On the podium, his movements appear a bit jerky, almost as if he were a marionette pulled upon by strings. My concern that this odd-appearing technique would not serve him well lasted all of 45 seconds. Though I had some trouble “reading” his directions (I was behind him, after all) his orchestra had no such issue at all. The opposite, in fact – they read him with such unanimity that any question of unusual technique was trivial.

The Orchestra’s informative descriptive note in the program reads in part:

The European Union Youth Orchestra (EUYO) unites Europe’s most talented young musicians under some of the world’s most famous conductors, in an orchestra that transcends cultural boundaries and performs all over the world to the highest international standards.

The orchestra is composed of up to 140 musicians who are drawn from all 27 member states of the European Union, from Finland in the north to Malta in the south, from Cyprus in the east to Portugal in the west…over 90% of alumni go on to successful careers in music.

The EUYO was founded in 1976 by Bostonian Joy Bryer and her husband Lionel, with a view to creating an ensemble that would represent the European ideal of a community working together to achieve peace and social and cultural understanding.

The concert began, appropriately, with a brisk reading of Aaron Copland’s 1938 An Outdoor Overture, a seldom-encountered and well-constructed gem that the composer wrote on request for the High School of Music and Art in New York City. Tuneful and jaunty, the Overture makes no concession to less-than-professional musicianship and requires strong individualistic playing throughout. After a slightly shaky solo for trumpet about a minute into the work, the EUYO found its footing, and under Ashkenazy’s encouraging direction brought the piece to its brilliant conclusion.

Next up was the Franz Liszt Piano Concerto No. 2 in A Major, played with power, panache and clear-headed virtuosity by Yefim Bronfman, who seems from my several past hearings of him to have never met a work for piano of which he cannot become the master. Whether spinning the dreamy arabesques of the concerto’s beginning or powerfully declaiming the stormy tempests that arise later in the work, Bronfman was always the enlightened and undaunted artist, the EUYO and Ashkenazy ever the well-matched partners. The program book contained the following apropos quote from Michael Steinberg: “An expert keyboard athlete of little musical insight can make a go of the First (Liszt) Concerto, but the Second Concerto is for poets only.” Bronfman’s ministrations, and those of his accompanists, were wonderfully bardic at all turns. The audience loved it, and so did the Orchestra – rhythmic applause and stomping on the stage brought Bronfman out for bows several times. He rewarded his on-stage and off admirers with a thoughtful, pearlescent and, yes, poetic reading of Frederic Chopin’s op. 10 F-Major Etude.

After a longish intermission, the reason for the extension of the Symphony Hall stage became clear, for on the platform was a huge ensemble, warming up for one of Richard Strauss’s most daunting works for orchestra: An Alpine Symphony, loftily dedicated to the ideal, in the composer’s words of “…moral purification through one’s own strength, liberation through work, worship of eternal, magnificent nature.”

An Alpine Symphony is rarely heard because it requires an unusually large complement of players, four of each woodwind instruments, 18 brass, two harps, organ, celesta and enlarged string sections. Every one of those players is faced with an extremely demanding instrumental part – no “coasting” is possible at any moment. Not really a symphony at all, the work occupies a vast tonal landscape divided into 22 connected sections, all illustrative of an ascent and subsequent descent of a towering mountain peak and a metaphoric portrait of life. Replete with colorful musical depictions of The Night, a Sunrise, a cascading Waterfall, a cowbell-bedecked Mountain Meadow, the Summit, ominous rising Mists and a cataclysmic Thunderstorm, some auditors find the music a bit vulgar and self-indulgent. I’m not quite so dismissive, however – the sheer, almost insolent virtuosity of brilliant orchestration just sweeps aside for me any misgivings I may ultimately have for the sprawl this piece, and I freely admit to enjoying the hedonistic immersion in the rich sounds flowing from the stage. And thankfully, at their several powerful heights, the many impressive fortissimi still possessed a welcome transparency.

The EUYO was fully up to the many challenges of bringing this vast work off, but as impressive as these young players were, they must share their success with the inspired leadership that Ashkenazy brought to them. He was the ideal guide; he knew every twist and turn of the precipitous musical trail up and down the mountain, and clearly showed the way to all of his charges for the entire perilous journey. Hats off, Mr. Ashkenazy. You lead a band as well as you play the piano, and that’s no faint praise.

What besides a loud and heartfelt ovation for this youthful ensemble could possibly follow the Strauss? Why, an encore: Bernstein, in the form of a sparkling and festive arrangement (by whom?) of the lively “America” from West Side Story, played, as one would have expected by now, to the absolute hilt, creating a very nice “bookending” of a concert with American works.

With youths playing so well in the several NEC orchestras, the el sistema orchestras of Venezuela, the Schleswig-Holstein Festival Orchestra, The annual TMC Orchestra, the Boston University-sponsored Orchestras, and this marvelous EUYO, hope for the future of orchestral classical music performance is encouragingly springing eternal.

John W. Ehrlich is music director of Spectrum Singers, which he founded 32 years ago. He has been a singer and conductor in the Boston area for more than 32 years.

The answer is: brilliantly. Noting with some concern the Academy’s tour roster in the program book of eight first violins, six seconds, four violas, four ‘cellos and a mere two double-basses, I had wondered whether I would miss the heft, the weight of musical sound that I had heard before in these works when played by full symphony orchestras. Not for a second.

Coriolan begins with a growl and a bark — the growl a fortissimo-marked unison C played by all the strings, the bark (a shout, actually) — a sharply punctuated and staccato-marked fortissimo F/C/A-flat chord played by all of the instruments together. And this pattern is repeated twice more, with ever-more intense chords following each introductory unison C. Not once did I miss the full-orchestra sound I had feared I might, so deep, dark, pointed, and strongly-played was the intensity of these instrumentalists.

The performance went from strength to strength, beginning with an absolutely ideal tempo maintained with rock-like solidity, only on occasion yielding a bit to accommodate a touch of telling rubato. The overall severity of this uncompromising overture was always in focus, even when the mood rarely relented to something softer than the agitation so pervasive in this music. Beautifully sculpted playing from the woodwinds contrasted with incisive interruptions from trumpets and tympani, the latter played with extrovert panache throughout the program by Adrian Bending. At the Overture’s finish — a difficult-to-keep-together set of three short unison C pizzicatti from the strings, here magically shaded pp-ppp-pppp— there was a collective exhalation of breath from the attentive audience before it erupted in very strong applause.

