This splendid concert, which took place in the concert hall of the SOH on Oct 16, 2026, featured three works, played by the Sydney Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Donald Runnicles: the Australian premiere of a short work entitled Orpheus’ Comet, written by the Bulgarian-British composer Dobrinka Tabakova; Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto in D, Op 35, with the featured soloist from South Korea, Bomsori Kim; and Beethoven’s Symphony No 7 in A major, Op 92.
The Tabakova work was extremely interesting in that the music began with an uncanny representation of the sound of a swarm of buzzing bees. Otherwise, as it was a work written in 2017 with which I was totally unfamiliar, I found that I wasn’t left with a clear impression of it. However, I heard enough to indicate that Tabakova certainly had a comprehensive knowledge of how to write for the symphony orchestra, a not inconsiderable talent in today’s world. Her writing was pleasingly melodic, without the somewhat notorious abstraction which alienates some listeners doing their best to understand the sort of symphonic writing adopted by some contemporary composers.
The highlight of the evening was indisputably the brilliant performance of the violin concerto by Bomsori Kim. A very physical performer in front of the SSO, with much body movement, she wore what was described by my accompanying (female) friend as a light brown tiered dress. In the main, the sound of her violin was crystal clear throughout the performance, other than the odd occasion when the orchestral sound accompanying her was a little too forceful, so one had to strain to hear clearly what she was playing.
My friend, whose judgment I highly value, endorsed my opinion on this sound balance problem. It was the one negative thought we both had on an otherwise successful performance. She agreed that this minor problem was an irritation, as we were both up for hearing the beautiful lines which Tchaikovsky had written in the concerto for the soloist to play.
Whenever a sound maladjustment such as this happens – even if it’s only relatively minor, it’s debatable as to who is responsible. Still, it’s an important question on which to ponder, as music, when it all comes down to first principles, is only sound. But it’s complicated. Perhaps the way in which the sound reaches our ears, is a function of where one is sitting in the venue; perhaps it’s the fault of the conductor Runnicles who, in rehearsing the SSO, may not have emphasised enough that certain passages played by the orchestra should be pianissimo, lest they drown out the soloist who’s after all playing a violin, the sort of instrument that sometimes doesn’t project with power. Still, who knows where the truth lies?
As usual with many orchestral works of the 19th Century, the back story behind Tchaikovsky’s violin concerto is as interesting as the music itself. The concerto was premiered on December 4, 1881, with the Russian violinist Adolf Brodsky playing the solo part. In earlier years Tchaikovsky had gone through a grave crisis, with his marriage to Antonina Milyukova, a former student of his at the Moscow Conservatory, having fallen apart in 1877, after only 11 weeks. During this time Tchaikovsky, a homosexual in a time when homosexuality was frowned upon, had been in love with a young violinist and student at the Conservatory Iosif Kotek, a passion which was unrequited. This may have partly prompted Tchaikovsky’s decision to marry Milyukova. Kotek however remained a platonic friend to the composer, and was to play a key role in the gestation of the violin concerto.
In the spring of 1878, Tchaikovsky travelled to Clarens in Switzerland to recuperate from depression and a near breakdown, and spent some time in an idyllic setting on Lake Geneva. He was joined there by Kotek, who happened to play through Édouard Lalo’s Symphonie espagnole. Tchaikovsky was so inspired by this piece that he dropped his work on a piano sonata and instead chose to write the violin concerto. As Tchaikovsky did not play the violin himself, he relied on Kotek to test out passages, check whether they were playable, and offer feedback on violin technique as the piece was being written.
Tchaikovsky knocked out the work within a few weeks, and the result was what I hear as a somewhat happy concerto, without the angst which bedevilled other of his works, such as his Symphony No 5.
The dedication and premiere of the solo concerto was problematic for obvious reasons. Dedicating it to Kotek was out of the question, and anyway Kotek declined to play it at the premiere. Initially Tchaikovsky had wanted the Hungarian violin virtuoso Leopold Auer to perform it, but Auer turned it down, considering the violin part to be unplayable. In the end, Tchaikovsky dedicated his concerto to the Russian violinist Brodsky, who performed it at the premiere in Vienna in 1881.
