How Classical Music Can Feel Modern And Accessible

Elevator Music

Elevator Music Rating

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The Omega Ensemble’s Elevator Music, consisted of Anna Clyne’s Stride, Gaeme Koehne’s Dances on the Edge of Time and Aaron Copland’s Clarient Concerto. The concert was deliciously familiar and heart-warming. In particular Koehne’s work sampled familiar melodies, acting as a postmodern classical music DJ of sorts. The lively and energetic ensemble wove both old and new classical music, bringing to life a new and harmonic story through sound. The music was postmodernist and playful, referencing and recycling beloved melodies. The clarinet soloists (Michael Collins and David Rowden) pression and control, particularly their purity of tone in the upper registers, exhibited a mastery of the clarinets transition between registers.

The first piece began with, what seemed to me, crisp personality and warmth, benefitting from the expressive first violin, Véronque Serret. The music continued ominously and atmospherically, effectively building tension and my anxiety (as I assume the composer intended). The piece felt like story telling through sound, a fearsome loathsome tale that swiftly transitioned from hopeful to fearful. The tone was clearly conveyed in a way that listeners unfamiliar with classical music could feel and understand.

 

 

Dances on the Edge of Time introduced the two clarinet soloists, Michael Collins and David Rowden (also the artistic director). The clarinets ushered in a warmth and airy lightness. This was mirrored in the addition of the piano (Vatche Jambazian). In this piece the two clarinets blended deliciously with a foundation of sound built by the orchestra. All the musicians were playing and toying not just with sound, but volume too, which drew out swirling emotions from the audience. Koehne’s work continued to be heart warmingly nostalgic, as intended, the program noted that Koehne prefers warmth, clarity and lyricism over “the cliched angst and ponderousness of so much ‘respectable’ new music.” I tend to agree, and found the soulful, thoughtful and playful music, particularly the call and response from the clarinet soloists, to be moving and enjoyable. Koehnes orchestration is at times reminiscent of ravel’s colouristic effects

The Clarinet Concerto began slowly and gently, guided by the harmonic direction of Michael Collins. The piece was played as hopeful and dreamy, and produced feelings of wistfulness within me. I was brought along a journey that the artists wanted the audience to follow, it was twisting path of beauty and cool breezes. This piece continued, picking up speed and energy, with an ominous shift in orchestration and accompaniment. The clarinet soloists, however, continued with a light and energetic harmony, containing more call and response weaving in well-known classical melodies to the modern music. The piece continued with the whimsy highlighted by the double bases (Adrian Whitehall and Jacques Emery), powerfully building and breaking the tension of the music.

The concert ended with a surprise encore and world premiere of a reworked (for two clarinet soloists) piece called Ornamental Air. The encore began with a sense of urgency from entire orchestra. This piece continued with the playfulness of the previous works. The clarinets were delicately and deliberately light and harmonious. It was a delightful end to a lovely evening of music that moved me, and took me along a journey through my mind.

To book tickets to Elevator Music, please visit https://www.melbournerecital.com.au/whats-on/current-productions/omega-ensemble-elevator-music.

Photographer: Eloise Coomber

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Aphrodite: Beauty Disassembled

Aphrodite

Aphrodite Rating

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In Sydney Chamber Opera’s Aphrodite, the act of looking becomes its own kind of violence. Composed by acclaimed American composer Nico Muhly with a libretto by Laura Lethlean, and presented in association with Omega Ensemble, this striking new work reimagines the goddess of love not as a figure of desire but as a symbol of distortion; a mirror in which the modern self dissolves.

The story follows Ava, a thoughtful academic whose book, The Aphrodite Complex, catapults her to sudden fame after being adapted into a hit documentary. As her public image grows, her personal life fractures. Ava becomes consumed by the pursuit of perfection, sculpting herself for the gaze of others while losing touch with intimacy, authenticity, and selfhood. When the goddess Aphrodite herself appears, cool, composed, and elusive, Ava’s carefully constructed world begins to collapse.

Director Alexander Berlage’s use of live video is both conceptually and theatrically masterful. Cameras flank the stage, embedded in mobile phones, and hang from the ceiling, capturing the performers in extreme close-up. These images, not just of faces but of hands, feet, clothing, trembling skin, are projected on a large screen above the stage, which simultaneously displays the libretto. What emerges is a fragmented portrait of each character: isolated body parts, captured and magnified, turned into objects of scrutiny and aesthetic judgement.

Rather than drawing the audience closer, these hyper-intimate visuals create distance. We are not watching the characters as whole people; we are dissecting them. The body becomes content. Ava becomes an image. Even her moments of vulnerability are caught, cropped, and curated. The overhead camera is particularly cruel: it frames her from above like an anatomical specimen, cold and clinical, as if the goddess herself were observing.

Jessica O’Donoghue gives a deeply affecting performance as Ava, vocally assured and emotionally transparent. Her portrayal balances intellect and fragility, making Ava’s descent into disconnection feel both inevitable and tragic. Puerto Rican soprano Meechot Marrero, in her Australian debut, brings an arresting stillness to Aphrodite. Her presence is magnetic and inscrutable, her voice radiant. She is not temptation incarnate but myth personified; unknowable, unmoved.

Muhly’s score is luminous and precise, shifting between shimmering textures and silences that seem to stretch time. The Omega Ensemble plays with clarity and control, amplifying the opera’s psychological tension without overwhelming its introspective tone.

Aphrodite is a cool, elegant gut-punch of an opera, a work that refuses sentimentality in favour of scalpel-like insight. It’s about beauty, yes, but more importantly, it’s about the cost of being seen only in parts. By disassembling its characters on screen and in sound, it delivers a quietly devastating truth: there can be no connection until we are allowed to exist as whole.

To book tickets to Aphrodite, please visit https://www.sydneychamberopera.com/2025/02/17/aphrodite/.

Photographer: Daniel Boud

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