All of this is even more remarkable, because at the helm of the ensemble, playing and leading from a pianist’s adjustable upholstered single bench was Joshua Bell, the newly-appointed music director of ASMF.

Bell led with assurance leavened with helpful collaborative cues, and the players of ASMF were of one mind with him all the way. They seemed genuinely pleased to be making music with him. And this was the case throughout this remarkable concert, one of the finest I’ve heard in Symphony Hall.

The mighty Coriolan  was followed by a sweet-toned, perfectly paced and elegantly played performance of the Violin Concerto in D Major, op. 61. Its opus number is but one digit removed from the aforedescribed Overture, yet the Concerto is a world-apart composition. It is so different that one is tempted to suggest it might have been written by another composer, but this is an example of why Beethoven is so highly esteemed among all music lovers. He literally and effortlessly runs the gamut of emotion and depth of feeling.

It is hard to imagine a more beautifully played and integrated interpretation of this superb concerto than this heard from Bell and his colleagues. About midway through the first movement, I stopped writing notes to allow a total absorption of what was happening on stage. This performance became that rarest of moments —uplifting, noble, and totally committed music-making, utterly flawless execution, and of such overwhelming beauty of tone that one’s imagination is stunned. This was simply the finest performance of the Beethoven Violin Concerto I have ever heard. Perfect tempi, total unanimity of purpose from all the players, and the most gorgeous playing from Joshua Bell I’ve heard from him, abetted by his dulcet-toned 1713 Huberman Stradivarius, which sang every phrase with otherworldly purity. Again one was impressed by the ensemble playing as Bell both led and soloed. The middle of the second movement has the solo line accompanied by pizzicati that even in “traditional” orchestra/conductor/soloist performances can be treacherous to make precise. No problem here – not only was Bell able to play his solo flawlessly, the concurrent pizzicati were perfectly essayed, even with a lacing of elegant rubato.

Aside from his elegant playing, attention must be paid to Bell’s interpretive powers. It would be one thing, surely, to play with such beauty as he does. It is an entirely another thing to not only lead with conviction while playing but also to bring a powerful, appropriate, and thoroughly convincing interpretation to the music. This Bell did in all three of these diverse Beethoven performances. In general I have been a bit suspicious when talented instrumentalists decide that they “should” also be a conductor. After hearing Bell’s thoughtful and authoritative approach to this entire program, I have to admit that he definitely has the depth of talent to lead as well as play. Not once did I have any doubts that what I heard coming from the stage was anything but top-drawer.

The concert concluded with a fleet, taut, rhythmically-charged and inspired performance of the Beethoven Seventh Symphony. I had worried yet again before the powerful chord which begins this remarkable symphony — would I miss the full orchestra approach, would a mere two double-basses provide enough chromatic growl to the ends of the first and fourth movements? My worries were unwarranted. Here was a performance that sang, danced, soared, and spun. Here were perfect tempi yet again, powerful sforzandi and total commitment from each player. (Have I mentioned how these players constantly stay in touch with one another? They watch each other all the time, take cues, smile frequently, and listen listen listen!)

While these admirable traits paid big dividends throughout, the Symphony’s second movement was especially moving. Bell set the correct alle-breve tempo and the ensuing dialogues between strings, winds, and tympani sounded wonderfully fresh and new. The wisely integrated tempi in the third movement allowed its famous horn and flute-inflected trio section to move forward rapidly as it should.

Bell and his colleagues blessedly elected to play virtually all the repeats Beethoven indicated he wanted heard in each movement—a welcome change from the routine shortening this work often suffers.

In the Symphony’s fourth movement listeners were literally swept into the mad, swirling, possessed Allegro con Brio dance that is right there on the score’s pages but so rarely encountered in performance with such all-encompassing energy. All of Beethoven’s many dynamic marks were scrupulously observed, and at the one moment in the entire symphony where he asks for fff, the impact and shock of that indication was positively electric. Though the heroic timpanist seemed a bit over the top with his powerful thwacks at the very end, one forgave him for being so totally “in the moment.” This was an utterly thrilling performance which brought the audience immediately to its feet in a (for-once) deserved and cheering standing ovation.

So, much was revealed in Symphony Hall Sunday afternoon: a new conductor of significant talent has arisen, the ASMF remains at the top of their game, Joshua Bell continues to grow as a significant and important violin virtuoso, and Beethoven reigns supreme in the composers’ pantheon, fully deserving of his name’s pride-of-place gold-bedecked emblazonment above the Symphony Hall stage. One left the hall exhilarated, moved, and amazed. THIS is what a live concert should be all about.

John W. Ehrlich is music director of Spectrum Singers, which he founded 32 years ago. He has been a singer and conductor in the Boston area for more than 32 years.

All of BB’s accustomed felicities were in evidence —brisk tempi, fabulous string articulations, mellow bassoons and plangent oboes, piquant tympani, telling timbres across the stage  —all a joy to hear. Pearlman opened the concert with Mozart’s sunny Symphony No. 29 in A Major, K.201, which he characterized in his friendly opening remarks from the stage as “…the composer’s crowning and last of his early symphonies, written when Mozart was an ‘experienced’ 18-year-old.” Experienced, in that Mozart by that relatively tender age had already written 28 symphonies. And #29 is indeed a lovely work.

Its opening measures set forth as gentle a Mozartean phrase as one could imagine, but this soon gives way to a pattern of energetic and rapidly repeated short notes. Though these don’t much disturb the generally elegant and cantabile feel of the first movement, they do add a zesty sense of pleasant agitato when they return with a certain amount of adolescent energy in the fourth movement. The Symphony’s slow movement sounded especially poignant with the muted early-instrument strings singing and whispering their melodic assignments. One was reminded yet again of the otherworldly gifts given to this remarkable 18-year old genius. The bouncy Menuetto offered contrast and ably presaged the music of the Rondeau finale, it of a zesty “la chasse” feel, extrovert and energized, redolent of galloping and crisply articulated strings and pealing natural horns accurately and spicily played by Richard Menaul and Robert Marlatt. Throughout out the symphony, one felt that an ideal set of tempi had been agreed upon.

