San Francisco Classical Voice

Linda Ghidossi-Luca

Joseph Edelberg

Imagine a symphony program that begins and ends with two virtuosic sets of variations. In between them come two concerti, each for two string soloists, and between them covering all four members of the string family. One of the concerti even explicitly quotes the other. One of the variation sets, like this concerto, takes as its starting-point a much earlier work. It is a concert almost too tightly designed to be believable, but the Santa Rosa Symphony, under Jeffrey Kahane, presented it Sunday.

Kahane, it is true, rather undermined the gracefulness of the design by calling everyone's attention to it before the concert began. But his pride in the achievement was understandable, all the more so in that two of the four composers were actually present in the hall.

The opener, "Laconic Variations," was written by the Santa Rosa Symphony's resident composer, Kenneth Frazelle. Kahane himself commissioned it as music director of the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra, and the title punningly incorporates that orchestra's acronym, while also implying (accurately) that the piece is brief and economically constructed. Its working material is the theme of the variation finale of Beethoven's "Eroica" Symphony.

Frazelle's variation technique is interesting. The Beethoven is famous for beginning with nothing but the bare bassline of the tune, running through several variations on it before introducing the "theme" itself. Frazelle goes him one better by using both tune and bassline as sources for motivic material from the very beginning, but delaying anything like a complete statement of either until near the end. The variations themselves are not, for the most part, clearly separated from one another; one transforms into the next, with only a handful of full stops.

The idiom of the piece is instantly recognizable as "American," in part because all the fifths in Beethoven's bassline quickly pile up into Coplandesque harmonies. The rhythmic language--incisive, busy, and mildly syncopated--also recalls Copland. A slow interlude later in the work (featuring many eloquent string solos) is, in contrast, rather like Barber at his sweetest. These comparisons are perhaps unfair, since they suggest that the piece is more derivative than it really is, but they give some idea of its flavor.

The orchestra's performance was spirited but not always immaculate, an impression that carried over to the concluding work, Ginastera's 1953 "Variaciones concertantes." This is much more overtly a "concerto for orchestra," showcasing soloists one by one (or sometimes two by two) and rounding everyone up at the end in a virtuosic final dance. Cunningly orchestrated like most of Ginastera's music, it is among his more overtly "Argentine" pieces. The opening and closing harmonies of the theme are derived from the open strings of the guitar, the finale based on a traditional Argentinean dance. Among the highlights of the Santa Rosa performance were a beautifully shaped "Variazione pastorale" from hornist Joshua Garrett, and three sharply contrasted solos from string principals Wanda Warkentin (cello), Linda Ghidossi-DeLuca (viola), and Joseph Edelberg (violin).

Edelberg and Ghidossi-DeLuca were the soloists in Mozart's violin/viola Sinfonia Concertante, which closed the first half. Both are among the finest string players in the Bay Area, and hearing them together was a treat. Each has a memorable sound, hers full and mellow, his silvery and sweet. Edelberg's playing style (more imaginatively inflected and demonstrative than Ghidossi's), as well as his brighter instrument, contributed to a slight but perceptible imbalance between the soloists. It was the central slow movement that came off best, with glorious legato playing from both. The cadenzas, too, were wonderful, immaculately played and full of understanding of the subtle interchange between the parts.

Elsewhere, though, there was often something straitened and muted about the performance. It is not that no one was having fun-the close exchanges between violin and viola in the developments of both outer movements were a delight. But the dynamic range seemed constricted, and sometimes the expressive range with it. The strings were reduced in numbers, but even so they were often not allowed to play out in the tuttis--most obviously in the slow movement. At the same time, there was little really quiet playing. One had the sense that the soloists could not use the lower end of the dynamic spectrum, simply because they would not have been heard.

The other double concerto, for cello and bass, was written by Edgar Meyer, a virtuoso bassist probably best known for his collaboration with fiddler Mark O'Connor and cellist Yo-Yo Ma on a best-selling album titled "Appalachia Waltz." If his recent quintet for string quartet and bass hasn't yet established his composing credentials, this 1995 concerto should.

It bounces from classical to bluegrass or jazz idioms and back with insouciant ease. The first movement alternates rapidly between the orchestra and the soloists-always together, sometimes in rivalry, sometimes in seeming collaboration. Their striking ritornello, beginning and ending the movement, is a fanfare studded with blue notes. The second movement alternates tumultuous orchestral passages with duos of eerie stillness for the soloists. Except that the third of the four duos, unexpectedly, is quite different--a captivating rhythmic escapade for the cellist, accompanied by the bass pizzicato, and replete with the jazz bassist's repertoire of slides and slaps.

As for the third movement-well, it was something else. Kahane had remarked that it was "based on" the finale of the Mozart Sinfonia Concertante, "but with completely different music inside." What Meyer has done, in fact, is to duplicate the orchestration of the Mozart, bar by bar, with the cello taking the place of the violin and the bass of the viola. If the horns play for eight bars in the Mozart, Meyer gives them eight bars; if there are two bars of violin solo and two bars of viola in Mozart, Meyer writes two bars each for the cello and then the bass.

To the bulk of the audience, the finale-full of helter-skelter string figuration of every description-was clearly a delight. To this listener, who knew the original Mozart backwards and forwards, it was a hoot. Once or twice, when Meyer allowed himself to quote directly from Mozart, it was very difficult indeed to keep from laughing out loud. The Mozart ends with first viola and then violin arpeggiating up to a fearful height; Meyer's indescribable parodic version of the same in his concerto is musical humor on a level with Haydn's best.

The performance was worthy of the piece. Meyer's "just-folks" stage persona was a little too perfect to be believed; when this character in the yellow suspenders and the huge yellow tie reached into his back pocket to get a cake of rosin as the finale began, it was hard not to suspect that it was done for effect. But his playing was stunning. He uses a very small bass, one on which he can reach the highest positions while standing, but it projected with ease. His intonation was apparently infallible, his tone clear and secure.

Cecilia Tsan, Meyer's co-soloist, seemed at first to have a rather plain sound. But she played as steadily and as accurately as he; and eventually it became apparent that she was deliberately matching his tonal austerity (Meyer uses no vibrato). In their quietest passages together, the matching of timbres was uncanny; it was more like a pair of violas da gamba than anything else.

(Michelle Dulak is a violinist and violist who has written about music for "Strings," "Stagebill," "Early Music America" and The New York Times.)

©1998 Michelle Dulak, all rights reserved