Omega Ensemble’s NEW NOW 2026 at The Neilson, further enhanced that reputation. The Neilson is a start-of-the-art performance space, nestled into the Walsh Bay Arts Precinct. Drinks in the foyer with the Sydney Harbour, in full view, make it a stunning experience. There’s something magical about having composers ‘alive’ and onstage, introducing their works and mingling with patrons. Yes, we will always yearn for the Mozarts and the Mendelssohns, but contemporary music ensures that the arts will continue to thrive. New composers must have forums to showcase their work.
The program opens with Robert McIntyre’s Solastalgia. Robert introduces his work by acknowledging Australian Environmental Philosopher, Glenn Albrecht. Solastalgia symbolises feeling a sense of homesickness whilst still being at home. Musically, the work is in two parts, Nostalgia and Solastalgia. Both parts have poetic qualities, via collaboration with Savanna Wegman. Nostalgia has an eerie beginning and then builds, ‘as steady arms of wind brush open’. Our environment is under threat, we mystically reflect. Solastalgia evokes a sense of urgency, ‘stretch the wingspan as spiralised skies hide in sandcastles’. McIntyre wants us to awaken our senses and connect with the world around us. Omega Ensemble beautifully captures the atmospherics of the music.
The second work, ‘a map to nowhere’, is by Jessie Leov. Jessie spoke about being inspired, after going for a walk in the forest with best friend Avalon and her toddler. Leov pondered the impact of the forest, with all it’s whimsical qualities, on a toddler’s senses. There’s a real playfulness to the tonality of the piece, capturing a toddler’s perceptions of a seemingly surreal world. A map to nowhere explores the concept of journey and where that journey might lead. It flows beautifully from Solastalgia. David Rowden on clarinet, truly excels in this piece.
The third work, The Cicerone Suite by Thomas Misson, is in four parts, Hefeweizen, Belgian-Style Blond, Dry Irish Stout, West Coast IPA. Yes, it’s a cheeky reference to beer styles and how there’s a correlation between the bitterness of beer and contemporary music. As the titles suggest, there’s a sense of fun and beguiling bewilderment. The reference to beer is an obvious attempt to breakdown an elitism that encapsulates classical music. Mark Ingwersen (Violin), Neil Thompson (in my opinion, the most impressive Violist in Australia) and Paul Stender (Cello) ensure these pieces soar.
Beth Roche’s The Lambton Worm, spectacularly rounds out the NEW NOW 2026 program. The Lambton Worm is a fourteen century legend from County Durham in North-East London, that details a battle between John Lambton and a giant worm (archaic term for dragon). John wins the battle, but the victory is a pyrrhic one, as a nine-generation curse is bestowed on his family. This work has a fable-like quality to it. It’s crushing crescendo beautifully closes the evening. Pianist, Vatche Jambazian, expertly delivers. The audience is on the edge of their seats with his assured dexterity. The Lambton Worm has potential to be a full-blown opera. Speaking to Roche in the foyer afterwards, she told me that the thirteen minute work took months and months to compose. The passion to the project, clearly evident.
The Omega Ensemble prove that they are a world-class company. The Neilson is an intimate space which is perfect for Omega Ensemble, because their performances always connect with the audience.
Tony & Gaga: An Opulent Big Band Experience Rating
★★★★★
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Most know the late Tony Bennett and the much younger pop icon, Lady Gaga, who shared a musical partnership and a friendship for decades. Both were Italian singers with a mutual respect for each other, as well as two collaborative jazz albums.
After first meeting at the 2011 Robin Hood Foundation gala in New York City, when Bennett told Gaga, “Lady, you are a jazz singer”, later that year Gaga recorded “The Lady Is a Tramp” for Bennett’s Duets II album.
So successful, they then released the chart-topping jazz record Cheek to Cheek in 2014 and the Cole Porter tribute album Love for Sale in 2021.
What many don’t know is the mutual impact and support they shared revitalized Gaga’s love for music when she was considering quitting the music industry. Their partnership was that profound.
For the amazing Tony & Gaga tribute show in Melbourne last Friday, acclaimed powerhouse vocalist, Sarah C, (Dancing with the Stars, X Factor) teamed up with debonair Melbourne fashion icon, Dom Bagnato, to sing the unforgettable hits of the American Songbook.
Arguably, some of the best songs ever produced in our history, some nearly 100 years old, these timeless tunes fit somewhere into our lives emotionally, still today.
When I last reviewed Sarah’s ‘Soul Divas’ show, I met Dom in the audience, excited about doing this new show with Sarah C.
This had developed when Sarah and Dom had sung together at the birthday of Dom’s daughter when they realised they had some great musical mojo together. Now, the rest is history.
No coincidence, the 20-piece band backing Sarah and Dom on Friday night were named the Mojo Orchestra and, the chemistry between Sarah and Dom with this great band, was an absolute treat to behold.
