Featured image – the concert’s conductor, Russian Dimitry Matvienko
This concert featured works by Prokofiev, Mozart and Beethoven but the spirit of another composer was in the air, even though no works of his were on the program: the Austrian Joseph Haydn, perhaps the best-known composer of the Classical period circa 1750-1800.
The major 20th Century composer Sergei Prokofiev wrote his short 15-minute Symphony No 1 during the summer of 1917 at the height of the Russian Revolution. He was staying in a country house with no piano available, so he took it upon himself to write a work from his imagination. It’s accepted that he wished to write a work with a Classical aesthetic, which has been described as “a gentle parody of, if not tribute to, the classical symphonies of Haydn in particular”.
Certainly Prokofiev achieved what he set out to do, in the sense that his symphony exemplified the sort of order and restraint reminiscent of the Classical period, and minimised the sort of imagination and emotion which characterised the subsequent Romantic period which Beethoven inhabited.
Still, this work still has the authentic flavour of Prokofiev. Its orchestral sound and freely moving harmonies show that Prokofiev here was still distinctly Prokofiev. This is not the sort of symphony that Haydn might have written. It’s breathtaking in its own way, and the SSO played it faultlessly. What can a music reviewer say about such an immaculate reading of a well-known work?
In the case of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, he was of course a contemporary of Haydn’s. They were the two greatest composers of the Classical period, even though Mozart, being 24 years younger, and therefore of a new generation, palpably eclipsed Haydn over time as a composer. We know they were friends, and admired one another’s music. Mozart had much affection for Haydn and nicknamed him “Papa Haydn”.
It’s not controversial to say that the link to Haydn is identifiable in most of Mozart’s music, including his Violin Concerto No 5, composed in 1775 when he was still a relatively young man of 19.
The Japanese violinist Akiko Suwanai, who played this concerto, looked much younger than her 53 years, and wore a body-length bright red dress, providing a stunning visual image. The extravagance of her appearance worked to offset her immaculate performance, which was neither extravagant nor showy in any way; rather it exemplified the sort of discipline and attention to detail, characteristic of the Classical aesthetic. There were no dramatic flourishes in her style, and only minimal body movements. And to cap it all, her sound on the violin was as clear as a bell, projecting well to where I was sitting.
I love the joyousness in Mozart’s music, a quality very much on the surface. However, there’s another more deep seated sensibility which underlies his music, which I think of as a yearning quality. Some have referred to this as sadness, which may be true in a sense. But what I’m thinking of is a melancholy quality which might be tinged with sadness but is probably more to do with longing, nostalgia or perhaps a keen awareness of life’s unpredictable vicissitudes.
Anyway, I believe this latter quality is the key to Mozart’s enduring popularity, and I felt I was hearing it clearly in Suwanai’s impeccable version. While I’m no expert on Haydn’s symphonies – he wrote 104 – I don’t believe one finds this quality very much in his music.
In particular I was drawn to the more ruminative passages in this work. For example the cadenza towards the end of the first movement about ten minutes in; and many passages in the second movement, the Adagio. At these moments I found Suwanai’s playing extraordinarily moving.
Beethoven’s Symphony No 4 (1806), sandwiched between his No 3 (Eroica) and the monumental No 5 has been called by Robert Schumann a “slender Grecian maiden between two Nordic giants”. It’s also been suggested that this symphony could well be a tribute to the Haydn of his late Symphony No 102, which is in the same key.
Note the first movement of Beethoven’s work. It’s not the first time that Beethoven began a symphony with a slow introduction but, as usual, Beethoven lulls the listener into perhaps a false sense of security before the fireworks: powerful chords at fortissimo, which prompts one to sit upright. As in the case of Prokofiev, Beethoven here is still Beethoven, even in a work which justifiably can be regarded as relatively slight. My own feeling is that, while the 4th Symphony may not be a monumental work by Beethoven’s standards, it is still a gem, full of interest.
The evening’s conductor, the Russian Dimitry Matvienko, was in many ways the obverse to Suwanai. His body language was showy, and full of dramatic flourishes. It’s odd that his biography omits his date of birth, so we have to guess at his age. But he is apparently relatively young, and came to prominence as a conductor without first serving an apprenticeship as a leading instrumentalist, which is unusual. He was born in Belarus, the landlocked republic to the north of Ukraine, with Russia to its east, and Poland and Baltic countries on its western side.
With the SSO sounding so rich and beautiful, much credit has to be given to Matvienko for the sound produced, although one can’t be sure whether this should be put down to the conductor’s expertise, or to the new acoustics in the Concert Hall, or to the brilliance of the musicians in the SSO. Perhaps it’s a combination of all of the above.
Throughout the three works, Matvienko had a habit of looking to the side at the end of a movement, which I found very appealing. If this was a jazz review I’d describe him as hip. His vigorous conducting style considerably added to the drama on stage, particularly during the Beethoven work. During the final movement of the symphony, the Allegro ma non troppo, an exciting movement taken at breakneck speed, we saw Matvienko often with his hands in the air, and swaying body movements which suggested a genuine feeling for the music.
Beethoven builds the tension during this final movement brilliantly so that the work climaxes and ends somewhat abruptly. On the final chord Matvienko stood stiffly upright which palpably encouraged applause. Here was a conductor who knew how to play to an audience.
As for sound quality at this concert, this was the first time I’ve heard classical music in the Concert Hall since the acoustic enhancements completed in 2022, involving new reflectors and diffusers. I understand that the members of the SSO can now clearly hear what is being played by musicians in the other sections of the orchestra, which surely must be a boon.
The breaking of my own drought in the Concert Hall on August 29 was a wonderful experience. The elasticity in the SSO’s sound was a revelation, far superior to that which one hears on recordings or YouTube. Soft passages were as clear as a bell. The depth of sound in the music was remarkable; for example the double basses sounded exceedingly strong, but were never too loud. I’m familiar with Beethoven’s No 4, and have never heard the work before with such clear separation of sound between the various sections of the orchestra.
Overall, this concert highlighted for me the essentially mellow quality of symphonic music when it’s heard live, whereas the same music on records invariably sounds more strident.
This concert took place at the Concert Hall of the Sydney Opera House on Friday August 29, 2025, and featured violinist Akiko Suwanai, and the Sydney Symphony Orchestra conducted by Dimitry Matvienko.
