Expectations often prove futile when new works hit the stage. However, one thing that could be expected from Luminescence Chamber Singers’ Luminescence and the Machine was an enthralling, thought-provoking showcase of what happens when the human voice and technology intersect.

Armed with MIDI keyboards, deft sound design (by Tilman Robinson) and an expansive range of vocal colour, Luminescence delivered a performance of striking assurance and variety. Though this ambitious premiere of 12 new works at the Street Theatre in Canberra stretched 20 minutes beyond its advertised hour, few in the audience seemed inclined to protest.

Luminescence and the Machine. Photo © Peter Hislop

A mechanical, crescendoing hum and blinding lights opened the concert as the six vocalists sauntered onto a stage set with industrial scaffolds, silver induction pipes and glaring lights. Through their remarkable voices, AJ America (mezzo-soprano and creative director), Josephine Brereton (soprano), Rachel Mink (soprano), Dan Walker (tenor and composer), Lucein Fischer (baritone) and Alasdair Stretch (bass-baritone) showed what it means to be human in a world of machines.

Tilman Robinson’s Enshittification opened the program. Red strobe lights, robotic vocal trills and a club-like, thumping bass, interjected with Broadway-style vocal lines, showcased the high level of agility of which the ensemble, sound design and lighting team were capable.

Véronique Benet’s stylish lighting changes marked the end of one piece and the beginning of another. Lit in hyacinth blue, pinks and greens, William Brittelle’s Chronicles of mailer_daemon, ‘Hyacinth Pillars’, took unexpected twists and turns. America’s riveting solo of vocal manipulation saw the mezzo-soprano shift into tenor range, drawing eyes and ears to the stage.

Thematic programming shifted to the spiritual. Olivia Bettina Davies’ I Am That I Am evoked Gregorian chant, using technology and harmony to simulate church acoustics to stunning effect.

Ensemble member Dan Walker’s Collider: The Search for a God in Particular followed, engrossing vocalists and audience alike. Breath as a defining human trait was expertly explored in Damien Ricketson’s Kahthepah. Variations of inhalation and exhalation enveloped the audience; the cohesion of the ensemble and precise sound design made for a captivating, 360-degree audio experience.

Luminescence and the Machine. Photo © Peter Hislop

Jessica O’Donoghue’s The Republic of Motherhood spotlit the group’s exceptional vocal dexterity in the lower voices, continuing in Sam Weiss’ Creation. Fischer’s exceptionally impressive overtones – a technique in which a low tone is produced simultaneously with a harmonic overtone – added texture rarely heard in concert halls. This technical command extended to Stretch’s solo at the bottom of his range, amplified by electronics.

The vocal diversity in Marcus Whale’s For Derek Jarman, additional movements from Brittelle’s Chronicles of mailer_daemon, and Machine Translation by Jess Green sustained momentum through to the concert’s end.

Luminescence’s collaboration with technology transcended acoustic limits without compromising nuanced technique and phrasing. A shining example came in Brereton’s exceptionally high yet softly sustained solo in Kahthepah, which left audiences holding their breath. With Mink joining in, the pair made their duet appear effortless, proving just as effective as the lengthy high belts that tend to captivate.

The Luminescence Chamber ensemble showed exceptional musicianship in navigating the demands of these new works, doing each justice. Executing a vast range of musical styles while collaborating with technology, Luminescence and the Machine emerged as an ever-relevant, gripping performance.