentary in bars 9-10 coming straight after Clayton’s clear account of the melodic contour. But then you encountered Golla’s intensely moving account of the following Die Nebensonnen, with a lucid reading of that song’s bass-heavy accompaniment.

And you could find similar examples of subtlety across the work’s spread, Clayton’s dynamic palette a continuing source of delight in lesser-known pieces like Letzte Hoffnung as well as the all-too-familiar extracts like Der Lindenbaum. In fact, the hallmark of this interpretation came through its attention to shadings from both musicians, Golla establishing a scene with admirable directness and following Clayton’s line with excellent fidelity. Next time, we could do without the visual input, OK?

Soloist sparkles in brittle fabric

RACHMANINOV’S RHAPSODY

Australian Chamber Orchestra

Hamer Hall, Arts Centre Melbourne

Sunday February 8, 2026

Dejan Lazic

Beginning the year with a rather short program, the Australian Chamber Orchestra visited Melbourne for its regular three appearances across as many days, of which this Sunday concert was the middle. Richard Tognetti led his regular 17 musicians (with the addition of percussionist Brian Nixon for the last number) through four works, one of them a new ACO commission enjoying its premiere: John Luther AdamsHorizon, which deals with two levels of perception and attempts to contrast the aspect we see from our current positions and that which is visible in open spaces like the desert or the sea.

What Adams gives us is a music-picture of these dual horizons. My problem is that I can’t tell the difference because, after one hearing, my sense is that the enclosed horizon is not depicted in the score which begins and ends in the same fashion: low didj-like drones from the bass strings, everybody else entering independently and making their own contributions to the sonorous melange of layers and twittering that comprise the work’s forward motion.

Several performers seem to stand alone to a certain extent throughout the performance, although two cellists and Maxime Bibeau‘s double-bass sat/stood together at the rear of the stage. In front of it all, Tognetti led a string quartet that could have been serving as a fulcrum body; if so, its function proved ultra-discreet because the members appeared to have the same freedom of delivery as everybody else in the ACO group. Which was probably not as great as I’m suggesting because the surges of crescendo and ebbings of decrescendo sounded well-organized across the score’s length.

You’d be hard pressed to find much more meat in Horizon than its shifting colours, the general texture changing all the time but not markedly. Lines become prominent for a moment, then recede into the over-arching texture – a kind of glimmering sheen, like visible heat-waves off the Outback’s sand surface or a mobile sea mist. You find yourself being wrapped in a sonorous cocoon, without events interfering to break you out of a pleasant torpor, least of all when players start dropping out of the mesh, replaying Haydn’s Farewell practice, if not actually leaving the stage.

And what dropped into this luminous silence? A phone going off, in the middle stalls on the right-hand side of the hall. Yet another inconsiderate swine demeaning a carefully prepared and staged moment. Only in Melbourne? Only in an elderly audience? If only. Still, the work had achieved its effect of depicting something close to an austere monumentality, putting Adams in a chain of US writers starting with the can-hardly-stand-still Ives, alongside Ruggles, Harris and Hovhaness – all, to some extent, concerned with nature, the environment, and unanswerable questions.

A complete change in pace arrived with Stravinsky’s Concerto in D ‘Basle’ of 1946; one of only two works I’m aware of for string orchestra by the composer (along with the ballet Apollo from 1927). Is this the first time the ACO has played this piece? The composer doesn’t loom large in the ensemble’s discography; in fact, I can’t find him at all, even if this type of whip-smart writing is ideally suited to these players.

That’s what they gave us: a reading that showed precise, clear-cut and impressive for its ensemble, requiring minimal direction from Tognetti in its opening slightly febrile Vivace which begins with a clash between Major and minor mediants and maintains its bitonal flavour all the way through its neo-classical byways. An admirable smoothness emerged in the following Arioso with its melodic leaps of 9ths and studied courtliness, while the concluding Rondo, in an unchanging 4/4, enjoyed a brilliant outlining delivered with the inimitable ACO panache.

This Stravinsky is a music that suits this ensemble and you’d have to look far and wide to find anything approaching the interpretation given here. It probably helps that much of the score is clever-clever, even the central movement studied in its sentiment. But the outer segments illustrated the poise and uniformity of control and output that the ACO produces on its best days, right down to the final, almost-tonal, nearly uniform D Major double- and triple-stop chord.

After a long interval, we moved on to the program’s second novelty, here enjoying its Australian premiere. Lithuanian writer Raminta Serksnyte wrote her De profundis in 1998 as a Bachelor’s degree graduation piece, scored for a string chamber orchestra, slightly larger than the ACO forces performing it this afternoon. Gidon Kremer made an extravagant claim for this work – ‘the calling card of Baltic music’ – but I found it only moderately interesting. Serksnyte begins with a wealth of activity in a rapid-fire light barrage of sounds, after which we come to what might be considered as a real plaint, justifying the title.

But the composer is not interested in the religious or liturgical suggestions of Psalm 130; rather, she sees it as a kind of hook on which to hang her tableau of a young soul migrating to experience, discovering life’s realism after youth’s exuberance. I suppose ‘Growing up’ doesn’t carry the same suggestion of elevated concepts as a Latin tag. In any case, the language changes back to the original Allegro/vivace flurries and chitterings, which reversion suggests a circularity of experience if not informed by subtle depths. Its impact speaks to a lively mind at work, but is this really the best of Baltic?

At last, we came to the program’s title work: the Russian pianist/composer’s brilliant 1934 set of excursions based on Paganini’s Caprice No. 24. For prime interpreter, we heard an ACO friend in Croatian-born Dejan Lazic who proved both sympathetic to the work’s spiky Romanticism as well as its richly flamboyant strain. All right, it’s a hard piece to get wrong in terms of technique: you either have it or you fumble, obviously so. But finding each point of equilibrium as it turns up – from the assertive opening, through the Dies irae mini-phantasmagoria, into the middle etudes-tableaux excursions that arrive finally at the soulful apex of that melting moment Andante cantabile in D flat, concluding with the spiky final set of six variants that eventually bring to mind every lush piano concerto finale, up to the finishing in-my-end-is-my-beginning quirk – that is demanding, a series of challenges that Lazic met with high success.

Indeed, in this 20-odd-minute journey, Lazic showed an impressive mastery of material, relishing each abrupt turn and wholly prepared to give free rein to the usually dour composer’s high spirits and what amounts to an emotional elation that permeates this most appealing of his piano-orchestra scores.

As was the case last year with the ACO’s attempt at Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue, I missed the usual orchestral voices to a significant degree. Bernard Rofe‘s arrangement for piano, percussion and strings proved serviceable enough; as far as I could tell, Lazic wasn’t required to carry out anything but his own role and Nixon provided discreet additions to the texture (but did he have the complete set of the original score’s instruments, including glockenspiel and bass drum?). We missed a harp and ten each of both woodwind and brass.

Naturally, it’s beyond the ACO’s budget to carry 21 or 22 extra musicians around the country on an 11-concert operation, even if this particular tour covered only cities on the eastern side of the mainland. And I’m sure plenty of patrons would rather hear a truncated-in-forces version of this welcome work than not. But at certain moments, I missed individual and group timbres, the absence of which came as a cross between surprise and disappointment.

Even from the introduction, without the brass punctuation starting at Number 1 in the old Boosey & Hawkes score, you knew that you weren’t going to enjoy the usual environmental sparks; not to mention the clarinet/bassoon semiquaver slide three bars before Number 2. And on it went: the burbling clarinet gruppetti at bar 9 and bar 1 before Number 15 in Variation 6; the wind triplets that give a piquant edge to the Variation 9 texture at Number 26; the brass blazoning at Number 28 in the middle of Variation 10; the sprightly march that opens Variation 14 quasi Tromba in the woodwinds which reaches its bombastic best at Number 37 when all the brass enter wholeheartedly.

And still it continued: the plangent oboe at the start of Variation 17, followed by the first clarinet two bars after Number 45 – a brilliant complement; that energetic build-up of powerful bass layers under the piano’s full-blooded chords from Number 63 to two bars after Number 64; the vital pointillism in the woodwind starting Variation 24; and the hefty pesante of the brass hurtling out the Latin chant at Number 78.

You’d say that there’s no use crying over what couldn’t be done. I’d query why you’d bother doing something half-cocked. Even more so than with the Gershwin, you could sense the underdone nature of this effort, despite the soloist’s excellent demonstration of expertise and interpretative skill. Needless to say, Rachmaninov’s Rhapsody received enthusiastic applause from a pretty full house which clearly didn’t mind the thin orchestral fabric. De gustibus non est disputandum . . . except for mine, which are impeccable.

A startling clarity

BACH’S MOTETS

Bach Akademie Australia

St. John’s Lutheran Church, Southgate

Thursday February 5, 2026

Madeleine Easton

The image above is inaccurate, for this recital specifically. Madeleine Easton is founder/violinist with Sydney’s Bach Akademie Australia but on this night she was directing a few musicians only from her ensemble of expert players: cello Daniel Yeadon, double bass Pippa MacMillan, and two organists in Neal Peres Da Costa and Nathan Cox (who seemed to be giving the major contribution in this area). Her main focus beyond this functional continuo line-up, was the Song Company, another Sydney group but familiar here, thanks to its Melbourne Recital Hall appearances in recent years.

As I remember it, the Company numbered six singers, although it expanded when necessary. As for this mammoth bout of Bach’s seven motets, now that Ich lass dich nicht has been (finally) admitted into the canon. Some faces/voices are familiar: soprano Susannah Lawergren, tenor Timothy Reynolds, bass Andrew O’Connor. Others are new to me: soprano Michelle Ryan, alto Hannah Fraser, tenor Christopher Watson and bass Tom Herring. One other is new to the country: guest alto from the Netherlands, Iris Korfker.

Naturally, you need at least eight voices to negotiate the double choirs required for all the motets except the first one treated on this night: Lobet den Herrn which burst on us with unexpected vehemence. It was the original Song Company’s nature to sing forcefully; you were the only negotiator of a particular line, for the most part, and so no point was served in holding back in timbre. When you have four lines being treated by two singers each, used to individual projection, the results are powerful. Forget the solemn, respectful treatment from the British university college choirs, or even the bravely confident approach of German choirs these days. We were in for a night of dramatic exhalations and this opening gambit proved dynamically potent.