Dressed in dinner suits and bow ties, the Mojo Orchestra stage setting was reminiscent of the halcyon days of the Glenn Miller Orchestra. Mojo had the same musical precision Miller’s band was famous for – when to come in loud and when to pull back – without anyone knowing how they timed that.
The first song of the night, sung by backing singers Cathy Moloney and Julie Kemelfield, was ‘Summertime’, from the musical Porgy and Bess. They were there to warm us up so, we had no idea how opulent our experience was about to be.
I had just flown in Friday morning from a friend’s “007” wedding in Greece and a week in Thailand’s relaxed humidity, straight into Melbourne’s frosty Friday night to do this review, so ‘Summertime’ seemed serendipitous.
I was ready for the warmth of “crooner” tunes, when Musical Director, Peter Foley, introduced us to Sarah C and Dom Bagnato as Gaga and Bennett and their first duet, the classic, ‘The Lady is a Tramp’. It is a playful song about a woman who hates strict social rules, made famous by singers like Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennett, celebrating being free and real. What more could one want?
Sarah C, always so glamourous – was wearing a leopard print blazer, diamante brooch and a Fedora hat, the first of her many changes – showed us her vocal versatility with some matching Beebop, (first developed in the 40s by legends like Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie.).
The band sounded romantic and fabulous and the audience couldn’t wait to hear what more was in store for their evening.
Next, Sarah and Dom performed ‘Heaven’ with Sarah’s tone reminiscent of Amy Winehouse, she always sings so brilliantly; followed by ‘Night and Day’, composed by Cole Porter in 1932 for the Broadway musical, Gay Divorcee; and ‘Under my Skin’, also by Cole Porter in 1936 and adopted by Sinatra as one of his signature hits.
Dom bantered happily with our audience like he knew us all personally.
“When I travel, I like to sing, especially this one’, ‘I left my heart in San Francisco’. He sang a very apt tribute to Tony Bennett, who originally recorded and popularized the song in 1962, when it quickly became Bennett’s signature song.
Dom then chose the Sinatra hit, ‘The way you look tonight’, originally sung by Fred Astaire and, Mojo’s trombones were exquisite.
Then, another Sinatra hit with an arrangement by Quincy Jones from 1964, ‘Fly me to the Moon’ – later becoming tied to NASA’s Apollo space missions.
The Mojo band excelled during this number with their eight saxophones especially synchronised, powerful and melodic.
Sarah C returned to the stage in a long pink satin dress to sing us ‘La Vie ‘en Rose’ (Life in pink), in French. A wonderful tribute to Edith Piaf’s 1945 version, which later became a hit in the USA in the 50’s.
Next was ‘At Last’, originally recorded by the Glenn Miller Orchestra with vocals by Ray Eberle and Pat Friday in 1941. Most know Etta James’ 1960 soul version. Sarah C’s smoky depth gave us a little mix of both, Sarah taking full advantage of her exquisite 20-piece orchestra at that moment.
The audience was invited to take a break and on return, Dom treated us to a Sinatra and Dean Martin medley: ‘Come fly with me’, ‘All of me’, ‘You’re nobody ‘til somebody loves you’ and finally, ‘My Way’, which Dom sang with all his heart and soul, totally winning over the audience and causing us all to stand and cheer.
Sarah C in her a beautiful, long pink gown, tied in a huge bow – designed by Ella Atkins – paired with a stunning Halo diamante Tiara, sang one of my all-time favourite songs – once recorded by Sammy Davis Junior, John Coltrane, Michael Buble, and, most famously, the irrepressible Nina Simone – the very cool and extremely groovy, ‘I’m feeling good’.
To hear this classic sung by Sarah in an intimate band room, performed live by the magnificent Mojo orchestra, was spine-tingling.
As were the following hits, ‘Orange coloured Sky’ originally by Nat King Cole; ‘My Baby just cares for me’; ‘I get a kick out of you’; Duke Ellington and Ella Fitzgerald’s, ‘Don’t mean a thing if you ‘aint got that swing’ and finally, ‘New York. New York.’
By this time, the audience was singing along loudly and with joy.
Brunswick Ballroom is one of Melbourne’s live music gems. Not only does it host live original and cover bands of every genre on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays – and some weekdays – on this marvellous night, it opened at 6.30pm for dinner before the show starting at 8.30pm.
Who doesn’t love a dinner and show?
This was something different – An opulent big band experience, everyone dressed up to the nines in an intimate ballroom, hosting a 20-piece orchestra behind two powerhouse voices, two good friends, who, like the real Tony and Gaga re-igniting these classics, had a camaraderie and talent too good to miss.
A time of chivalry, respect, romance and joy. Melbourne needs more of this.
