Sometimes an orchestral program proves to be meaningful in ways that were never intended when it was first devised. Such was the case last Thursday and Saturday, when the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra gave its first local outing since the onset of public and internal turmoil last month sparked by the orchestra’s management’s cancellation of a planned concerto performance on 15 August by Australian pianist Jayson Gillham. This was prompted by Gillham’s decision, during an MSO-sponsored piano recital he had given a few days earlier, to introduce one of the pieces, Witness, by Australian composer Connor D’Netto, by explaining that it had been dedicated to the more than 100 Palestinian journalists killed during the current conflict in Gaza.

While the precise circumstances of what then unfolded remain unclear, it appears that the orchestra’s management cancelled Gillham’s second appearance in response to complaints it had received in response to that introduction. (No details have been proffered concerning these complaints or their origin.) The orchestra’s management subsequently acknowledged its cancellation to be ‘an error’, though it nevertheless continues to maintain that ‘a concert platform is not an appropriate stage for political comment’.

What then are we to make of the Acknowledgment of Country that the MSO now customarily presents before its concerts, this one being no exception? Are we not meant to take its statement concerning continuing Indigenous culture on, and ownership of, the land on which we gather seriously as a political statement, or is it merely a performative exercise? Such is the quagmire of reasoning that the organisation has now created for itself. I was left wondering, indeed, whether the past couple of weeks had been not so much an issue about the presence or absence of politics per se, but about who should ultimately be deciding what can or cannot be uttered on stage, and on what basis.

The three works that followed were all sombre and contemplative in character. The first of them, Elena Kats-Chernin’s Mythic, was composed for the Tasmanian Symphony Orchestra in 2004. Lasting a little over ten minutes, it consists of a single arch-form statement built out of a series of variations around a slow, hymn-like, chordal progression that gradually intensifies. According to Kats-Chernin, the title refers to a mental image she had of entering into ‘a large, mythical cave’. This formal structure certainly helps convey a sense of an enveloping, lonely, splendour, albeit one also occasionally undercut by some caustic musical ‘commentary’ in the form of cello and trombone glissandos or unexpected cluster chords in the upper strings.

Finnish composer Jean Sibelius’s Seventh, and last, completed symphony, served in part as a kind of a response to this curtain-raiser. Composed some eighty years earlier, and over twice as long, it is nevertheless similarly conceived as a single musical statement, and also substantially relies on a gradual intensification of timbre and tempo to drive its musical and poetic narrative. Here, however, the uneasy, searching quality of the music is also an expression of a broader anxiety of influence – Sibelius’s work is an argument with (in both senses) a century and a half of symphonic music. The scoring is thus more complex and varied.

Here, some of the conversational passagework across woodwind, strings, and brass sections was not always delivered with the crystal-clear precision it demands, although the conductor, Lawrence Renes (a frequent visitor to these shores), otherwise gave a clear, albeit somewhat reticent, reading. The searing rising appoggiaturas that conclude both works came across as suggesting a sense of ongoing doubt rather than any easy resolution.

Melbourne Symphony Orchestra (photograph by Laura Manariti)

The last work on the program, Gabriel Faure’s Requiem, is a staple of amateur church choirs and choral societies, in part because it is compact in scale and may seem relatively easy to perform (it is not!). What the work lacks in the kinds of musical high drama or gothic theatre that we find in other famous Requiem settings, such as those by Mozart, Berlioz, and Verdi, it makes up for in elegance and refinement.

The Requiem was composed for chamber forces between the late 1880s and 1890s (but also including music Fauré had first composed as early as 1877). The provenance of the version performed here for full orchestra is not certain, but even if Fauré did not orchestrate it himself, we know it had his blessing. Here, the MSO (led from the violas by Principal Christopher Moore), and an in-form MSO Chorus (well-prepared by chorus master Warren Trevelyan-Jones) gave a finely wrought rendition, though the tempos chosen were a little slow and the chorus’s otherwise impressive passages of quiet singing were at risk of sounding too reserved (for instance, in the quiet dread of the ‘Offertory’ movement, with its cries from the departed soul to be delivered from the pains of hell).

Orchestra and choir were ably supported by what can only be described as ‘luxury casting’ for the work’s two vocal soloists. Renowned British baritone Roderick Williams, who many in the audience will have recognised from his role in last year’s coronation service for Charles III, sang with his trademark character and refinement (and endearing stage presence). Berlin-based Australian soprano Siobhan Stagg delivered Fauré’s short setting of the final couplet of the Dies irae hymn, ‘Pie Jesu’, with a beguiling mix of maturity and delicacy.

The performance, however, was significantly let down by one inescapable absence: a concert pipe organ. Once again, despite the valiant efforts of organist Andrew Bainbridge, the electronic substitute that appeared on stage proved no substitute. Whether because of the size and character of the speakers used, or because of the quality of the electronic sampling, it simply did not ‘speak’ into the hall as an acoustic instrument would. At times the sound was more akin to what one would expect to hear at a suburban American baseball game. Surely long overdue is a permanent fix to this problem by the Trustees of the Arts Centre Melbourne. For now, they should stop describing Hamer Hall as ‘Australia’s premier, multi-level concert venue’. In its current state, it self-evidently is not. Meanwhile, the MSO should look for a different venue when it programs music such as this.

The orchestra’s management, however, can be forgiven if its attention remains focused on resolving the ongoing fall-out from the events of last month. Alongside the departure of the MSO’s managing director, Sophie Galaise, it has appointed New Zealander Richard Wigley as a strategic adviser. Peter Garrett, supported by consultancy firm KPMG Australia, is now leading a broader review of the organisation. This will include evaluating ‘MSO’s policies, procedures and processes and cover protocols around freedom of speech and artistic expression on stage’.

To be sure, the character of this review may raise further questions of its own, such as why there is a need for the involvement of a (no doubt very expensive) firm like KPMG, whose own internal culture has come under serious question over the past year. We also recall Garrett’s attempt, as arts minister in the Rudd government, to close down the Australian National Academy of Music in 2008. Still, I am not alone in hoping this will be a genuinely open and respectful process, one that leads to a positive outcome.

As for the particular issue that caused this drama last month, my own view is that public organisations should always be open to hearing all sorts of views, even ones with which they (or their principal benefactors) might disagree. This seems to me to be an essential part of what makes for a healthy social and intellectual life, if not a strong civil society. Certainly, in my role as an occasional arts critic for ABR I do not seek to present views with any pretence that they might be the sole correct ones, or that they should not, or cannot, broker dissent. My job is that of a provocateur, inviting readers to think further, or anew, about works of art under review, rather than seeking to divine or preach a singular truth that does not allow for the possibility of reasonable alternative points of view.

Similarly, while a concert audience is usually a captive, silent one (with responsibilities of its own), it still retains a capacity to choose either to engage with, or dismiss, what it hears. An audience can, and should, be allowed to think (and feel) for itself.

Fauré Requiem with Elena Kats-Chernin’s Mythic and Sibelius Symphony No.7 (Melbourne Symphony Orchestra) was performed at Hamer Hall on 29 and 31 August 2024. Performance attended: 31 August.