Concerts

Divine torture

Once upon a time when a lot of this goodly air was wasted, there came a young organist, born in Wanganui, buck from success overseas to give two recitals in Wellington.

They will not be forgotten easily.

At St. Paul's Cathedral recently, Gillian Weir seemed to break all aural limits with a performance of two movements from Olivier Messiaen's La Nativite due Seigneur.

The complexities of the pieces were evident, with their occidental sockdologies, reckless rhythms and sensual beauty. It was like undergoing to most divine torture, leaving you restless and silent as it all suddenly stopped.

As Messiaen is often referred to as "that bird man". (from his I'Oiseau Exotiques) it was rather amusing to read the programme notes by Peter Averi. (thank you.)

However, Miss Weir could only be seen in one of the, concerts. Because of the structure of the church, and the hidden balcony of the organist's cove, many people must have thought it strange to stare into plastered space. Fortunately the No Clapping notification was regarded with a somnambulant ease.

Miss Weir played Bach's Chorale Partita: Sei Segrusset. Unfortunately some of the organ tones were anything but clear, and indeed one variation sounded as if it had a helicopter obbligato.

There were three pieces for an Organ in a Clock by Haydn. However, Miss Weir over came these tongue in pipe popsicles by playing the organ arrangement. A strident first movement from the 6th Symphony by Widor sounded suspiciously like Nina Rota's score for Visconti's The Leopard, with a bit of Saint-Saens 3rd thrown in. But then Widor was born in 1845.

There was the Hindemith First Sonata (1937). A very romantic work, with some beautiful slow passages, and especially the ewig finale.

In the town half, Miss Weir played in full view of the audience, accompanied by the Alex Lindsay Strings, in their first concert of the year.

The concert consisted mostly of English composers. The highlight being the Poulenc Organ Concerto (1938), a bold beautiful and romantic work, with the true string slush that Poulenc Havel-led in. It was an incredible sound for such a small orchestra, and Dobbs Franks conducting, the most pleasurable to watch.

After the delightful Handel Organ Concerto No. 5, I heard a woman during interval telling her mingy clique of "the remarkable sonorities". There was some decrepit Mozart thing, lasting a mere five minutes. Then it was repeated under a different name.

Two Serendaes for strings; youthful, traditionally British, diddle-dee.

One by Lennox Berkeley, that was too long in the short movements (and vice versa), but had a lovely sustained final lento. The other Elgars Serenade in E Minor.

Here Dobbs Franks proved what an incredible hold he has over his band of fiddlers. Never since Barbirolli's recording of this work, have I ever heard such beautiful playing. The Larghetto became almost unbearable.

We must thank Gillian Weir for two evenings of superb noise, and the Lindsay strings For helping her. Would it be too much to think that more undiscovered N.Z. talent will be arriving from abroad soon? Or is it better that it stays, lives and dies here?