A very boyish-looking Hilary Anne Walker brought Cherubino to life. The unwavering harpsichord accompaniment of Julia Carey richly and expressively textured the recitatives. The more you heard and saw Kim, the more convincing and appealing he became. His voice subtly allures. Wright, on the other hand, started strong, then, perhaps due to his highly relaxed, almost informal presence, turned into more of a friendly neighbor than a Figaro — but his voice always entertained.

Susanna played by Vanessa Julia Isiguen never caught fire. But Marcellina, who is discovered to be Figaro’s own mother, came off as cheerful, even giddy at times, this, because of Margaret Felice’s light and lovely voice. Erin M. Smith, the Countess Almaviva, was inconsistent, her vocal details particularly needing more attention. One of the best things that happened was in the duets and ensemble singing, where just about everyone seemed to sound better, working so naturally with one another.

The medium-sized Tower Auditorium at MassArts, really a lecture hall (so with less reverberation than found in some of the dedicated spaces around town), did not significantly hamper voices but probably did expose more of the wrong-doing by virtually every instrumentalist. One wonders if the fairly small stage played more of a role in limiting action and sets, or if it was the economy of the State, or better still, and which is more probable, the financial resources of the opera company itself.

Fine slender columns found new configurations; later a bed became a desk, and in the final act, garlands of small lights were looped about, heightening the very pleasing satiny-gold aura and giving the entire production a subdued royal elegance. Dancing during the wedding scene and a few other such smaller moves suggested there be more. A touching moment came when the Count simply kneeled before the Countess to ask her forgiveness. If there could have been more movement, play of lighting, and set cleverness, this three-hour opera could have had more impact. For the eye, the production finally became static.

All in all, almost all went well when one also considers the unbeatable price of a ticket at $25, with students coming in at $15. An ongoing issue with expensive events, accessibility cannot be blamed for keeping anyone away from opera. Had the Red Sox been away, free parking would have been easy for most to find. To boot, good refreshments could be had at good prices.

Performed in Italian with English supertitles, The Marriage of Figaro under the stage direction of Michael Ouellette may not be a must-see, but why not check it out, if you can. Adam Boyles, music director, must be asked about the orchestra: did he field these players? With another weekend of performances scheduled, can something be done, even in so short a time? Another cast will take over, so why not another orchestra?

Really, even the least experienced know when it gets this bad. Why not forgo the commitment to early instruments and get some modern ones in that can hold tune and play up tempo? Besides, I understand that only a few string players actually played on old instruments; most all merely held their modern bows higher up while using a two-plus-two formula: two gut strings (early-instrument idea) and two metal strings (modern). I also learned that a fortepiano could not be acquired, thus the harpsichord—which turned out be one of the best things all afternoon on July 18.

In its fourth season, Boston Opera Collaborative’s all-volunteer cast and crew are fresh to most Bostonians, including myself. This, in itself, might be compelling reason for taking a chance on them. Remaining performances take place Friday through Sunday July 23-25.

David Patterson, Professor of Music and former Chairman of the Performing Arts Department at UMass Boston,  was recipient of a Fulbright Scholar Award and the Chancellor’s Distinction in  Teaching Award. He studied with Nadia Boulanger and Olivier  Messiaen in Paris and holds a PhD from Harvard University. www.notescape.net

Declarative sections alternated with virtuosic interplay. The ending revved up for the final knock-out punch to a brief but engaging encounter with Chinese music which took place Tuesday afternoon, June 22. It was full steam ahead on only two Chinese instruments—one of them just a half-sized version. Amazingly, throughout their 30-minute program, Thwaits’ pipa and Gao’s erhu sounded larger than life in King’s Chapel, there being a presence even in the softest plucked string and the slightest wisp of sound from the bowed string.

Particularly curious, of the seven pieces played, most, whether fast or slow, ended on a gentle note, what one might interpret as a concluding gesture of politeness, or better, graciousness. And not that there wasn’t emotion in their playing, especially that from Gao whose sensitive and imaginative sphere of sounds continually revolved, a nasal sound here, a subtle trill there, a nuanced slide from out of nowhere.

