Why isn't the music enough? “Silence and Rapture” from the Australian Chamber Orchestra

The Australian Chamber Orchestra, which has been performing under the aegis of director Richard Tognetti for over 30 years now, is widely celebrated for its performances and has a large enthusiastic following. While the repertoire for a chamber orchestra is somewhat circumscribed, the ACO has maintained a wide range of programming, with some criticism of a procrustean approach of bulking out, for example, string quartets or slimming down large-scale works.  Of recent years it has been fattening up its performances with thematic scenarios enhanced with visual extravaganzas and, in the current example, dancing. There has been little adverse criticism of the ACO’s actual musical performances, so one has to wonder why the music isn’t enough. 

The programme “Silence and Rapture” comprises a pairing of Baroque composer Johann Sebastian Bach and contemporary composer Arvo Pärt. This is not all that surprising in itself, as a perceived connection between the 18th century and modern music goes back to Stravinsky. Some of the juxtaposition here however seemed unexpected, to say the least. The performance was divided into sections, headed Prelude; Hope and Temptation: Garden of Eden; Tragedy and Passion: Garden of Gethsemane; Redemption: Garden of Heaven; Into Silence. In each, works by Bach alternated with those of Pärt; some were purely instrumental and some were sung by highly esteemed British countertenor Iestyn Davies on his first Australian tour. The dancing component comprised Liam Green and Emily Seymour from the Sydney Dance Company. 

The concert began with the musicians arrayed in a semi-circle on stage with a box at either end, the two dancers sitting on these boxes. The whole thing was conducted in an atmosphere of almost unrelenting stygian darkness with the occasional spotlit figure. The first item was Bach’s Kanon zu acht Stimmen (BWV 1072) followed naturally enough by the Toccata I from Pärt’s Collage on B-A-C-H. Both were played with clarity and precision, and one could perceive the relationship between them despite their different musical languages. Then followed the first vocal item, the alto aria “Wer Sünde tut” from Widerstehe doch der Sünde (BWV 54), a fairly lively seeing off of the devil. Davies delivered with clear unforced tone, ringing high notes and immaculate phrasing. Unfortunately it was accompanied by the two dancers writhing around him, which was very distracting. The programme continued similarly, alternating Bach and Pärt, and orchestral and vocal pieces. The modern style dancing was mercifully absent from “Jesus ist ein guter Hirt” (from BWV 85) and “Erbarme Dich” (St Matthew Passion), but recurred relentlessly through the rest of the programme, culminating in a music-free dance segment (yes, the silence of the title).

“Erbarme Dich” was exquisitely sung, the only distraction being Davies having to stand on a box to do so. It was located in the “Garden of Gethsemane” section, and was followed by an orchestral piece by Pärt and then his arrangement of My heart’s in the Highlands. The programme tells us that this is a “lament for freedom of identity” in which “Pärt elevates a simple longing for country into a profound threnody”. I suppose it might work for some people, but for me, having grown up in a family with a sentimental attachment to Scottish traditional songs, it seemed quite inappropriate. The whole thing felt straining after profundity. The programme tells us that “only through silence can music connect with eternity”. I have no idea what that means, and the dancing, despite its lithe agility, conveyed nothing to me beyond a disturbing distraction. The ACO played beautifully, drawing sumptuous sounds from pieces like Pärt’s Für Lennart in memoriam, and Davies sang impeccably; that would have been sufficient for many of us.