San Francisco Classical Voice

There was one ironic incident along the way, during Sunken Cathedral. According to a sixth century Brittany legend, God supposedly sank a cathedral into the sea as punishment for the impious population. As a reminder and a warning, the cathedral sometimes rose from the sea, bells tolling.

Zivian was just reaching the climactic rise of the church, its deep bells sounding, as a large vessel passed outside the ferry. The Santa Rosa rocked gently with the ripples of waves, and as the stern gently rose and settled, the horizon of the Bay appeared to be oscillating. With Debussy's bells in full clangor, I nearly got the impression that we might be about to witness a church emerge from the waters, a real musical feat.

On the other hand, I found his performance of the Ravel waltz medley diminished by exaggerated mannerisms. After all, those eight waltzes are no mere oom-pah-pah set. They bristle with rhythmic complexity and displaced accents that can't survive much stretching or dashing. In a way, they are semi-Cubist portraits of old waltz styles, with a slight hint of raucous Chabrier thrown in for good measure. Even then, the music had more dissonant chords than normal for Ravel. Arthur Rubinstein once mentioned that when he played the Spanish premiere, Ravel's piece was soundly booed and hissed: “They thought me mad for programming such avant-garde music," he said. "So I simply sat down and played them again.” Zivian played them only once, and his emotive manner obviously pleased the audience, but I felt a tad frustrated by what I'd heard.

Ravel's only trio contains most of the finest components of his work: brilliant voicing of instruments, rich coloration from his burnished chords, and balanced forms. The weakness of the piece is that the final movement lacks the melodic imprint and polish of the first three. Yes, that finale is full of spit and vinegar, with fingers flying all over the instruments in predominantly loud textures. That gets any audience out of their seats for certain, but it's a cheap trick. Simply put, the opening three movements are far more interesting and intelligently balanced.

I've always suspected that the trio was begun in peacetime, during 1913, and was completed as the terrors of World War I neared Paris, in 1915. Ravel was too small to serve as a soldier, but, upon his insistence, he was accepted as an ambulance driver. Hauling wounded and battlefield dead, and enduring the deaths of several of his friends, was deeply depressing to Ravel. Perhaps that accounts for the sonic violence and lack of compositional focus in his finale.

Saturday's performance was superb in all respects, aided by the surprisingly good acoustics of the Santa Rosa's dining room. Cellist Tomkins deserved a special salvo of applause for her virtuoso savviness. At the end, the audience stood and cheered, expecting an encore, but none was forthcoming. Too bad. The Ravel had been so carefully prepared that a repeat of one of the two inner movements — that super scherzo — would not have been out of order.

On a sad note, FerryMusic is homeless as of Saturday. Its series aboard the Santa Rosa has ended. The hope is to find another vessel for presenting young talent next season, preferably one that might allow a cruise of the Bay during the performances. For now, it's largely a matter of funding.