Alexander Gavrylyuk despite his modest and retiring stage presence unleashed a powerhouse performance of Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini which was the undoubted highlight of the Sydney Symphony’s sea-themed concert, An Ocean of Sound, under Nicholas Carter.
When the Steinway grand piano was wheeled onto the stage before the interval, a quiet ripple of anticipation moved through the audience. Alexander Gavrylyuk, slight in build and unassuming in manner, walked out to warm, sustained applause. He is a longtime favourite with Sydney audiences and the SSO, and the expectation was clear: we were about to hear him in one of his signature works.
Rachmaninoff remains one of the last great Romantics. Firmly rooted in the late-Romantic tradition, he largely rejected the modernist trends of his era, continuing to write emotionally direct, melodically rich music. The Rhapsody is a brilliant set of 24 variations on Paganini’s famous violin caprice, packed with virtuosic fireworks, dark humour, and passionate lyricism. It has become one of the most beloved and marketable classical works of the 20th century, thanks largely to the famous 18th Variation.
Gavrylyuk, trained in the Russian piano school tradition from age seven in Kharkiv (Ukraine), possesses a natural idiomatic command of this repertoire. Like Rachmaninoff, he employs a very physical, weight-oriented technique that delivers thunderous climaxes while retaining control and warmth. He attacked the fast variations with power and precision, while shaping the lyrical sections, with long flowing phrases and a warm, rich tone. The audience erupted at the end, calling him back for an encore of Rachmaninoff’s Vocalise.
Nicholas Carter, returning as a guest conductor, proved once again why he feels like an old friend of the orchestra. Having served as Assistant (chosen by Vladimir Ashkenazy) and later Associate Conductor with the SSO in the late 2000s and early 2010s, he brought clear, confident leadership and a highly physical, energetic style that drew vibrant playing from every section.
The program opened with Benjamin Britten’s Four Sea Interludes from Peter Grimes. Originally written as practical scene-change music for the opera, Britten quickly recognised their concert potential, re-ordering and reshaping them into a standalone suite. These four vivid portraits capture the sea in dramatically different moods.
What struck me most was Britten’s masterful orchestration. He applies the divisi technique not only to the strings but across the entire orchestra, dividing sections into multiple independent layers that create genuinely three-dimensional textures. Yet the parts never blur: each layer remains structurally clear and easy to follow. The SSO strings, led by concertmasters Andrew Haveron and Alexandra Osborn, sounded particularly rich — the upper strings shimmering brightly in the higher registers while the lower ones provided weight and resonance without any muddiness. Woodwinds and horns contributed strong individual personalities: flutes suggested seabirds, clarinets offered agile, darting commentary, and the horns rang out like church bells in “Sunday Morning.” The result was vivid and theatrical, with every element distinct yet perfectly integrated.
The wild card of the evening was the Australian premiere of Jeanne Demessieux’s Poème, Op. 9, with David Drury as soloist. This lush, secular late-Romantic work inhabits a world far removed from the solemn liturgical organ music we usually associate with churches. Instead of hymns, it offers a poetic, symphonic dialogue between a virtuoso organ and full orchestra. In David Drury’s hands, the organ never felt like a dominant soloist shouting over the orchestra. Instead, it acted as a highly versatile and sensitive partner — capable of mimicking different sections of the ensemble, speaking softly behind the woodwinds with delicate, flute- or reed-like colours, or quietly reinforcing the power of the horns without overpowering them. I had imagined the mighty Sydney Opera House organ might overpower everything, but the performance instead highlighted the lyrical and expressive qualities of Poème. I was particularly struck by the piece’s architectural rising and falling gestures, especially the long stair like descents. It was a rare treat to hear this hidden gem of the French organ repertoire brought so convincingly to life.
Closing the performance was Debussy’s orchestral masterpiece La Mer. Subtitled ‘Three Symphonic Sketches,’ it avoids rigid classical form in favour of open, fluid structures that evoke the sea through sensations of light, movement and power. Debussy works with short motifs that constantly evolve and derive from one another across the movements, creating a web of sound rather than a straight path. The orchestra doesn’t play in blocks but in overlapping conversations. The divided strings, harps, percussion and horns blend into ever-changing timbral textures. The SSO handled these demands with great skill, particularly the build to the blazing “noon” climax in the first movement. On first hearing I found it harder to follow. The music exists in such a constant flux, that eventually I had to just relax and let the music wash over me.
This was a stimulating and well-conceived program that showcased both the power and the subtlety of the Sydney Symphony. Special mention to Hugh Robertson for his engaging pre-concert talk. The appreciative audience left buzzing — another reminder of why live orchestral music remains so thrilling.
Photographs courtesy of the Sydney Symphony Orchestra.