The K. 365 Concerto in E-flat Major for Two Pianos and Orchestra isn’t heard very often. More’s the pity, for it is surely one of Mozart’s most delectable keyboard concertos, with a gentle and haunting second movement that rivals this composer’s finest lyric creations. On hand to illuminate this remarkable music were four treasures—two fabulous fortepianos and two redoubtable Mozarteans. The fortepianos were contemporary instruments but carefully modeled on authentic forebears. Interestingly, American craftsmen built both. The one based upon a ca. 1805 original by Anton Walter und Sohn, a firm favored by Mozart, was crafted by Paul McNulty while in residence in Prague. The other, based upon a 1795 Johann Schantz original, a builder favored by Haydn, was made by Thomas and Barbara Wolf whose shop is located in The Plains, Virginia.

To hear not one but two fortepianos simultaneously in concert is a rare treat indeed, made even rarer by those who were playing them with such artistic finesse: Robert Levin and his wife Ya-Fei Chuang. Simply put, one would be hard-pressed to imagine a more thoughtful, precise, elegant and collaborative exposition of this nonpareil concerto. The Levin-Chuangs played together as if of one mind, constantly interlacing their filigreed figurations and tapering their phrases, artfully blending into one another’s sounds and senses. If the music were soft, it was gently caressed. If it were rapid and sonorous, it was brilliantly declaimed. With them all the way were Pearlman and his orchestra. In the second movement Mozart creates a moment of accompanying magic, when first one oboe suspends a solo note high and tellingly in the air, only to be joined complementarily a bit later by the second oboe, and the two hang in the air with one another for a delicious several seconds as the two fortepianos spin out their glowing harmonies below. Here was truly the moment of the evening to be cherished. Kudos are due oboists Marc Schachman and Lani Spahr for those moments of double-reeded wizardry.

High spirits returned in the third movement, with Levin-Chuang offering fleet and clean passagework always at the service of the score. Mozart’s original cadenzas were heard, as they had in the Concerto’s first movement. Once again, Pearlman and his players were their ideal accompanists. At the work’s cheerful close, well-deserved bravos rose up from the audience. The happiness of this occasion was visible on stage as well— smiles during the Concerto were seen across many players’ faces, and there was obvious affection and mutual respect between the Levins and Pearlman as they took their bows.

After intermission, Pearlman offered up interesting arrangements of Bach fugues drawn from the second book of the Well-Tempered Clavier made by Mozart for a gathering at Baron Gottfried von Swieten’s residence, where the Baron’s fascination for “early music” by was indulged during soirees by the playing of Bach and Handel  in arrangements such as these.

BB’s concert closed with a spirited performance of Mozart’s “Linz” Symphony No. 36 in C Major, K. 425. In 1783 the composer and his wife Constanze were en route to Vienna and had stopped in Linz at the invitation of Count Thun. The Count then unexpectedly offered Mozart a public concert, and the composer worried that he had not brought with him a symphony appropriate for such an occasion. So, he wrote one, had it copied, and perhaps had one rehearsal of it, all in the span of six days, when the work was heard in concert for the first time—yet another Mozartean miracle, for the “Linz” is wholly extraordinary. It opens with a slow introduction, the first of the composer’s symphonies to do so. It also is scored for winds, trumpets, and tympani, the latter which are heard, unusually, in the second movement. Pearlman’s program notes point out that this was not so surprising in later symphonies, particularly those of Beethoven and a few late ones by Haydn. But for Mozart it was unprecedented. The players of BB rose handily to the occasion, only once or twice betraying a bit of lost grace perhaps due to fatigue from all the music they had made earlier, and maybe Pearlman’s penchant for very quick tempi. No worries, though—this extraordinary symphony emerged as the brilliant work it is, fully realized by all on stage. Again, kudos are due the winds, in particular bassoonists Andrew Schwartz and Marilyn Boenau, who produced lovingly nuanced tone.

I’d be a bit remiss, though, if I didn’t bring further praise to all the strings, who played more notes Friday night than anyone else on stage, and did so with great aplomb. If they had been reimbursed by the note, Friday night would have seen a passel of potential millionaires leaving Jordan Hall.

A wonderful evening, and as Richard Buell wrote so memorably at the end of reviews for concerts he particularly enjoyed, received with thanks.

John W. Ehrlich is music director of Spectrum Singers, which he founded 32 years ago. He has been a singer and conductor in the Boston area for more than 32 years.

TFC with Sopranos Camilla Tilling and Carolyn Sampson led by Bramwell Tovey (StuRosner)

Right to the point: there are two performances remaining, one tonight, and one on Tuesday, January 31^st. You should go.

At Symphony Hall last night the Boston Symphony Orchestra under the direction of Bramwell Tovey with three excellent soloists and John Oliver’s redoubtable Tanglewood Festival Chorus presented but one work — the 10-movement Lobgesang, or “Song of Praise” Op. 52 by Felix Mendelssohn. A more enriching experience at Symphony Hall would be hard to imagine.

This concert was the second of six Friday evening events called “Underscore Fridays” by the orchestra, which begin at 7:00 PM and feature from-the-stage introductions from orchestra members, and end in time for a generous — and gratis — food and wine buffet for the entire audience and performers, so the two constituencies can meet and schmooze post-concert. This is part of the orchestra’s earnest outreach efforts to begin to break down the traditional barriers that normally exist between audience and performers and also help make BSO concerts more accessible to their audiences. The many enthusiastic participants last night indicated that this gesture was very well received.

The orchestra’s experience with Mendelssohn’s remarkable score is limited. The BSO first played it while “on the road” in 1890 with its then-Music Director Arthur Nikisch, who had brought his orchestra to Old City Hall in Pittsburgh for a single performance on a Monday evening. In recent history, Seiji Ozawa conducted this music in subscription concert presentations in April of 1988. That’s all until this week’s revelatory concerts.

Revelatory? Yes, indeed. In his charming pre-concert introduction from the stage, 21-seasons veteran violist Edward Gazouleas told the audience how the orchestra’s reacquintance with Lobgesang was akin to visiting one’s cellar and stumbling across a long-forgotten bottle of extraordinary wine. In looking at the bottle, one remembered the occasion of having received it, but the contents had remained untasted until it was now finally opened, savored, and immediately recognized as superb — a wonderful gift finally realized.

