Well, here we were on Saturday night, after eight years of a rather nomadic existence, as far as performance venues in Christchurch are concerned, back in the Town Hall with the city’s own wonderful Christchurch Symphony Orchestra.
Christchurch Town Hall reopening concert Photo: Deborah Rowe
On the previous weekend the venue’s operators, Vbase, opened the Town Hall up for the public, when apparently over 11,000 people turned up to see through it. Also during that weekend several Christchurch music groups helped to bring it to life by performing on the stage of the auditorium. I had the privilege, myself, of taking part in one of those performances, and the hour that we spent making music on that stage was certainly very special indeed, with hundreds of people stopping to enjoy, not just the building, but the spirit of the art of music, which really helped to bring it to life.
But on Friday and Saturday nights the first two real events proved beyond any doubt that Christchurch wants, needs and loves this venue. On Saturday night the prolonged cheers and applause that greeted the Christchurch Symphony’s CEO Gretchen La Roche’s “welcome back” announcement was truly overwhelming. It was just so great to be there!
As the African-American artist Romare Bearden once said “Art is the Soul of a People”, and I think that’s been proven by the way that very soon after the Christchurch earthquakes, empty street spaces became opportunities for artists with ‘gap-filler’ projects; and musicians were determined to thrive despite the lack of any suitable venues. I recall attending a piano recital by Michael Houstoun in a tent in Hagley Park with the helicopters still buzzing overhead. Then, by the time I returned to Christchurch after five years away, the Theatre Royal was back in action and that superb new venue called The Piano had opened; and now the Great Hall at the Arts Centre is also available. But nothing has seemed quite so significant in terms of the city’s recovery, as this reopening of the Christchurch Town Hall – and not just for the arts, but for the whole spirit and soul of the people.
Anyway, when the music got underway, it was appropriate that it started with a newly commissioned work by Christchurch composer Chris Cree Brown.
Chris Cree Brown: Phoenix
Chris Cree Brown Photo: Supplied
The new work was (also appropriately) titled Phoenix, and the way the opening ascending scales crept in quietly at the start really did, at least on this occasion, feel like a rising from the ashes. The piece then quickly bloomed into a fuller, more opulent texture that made superb use of, not only the acoustics of the auditorium, but the superb quality of the orchestra as well.
And what an improvement it was on the Wigram Airforce Museum or the Horncastle Arena where the sound would echo off distant walls, or subtle internal effects could often be inaudible. But on Saturday night everything was wonderfully clear and present.
Getting back to the music, Chris Cree Brown’s new piece certainly had a wide range of textures and a real sense of its own special sound-world. But I have to confess that, in the quieter central section, my attention did begin to wander. In fact, it was almost as if the composer was giving us an opportunity to reflect on the space we were in, to look around and to wonder at the last eight years. But then he brings us back into focus with an almost frightening climactic ending that seemed all too short as we revelled in the spectacular sounds that the orchestra was projecting.
Saturday night’s conductor, Benjamin Northey, demonstrated a totally detailed understanding of the score, as he always does with new or unfamiliar pieces, and he and the orchestra gave us a very cohesive and convincing performance. It’s not every new work that I’m keen to encounter again, but, given that RNZ Concert recorded the concert, I hope we’ll get further opportunities to hear this one again.
Stravinsky: The Firebird Suite (1919 version)
Of course, there’s also a certain amount of 'phoenix' imagery associated with Stravinsky’s Firebird, and even an element of rebirth at the end of the story.
This was an enjoyable performance of the 1919 suite, although sometime I’d love an opportunity to hear the full original 1910 version live in concert with its significantly larger orchestra.
On Saturday night Benjamin Northey conducted this work from memory, a further indication of how thoroughly he knows the scores that he conducts. And the orchestra responded with vitality and a real sense of flair. It seemed that every player relished the privilege of participating in this occasion. But, I’d also have to say that, to an extent, Benjamin Northey tends to control and polish everything to the last detail, so that, in places, I missed a certain degree of risk-taking. Even the wildly volatile Infernal Dance of King Kaschei seemed just a bit too ‘orderly’. I sometimes felt that I would have liked a bit more abandon in the big colourful episodes and for individual players in some of the solos to be allowed the freedom to phrase with more personality and imagination. On Saturday night, even as the Finale builds to its mighty, sonorous climax, again, the expansiveness in the final chord’s crescendo just felt ever so slightly held in check.
