Mozart and Copland: A Symphony of Timeless Masterpieces

Picture this: Stephen De Pledge, standing triumphant, cradling a portrait of the illustrious composer Lyell Cresswell, after delivering a stunning rendition of Cresswell's Piano Concerto No. 3 with the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra. You may not have seen it, but in our minds, the moment is framed like a scene from a well-edited rom-com, bursting with heartfelt emotion and just the right amount of drama. It’s a modern fairy tale, really, unfolding at the Auckland Town Hall.

Now, let’s get to the heart of the matter—the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra’s gorgeously crafted poster for its Jupiter concert. Two heavyweights of the classical world, Mozart and Copland, are featured in striking contrast, under the watchful eye of principal conductor Gemma New, whose baton is raised high like a magic wand ready to conjure melodic wonders.

The evening kicked off with Copland’s Appalachian Spring, a piece that felt as fresh as a crisp autumn morning—colors bursting forth like the most enthusiastic spring flowers. The soundscape unfolded sweetly, capturing much of the “blithe and beatific” essence that the illustrious critic Virgil Thomson once noted. New effortlessly brought forth the spirited vigor of folksong that kept us all smiling and swaying in our seats.

Afterward, we were transported straight to Mozart’s realm with the Jupiter Symphony, earning every bit of its grand nickname. The opening Allegro vivace had a ceremonial flair that was generously sprinkled with impish charm. The lyrical flow of the Andante cantabile felt so divine you almost expected to spot Zeus himself in the wings, nodding approvingly at the thunderous climax that hinted at a playful Minuet. The evening’s finale, that celebrated contrapuntal masterpiece, wrapped us up in warm musical embrace, leaving a glow that lingered like the final notes of a love song.

Ah, but what of the late Lyell Cresswell? While he may not have graced the poster, his Piano Concerto No. 3 more than earned its place in the celestial lineup. Written for De Pledge, it was as if the stars had aligned once again. De Pledge brought the same authoritative flair to this work as he did with Cresswell's first concerto years before—think of it as a reunion between dear old friends.

On stage, the Auckland pianist promised an explosion of colors and touches of humor from an orchestra that might flirt with mischief. Cresswell—the ultimate music provocateur—relished in contrasts, delivering passages of single notes that rushed headlong into a sonic tsunami. One moment the piano erupted with fiery trills, and the next it was entrancingly serene, like a single glockenspiel note holding its breath in awe.

De Pledge guided us through intricate musical mazes with astonishing prowess. Imagine a partner dance: one moment a jazzy walking bass, the next a tranquil crystalline chorale—all while carrying the delightful weight of dogged crotchets that teased us with their understated humor.

From her perch on the podium, New exuded a kind of effortless grace, making complex rhythms flow as naturally as a conversation over coffee. She highlighted the exquisite logic and structure of Cresswell’s hushed final pages, leading us to a gentle, yet profoundly moving conclusion.

And there it was—De Pledge lifting Cresswell’s portrait aloft like a trophy, celebrating a legacy that deserved every bit of applause in the room. As if on cue, he graced us with an encore of Bach’s well-known C major Prelude, pouring out every ounce of rich Steinway sonority, leaving us in rapturous silence.

In a world where the New York Times notes you’re “everywhere at the moment” — is that truly such a bad thing? Perhaps it’s just a sign that music, like love, is meant to be shared wide and far.