A slightly distracting sight was that of a soprano conducting herself ever so slightly. This might be a nervous performance tic but seemed unnecessary, given the fluency and directness of Easton’s gestures, which revealed a sterling familiarity with all of the night’s material. It also stuck out because nobody else did anything similar, all of them focused on their conductor as the sole fount and origin of their output.

Da Costa emerged for the following Komm, Jesu, komm, written possibly about 1731-2. His function on a chamber organ, like the efforts of Yeardon and Macmillan, was straightforward and based on the supposition that Bach might have employed a continuo group, as well as the two choirs that actually feature in his score; I haven’t been able to trace an edition of this work which has a written-out continuo line. Easton managed to elicit a deft balance from both forces in this consolatory construct, although Reynolds’ output proved clarion clear, dominating the mix at certain stages to an inordinate degree.

Giving us what was probably intended to be a modern leavening, possible latter-day imitations/homages to Bach, Easton and her company programmed two contemporary works, the first of which was written by Brisbane-based musician Sandra Milliken for a 2025 Bonhoeffer Project which interwove a Mass text with extracts from the Lutheran pastor’s writings while a prisoner of the Nazis. The composer arranged her original Herr Jesus Christus for eight-part choir and the results were amiable enough; not strikingly contemporary – indeed, it seemed to be couched in G minor, with minor 2nds thrown in, but couched in the English choral tradition, those discordant touches brightening an orthodox vocabulary. The metrical set-up sounded stolid, as did the rate of modulation where the home tonality moved into the major (E flat?) half-way through. Oddly enough, the last bars held a taste of the glee club about them, the parts moving with glib facility.

Two more motets preceded interval. First, the brief Ich lasse dich nicht which starts out in straight statement/response format, then moves into four-parts at the change of metre with the sopranos steeling the chorale melody over a restless quaver support from the lower voices. Indeed, musicologists have warred over the piece’s stages of composition, the first part coming from 1713 or earlier, the second section dating from 1735 or earlier. This latter section struck me as one of the more collegial sections of the program where personalities subsumed themselves for once.

Da Costa relieved Cox at the organ for Der Geist hilft of 1729 where basses O’Connor and Herring enjoyed plenty of continuo reinforcement, which was probably original as Bach orchestrated the piece with separate timbres for each of the choirs. The whole built to an alarming stridency at the height of the fugue that starts at sondern der Geist before it settles into doubling the parts (except the sopranos, of course). Still, the complex ended with a deliberate and considered reading of the chorale Du heilige Brunst with its superb text by Luther and Bach’s abruptly touching first Halleluja!

Back after the break, our singers gave Furchte dich nicht of 1726, or possibly over ten years earlier, which has instruments allocated to the vocal lines, even if none of them are specified. This was also striking for its animation in attack, which came as a relief, given the amount of textual repetition in the work’s main body. Even though Reynolds cut through the mix at some points, the whole body involved us in the action which seems to resolve itself, but doesn’t, when the sopranos take up the chorale tune Herr, mein Hirt and the complications are reduced to three lines, not six.

Yeadon then generated a thrusting version of the Prelude to Bach’s D minor Cello Suite, his fabric solid and informed by a clear articulation that wobbled only on a handful of occasions, although I was perplexed by the length of time he took over the dominant chord caesura at bar 48. You could find no fault with his negotiation of the concluding triple/quadruple-stopped chords, those sinewy strong pillars that anchor the movement’s restlessness.

Next came the large-framed Jesu, meine Freude of possibly 1723, even more possibly 1735 or thereabouts. In this 11-movement glory that oscillates between four and five parts, we hit the theatrical early with a feisty Es ist nun nichts, Easton making obvious points with the forte/piano oscillations and heightening the tension to a point that reminded us of the Sind Blitze, sind Donner eruptions from the St. Matthew Passion. Some of this fire came over even in the following (usually) sedate chorale with its klacht und blitzt with some Holle schrecken thrown in.

Light, mainly non-competitive relief arrived with the brief sopranos+alto trio Denn das Gesetz before we returned to the hit-outs of Trotz in five parts, again notable for its biting drama and percussive attack. In contrast, the work’s central fugue was generated with uniform clarity, attention focused on the linear interplay rather than any potential for vocal shocks; not that you can find many of these in one of the two drier texts that Bach employed, arguing for spiritual as well as physical commitment to Christ.

Another real pleasure came in the trio So aber Christus which I think featured Reynolds, O’Connor and the visiting alto, Korfker; whatever its composition, the group intrigued for its mixture of vocal timbres, here pitched at comparable dynamic levels and carefully articulating the second theologically practical text in the motet, again decrying the value of the body as compared to the soul – fair enough, for a believer. The lighter texture continued with a lightly-stepping Gute Nacht, without basses, an alto and a tenor. But I was taken aback by an unfortunate soprano solo at the end of So nun der Geist which stuck out from the smoothly accomplished five-part handling of this semi-reprise of Es ist nun nichts.

To follow, another contemporary interlude in Scottish writer James MacMillan’s O Radiant Dawn: one of the composer’s more well-travelled contributions to choral music and part of his 2007 Strathclyde Motets set. The Company probably enjoyed this ‘easy’ music after Bach’s complexities and the outstanding feature of the work, those ‘snaps’ or accacciature in bars 2, 4 and in the tenor for the work’s final chord (bar 45), even if these all sounded atypically faint, even given the forte direction at the opening and a piano dynamic prevailing in the chain of six Amens that MacMillan inserted along with an Isaiahan prophecy, negotiated by the ensemble’s female voices with excellent fluency.

And we ended with the joyous Singet dem Herrn (possibly 1727), Da Costa back at the organ; the Barenreiter edition (acting as God disposing) proposes ‘Instrument ad libitum’. Once again, tenor Reynolds’ timbre dominated proceedings, soaring over his peers in the opening chorus and reinforced by Watson when the tenors doubled each other from about bar 103 to bar 128. Mind you, the further into this opening gambit we go, the less energy seems to come from its hard-worked negotiators. It’s all a magnificent complex, if an aural assault that resolves itself into a four-part fugue for the final Alles, was Odem strophes which mirrored the jaunty bounce we heard at the evening’s start.

In the end, an extraordinary test of stamina for the performers, an unexpected demonstration of vocal clarity for us listeners in a series of performances that startled for their directness of address. Which I’m coming to believe is a Sydney characteristic; I can’t think of any Melbourne choir that would have infused these motets with similar bite and dynamic heft. Many thanks to these generous visitors.

The lady’s not for twelve-toning

HOMEGROWN

Rebecca Cassidy and Alex Raineri

Move Records MCD 664

That’s just what they are: art songs by nine Australian composers, one of whom gets a double dip (Lisa Cheney) and another also represented by a piano solo, performed with enthusiastic rhapsody by Alex Raineri. His associate, soprano Rebecca Cassidy, moves through a pretty wide spectrum, even if the greater number of these writers share a brand of lyrical vocabulary that doesn’t move much beyond Debussy at its most sophisticated and Vaughan Williams at its simplest. Alright, let’s say Cyril Scott or John Ireland or possibly Duparc – well-trodden paths, whatever the derivation.

The earliest piece on this Move Records CD is a John Fletcher setting by Peggy Glanville-Hicks that dates from 1931. Next is Miriam Hyde’s 1933 Dream Land to a Christina Rossetti poem, with her piano solo – Brownhill Creek in Spring, dating from 1942. Then comes Dulcie Holland whose Hope in Spring from 1953 is here receiving its first recorded performance. For some reason, there’s a near-forty year break before we come to Betty Beath who, in 1991, wrote her River songs cycle, from which we hear River – Mother, River – Child. A year later, Mary Mageau produced Son of Mine to a poem by Oodgeroo Noonuccal, which is also enjoying its first recording here. Finishing the 20th century is Linda Kouvaras with Distant lullaby from her 1999 cycle Art and Life.

The first Cheney song comes from 2006, a simple Lullaby in its first recording, as are the rest of this CD’s contents. Melody Eotvos features here with one of her Wakeford Songs of 2014; By Train. Penultimately, Deborah Cheetham Fraillon appears with a 2022 commission written for Raineri’s Brisbane Festival: Crepe Myrtle Sky. The finish comes through Cheney’s second contribution, the most substantial on the disc: Gratitude and Grief, written last year and a substantial contribution to the form, even if the vocabulary applied is conservative.

Does that matter? Should we regard the similarities between Glanville-Hicks’ quick lyric and Cheney’s maternal eulogy as evidence of an inner consistency of language and employment of the form? Not as close as nearly100 years apart, I would think. You might find explanations for Glanville-Hicks, Hyde and Holland but the other six writers are working well after a massive explosion of technical and emotional language became available to Australian writers for several decades before, for example, Beath’s product of 1991. Such a discarding of advances in language speak to an undercurrent in the CD’s title where the writers use a compositional vocabulary that was tried and true, well established before most of them were born and which they are obviously happy to re-employ in these latter days of a current reductio ad absurdum in serious composition (see Eurovision or the ABC’s rage for relentless instances).

Cassidy and Raineri give a genteel reading of Glanville-Hicks’ setting of Fletcher’s two-stanza lyric which taxes nobody because of its clarity – one might say, its simplicity. The composer begins in G Major and stays in that key throughout with not a single extra accidental employed. The little prelude provides the initial material for the singer and the postlude reflects the piece’s beginning. Glanville-Hicks wrote it before leaving for England and it shows an 18-year-old making the most of what she has come across by way of instruction in 1930s Australia.

Showing a more adventurous attitude to tonality, Miriam Hyde’s treatment of Rossetti’s four stanzas shows an awareness of chromatic passing notes on its lush Brahmsian A Major path and the composer treats the vocal line as a continuous sheet rather than four repetitions while Raineri arpeggiates and moons soulfully with semitonal droops across the canvas. But I can’t help thinking of Amy Woodforde-Finden’s Pale Hands I Loved of 30 years earlier because of a similar hot-house emotional restraint and a similar vocal curvature, although Hyde’s choice of text makes for a refreshing dash of introspective brilliance.

As for Hyde’s piano piece, this also luxuriates in its A Major neo-Impressionism with some Debussy Arabesque-style arpeggios to begin over a left-hand melody that employs a flattened leading note, leading to a development/elongation of the set material, before a less active section – less full of Jardins sous la pluie or Jeux d’eau – moving more slowly, before a return to water imagery and a quiet coda. The images here are European; probably understandable because the photos I’ve come across of Brownhill Creek are of a lush landscape, even more so than the Esmond George watercolour that inspired it. Raineri has had this music in his repertoire for a few years now and holds its quivering sensibility in the palms of both hands.