You might be wondering about being able to follow a musical language such as that from China. This little gem of a concert at midday was anything but difficult. Gao led off with The Grapes Are Ripe, originally a Xinjiang folksong, in which could be heard “the joy of the farmers as they harvest the ripe grapes.” It approached sounding a little reminiscent of blue grass fiddling. Thwaits then took over with The Night of the Touch Festival, a pipa solo piece meant to express “the happiness of the villagers dancing to welcome the coming of spring.”  Their dance appeared in a well-marked 4/4 time that was simple, straightforward and easy to follow.

Gao’s and Thwaits’ continued alternation of solos kept the mind’s ears fresh for unlabored listening—and understanding. Unwanted listening guidance came from recorded accompaniments to all of Hongwei Gao’s three solos, one of them being Yesterday Once More. Yes, the Carpenter’s hit pop song. Despite the mechanical yet gooey canned orchestral background, I fell for the opening phrases of this quintessential American song coming out of one of China’s own classic instruments. But fatigue set in quickly. This did not work even in the short run (as much as I had hoped it would). Sameness won out. (Was it the power of the machine?)

For some reason, slow moving or quiet music, be it Chinese or not, can mystify, and that was what happened in another pipa solo, this one describing “the stillness of the moon.” Here, Yun Thwaits elegantly shaped this ancient melody over its minimal background of strategically placed notes. And again, she created contrast after contrast through various pipa techniques.

Not a mystery is what “pipa” simply means. The first syllable stands for forward plucking and the second syllable for backward plucking. It’s not unlike thinking about the pianoforte or as it would be translated, the “soft-loud.”

I understand that Yun Thwaits has been appearing at King’s Chapel every June for quite a few years, each time bringing a guest performer. I would encourage Bostonians and tourists alike to relax during the lunch hour next year for what should be another sojourn worth taking in

David Patterson, Professor of Music and former Chairman of the Performing Arts Department at UMass Boston, was recipient of a Fulbright Scholar Award and the Chancellor’s Distinction in  Teaching Award. He studied with Nadia Boulanger and Olivier  Messiaen in Paris and holds a PhD from Harvard University.His website is  www.notescape.net

Far off fanfare flourishes found stronger ground in Fiat Lux (Let There be Light) by Théodore DuBois, culminating in a virtuoso display of fast fingers and modulations (many of which you will find in his famous treaty on harmony). Before the Dubois, Abbott introduced his “preview recital,” his “trial run,” saying that if anyone had pencil and score they “might mark down the wrong notes to be corrected for Paris.”

From my vantage point, I heard nothing noticeably wrong. Everyone heard the cipher lingering on after the DuBois. “That particular note is not my mistake,” commented Abbot, who then got the stuck note to go away.

Clean in his approach, Abbot finely orchestrated the colorful and expressive late-19th-century pieces on his program, bringing about remarkable lucidity throughout. Often there was lift from both his registration and fluid execution, such as in the Scherzo from Symphonie IV of Charles-Marie Widor. Swirling, murmuring plays of flutes, streams of meandering notes commented on by light and puffy punctuations was enormously charming. In a trio section gone somewhat Baroque, Abbott pulled out some more inviting stops in a kind of tongue-and-cheek mix of trills and imitative passagework.

Fineness everywhere in Abbott’s playing also lent its hand to sustainability. Though a short program, only once did my daydreaming slightly emerge, and that was in the Adagio from the same symphony. But my sense is that the composition — not the playing— was weak. A rapidly undulating tremolo was another culprit. Imagine an overly long ending with one incessantly trembling chord sustained above little action. This movement’s composition is questionable.

Romance from another French Symphonie IV, this one by Louis Vierne, also enchanted. A touching melody, the kind we have come to know through the Romantics, sounding over rippling accompaniment, was dressed with rich wrap-around sound and sensitively shaped nuances.

Having spent two years studying in Paris and hearing the greats including Marcel Duprés, Jean Langlais and Olivier Messiaen, I assume that the French will welcome the masterful playing of Leo Abbot. But there is one exception: why on earth is the concluding piece, Vexilla Regis Prodeunt (1995) composed by Naji Hakim and commissioned by Abbott, going abroad? It shouldn’t be. Hakim was Abbott’s improvisation teacher. But this, a composition, wasn’t even good improvisation, all bravura and theft without even covering the composer’s tracks, pedal points in various disguises — and it was the longest piece on the program!

