Beethoven and the Enchanted Flute

On the afternoon of Saturday 25th October I arrived in Geelong for a concert in Costa Hall, a programme that included Beethoven’s First and Eighth Symphonies and two flute concertos. Two Beethoven symphonies in one concert – who wouldn’t fly a thousand miles for that? Almost as good as the concert in the Musikverein in Vienna ten years ago when the entire programme was Rudolf Buchbinder playing the Brahms first and second piano concertos. It was my first visit to Geelong and as I walked from the station through the centre of town to my hotel on the waterfront I was reminded of just how much Geelong owes its obvious wealth and character to wool. As primary school students in the late 1950s we learned that Australia “rode on the sheep’s back,” and places like Geelong and Warrnambool epitomised that prosperity. At the time it was unimaginable it wouldn’t last forever but it didn’t. Within a few decades the trade that had shaped these cities was no more and the mills had closed.

But the relics are still there. The red brick warehouses built to handle and market wool remain part of Geelong’s identity. Many have been recycled, most notably as part of Deakin University’s Waterfront Campus, where the old structures support new endeavours and Costa Hall is a shining example. The lanolin cured post and beam frames that now house a  performance space look like they will last forever, an industrial past sustaining a cultural future.

The Geelong Symphony Orchestra, predominantly gifted part timers reinforced by a few professionals, is around fifty players strong and reflects the kind of music-making common in Beethoven’s time when orchestras relied on capable local musicians. Under the direction of Richard Davis and guided from the front by concertmaster Markiyan Melnychenko the GSO delivered  well-shaped and confident performances of Beethoven’s First and Eighth Symphonies. It is also worth noting that concerts like this do not simply appear. Outside the capital cities, they depend on dedicated organisers, volunteers and supporters who put in considerable effort for modest recognition. Their commitment makes it possible for communities to hear major repertoire live and close to home.

The program included the world premiere of flute concerto by Alex Turley and commissioned by Andrew Johnson to celebrate his mother’s 93rd birthday. I have learned to brace myself for new orchestral works, even when they appear in otherwise desirable programs. This was a pleasant surprise. It had shape and energy, and there were hints of Morricone, Copland and even Piazzolla. Sally Walker – recently returned from ten years in Germany – played the solo role with assurance and panache. You could tell that Mrs Johnson enjoyed it and it was a reminder contemporary music doesn’t always make you squirm.

After the Turley came Vivaldi’s Flute Concerto No. 3, also played by Walker. Placed where it was, the piece offered a different kind of perspective: a reminder of the flute’s long association with lightness, storytelling and a sense of wonder. At one point I found myself thinking of Papageno in The Magic Flute, lamenting and hoping in equal measure. Whether the programmers intended that connection or whether the concert title – Beethoven and the Enchanted Flute – simply planted the idea, it fitted comfortably enough.

Hearing this mixture of familiar and unfamiliar works in a hall shaped by Geelong’s former industry brought several threads together: a community orchestra performing music from three centuries; a city that has adapted its past to serve education and culture; and an audience able to enjoy both without leaving home. Geelong may have lost its wool industry and more recently, its car industry, but it has a wonderful symphony orchestra and a brilliant concert hall that will be there regardless of what the future brings.