With Holland’s love song (to her own text), we have a further reach back into the past, to an almost Victorian mode of communication. Also couched in A Major, its three verses operating in an A-B-A ternary mode, this is a fluent example of limited rhapsody, its emotional language operating inside strict bounds, the excitement limited to a concluding sustained vocal A, the whole typical of this popular writer’s craft in action. Cassidy and Raineri make an elegantly-paired combination in facing its few challenges.

Now we make the forty-year leap to the 1990s and Beath’s setting of a Jena Woodhouse poem which also could be using A Major as its base but is written in neutral tonalities with a kind of prevailing ambiguity, possibly arising from the composer’s time in Bali and Java. Still, there are passages where Europe still holds sway, e.g. bars 15 to 18, and bars 24 to 26; in fact, anywhere that the texture changes from the open-sounding 6/8 quavers set up at the opening. But it manages to avoid the predictable character of this CD’s earlier samples through its angularity and rhythmically varied vocal and piano lines.

Setting this country’s best-known Aboriginal poet is a daunting task, even for an American expatriate. Mageau achieves a good deal in her Noonuccal setting, keeping up a steady A octave bass drone-support for most of the three stanzas, with some grinding dissonances in the pivotal chords underpinning the central quatrain. Despite the poet’s attempts to lift the spirits of reconcilers in her final lines, Mageau maintains the accompaniment’s grimness under the composer’s arioso-type vocal line. The whole exercise reminds me of Schubert’s Leiermann, probably because of that persistent bass and its added notes like Schubert’s use of the appoggiatura.

Both poet and composer change the tone for the work’s central lines which detail some of the crimes committed against Aboriginal people, causing Mageau to break into a confronting discordant piano part that heightens the outrage being communicated, the harmony having moved to C minor, if you take the soaring vocal line into consideration. It makes for grim hearing, but then, the poet was intent on holding her mirror up to white failures – which I think come across strongly in this musical realization.

Distant lullaby is the concluding song in Kouvaras’ six-part cycle and is emphatically tonal from start to finish; I believe it starts and ends in C Major with some moves into the flattened submediant – two of them – that would recall Schubert if the general texture and message of the piece weren’t plain. Art and Life traces a woman’s infatuation with an artist, the baby they have, a growing disaffection, her militancy in the face of abuse, her action (murder?) in facing down the violence against her, and this lullaby sung from her incarceration.

Kouvaras is an academic at Melbourne University but her composition practice comes from a different source than the sophisticated technical bravura prevalent in her workspace. You might find it effective in achieving its end, showing a pretty widespread emotion – love of a child – in a simple consolatory expression but, for me, it’s naïve. Yes, I know that’s the nature of a lullaby but this simplicity sounds inconsistent with our times – too much Richard Strauss, not enough Janacek.

Furthering the trend towards simpler times of yore, Lisa Cheney’s Lullaby stays in a 3/4 metre throughout, I think. Certainly, the key is B flat minor and there are few deviations from it. There’s a lilt and folk-song gentleness about this piece which eventually reduces Raineri’s function (in the third stanza?) to little more than a few supporting notes or chords. Probably the only surprise comes in the presence of a flattened supertonic at the end of a stanza or two; for the rest, the New Simplicity strikes again.

Suddenly, we come to a composition that sounds totally contemporary in Eotvos’ striking lyric which details World War One nurse Muriel Wakeford’s arrival in Cairo prior to heading for Gallipoli (which she survived). By Train is part of a five-song cycle on texts extracted from Wakeford’s diary but the other songs are difficult to come by. Anyway, this composer has a complex vocabulary and puts both her interpreters to the test, particularly Raineri with flurries of notes meant to represent the train itself. Still, the vocal line is in parts jagged, with difficult leaps and it’s rhythmically demanding as the piece operates in a free-flowing ambience. Nevertheless, despite the high chromaticism at work, I sensed an undercurrent of G minor beneath the abrupt forays and excursions from both musicians.

We hit show-tune territory with the Cheetham Fraillon creation. The song’s text – as with Holland, Hyde and one of the Cheneys – was written by the composer and can’t be found online. Neither can you find access to any part of the music, although that doesn’t matter so much because the proportions and content are easy to fathom, often to the point of being predictable. The song appears to begin in an ambiguous C Major (most of the Bs are natural) but ends in a definite F Major. It only strays from these possibilities twice, the second deviation more solid, but you are confronted by a pleasant vocal line that could have found a place in a Sondheim musical.

And so to Gratitude and Grief which is a mixture of scena and meditation with motherhood as its subject. This song is the only one to enjoy any sort of exegesis in the CD’s accompanying leaflet and it’s a backgrounding from the composer on her embrace of the existence of her two young daughters. The text comes from New Zealand poet Jessica Urlichs and, although it does nothing for me because of an innate sexism and misogyny typical in men of my age, the words find a gifted setter in Cheney and evoke a lucid response from these musicians.

The piece rises and falls like a long arc, climaxing in the words ‘I’m still learning to breathe under this waterfall of gratitude and grief’ which are sung with conviction by Cassidy while Raineri evokes an emotional cascade in a fierce wash of notes. On either side is a calm that eventually resolves into a limpid vision of the new-born as infinite but knowable, which is about as consoling a realization as any parent can come to and which mercifully doesn’t tip over into self-congratulation.

Here also, there are traces of the show-tune sentiment in the melodic phrases and that peculiarly American mode of confessional declamation that has its origins in Rodgers and Hammerstein heroines. But Cheney isn’t alone in this penchant for the soulful and accessible, offering the most sustained instance in this CD of a contentment with trusted tropes.

I assure you that the order in which I’ve commented on the4se songs is not that of the CD’s tracks, which jumps all over the shop temporally. For some of us, the album is light-on, coming in under 45 minutes; balance that with exposure to two fine talents who invest their talents and sympathy into each composer that they benefit here with their art.

The flute as we now know it

SHIFTING LANDSCAPES

Kathryn Moorhead

Move Records MCD 672

Adelaide-based flautist Kathryn Moorhead plays nine pieces of contemporary music in this, her latest CD for Move Records. She ranges between recently-deceased American Alison Knowles’ Proposition #2: How to Make a Salad from 1962, and two works from 2016: another American and a flautist herself, Nicole Chamberlain‘s Lilliputian for piccolo and music box, and the Pimento study for solo piccolo by British writer Edmund Joliffe, best known for his TV scores.

In between come species of flute-writing covering a wide spectrum: difficult Brit Brian Ferneyhough‘s Cassandra’s Dream Song of 1971, L’ombra dell’angelo by University of Mantua academic Paolo Perezzani from 1985, our own (sort of) Andrew Ford‘s 1993 Female Nude for amplified alto flute, East-and-West fuser American Elizabeth Brown‘s Acadia for flute and shakuhachi (Anne Norman) written in 1999, Laveringar of 2001 by senior Swedish writer Daniel Bortz, and Brisbane-born Damian Barbeler‘s 2006 Confession 2 for piccolo and electronics.

Despite this half-century time-span and variety of instrumentation, Moorhead’s CD is undersized, coming in at 54 minutes. Longest in the list is the Perezzani, almost 12 minutes; the shortest is Pimento which settles itself at a trifle over 80 seconds. The flautist takes on the very challenging Italian work first. This sets up a very physical angel’s shadow ambience with a lengthy sequence of trills from all over the instrument’s compass, giving a brilliant aural image of restless flight partly through the abrupt ‘fill-in’ flights between trills

The attack modes also involve the listener in what sounds like a violent series of curvets, often initiated by a burst of air as the player moves into the territory of over-blowing, although it’s mainly resulting in semi-harmonics rather than Bartolozzi-style multiphonics. What comes over impresses for its ferocity which is contrasted with almost inaudible soft phrases, so that you get some sense of the ethereal as lightning-fast which, in the later stages of the piece, flattens out into long sustained notes with a strange vibrato in the upper register that is produced by using a key (God knows which one) to generate a throbbing, like a wing in fluent action.

Barbeler follows. His piece features a meandering motif from the piccolo which acts as the voice of the confessor while the electronic tapestry that underpins the live instrument’s tale serves as a sort of subterranean admission of deeper deeds. And that presents the listener with a dichotomy in the best botanical sense. The live instrument dilates its opening material – a scale pattern coming down a 4th, then up a 2nd – while the backdrop moves from sustained sound blocks, across to burbling action, then to a concluding combination of both – in line with the composer’s aim of having his confession operate on two levels: the overt and the secretive.

Mind you, I don’t believe that you can achieve anything of the kind in music without words. You might want to believe that the flute represents a sinner/offender and the electronics stand in for the surrounding ambience or morally debilitating environment, but the intellectual construction involved reaches well beyond the probable. Barbeler might tell us the impetus behind his work but he gives us no pins on which to hang his metaphysics, just as Strauss fails to convince us in his score that Nietzsche’s Zoroaster spoke any of the ideas that populate his invigorating tone poem.

In similar fashion, Andrew Ford’s Female Nude for amplified alto flute with vocalisations probably conveys a lot to the writer but any listener would be hard pressed to find anything suggesting the title in this rather monomaniacal obsession with the note A that the composer keeps returning to after a few flights of angular modernity. Moorhead is required to articulate individual consonants and vowels on that same A (or occasionally, its neighbour) in medias res, which makes for a deft display of legerdemain from the performer, generating these noises while playing a rhythmically complex instrumental part which every so often asks for a fusion of voice and flute with some heavily forced notes to leaven the mixture.

As for Elizabeth Brown’s Acadia, the performers present an unnerving mirror of each other in their performance which at various points blurs any distinction between the two sound sources. As we have come to know and love from exposure to Riley Lee’s craft, the Japanese flute can bend notes significantly; in fact this elision process makes Norman’s shakuhachi melodic contour highly distinctive. In this reading, Moorhead can do something like the same on her orthodox Western instrument. In fact, the two lines intermesh with unusual ease and deceptiveness.

The title refers to a national park on a Maine island and probably has some reminiscences for those who know the place. For the rest of us, I’d suggest, our minds inevitably turn to the Japanese archipelago, the less populated parts with suggestions of bird calls and remoteness. Brown’s language proposes a juxtaposition of the two instruments’ timbral possibilities but something more profound than this in that the flute and shakuhachi become more than complementary, but rather inextricably linked so that only the occasional high note from the flute or a breathy near-overblow from the shakuhachi allows for some momentary distinction to be made. A remarkable exhibition from players and composer.