And as fine wine is best enjoyed with appropriate vessels — fine crystal stemware, for instance — so too is music best appreciated when the vessel presenting it is of equal caliber to the notes printed on the page. The Boston Symphony Orchestra is certainly that vessel, and its many felicities of brass, woodwind, and strings — so aptly showcased in last week’s “conductorless” ensemble offerings — were united under the inspired leadership of Bramwell Tovey, a musician of impeccable taste.

Tovey, whose experience is worldwide, was first seen at a BSO performance at Tanglewood last summer where he led a very highly regarded performance of George Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess in its composer’s intended grand opera version. When Riccardo Chailly unfortunately joined this season’s long list of cancelling conductors, Tovey was deputized to lead the concerts which Chailly had originally programmed. Frankly, it would be hard to imagine the absent Italian having had a greater success in presenting this remarkable music than Mr. Tovey’s, so strong and fluent was the latter’s leadership last night. He has fully internalized this wonderful score, and the forces on stage were “with him” for the span of the evening.

The 31-year-old Felix Mendelssohn wrote his Lobgesang in June, 1840 for a Lepzig festival that celebrated the 400^th anniversary of Gutenberg’s invention of moveable type and development of the printing press. Europeans felt then that this remarkable innovation, which, among many other possibilities allowed the words of the Lutheran Bible to be printed and then disseminated throughout the Christian world, was a symbol of German high-mindedness and worldly cultural enlightenment — erleuchten, “to cast light upon,” as the German text has it in a tenor aria. Such an invention at that time would have been equal in impact to the recent creation of the internet, suggested Maestro Tovey in his eloquent pre-concert talk.

Lobgesang’s wonderfully inventive score calls for a full classical orchestra, plus organ (handsomely played by James David Christie in these performances) and three vocal soloists. Well matched in timbre and musicianship were the two sopranos, Carolyn Sampson and Camilla Tilling. John Tessier, stepping in for yet another last-minute cancellation, was the lyric-voiced and sweet-toned tenor. While of these three, the Swedish soprano Tilling projected the most authentic-sounding declamation of the German language; together they formed an earnest and fully competent trio.

Mendelssohn’s music is constantly engaging, but in fact much more than that. It is inspired, moving, ceaselessly melodic and involving, and heart-touchingly beautiful. In addition to this, it inhabits a lofty spiritual and philosophical plane with its text, drawn from the scriptures yet also reflective of its metaphoric celebration of the cultural enlightenment mentioned above. Lobgesang is neither a true “symphony” nor an oratorio — on the title page of the urtext Mendelssohn called it Lobgesang. Eine Symphonie-Cantate nach Worten der heiligen Schrift. The inability of some listeners to “classify” this music is perhaps part of the reason for this score’s undeserved obscurity. Critics savaged it after its premiere, unfairly characterizing it as an unsuccessful attempt to imitate Beethoven’s ninth symphony. While Lobgesang surely does harbor several moments that may reflect homage to that earlier score, it is also surely no weak sister to the Beethoven. Lobgesang is fully capable of making its own salient points. There has been, in my opinion, too much bickering about this score over the years, even up to today, and not enough LISTENING. “Too much unending praise” is a major carp. Indeed, Maestro Tovey wittily brought this up before the music began. He characterized the score as “unrelievedly joyful,” and those coming to the concert looking for “unsupervised introspection” would not find it here. I say, more unrelievedly joyful music is just what this dreary world needs now and again, especially now.

The performance was superb from beginning to end. Maestro Tovey conducted as a man eager to proselytize for this score, mining its subtleties, reveling in its exquisite successions of melodic invention, underscoring the music’s drama and illuminating its reverence. His equal partner in this, along with the BSO, was the full-throated Tanglewood Festival Chorus, shaping and savoring its every phrase, powerful and focused when demanded, quiet and prayerful when appropriate. Among many choral highlights were the strong projection of the powerful fugal entrances in movements VII and X and the dead-on intonation in the a cappella passages of the seven-voiced chorale Nun Danket alle Gott in movement VIII. The final entrance of the TFC men near the music’s conclusion, singing the music’s recurring trombone motive heard at the work’s very beginning and now reprised at its end, nearly caused me to jump out of my chair in gratitude for their rich, sonorous sound and sheer commitment to their text.

The words that begin and end this remarkable piece are “Alles was Odem hat, lobet den Herrn – Let all those who hath breath praise the Lord!” To that is appended: “Hallelujah!”

Don’t miss these performances!

John W. Ehrlich is music director of Spectrum Singers, which he founded 32 years ago. He has been a singer and conductor in the Boston area for more than 32 years.

The difficulty, known by all present in the hall and keenly felt by every young player on stage, was not the music, but the missing presence of their mentor, the person who had rehearsed them, encouraged them and ultimately inspired them, their long-time leader Benjamin Zander, whom circumstances had forced to leave the Conservatory, as anyone who has read the news lately knows. You could read it on these young faces as they came on to the platform Friday night. Some looked tired, some sad, some dejected, some numb. Yet, there they were, on stage, ready to give what they could to a program of wonderful music. And, give they surely did.

The program that Zander had planned and rehearsed, which remained intact, was to open with the zippy and virtuosic Overture to La Forza del Destino by Giuseppe Verdi. Instead, the orchestra members decided to play, conductorless, the “Nimrod” movement from Edward Elgar’s Enigma Variations. This orchestra has a long history with this particular piece. For years, at the end of the final concert of the orchestra’s season, Zander would proudly introduce to his audience those “senior”(!) members of the orchestra who were graduating and moving on to the beginnings of their professional careers. After these introductions, the orchestra would then end their season with “Nimrod,” leaving nary a dry eye in the house as a result.* As one might imagine, the associations for these players – the piece itself, so rich and moving, the composer, so purely British-sounding – and, of course, their conductor, himself British and so inspiring to them – were strong and compelling. At the time of Friday’s concert, I was unaware of this ensemble’s “history” with this music and was amazed with their ability to bring it off so well without a leader to guide them. Later, of course, aware of the recent circumstances, I was very moved by this tribute. Knowing now of the players’ familiarity with this music, it makes their homage to Zander all that more poignant.

