OVERALL NOISE RATING: 2 (beep-beep-beep-beep...)

The Noise Rating Index is a partially-objective measurement of pager and handphone blasts, 9pm and 10pm watch beeps, coughing-during-the-pianissimo-bits, intra-audience conversation and other mind-bogglingly inept noises emitted in the concert hall during actual performance of music. It is measured on a scale of 0 to 5, in increasing annoyance.

This review has been kindly sponsored by The Esplanade Co. Ltd

This 40-year-old, Minnesota-based orchestra was formed with the mission to "devote the major portion of its programmes to the wonderful literature, both classical and contemporary, that is not ordinarily played by large symphonies"; and in this, it has today come to be recognised as one of the finest chamber orchestras in the world – not least for its adventurous programming, but also for its performances of high calibre. Since 1988 (Music Director from 1991) the Orchestra has been under the dynamic leadership of Hugh Wolff; and the partnership has reaped extraordinary results – culminating in more than 19 recordings (they have an exclusive contract with Teldec) and numerous, highly-acclaimed international tours. Singapore-audiences were certainly fortunate enough to be treated to some extravagant musical fare on two consecutive evenings this week.

The premiere night opened with a lucid account of Richard Wagner's Siegfried-Idyll, composed in 1870 as a birthday gift for the composer's wife, Cosima. She awokened on Christmas Day that year to "a sound, swelling ever more, until (she) could no longer believe (she) was dreaming. Music sounded, and what music!" The original title given to the score was "Symphonic Birthday Greetings: Tribschen Idyll with Fidi's Birdsong and Orange Sunrise". "Tribschen" was the name of the couple's love-nest and "Fidi" the nickname given to their favourite child, Siegfried. The themes in the Idyll find their origin in the composer's opera, Siegfried, on which the composer was still at work at the time. Its quasi-Sonata form structure is elusive, owing to the excessive wealth of melodic material which flows uninhibited throughout the score in timeless rapture, sometimes contrapuntally.

Wolff certainly knows the music well, dispensing with the score and focusing his attention on his select group of remarkable players. The smooth introduction was as fluid as anyone could ask for – the tentative phrases urging ever forward. Speeds bordered on the brisk side, but were well-adapted – nevertheless - to the music.

A chamber-like intimacy was undoubtedly the order of the day, and the musicians of the SPCO did well in listening to one another: fully responsive to their colleagues and to their conductor, as individual entries eased their way comfortably into the music's delicate texture. The present writer would have preferred a little less harshness in the strings, and thought the tone to be slightly wiry – a more silken-quality would have been better-suited to the music. Inner voices were given their due, especially in the contrapuntal passages; the orchestral balance was quite successfully maintained.

A tranquil, almost mysterious quality was evoked in the development section – with hushed, muted strings amidst woodwinds uttering in gentle whispers. The climax leading into the final section was well-crafted, although this listener missed hearing the jubilant trumpet fanfare-like figures. Bird-calls on flute and clarinet, and the serene and beautiful horn-signals were certainly most memorable – all in all, a deliciously-wrought performance of this little masterpiece.

No qualms whatsoever, about this evening's magnificent rendition by Sabine Meyer of Mozart's evergreen Clarinet Concerto. The present writer cannot recall ever having heard it better-played than it was tonight. Ms Meyer's reputation surely precedes her: who could have forgotten the woman who was responsible for the ousture of Herbert von Karajan from the Berlin Philharmonic late last decade? Hearing her in performance definitely erased all doubts as to why the late, great maestro defied heaven-and-hell (in this case, the Board of the Berliner Philharmoniker) to grant her membership in the orchestra.

Sabine Meyer is incapable of making an ugly sound, and all aspects of her technique defy description – that leaves this reviewer at a loss for words. The Allegro first-movement opened confidently – again, textures were lucid and well-balanced, strings never overpowering the winds' harmonic back-up. Meyer's entry with the first subject was luscious, creamy and absolutely delectable: she displayed a clear understanding of those long, arching phrase-lines and imbued each new figure with character. Incredible lower-registers too, not harsh or menacingly-thin – always full-bodied and thick.

Excellent control was evident in the Adagio second-movement: Ms Meyer's unerring sense of musicianship never once lacking in lyrical warmth and sensitivity, greatly heightening the intimacy of this lovely music. The orchestra's accompaniment, though (this listener feels), did not quite compliment the soloist's understanding of the music. The Rondo-Allegro third movement was spritely, and its exhuberance was maintained throughout; mimicking, no less, Sabine Meyer's jubilant and puck-ish characterisation – her dulcet-tones never failing to capture the moment, and Hugh Wolff was a reliable accompanist throughout. In a word: unforgettable!