Cassandra’s Dream Song, which remains one of the outstanding flute solos of (nearly) our time, enjoys a spirited reading from Moorhead. The score itself is fearsome, evidence of Ferneyhough’s nomination as an (the) outstanding member of the New Complexity school – which term has always struck me as odd because, although it might be complex, it’s not really new, is it? You can trace the modernization of the flute throughout 20th century decades and find pieces presenting just as many challenges as this one, not least the attention to detail that the composer sets out in his page of sound-manufacture description.

Leaving the order of line performance to the interpreter is not that much of a risk because you will wind up hearing an entity rather than a series of fragments. Further, as an American academic has pointed out, one of the standout performances of the work has not changed over time, the interpreter sticking to his original choices across the years. Not that this matters too much because the piece itself is a nightmare to play and experience; the prophetess is prefiguring the disasters that happen to her home city, its inhabitants, and her own fate when Agamemnon brings her back to Mycenae. Moorhead accounts for the breaths, splutters, note suffocations and piercing bursts of clarity with impressive authority, making a dramatic scenario that does justice to Aeschylus’ doomed concubine.

We move back to a child’s world for Nicole Chamberlain’s gesture towards the Part One of Swift’s novel. The music-box is set up beforehand by the performer punching out the requisite roll, then presumably playing along with it. As far as I can tell, the 6/8 piece in F minor doesn’t move outside that rhythm or key and the results would be quite suitable for a Play School sound track. But it sits uncomfortably in the shadow of the previous track on this CD with only a small downward bend on the last note to queer the surface orthodoxy.

Laveringar‘s subtitle is Tinted Drawings, and is the plural (in Swedish) of the painting term lavering, referring to a wash or thin coat. This is another substantial solo which initially oscillates between urgent upward rushes of demisemiquavers and clarion calls, then quiet moments of near-stasis with long semibreves to calm the action. Bortz also has an initial penchant for bending notes but soon leaves them alone until his final staves. In fact, he embarks on a narrative path that I find hard to follow.

This is in part due to the composer’s quite proper view of his laverings as differing from one painting to another; he isn’t confining his washes to one type or genre but is splashing his colours around with lavish abandon. Which means he can follow his own fancy, of course, as can every writer, but it means that the piece must be, by the act of lavering, inchoate. As the painter allows his/her wash to spread or constrict in alignment with whatever constitutes the standard of composition (if s/he has one), so Bortz’s musical lavering can lead anywhere. To her credit, Moorhead follows each sprouting of colour with enthusiasm, giving each furioso as much care as she does every corresponding piu lento.

The third piccolo piece on this CD, Joliffe’s brief bagatelle, gives a musical picture – as far as one can – of the sweet pepper named in its title. It is very active, a sort of rapid toccata, with variable time signatures and some quirky sound production changes about half-way through. But the piece is quite brief, just long enough to raise your estimation of Moorhead’s precision and agility.

To end, an instance of music in the everyday. Knowles instructs the performer/s to engage in the cutting, slicing, dicing, scraping and mixing that are the aural concomitants of making a salad. This performer makes the required sounds for about 2 1/2 minutes. As with most of these presentations, it’s more engaging to see than to hear, as I found way back when first coming across similar efforts from Cage and Stockhausen (in his later years) where the event had nothing to do with written music but concentrated on (usually minimal) instructions on making sounds and noises that became music, in the best Fluxus sense. Nothing too hard about that; the interaction between art and everyday has become a long-standing (well, several decades off a century) practice in many fields of art.

Yet I feel that this finale to Moorhead’s album will wind up being the least heard of the nine tracks she offers. A nice idea and an unexpectedly relevant celebration of Knowles’ passing less than three months ago, yet Proposition #2 doesn’t quite fill out the spaces after a preceding sequence of works that offer more meat on the bone. Nevertheless, this CD makes a welcome addition to the faltering number of recordings that deal with the flute as it is used in our time.

Diary February 2026

RACHMANINOFF’S RHAPSODY

Australian Chamber Orchestra

Elisabeth Murdoch Hall, Melbourne Recital Centre

Saturday February 7 ay 7:30 pm

No, it’s not the composer’s Russian Rhapsody of 1891 for two pianos but – as you’ve anticipated – the Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, written in 1934 and these days the most popular of his works for piano with orchestra. To foreground the Australian Chamber Orchestra‘s excursion into this spiky score, Dejan Lazic comes back to work with Richard Tognetti and his gifted players. In keeping with recent ACO practice, the orchestra will be reduced, in this case confined to strings and percussion. It’s improbable that any arrangement will make up for the missing 20 wind players; we’ll all just have to adjust our levels of disbelief. Stravinsky, who was remarkably non-catty about his fellow-exile, also appears on the program with his Concerto in D for strings of 1946 from just about when the composer had become a freshly-minted American citizen. Proceedings open with an ACO commission – Horizon – from the committed environmentalist American John Luther Adams. As a counterweight to all this Americana, home-grown and imported, we hear Lithuanian composer Raminta Serksnyte‘s early work for strings from 1998, De Profundis. It’s a searing, aggressive (for the most part) score of great passion and rigour; just the sort of music that attracts this group which is here playing its Australian premiere. Ticket prices range between $30 for a student to $175 for an adult top seat; you have to add on the excessive ‘handling fee’ of between $7 and $8.50, depending on what your delivery mode is.

This program will be repeated on Sunday February 8 in Hamer Hall, Arts Centre Melbourne at 2:30 pm and again on Monday February 8 in the Elisabeth Murdoch Hall, Melbourne Recital Centre at 7:30 pm.

SYMPHONIC CELEBRATION

Melbourne Symphony Orchestra

Sidney Myer Music Bowl

Tuesday February 10 at 7:30 pm

Some traditions hold fast and the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra‘s free concerts at the Myer Bowl still flourish, I see, even if the format has altered since I last sweltered into the venue along with half of Melbourne. Tonight’s conductor will be Leonard Weiss, the organization’s Cybec assistant conductor (although he doesn’t appear as such on the MSO website); he has an impressive list of accomplishments and engagements here, in New Zealand, and across Europe. His main task tonight will be infusing novelty into Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5 – still in C minor, as one curmudgeonly British critic once wrote. Eventually completed in 1808, it remains one of the composer’s most striking and accessible compositions and concludes with the mother of all C Major codas. The program’s soloist is the MSO’s principal trumpet, Owen Morris, who premiered Sydney composer Holly Harrison‘s Hellbent back in April 2021: ten minutes of jazz-style inflections for the soloist and written by someone who can actually play the instrument. Pleasing us all with its familiarity comes Grieg’s publication of 1888, the Peer Gynt Suite No. 1: Morning Mood, The Death of Ase, Anitra’s Dance, and In the Hall of the Mountain King. This appeared in one of the MSO’s first programs (way back with Zelman’s Albert Street Conservatorium Orchestra?) and satisfies for its emotional canvas and satisfyingly balanced phrase lengths. To begin, the voice of a Cybec (how that organization gets around) Young Composer in Residence is heard in a specially commissioned Fanfare. This is Andrew Aranowicz who has proficiency in this field, having contributed to the fifty fanfares written on commission for the Sydney Symphony in 2022, his brass decet Pride a jaunty, well-crafted sample of the form. We can only anticipate similar.

AUSTRALIAN YOUTH ORCHESTRA

Melbourne Symphony Orchestra

Sidney Myer Music Bowl

Wednesday February 11 at 7:30 pm

Rather than putting themselves out, the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra is giving up one of its Bowl nights to the Australian Youth Orchestra. I haven’t heard this group for many years, long enough for the personnel – both players and administrators – to have changed completely. Anyway, tonight they begin with American writer Anna Clyne‘s This Midnight Hour of 2015: a 12-minute complex that the Australian National Academy of Music performers aired last March at the Melbourne Recital Centre. Next comes Daniel Nelson‘s Steampunk Blizzard, a 2016 fanfare by the American-born Swedish resident whose composition lasts a little over 7 minutes and sets some nifty rhythmic puzzles for young players, mainly to do with dotted quavers. It’s racy and highly atmospheric, especially if you’re into the industry-heavy side of steampunkery, while its progress shows influences of Bernstein and, at one luminous passage, Janacek’s Sinfonietta finale. Then comes Stravinsky’s Firebird Suite from 1945, rearranged so the always-thrifty composer wouldn’t miss out on his American copyright cash. There are three pantomime interludes between the first four dances but, even with this expansion, the score lasts barely half an hour. So, from what I can see, this all adds up to less than an hour’s music, a quick concert – unless there’s going to be a lot of talk. The evening’s conductor is Christian Reif from Germany, currently chief conductor of Sweden’s Gavle Orchestra, his predecessor in that post being Jaime Martin . . . which just goes to show that what goes around, goes around. As usual, this is a free event.

BAROQUE MASTERS

Australian Brandenburg Orchestra

Elisabeth Murdoch Hall, Melbourne Recital Centre

Thursday February 12 at 7 pm

Opening its Melbourne operations for this year, the Australian Brandenburg Orchestra gets back to basics with a fully Baroque program: Handel, Bach, Vivaldi and Pachelbel. As well, the concert’s soloists come from the Brandenburg ranks – all local talent. Nevertheless, much of the content relies on the ensemble’s strings with artistic director Paul Dyer regulating everybody’s input from his centrally-positioned harpsichord. To begin, a Handel concerto grosso from the seminal Op. 6 published in 1739: the first one, in G. Then come the middle two of Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos – No. 3 in G for strings and No. 4 also in G which asks for a front group of solo violin and two recorders. As we all know, these were presented to the idiot Margrave in 1721 and five of them disappeared from public notice. I don’t know what’s happening in this version of No. 4: Melissa Farrow is down to play baroque flute, but Adam Masters is listed as performing baroque oboe. Concertmaster Shaun Lee-Chen will probably take on the solo string line which has just as much work to do, if not more, than the two wind players. Then we’ll have a break from G Major and hear the one Pachelbel piece that everyone knows: his Canon in D for strings which you can encounter at many a wedding or funeral in this country. To end, Vivaldi’s 1705 Trio Sonata Op. 1 No. 12 which is a set of 20 variations in D minor on that useful progression, La Folia. It also involves two violins and a continuo part but I sense that its original modesty in personnel demands might take a turn for overkill. The ticketing is an administrative saga. Full adult prices move from $45 to $167; concession card holders inexplicably fall between $54 and $105. If you’re a senior, your range is $77 to $151; a full-time student sits anywhere for $20; an Under 40 only gets into A Reserve at $36. I won’t carry on about the individual price for groups of 10+ but will excite you with the news that prices vary between this and later performances. A constant is the $4-$8.50 fee exercised by the Recital Centre if you book online or by phone; the grifters we have always with us.

