The unexpected grounding of Airbus A320s across the globe had an unlikely musical consequence in Auckland. With too many New Zealand Symphony Orchestra players stranded in Wellington after performing the same concert the night before, they were unable to summon the numbers to perform Bruckner’s monumental Seventh Symphony. In its place came a last-minute substitution that was more suitable to the forces available, in the form of Mozart’s Symphony no. 41 in C major, “Jupiter.” It is a tribute to the NZSO’s professionalism that such an abrupt programme change did not seem to rattle them. Still, one sensed that conductor Gemma New, usually an incisive and vivid interpreter, was not entirely able to bring her usual authority to the revised first half.
The first movement showed some unsettled balance, with some of the rapid descending figures slipping behind the orchestral texture, and the brass a bit tentative. The slow movement, with its beautifully muted violins, had moments of real warmth and beauty, yet the phrasing at times felt hesitant. Momentum started to build in the third movement, which had a welcome buoyancy and brought out a dance-like character in the music. By the finale, though, everything finally snapped into focus: New drew out the contrapuntal lines of Mozart’s fugue with clarity, the orchestra responding with cohesion and no small amount of verve. Repeats were eschewed throughout.
The second half belonged entirely to American superstar mezzo Joyce DiDonato, whose reputation as one of today’s foremost Berlioz interpreters proved wholly justified in an astonishing account of Les Nuits d’été. Fortunately, the song cycle’s modest orchestral forces meant this performance was untouched by the travel disruptions. From the lilting freshness of Villanelle, complete with delicately shaped bassoon solos, it was clear we were in the presence of a singer of extraordinary imagination and emotional depth.
The heart of the evening lay in the next five songs. DiDonato offered one of the most complete vocal performances I have encountered: never any sign of generic utterance, every phrase rooted in her deeply considered conception of how each song could go. This was nowhere more evident than in Le Spectre de la Rose, where the tone ravished on high and the words were coloured to suggest tragedy and ecstasy in equal measure. Sur les lagunes unfolded in tones of hushed desolation, her voice shading from tender recollection to moments of anguished desperation, with enough richness on the descent to the low note on “linceul”. In Absence, each cry of “reviens” was subtly different in its expression, carrying increasing ache and urgency. Au cimetière brought her chest resonance up surprisingly high in the voice, a touch of fear entering the timbre as she confronted the spectral presence of lost love. The closing L’île inconnue, lighter on its surface, gained subtle irony in DiDonato’s delivery, while New and the NZSO provided a buoyant and warm accompaniment.
After such emotional intensity, any encores could only feel somewhat anticlimactic. A knowingly Habanera from Carmen flirted with mannerism, while an idiosyncratic Over the Rainbow, lovely though occasionally fussy, allowed the orchestra to shine once more, especially in the sweeping string lines. While logistical obstacles almost meant this concert didn’t happen, it ultimately became a testament to the orchestra’s adaptability and artistry. If the Mozart failed to catch fire, DiDonato’s Berlioz offered more than enough power and radiance to carry the evening.
