Melissa Marsh

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.

To book tickets to Haydn’s Creation, please visit https://www.sydneyphilharmonia.com.au/events/haydns-creation/.

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