San Francisco Classical Voice

The concert's lasting impression was made by Beethoven's Christus am Ölberge (“Christ on the Mount of Olives”), an unreasonably neglected work, here properly sung in German and masterfully conducted by Nagano. Composed in the manner of an opera, this oratorio is recognizably a forerunner of Fidelio, a resemblance that, curiously, escaped the tenor soloist, Bruce Sledge. The strength and individuality of this conception, to F.X. Huber's text, was Beethoven's humanizing of Jesus. In his great opening recitative and aria, Jesus gives vent to terror at the impending events with a despair that links this to Florestan's dungeon aria. Sledge sang musically in a fine, clear and carrying voice, though he often punctuated phrases with breaths, breaking the longer line. More important, this is Beethoven, not Mozart, wanting dramatic, tenor forza not lyric approach (though to be sure, Sledge got more into it as the oratorio continued).

A dark and dramatic overture builds directly to the opening scene, operatic although it quotes none of the music to come). A Seraph responds to Jesus' aria in a recitative and splendid, powerful aria, sung by the soprano Pamela Coburn, her voice beautiful and true, committed in spirit. In some passage work, however, she loosened her technique and slipped or slid through the rapid descending figurations. The operatic manner continues in the strong duet of Jesus and the Seraph, and in the raging defense by Peter (the sturdy, dark-toned bass Christopher Robertson). The humanizing continues in Peter's referring to Jesus as “my friend and master.”

A male chorus enters the action as soldiers seizing Jesus, combined later with Disciples lamenting. It's good dramatic stuff, even if mitigated by the typically American dainty diction of Richard Grant's Pacific Mozart Ensemble. The PME's women choristers joined in the heartily sung great final chorus, “Welt singen Dank und Ehre . . . Preiset ihn,” the single familiar selection from “The Mount of Olives.” A beloved staple on chorus programs, as it is usually sung, in the English (“Hallelujah”) with piano accompaniment, it's not nearly as effective as it was Wednesday. The energy and punch of the German consonants and the power of Beethoven's orchestration made it a different piece altogether.

Christus am Ölberge was striking in Nagano's expressive and particular performance. Off the shelf now and ready for prime time in the repertory.

The Pacific Mozart Ensemble, prepared by Grant but conducted by Nagano, did a remarkable job on the Ligeti Lux Aeterna. It's a 16-voice piece composed in micro-polyphony, which simply means that you cannot hear what is going on with the voices. They impinge on each other so closely that one warps out of another and the texture fans out and then back, creating clouds of “sound color.” The singers fastened on their parts intently, skillfully producing the effects that vary, from shimmering to dark and murmuring, morphing from texture to texture. The larger impact is indeed haunting, ending on seven measures of silence that Nagano dutifully conducted as the impression sank in.

Messiaen's L'Ascension (“méditations symphoniques”) is primarily a color composition, each of its four movements illuminating a sacred title. Majesté du Christ . . . is a brilliant canzona for brass and horns. Alleluias sereins . . . a calm pastorale featuring the woodwinds, recalling Delius' bucolic soundscapes. Alléluias sur la trompette . . . is a rhapsody, post-Ravel in character, harmony and orchestration, Daphnis et Chloe . The final Prière du Christ montant vers son Père delivers the promised climax of opulent sonorities, piling up of instrumental choirs, in supersaturated harmonies. Sensuousness is the appeal, creating a rush that might represent or suggest spiritual elevation.

What is unclear about Messiaen is his insistence that rhythm is primary in his music when that is its weakest element. In this work, there isn't counterpoint that would generate the energies and patterns, small and large, that produce rhythmic structure. One other thing: he draws on Wagner very clearly, in his technique of building large structures towards climaxes by bringing the instruments steadily, over long stretches, into their higher registers. This piece is nearly 70 years old, brilliant in sonority but surely not modern, even dated.

The carefully planned succession of spiritual effects in the first half — Ligeti, Ustvolskaya and Messiaen — was compromised mightily by the clumsy setting-up of the orchestra for the Messiaen and the orchestra's rackety entrance, loud tuning and the like. Too bad that no one considers the effects of such activity on the audience, its musical experience and the mood that the sequence of works was expected to create.

The program of sacred works was most fittingly dedicated to the memory of the Berkeley Symphony's president, Peter Henschel, who died of a heart attack at the age of 53 on August 31. The program, though planned perhaps six or nine months before, was exactly what Mr. Henschel, in whose life choral singing played a major part, loved. It was as if he had a hand in it.