Reviewed by Barry Lenny Saturday 27th September 2014
Although this year's OzAsia Festival officially ended last weekend, one event was scheduled for this weekend, and it was well worth waiting an extra week for a chance to attend this incredible event.
The Adelaide Symphony Orchestra was conducted by the composer,
Tan Dun, renowned for his film scores for such martial arts epics as
Crouching Tiger, Sleeping Dragon, in a new work,
Nü Shu: The Secret Songs of Women, a thirteen movement symphony with accompanying documentary micro films. Nü Shu is a secret language used by the women of Jiangyong County in the remote areas of Hunan Province. This, however, came after the interval.
The first piece of the evening was another of
Tan Dun's compositions, the
Symphonic Poem on Three Notes. Asked to write a piece for the 70th birthday celebration
for Plácido Domingo, he noticed that his first name broken down, Plá-ci-do, sounded like the three solfège pitches, La-Si-Do. It begins with the whisper of birds twittering, created by the strings, followed by those three notes on the tubular bells from the featured percussionist, Chenchu Rong. Her playing is a major part of this work, which includes an extended solo percussion section, as well as a requiring a considerable contribution from the orchestra's percussionists.
In the west we categorise instruments by type, strings, woodwind, and so on. The Chinese have a different system, categorising by the materials from which instruments are made and, so, Chenchu Rong is listed as playing metal percussion, gongs, cymbals, vibraphone, glockenspiel, and even three differently sized, suspended vehicle wheel rims.
The brass make their entry after the tubular bells state the theme, leading to a long percussive section, with 'screams' from the orchestra members rising and falling, and vocals are not the only unusual effects in this work. The low brass instruments are played by hitting the mouthpiece with the flat of the hand, giving a very unusual percussive popping sound, the strings are played col legno, and pizzicato, and the double reed instruments have plenty to do. Percussion is busy throughout, with a strong presence from the timpani.
The scoring starts thinly and builds to a heavier density before the solo percussion section and then, after the solo, it becomes almost hymnal briefly before the tubular bells reiterate the theme, with the voices returning as well, repeating Plá-ci-do as the piece comes to its conclusion.
To say that this work is complex and demanding would be an understatement but, at the same time, that challenge is worth accepting to present this remarkable piece that, in spite of the unusual techniques used throughout, is not novelty for the sake of it, but a work in which these fit perfectly to add to the percussive intricacies of the piece. The Adelaide Symphony Orchestra gave a superb performance under
Tan Dun's expert guidance, and how better to achieve authenticity than to be conducted by the composer, who knows exactly how he intended the work to sound.
This was followed by
The Miraculous Mandarin Op. 19, Sz. 73 (BB 82), the suite based on his one act ballet, by the Hungarian composer and pianist, Béla Viktor János Bartók, which is based on the story by
Melchior Lengyel. The suite contains around two thirds of the music in the eight scene ballet. Although the concert suite continued to be very popular, with many recordings available, recordings of the entire ballet score have only been a relatively recent phenomenon. Antal Doráti and the Detroit Symphony Orchestra played the ballet in its entirety in 1983, rekindling an interest in the full score. Interestingly, it is also his 1953 recording of the concert suite, with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, that is probably the best known. He was, of course, a friend of Bartók.
The ballet was highly controversial, and outraged many prudish patrons with its themes of sex and violence, which probably explains its short life at the time. The music, though, is wonderful, which is why the suite survived and grew in popularity.
Tan Dun thoroughly understands this work and drew forth from the Orchestra one of the best performances of this piece that I have heard and, being something of a favourite of mine, I have heard quite a few. Both of these performances were rewarded with very much deserved waves of enormous and ongoing applause.
Following the interval, we waited with great anticipation for the new work,
Nu Shu: The Secret Songs of Women, which featured the harpist, Elizabeth Hainen, soloist with the Philadelphia Orchestra for the past two decades. This work was many years in the making, and was worth all of the hard work that went into it. It tells of the secret language of the women of the regions, and their devious ways of passing on their communications through what looked at a glance like mere decorative designs on the ribs of fans, or worked into pieces of embroidery. The language was both spoken and sung, and was passed from one generation to another.
In the short snatches of film we saw the characters being drawn, women of various ages talking, or singing, and explaining the importance of having that special means of communication between them. Some had a sense of fun and joy, others a deep sadness. There is more to this work than an anthropologically austere documentary of the language as
Tan Dun puts it into context and lets us see what it means culturally and socially. Even without the music, this would be a powerful and moving piece.
Bassoons, oboes, and cor Anglais begin, with the brass entering moments later, almost in a nod to Stravinsky, with sweeping slurs in the brass as the strings join in below the first of the videos, which are streamed from three projectors, one onto a central triptych and the other two onto single screens to either side, the audio components perfectly timed to join with the orchestral score.
An interesting 'sound effect' was provided by two of the percussionists, each with a large glass bowl of water, sometimes scooping it up and allowing it to cascade back into the bowl, and sometimes slapping rhythmically on the surface.
The piece is filled with emotion, with highs and lows pushing the audiences in all directions, from broad smiles, to a few tearful sections. It ends by building to a grand crescendo and sudden stop, followed by a few moments of stunned total silence, before the applause began, loudly and unrelenting, with two rounds of standing ovations. There was a palpable buzz of elated excitement, and much conversation as the audience left the auditorium and milled around discussing the performance in the foyer, all in glowing terms.
Having
Tan Dun, Chenchu Rong, and Elizabeth Hainen, all highly respected in their fields, and recipients of numerous awards and accolades, appearing here in Adelaide together for the one concert, is a major coup and a clear statement of the reputation of the OzAsia Festival, which is still only in its eighth year. This festival has attracted some major names and many amazing performances in that time and, no doubt, we will be as well served for a long time to come as this event gains in popularity every year. Because they live here, though, it is easy to overlook the fact that the Adelaide Symphony Orchestra are right up there with the other major names, and at the top of their field as well. Only an orchestra of their standard could have given such a thoroughly captivating and enriching performance as we heard in this concert. We are indeed fortunate to have them here, and we should not take them for granted.
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