Friday 12 June 2026

Review by Paul Neeson (Arts Wednesday)

SSO Firebird, Andrey Boreyko (photo Ken Leanfore)

St. Petersburg born conductor, Andrey Boreyko lead the Sydney Symphony Orchestra in an all-Russian program with 20th Century works by Liadov, Shostakovich and Stravinsky.

Anatoly Liadov composed Kikimora in 1909. While it contains some memorable melodies, it is a fairly perfunctory work utilising familiar orchestral tropes. Pleasant enough to listen to and the Sydney Symphony gave a performance that warranted its inclusion in the program. But the more compelling reason for its appearance on the program is that Liadov was commissioned by the famous impresario Diaghilev to compose a score for The Firebird which he was planing for the Ballet Russe. Liadov was attributed by a contemporary as possessing ‘ingenious indolence’ and he failed to complete the commission, opening the door for Igor Stravinsky; but more on that later.

Shostakovich and Mstislav Rostropovich in the Blue room of the Great Hall of the Leningrad Philharmonic after the premiere of the First Cello Concerto. 4 October 1959

That was where the ordinary ended. Cellist Maximilian Hornung took to the stage for Shostakovich’s Cello Concerto No.1. The work opens with a 4 note phrase G-E-B-B♭ on the solo cello that has such an idiosyncratic Shostakovich sound to it. This motif is woven throughout the whole concerto in a way similar to how Beethoven employed his famous 4 note phrase in the Symphony No.5. Hornung’s tone was solid and assertive, carrying all the weight and angst the work requires. This concerto is described as one of the most technically challenging in the repertoire, and Hornung made it look like a beginner’s exercise.

SSO Firebird, Maximilian Hornung, cello (photo Ken Leanfore)

His use if vibrato in the slow 2nd movement was exquisite. By delaying the vibrato way beyond expectation, we were forgiven for mistaking the sound for a reed instrument, but when finally the unmistakable vibrato identified it as string, it was all the more sweet. The 3rd movement is an extended cadenza requiring every sound the cello can produce, and the score looks like it requires two cellos to realise the music, but this was no challenge to our soloist. As Maximilian Horning explains in the interview below, the presence of Stalin can be felt in the work, even though he had died 6 years prior to Shostakovich composing it. But the sting is in the tail, as they say, as the final movement launches into a sarcastic “dance on Stalin’s grave”.

The appreciative crowd was not going to let him escape without an encore, and after several returns to the stage he relented, and gave us a romantic interpretation of Bach’s Suite for Solo Cello No.1. I have never hear it played with such rubato before, and was that an improvisation in the middle?

And so to The Firebird, Stravinsky’s breakthrough composition. After Liadov failed to deliver, Diaghilev had to quickly find a replacement composer to meet the advertised opening night of the Ballet in Paris. So he approached the 28 year old Stravinsky to join the creative team at the Ballet Russe of Michel Fokine (choreographer), Alexander Golovine (sets) and Léon Bakst (costumes). The young Stravinsky immersed in such a creative hot-bed rose to the challenge and created the remarkable score we heard tonight.

Already he was toying with modernism, using polytonality and experimenting with Asian scales made familiar by Debussy 7 years earlier. But it was his incredible orchestration that stood out at the time. With such a large orchestra at his disposal, he was able to explore unusual combinations of instruments and techniques to produce sounds never heard before. And if the Ballet Russe was known for anything it was novelty and experimentation.

Maestro Boreyko managed the orchestra in such an expert way that the balance between competing sections allowed every note to be heard, and every change in orchestral tone to be enjoyed fully. I thought the positioning of the off-stage brass in the stage door could have been better thought out as they ended up being less than a metre from the on-stage brass. Then oddly the 4 off-stage shaped Wagner tubas appeared in the choir stalls for the curtain call and applause. (Where they secreted in the organ loft all along?) A minor detail in what was one of those special magic concerts that regular concert attendees like myself experience only rarely. Bravo indeed!