The second concert of the Auckland Philharmonia Orchestra's Vero series launched a gruelling three-day schedule that would see these busy musicians playing Kiwi Kapers for the youngsters on Friday and orchestrally squiring Dave Dobbyn a night later.
The Vero package, presented as "Great Orchestral Music for Newcomers and Connoisseurs" has
been criticised, but Thursday's good-sized audience attested to the box-office power of Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninov.
A definite bonus was the elegant MC, Elena Stejko, introducing herself by explaining how her glamorous and decollete gown had been provided by Zambesi and that we would soon see pianist Marina Kolomiitseva in a Liz Mitchell creation.
But haute couture alone would not have made the two hours as enjoyable as they were. Stejko's introductions were delivered with an actor's timing, including some stirring recitations in the Russian language.
The orchestra, under Edvard Tchivzhel, was in good form. First up was an obscure Coronation March by Tchaikovsky, a sort of Slavic Land of Hope and Glory, taken with full Tsarist seriousness.
A Russian soloist and conductor in the Rachmaninov Second Concerto was a decided plus, working through emotions that are not always so readily exposed in this part of the world.
Kolomiitseva, with telling touches that revealed her admiration for the composer's own interpretation, was a thoughtful soloist and the orchestra matched her. Woodwind solos in the second movement were beautifully bittersweet, with generous bursts of lyrical rapture from the strings.
After interval, Tchivzhel gave the orchestra a work-out in Tchaikovsky's Capriccio Italien, an outrageously fun-filled and sun-filled bag of tunes, with a few scoring touches that suggest that Pyotr Ilyich would have been a pretty hip lounge composer if he had been working in the 1960s.
Tchivzhel's conducting of the opening brass fanfare, spectacular apart from a few horn tremors, showed precision bordering on the Prussian; his control of every tempo shift a cause for extreme admiration.
Inspired perhaps by Stejko's moving introduction, the opening cello hymn of the 1812 Overture was full and sonorous, and Tchaikovsky's combination of fire, ice and thumping good tunes didn't disappoint. The only let-down, unavoidable with concert-hall regulations, was an electronically simulated cannon.