This program will be repeated on Saturday February 14 at 5 pm and on Sunday February 15 at 5 pm.

50 YEARS OF ABC CLASSIC

Melbourne Symphony Orchestra

Sidney Myer Music Bowl

Saturday February 14 at 7:30 pm

In a burst of patriotic fervour, this program from the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra celebrating a pivotal national radio station (and the rest) comprises Australian music only; as far as I can tell, all the soloists are well-known locals. Let’s see what sort of crowd this program attracts, although it strikes me that you could play a night of Berwald alongside Hovhaness and the place would be packed. No, it’s not just because it’s free, but that helps. Benjamin Northey conducts works by ten writers covering a wide range. He opens with Nigel Westlake‘s Cudmirrah Fanfare of 1987: a two-minute jubilation. Then we hear selections from Westlake’s Antarctica Suite, extracted in 1991 from music written for a documentary and tonight featuring guitarist Slava Grigoryan; obviously, we won’t get all four movements. An up-to-the-moment effort comes from Ella Macens with the world premiere of her My Heart on Yours about which nothing is known – yet. A nod to the recent elders with Sculthorpe’s nostalgic Small Town for chamber orchestra of 1963, inspired by D.H Lawrence’s antipodean saga, Kangaroo. A vital contrast comes with the last movement of Ross EdwardsManinyas Violin Concerto, written in 1988 – a voice that can’t be mistaken for anyone else’s and tonight featuring as soloist the MSO’s concertmaster Natalie Chee. We wouldn’t be complete without an Elena Kats-Chernin contribution, and here it’s her 2021 Momentum involving lots of woodwind throughout its seven minutes. As we’ve arrived at the statutory female part of the night, we’ll hear from the mainly expatriate writer Peggy-Glanville Hicks through the Promenade first movement from her Etruscan Concerto of 1954 which also calls for chamber orchestra only and will feature pianist Aura Go. A better-known blast from the past arrives in Miriam Hyde and her Andante tranquillo reworked from the Piano Concerto No. 2 of 1935 and which you’d have to assume will also be delivered with Go as soloist. James Henry, the MSO’s Cybec First Nations Composer in Residence, is contributing his Warrin (Wombat Season for the Wurundjeri, lasting from April to July), written in 2022 for string orchestra. To finish, here come the co-composing Tawadros brothers, Joseph and James on oud and req respectively, with a trio of numbers, all from their 2014 album Permission to Evaporate: first Constantinople, then Bluegrass Nikriz, and the title track to finish. It’s exciting music to experience in person and makes an affirmatively multi-cultural end to this night which has almost exclusively spoken a single if unequivocally imported tongue. Entry is free, of course, and the Bowl gates open, as usual, at 5 pm.

BRAHMS WITH JACK AND KRISTIAN

Kristian Chong & Friends

Primrose Potter Salon, Melbourne Recital Centre

Tuesday February 17 at 7 pm

You can’t ask for a recital more direct in its material than this one. Pianist Kristian Chong is collaborating with violinist Jack Liebeck, the British-German musician who is currently artistic director of Townsville’s Australian Festival of Chamber Music. These artists are working through all three of the Brahms violin sonatas: the meltingly fine G Major of 1879, the direct-speaking A Major from 7 years later, and the D minor, strikingly sombre and aggressive, finished after a long gestation in 1888. Thanks to an old friend, violinist Andrew Lee, I gained early knowledge and affection for all these scores and can’t think of a finer way to spend listening time than with this music. Liebeck has already given ample evidence of his abilities in these sonatas, having recorded them to some acclaim with pianist Katya Apekisheva for Sony in 2010. As for Chong, he’s an unfailing expert in chamber music operations, being one of the few pianists I can think of who’s aware of his function and responsibilities throughout intimate, confessional works like these. Tickets are $20 for students, $45 for concession holders, $55 full adults. Never forgetting the sliding scale fee from $4 to $8.50 if you book online or by phone; the trouble is, you have to or you could miss out because of the small holding power of the Centre’s Salon.

STARBURST

Omega Ensemble

Elisabeth Murdoch Hall, Melbourne Recital Centre

Wednesday February 18 at 7 pm

Beginning its Melbourne operations for 2026, the Omega Ensemble travels down the Hume (or its aeronautical of XPT equivalents) to perform a demanding program bookended by contemporary compositions. The evening begins with American violinist-composer Jessie Montgomery‘s 2012 work for string orchestra (at least, you have to assume this is the format we’ll hear) that gives a title to this event. It’s quick: listen hard or it will pass you by. Then David Rowden, the Omegas’ artistic director and founder, plays solo in Finzi’s Clarinet Concerto of 1949 about which British critics have made extravagant claims regarding value and cultural merit. We’ll see. To follow, the Omega resident pianist Vatche Jambazian and the Sydney Symphony Orchestra’s principal trumpet David Elton go for the Shostakovich Piano Concerto No. 1, with the composer at his enthusiastic best in that happy year of 1933, just before the Soviet apparatchik-generated dung hit the Stalin-generated fan over Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk. To conclude, an Australian work enjoys its premiere: Lachlan Skipworth‘s A Turning Sky brings everyone together in a 2025 score for clarinet, trumpet, piano and strings. According to the quality of your chosen seating position, Under 30s prices range from $39 to $114; the rest of us pay between $64 to $139, concession card holders getting their tickets for $10 less. You can circumvent the Recital Centre’s $4 to $8.50 surcharge by not booking online or by phone; just turn up on the night.

GOLDBERG VARIATIONS BY J. S. BACH PERFORMED BY ERIN HELYARD

Pinchgut Opera

Elisabeth Murdoch Hall, Melbourne Recital Centre

Thursday February 19 at 7:30 pm

Here’s a commendable move by Sydney’s trailblazing opera company: sponsoring a performance of Bach’s brilliantly focused masterwork for keyboard, to be performed by Erin Helyard, our home-grown William Christie. It helps, I suppose, that he is Pinchgut’s artistic director and co-founder, but he became a familiar face here through his role as artist in residence at the Recital Centre in 2022 and his assumption of the same role with the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra through 2024. Hence, I assume, the gamble of having him expound the Goldberg Variations in the Murdoch Hall rather than in the more rewardingly intimate (for him and for us) Primrose Potter Salon. Reassuringly, the performance is scheduled to last for about 70 minutes – which means that he’ll be observing all the repeats, or so you’d have to guess. Still, it’s a solid, fulfilling progress to the performer’s climactic repetition of the fulcrum theme and Bach’s organizational skill is still dazzling today, getting on for three centuries since the work’s initial publication in 1741. It’s fortunate if you’re under 35 as you can get a poor-to-not-bad seat for $35. If you’re older, you have to shell out between $55 and $140, with concession holders paying between $3 and $6 less – a demonstration of appalling niggardliness, especially when you have to accommodate the Transaction Fee imposed by the Recital Centre of between $4 and $8.50 if you book online or by phone.

GHOSTS MAKING FORM

ELISION

Primrose Potter Salon, Melbourne Recital Centre

Friday February 20 at 7 pm

This presentation from the contemporary music ensemble ELISION falls into three sections, the first pair being a ‘normal’ division of the entertainment into two halves. Then there’s an extra bit into which you can opt: a postlude billed as a Special Post-Concert Show. As far as I can tell, the whole recital is special: most of the composers are names I’ve never come across, although I can’t say that about the first one. Liza Lim has been a significant presence on this country’s modern music scene for many years and she begins this evening with her 2024 construct for cello (Freya Schack-Arnott) and piano (Alex Waite), written for a pair of Norwegian musicians which gives this program its title; then comes her brief Ming Qi, composed in 2000 for oboe (Niamh Dell) and percussion (Aditya Bhat or Peter Neville). Speaking of Scandinavia, a piece by Iceland-born writer Einar Torfi Einarsson follows: his Zone of proximity: (and the weakly interacting particles) from 2024 uses the forces of recorder (Ryan Williams) and cello (Schack-Arnott), here enjoying its premiere hearing. Victor Arul is currently Ph. D.-ing at Harvard after time in Perth and here; he is presenting new work from 2023 for the quartet of oboe (Dell), clarinet (Carl Rosman), trumpet (Tristram Williams) and piano (Waite). But he leaves us in a quandary: is this new work a ‘new work’ despite its dating from three years ago? Or is it actually called new work? Anyway, the first half of this exercise ends with Serbian-born Milica Djordjevic‘s 2022 Transfixed for bass clarinet (Rosman), trumpet (Williams), percussion (Bhat or Neville, or both), piano (Waite) and double bass (Rohan Dasika). We come back after a break for American musician Aaron Cassidy‘s 2021 E flat clarinet solo (Rosman, who commissioned it) 27. Juni 2009, taking a Gerhard Richter overpainted photograph as its stimulus. German composer Hakan Ulus is represented by a ‘new work’ but it dates from 2025 so he may not yet have decided on a title; in any case, it’s scored for cello (Schack-Arnott), piano (Waite) and percussion (Bhat/Neville). Amor, a vehement duet for flute (Paula Rae) and oboe (Dell), was written by John Rodgers in 1999, well before disastrous ill-health struck; a Queensland-born musician of high versatility, he died near Christmas 2024. To end this half, Cat Hope is represented by Goddess from last year, written for harp (Marshall McGuire), tam-tam (either Bhat or Neville, probably not both), and double bass (Dasika). The extra bit at the end of the concert proper features music by Lim, Mary Bellamy and Julio Estrada; these pieces will probably last about half-an-hour. Full-time students and concession card holders are charged $45, everybody else $55. And you also have to cope with the Recital Centre’s sliding transaction fee of anywhere between $4 and $8.50: an inimitable silliness that should preclude anybody from ordering online or by phone.

