THE QUEENSLAND ORCHESTRA
Maestro 7Rigoletto

Review by John Colwill

Emmanuel Plasson, Conductor
Elena Belfiore, Mezzo Soprano
Renée Louprette, Organ

The Maestro 7 (how quickly the year slides away) was a strange, even unsettling affair - at least from where I sat in S31 for The Queensland Orchestra conducted by Emmanuel Plasson.

Unsettling insofaras the acoustic of the Concert Hall that, until now I have raved about, didn't provide the surround sound I had experienced in seats closer to the stage; we'', noticeably not for the first two works.

The clarity of the refurbished hall was still there but everything was far removed and perceived as if filtered through Shéhérazade's veils.

I was not sure if the 'I' who sat there was experiencing a disembodied state. The long, unexplained delays at the very beginning of the concert were disquietening and the soloist's entrance for the first work of the evening, Ravel's set of three songs on texts by Tristan Klingsor - Shéhérazade - struck me as decidedly more ice maiden than exotic, Persian princess.

Elena Belfiore's rich, creamy, even voice was generally devoid of color other than rich and creamy. The word painting in Ravel's masterly score found little echo in her delivery.

I was somewhat reassured (from my quasi 'out of body' point of view, that is) that the applause for her and conductor, Emmanuel Plasson, had virtually ceased before they disappeared into the wings. It seemed more than I were not caught up in this performance of Ravel's exotic work. (I do adore this piece and remember being swept away by a performance to it by the Sydney Dance Company in the early '80s.)

I can't say the same about the audience response to The Queensland Orchestra's delivery of Scriabin's Symphony No 4. This Poem of Ecstasy, Opus 54 was greeted with great acclamation.

Though Plasson's long-limbed conducting is a little off-putting, his choppy, poking gestures at the orchestra paradoxically evinced long, sweeping lines and great effect.

I rather felt left out, though - a 'lot of work for little return' is what I penned in my program for both players and conductor. The power of nine horns and ringing trumpet (the work provided a resounding concerto for solo trumpet, Richard Madden) didn't sweep me out of my seat back in the Concert Hall and wash me with orgasmic ecstasy.

For me, Scriabin's score is a floating world of orchestral color and harmonic innovation. Only occasionally is it tethered by rhythmic drive and development. (Go Freud!) I (sadly) missed out on the visceral effect of the ending - described by the composer as "looking straight into the eye of the sun!".

Strangely and thankfully, the major work on the program did get to me in my small corner. Maybe, it was a case of familiarity engendering receptivity and affection but, right from the sweetness of TQO's strings and the richness of the solo wind melodies, I was there with Saint-Saëns and his Symphony No 3 but not in the magnificent way I had hoped for - still, I felt removed from the source.

One thing to say about those wind melodies, though - they needed much more energy to project through to the back of the house in orchestral tuttis.

Saint-Saëns is a genius of orchestration and manipulation of orchestral mood. His score is full of moments which engage the intellect, excite the emotion and soothe the spirit. The fragments he lays out for us in the opening satisfyingly congeal into the themes of the finale with the organ in full flight - yes, this is that famous Organ Symphony.

The moment when the organ (played by Renée Louprette (she also added to the color of the Scriabin score) first appears to support the string theme is like a balm and the transformation of that theme into full orchestra touches the heart and reminds me why music is such a powerful art form which these mere words can only just touch.

Sadly, for me on that Friday night at the QPAC Concert Hall, I didn't always feel that power.

John Colwill