Danceworks launches WASO’s Underground Series at State Theatre Centre, with Otto Tausk and Musical Mavericks

Conductor Otto Tausk brought a Dutch treat to WA Symphony Orchestra’s new Underground Series this week with Danceworks at the State Theatre Centre. Featuring the Hague School of composer Louis Andriessen, Tausk’s choice of Musical Mavericks from his native Netherlands challenged the intimate setting of Studio Underground with genre-bending works crossing boundaries from classical to pop and jazz. Adjustable Wrench, by the aptly named Michael Torke, opened in woodwind offbeats leading in smooth brass and strings for a breezy ambience, crisp and articulate. Tausk’s sharp gestures constantly spurred on the pace, driving a dance measure of sorts, if a tad robotic. It was a new way to experience WASO’s artistry, eye-poppingly close and personal with each voice in the 16-strong group clear and distinct; coalescing to a denser timbre before cutting out abruptly in cool jazz mode. Andriessen’s four-part Dances suite filled out the first half, with strings flooding the stage to the exclusion of woodwind and brass. Piano, percussion and harp established a sparse rhythmic soundscape to which Daniel Schmitt’s viola introduced melody, starkly mellow, drawing in a cushion of strings beneath the percussive lead. Dramatic chords gave relief to a placid palette, with harp (Kate Moloney) in full flow, as Tausk shaped sound towards a restful cadence. Balmy strings led in the second stanza, a serene setting for soprano Sara Macliver to intone an Egyptian fable of “naked girls, slender as reeds”; a pagan tale, earthy yet crystalline in the solo drifting effortlessly over a reed-like oscillation of violins and violas. Cellos and basses built dramatic intent towards a stormy crisis in music and narrative, ebbing again through harp as the wind died and soprano tolled out the conclusion over deftly controlled strings. Brisk chords, regular as clockwork, stirred the mix as Macliver amped up the action in the third section; an assignation with Pharaoh spilling out in a confession of despair. Urgent rhythms buoyed the soprano, soaring to operatic heights then falling to silence over tortured, crushed chords. Finally came a lament, with regret and longing combined in dark harmonies and siren-like soprano lead; a delicate dirge playing out as the haunting clockwork motif returned to close in pathos. After the interval, brass and woodwind returned with piano, percussion and minimal strings for Martijn Padding’s programmatic Slow March to Moscow, channeling Napoleon’s fateful 1812 campaign. Piano discords, plodding like truculent troops, painted a poignant scene, with percussion, string and wind interjections, vocal mutterings and anguished atonal flourishes. More foot-slogging than toe-tapping, strident pops and squeaks hinted at hardships and aggravation as a brittle edge to piano seemed to signal danger close. Sullen drums flagged hidden hazards before a whimsical cadence brought relief. At the last, Steve Martland’s four-part Dance Works brought on saxophones, electric guitars and violin for an amplified big band sound complete with brass and piano. Jarring jazz riffs rang out like a dystopian fanfare and robust figures rippled across the ensemble as Tausk set a strict tempo to what he called music to sit back and accept; overtly complex yet in essence quite elemental. For the second stanza, trumpeter Jenna Smith switched to the more mellow flugel horn; in jazz terms a sure sign of a seachange, as deeply rumbling piano (Adam Pinto) anchored a darker, more introspective mood. Alexandra Isted’s hard-wired violin lent a gritty edge to an otherwise full palette, down to a sudden dismount. In the third section, pulsing guitars and piano ignited flashes and fragments of melody in shards of sound that demanded the acceptance Tausk recommended; a pragmatic Dutch approach to an unrelenting beat. For the finale, even more rhythmic mayhem propelled the band from one figure to the next with manic resolve as kinetic effects overtook aesthetics in an inexorable drive to a crash-bang conclusion. WASO returns to Studio Underground on November 6 and 7 with Pandaemonium.