Having heard Yo-Yo Ma play twice before (the solo recital in 1995, and the awesome 1997 performances of two pinnacles of the cello repertoire - the Shostakovich First Cello Concerto and the darling of all cello concertos, the Dvorak), I can declare that hearing Yo-Yo Ma perform is always a mystical experience. To hear him play the Elgar concerto only confirms his stature as a premier world-class performer, and likely the world's greatest in the 21st century.

A consummate performer, Yo-Yo Ma possesses characteristics difficult to put into words. I have now heard him 'live' in three different concertos from composers of different nationalities and after reviewing his Sony recording of Tavener's The Protecting Veil, I am further in awe at the fact that not only does he play all extremely well, but he makes the concertos look as if they were all written for him. His understanding of the music extends beyond the depths of all previous interpretations; and while you know that he could not have had an opportunity to speak to, say Elgar, his treatment of every score is filled with enlightening thought. You are immediately drawn to the freshness of his readings, and yet they inevitably sound as if he has played them all his life.

The introduction of the Elgar concerto was filled with heightened melancholia and straightaway the pain and suffering emotion associated with the work comes through. I have heard so many recordings of this concerto, but with Yo-Yo Ma, the introduction delivers its impact immediately to the listener. Everything comes to him intuitively, without any sense of dogmatic playing. Using long bow strokes as a pivot, he brings out the pathos with great urgency. I somehow felt united with him as if he played this concerto only for me. Yo-Yo Ma's performance extended beyond the audience to something I can only describe as ethereal, and yet it reached down to the individual seated in the concert hall.

Mr Ma never took on the concerto alone as one could see by the visual connection between him and the principal players of all the string sections. Shui Lan was also ever-vigilant to his needs and you could not but help notice that the Orchestra was performing with a greater sense of enthusiasm. I recently came across this quotation: "The performer's role is to inspire the audience to follow him in his devotion, his devotional act." You cannot but believe that Yo-Yo Ma has taken Singaporeans attending his concerts on this journey, a journey within oneself to a higher plane.

Technically Yo Yo is faultless, every facet of his playing is visually impacting . From the beginning all the way to the end you can see that sense of ‘struggle’ in his playing, a struggle not at the notes but a struggle for perfection according to how he sees it. I suppose that is how every minute detail is skillfully crafted, from extended phrases to longer and deeper bow strokes in the lower registers, his glissandi and harmonics were clear as crystal and made to look easy. I am happy to say that the Montagnana cello truly belongs in his hands, a gift from heaven. His cadenza in the third movement and the recapitulation of the opening theme literally brought me to tears and I was not at all astonished that this impact was felt by so many people at the concert.

Yo-Yo Ma's humility and generosity was seen at the end when he tried to get the audience to cheer for the orchestra rather than for him, as if he only had a minor role to play. For an encore, he played for us the Allemande from Bach's Sixth Cello Suite. Being the renowned "Mr. Nice Guy of classical music", he must have signed at least 400 autographs at the open rehearsal and took dozens of photos with his adoring fans. Lucky indeed, ironically, were the people who could not get tickets for the actual concerts but managed to sit in for the rehearsal. Last Friday, I went home a very happy man, happy not only to have been in the presence of a great performer but a true ambassador of music to the world, someone I know who will continue to have further impact on music in the coming years.

Before the Two Poems were played, Bright Sheng (Chinese name: SHENG Zong-Liang; photo right) came up on stage, after a brief intro by Shui Lan, to speak about the piece. Right from the start, his focus again was on the music as image. Combine this with the basic literary source of the music, and you can imagine the potential evocative power of the experience.

The first poem, "Midnight Bells", is inspired by a Tang dynasty poem. It begins, as the title suggets, as if we were a scene in deep night. The detached invocation of bells and wood blocks, spaced apart with silence, immediately brought to my mind the familiar image of the Chinese nightwatch, who would walk around town with gong and wood block, announcing the hour and ensuring the peace. In those days, there was no public lighting, hence the image which this music evokes is even more vividly dark. The lonely cello song, featuring Yo-Yo Ma's richly clear harmonic playing, pierces the darkness.

Bright Sheng's clear orchestration wins my complete admiration. More than that, his capacity to distill the essence of every gesture from the score makes the music seem like the sonic expression of a Chinese painting, complete with its miniature figures, pavilions and huts. Although there is some degree of noise (which the composer admits to), I found the piece generally serene - like a Chinese landscape painting full of subtle light movements, constantly avoiding the sense of weight. There is a passage, if I remember correctly, where a glissed phrase on cello is embellished lightly by harps, over a woodwind pedal trill with additional short bird-like motifs emitted from the background - beautiful.

Every gesture from the cello solo, each rapt invocation of wisps of tune makes complete intelligible sense in the overall poem. Not surprisingly, many stylistics of Chinese instrumental technique are employed, such as turned glissandi and the curving of phrase-ends. But nowhere have I heard it as effectively employed as it is here. I mean this both in terms of the composer's writing and Yo-Yo Ma's playing. In addition, the hard pizzicato, abrupt and with expressive silences between each note, powerfully evokes the rhythm and style of Chinese poetry recital. Made to pizzicato in the lower ranges, as well as harmonics, this imitated the guqin, an unfretted 7-string zither with a history of over 2000 years, greatly revered in Chinese literati. The monosyllabic language is in turn echoed beautifully by the two harps, scored and tuned to sound like the guzheng. (More from Derek below)

During the concert on Friday, the truth be told, much of the detail described above was obscured to some extent, compared to the open rehearsal in the morning. During the latter, Bright Sheng was very particular over dynamic balance, often running up on stage to shush accompanying instruments and secondary lines. In fact, he explained to the orchestra that parts of the score demanded that different sections played loud and soft at the same time. During the concert itself, there were a few points where Yo-Yo Ma was actually drowned by the overenthusiastic wind section. Unfortunately, we only got to hear the Poems in fragmented (rehearsal) form in the morning.

The second Poem, "Spring Opera", derives some of its material from the famous Beijing Opera, Farewell to My Concubine. But as Bright Sheng explained to the audience, much of the recognisable tunes have been "elaborated"/fragmented beyond recognition, with perhaps just brief hints left. This must have also happened in his China Dreams which the SSO performed in 1997; then it did not impress me. I confess now that it was probably my failure to appreciate his elaboratory process. I can no longer remember how China Dreams sounds like, but without a doubt I am much much more impressed with the Two Poems.

"Spring Opera" begins with a stroke on the tam-tam, but eventually becomes much "noisier" than the first Poem. The transparent orchestration nevertheless remains breathtaking. The balance of horizontal and vertical writing seems to reflect Bright Sheng's effective synthesis of Beijing Opera stylistics and Western orchestral resources. The theatrical gestures translate both in terms of colour, which is very focussed, and in visual terms, where the pinpoint orchestration allows one to see every action. There is a two-note cell in the work which appears many times; say, in that catchy and insistent string motif towards the end, the operatic "words" for the cello and the double-chord crash which contrasts with each quiet phrase. After an intense passage filled with Shostakovichian sardonic wit, the piece ends quietly in suspension. Yo-Yo Ma played the piece with a sense of ease and familiarity. Attacking his solos with gusto and glee, he infused the work with an infectious enthusiasm which I found completely palpable.