But it was also evident that these players were ready to move on. Two estimable members of the NEC Orchestra Conducting faculty were deputized to lead each half of the original concert. Hugh Wolff, the Stanford and Norma Jean Calderwood Director of Orchestras, NEC College, led a fiery reading of the Verdi overture, and an equally thrilling performance of the Beethoven Symphony No. 5 in C minor, op. 67. Each performance made no concession to the tender years of these players. Wolff’s tempi were brisk and demanding, exactly right from my point of view, and the players rose to the occasion with inspired musicmaking. Particular kudos are due to oboist Kelly Alexander, who played the famous cadenza in the Beethoven’s first movement with remarkable aplomb and beauty of tone, and to Sarah Purdy, clarinet, and Jacob Thonis, bassoon, each of whom brought clear-headed concentration and lovely timbre to their playing. Konrad Herath led a heroic ensemble of French Horns, and Jonah Ellsworth brought commanding concentration and section unanimity of sound and purpose to his leading of the ‘cello section. The progression from the Andante con moto movement through the Scherzo Allegro and its elided Allegro finale reminded me why this fabulous symphony is so justly popular. What an amazing construction it is! Special bravos go to Maestro Wolff, whose short-notice direction inspired such a committed performance. And, bless him, he played the fourth movement’s rarely heard exposition repeat.

After intermission, David Loebel, Associate Director of Orchestras, NEC College led two movements from Michael Gandolfi’s seven-movement The Garden of Cosmic Speculation and, for good measure, Claude Debussy’s La Mer.

The two Gandolfi movements – “The Zeroroom” and “Soliton Waves” – impressed with this composer’s usual high-minded creativity and energy, and made one want to dash on-line to order Robert Spano the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra’s CD of the entire piece. I haven’t always been this taken with Gandolfi’s work, and it was heartening to see him in the audience, attentive and appreciative of the hard work this ensemble put forth in realizing his music. He seemed quite happy with the results, as did the audience, which gave him a strong ovation. Though the YPO made this music “sound easy,” this was tricky and demanding repertoire.

The evening came to an atmospheric and brilliant close with a finely paced reading of Debussy’s La Mer. Maestro Lobel led precisely and clearly with many an encouraging smile to his players. Though by now fatigue surely must have been weighing upon them, they rose to the occasion with a remarkable performance. The famous cello divisi section of the first movement was played with uncommon rhythmic accuracy and beauty of tone, and the woodwinds played with flexible fluidity and attention to detail. The huge string sections (19 first violins, 20 seconds, 17 violas, and 16 ‘cellos) were attendant to every nuance urged from them by Debussy and Maestro Loebel. And what a plush sound they made!

Perhaps inclement weather contributed to the surprisingly small audience size? Bostonians need to come out and support this worthy ensemble in greater number than were present this past Friday. These players deserve all the support they can muster. I was amazed to learn that the NEC Preparatory School, of which the YPO is the elite ensemble, sponsors ELEVEN separate orchestras! New England should be very proud of its remarkable Conservatory.

Leaving Jordan Hall, I remarked to my concert companion that events such as this renewed my tottering faith in “the younger generation.” Go next time (June 1, 2012 – FREE admission!), and hear for yourself – you’ll be very glad you did.

* Special thanks to Ellen Pfeiffer, NEC Public Relations Manager, for this detail.

John W. Ehrlich is music director of Spectrum Singers, which he founded 31 years ago. He has been a singer and conductor in the Boston area for more than 30 years.

Putnam is a violinist with the Boston Symphony Orchestra and is also the founder and director of CCMS. O’Riley is a gifted pianist whom one hears infrequently as a recitalist, perhaps due to his admirable efforts as the host/chief “enabler” of the NPR/PBS broadcast programs From The Top,  a hugely entertaining showcase for youthful musicians. O’Riley travels all over the country in search of kids with outstanding classical music talent; he then provides them an enormously important launch pad by his broadcasts and often accompanies the kids from the piano. For this alone he deserves a medal of some sort, as he is nurturing the performers of classical music’s future. Sunday offered the opportunity to hear O’Riley as a soloist and a sonata collaborator, and in these he proved quite a talent indeed.

His and Putnam’s program opened with Gabriel Fauré’s melodic and engaging Sonata for Violin and Piano No. 1 in A Major, op. 13. This music, not played nearly often enough, is a gem of the repertoire. Its many charms disguise particularly challenging parts for both players, challenges not completely met in this performance. While there was pleasing give-and-take, this sonata requires more nuance and color and firm arrivals at climaxes than was offered. A wider range of color would have been nice, as there was a curious monochromatic feel to the performance. The piano, a venerable and very brightly voiced New York Steinway, was simply too bright for this music. Perhaps it was voiced more for the music to follow? In any case, the instrument worked against allowing a truly French effect to permeate the unique sound world of Fauré. The performance was accurate, to be sure, but a bit earthbound. Fauré surely should soar and sing. Yet, one is grateful for the rare opportunity to hear this wonderful piece, and the few quibbles mentioned above did not diminish the enjoyment of the audience, whose applause was genuine and heartfelt.

O’Riley introduced the next selection, Franz Liszt’s entertaining Réminiscences de Don Juan (after Mozart’s Don Giovanni), LW A80. Showing the enormous charm that has informed his broadcasts, O’Riley characterized the forthcoming music as Liszt’s encapsulation of three essential elements of the Mozart opera, though not in the opera’s original order of events: “Hell, Girl (seduction thereof), and Party.” This, he explained, better suited the dramatic exposition of Liszt’s transcription. With that, O’Riley began tearing into the fearsome challenges Liszt throws at any mere mortal who dares to play this fiendishly difficult music. Hell’s fires raged, the Girl was suavely and successfully courted, and the Party was definitely festive as projected by O’Riley’s blurred hands ranging from the top to the bottom of the keyboard, and surely all the notes in between. The piece is so over-the-top that it inspires occasional amusement in the listener in the midst of the torrents of sound. O’Riley was largely successful in his essay of this somewhat crazed work, though signs of fatigue began to appear as he approached the final measures. No wonder, after all. The piece is a monster that fully challenges all comers. Well-deserved bravos punctuated the applause at the music’s end.

