Erin Harrington reviews the Christchurch Symphony Orchestra’s concert Matariki Around the World, led by creative director Juanita Hepi and conductor Nathaniel Griffiths, at the James Hay Auditorium, Wednesday 5 July 2023.
There is something very moving about the way that Matariki is being enthusiastically embraced on a national scale as something unique to this place, its history, and its people. Signs of a maturing culture, or something like that, as well as a welcome reprieve from the darkness of winter. The installation of Matariki as an official holiday last year was years and years in the making, a proper battle, although I note that in the last year or two the naysayers have gone quiet pretty quick. Two key, interrelated things act as particular drivers of positive social change like this: one, embracing the power of stories and storytelling (especially, in this case, as led by Māori creatives), and two, getting kids in on the game, as what’s normal and fun for them will carry on through.
The Christchurch Symphony Orchestra’s school holidays concert Matariki Around the World, helmed by multidisciplinary storyteller Juanita Hepi, is a clear case study in how this can happen succesfully. Just as the stars cluster together, this concert shows how diverse musical forms can combine to create something bigger than their individual parts. The nimble hour-long programme adapts the illustrated book of the same name by broadcaster Miriama Kamo and astronomer Rangi Matamua, which was released last year. The book features nine stories about the Matariki stars, and nine stories exploring how other cultures around the world also celebrate the star cluster. It’s lovely; check it out.
It’s story time, then, with full orchestra, as conducted by Nathaniel Griffiths, as well as singers, text, movement, light and colour. The wonderful Miriama Kamo is our host and narrator. She is placed to the right of the orchestra in an oversized armchair, next to a vintage standing lamp, in what feels like a cozy story nook. She reads to us warmly between the musical works, her performance emphasising the book’s playful, conversational tone. It’s a treat to hear the words on the page in her own voice; I’m a bit in love. We start with the cultural significance of Matariki and its individual stars, alongside their relationship to atua Māori and other pūrākau. We then move on to three of the international stories. A key theme is about celebrating, simultaneously, the importance of cultural specificity, commonality and connection. Throughout the performance some of the book’s colourful, painterly illustrations, by Isobel Joy Te Aho-White, are projected onto a screen above the musicians.
The first half of the programme showcases contemporary works about Matariki specifically, from some of Aotearoa’s best composers. Te Ahukaramū Charles Royal’s orchestral work “Matariki” foregrounds taonga pūoro. Mahina-Ina Kingi-Kaui works a porotiti that whirs as if its breathing life into the space. As the piece unfurls she plays through a table full of instruments including an array of flutes and a full-throated pūtātara, each contributing to a growing set of voices. Staccato woodwind are met by broad strings and gentle brass as singer Rebecca Ryan narrates the story of Matariki. Joy, hope, remembrance, reverence. There is a sympathetic relationship between this storytelling and the timings and phrasing of the orchestra; perhaps this can be our Peter and the Wolf? Yes please.
Ryan, a soprano, moves to the centre of the stage to sing Dame Gillian Whitehead’s stunning “Matariki”. This short, evocative work in te reo Māori for solo voice sounds as if Ryan is calling the stars over the horizon. Its lyrics remind us of the need to look to the past while celebrating the present. Voice and taonga pūoro are also central to “Matariki” by Ariana Tikao and Leyton Glen, which first appeared on Tikao’s album Tuia and is arranged for orchestra by Phil Brownlee. The piece starts with the skittering sound of stone on stone, which leads into the steady chant of a waiata delivered by six singers (including Tikao) first in unison, then in harmony and as a looping round. This is a compelling piece – a fusion of taonga pūoro, contemporary orchestration, and the rhythms of dance music – but there is a sense of uncertainty in the collective vocal performance that dilutes the work’s impact.
The second half of the programme, like the book itself, looks offshore. It offers short, impactful works with a strong sense of narrative, each programmed in conversation with another culture’s framing of the star cluster. It’s a neat conceit. The Chinese story of Mao, the “hairy head of the white tiger of the west”, is partnered with Bao Yuankai’s charming “Dialogue on Flowers”, from his 1991 suite Chinese Sights and Sounds. The work marries the brisk to and fro of Chinese folk songs with Western orchestration – bright, rhythmic, and joyful. A conversation bounces between the woodwind section, while knuckles on tambourine recall falling petals, suggesting connections between blossoms and stars. The Scandinavian story of goddess Freyja’s hens is paired with “Notturno” from Edvard Grieg’s Lyric Suite. It’s a dreamy and romantic work – also the only non-contemporary work – and it fits well with the image of the blonde goddess riding through the sky in her chariot.
The Aztec cluster Tianquiztli, which translates as ‘marketplace’, is brought to life with the wild, syncopated “Fertility Dance” from Edward Gregson’s Aztec Dances, a concerto for flute and ensemble. It’s an inspired choice (and quite saucy for a family affair?). The challenging solo is performed with swagger and charisma by principal flautist Hannah Darroch. The programme closes with a brief coda – Kerepeti Paraone’s vocal work “Tātai Aoraki”, sung with grace by Savanah Tukariri. The end is lovely but feels a little sudden; I wonder if there was scope to do more with the shape of the final transitions.
Together it’s an inviting programme that succeeds in connecting with the hundreds of young people in the audience (and those of us random solo adults too). There are also thoughtful touches throughout that indicate a careful attention to detail. Shifts in lighting colour illustrate changes in tone clearly, while also adding visual texture and enough movement to cater to shorter attention spans. Brief moments of participation ensure a connection between audience and performers, in an auditorium that otherwise pushes us apart. I greatly appreciate Kingi-Kaui’s audacious sparkly suit, Kamo’s bold pink and yellow monstera-print skirt, and Darroch’s stunning black frilled off-the-shoulder dress, the latter a welcome flourish in the sea of orchestral blacks.
Matariki Around the World a delightful show, overall, and one I’m extremely happy to have seen. It does run into the problem of attempting to balance the delicate sounds of traditional Māori wind instruments, and later the solo flute, against the much more dominant ensemble; even with amplification this is still a work in progress. But you can see the event’s impact in the hyped up kids I ended up following out of the Town Hall, who were each comparing which god or star they would want to be. Unsurprisingly, perhaps, the big noisy drama boys Tūmatauenga, the god of war, and Rūaumoko, god of fun volcano stuff, get a strong look in. I don’t doubt though that the gods of music and storytelling are that far behind. Mānawatia a Matariki.
Matariki Around the World ran for two performances on Wednesday 5 July 2023.
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