Kronos Quartet & Maatakitj (Clint Bracknell) blitz Concert Hall with Bindari (Thunderstorm) at Perth Festival

It’s been raining world premieres at Perth Festival this week so no surprise Noongar artist Maatakitj (Clint Bracknell) unleashed Bindari (Thunderstorm) at the Concert Hall with the Kronos Quartet on Saturday.

A clattering of clapsticks and a rush of strings triggered the chant “Bindari”; rhythm, harmony and Maatakitj’s powerful, generous voice painting a folkloric soundscape with overtones of pop.

Maatakitj collected his sources from WA’s South, where nature knows how to cook up a storm, and the energy in the song was palpable.

A second take, Midjal (Rain), was more balladic, with offbeat clapsticks and col legno beating of bows setting a rollicking rhythm with dancer Rubeun Yorkshire stepping stealthily down the aisle, bringing the ancient arts of corroboree to the heart of the Concert Hall.

Finally, a lilting measure in voice and percussion for Yongkar (Kangaroo) introduced a troupe of dancers from Kiara College, with steps and gestures to mimick a ’roo seeking shelter.

Though brief, Maatakijt’s interlude in a wealth of instrumental music met an appetite in a big crowd for hometown heroics, and the Indigenous artists earned a great reception.

It was the second interlude, after Kronos hosted quartets from University of WA, WA Academy of Performing Arts and WA Youth Orchestra to join them in Philip Glass’s Quartet Satz, a homage to Schubert very much in Glass’s idiom.

An undulating figure from high strings drew in deep bass from cello and a slowly processing melodic sequence, with rivulets of sounds spilling across the stage and auditorium.

There was a calming translucent quality to the collective, surprising given so many voices assembled of disparate age and experience.

String quartets thrive on their internal connection through eye contact and gesture, hence the trust of the ensemble following the lead of the principals — violinists David Harrington and John Sherba, violist Hank Dutt and cellist Paul Wiancko — was impressive.

And like the Indigenous artists, the students garnered a warm welcome in recognition of the special experience Kronos set up.

The Glass was one of several pieces from Kronos’ Fifty for the Future project; works commissioned for students to practise and learn from, all available online and free.

Kronos came on to a rock star reception, launching with West African composer Angelique Kidjo’s YanYanKliYan Senamido; a lively opening in viola joined in Beninese polyrhythms by violins over constant bass, with firm tone and total control of dynamics and tempi.

Successive lines passed between players in round form with cello rapping out percussion on the body of the instrument.

Peni Candra Rini’s Maduswara drew on Javanese culture, with darker tones established in viola and cello, throwing to violins over an eerie chant on speakers.

A sense of mystery emerged in an irresolute melody over pizzicato viola and cello, with lush tones richly sonorous; almost a lament, morphing to a lazy dance measure.

Kronos’s balanced sound wrought through long association was tempered by improvised percussion and glissando in violin balanced by a mellow cello solo; with on-stage shouts and gamelan-like gongs supplemented by offstage thunder and other atmospherics.

Aleksandra Vrebalov’s My Desert, My Rose channelled desert winds and the tyranny of distance in whirling strings with a hint of Middle East tonality, resolving to its own distinct timbre; a busy frenzy of dense chords and rhythmic bowing driving to a dramatic final flourish.

Jlin’s Little Black Book found a hint of Hitchcock in upbeat discords and rapid bowing over a booming cello doubling on kick drum, with col legno beats and an ominous sense of fate; stridently compelling towards an abrupt dismount.

An excerpt from John Oswald’s Spectre rounded out the first half.

A long tune up of strings was echoed in a recording of 800 instruments, with blue notes and a deeply sombre drone. Lights flashed as the quartet mimed strobe effects before a climactic frenzy of sound and gesture closed in a massive wall of sound.

After the interval, George Crumb’s Black Angels summoned the dysphoria of the Vietnam era in America; the spirit of the beehive informing the opening Threnody 1: Night of the Electric Insects.

Looped sound built the palette, with portamento and glissando filling out a dizzying programmatic attack; vocal percussion, gong, and cello harmonics creating an otherworldly experience.

The artists suspended their instruments above the stage to handle percussion, returning to strings for gentle chorales in early modern style, almost prayerful, before breaking out again in strident harmonics, shouted lyrics and gongs.

There was humour in the mix, too, as cello held centre stage and the other three moved back to reveal . . . tuned wine glasses, bowed for a liquid, limpid impact.

Action ebbed and flowed before the trio returned to their cups; fading infinitesimally at the last.

A first encore of Tanya Tagaq’s Colonizer, remixed for Kronos, presented another wall of sound to showcase Maatakijt’s timeless voice; and a second of Summertime (a la Janis Joplin) had cello channelling double bass with Baroque-like counter melody in violin and viola as Harrington rasped out a bluesy mash up of the main theme.