Two upcoming concerts at the Cathedral are scheduled: Peter Latona, Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, Washington D. C. will improvise and play music of Franck and Duruflé on June 13; Paul Murray, Holy Family Church, New York City, will perform Vierne’s Symphony II on June 20. Both concerts begin at 3 pm.

David Patterson, Professor of Music and former Chairman of the Performing Arts Department at UMass Boston,  was recipient of a Fulbright Scholar Award and the Chancellor’s Distinction in  Teaching Award. He studied with Nadia Boulanger and Olivier  Messiaen in Paris and holds a PhD from Harvard University. www.notescape.net

Looking spring-like in their multicolored attire, Anthology’s presentation met somewhere in the middle of a formal and informal format. In an unusual move that could very well be off-putting to some, the ensemble performed each of the new pieces twice. This was to offer the listeners an opportunity “to have a different sonic experience each time” — albeit with the quickly added disclaimer that amused: “if they are too different, that means something is going on up here” (that shouldn’t be).

Anthology’s own introductions to the compositions pointed out how the composers, all but one of whom were present at the concert, had set various phrases of the text to music. Billing themselves as enthusiasts of “classical choral music, hot jazz, Renaissance polyphony, world folk traditions, and music from the razor’s edge of local Boston compositions” —  this eclecticism explains the ensemble’s name — the quartet’s focus this Sunday afternoon was on the last of these and included at least one composer from out of town.

Anthology sang with conviction and joy, their four voices almost the only sounds of the afternoon (there was a gardening enthusiast shoveling away in counter rhythms outside the church, but fortunately someone in the audience went outside, successfully calling a hiatus to his work). Theirs is a sound centered on full-throated, vibrato-less brightness with open vowels leading the way, so not all of their words can be understood.

The group appears to luxuriate in beats. The Harvard Dictionary of Music describes this as “A slight, steady pulsation in intensity…Beats can occur between the fundamental of one pitch and a higher harmonic of another as well as between the two fundamentals…” Anthology illustrated this in its second performance of Moonphase by Peter Bell, calling our attention to the harmonics they would be producing in the piece. They moved further away from us, back into the altar for this purpose. Exceeding the effect of the audible production of harmonics was that of beats. At the all-out fortissimo middle section one’s ears could actually feel the air flapping at them. That was unusual and remarkable.

It has to be a big “yes” for this ensemble’s thorough learning of this widely varied music, its courage and outreach to beyond the established, and, even more, its involvement and encouragement of new music from young composers. One feels that given time and experience, more can come from their dedicated voices. For the time being, too little attention was directed toward dynamics and expressivity; all too often their vocal brightness shed its own colors and timbres, which were obviously restricting. But the composers were somewhat guilty themselves. Most all could not resist depending on the high, “intense and exciting” notes in soprano upper registers. And what they could not really resist is what is so tempting for the inexperienced, the urge to paint every word or phrase of the text, forgetting that overall shape, organic development, build, and the like are the stuff of coherent composition. Idealism played its role: peace, the moon’s dark and light side as a mirror of the human condition, to name a few.

Exceptions were Night Owl and Of the Phoenix by Steven Serpa, which captured much of the action as well as the detail of these medieval texts. Po-Chun Wang’s Awakenings sung in Chinese had Anthology-created effects suggestive of a Chinese instrument, possibly the erhu. Wang’s musical vocabulary went expressively beyond the conservative sounds of those of the other composers.

David Patterson, Professor of Music and former Chairman of the Performing Arts Department at UMass Boston,  was recipient of a Fulbright Scholar Award and the Chancellor’s Distinction in  Teaching Award. He studied with Nadia Boulanger and Olivier  Messiaen in Paris and holds a PhD from Harvard University. www.notescape.net

Surprises popped up like spring growth can do here in New England. The wow of the afternoon display goes to pianist, Leslie Amper—yes, I said pianist. Karidoyanes informed us that going from Charles Ives to more choral music might not work so well and so a break from singing was in order.

