New Zealand Symphony Orchestra at the Auckland Town Hall

By WILLIAM DART


American violinist Hilary Hahn came to town as one of the NZSO's star attractions and left with her star shining more brightly than ever.

The Friday concerto was Paganini's First, a patchy work with a relentlessly prolix first movement. Hahn's shimmering opal-flecked gown seemed to reflect her glittering virtuosics and she was clearly enjoying being composer's advocate, occasionally joining in with the orchestral tutti.

The rollicking Rondo may have been the crowd-pleaser, but it was Hahn's creamy-toned Adagio that revealed a deeper artistry.

Saturday's Barber Concerto was familiar repertoire, the work that garnered Hahn a Grammy nomination in 1999.

In the more languorous moments, her tone was sweet though never cloying, perfect for those who feel that we over-emphasise the Concerto's neo-romantic character. Hahn was more poised here, taking a firm lead in matters of phrasing, although the Finale was diabolic in its intensity.

Two Bach encores were models of assurance. A Sarabande was divinely double-stopped while a Gigue showed that full tone and tenacity of line are always a winning combination.

Conductor Christian Gansch made his debut with the NZSO a year ago, when he deputised for Franz Paul Decker in two concerts balancing Spanish musical tapas with heartier Bayreuth fare.

There were some light and tasty offerings this time, too. Friday's La Cenerentola Overture was like a crisp Rossini salad, immeasurably lifted by the tang of woodwind and al dente rhythms. On Saturday, Beethoven's Congratulations Minuet was graceful enough in its playing but, for my taste, swamped by orchestral overload.

Watching Gansch on the podium was revealing. Copland's Appalachian Spring registered as a complete scenario, painstakingly set up from the opening wisps of woodwind to the final string resolution. Gansch made every prick and point of colour register and the orchestra responded magnificently.

There were special insights with the two major symphonic offerings. Schubert's Great C major Symphony was all that and more. The heavenly lengths that Schumann admired were appropriately Olympian. Not so elevated, mind you, that the feet didn't often twitch to dance, or that one didn't shiver with excitement at those primal outbursts.

Similar revelations took place with Mozart's Jupiter Symphony on Saturday. Once again, Gansch's body movements reflected volatile moods, especially in the first movement, where a passing hand-on-heart might alert violins to a streak of sentiment. There was solemnity, but rarely without a Puckish strain; if there were any gods here, they were deities of colour and light.

In the slow movement, I was impressed by Gansch's ability to weave melodies out of the texture where least expected and follow them through. The Minuet couldn't help but break out into unabashed waltz at one point while the noble Finale was the perfect conclusion to a weekend of exemplary music-making.