Under the dynamic leadership of their Principal Conductor Gemma New, the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra offered a thrilling journey through the byways of twentieth century music, centred around Scriabin’s mystical Poem of Ecstasy, but with stops in New Zealand, Finland and the impressionist France of Debussy and Ravel. Originally premiered by this same orchestra in 1997, Kenneth Young’s Dance is intended as a “celebration of love and life” through dance rhythms. Opening with some questioning woodwind figures, it soon develops into its joyously brash theme, the strings cheerfully and virtuosically swinging and diving through it. Though some slight clouds emerge, they can’t keep Young’s spirit down for long in this ebullient work and it rises to its unashamedly tonal apotheosis.
The opening woodwind of Scriabin’s Poem of Ecstasy is of quite a different nature than Young’s, creating an entirely more languorous and mysterious mood. New took to Scriabin’s alternately perfumed and orgiastic soundscapes superbly, giving the piece an unceasing momentum and drive that made it seem shorter than its 25-minute length. Though not stinting on the hothouse romanticism, there was something Debussyian about the attention to individual tone colours between and beyond the surging strings. These sensuous swellings of sound were gloriously played in all their yearning phrases, always leading up to the edge of musical climax. Mesmeric solo violin playing from Vesa-Matti Leppänen illuminated the work’s quieter moments. Only a suspicion of muddy ensemble following the penultimate semi-climax slightly marred the overall effect. Organ, bells and all, the ending was quite an astonishingly rapturous wall of sound, New bring the work to its awaited climax with great panache.
The second half of the concert was given over to the world of myth and legends, Greek and Finnish. From the rear of the stage, the dream-like opening phrases of Debussy’s Syrinx floated sweetly out into the hall. The orchestra’s principal flautist, Bridget Douglas, impressed with both the purity and clarity of her tone. With a surprising range of dynamics and an active rubato, she encompassed nostalgia and pain, culminating in an almost drained feeling in the final phrases. It was surprising to hear a solo flute work included in an orchestral concert, but this was a welcome chance to highlight one of the orchestra’s finest instrumentalists.
Derived from a myth of creation, Sibelius’s Luonnotar tells the story of the daughter of the heavens and the formation of the sun, moon and stars. Somewhere between song and symphonic poem, there is certainly something primeval about its weird, craggy vocal lines and swirling orchestral figures. Madeleine Pierard surmounted its challenges easily, expertly placing the vocal line’s demanding intervals and soaring up to a high C-flat without any strain. With New and orchestra providing a suitably agitated underpinning, Pierard’s vocalisms evoked brilliantly the anguish of the character.
Despite the initial failure of the ballet it was intended for, Ravel’s score for the Ballets Russes’ Daphnis et Chloé soon began a new life in the concert hall. Ravel adapted the music into two orchestral suites, and here New brought the second suite to life, beginning in “Lever du jour” with an evocative and warm depiction of a sunrise, the orchestral playing luscious in tone. Douglas again made her presence felt with fluid flute solos, and the woodwind section evoked chattering birds though their whirling lines. Dynamic in the rhythm, New gave exciting verve and raw energy to the stunning conclusion of the “Danse générale”, bringing this enjoyable selection of twentieth century music to a close.