I have never, ever heard George Gershwin’s Preludes so wonderfully delivered as I did with Amper at the keyboard. She zipped through the first tough prelude, making it look and sound easy. It had all those neat bustling New York street rhythms from the earlier decades of the 20th century. In the second prelude, a brooding left hand played offish to a handsome singing right hand fully warm. Then followed that middle section in the major key with its mildly pulsing chords behind a gentlemanly, blues-ish and altogether attractive jazz utterance. Even zippier was Gershwin’s third prelude, Amper springing up off the piano bench on the ultimate outrageously sultry keyboard outbursts. Wow! American magic, these two!

And there was another surprise in this “choral garden” and that was the voice of countertenor Gerrod Pagenkopf, who emitted one gorgeous mellifluousness after another. His vowels, in every register they appeared, sprouted into the loveliest of sounds you can imagine, always pure and innocent, and perfect for this spring afternoon, a season that marks birth, an inward breath — the inspiration. This, he accomplished in Leonard Bernstein’s The Lark, a kind of history relived, the earlier eras of music history reseeded. Narrator Holly Samuels got the right feel of the intervening text, setting up the out-of-order song sequence starting with “French Choruses” and ending with “Latin Choruses.” It was quite a close with the chorus in the “Gloria” verging on real cacophony accompanied by clustered chiming from the percussionist.

The most chorally satisfying music on this program came from Samuel Barber and his Reincarnations: “Mary Hynes,” “Anthony O’Daly” and “The Coolin (The Fair Haired Ones).” The 89-member Masterworks Chorale spirited through the “she” lines of the first piece and impressed with a diminuendo to a finely tuned chord with sopranos way up top. In the second piece, drone-like repetitions from the men contrasted sharply with the ever bright timbre of the sopranos. The “Coolin” opened excellently but ended in somewhat of a blur.

The 89 vibratos and timbres might explain the overall sound produced by the Masterworks Chorale, the resulting sonic haziness. Simpler harmonies fared better, the more complex not so well. The bimodal setting of the 67th Psalm of New England’s Charles Ives, pitting the upper voices in one key against the lower voices in another key, shed a bit of the haziness, but a laden quality pervaded.

Puzzling was the arrangement of the voices: sopranos to the audience’s left facing in diagonally toward the conductor, altos to the audience’s right also facing in diagonally toward the conductor, basses and tenors dead center facing the audience, with spaces between men and the women. When the music was particularly conducive to spatial projection, such as in imitative passages as those in the fugal section of Bernstein’s “Prelude” from The Lark, this configuration was completely satisfactory. For creating blend though, it was another matter. Unison singing of Charles Ives’s songs left much to be desired.

“Stomp your foot up on the floor.

Throw the windows open,

Take a breath of fresh June air, and dance around the room.

The air is free, the night is warm,

The music’s here, and here’s my home.”

That’s how this program ended. It was Aaron Copland’s music from The Tender Land.

If you think there’s power in numbers and if you like talk from the conductor’s corner , as in music lessons, then you might want to give this precision-oriented chorus a listen. Be aware that they are moving from Sundays to Friday nights next season.

David Patterson, Professor of Music and former Chairman of the Performing Arts Department at UMass Boston,  was recipient of a Fulbright Scholar Award and the Chancellor’s Distinction in  Teaching Award. He studied with Nadia Boulanger and Olivier  Messiaen in Paris and holds a PhD from Harvard University. www.notescape.net

Ángel A. Amy Moreno photo

On Mother’s Day, May 9, “Welcome Summer” concertized its way into Sanders Theatre at Harvard University via the Pro Arte Chamber Orchestra of Boston. Soprano Nina Moe ushered in George Gershwin’s “Summertime” from Porgy and Bess with loveliness of voice, a very finely tuned glissando sliding from a beautiful high A on downward into clear low register without a break in timbre and ending up the famous lullaby. Guest Conductor Joel Smirnoff turned the orchestra into a finely tuned and luxurious accompaniment. All that was lacking was warmth, a motherly sound, an American atmosphere, perhaps.