CHINESE NEW YEAR

Melbourne Symphony Orchestra

Hamer Hall, Arts Centre Melbourne

Saturday February 21 at 7:30 pm

These concerts have become a regular part of the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra‘s annual presentations and this observation of the Year of the Horse promises a heady mixture of East and West with five works thrown together without concern for relevance or juxtapositioning. Conductor Li Biao is also an expert percussionist which may give him extra insight to cope with Beethoven’s three-quarters-bouncy A Major Symphony No. 7 of 1812. He also leads the orchestral support for Saint-Saens’ flamboyant Cello Concerto No. 1 of 1872, with American 2019 Tchaikovsky Competition winner Zlatomir Fung as soloist. As for the Chinese content, we’re hearing the last of Wang Xilin‘s Yunnan Tone Poems of 1963, the Torch Festival. Then Mindy Meng Wang takes centre stage with her guzheng for the 1959 Butterfly Lover’s Concerto by Chen Gang and He Zhanhao; it was originally conceived as a violin concerto and I don’t know how it will sound on a zither. Anyway, the night ends with a piece by Julian Yu: an orchestral setting of Jasmine, that haunting Chinese folk song used by Puccini in Tudandot to moving effect on its first appearance in Act 1 when the boys start singing La, sui monti dell’Est. Tickets range from $75 to $127, with concession prices $5 cheaper; hooray. You have to stump up a $7 transaction fee if you order your ticket/s; pretty unavoidable as this event is very popular. God rot all money-grubbers.

MARKIYAN MELNYCHENKO AND RHODRI CLARKE

The Weiland Project

Primrose Potter Salon, Melbourne Recital Cntre

Sunday February 22 at 5 pm

The second violin/piano recital inside a week and with a similar bent. Where Jack Liebeck and Kristian Chong are playing all the Brahms violin sonatas on February 17, this evening/gloaming violinist Markiyan Melnychenko and pianist Rhodri Clarke are presenting four sonatas by Douglas Weiland, the British composer who was a foundation member of the Australian String Quartet and who was fortunate enough to find in one of his colleagues there, William Hennessy, an indefatigable promoter of his music. The Violin Sonatas 1, 2 and 3 are concentrated in a particular few years of Weiland’s creative life. The first, Op. 26, was first performed in January 2000, the second, Op. 28, (which is originally listed for violin and harpsichord) in July 2000, and the third, Op. 29, in December 2001. Added to these scores, which come in at a bit over 45 minutes in performance, Weiland, who will be present, has recently written a work for Melnychenko based on Ukrainian themes in support of that nation’s struggles with a Stalinist revenant. Ticket prices are $75 full adult, $65 concession with the usual $4-$8.50 transaction fee added if you buy online or by phone. But then, it’s risky fronting up to the box office on the night because the Salon capacity is small and you tempt non-admission.

BARTON & BRODSKY

Melbourne Recital Centre

Elisabeth Murdoch Hall, Melbourne Recital Centre

Wednesday February 25 at 7:30 pm

With didgeridoo master William Barton as their guest, the Brodsky Quartet members – violins Krysia Ostostowicz and Ian Belton, viola Paul Cassidy, cello Jacqueline Thomas – are treading a fine line between their traditional fare and the most ancient music I know still to be heard. I’m assuming that Barton won’t take part in certain segments of this program: Purcell’s Fantasia on One Note in Three Parts of about 1680 (or is it his Fantasia in Three Parts upon a Ground ca. 1678?) and Fantasia in D minor also from about 1680, Janacek’s Intimate Letters String Quartet No. 2 of 1928, and Stravinsky’s Three Pieces for String Quartet (finished in 1914 but not published for eight years) although the advertising material suggests that Barton will be participating in this last. You can be fairly sure that he’ll be there for Peter Sculthorpe’s 1990 String Quartet No. 11, Jabiru Dreaming, which has an optional part for his instrument. He’ll also participate in Brisbane composer Robert Davidson‘s Minjerribah (2012?) depicting North Stradbroke Island and performed by Barton and the Brodskys in Auckland during March 2024. I doubt if there’s a role for him in Salina Fisher‘s 2017 Torino for string quartet alone and imitating sounds generated by the versatile Maori putorino instrument. Andrew Ford‘s Eden Ablaze String Quartet No. 7 of 2020 refers to the NSW township menaced by the 2019 bushfires and it was written for Barton and the Brodsky group. I can’t see much room for the digeridoo in the Irish tune She moved through the fair and hope that there’s none to distract from that superb lyric. But Barton himself wrote the final piece on this program: Square Circles Beneath the Red Desert Sand of 2020 which was partly commissioned by the Australian String Quartet. If you’re under 40, you can get a poor or middling seat for $49; full adult prices range from $79 to $139, concession holders paying $79 or $99 for a B Reserve or A Reserve. Everybody has to cope with the online/phone booking fee of between $4 and $8.50, depending on how much you’re prepared to pay for your place. Can’t advise on this one: don’t know how popular Barton and/or the Brodsky Quartet are.

FLEXIBLE SKY

Melbourne Chamber Orchestra

Elisabeth Murdoch Hall, Melbourne Recital Centre

Thursday February 26 at 7:30 pm

Something of an odd collection here. The Melbourne Chamber Orchestra plays under the customary direction of Sophie Rowell and its guest soloist will be guitarist Slava Grigoryan; all well and good so far. Proceedings begin with a new work by Joe Chindamo; well, there are plenty of those flying around (see ELISION above) and this is a welcome MCO commission. It could involve Grigoryan, or it might confine itself to the core string ensemble. The next does require him: Vivaldi’s Guitar (Lute) Concerto in D of 1731 with its moving central Largo of a mere 17 bars. Then comes a true deviation from the norm in a transcription of Beethoven’s Moonlight Piano Sonata No. 14, published by Polish arranger Jakub Kowalewski in 2014 and transposing all three movements up a semitone; the third movement has a laugh a minute. Reason is restored with Bartok’s Romanian Folk Dances in an orchestrated version, though probably not the composer’s own of 1917 which involves pairs of woodwind and horns. At last, we reach the title work, more or less. It was composed by Austrian guitarist Wolfgang Muthspiel, the original recorded in 2017 by Grigoryan and the Australian String Quartet. This is a Redux version which was, like the Chindamo, commissioned by the MCO and so the original quartet will be swollen somewhat. Finally, as we opened with an Australian work, so we close – with Matthew Hindson‘s Song and Dance, composed in 2006 and giving you exactly what it says – a song (largo) and a dance (allegro), in this instance for string orchestra. I don’t know why but the seating prices for this event are extraordinarily complicated. Full adult prices range from $75 to $150; concession and senior entry is somewhat less – from $55 to $135; full-time students and children pay a flat $30; Under 40s can get a poor or middling spot for $40; and groups of 10+ will front up anything between $60 and $120 each. Also, you know that the Recital Centre has its claws out for your $4-to-$8,50 transaction fee if you book online or by phone.

This program will be repeated on Sunday March 1 at 2:30 pm.

A deft fusion

BACH TO CHINA WITH YU

Julian Yu

Move Records MD 3474

Much of this latest volume of works by Julian Yu involves clarinet, violin and cello. In fact, Robert Schubert‘s clarinet features in each of the four varied elements on the CD, as it has on two previous Move Records publications that present the composer’s chamber music involving that instrument. Also appearing here are pianist Akemi Schubert, violinist Yi Wang, and two well-known cellists in Virginia Kable and Josephine Vains.

Now, to content. The album starts and ends with Bach, whose music enfolds Yu’s arrangements of 24 Chinese Folksongs (some of which also contain Bach snippets) and two tracks of Dances from the XII Muqam, a collection of traditional Uyghur melodies. As anticipated, the longest of these four compositions is the assemblage of folksongs, but Yu fans will have heard these some years ago – 2019, to be exact – when pianist Ke Lin recorded the composer’s 50 Chinese Folk Songs. As far as I can see, Yu has revisited 22 of his original 50 and transcribed them for Schubert, Yi and Vains; the two odd-persons-out are Su Wu Tends the Sheep and Wild Lily.

As I said, there’s some Bach included in the folksongs as Yu elects to employ some of this composer’s bass-lines (and those from other composers) as supporting material for his collated melodies. Some of these interpolations are easy to find; others escaped identification by this willing listener.

Beginning with a solid slab of Western music, Yu has arranged the Chaconne in D minor from the Violin Partita BWV 1004, written sometime between 1717 and 1720. He’s not alone in this exercise and admits to drawing on transcriptions by Mendelssohn (who wrote a piano accompaniment for the piece), Schumann (who did the same), Busoni and Raff (who both did simple piano transcriptions, although the latter also made a version for full Romantic orchestra), and Brahms (a splendid version for piano left-hand). In this performance, we hear Schubert, and the string partnership of Yi and Kable for the only time on this CD.

As for the ending, we hear the organ Passacaglia in C minor for organ BWV 582 from sometime between 1706 and 1713. Yu gives us the famous bass line on the cello but has dilated the first note of each bar to a dotted minim, so the time-signature changes from 3/4 to 4/4. On top, the composer introduces scraps from arias and instrumental interludes heard at the Peking Opera; some are original, some Yu-composed. In all, we hear about twelve variations – down on Bach’s twenty – and the results prove to be disarmingly deft.

But you could say that about the whole set of 28 tracks. The arrangements are clever in conceit and clear in texture, if only rarely arresting. As you’d anticipate, the most challenging work comes first with the Chaconne. Yu begins in orthodox fashion with clarinet and cello outlining the eight bars of basic material before the piano enters discreetly with some melodic and harmonic reinforcement. All three are in operation with few signs of disturbance until we reach bar 25 where Schubert takes the melody line and elaborates it into a semiquaver pattern while clarinet and piano take on the chordal punctuation.

From here on, the central melody is shared between all three players while the re-composer begins to add flourishes, distinctly new lines, all the while indulging in some neatly dovetailing klangfarbenmelodie. We come to a slower oasis at bar 77 when the clarinet takes over from the semiquaver-addressing piano, giving us a calmer ambience which lasts up to the arpeggio direction of bar 89 which the piano takes on board and follows with a general attention to the written notes, apart from a few deviations, the whole fraught sequence winding up with a powerful bass line of striding quavers from cello and piano which is not in the score but makes a remarkably Brahmsian lead-in to the D Major reprieve at bar 133.

This is taken at a slow pavane speed and Yu recycles the opening variation of this segment as a subordinate component while gradually building up intensity with the piano adding more arpeggiated ferment, until the reversion to the minor key, at which point the piano disappears and clarinet and cello play the first two variations from this point by themselves, a few triple-stops from the original falling by the wayside. The piano gets an attack of the triplets well before they should turn up in bar 241 but by this stage we’ve been treated to so much linear displacement that the prepositioning hardly raises any eyebrows.

