New Zealand Symphony Orchestra at Auckland Town Hall

By WILLIAM DART

It has been Christmas in July for Aucklanders, with not one but two visits from the NZSO. Impressive under Yoel Levi a fortnight ago, they were even more at the weekend, with James Judd at the helm.

Ravel's Mother Goose was first up on Friday night. After a minor tremble of co-ordination, the players effortlessly lured us into an evanescent world of Ravelian enchantment.

The orchestra lingered on the French side when Steven Isserlis joined them for Dutilleux's Tout un Monde Lointain.

A jokey introduction augured worryingly but, as Isserlis' passionate cello lines rose and fell against whispering percussion, we had again been captivated.

Ravel had been the perfect introduction, as climaxes dissolved into the cavernous sounds of tam tam and the work was driven along by the restless dialogue between soloist and orchestra, breaking into full, unfettered song, when leader Vesa-Matti Leppanen joined Isserlis in duet.

All this and an encore too, as Isserlis, furiously plucking and strumming, evoked the Georgian chonguri lute in a short piece by Tsintsadze.

After interval the orchestra took us for a vigorous stroll in the countryside, courtesy of Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony. Tempi were sprightly, textures apart from the forecast - and thrillingly belligerent - storm were clear, and Beethoven's brook rippled invitingly.

Saturday night opened with Webern's arrangement of the Ricercare from Bach's Musical Offering, a singular work, reweaving Bach from within and releasing soundworlds some might not have dreamed existed. Judd and his players gauged it to perfection, tempering any severity with the occasional Viennese gemutlichkeit.

On Friday, Isserlis had acknowledged his conductor as co-pilot in the Dutilleux; James Judd was all that and more on Saturday with the Dvorak Concerto, taking his players to the outer limits of expressiveness and gusto.

The English cellist delivered that rare lyricism that comes with the sound of bow on gut string, and was so much at one with his colleagues that, during one of the Finales' tutti, his face wreathed in smiles, he seemed to be on the point of playing along with the orchestra.

There was no wild Slavic encore this time, but an artless Catalan folksong arranged by Pablo Casals.

Presenting Webern's Variations Opus 27 as a brief encounter was inspired. String ensemble was occasionally tested but nuancing was generally excellent.

Bells, organ, and hyper-energetic orchestra joined the wild fray of Janacek's Taras Bulba. Janacek's triptych of death masks brings full-blooded lyricism and jarring modernism together, face to face, in one of the most spine-tingling scores ever written. For 20 minutes, the NZSO generated the sort of fervour and excitement that, thank goodness, recorded imitations can never hope to simulate.