Vivid Live review: Max Richter's eight-hour epic seduces at Opera House sleep over

I first became aware of Max Richter's beautiful music when I reviewed the animated war feature Waltz with Bashir. His score for that was as haunting as the film itself. I became obsessed with his music and hunted everything down, discovering critically acclaimed works such as Blue Notebooks and Memory House, which included found sounds and voice work from Tilda Swinton. His work opened up the field sometimes referred to as contemporary classical or indie classical to me, leading me to Olafur Arnalds, Nils Frahm and many others.

When the Sydney Opera House announced that Richter would be performing his eight-hour opus Sleep for them, I was ecstatic. The two nights sold out very quickly and I was lucky to get a ticket. It was expensive but it was also quite literally an unforgettable experience.
I stayed awake most of the night, then arrived home on a grey winter's morning to write it up, email sources for the images and produce it for online, negotiating a stubborn CMS. I finally got to bed about 11am.
I had jetlag for almost a week.
It was first published for Fairfax Media.


MAX RICHTER - SLEEP
Sydney Opera House Northern Foyer, June 3
★★★★★
People are drinking champagne in the Concert Hall foyer of the Sydney Opera House. In flannelette pyjamas. There may be a onesie or two. Some are opting for the hot chocolate, chai latte, soup and jaffles the Opera House has laid on as part of their first sleep over, with entertainment provided by British-German composer Max Richter with soprano Grace Davidson and the American Contemporary Musical Ensemble.
From 11.30pm, they are performing his eight-hour epic Sleep in the northern foyer of the Opera House. It is to be broadcast live on the ABC, in what will be the longest continuous piece of music shown on television. Camp beds have been bought by the Opera House; along with sheets, blankets, and flight scuffs with Richter's name stamped on them. Awaiting each patron is a box containing a bottle of water, a mandarin and a cookie, for anyone who might get the late-night munchies.

Beds are laid out on the top level of the northern foyer, overlooking the harbour, next to the temporary stage where the musicians will perform. There is another level of beds underneath, and more in the Utzon Room, where people will watch via video.
Vivid is known for its dazzling light displays, but the room is subdued, with just enough illumination for the musicians to do their work.
People arrive and move to their allocated beds; some get in immediately; others go to the bathroom and change into more comfortable clothing. Others sit on the steps around the stage to watch. Everyone puts on their scuffs.
At 11.30 the musicians arrive. Richter, dressed in a polo neck sweater and dark jeans, takes the microphone. "Feel free to sleep through it, or not - there are no rules."
Those are his last words to the audience.
He begins playing a cycle of slow sombre chords on the piano in a pattern. A burst of torrential rain threatens to drown out the sound but only adds to the mood. It cascades off the Opera House's sail and spatters onto the glass roof over our heads. The strings join in; playing low, sustained notes. It's a short set for them this time; they leave 30 minutes later, leaving Richter and Davidson. The latter begins singing a hum which Richter loops; Davidson then sings over it, high, clear, wordless.
The musicians' sets have been staggered so they can nap throughout the night, at times that are in keeping with their time zone. It's midnight Australian time, and not everyone is sleeping in the audience, but everyone is utterly silent. Partly because the music is quiet and minimal; and the slightest sound can be heard, partly, because everyone wants to listen.
At times the experience - and the music - borders on holy. Which is about right, because sleep is certainly sacrosanct to me, and despite the sublime harmonies on offer, at about 1.30am I pull the blanket up to my chin and drift off.
In my dreams, I hear Davidson's soprano echoing through the chambers of my mind, so that when I wake at 3.30 to another violent burst of rain, I am not sure I have slept at all. The guy in the adjacent bed conked out at about midnight. He has hardly stirred since. One person remains sitting up; everyone else is sleeping, or at least lying down.
At 4am, the strings change shifts; Richter, who is mostly conducting by a nod of his head, massages his arms. I doze off again. Somewhere, someone begins to snore.
At 6am, the sky is lightening, although grey. Sleepers are awakening. An hour later, the musicians launch into the final track, Dream 0 (till break of the day). I feel like i have never known a time when this music, these beautiful patterns and melodies, weren't playing.
Davidson reappears in her sparkly black lace frock and walks to the windows to look out at the harbour, before taking up her position on the stage.

At 7.20, as the music wells up, it becomes apparent that what we have actually witnessed up to this point is a 7 hour and 40 minute prelude to a stunning crescendo. The volume rises; the gentle pulsing of the bass notes turns to thunder; the strings take it up an octave; Davidson's simple notes seem like waves.
It's spectacular. And then, 10 minutes later, it's over.
The musicians lay down their instruments; the awakened sleepers go wild. The players leave the stage, then return to take a bow as the applause continues. Some wag shouts, "Encore!" Richter shoots him a droll look, before they leave the stage for the last time - until they do it again, for their second Vivid show on Saturday night.
It has been an amazing experience.
I pack up my overnight bag and head into the rain.
I want to sleep.


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