Bright Sheng belongs to a current generation of emigrant Chinese composers (Tan Dun, Chen Yi and Julian Yu among them) who fled the cultural revolution in their homeland and are now considered the representative musical voices of China – collectively known as "The New Wave". Now Professor of Composition at the University of Michigan, he had previously studied with the likes of Jack Beeson, George Perle, and most importantly, Hugo Weisgall and Chou Wen-Chung. His music has been championed by Bernstein, Yo-Yo Ma and Kurt Masur; and is a regular feature at most festivals of contemporary music.

Basically a tonal composer, Sheng disguises key-affiliations with a wide palette of compositional techniques derived from Stravinsky and Hindemith, including Chinese folk-music; and his Postcards is a case-in-point. Originally a commission for the silver wedding anniversary of Ruth and John Huss, Postcards is "about nature, love and nostalgia"; and is scored for small orchestra with a battery of percussion which includes mallets, tubular bells and piano. It is in four movements, titled "From the Mountains", "From the River Valley", "From the Savage Land" and "Wish You Were Here".

Exotic, "Chinese-opera" sounds are immediately evoked at the start of the preludial opening movement: "weird-and-wonderful" orchestration which serves, according to the composer, the apparent "overall gesture, emerging as it does from the inner details like a tree-branch or Chinese calligraphy". In this, he succeeds; as one is likely to notice of the music's obvious "silent" growth. String-portamenti and scordatura-like effects are employed to enhance the music's oriental flavour.

Petrouchka is called to mind in the second movement; and the composer's highly-derivative streak is multiplied in the third movement as he unabashedly lifts from Le Sacre, seemingly to evoke a raw, savage dance. Here, especially, Stravinsky's influence is evident (no less in the carbon-copy music) in the motoric rhythms and metre-shifts – the SPCO and Wolff responded well to the demands of the score. Its back to Chinese folk-style again in the final movement, as a simple melody is given an oriental twist much like the opening movement. An interesting work, nevertheless, if not very original; and conductor and orchestra gave a convincing and superbly played account.

Manuel de Falla's Andalusian gypsy scenes, El amor brujo ("Love, the Magician"), provided the perfect foil for Bright Sheng's Chinese nostalgia. Originally a ballet, the music has fared better over the years in the concert-hall. The selection tonight dispensed with the scenes which call for solo-voice. It is based on an old Andalusian legend about a sensuous gypsy woman, Candelas, who is haunted by the ghost of her late husband. Having been neglected and faithless in life, he now continually interferes with Candelas and her new lover. The woman's attempts to exorcise the spirit in a "Ritual Fire Dance" are in vain; and finally, with the aid of sorcery, the perturbing spirit is lured away by the conjured form of another pretty gypsy girl.

The garishly colourful music is marked by de Falla's profound admiration for Debussy, Ravel, and especially, Dukas; coupled with his deep love of Spanish song and nationalist fervour. The SPCO and Wolff (right) obliged us with a vivid reading of this wonderful music, with sharply-characterised rhythms (so hugely imperative) and instrumental details never amiss.

The "Introduction" opened briskly and grandiloquently, with near flawless synchronisation of the strings/timpani rumble; and the subsequent "Evening" scene started-off mysteriously, before the delicious oboe solo that introduces halfway the "love"-theme. Ravel-ian rhythms prevail in the "Ghost" and its accompanying "Dance of Terror" scenes; and the orchestra was definitely up-to-task in the quick, pointed figures – thumbs-up, too, to the pianist who played magnificently in the tutti-passages.

The magical and serene "Fisherman's Story" was well-sustained – the SPCO and its conductor are certainly not incapable of lyrical tenderness. Elsewhere, they displayed an amazing affinity for the wild energy in the "Ritual Fire Dance" – excellent horns, nonetheless! The final scene, "The Morning Bells", magically evoked an orange sunrise – complete with chiming tubular-bells and thomping timpani. Furthermore, the audience was pampered with two encores: a rowdy "Hoe-Down" from Copland's Rodeo, and the Gavotte from Prokofiev's "Classical Symphony" – how extraordinarily delightful! Pity the ringing handphone near the end, though …

Darrell Ang found out that he was sitting on the wrong seat at this concert - three days later.

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403: 5.2.1999 ©Darrell Ang

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