Nothing much if anything apparent having to with summer was the closer to “Welcome Summer”—Joseph Haydn’s symphony and concerto mash-up, Sinfonia concertanteHob.I:105. Soloists Kristina Nilsson, violin, Nancy Dimock, oboe, Ronald Haroutounian, bassoon and Steve Laven, cello, brought off this high entertainment music in every way. It was a gusty performance like the wind outside in Cambridge over this spring weekend. Smirnoff and Pro Arte played up a storm behind them, just the right balance. Thanks to Haydn and to everybody onstage, time flew by and so did where we were. It was a most welcome and scintillating escape into another time and place.

Going back to American atmosphere, what might that be: informality, directness, a touch of liberty, openness, maybe? The rendering of Gershwin’s “Summertime” caught the ear with purity and clarity; it could not have been innocence, however, as I kept getting the feeling that before me was a soloist and a team of musicians fully engaged in their art, with a take loftier than I would have preferred for the American pieces.

I looked forward to experiencing an atmosphere of a different kind in Samuel Barber’s setting of the words of the American writer James Agee, a piece for voice and orchestra called Knoxville: Summer of 1915: “It has become that time of evening when people sit on their porches rocking gently and talking gently…” Later, the father has put away his hose; the grass is still wet where quilts have been placed for the family to gather.

Humid air haunting the higher string passages, gentle rocking rhythms in harp and flute, a relaxed and unassuming flow in the orchestra, and the child posing in soprano voice, my take on this picturesque music was that it was not quite realized by the performers. Beauty of sound from Pro Arte and soloist Moe were the perpetrators of a straight-ahead performance that once in a while verged on the moody, the climatic. One reason for this was overly loud playing; softness came a bit over the decibel level so that, when the fortissimo toward the end came, there was little difference from before. Opposite that, the pianissimo at the tail of “Now is the night one blue dew” coming on a high B-flat and A in long durations which could have been so moving, came rather on the loud side in Nina Moe’s interpretation.

Professionalism is not enough in this town full of music. There was evidence here and in another seasonal expression, this one by the Hungarian, Zoltán Kodály called Summer Evening, in which the Pro Arte musicians showed they can handle a lot not only in the way of technique, style and ensemble but at times, more. The English horn solos were filled with beautiful tone. There were nuances, too. How long does one wait to hear this instrument live, never mind so utterly communicative?

All in all, unsettling might be the best way to describe today’s experience. The programming of a summerfest was premature. Elevated professionalism could have reached out more toward communication.

David Patterson, Professor of Music and former Chairman of the Performing Arts Department at UMass Boston,  was recipient of a Fulbright Scholar Award and the Chancellor’s Distinction in  Teaching Award. He studied with Nadia Boulanger and Olivier  Messiaen in Paris and holds a PhD from Harvard University. www.notescape.net

When the bassoonist appeared at the concert, smiles appeared on faces, lighting up with delight. “The bassoon is Elvis (or perhaps an Elvis impersonator)” wrote Michael Daugherty, composer of Dead Elvis (1993). “Did Elvis sell out his Southern folk authenticity to the sophisticated professionalism of Hollywood movies… and Las Vegas in order to attain great wealth and fame?”

The Chamber Orchestra of Boston deferred judgment in its pre-concert announcement: “You be the judge. Ron Haroutunian is the bassoon soloist and rumor has it that Elvis may make an appearance.” He did, before a small gathering on Saturday night, April 24, at First Church in Boston. Haroutunian was dressed to the nines in vintage Elvis: white rhinestone and sequin-studded garb — shades and all. And for the last few measures of the fairly short and very frantic piece, Elvis’s impersonator played on almost bended knee, in a nod to the Rock n’Rolling King.

Such spectacle may explain, in part, why Daugherty receives note as “one of the most frequently commissioned, programmed and recorded composers on the American concert music scene today.”

Also appearing, in The Soldier’s Tale (1918-19) by Igor Stravinsky, was actress, director, writer, and teacher Paula Plum, who has enjoyed 30 years on virtually all of Boston’s stages and has fistfuls of awards to show for her many outstanding performances. Amazingly she took on all the roles herself: the narrator, the soldier who sold his violin for riches, the devil (and his two personas), the king, and the princes. A keen ear for detail and an obvious self-awareness allowed Plum to step back, as it were, in deference to her characters. Though she created her own special affecting touch in an artfully rhythmic and cadenced portrayal of the story, she was not the show.

