A syzygy, broadly defined, is a rare astronomical event when three stellar bodies come together into alignment. This weekend, there was to be found the delightful serendipity of the Gala Opening Concert of the Malaysian Philharmonic, a pops gig by the Braddell Heights Symphony Orchestra at Esplanade and the Singapore Symphony home at the Victoria Concert Hall under Yoei Levi, all performing at the same time. A pity we just missed The Planets, who were in town the previous weekend, to complete the metaphor.

With good memories of Rachmaninov and caviar from last year's do, it seemed almost criminal to miss the black-tie Gala Opening junket this year. Certainly, the all-Russian Romantic programme (yet again) was attractive, even if the Kabalevsky was a bit of a curate's egg. Nonetheless, conducting from memory, Resident Conductor Dato' Ooi Chean See dispatched the Overture to Calas Breugnon with generous servings of flair and panache, sprinkled liberally with dollops of fun and infectious humour. The orchestra, as expected, delivered Kabelevsky's delightful little schizophrenic opus with fizzing effervesence.

Tchaikovsky's First Piano Concerto, on the other hand, required altogether a different approach, not the least of which included the element of struggle between soloist and orchestra. Adopting a brisk pace from the opening theme, it was evident that the soloist, Vladimir Feltsman, was the one in the driver's seat. In the dry acoustic - the driest I've experienced the Dewan Filharmonik PETRONAS to date - Feltsman compensated with liberal amounts of pedal, resulting in a rather unbalanced, forward-projected Steinway Grand and the orchestral tutti being relegated somewhat.

There was no doubting the emotional intensity (and technical virtuosity) of Feltsman's reading, but at points he seemed to have decided to go his own way, leaving Ooi and the orchestra struggling to keep up. In the orchestral recapitulation of the majestic opening theme, for instance, sections of the orchestra had trouble keeping up with the soloist - although that is not to entirely fault the conductor or players. But Feltsman's idiosyncracies seemed to draw more attention to himself than the music - waving to the orchestra several times throughout the performance with his left hand while playing with his right, excessive gestures which did not go unnoticed by the audience.

To be honest, his relentless barnstorming grew weary after the first fifteen minutes or so. Inasmuch as flashy finger-crossing and the smashing out of fistfuls of chords are fun to watch, it did become tiresome listening, lacking a clear overall musical direction: one might have been led to think, from his mannerism, that the music had been printed in green and purple ink and phrased within inverted commas.

That is also not to say that Ooi didn't have her moments of insight. In the Andantino she proved a sympathetic accompanist to Feltsman's tortuous passagework, and it was only in the final movement, in the Ukranian melody, that both soloist and orchestra finally played for each other rather than against. But in this artifically dry acoustic, detail in the interplay of woodwinds was lost and highlights smudged: at its worst it made the orchestra sound like a digital landscape out of a Star Wars movie, and the piano like an actor in front of a bluescreen. Still, there was no denying Feltsman's aristocratic technique and superb control as he put Tchaikovsky away to a grandstand finish. Despite ten minutes of applause and numerous curtain calls, he declined to oblige with an encore.

Ooi returned in the second half, sans score again, to embark on yet another musical journey, this one of Mussorgsky's musical etchings of Victor Hartmann's Pictures at an Exhibition. The opening Promenade theme had a naturally imposing character, but led ubto a more tepid Gnome which lacked requisite bite and menace. Ooi's early tempi tended to be more relaxed than most, an reading (I suppose) intended more to achieve mood and atmosphere than sheer orchestral brilliance. The charm of Tuileries, for one, suffered for lack of thrust.

On the other hand, in The Old Castle, Ooi's evocation worked, with a velvety saxophonist (whose name was not separately credited in the programme book) vividly portraying a medieval troubador in Ravel's rustically exotic tone-colouring. Ooi also stuck to Mussorgsky's original markings for Bydlo, the rumbling juggernaut of an ox-cart, making its appearance fortissimo upfront and working its way louder from there. And the percussion section displayed as impressive a Rossini crescendo in Bydlo as any I've seen in a long time.

The little unhatched chicks in the Ballet of the Chicken Shells were not very boisterous, but the character piece Samuel Goldenberg and Schmuyle was vividly rendered by the low strings and the trumpet section's portrayal respectively of the eponymous characters. Limogues brought to one's mind the marketplace from the second episode ("The Tale of the Kalendar Prince") of Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade, with its attendant fuss and bustle.

Down in the Catacombs, the sonorous brass was less funereal than stentorian, and also in the Cum moris in mortus lingua with its menacing strings. Baba Yaga was given with exhilarating animation and impulse, with absolute mayhem in the brasses that clinically erupting to Ooi's taut rhythm and control. I'll say this: the horn section with their siren-like calls stole the show. On balance, the latter half of Pictures seemed more successful than the earlier.

The Great Gate of Kiev also had a grand, rotund sound to it, with Ooi's meditative languor in the quiet middle section building up to a powerful response from the orchestra. Steadily, steadily building up the tension and excitement through Mussorgsky's overextended finale, like Yeats's rough beast slouching towards Bethlehem to be born, Ooi brought the music through its a sustained series of peaks and crescendos, and culminating in an uninhibited, gooseflesh-raising conclusion best measured in megatons.

But not all was done for the night yet. For the encore (and yes, there was one), Ooi and the Philharmonic revisited Kuantan-born Vivian Chua's (b.1974) Medley of Malay Folk Songs (for want of a title), premièred earlier this year at the BBC KL Proms. (Ms Chua, seated about three rows in front of us, was later overheard disavowing any knowledge of this pleasant surprise.) From the opening pop beats of kompang and drum set, the audience were not unamused by the zealous pastiche renditions of Chan Mali Chan, Jong Jong Inai and Rasa Sayang - at one point, the good conductor having to rein in a brace of runaway horns.

Ask anyone, and such is the esteem with which many hold the Malaysian Philharmonic that they would regard it never fails to deliver. (Well, hardly ever.) But this was admittedly not one of its better nights, all the more it being the Gala Opening concert and playing with such variable temperment and quality. We can now only wait for normal service to resume...

BENJAMIN CHEE enjoyed the vol-au-vents this year.

*Picture of conductor Ooi Chean See from the MPO website - Copyright © 1999-2000 Malaysian Philharmonic Orchestra

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5.9.2002 © Benjamin Chee

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