New Zealand Symphony Orchestra at the Auckland Town Hall

By WILLIAM DART

A few weeks ago the Auckland Philharmonia gave us Ludwig Rules; now the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra is in town, with not one but two Ludwig! concerts.

It's impossible not to have an opinion about or take a stand on Beethoven, which is in many respects a measure of his greatness.

For Tchaikovsky, he was awe-inspiring (the Russian composer preferred the Christ-like Mozart to the God-like Beethoven); at the other end of the scale Busoni blasted him for introducing bad temper into music.

In New Zealand, Douglas Lilburn, writing in the disillusioned 1930s, was struck by the way in which Beethoven's music had no problems in expressing the triumphant; Katherine Mansfield, in the previous decade, was just as happy with "Caruso on a good gramophone".

On Friday night, conductor James Judd, in a short speech from the podium, described Beethoven as a man of social and political conscience, suggesting that he would have addressed the horrendous injustices of our time had he been working today.

The massive chords launching the Eroica symphony seem more shattering after these thoughts, even at the considerable speed at which the piece is taken. However, Judd and his players understand the crucial balance between broad sweep and intricate detail: one feels the weight of the bold key shifts, the piquancy of the delicately scored side-trips.

The second movement is intensely moving. For Berlioz, this was a funeral procession from Virgil, and one can hear the lingering snap of sidedrum in the lower strings. The second theme is a searing cry from the soul.

After interval, the Allegro of the Fifth Symphony dispenses bolts of lightning with a central section of impeccable clarity. If the Andante con moto is a little too flighty for my taste, compensation comes in a blazing, primal Finale.

In between the two symphonies, Wilma Smith brings authority to the two Romances, although a few blurs of perilous intonation, especially in the F major work, detract from the overall impact.

On Saturday, the Eighth Symphony is a generous first half of the programme. Delivered with gusto, it suffers from the size and power of the orchestra, along with an emotional relentlessness. It is a collection of dances - "the last bright smile given by the poet of human sorrow and hopeless despair," to quote Tchaikovsky - and might have been lighter on its feet.

Judd seems more at home with the mighty Ninth. In the first movement, the directness and sheer force of his conception make brutal, theatrical contrasts. The Scherzo takes no prisoners and the finely honed lyricism of the third movement even admits a touch of glissando in the sweep of its violin lines.

One can always sense a shiver of anticipation when the fourth movement announces itself. The double basses ring out magisterially from across the back of the orchestra and, later, Rodney Macann positively quivers with passion in his O Freunde.

The other three soloists (Patricia Wright, Elizabeth Campbell and Patrick Power) are first rate, even coping with a Rossini crescendo at one point, although the Auckland Choral Society is lacklustre.

Hearing basses straining for top E flat is not a pleasant experience, and the high point of the evening - Judd's sonorous, sustained chord on Gott - was woefully undermined by the sopranos' wavering top A.