Dubbed a musical soirée by event coordinator Mary Anne Carlson, a reception of the most unusual culinary treats — Elvis favorites — followed the music. It was then that we learned that Plum’s 90-year-old coach had worked with her the day before, actually joining her to convince her to put some dance into the dramatic mix. And like her reading, her princess’s dancing was done with élan.

Whether it was the acoustics playing out or whether it was his playing itself, Charles Dimmick, violin, took the boring bite out of those short down bows at the frog (the part of the bow closest to the hand, which so many violinists accentuate). Like that of the other performers, his was an eloquent voice in The Soldier’s Tale.

Aline Benoit’s clarinet and Ronald Haroutunian’s bassoon elegantly colored high register notes like those found in “The Soldier’s March.” Steven Emery captured one of the most memorable lines of the entire score, that coming in “The Royal March.” Trombonist Hans Bohn countered Emery’s trumpet with his own ensemble mingling. Fine harmonics and ostinatos figured in Irving Steinberg’s bass part. Jeffrey Fisher’s drums were “tuned” just right. His muffled “footsteps” at the end, where he played for 14 measures completely alone, accompanied Plum’s defeated soldier’s exit.

Looking altogether elegant, David Feltner, Music Director of The Chamber Orchestra of Boston, appeared in tails to conduct this superb soirée. Just the way he looked and led his seven-piece band reflected the evening’s elegance. Stravinsky’s transplanting and transformation of folk into art was realized in Feltner’s recreation of The Soldier’s Tale. As complex as the mixed meters populating the score were, under Feltner’s direction and the COB’s execution, they felt absolutely natural in tango, waltz, ragtime, and all.

This is The Chamber Orchestra of Boston’s continuation of a truly adventurous exploration of “the intersection of classical music and popular culture.” So why weren’t more of Boston’s “Music Nation” present for this singular event?

David Patterson, Professor of Music and former Chairman of the Performing Arts Department at UMass Boston,  was recipient of a Fulbright Scholar Award and the Chancellor’s Distinction in  Teaching Award. He studied with Nadia Boulanger and Olivier  Messiaen in Paris and holds a PhD from Harvard University. www.notescape.net

“My Salvi harp,” she says in a full-page ad appearing in the program booklet, “gives me the possibility to express myself the way I want. It is unique in its richness of sound and colors and is a true inspiration.” Together, she and her Salvi found opportunities galore in the Argentinean composer’s multihued score that includes some 34 percussion instruments with the harp briefly becoming the 35th in the first movement, where she was called upon to tap out a rhythm with both hands on the harp’s sounding board.

To what extent she could vary the sound of the harp’s strings could be a study in and of itself. There were fleshy, warm, sustained utterances, chilling, rattling strums from fingernails flat against the strings, feathery glissandi and forcefully plucked strings in rapid arpeggios. But back to where she took us in the Ginastera.

Only the audience’s slightest shuffling about could be heard during the pauses between movements, so wrapped up it apparently was in this magnetic performance by the young and gifted Dutch musician. Balance of harp and orchestra, you think, might have been a problem? Hard to believe, but maybe a handful of the harp’s notes could be seen and not heard. Both Gwyneth Wentink and Boston Philharmonic penetrated profoundly into the unusual space of this improbable concerto, both running away with its uncommon personal and mystical folkloric bent.

How lucky! It turns out that soloist Wentink drove from Amsterdam to Madrid, a two-day trip, in order to catch a plane to Boston, this due, of course, to Iceland’s volcano interfering with air travel in Europe.

Yet another discovery for many listeners was the nine-minute cultish and brutish music by Mexican composer, Silvestre Revueltas, a piece about the African-Cuban ritual of snake sacrifice entitled Sensemayá. Since Benjamin Zander mentioned his getting a tip about the piece from Gustavo Dudamel about this music, it may also be of interest to learn that the young conductor and his now well-known Orquesta Sinfónica de la Juventud Venezolana Simón Bolívar can be heard in an explosive performance fresh with youth and ethnic understanding on YouTube.