And so to the final peroration which is given with more late Romantic magniloquence in the best Busoni tradition. Also in something of an arranger’s tradition, Yu fleshes out that final noble single D with a full chord. So do Schumann, Mendelssohn, Raff and Busoni (who indulges himself with a tierce). The solitary exception is Brahms, who consents himself with three massive octave Ds – a man who knew when to leave well enough alone.

I heard the folksong Su Wu Tends the Sheep with more interest than most because it concerns a real person: a 2nd-to-1st BC diplomat who was detained on a mission for 19 years and put to menial work while under what amounted to imprisonment. The melody is here given mainly to the violin, the clarinet a late entry to the mix. But the message is clearly one of longing (for the homeland?) even in the middle of pastoral solitude – or so I feel about what is a warm, even sentimental lyric.

The other novelty in this collection is Wild Lily from the Shanxi province. A simple melody in four phrases, Yu sets it simply enough for violin with clarinet discordant underpinning, then again where the clarinet bears the melody while the cello accompanies in an atonal language – nothing too savage in either half, only single notes but deliberately at odds with the tune’s simplicity.

As for the other 22 elements in this collection, I refer you to my review of Ke Lin’s Move Records performances of the 50 Chinese Folksongs back in 2019. I believe I commented on all of the others treated here and have nothing new to add apart from predictable remarks about the new settings’ timbres. The same problems still apply: the arrangements are brief (eight of them are under a minute long, including Wild Lily) and, after a while, they fuse, so that it’s hard to distinguish between something as well-known as Jasmine (thanks to Puccini’s Turandot) and Willows Are New.

Fusing his Chinese melodies with the West, Yu uses a Handel bass to underpin the Mongolian melody Gada Mailin, then a Bach quotation from the B minor Mass in Picking Flowers. A more original device comes in Little Cabbage from the Hebei province where the cello picks out the vegetable’s name notes for underpinning; this probably works well because of the resultant motif’s pentatonic nature. More difficult to discern was the quotation from Brahms’ Symphony No. 4 during Lan Huahua, although Yu made it easier for us by opening A Rainy Day with the first eight bars to this symphony’s Passacaglia.

It’s back to the B minor Mass for the Sichuan tune Jagged Mountain, clarinet and cello presenting it in turn even if it tended to throw the melody into the background. An outburst of familiarity came with the Shaanxi air A Pair of Ducks and a Pair of Geese which enjoyed the bass-line on which Pachelbel constructed his mellifluous Canon in D, beloved of wedding-organizers. Also easy to pick up was the use of the left-hand to the Goldberg Variations‘ opening statement during Taihang Mountains.

But we encountered more difficulties with Willows Are New, during which Yu employed some famous Bach motifs that went straight past this bat into a no-doubt-contemptuous keeper’s gloves. But I recognized at least one of the Brahms Symphony No. 1 bursts that supported the medley of three Shanxi and Shaanxi folksongs and that was the chorale spray that climaxes the finale at bar 407. However, the impact of the German master’s rich chromaticism made the track surprisingly Western/European, a factor that also struck me in the last of the collection, Thunder a Thousand Miles Away, which seemed to be a mix of three-part invention and (limited) fantasia.

But so what? Yu’s compositional career has been informed by his homeland and further education here; the least you’d expect is a happy relationship between the two ‘schools’, as we find on this disc. Still, he strikes the same problem as most other writers when dealing with the material for his Three Dances from the Uyghur people of Xinjiang: the tunes are finite and the changes you can ring on them present challenges beyond simple repetition in new timbres. The first dance is extensive, showing a good deal of inventiveness in edging the basic material in several directions, made all the more difficult by the number of repeated notes involved, especially in the piece’s middle pages.

More surprising was the character of the melody which seemed to share characteristics with the folk music from various countries as collected by Bartok and Kodaly than with the 24 folksongs sitting alongside it on this CD. Yu grouped his second and third dances together; well, sort of: the tempo increases for the third which concludes in an almost Rossinian galop. Oddly enough, only in these dances did you come across faint cracks in the trio’s ensemble work, mainly due to slight hesitations about entries and the delivery of some pretty simple syncopations.

For organists, Bach’s big Passacaglia and Fugue are impregnable musical fortresses. You can’t really take exception to Yu’s employment of its bass progression for his own composition, but he is operating with a melodic and harmonic pair of palettes that are very limited when compared to the original. That said, you can take pleasure in Yu’s interweaving upper voices, particularly if you can keep out of your mind the monumental welter that straddles your consciousness from bar 144 to the end of the great organ construct. And, as the poet says, a man’s reach should exceed his grasp and this CD is witness to Yu’s high level of ambition.

Diary January 2026

FESTIVAL OPENING CONCERT – GLORIA!

Ballarat Organs & Fine Music Festival

St Patrick’s Cathedral

Friday January 9 at 7 pm

It’s all different up the Western Freeway since I’ve been away in the north. This festival has undergone a name change as well as a revamp in administration with long-time artistic directors Sergio di Pieri and Judith Houston gone, replaced by gamba exponent Laura Vaughan. As well, the time-line has been compressed so that it now runs for half of its previous length. And the geography has closed in so that events are limited to the city of Ballarat, with two day-time events in both Clunes and Creswick – nothing to the south. And the number of concerts/recitals has shrunk to 12, with the Festival al fresco Breakfast continuing as an extra-numerary. As usual, we have a celebratory opening event which this year involves the Consort of Melbourne, Consortium of viols, Unholy Rackett, with Donald Nicholson playing harpsichord and Nicholas Pollock on theorbo; Steven Hodgson, the Consort’s director, seems to be in charge of this amalgamation. No specifics are available but the names of Schutz, Hassler and Praetorius are being bandied around, with the promise of multi-choral polyphony. The concert lasts for 70 minutes, promising an early night for everybody – a welcome relief for this largely local audience. Students pay $10, concession holders $35, adults $45; if you want the post-concert supper, it’s $10 extra. The booking fee ranges for 75 cents to $1.88 – so why is this impost so cheap in the country and so monstrously expensive in Melbourne?

THE SINGING PIPES – MUSIC OF HANDEL, BACH, HAYDN & BEYOND

Ballarat Organs and Fine Music Festival

St. John’s Anglican Church, Creswick,

Saturday January 10 at 11 am

This recital is being given on the church’s Fincham and Hobday instrument by Rhys Boak, resident music genius in St. Michael’s Uniting Church, Collins Street. The organ was relocated from the Wesleyan (Uniting?) Church, Barkly St., Ballarat in 2016 and has a solid range of stops for its two manuals and pedal board. Boak is committed to five definite works in his hour-long program: the Overture to Handel’s Occasional Oratorio of 1745-6 without the original trumpets and drums; Bach’s towering Prelude and Fugue in A minor BWV 543 from the Weimar years 1708-13; Haydn’s Eight Pieces for Musical Clocks from anywhere between 1772 and 1793; Mozart’s Minuet in D – possibly K. 355/576b from possibly 1789/90; and contemporary Hungarian Zsolt Gardonyi‘s 1995 jazz-inflected Mozart Changes based on the final movement to K. 576. As well, pieces by J. K. F. Fischer, John Stanley, and Theodore Dubois are promised which fleshes out some odd corners very neatly. Tickets follow the opening concert’s lead – $10, $35, or $45, depending on your age and/or career stage.

BAAZ AVAZ – ON THE SILK ROAD

Ballarat Organs and Fine Music Festival

Creswick Town Hall

Saturday January 10 at 2 pm

So it’s off to Persia and a recital involving music, dance and story-telling during which, somewhere along the hour-long expedition, we’ll doubtless meet up with the cry of the falcon mentioned in the event’s title. Four participants present this amalgam: Vahideh Eisaei contributing vocal work as well as playing the qanun or large zither; Dong Ma on erhu or Chinese two-stringed fiddle which may have links to the (more topical for this recital) rehab; Elnaz Sheshgelani covering the stories and the dance components; and Yang Ying on pipa or Chinese lute which came to that country along the Silk Road. This is one of those occasions where you enter a world unfamiliar to most of us; my experience of Persian music has been confined to an Adelaide Festival recital many years ago from an ensemble playing court music – or so it was claimed. That’s the sort of cultural ignorance that a presentation like this seeks to remedy; it’s not all Omar Khayyam and Hafez or the AliQapu restaurant here in Kew. If you’re a student, you can get in for $10 plus a piffling booking fee of 75 cents; concession card holders ($35) and adults ($45) have to go on waiting lists because their allocations are sold out.

VERSAILLES IN LOVE

Ballarat Organs and Fine Music Festival

St. Paul’s Anglican Church, Bakery Hill

Saturday January 10 at 6 pm

Quite a lot of promises made for this non-specific 60-minute program which features a quintet of musicians, some of whom I know. Soprano Myriam Arbouz, baroque violinists David Rabinovici and Tim Willis, baroque triple harpist Hannah Lane, and theorboist Nicholas Pollock presumably combine and re-congregate in small groups to take us through works by Lully, his father-in-law Michel Lambert, and his student Marin Marais. Two specific forms are designated: the air de cour and chamber music – which is telling us nothing, except that the songs preclude the three composers named who all wrote airs of a different colour. As for the other, these musicians have a wealth of rich, magnificently mannered material from which to select; a pity they haven’t let us into their confidence about what we’d be paying for. Speaking of which, prices follow the usual pattern: $10 for students, $35 for concession holders, $45 for adults with a maximum booking fee of $1.63 and a minimum of 75 cents – almost seems pointless to charge it.

TELEMANN PARIS QUARTETS

Ballarat Organs and Fine Music Festival

Ballarat Performing Arts Centre, Soldiers Hill

Sunday January 11 at 2 pm

These works are being presented by the Coomoora Ensemble, apparently headed by baroque violin Lizzy Welsh (she writes on Instagram about ‘my delightful Coomoora Ensemble’, which strikes me as a pretty obvious statement of ownership. She’s accompanied on her sojourn into Telemann by Alison Catanach on baroque flute, Edwina Cordingley on baroque cello, and Ann Murphy playing harpsichord, as is her wont. It’s not clear if the ensemble can get through all twelve of the Paris quartets – six Quadri published in 1730, and six Nouveaux quatuors printed in 1738. In fact, I doubt if they could, given their recital’s 60 minutes time-span. I suspect that they’re attempting the latter, given that they refer to works composed during Telemann’s visit to the French capital in 1737-8. But then, all of them were written before he hit Paris, so they may be attempting a mixture. Whatever the case, this hour (possibly longer) will cost you $10 a student, $35 a concession holder (but not Seniors’ Cards, apparently), and $45 full adult, with a negligible booking fee ranging from $1.63 to 75 cents.