After intermission, O’Riley returned with three more Liszt transcriptions, two of which were odes to spring: Robert Schumann’s Frühlingsnacht and Franz Schubert’s Frühlingsglaube, both original songs given Lisztian feathery filigrees of sweetness and light. These were a welcome a contrast to the stormy bombast of the Don Juan heard earlier. O’Riley then offered a unique presentation of Wagner’s Prelude and Liebestod from Tristan und Isolde. Because Liszt had set only the Liebestod, apparently, and not the Prelude, O’Riley went in search of a suitable transcription of the Prelude. He found it in a very abbreviated setting by the virtuoso German pianist/composer Moritz Moszkowski. Still not satisfied with Liszt’s setting of the Liebestod’s final measures – Liszt had omitted Isolde’s final cadential notes – O’Riley pluckily added these essential notes to Liszt’s score. So what O’Riley offered was his “amalgam” of the Wagner Prelude and Liebestod – a transcription fashioned from the music, O’Riley noted waggishly, of “Wagner, Liszt, Moszkowski, and O’Riley.” It was very effective. One wished for a bit more of the Prelude, but most of the Liebestod was there, and O’Riley’s emendation of Isolde’s crucial cadential notes indeed did help the finale. Kudos to Christopher for construction and performance!

Wendy Putnam returned to the stage and offered a powerful performance with O’Riley of Johannes Brahms’s seminal Sonata No. 3 in D Minor for Violin and Piano, op. 108. Here both artists seemed more at home than in the Fauré, and this music was the more successful collaboration of the afternoon. Rife with rich Brahmsian melodies, and in the finale, virtuosic and fiercely single-minded focus, this sonata presents a variegated and thoroughly accurate portrait of the composer’s creativity as he inhabited his mature years. O’Riley and Putnam were up to the work’s every challenge, and thus aptly closed an extremely rewarding concert in Concord.

The CCMS’s next concert on January 15th at 3:00 offers the opportunity to hear the BSO’s new first-chair harpist Jessica Zhou in music by André Previn, Camille Saint-Saëns, and John Williams.    

John W. Ehrlich is music director of Spectrum Singers, which he founded 32 years ago. He has been a singer and conductor in the Boston area for more than 32 years.

James Morris and Raphael Frühbeck (Stu Rosner photo)

Wagnerites, perfect and less so, hie thee to Symphony Hall today and Saturday! There you will witness a superb concert of excerpts from Die Meistersinger, the likes of which one rarely encounters, so high was the level of execution on the part of all parties on stage on Thursday, November 3rd.

Mustering with élan, heartfelt musicianship and full authority the considerable forces before him on Symphony Hall’s extended stage was the BSO’s favorite visiting maestro Raphael Frühbeck de Burgos, whose leadership over the past two weeks only further cements the notion that this man belongs in Boston on a more permanent basis than present. The sound of the orchestra was startlingly European – rich, round, full, not a trace of harshness, beautifully blended, strikingly colored and textured. The large assemblage of singers in John Oliver’s Tanglewood Festival Chorus was precise in tuning, rich in timbre, marvelously uplifting and thrilling when singing forte or more, moving and heart-touching when quietly reverent. James Morris, bass-baritone — one of the world’s leading interpreters of Wotan in Wagner’s ring cycle in opera houses world-wide — imbued his reading of Hans Sachs with subtlety and nobility. Clearly suffering from some kind of vocal stress, by evening’s end he was struggling to maintain his high notes, though not one whit of his characterization was wanting. Singing from the rear of the stage, tenor Matthew DiBattista was a bright and soulful David. And TFC member Cindy M. Vredeveld triumphed with brilliant tone in her brief but memorable appearance as Magdalene.

Conducting from memory, Frühbeck de Burgos opened his concert with delectable Haydn: the rarely-encountered Symphony No. 1 in D (1757 or 1759), complete with keyboard continuo elegantly played by John Finney, and the familiar Symphony No. 100 in G, “Military,” conducted at its 1794 premiere in London by the composer to great acclaim, so much so that he was obliged to repeat the work a week later. The non-pareil playing of the BSO in this music — so elegant the strings, so characterful the winds, so integrated the percussion —reflected the taste and informed professionalism with which Frühbeck led, betraying only a bit of “old-fashionedness” in today’s early-music informed milieu with his slowed cadences at the end of movements. However, those cadences were without exception played perfectly together, with no hint of indecision or raggedness. It was heartening to observe the smiles among the first violins as the music progressed. How could one not smile? Old-fashioned or not, give us more Haydn of this elevated sort, please!

Remarkable the ease with which Maestro Frühbeck moved from this elegant Haydn to the considerably different stylistic demands of Wagner! From the familiar rich chords and vigorous counterpoint which imbue the Meistersinger Prelude to the dramatically startling organ-enriched entrance of the chorus embodying the congregation of Nürnberg’s St. Catherine’s Church, it was immediately evident that this was to be a memorable Symphony Hall occasion. I mention Symphony Hall, because it too played a significant role in the evening’s many felicities, just as it had least week when Maestro Frühbeck de Burgos led his vivid reading of Richard Strauss’ Ein Heldenleben. While it is not new news to any concertgoers that Symphony Hall is one of the great edifices in which to hear music, the truth of this was brought home to me all the more forcefully these past two weeks. I had attended Colin Davis’s extraordinary London Symphony Orchestra concert of Beethoven’s Missa Solemnis in New York’s several-times- rebuilt Avery Fisher Hall only a couple of weeks ago, and I was reminded there, when presented with its overly bright and quite unreverberant acoustic, of how fortunate we are to hear music in Symphony Hall, whose peerless acoustics enhance any performance within its walls. And then, of course, we have the Boston Symphony Orchestra, which too rarely plays Wagner these days. This is a GREAT Wagner orchestra – one of the finest exponents of that composer’s many instrumental demands, memorable whenever it plays his music. James Levine knew this; I remember his thrilling complete Dutchman several seasons ago. And so did Colin Davis; his searing Ring excerpts many years back still resound in memory.

But enough of history. May I once again urge listeners of the present to go to Symphony Hall and hear one of this season’s surely-to-be-most memorable BSO concerts? The Meistersinger excerpts went from strength to strength. Those familiar only with the famous Overture will be bowled over by the ongoing richness of invention in this remarkable opera. Those who know this work well will be gratified to hear this remarkable score played with such panache in such a noble interpretation.