Don’t miss your chance to see this great show. Upcoming dates are:
Frankston Arts Centre – Saturday, 5th September, 2026.
My husband and I had the pleasure of attending Omega Ensemble’s concert, Inner Landscapes, at the beautiful Melbourne Recital Centre. Neither of us had been to a live classical concert before, so we had no idea what to expect. What we got was an amazing aural sound-bath from the incredibly accomplished musicians who make up the ensemble. With the hall’s beautifully acoustic design holding, reflecting and reinforcing the music from every direction, this was a true feast for the ears, joyful, surprising and moving in turns.
The night opened with a powerful original score by the Pulitzer Prize winning composer, John Corigliano. ‘Soliloquy’, written in memory of his father, was a tender exploration of that loss. The interplay between the violins and the solo clarinet carried a poignant sense of the empty spaces left behind when someone we love leaves. Even with its mournful threads pulling at absence and longing, quietly unravelling the listener, it was not without drama. There was an almost Hitchcockian feel to the piece in places, a sense of tension surrounding the beauty of the violins, suggesting that even as normal life was being lived, something darker and more insidious tugged at the edges, threatening to overwhelm it. It was an incredible treat to hear it live and be invited into that deeply personal experience.
The second piece was delightfully familiar to me and will be to many of you too, I imagine. An expanded ensemble, now including cellos and double bass (I love these deep, earthy, mournful instruments the most), gave us a powerful performance of Franz Schubert’s String Quartet No. 14, Death and the Maiden. Performed in four movements, it rose and fell deftly. The first conjured rolling hills, bird murmurations, a feeling of youth and vitality, with an edge of unpredictability and sometimes danger created by the dancing, vigorous strings. My understanding is that this movement reflects the Maiden’s terror of Death. The second is slower, meant to convey a sense of safety despite Death’s presence. Here Death felt safe and generous rather than fearful, yet still carried the passionate, dramatic surges of feeling such a meeting would bring. It felt like being carried through the full emotional gamut of a life, seasons the Maiden will never live through rolled past as if in fast forward, a little like the idea that your life flashes before your eyes when you die. The third and fourth movements were sublime, returning to earlier themes with maturity and depth. The ensemble worked together impeccably. With no conductor, I watched with great interest the subtle interplay between the musicians, the tightly bound group led with breath and eye and the subtle hand of the principal viola and violinists. I was left thinking: if this is how incredible this ensemble is, can the Philharmonic really be any better?
The third piece was another original composition, ‘Rounds’ by Jessie Montgomery, a Grammy Award winning composer and violinist. Inspired by T.S. Eliot’s epic poem ‘Four Quartets’, it felt to me like sitting in the centre of a storm. With passionate, skilful playing from pianist, Vatche Jambazian, I felt immersed in water: storm clouds producing lightning and rain, surging seas, the threat of violence and danger interspersed with lighter, more playful refrains, violins and piano exploring light and dark together, discordant, harmonious, rising and falling in ever more powerful rounds. A unique and interesting piece, and one that left the listener feeling as though they’d resurfaced breathlessly from deep underwater.
The final piece, a world premiere of ‘Paludarian Dreams’ by another award winning composer, Paul Stanhope, explored themes of nature found in a busy city. It was written for Omega Ensemble and it’s Artistic Director and solo clarinetist, David Rowden, whose deft fingers brought easily to mind the swift unpredictability of birds in flight. Workshopped with the ensemble members, it felt beautifully collaborative and is, by their own admission, always evolving. It is joyful, sometimes whimsical and always surprising, delighting the audience with violin frogs that made us laugh out loud (not something you expect from classical music) as they called throatily to one another in the dark marshy waters of the piece. And the long cello solo was a genuine treat for me.
Honestly, this was one of the most enjoyable experiences I’ve had as a reviewer. Some of that can perhaps be put down to the delight of my first foray into live orchestral music, but most of it was down to the sheer talent of these highly accomplished musicians and the power of the compositions.
I highly recommend you go and see them as soon as you can, whichever city you happen to be in, because the only sad thing about the whole experience was that the auditorium wasn’t full to bursting. Omega ensemble truly deserves a full house.
Haydn’s The Creation Sydney Opera House – Concert Hall
For my first experience of a major classical performance, I could hardly have asked for a more fitting introduction than Joseph Haydn’s The Creation in the Sydney Opera House Concert Hall. Performed by the Sydney Philharmonia Choirs and Orchestra under the direction of Brett Weymark, this one-night concert presentation demonstrated that music alone can tell a story with extraordinary clarity, scale and emotional force.
