Mantovani (b.1974) is French by birth, despite his Italian-looking name. His Jazz Connotation, a substantial and enjoyable work, blends a few jazz elements into what is essentially a modern toccata. Most of the time it races about the keys — it is largely based on cluster effects similar to Ligeti’s, but with the occasional quasitonal jazz chord or jazz-rhythmic gesture. The piece had a fresh verve that I found extremely pleasurable, and it was one of the finest compositions of the evening — not least because of Gottlieb’s eye-popping performance of it.

Strasnoy (b.1970), from Buenos Aires, has largely been a vocal composer, and his career has included successful operas stages in multiple houses around Europe and South America. His three Latin Exercises were easily the most charming compositions of the evening. Written for Gottlieb, Strasnoy took three standard dance forms from Latin cultures — Cha-cha-cha, Tango, and Tarantella — and dressed them up in modern harmony and cubist rhythmic alterations. In a sense, he was looking over his shoulder at Stravinsky’s off-kilter use of ragtime, waltzes, and tangos. What was heard was both serious and enormously fun to hear.

Ohana (1913-92) was born in Morocco to Spanish parents. In 1932, he studied architecture, but soon switched to piano, before turning to composition five years later. In the early 1980s he published two book of etudes, from which Free Counterpoint belongs. (It’s dedicated to Gottlieb.) The piece struck me as extremely individual in its approach, especially in its highly complex use of soft-core atonality. This was short and yet still impressive.

The pixie piece by Donatoni (b.1927) originated from a casual accident. Françoise Peri, the wife of a Roman film critic, asked for a page of manuscript to frame. Donatoni more or less dashed off what amounted to a bagatelle. That sort of thing is traditional — Beethoven and Wagner did it, and Debussy tossed off a short, newly discovered piece as a thank you to his coal man. Later, over the years, Donatoni wrote variations on his Françoise piece when he had spare time. What Gottlieb played were some of those witty outgrowths, all of which feature rhythmic displacement, as well as occasional jazz references that don’t lack some sarcasm. I liked them a lot, and found myself wishing for more.

So far, so good. But then there was the rest. Danish composer Poul Ruders (b.1949) has become a major force in current European circles, and he had especially fine success with his first opera. But Event Horizon, a phrase coined by physicist Steven Hawking, raced around the keyboard in chromatic dashes that seemed to stumble over themselves. In spite of all the sound and fury, my final impression was simply: So what? There was little or no sense of direction — the Max Reger problem.

The Finnish Lindberg (b.1968) and the Japanese Tanaka (b.1961) didn't seem to make a serious effort. Each have lots of accomplishments in their backgrounds, but neither Lindberg’s leanings on Debussy and his weak hints of jazz, nor Tanaka’s bland organism created much show of inventiveness. It was just the same thing again, with ideas that were better expressed 50 years ago.

I have heard little of Count Scelsi’s music, but always greatly admired it when I have. (Yes, he was an aristocrat — 1905-88.) He became one of the leaders of the Italian avant-garde, and he wrote charming music as well as daring pieces, while also venturing into new concepts of serialism. He was also the original “I want to be alone” composer — too shy to have his photo taken, much less appear in public or give out biographical information. His four short tone poems about the Indian god Vishnu were disappointing. They sounded like something akin to a bad-hair day. This was the biggest surprise of the evening.

The sole ensemble piece, Francesconi’s Encore/Da capo, was played twice, as prelude and epilogue to the concert. The 15-minute piece is scored for flute, clarinet, bass clarinet, vibraphone, marimba, glockenspiel, acoustic piano, Fender Rhodes piano (I have no idea what that is), violin, viola, and cello. Beautifully orchestrated, it largely consists of whirring globs of sound, similar to Ligeti’s music from the 1960s. Francesconi includes a major workout for the percussionist. The playing in this performance, by Christopher Froh, was uniformly expert and gloriously balanced, yet the whole of the piece didn’t seem to add much to what was standard material from 40 or 45 years ago. For a program that was already nearly two hours long, the repetition struck me as unnecessary.

It all goes to prove that any composer can have an off day, no matter how experienced they are. I know of no composer who was always at his best, unless like Berg, his output was small.

(Heuwell Tircuit is a composer, performer, and writer who was chief writer for Gramophone Japan and for 21 years a music reviewer for the San Francisco Chronicle. He wrote previously for Chicago's American and the Asahi Evening News.)

©2006 Heuwell Tircuit, all rights reserved