In the concert hall in Sydney, Bomsori Kim certainly found the concerto playable. No suggestion of unplayability here; in fact, she had palpably mastered the work. She received a typically warm reception from a full house in the concert hall, perhaps the warmest reception of all the concerto soloists who’ve recently graced the stage with the SSO. The applause went on and on, indicating that Bomsori would not be allowed to leave the stage without playing an encore. She obliged with a short work, which she played solo, Fritz Kreisler’s Schön Rosmarin (Fair Rosemary) from his Viennese Dance Tunes Suite.
When Bomsori emerged from the wings for her encore, she addressed the audience in a very soft voice, presumably to introduce the piece. Everyone was hanging on her every word, but distressingly it was impossible to hear her. The friend who accompanied me, whose hearing is excellent, also could not decipher what Bomsori was saying. I feel that an audience’s affection for such a brilliant musician, especially after the prolonged tension of sitting through such a moving concerto, should not be underestimated. Naturally we’re curious to hear the artist’s voice; we are in the mood to relate to her.
I feel therefore it would be a good idea in the future, when such an artist decides to play an encore, that they be provided with a microphone, so that 2,500 members of an audience can hear clearly what is being said. I don’t think it would be beyond an attendant to hand a microphone to the artist on the way to the podium, and wait to rescue it after a short speech. Little things mean a lot, and hearing Bomsori’s voice after hearing her music would have been very welcome.
Nonetheless, I felt that Bomsori’s performance was good enough to echo the magnificent rendition of another Tchaikovsky work, his piano concerto No 1, in August, 2026. That performance featured another brilliant South Korean virtuoso, the pianist Yeol Eum Son. Hearing those two South Korean musicians has been a memorable highlight of my listening to the SSO during 2026.
After the interval Donald Runnicles, principal guest conductor with the SSO, was back to conduct Beethoven’s Symphony No 7. On September 15 last I attended conductor Benjamin Northey’s fascinating analysis of this symphony in the “Listen To This” series, and was looking forward to hearing live in the concert hall the uninterrupted work; a work that Beethoven himself was only able to hear in his head, owing to the poor state of his hearing by December 1813, when the work was premiered in Vienna.
This was such a high energy performance by Runnicles on the podium, that at the end of the performance, which took around 35 minutes, the conductor appeared to be out on his feet, thoroughly exhausted. One could put this down, I expect, to the fact that Beethoven’s No 7 is characterised by relentless rhythmic energy; it’s certainly the most rhythmic of Beethoven’s nine symphonies, and no doubt requires a conductor who’s extremely fit. The physical body language shown by Runnicles certainly suggested a passionate attachment to the work.
It’s also interesting, is it not, that in common with many great 19th Century orchestral works, that are now indispensable parts of the standard repertoire today, Beethoven’s symphony was not universally applauded? After hearing the symphony the German composer Carl Maria von Weber said that Beethoven was “ripe for the madhouse!” Clara Schumann’s father, Friedrich Wieck, thought that “this symphony – particularly the first and the last movements – could only have been written in a state of inebriation.” The English conductor Sir Thomas Beecham said of the third movement: “What can you do with it? It’s like a lot of yaks jumping about.”
Still the German composer, theatre director, and conductor Richard Wagner, best known for his operas, was a fan. He said, of Beethoven’s symphony, “Here every impetuosity, every longing and ranting of the heart becomes a blissful exuberance of joy.” The premiere of the work in 1813 was so successful that it was considered a great triumph for Beethoven; the second movement of the symphony, the Allegretto, had to be encored. Also we know that Beethoven himself considered No 7 to be one of his best symphonies, and he held to that opinion throughout the rest of his life.
Donald Runnicles delivered a scintillating reading of this great Beethoven work, bringing the concert to a momentous close. Runnicles well deserved the numerous curtain calls he received from a packed, appreciative concert hall audience. In an ideal world, I would have liked to have heard the Allegretto again, to duplicate what transpired at the work’s premiere in 1813. But no such luck; I’m yet to hear the SSO repeat a movement of the symphony just played; perhaps that’s no longer a possibility in today’s world. But I’ll be listening to this concert again when it’s broadcast on ABC Classic in the near future.
This concert took place in the concert hall of the Sydney Opera House on Oct 16, 2026, and featured three works, played by the Sydney Symphony Orchestra, and conducted by Donald Runnicles: the Australian premiere of a work entitled Orpheus’ Comet, composed by Dobrinka Tabakova; Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto in D, Op 35, with the featured soloist from South Korea, Bomsori Kim; and Beethoven’s Symphony No 7 in A major, Op 92.