For those unfamiliar with the form, an oratorio shares many features with opera, using soloists, chorus and orchestra to tell a dramatic story, but is presented as a concert rather than with scenery, costumes or theatrical staging. Oratorios are also usually sacred or liturgical in theme; Handel’s Messiah, which helped inspire Haydn’s The Creation, is perhaps the best-known example. Here, the programme’s inclusion of the libretto was especially useful. As Naomi Hnat noted in the pre-concert talk, The Creation was always intended to be performable for an English-speaking audience, and the edition used in this performance adopted the original English words as set by Haydn. That made the storytelling feel immediate rather than translated at a distance.
Before the performance, a free forty-five-minute talk in the Northern Foyer provided an excellent introduction to the work. Hosted by Tom Forrester-Paton, with Conducting Fellow Naomi Hnat and geobiologist Dr Maxwell Lechte, it proved especially valuable for those without a long background in classical music. Hnat demonstrated key passages at the piano, making Haydn’s musical language accessible without oversimplifying it. Her explanation of the opening “Chaos” was particularly illuminating, showing how Haydn deliberately avoids the musical resolutions audiences instinctively expect, leaving the music unsettled as it searches for order. She also explained the famous “and there was light” passage, where the word “light” marks the transition from C minor into a blazing C major — a moment she described as one of Haydn’s favourites, while Forrester-Paton noted it was also a favourite passage for the chorus to perform.
Brett Weymark conducted with remarkable vitality. At times he seemed almost to dance the music into being, but never in a way that distracted from the performance itself. Rather, he seemed to live inside Haydn’s score as it turned and changed, especially during the more dramatic passages. His evident affection for the work translated into a performance of momentum, warmth and conviction, drawing committed responses from both orchestra and choir.
The opening “Chaos” unfolded exactly as Hnat had described, resisting comfortable resolution and creating an unsettled musical landscape before the famous declaration, “Let there be light.” The command itself arrived softly but with quiet certainty. The true release came with “and there was light,” when orchestra, choir and the lighting above the stage opened together in what felt like a blazing sunrise of sound. After the uncertainty of the opening, the effect was overwhelming: not merely heard, but physically felt throughout the Concert Hall.
The orchestra served not simply as accompaniment but as the foundation on which the entire performance rested. Rather than drawing attention to individual sections, it supported the unfolding narrative and allowed Haydn’s vivid musical imagery to emerge naturally. Nathan Cox’s fortepiano became an elegant bridge between orchestra and voices, adding delicacy and clarity whenever the soloists emerged.
The principal soloists each brought a distinct vocal character to the performance. Celeste Lazarenko’s Gabriel had a quicksilver lightness, bright, agile and seemingly airborne. As Eve, that radiance remained but became more grounded, giving the final part a warmer and more human presence. The transformation was subtle rather than theatrical, allowing the audience to hear not merely another role but another way of encountering the newly created world.
Kyle Stegall’s Uriel brought his own brightness and flexibility to the tenor line, carrying the narrative with clarity and ease. His singing had an effortless quality that allowed the story to move naturally from one stage of creation to the next, without ever feeling merely functional.
Michael Lampard’s baritone offered an ideal counterweight, oak-like in its warmth and solidity. As Raphael, he anchored the great descriptive passages with steadiness and authority; as Adam, he revealed a gentler and more intimate character. His duets with Lazarenko were among the evening’s finest moments, their contrasting vocal colours creating both balance and intimacy.
The addition of mezzo-soprano Yvette Leonard in the closing section broadened the vocal palette of the solo ensemble. Rather than competing with the principal voices, her contribution enriched the finale, adding warmth and balance to the concluding pages and giving the ending a fuller sense of vocal breadth.
If the soloists carried the narrative, the Sydney Philharmonia Choir supplied the emotional and spiritual force of the evening. At its most powerful it became a wall of sound, filling the Concert Hall without losing clarity. Yet what impressed just as much was its subtlety. Softer passages revealed many colours, while from the stalls it was possible to see and hear the individual vocal lines ripple across the risers before gathering once more into a unified whole. The effect was almost orchestral in itself, different voices emerging and receding like changing colours through falling leaves. By the second half, I found myself anticipating each occasion the choir would rise again.
The renovated Concert Hall deserves mention as a participant in the performance rather than simply its setting. The acoustics combined warmth, clarity and power, allowing orchestra, soloists and choir to blend without sacrificing individual detail. Music in this space was not simply audible; it had a tangible physical presence that surrounded the audience and reinforced the grandeur of Haydn’s vision.
The audience responded warmly throughout the afternoon, with appreciative applause between the major sections and a generous ovation at the conclusion. It felt like an acknowledgement not only of technical accomplishment but of the care, preparation and affection that had gone into bringing Haydn’s masterpiece to life.
For a first encounter with large-scale classical performance, The Creation proved both welcoming and awe-inspiring. More than two centuries after Haydn composed it, its sense of wonder remains intact. Under Weymark’s energetic direction, supported by outstanding soloists, orchestra and choir, this one-night performance transformed the Concert Hall into a place where creation was not simply described — it was vividly experienced.