I had written earlier the following in response to Tom Delbanco’s BMInt review of Frühbeck’s Schumann/Strauss concert last week:

“…Last night RFdeB and the BSO outdid themselves. The brass, and especially the orchestra’s immensely gifted concertmaster Malcolm Lowe were at they very top of their game. But, so was everyone on stage last night – the woodwinds, the percussion, and the BSO’s fabulous strings – what a night they all had. While it may be heretical to some, why doesn’t the BSO just go ahead and sign up this world-class conductor right now? The orchestra ALWAYS plays beautifully for him, his repertoire is vast and deep, his high-minded approach to music-making is unimpeachable. He is a true old-world musician steeped in authentic tradition, something that is increasingly rare. He’s not a hot-shot young man, it’s true, but he conducts with great energy and love every time he mounts the Symphony Hall podium. His rapport with soloists is a joy to observe – the give-and-take last night between him and Gidon Kremer was obvious and salutary. RFdeB’s regular visits to Boston and Tanglewood have been consistently rewarding. If he isn’t interested in being considered for Music Director, which would be understandable, I surely hope the BSO Management would offer him a Laureate position such as has been bestowed on our other great world-class visitor Bernard Haitink. Whatever happens, we should be sure that Boston remains a welcome home away from home for him.”

Enough said. Don’t miss this week’s Haydn/Wagner BSO concert!

John W. Ehrlich is music director of Spectrum Singers, which he founded 31 years ago. He has been a singer and conductor in the Boston area for more than 32 years. Spectrum Singers’s upcoming concert is on November 12.

“By the numbers” describes the compositional schemes of Michael Gandolfi (b. 1956) and Michael-Thomas Foumai (b. 1987), both of whom gave helpful and informed pre-performance explanations of their music from the stage. Gandolfi’s Of Angels and Neurones, dating from 2009 but having its first Boston performance, came from the composer’s fascination with research related to the brainwave patterns that occur during the five stages of sleep. In his excellent program notes, available on the NE Philharmonic’s website, he pays particular homage to the work of Dr. J. Allan Hobson, in particular that researcher’s From Angels to Neurones: Art and The New Science of Dreaming (2007). Gandolfi’s music is set in seven continuous sections, each with a title such as “Stage Wake,” “Stage II (K-complexes and Sleep Spindles),” “Stage V – REM Sleep.” Each of the seven sections’ music was driven by the composer’s observation of charts of brainwave sleep-pattern printouts. This may sound a bit “out there” to the reader of these lines, but Mr. Gandolfi’s musical reflections of these brainwave charts were consistently engaging and entertaining, especially with the help of the composer’s program notes in hand. His sound characteristics are of an active American neo-classic style, quite diatonic, played in this case in a long uninterrupted arc of about twenty minutes duration. I found the music skillfully constructed, admirably orchestrated, and clearly descriptive of its brainwave charts. The orchestra gave a bright and presumably accurate reading of this lively music, with Pittman and Maddon giving incisive and readable direction from their respective positions.

After this bracing opening, Pittman moved to the first of the two 1945 compositions of the evening, the Piano Concerto No. 3 for Piano and Orchestra (1945) by Béla Bartók. Stephen Drury was the admirable soloist, whose playing of this last work penned by Bartók was pellucid, accurate, wonderfully nuanced, fiery and atmospheric. Yes, all of that, for this work asks for all of this and more. Often cited as the most accessible of the composer’s three piano concertos, it is nonetheless filled with abundant demands of the pianist’s virtuosity and imagination. Bartók’s great interest in Hungarian folk music is audible in the work’s first and third movements, and Drury played those moments with great dash and élan. The second movement is notable for its inward direction, its chorale-like writing reflecting the composer’s“Andante religioso”; here, as elsewhere, Drury and the orchestra were hand-in-glove in their exposition of the score. The concerto’s third movement was left unfinished because of the composer’s unfortunate and untimely passing, due to leukemia. The composer’s apprentice Tibor Serly appended the movement’s final seventeen measures, following Bartók’s sketchy notations, with, some claim, help from Eugene Ormandy. These and all of the pure Bartókian measures were sparklingly essayed by Drury, who surely made as strong a case for this wonderful music as one could imagine. Enthusiastic bravos from the audience rewarded him and Pittman.

After intermission Michael-Thomas Foumai’s The Light-Bringer (Symphony No. 1) (2010) was given a strong reading. As Mr. Foumai’s program notes state,“The title of this piece is taken from the translation of Lucifer’s Latin name, meaning Light-Bringer…The work is based on manipulations of the Number of the Beast, 666 (Revelation 13:17-18) …for the purposes of this work I understood it as being a representation of Lucifer. The number six is embedded within the structure ….”

This music was the winner of the New England Philharmonic’s admirable annual “Call for Scores,” and it too exhibits a very solid construction of compositional elements and canny orchestration, relying heavily on block sonorities. Echoes of the styles of music by Alan Hovhaness, Leonard Bernstein, Carl Ruggles, John Adams, and Silvestre Revueltas were apparent to me, though Foumai’s music is clearly his own. Of brief duration, it packs a wallop, and it was intriguing to listen for the composer’s permutations of the number 6 permeate the music as the work progressed.

Pittman chose Stravinsky’s challenging 1945 Symphony in Three Movements to close the evening. The orchestra gave a brave reading of this difficult score. It was clear to me, though, that this thorny and immensely tricky to play music was a bit too much of a challenge for this intrepid band, especially at the end of such a very demanding program. That being said, these players are a brave bunch, and they managed to skate through with a minimum of mishaps. Kudos is due to them all for taking it on. And as was the case throughout the entire evening, Pittman led with great clarity and assurance. This evening, for the most part, all the numbers added up.

John W. Ehrlich is music director of Spectrum Singers, which he founded 31 years ago. He has been a singer and conductor in the Boston area for more than 32 years. Spectrum Singers’s upcoming concert is on November 12.

This is a requiem unlike any other before or since, and its far-ranging influence can be seen and felt in other composers’ requiems, most obviously Verdi’s Manzoni… and Benjamin Britten’s War….