To open the program with this blockbuster of driven folk rhythms in a seven count (rather than the usual three or four) and to follow it with the Ginastera dares audience and orchestra alike. But the performance, while aiming for hot and fiery, wound up overly worked and loud. Steamy intensity and power generated in Ginastera was absent. The experience was a ritual for the listener as observer rather than an absorbing ceremony.

Still more discoveries came from Zander and his immense and talented orchestra bursting with experience and enthusiasm in a successful exploration of The Rite of Spring. Recast with fabulous colors from many different instruments were quite a number of Stavinsky’s ever amazing orchestral textures. As in their performance of Revueltas’ ritualistic music, Part I of Stravinky’s Rite was overworked. The orchestra did gather up collective steam in Part II, conjuring suspense, which, in turn, allowed the primal outbursts and semi-climaxes their full impact.

The 7:30 pm start time was actually closer to 7:45. The concert began as a lecture-demonstration — “discovery,” as it were. Zander, the teacher, offered all kinds of information on the opener, engaging the audience with unlimited excitement in chanting rhythms. To demonstrate his points, he led the orchestra in excerpts. He did this, too, at still greater length, for the Stravinsky. Total playing time for the three works on the program came to about 70 minutes. With an intermission, the concert ended just after 10 o’clock. Although, for many of his devoted followers, the ratio of lecture to concert brought delight, for me, one of the reasons the concerto reached the heights that it did was because the music was allowed to speak for itself.

The program will be repeated Saturday night 8 pm at Jordan Hall and on Sunday afternoon 3 pm again at Sanders.

David Patterson, Professor of Music and former Chairman of the Performing Arts Department at UMass Boston,  was recipient of a Fulbright Scholar Award and the Chancellor’s Distinction in  Teaching Award. He studied with Nadia Boulanger and Olivier  Messiaen in Paris and holds a PhD from Harvard University. www.notescape.net

Composer, Carlisle Floyd with Cast (BU Photography)

Boston University’s production of Carlisle Floyd’s Susannah, a musical drama in two acts, opened Thursday night, April 15, at that institution’s Huntington Theater. Its Opera Institute and Chamber Orchestra hit bright spots in a mostly dark series of twisted circumstances involving Christian zealots in the rural south. The composer himself was there to take a bow before a near full house. Also there was Phyllis Curtin, who received flowers and applause from those who were able to spot her in the orchestra section. It was Curtin who sang in the premiere of Susannah given in Tallahassee, Florida, 55 years ago.

It was quite a night at the, well, we cannot say “opera” for that is not how the creator of Susannah, who wrote both libretto and music, defines his work. Floyd has been in town during the week coaching the BU students. While not as engaging as one would like, both creation and recreation had enough traction to hold attention. As for an emotional ride into the realm of rural religious folk, it was more often even keel than moving.

After the opening scenes of near “hee-haw” dancing by the town’s folk and a playfully upbeat, down-home duet between Susannah and her brother, Sam, came little respite from a pervasive menacing undercurrent. Though probably not intentional, the copse of birch visible in all 12 scenes appeared more on the warm, than the ominous side, lit by an orangey glow, beneath a faintly foreboding sky. Green leaves filled in the foreground. The eye-catching sets, in and of themselves, were so good that at times they dwarfed the drama.

Ashley Logan as Susannah and Clayton Hilley as Sam Polk (BU Photography)

Clayton Hilley played Sam Polk and became him: he looked, played, and sang like real country folk. Vowels not usually found in the high art of singing found their way here to most refreshing effect. His was the benchmark for believable character. Understanding just about every word he sang was not hard work for the listener.

Ashley Logan was Susannah. She will perform again on Saturday, taking turns with Chelsea Basler who will assume that role for the Friday and Sunday dates. A lot of voice comes from this young soprano, Logan. Only a few potentially lovely notes are scored in the drama and she made the most of most of them. Her high register was shrill in forte passages and nearly unbearable in climactic moments demanding a fortissimo or more. Her singing about the starry sky from up on her porch roof would have had more of an impact had many more of the words been understood.

