‘Spellbinding power’ of showcase of works by young composers

Orchestra Wellington conducted by Marc Taddei with Amalia Hall (violin), Benson Wilson (baritone), Orpheus Choir, Wellington Brass Band and Hutt City Brass. Music by Ades, Britten, Briar Prastiti and Walton. Michael Fowler Centre, August 5. Reviewed by Max Rashbrooke.

Saturday night’s Prophecy concert by Orchestra Wellington was, as conductor Marc Taddei noted, a showcase of youth, all four of its works written by composers in their 20s or early 30s.

It was, too, music that faced up to personal and political turmoil.

The opening number, Thomas Ades’ …But All Shall Be Well, took its title from the famous Julian of Norwich quotation, but didn’t shy away from darkness, acknowledging it as the flipside of light. Plaudits are due to Taddei for bringing this questioning, shape-shifting work to these shores for the first time.

The other short work was a premiere by Wellington composer Briar Prastiti, Ákri. Translated as ‘Edge’, the piece played with a singular motif that alternately blended into and clashed with its accompaniment, suggesting the complex experience of those who belong to multiple cultures.

While at times it relied too much on large clouds of sound, and could have used sharper textures or greater polyphony, it was conceptually clever, exploring the sense in which an edge is both a division and a join.

Belshazzar’s Feast was, conversely, the biggest and most attention-grabbing number, requiring as it does an outsized orchestra, a full choir and two brass bands. And it was exhilarating stuff.

Orpheus Choir’s performance featured a well-blended sound, thrilling fortissimos and largely accurate entries.

The orchestral playing was lively and sharp, and swung just the right amount, the trumpets and trombones especially enjoying their jazzy blasts. Baritone Benson Wilson was in good voice, too, although his articulation was sometimes lacking. In the climaxes, with everything going full tilt, the whole ensemble’s sound lost definition, but there was no denying the work’s overall force.

Even that, though, paled by comparison with Britten’s Violin Concerto, Amalia Hall starring as the soloist. The strings were sublime throughout, sounding both clear and warm in the opening, and in the second movement glowing and drowsy. In that movement, too, there were ominous notes in the brass and crisp off-beats from the ensemble.

Centre-stage, though, was Hall, in possibly her best performance yet with this orchestra. Her naturally hard-edged tone was a perfect fit for Britten’s often anguished writing, but she also produced a delicate array of musical shadings: silvery lines, judderingly harsh passages and reverentially hushed moments all competed for attention.

The work’s technical demands were met with ease, indeed with stillness and control, and even hard-to-impress observers felt they had been taken on something akin to a spiritual journey.

The audience’s absolute stillness at the close of the performance testified to its spellbinding power.