Masses for the dead are big ones for this casual fan, and I daresay Fauré’s is my favourite. There’s just something grand that comes with a choir belting out Latin vocals that really whips it for me. In saying this, though, we tragically had arrived late to the performance and as a result were politely herded into the late-box [Ed Jack notes: called a viewing room] like domesticated farmlife to hear the remainder of the first half behind soundproof glass. Jack was very apologetic to all staff involved, and in their infinite wisdom it appeared as though they had led another stray who was sick with the flu into an altogether separate late-box (words cannot express my gratitude for this thoughtful maneouvre, if indeed it was intended). It is worth noting that these late-boxes are equipped with air-conditioning, and adjustable volume to suit headbanger mode (alternatively coined Hard-of-Hearing function). +10exp to QPAC for their wonderful facilities and staff.
While we were enjoying the fact that we weren’t paraded in front of all punctual attendees, with this came the horrible realisation that we had missed the performance of Stravinsky’s tribute to Rimsky-Korsakov ‘Funeral Song (Opus 5)’. A regrettable loss, as Stravvo’s piece was recently rediscovered in 2015 and I (still) have only heard this banger on Youtube. This would indicate that we were at least 11 minutes late. Please don’t strip us (me) of this privilege for the outright detestable blunder.
Next up was Benjamin Britten’s Four Sea Interludes from his Peter Grimes opera. Britten's is a new player for me as I’d only recently started listening to his offerings due to a chance discovery through Arvo Pärt’s Cantus in Memoriam Benjamin Britten. Once again, Pärt has not let me down, and neither did the QSO as they simply sledged this number and left me pining for a life that was never mine.
The next piece was a complete surprise to me. Most of the time I like to at least familiarise myself before seeing it live, but in Eric Whitacre’s case I sailed blind. And while sailors often complain of sirens luring them into the rocks this piece lured me towards the double-glass, breathing heavily and fogging it up in my surprise. This performance definitely stood out from the rest as it seemed more at home in the Neo-Classical tradition, but nonetheless I enjoyed the departure. Amidst the Choral experiments was finger-clicking to simulate rainfall, and quite possibly, the Cloudburst itself.
As the interval began we were retrieved from our treason-chamber and made our way into the Concert Hall. The lovely lady next to us pointed out that we had missed the first half, and we knew that hiding our shame was futile. None of this mattered after QSO started on Gabriel Fauré’s Requiem, however, and I was transplanted into the mournful yet somehow joyous melodies. To me this is like the musical version of the Bardo Thodol: it is both a preparation for and an acceptance of death. When we sidestep the fear, there is a beauty to the unknown. Two versions of this masterpiece exist: the 1893 and the 1900, and tonight will be focusing on the latter. The baritone was handled by the formidable Teddy Tahu Rhodes, and the soprano by Morgan England-Jones, both of whom brutally crushed it, leaving me speechless on more than one occasion. The conductor Stefan Parkman was also right at home leading The Australian Voices choir, all of whom played their part in executing this behemoth. By the time the piece was concluding my once lowly and troubled soul, akin to Lazarus, was prepared for eternal rest (Fauré, Gabriel. Requiem (“In Paradisum”). Thankyou QSO, QPAC staff, and all involved for DELIVERING ME, OH LORD.
By Kieran Elliott (Flotsam, Tuesdays 9-10AM)