She, the supporting cast, and chorus, did not match Sam’s southern sound—with one exception. Deep and often-rounded and sometimes rich bass tones from John Paul Huckle as Olin Blitch, the small town preacher, along with some mighty strong “southern” singing and mostly clear diction were impressive. Omar Najmi shaped his character, Little Bat McLean, into a somewhat quixotic personality through unusual quirky tautness and quickness that became more and more appealing.

Both cast and chorus in their country costumes injected enough down-to-earth feeling all around. But their performance spiked to excellent effect in the hymn singing and baptism scene, and then, again, in a most powerful way, in the finale. Sharon Daniels was stage director. The orchestra of 37 players under William Lumpkin produced a veritable brand of threatening sound which served no small role in moving Floyd’s dark music forward. Balance should not have surfaced as a concern as often as it did; instruments not only eclipsed voices, they intruded on the action.

Ashley Logan as Susannah and John Paul Huckle as Olin Blitch (BU Photography)

But it is worth it all. How often does the chance come along to see American opera performed live onstage with composer and diva in the very midst of a student production? It was a kind of historic moment. Three more performances are scheduled through April 18.

David Patterson, Professor of Music and former Chairman of the Performing Arts Department at UMass Boston,  was recipient of a Fulbright Scholar Award and the Chancellor’s Distinction in  Teaching Award. He studied with Nadia Boulanger and Olivier  Messiaen in Paris and holds a PhD from Harvard University. www.notescape.net

The first violinist’s legs and feet flying left and right and into midair could not go unnoticed. But who could have guessed this happened with Haydn’s String Quartet in E-flat Major, Opus 9, No. 2, the St. Lawrence String Quartet’s program opener? Some found it distracting, but not all. Early Haydn might induce some R and R but not a chance with these four. The same would go for their Dvorák, the String Quartet No. 13 in G Major, Opus 106. Then, while everyone knew there would be no electronics involved in this concert (the Adams quartet), voltage control was, however, in order. It was an evening of staggering performances, artful in all but one way. Most apparent, the pianos, pianissimos and even mezzo fortes in Dvorák’s score mostly went unobserved. If the amplitude came close, a puzzling underlying energy continued on. It could have been a fatiguing night out. What this quartet can do is quite remarkable.

Their highly charged and disciplined approach to Haydn right away was a clear indicator of why America’s leading light, John Adams, would so take to them. It was their performance back in 2007 of his Alleged Dances at Stanford University, where they are in residence, that inspired Adams to compose a piece for them. The world premiere was given in January 2009 at The Juilliard School, who commissioned his 30-minute String Quartet in two movements. Interestingly, the work is listed as being published by Boosey & Hawkes, yet after a thorough online search only one score popped up and that can be found in Julliard’s library.

Adams: “It’s perfectly OK if you leave this experience not really having an idea what you’ve heard! I recently heard a performance of the Bartók First Quartet for the first time in my life—I knew the other quartets, but did not know the First. It took me about ten hearings to get a rough feel for the shape of it—and I’m a composer!”

As with this admission, Adams’s honesty cutting right through into the matter was ever-present in his string quartet. His boyish American imagination knowing no boundaries finds candid, open ways of expression. There is always mind over his visceral matter. Naturalness in his crafting every rhythm and every color brings genuineness to an unmistakable voice. His finds from the world around us make their way into his music as celebration. However, I did not hear “Haight-Ashbury and rock” which the St. Lawrence String Quartet pointed out for us to hear.

Whereas Shaker Loops, El Niño, and Dr. Atomic remain for me his very best from the very first time I heard them, I will need to listen to his string quartet again—as Adams has pointed out about his hearing Bartók. What really surprised me was not really getting his quartet the first time. But then, who knows what John Adams will come up with next? There is no one making music today the way he does. He’s number one. Let’s go back and listen!

The St. Lawrence String Quartet’s encore of country-to-concert hall fiddling in Adams’ “Pavan” from Alleged Dances was exhilarating and fun right down to the final, humble bow taken by this out-of-this-world celebratory dance.

David Patterson, Professor of Music and former Chairman of the Performing Arts Department at UMass Boston,  was recipient of a Fulbright Scholar Award and the Chancellor’s Distinction in  Teaching Award. He studied with Nadia Boulanger and Olivier  Messiaen in Paris and holds a PhD from Harvard University. www.notescape.net