But I’m possibly being too picky, because overall, the orchestra gave us consistently glorious and sumptuous playing, and the atmosphere that individual players conveyed in the quieter episodes was superb, with some lovely wind solos especially in the Berceuse. And there’s also no mistaking the part that Benjamin Northey has played in bringing the Christchurch Symphony to their current impressive standard.
Mozart: Concerto for Two Pianos, K. 365 (1779)
The second half opened with Mozart’s Concerto for two Pianos, which dates from his early Salzburg years, and it’s a lively and, at times, almost humorous work.
In this performance we had two large modern grand pianos and a bigger string section than Mozart would have used, so it was very much a ‘modern instrument’ performance which lacked a certain period instrument edginess that we’ve become used to in this repertoire. And it was also a performance, as far as I’m concerned, of real ‘classical restraint’, especially evident in the smoothed-out string lines and overly mellow horns.
The two pianists were Michael Houstoun and Tony Chen Lin, and they too tended to hold Mozart’s rough-and-tumble a bit too much in check. Other than that, they made an interesting pairing, working well together, but also displaying some clear contrasts.
I couldn’t help feeling that Michael Houstoun came across as the current sort of elder statesman of New Zealand pianists, while Tony Chen Lin was the more rebellious newbie. This was evident in several ways; for example if Houstoun led with a phrase, its answer or repetition from Chen Lin tended to copy the phrasing and classical strictness; but when the order was reversed, Tony Chen Lin’s statement of a phrase might have a touch of individuality (some might call it Romantic phrasing or rubato), and then Michael Houstoun’s response tended to re-establish the classical ‘correctness’.
Mozart’s piano concertos are considered to be some of his finest compositions because of the sense of dialogue and drama between soloist and orchestra. This is even more the case with this double piano concerto because of the dialogue and argument between the two soloists. But the way they worked together in making a cohesive whole was also impressive. For example, a scale passage begun by one could be dovetailed into its continuation by the other with such a sense of delightful concord that, at times, I couldn’t help smiling. And this was especially the case in the last movement’s cadenza (presumably Mozart’s original – because he did write cadenzas for this concerto), where there was a sense of competitiveness as each player decorated a phrase with more complex figuration, with Chen Lin conveying a sense of the cheeky child and Houston calmly demonstrating that his maturity and experience could easily cope with the child’s challenges.
So, I found much to enjoy in this performance, even if an element of subtlety and restraint tended to dilute Mozart’s intended animation to some extent.
Benjamin Northey, Michael Houstoun & Tony Chen Lin at Christchurch Town Hall reopening concert Photo: Supplied by Tony Chen Lin
Christchurch Town Hall
While the stage crew reorganised the stage and removed the two pianos, Benjamin Northey spoke to the audience about being back in the Town Hall. He said that Australia, and even London have nothing as good. And from my experience there is certainly a lot of truth in that. Maybe the sight-lines for an orchestral concert are a bit problematic in parts of the Christchurch Town Hall auditorium, but I was as glad to be back in this hall as much as anyone. Its advantages far outweigh its problems and it was quite a buzz being part of the audience for this very special opening concert.
Respighi: Pines of Rome (1924)
It was a brilliantly savvy idea to choose Respighi’s Pines of Rome as the final work on this opening programme. And in this performance, which has similarly colourful and spectacular orchestration to The Firebird, I felt that Benjamin Northey really did allow every drop of the piece’s atmosphere to make its mark, with wonderfully paced story-telling and superbly judged buiding of climaxes. The more atmospheric episodes were absolutely spell-binding, and it included a recording of New Zealand native birds, in place of the specified nightingale, at the end of the third movement. Right from the start of the opening Pines of the Villa Borghese, there was a sense of Mediterranean sunshine and colour as well as grandeur and majesty as we entered into Respighi’s sumptuous sound-world.
And then, the tangible sense of awe and anticipation in the final movement, as the distant marching feet of the Roman legions approach on the Apian way, was absolutely breath-taking.
As that Finale reached its awe-inspiring climax, the orchestra was joined by The Town Hall’s magnificent Rieger organ along with twenty-five players from Woolston Brass spread across the choir stalls behind the orchestra. Respighi asks for six additional brass players for this, but I’m not complaining – the sound was absolutely stupendous; and the throbbing vibrations of the lowest of the organ pedals added something palpably physical to the effect.
And before the final shattering chord had died away, the entire audience was on its feet cheering, not only for the music that so graphically describes the Roman army as they arrive home in triumph, but for our own homecoming to a venue that truly signifies a major step forward since February 2011.
