Sunwrae Ensemble @ ThornburyTheatre, Melbourne (4/06/09)

Tue 9th Jun, 2009 in Gig Reviews

When I arrived at Thornbury Theatre on Thursday night I was expecting to find a car park somewhere near the front of the building. I was mistaken. Not only did I have to park a block away, but there was a queue of punters on either side of the entrance that ran down the street! I had seen Sunwrae perform years ago, but had no idea how much Rae Howell and her brilliant ensemble had grown. But by all logic, how can music this good not grow into something this big?

This was the last stop of an extensive Australian tour, that had taken the band on a 20-date tour around Victoria, NSW, Queensland, South Australia and finally back home to good old rainy Melbourne. The ensemble were firing on all cylinders with the miles they had clocked up, and if they were a little lethargic from the lengthy tour, it didn’t show. Rae Howell took to the grand piano and the string quartet (consisting of Rachael Kim on violin, Zac Johnston on violin, Phoebe Green on viola and Julian Swinnerton on cello) followed, launching into Autumn Never Fall providing a stirring opener and preparing the audience for the first half of a hypnotic journey, accompanied by gorgeous visuals by River River (with original footage by Ben Mastwyk ).

Mind You Do swirls and weaves around beautifully structured piano and evokes a waking dream within its deep emotive movements. The audience gives an overwhelming response as the rest of the ensemble grace the stage; Belinda Woods on alto flute, Emily Rosner on harp, Luke Richardson on double bass and Pip Atherstone-Reid on drums. Howell now moves to her vibraphone and strikes polyrhythmic notes as we hear percussive drum sticks and bass follow in tow and build into a steady frenzy, as 10 foot high projections of an old note book scroll in and out of focus on the enormous old theatre walls, across either side of the stage.

One gets the sense that we are being treated to something very personal here. The intensity increases and balances between jazz acoustic fusions that Phillip Glass may have secretly wished he’d composed. The lead flute sings effortlessly and floats just above the hemisphere of dreamy melodies of harp and vibes. Halfway in the time signature takes a shift and the string quartet join in an ethereal rise of what can only be described as ‘musical love’ as the ensemble bring out the sun and flood the theatre with light (in relation to sound). We are now introduced to a children’s picture book as the images dance across the walls and spark imaginations. The song rises and falls like crashing waves of audible euphoria until finally grinding down to a gentle coda, receiving overwhelming applause.

The Quartet leave the stage for the forth track titled Drawn Down, and we are left with the rest of the band, opening with harp and bass as Rae begins to play the vibraphone like a cello, with long bows across the keys. Don’t ask me how this works, but it sounds like one of the most haunting sounds you will ever hear. The complexities of Howell’s arrangements are staggeringly beautiful in this track; carefully constructed and once again, creating a dreamscape of imagery, and this would stand true even without the grand visuals. The projections now turn to a dark and stormy skyline, the calm before the storm; as if the imagery is predicting the next movements in these delicate yet intense compositions.

For Poly the band is stripped back to simply upright bass, drums and Rae on vibes, as Luke Richardson begins with the screeching of bowed bass and Rae plays call and response with her own unique sounds, bowing her harp from both sides this time. The wall is full of picture book zebras now, blurring into red and the band break into the storm we had all been waiting for; progressive and dynamic, reflecting moments of the band Do Make Say Think, with upright bass in attack mode holding the fort, with hints of jazz-funk making the whole experience slightly less avant-garde for a moment, and more, dare I say, post-rock? The vibes dance between holes in the drum pattern as Rae breaks into a smile at drummer Pip Atherstone-Reid, as he rolls the thunder in.

The chemistry is electric, and now I understand why the Thornbury Theatre is a full house. The same song evolves into a jazz swing and reminds me of Tortoise during their It’s All Around You era. We are taken up to a crescendo and then back down the rollercoaster into an epic finale of the first half of the set. The reception is immense and Rae approaches the mic – œBy the way everyone’s clapping it sounds like you’re thirsty’. But it’s not the liquor fueling the applause; it’s the music.

After a short break to refill our glasses, Rae Howell takes to the piano once again with Belinda Woods on alto flute, in what seems like a sonnet called Soluble Sun, accompanied by the imagery of a full moon behind passing clouds. I look over to the left of me to see a man with his head in his hands, weeping. I’m not surprised, the song is somber and exquisite, and I scowl at the woman sitting in front of me pointing the man out and laughing. I want to say, – œHave you no soul?’ Because that’s what this music is all about, soul, and the separation of nature.

My theory is proven correct as Rae introduces us to the next piece – œThis next song, The Machine is a story I wrote years ago and a designer from Melbourne illustrated it for us. It’s about getting caught up in the machine, the city, and yearning to escape to the countryside’. The string quartet return to the stage once again and we are treated to a stunning short animated film (illustrated by Tom Fraser) to accompany the piece. The violins strike in perfect time to the pictures of a tap dripping water onto a clock; notably indicating wasted time.

The animation scenes swap to the shuffling of feet and shadowy men holding brief cases in the hustle and bustle of a big city. The sketchy yet beautiful artwork has a charcoal quality to it and addresses the fast paced lifestyles so many of us live. Cars zoom in and out of bumper to bumper traffic and the music picks up its sway as the city grows more and more congested and a faceless character flees from the smoke, and finds solitude amongst the trees and birds while shades of color are introduced into the moving images. The orchestration flourishes as organically as the flowers depicted on screen.

Rainlessness begins in a wash of melancholic minor piano scales accompanied by cello and then joined by the rest of the quartet. Projections dissolve from rain clouds to an angry sea, and I look carefully to try and find Howell out there somewhere, being thrown around in a small rowboat. The images are as striking as the music, painting rich dark colors across an intimate and emotive canvas, shifting pace as quickly as unpredictable weather conditions.

Howell takes the listener on a geological journey North West with Desert Walk as a walking bass line creeps into pace and piano sparsely atones the dark setting. Dandelions and pulsating images of shrubs and a spider building its web flood the walls with time-lapse photography. The music wavers and swells mysteriously, emulating gypsy and middle eastern flavors amongst the menacing piano chords and spectacular flute, as the drums and bass carry the disorientation into a new realm of improvisation, and the quartet look like they are trying to break their strings as they pluck notes furiously. The tempo shifts into a jazz double time and branches into new territory, as the crowd erupts in applause, making this one of the highlights of the evening.

As the evening draws to a close, Howell pays homage to her ensemble and introduces the final composition of the evening titled Chinook Winds – œSo now we’ve been to the desert, we’re going to go to the snow’ and after some more nods to the right people, we are swept away once again with the full ensemble, rolling and tumbling, conjuring wonder and enlightenment between sound and image, and it could almost be exhausting if the Sunwrae Ensemble were monotonous, but they are anything but.

They are the genuine article; a dynamic and haunting orchestra celebrating in the miracle of life itself, and more inventive than avant-garde. Rae Howell is not only an extremely talented composer and musician, but for this particular lover of instrumental music she is a composition and musical genius. And she has earned such a title, having studied under some of the greatest names in contemporary jazz in the world whilst proving her performance stamina and diversity as a unique visionary and artist. Those who have not yet witnessed the Sunwrae Ensemble should take note to see them when they play again.