breakfast euphemisms

Title: Sublime
Artist: Katie Noonan and the ACO
Venue: Angel Place Recital Hall
Genre: CLASSICAL
Format: LIVE CONCERT
Written on behalf of Music Web International

Author’s note: This review is presented here in its longer form which could be considered disagreeable to the ‘music critique’ genre for its use of imagery, rather than strict analysis. A shorter version (edited by Bill Kenny) is available at Music Web International and can be viewed by clicking here.

VAUGHAN WILLIAMS Five Variants of ‘Dives and Lazarus’
ELGAR Sospiri
ELGAR Introduction and Allegro, Op.47

As we find our way into the Angel Place Recital Hall in Sydney’s CBD, we are struck immediately by the sandy toned wood. Slight curves which reflect gradients off tungsten beams, leading eyes upward. The hall rises on all sides, accented with subtle stage lights across pillars to draw us back to the comparative modernity of such a space in such a city. The mingling sounds of a varied audience reverberate into sparks of excitement in the hollows you see above. An aural warmth encloses us as the lights move to a dim blue glow, centred on skeletal music stands and a wooden harp which complements the performance space.

A solo harp fills the void, lit only by a dim warmth that seems to illuminate a single vocalist, sombre at the front of the orchestra. The light creates as many shadows as it fills, and her vocal entry follows suit, tentatively rising to the upper galleries in aural angelics. The Australian Chamber Orchestra strings follow the beckoning call into a breathtaking solitude, our eyes centred on the soloist; Katie Noonan, her green and silver dress a dull sparkle in Martin Place’s musicological Ark. She returns our gaze with a smooth echoic melody, rising and falling between octaves like the slow pulsing roar of midnight bird calls. Revealing the opening piece at this descriptive stage seems almost redundant (He Wishes for the cloths of Heaven by Tavener) and revealing the title of the program appears even more so. Though a very tall order to fulfil, the sound of this ensemble truly is ‘Sublime’.

True to Tognetti’s introduction at the beginning of the concert, The Orchestra continues straight through into Elgar’s “Sospiri” which translates to the English word ‘sighs.’ It becomes apparent from the coupling of these two pieces that this is where the vocal and orchestra ensemble will lead us… through the romance and treachery of sighs and the palpitations of the English heart. The opening strings bring the audience to the quivering edge as layered countermelodies are woven in delicate subtlety by the orchestra. The gracefulness with which the Australian Chamber Orchestra constructs its ether simultaneously draws us in and holds us at bay. So much so that when the piece concludes, the audience is slow to break the suspense with applause.

As the room quietens once more, we hear the opening of Handel’s Si Pieta pi me non Senti from ‘Julius Caesar’ and Noonan does a fine job of remaining unobtrusive in the centre of the stage. Even when the piece reaches her entry, it is nestled within the string lines. While there was a beautiful unity in this technique, occasionally Noonan’s timbre shifted to an alternative range and these notes rang out more than was justified by mere dynamic expression. This could be due to the acoustics or the amplification of the concert, but the presence of these timbrel inconsistencies made her voice seem weak at times. It is the brighter notes which could perhaps be tamed, though the way in which she incorporated herself into the ensemble and sat within Tognetti’s direction was the mark of a true ensemble player. Even when there appeared to be no great visual communication between the two, it was evident that they were driving forward as one.

The true subtleties of a performance lie sometimes within the visual realm and in the case of the Australian Chamber Orchestra, the most prominent visual cue is that of Director and First Violin Richard Tognetti who at times, extends the limits of his flexibility to raise himself up with a pointed bow in the air. The rhythmic dance of a young director who has achieved great things for himself thus far. Special mention must also be given to Christopher Moore (Principal Viola) for his enthusiasm as he played to Tognetti’s bow-baton in parts, and to Noonan and Timo-Veikko Valve (Principal Cello) in others. He is no doubt a well versed orchestral performer. Specifically, the next piece of the Sublime program marks Tognetti’s first obvious shift to ‘conductor’ from ‘leader’, using his bow to mark entries with the other strings. In the pre-show talk, the presenter referred on multiple occasions to the ACO as a ‘band’ rather than an ‘orchestra’ which I found unusual however after seeing Tognetti move throughout Vaughan Williams’ Five Variants on Dives and Lazarus, stretching (and almost leaping) with modern exuberance, I began to see where the connection may be drawn.

In the age that we live in, it becomes increasingly difficult to let our minds rest purely on the aural level. Rather than learn from the early composers to listen intently as they did to such detail that many of them were then able to transcribe full scores from memory, we have shifted to the visuality of music. Today, society has built modern concert halls and new revolving operatic sets washed in the crimson colour that in olden days was reserved for royalty alone. Although it may seem foolish to say so within a review directed towards lovers of ’aural culture’, we cannot help but think cinematically about a score if it lends itself to visualisation.

