Missa Gaia at the Auckland Town Hall

The message of Paul Winters' Missa Gaia is a worthy one, as summarised by conductor Brian Law before Saturday's performance: to praise the togetherness of all creatures along with the beauty of the Earth and its inhabitants.

After a full-blooded karanga from Te Ropu o Te Kotahitanga, the combined forces of Auckland Choral, Christchurch Civic Choir and two boys' choirs from each city gave us their big Brother Sun, Sister Moon number.

Behind a streamlined, amplified band, the sound of about 200 choristers seemed strangely ponderous.

Images of wolves appeared on screens and an animal howl morphed into the descending wail of Ian Edwards' soprano sax.

It was a transfixing moment, but sabotaged by the leaden choral Kyrie which followed, underlaid with relentless South American rhythms.

"Got the idea?" Law interrupted cheerily, when the audience rested from clapping along with a funky Beatitudes.

It was the first of many chatty interpolations, and whatever cumulative power the work might have exerted seemed doomed.

Questions arose. Why did the promising Brittenesque crispness of the boys' Les Petits Troubadours degenerate into mush?

How could one be prepared for the horror of the plainchant Ubi caritas being chintzed-up with Paul Halley's new-age harmonies?

Musical banality was the order of the night, peaking in the country waltz of The Blue Green Hills of Earth.

After anodyne tunes such as this, and other hymns which inspire audience participation, what wouldn't one have given for a sturdy, no-nonsense Martin Luther chorale.

The Christchurch kapa haka group Te Ropu o Te Kotahitanga added the Kiwi touch. They lauded the tui with big-voiced affection and the eagle with a waiata that sounded like the missing link between My Sweet Lord and One Fine Day.

Then it was the turn of the flax bush, saluted in the witty Mahi Piupiu, as the singers combined personal advice and weaving manual in the one song.

Gospel singer Theresa Thomason was the class act, her quivering vocals providing some much-needed rapture. Alone, with only Halley on the Town Hall organ, she gave the evening its spiritual heart with a tender rendition of the 19th-century hymn Come thou font of every blessing.