Of all the requiems, the Berlioz remains for me the most questioning, the most doubting, the most overtly fearful of death. The strange chordal resolutions throughout, the halting choral language of the opening pages, the far-spaced flute/low trombone moments heard later in the work, the quiet sets of tympani drumming their unsettling tattoos at the very end, the brasses’ pitched battle of half-step pitches with the unwilling-to-move chorus and orchestra near the end of the Lachrymosa – all these things lend this work a haunting and haunted sense of ambiguity. ‘Will there actually be a positive response to the plea “Dona nobis pacem”?’ is the mood created at the end. And, of course, the positively apocalyptic Tuba Mirum never fails to conjure terrifying Hieronymus Boschian images of the Last Judgement.

The “overwhelmingness” of Berlioz’s setting is often mentioned as its most “memorable” feature, and there is much in this music that can overwhelm. For me, however, though I’m thrilled by the sheer mass and weight of the assembled brass and percussion, it’s the softer music that holds more fascination and admiration these days. Perhaps it is this that made Charles Dutoit’s performance with the Boston Symphony Orchestra at Tanglewood this past Saturday, July 9, so unusually special. Oh, the four brass ensembles were there, of course, but they played in excellent sync with one another with an uncommonly rich and mellow timbre. Even the six sets of tympani were played in a more circumspect fashion than is usual in this work. What impressed the most in this open-air concert was the remarkable integration Dutoit brought to this music’s many disparate movements, his ideal pacing and tempi, his elegant phrasing, his attention to balance and nuance. He was clearly aiming less for splash and flash, seeking much more the lyric, of which there is a great deal more in this work than one might always think. Far in memory remained the more blazingly extrovert (and LOUD!) performances of Munch and Ozawa in this venue, though no less valid, to be sure.

As this was opening week at Tanglewood, one should probably forgive the many less-than-perfect things that were heard: several surprising false entrances from within the orchestra, an errant though thankfully soft cymbal stroke, individual voices unblended and non-agreed-upon phrase endings in the otherwise attentive Tanglewood Festival Chorus, and a tenor soloist of a lovely voice, yet whose timbre and temperament seemed less than ideal for this composition. For a Boston Symphony Orchestra concert, this list is too long. One might worry that a bit of discipline might be lacking now that that this wonderful ensemble is without a visible music director.

Yet there was much to admire. John Oliver’s TFC sang with nobility and beauty, up to the immense challenges presented by this sprawling music, the bass and alto sections particularly uniform in their sonorities. Principal English Horn Robert Sheena’s use of a particular reed or instrument tellingly colored his solo in the Quid sum miser with a very appropriate plaintiveness. Tuba artist Mike Roylance’s velvet underpinning of the sinuous melodic line in the Offertorium was a wonderment to hear, so subtle, shaped, and blended. The horns summoned up a nice, nazzy tone for their muted enharmonic interruptions at “mors stupebit” in the Tuba Mirum. The resoundingly deep bass drum strokes mid-way through the Lacrymosa were perfectly essayed – a small detail, but so important. I was intrigued that Dutoit, unlike other conductors I’ve heard, ended this most remarkable movement with a very rapid diminuendo and hardly any fermata. Shaw, Ozawa, and Munch all linger there for a while. Finally, is there any string section, anywhere, that can play the aforementioned Offertorium unison melodic lines so beautifully and so soulfully as the BSO? One senses that these wonderful players have this music deeply in their blood.

I was told after the concert that Maestro Dutoit accomplished this very moving reading of the Berlioz while quite ill and running a temperature of 102°. One surely would not have known this in the hall from his vigorous and musical leading of this challenging masterwork. Bully for him for his “show must go on” attitude, and much gratitude is extended to the BSO and TFC for going his way so willingly. For all its little flaws of execution, this Berlioz Requiem from the Tanglewood Shed will be one to remember.

John W. Ehrlich is music director of Spectrum Singers, which he founded 31 years ago. He has been a singer and conductor in the Boston area for more than 30 years.

Unfortunately, several issues conspired to make this occasion a disappointment:

1: No texts were provided; 2: The program book was totally at odds with the order of the works the group performed, which necessitated Wickham’s need several times from the stage verbally to correct the program book’s listings; 3: Owing, he said, to “the New Hampshire heat,” though the evening was pleasantly cool, Wickham twice begged the audience’s indulgence to shorten the program’s length; 4: The singers were score-bound, with only a few singers regularly watching their helpful leader; 5: The choir gave evidence of not being fully prepared on much of the repertoire. I wrote “shaky” several times in my note-taking throughout the evening. 6: While exhibiting excellent intonation in almost all that they sung – chords “locked” pleasingly at the ends of most pieces — there were just too many instances of false entrances here and there, occasioning a visible befuddlement on the faces of a couple of singers who had strayed from the printed score; 7: The programming was a puzzlement, with seemingly not much thought put into how to construct a program which ought to begin brilliantly, constantly build upon itself, and reach a musical highpoint by the end. Come, Holy Ghost by Jonathan Harvey which closed the concert before its obligatory encore, was a work of interesting construction, but its execution seemed lacking in energy and coherence, owing, perhaps, to vocal fatigue and that New Hampshire heat; and 8: The women’s attire was distractingly disparate. The first lady to come on stage did so in a very tight dress quite short of modesty for an elevated stage and wore sheer black stockings. Other women were bare-legged, yet another wore black pants, skirts were of varying length and jewelry was of such a variety as to be further distracting. On the other hand, the men’s attire was undistracting and appropriate.

On the plus side, the several soloists — unfortunately left unnamed by either Monadnock’s program book or the choir’s Director — knew their parts well, sang beautifully, and showed a welcome professional stage deportment. There is obviously some real vocal talent within this choir.

Despite all of the aforementioned issues, the generous audience awarded the singers a standing ovation spiked with some cheering from the galleries. My opinion of the evening was clearly at odds with most of those in the audience.

I realize that it is a truly good thing that these eager young singers are devoting part of their summer vacation to enthusiastically present beautiful music of their countrymen. Perhaps it is churlish of me to have expected a higher standard of execution from this ensemble. Yet I would suggest that if they wish to be judged as the equal of the finest of amateur ensembles that regularly appear throughout New England, there is much more for them to undertake to achieve this admittedly high standard. As a very knowledgeable audience member was overheard to say: “These kids just aren’t quite ready for prime time.”

John W. Ehrlich is music director of Spectrum Singers, which he founded 31 years ago. He has been a singer and conductor in the Boston area for more than 30 years.