Elgar’s Introduction and Allegro is the perfect example of such a piece when it opens with the edgy and foreboding violins. A programmatic difference incredibly executed by the Australian Chamber Orchestra, veracious masters of gesture and articulation. The extraordinary cello/double bass involvement in the opening carries us between the violin melodies in an evocative and stirring manner. Comparative to well known performances of this piece, The ACO treated these lower lines with subtlety; rather than overplaying the expressiveness it takes a back seat to the movement. While this may inhibit the feeling of movement that has undoubtedly been introduced elsewhere in the program, this reinforces the notion of dynamics for which the orchestra should be praised for. The sense of drama is awakened in our minds as we anticipate the tumult to come, through what is quite assuredly as titled, an ‘Introduction’, the ‘opening shot’ if one is to be so daring as to delve into cinematics to describe musicology. Elgar/Vaughan Williams’ piece fits perfectly into a program which centres on the voice of classical/pop diva, Katie Noonan. The clash of cinematic inspiration against the more traditional string orchestra sections of the allegro underlines the traditional disturbance of using an operatic range in popular music, or contemporary instruments used in a classical context.

Despite the fact that Tavener is a more contemporary composer, Holst’s I Sing of a Maiden seemed to be the first endeavour into a more modern tone, with vibrant strings and an anticipatory drone. A solo violin and double bass begin the piece, leading into an interjecting Principal Violin, counterpointing itself against the drone which rises into multiple harmonies with the use of natural harmonics and staggered entries. There is the feeling of a sea voyage as the staggered entries provide a subtle seafaring sway. Perhaps an alternative title to the program would have been ‘An English Journey’, reflecting a journey through the years from traditional English song to contemporary compositions. Certainly, this is where the second half of the concert seemed to lead us.

The first piece to illustrate such a chronological transition was a version of Jenny Wren, recorded by Paul McCartney in 2006 for his album Chaos and Creation in the Backyard. Noonan invited on guitarist Cameron Deyell for the first time. Unfortunately, his integration was less than smooth. As an instrumentalist of a different performance genre, he seemed to overpower the orchestra in volume, and where he pushed the beat, Tognetti appeared to be pulling it - a common discrepancy between Rock and Classical performers. Despite this inconsistency, the guitar was very well played and tasteful, a small blessing in a situation which could so easily have been ruined by crude rock guitar. Contrary to the guitar assimilation, Principle Double Bassist Maxime Bibeau adapted very well to the pizzicato style of the contemporary genre and along with Cellist Julian Thompson played the inconspicuous accompaniment role extremely well through the entire contemporary repertoire. Overall, I enjoyed Katie Noonan’s performance of this song despite having been disappointed with Paul McCartney’s album when it was released. Whereas McCartney’s album could be accused of sounding cheesy and dated, Katie Noonan’s voice brought a folk freshness to the repertoire. This was Katie Noonan in her element, and her ‘scat’ singing worked to further drive this notion home.

Many of the above comments could be made for all of the performances in the second half. After Jenny Wren, the guitar fitted much more snugly within the Chamber Orchestra setting with the Beatles’ Across the Universe. The vocals almost seemed to tie themselves to the solitude established in the opening piece by Tavener; Noonan’s classical training providing the versatility for which she is renowned. Following this song, Amy Winehouse’s Love is a Losing Game extended the orchestra into a more Funk/R&B based mode, with Cellist Julian Thompson using the wooden body of his instrument as the percussive drive. Nick Drake’s River Man brought out Tognetti’s arrangement from being the smooth, warm accompaniment of traditional cinematic scores into a more adventurous scalic ornamentation. The electric guitar took a back seat in favour of the harp; a clever and successful substitution.

The challenge of this performance, in the eyes of a contemporary reviewer, was always going to be the reproduction of the ethereal and moving song, How to Disappear Completely by Radiohead. The ACO and Katie Noonan rose to the challenge, using string harmonics and fragmentary pizzicato lines to bring about the sporadic and engulfing sound of one of Britain’s most successful contemporary artists. The harp substitution for the electric bass was a nice touch in the arrangement, but unfortunately the cello arrangements altered the mantra-like feeling of that continuous bass line by syncopating the rhythm. The original recording contains such continuity to act as a stable base for the more unpredictable instrumentation of the song, and altering this was, in my opinion, detrimental to the piece. Katie Noonan, with the assistance of some digital effects, was able to pull off the smooth element of Thom Yorke’s original, drawing much from the classical techniques she employed in the first set. This piece was by far the most well received of the concert, if audience applause can be considered an indication.

The last three songs of the concert were Sting’s A Thousand Years (drawing from Middle Eastern influences), David Bowie’s The Man Who Sold the World (undoubtedly influenced by American popular music) and Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah (written by an American, and made famous in the contemporary world by another American, Jeff Buckley). These songs, though extremely well performed, diluted the nature of ‘British Song’ as a core theme. However, they do serve to solidify the analogy of voyage, especially in terms of emphasising the effects of globalisation on popular culture.

Katie Noonan’s voice was angelic and powerful, reserved and tempered. She is without a doubt a consummate professional who knows when to take the limelight and when to take a back seat. Her sensitive interaction with the Australian Chamber Orchestra, which exhibits an extremely polished execution of dynamic range, made for a concert that was, in many ways, as it was advertised; purely sublime.

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