Last Friday night I lay at the feet of the Adelaide Symphony Orchestra, soaking in some truly beautiful and soothing music. Sanctuary Series 1, “Fragmentation” at Grainger Studio was an hour-long performance by the ASO. Neither perched high above the orchestra in the balcony at the Festival Theatre, or in the glorious Town Hall, at eye level with the feet of the violinists, we were invited to join the ASO in its rehearsal space on Hindley Street on a yoga mat. After some muted shuffling, as the audience settled onto seats at the back of the room or alternately on yoga mats in the middle of the floor, we were advised about the importance of silence at this event. There was to be no clapping between pieces, not even at the end. No loud noises from the audiences (snoring, perhaps?) and definitely no mobile phones. Fair enough, Standard procedure for any concert. But for me, the setting and the casual nature of the yoga mats was a first. It was as if the orchestra had moved into my living room.
So, I watched in eager anticipation as the orchestra crept quietly into their seats, followed by Conductor (and cellist) David Sharp. As the orchestra sat unmoving, Sharp stood in front of the podium, facing the orchestra. Not a word was spoken. The silent minutes ticked on. Eventually, the First Violin rose, and Sharp moved onto the podium. Again, total silence.
Then, suddenly, we were immersed in sound, as a dozen instruments tuned up. Then silence again. The lights dimmed. It felt as if everyone were holding their breath.
Now, before I go any further, I would like to warn you that I am not a musician, and nor will this be a sophisticated music review. I love listening to music, I love to sing. I played the recorder in Primary School. I played Classical Guitar in High School. Badly. I am less than an amateur. I sing by ear because I cannot read music fluently. Yet, despite my ignorance, Friday night’s performance was such a joyful experience, I needed to share it with you. And it has led me into a fascinating exploration of some musicians and composers of whom I had never heard.
Before the orchestra arrived, I had a s short conversation with the woman beside me. She was obviously an old hand to these alternative performances. Armed with rugs and cushions, she arranged herself comfortably on her blue mat. I found myself wondering if she had brought a picnic, too. And I must admit, by the end of the performance, I was envying her planning. Yet, even without cushions and rugs, the experience was fabulous. If any of my fellow listeners on their yoga mats fell asleep, at least no one snored. I was worried I might, but in fact I was so enveloped in the music and in the moment, I felt no inclination to doze off.
The orchestra was in good hands, as David Sharp, like my neighbour, had done this before. With a tiny flick of his fingers, the show began, with a lovely piece from Italian Composer Salvatore Sciarrino, called Languire a Palermo (2018). I floated off in a hammock of soft, soothing sound. Languishing is perhaps not the right descriptor though, as it was more somnolent than enervated. A post-prandial doze in a deck chair after a long summer lunch on a patio in Tuscany, springs to mind. At least until the double bass started gently rubbing the strings with his bow, like a cricket. Initially an interesting effect, it soon palled and became more reminiscent of that night-time mozzie buzzing round your ear. Sadly, for me, it then began to distract me from the rest of the orchestra. Nonetheless, it was a compelling and
Sciarrino, 76, is an autodidact from Palermo, Sicily, who now lives in Città di Castello, Umbria. His career has been long and varied. Since teaching himself music as a child, he has gone from composer to student to teacher to writer, to artistic director, and during that journey he has won many awards.
The second piece was Siegfried Idyll by Wagner, a piece he composed as a birthday gift for his second wife, Cosima, and presented to her on Christmas Day 1870. I uncovered this story with delight.
Cosima Liszt (yes, Franz’s daughter) was born on 24th December, but apparently she always celebrated on Christmas Day. And just to make it an even more memorable celebration that year, they had married in Lucerne the previous summer. Wagner had met Cosima as a teenager, but they didn’t fall in love till later, unfortunately when they were both married to other people. Nonetheless, they got together and produced three children. At the time it was a scandalous affair, but presumably their wedding in August 1870 gave it a seal of respectability. Although Wagner wrote Siegfried Idyll specifically for his new wife – using five woodwind, three brass instruments and a string quintet – he was later forced to sell the music to raise much-needed funds, first expanding it for 35 instruments, which is the piece we heard.
The third piece, The Persistence of Memory, came from our home-grown composer, Graeme Koehne, presumably based on Dali’s painting of the same name. Head of Composition at the Elder Conservatorium of Music, Koehne was appointed as an Officer of the Order of Australia (AO) in 2014, “for distinguished service to the performing arts as a composer of chamber, concert and ballet music, and through substantial contributions as an educator and arts administrator.”
In 1931, Salvator Dali produced that strange and surreal painting, “The Persistence of Memory,” in which he explored the idea of time. According to critiques I have read on the painting, time is an illusion and has different meanings for different people. This painting reflects varying perspectives of time and memory, and speaks to the subconscious, to that ephemeral state between sleep and awake, as we drift off.
Koehne’s version, written in 2014, is an elegy for oboe and strings, and I presume Koehne has tried to mirror the themes of the painting in this short piece. Only ten minutes long, it was first performed by the Tasmanian Symphony Orchestra and its Principal oboist and soloist David Nuttall. It was written in memory of Guy Henderson, who was principal oboe of the Sydney Symphony Orchestra from 1967-1998. Tonight, our soloist was Joshua Oates, who has been Principal Oboe of the Adelaide Symphony Orchestra since 2020. Oates started out as an undergraduate at the Elder Conservatorium of Music Adelaide with Celia Craig, graduating with first class honours. He has worked with orchestras across Europe, won prizes and scholarships and is apparently an avid chamber musician. And this hauntingly beautiful piece was my favourite, soft as an evening breeze.
Gavin Bryars, born in 1943, is an English composer and double bass player. He has worked in jazz, free improvisation, minimalism, historicism, avant-garde, and experimental music. This slow and melancholy piece – The Porazzi Fragment – is based on an elegiac piano theme composed by Wagner more than a century earlier and completed less than a year before he died. Wagner’s wife Cosima noted that it represented his “last musical thoughts”. On his website, Bryers has this to say about it:
Commissioned by the Primavera Orchestra, and designed for the orchestra’s string formation (11 violins, 4 violas, 4 celli and 2 basses), this piece for strings alone originates in an enigmatic, and unpublished, 13 bar musical theme.
He also says that “the original Wagner music emerges eventually towards the end of the piece.”
And I realise in retrospect that there was a Mediterranean theme to this evening’s programme, as we travelled from Sicily to Spain and back to Sicily, with a strong Wagnerian influence woven through. Anyone for a glass of Tempranillo, or perhaps a Nero D’Avola? Just give me five minutes to get up from the floor…
*With thanks to Google Images