O FILII ET FILIAE – ORGAN SPLENDOUR OF THE (MOSTLY) FRENCH BAROQUE

Ballarat Organs and Fine Music Festival

St Paul’s Anglican Church, Bakery Hill

Sunday January 11 at 6 pm

Another solo organ recital to balance Rhys Boak’s one on Saturday January 10 in Creswick, this mixed collation lasting an hour is being presented by Donald Nicholson, showing us another side to his musical abilities after he has played harpsichord for the festival’s opening concert. Yet again, details are scant although he is sitting securely in a French gallery by performing works by Couperin, Louis Marchand, Jean-Francois Dandrieu and Nicolas de Grigny. For the first of these, I can find only two organ works, both mass settings; Marchand offers more, some of them formidable elements of the French repertoire; Dandrieu I know only through his Noels but he did write an Easter offertory, published in 1739, based on the plainchant that gives this event its title; de Grigny is celebrated for his only publication – a Premier livre d’orgue from 1699 which has a preponderance of church music in it. Just to offer a change of diet, Nicholson will also play some pieces by Buxtehude to offer a ‘dash of fiery North German contrast’ – just what those French formalists need. Ticket prices follow the usual $10, $35, $45 pattern (student, concession, adult) with a small booking fee too minute to outline, too inconsiderable to make any difference to anybody.

FOUNDATION OF FANTASIE

Ballarat Organs and Fine Music Festival

St. Paul’s Anglican Church, Clunes

Monday January 12 at 11 am

For this excursion to the book-driven town of Clunes, lutenist Rosemary Hodgson and organist Jack Stacey are attempting to draw some parallels between Renaissance architecture and the period’s music. Terrific, and good luck with that. Their 60-minute presentation centres on the works of Alonso Ferrabosco the younger who performed for Elizabeth I and Hodgson is playing all seven of the composer’s extant fantasias, leavening this core with side-steps to vocal intabulations, passamezzi and pavans. An intriguing venture, although the fantasias look to me as being more suited to a chest of viols than a lute, mainly because of some sustained notes that a soloist (apart from an organist) can’t manage. You’re invited to find similarities between the cleanness of form and structural balance of a building from this time in the clarity and formal integrity of the Elizabethan viol composer’s works. As I read things, Stacey is to provide a solo on the church’s organ at the start of the recital but I can’t find anything by Ferrabosco for that instrument; in this case, a Hamlin & Son rarity that sits in remarkably close relationship to the church’s acoustic properties, as I remember from over a decade ago – since which time (2018) the instrument has been restored extensively. The usual entry costs apply: $10 a student, $35 for concession holders, $45 an adult, all with small booking fees that probably won’t put patrons off.

REEDS & RESONANCE – MUSIC FROM THE GOLDEN AGE OF THE BASSOON

Ballarat Organs and Fine Music Festival

Clunes Town Hall

Monday January 12 at 2 pm

This hour-long entertainment brings back some of the opening concert’s contributors: Nicholas Pollock resumes his theorbo and adds a Baroque guitar, while the Unholy Rackett group is identified as Simon Rickard, Brock Imison and Jackie Newcomb, all manipulating curtals and their namesake instrument. Also involved is triple harpist Hannah Lane, returning after her Love in Versailles participation on January 10 and the festival’s director Laura Vaughan consorting with her gamba. And this is one program where you know exactly what is being presented: a Sonata for four trombones from the Op. 22 collection of 1655 by Biagio Marini; two pieces from the Canzone, fantasie e correnti of 1638 by Bartolome de Selva y Salaverde in the soprano and bass song Vestiva hi colli passaegiatto and a canzon for two tenors (trombones?); a set of variations on La Folia by Antonio Martin y Coll from Volume V of his 1706 Flores de musica; Giovanni Bertoli’s 1645 Sonata settima that one would assume was for the bassoon, which was his instrument; Kapsberger’s Tenore del Kapsberger from the 1604 Volume 1 of his Intavolatura di chitarone, plus the Bergamasca and Canario from the Intavolatura Volume 4 of 1640; from Il primo libro de balli of 1578, Giorgio Mainiero’s La lavandera/Caro ortolano, probably for a rackett; the 1609 setting of Es ist ein’ Ros’ entsprungen by Praetorius; two anonymous songs in Vos senora, a maltratada and the Portuguese Renaissance lyric/laugh Nao tragais borzeguis pretos, both played on curtals by the Racketts; Machado’s Dos estrellas le siguen which I have come across as a four-part chorale-type invention from the Cancionero de la Sablonara of 1624/5; finally, Daniel Speer’s first (only?) two Sonatas for two violas published in 1697 and hisSonata for three bassoons (C Major or F Major?) which I believe comes from the same year. Anyway, tickets follow the usual costings: students $10, concession $35, adults $45 plus a nonsensical booking fee of minute proportions, although still a nuisance to fork out.

DARKNESS AND DELIGHT – JERRY WONG

Ballarat Organs and Fine Music Festival

Ballarat Mechanics’ Institute, Sturt St.

Monday January 12 at 6 pm

A 60-minute recital from the Head of Keyboard at the Melbourne Conservatorium of Music is a singular surprise in this festival line-up. Jerry Wong hasn’t detailed what he is going to present, like so many contributors to this enterprise, but he opens a pretty wide door by introducing certain names as contributing agents. There’s Bach, Beethoven, Liszt – and Miriam Hyde, as a kind of satisfaction for our nationalistic yearnings. But the evening’s title gives an immense scope, as all of these composers have dealt with both the highs and lows of human experience. Still, it’s always worth your while listening to an artist of Wong’s calibre and, if the names strike you as promising, then you can get in for the usual fee: adults $45, concession holders $35, students $10, and the small booking fee that nevertheless nags like an itch in the middle of your spine.

MEDITERRANEAN – ELISABETTA GHEBBIONI

Ballarat Organs and Fine Music Festival

Loreto College Chapel

Tuesday January 13 at 11 am

Starting the festival’s final day comes Italian harpist Elisabetta Ghebbioni, a veteran performer at this festival and a professor at the Benedetto Marcello Conservatory in Venice. As is characteristic of so many performers in these Ballarat days, her program is unknown, even if her publicity refers to a few names: Albeniz, Saint-Saens, Einaudi ‘and others’. The first of these will probably involve an arrangement because I can’t find any harp works by Albeniz. Saint-Saens has a solo Fantaisie from 1893 and a 1918 Morceau de concert but nothing else relevant or practicable (apart from more arrangements). As for Einaudi, I assume this artist will be playing pieces from his album Stanze of 1992, although he has endorsed arrangements of some piano works for the harp. By the way, Einaudi is visiting Melbourne next month, playing at the Myer Bowl. Still, what information there is on this recital seems – even in this context – a bit vague, while Ghebbioni’s screed in the festival bumf is too brief to be of much use to anyone. Tickets for this event will be the same as all the others at the centre of this festival: $10 a student, $35 a concession holder, $45 full price, with the nugatory booking fee attached, increasing slightly as your price goes up. But, doing dutiful research, I couldn’t get on to the booking site – Error 404 made its entry for no apparent reason.

SUITES & SONGS

Ballarat Organs and Fine Music Festival

St. Paul’s Anglican Church, Bakery Hill

Tuesday January 13 at 2 pm

Cellist Josephine Vains is at the centre of this recital, although Jack Stacey is again going to preface proceedings with a solo on the church’s J. W. Walker organ, and why not? He’s this church’s organist. You’d have to assume that we’re going to hear at least part of a Bach cello suite; it’s also possible that we’ll hear all or part of one of the three Britten suites written for Rostropovich. Also mentioned in the publicity material is Gabrieli, whose cello works escape me; perhaps Stacey will kick in with some support here for – what? Then another one of the festival’s few dives into the vernacular with Ross Edwards; possibly Prelude & Laughing rock from 2003, or perhaps Monos I from 1970. As well, we’re to hear some Casals, who wrote a fair few works for cello, as you’d expect, but they all involve piano accompaniment; the Song of the Birds from 1941 might enjoy a sentimental visit. It’s all up in the air but tickets run through the familiar format: students pay $10, concession holders $35, and full adult tickets cost $45, all with a handling fee, which I assume only applies if you book on line.

FESTIVAL CLOSING CONCERT – SONGS OF LIGHT & DEVOTION

Ballarat Organs and Fine Music Festival

St. Patrick’s Cathedral

Tuesday January 13 at 6 pm

The subtitle to this final program is Life, Death & the Passion of 17th Century Italian Music; you can’t expect more in a concert than enjoying the two great existential fag-ends and, when you add in the Italian Baroque – be still, my beating heart. As usual, nothing specific is set down, nothing as vulgar as a set program, but we have some insinuations. For instance, we will definitely hear some late sacred music by Monteverdi; pieces from the 1641 Selva morale e spirituale, you’d reckon, or some scraps out of the Messa et salmi of 1650. As well, we can expect one (or more?) of the sacred oratorios by Luigi Rossi, with perhaps some extracts from the famous one for Holy Week whose provenance is even now questionable. Also, there will be a psalm setting or two from Giovanni Rigatti; there’s plenty to choose from as he published them across his brief career in 1640, 1643, 1646 and in the year of his death: 1648. Another name is Domenico Mazzocchi, famous for his motets so there should be a couple sung here, like the Videte et gustate published in 1664. Stephen Grant will be directing (as well as singing bass), principally his e21 Consort, but also Stephanie Eldridge and Lizzy Welch on baroque violins, Linda Kent at her harpsichord, John Weretka seated at (probably) a chamber organ, Hannah Lane bringing her triple harp into play for the third time this festival, and overall director of everything during these past days, Laura Vaughan plays both her gamba and a lirone. Tickets are currently unavailable on the usually reliable Humanitix website – not the best of omens. But I’d anticipate that they mirror those for the opening night and everything else – $10 for students, $35 for concession holders, $45 for adults with the by-now traditional small booking fee that seems to be necessarily attached to any event for which you either book online or pay by credit card.