Daniel Boico, 2019, (Photo: Kelemen Gergő) 
To concert-goers, a Johannesburg Philharmonic Orchestra (JPO) season may simply be a matter of a short venture to Parktown, and an hour or two of reposeful listening. But the event is the outcome of tenacious and dedicated efforts by administrators, technicians, marketers and, above all, the musicians.
And yet, as much as hard work is necessary, factors that keep devoted listeners returning originate from the ether. There’s the fulfilling pleasure of hearing finely crafted works treated with care and consideration. There’s the ineffable human connection when inner worlds are shared through art. And there’s the miraculous alchemy by which a series of pitches, rhythms and timbres is transmuted into an exalted emotional experience, sometimes even a spiritual one.
Canon of classics
Half the work of gratifying an audience is already done by the composer, before the concert (centuries before, as is invariably the case with the JPO). The revered canon of classics supplies sure-fire hits like the Emperor Concerto, the New World Symphony and The Four Seasons, and some programmes can seem like a randomised mix-and-match of such dependable works. Other than Roelof Temmingh’s anodyne Clarinet Concerto, there would be no clue that the orchestra was being managed in 21st-century South Africa rather than, say, by a dowdy aunt from North America or Europe.
Sometimes leaning so heavily on an ossified core repertoire is a drag, like watching reruns of old sitcoms, or being told the same story over and over. An Early Spring line-up of retreads of Weber, Mendelssohn, Dvořák, Tchaikovsky, Schumann and Beethoven inspired very little arousal ahead of the season.
On the other hand, great music remains great when it isn’t tired out. I’ve particularly enjoyed the unofficial JPO series surrounding the 150th birthday of the Russian composer Rachmaninoff, both a great artist for the ages and a reliable crowd-pleaser since the days of Tsar Nicholas II.
Rhapsodic Rachmaninoff
On the chilly first night of the Winter Season (which sold out well in advance), we heard Rachmaninoff’s
style="font-weight: 400;">Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, a 1934 joy-ride through late-Romantic tropes and Gershwin-inspired delights. The soloist was the young Bulgarian pianist Emanuil Ivanov, whose confidence and skill belied his youth. I was surprised to learn later that it was his first time performing the Rhapsody, which I never would have guessed, so ably and gleefully did he perform each of the 24 variations.
Above all, the performance highlighted the great moment-to-moment joy of Rachmaninoff’s work, alight with jumping, dancing, glittering, whirling, creeping, marching, swooning, shining, shimmering, splendidness… Variation Nine has a jumping syncopated rhythm in A minor, with the piano running against the orchestra’s beat. It sounded like a chase scene in the hard-boiled black-and-white Humphrey Bogart movies.
Variation Ten has the traditional Dies Irae chant hammered out in the brass, an enduring obsession of Rachmaninoff’s. In Variation Twenty-Three, the energy is further heightened when he ratchets the key upwards a couple of times in quick succession (think Beyoncé’s
/file/dailymaverick/wp-content/uploads/2023/09/doutre-1.jpg "Pinaist Etsuko Hirose. (Photo: Courtesy of the artist, on the website www.etsukohirose.com)")