The evening opened with two neglected Baroque works, John Blow's Sing Ye Muses and Baldassare Galuppie's Dixit Dominus. Each was sung by the full choir with instrumental accompaniment. Next was Fauré's Tantum ergo, the second of his Op. 65 set; and three of John Dowland's Renaissance lute songs: Come Again, Sweet Love; Flow Not So Fast, Ye Fountains, and What if I Never Speed? To close the first half, the chorus plus soloists and orchestra offered the final three sections of Giovanni Battista Pergolesi's groundbreaking Stabat Mater.

The second half opened with two modern American works: Eric Whitacre's Five Hebrew Love Songs (2001) and Mark Winges' Magic Strings (1992). Finnish composer Heikki Sarmanto's Hanget soi (1978) and the Chinese The Moon Mirrored in the Dual Spring by A Bing — also known as "Blind A Bing" — were rounded off by two well-known American folk songs, the haunting Ten Thousand Miles and the fiddle tune Cripple Creek.

Blow held most of the important musical posts in England, including head of music at Westminster Abbey and St. Paul's Cathedral. He was also the teacher of Henry Purcell. His demure and highly melodic contrapuntal piece is in the motet style, somewhere between that of William Byrd and Bach. Indeed, one can hear a hint of the Bach motets in Sing Ye Muses. Published in 1700, it was originally scored for four-part chorus, two violins, and continuo. McMane redistributed the vocal parts for her treble choir but did have violinists on period instruments, plus a continuo of cello, theorbo, and small organ — all handsomely sung and played. It's a pity that Blow's music is so little known today.

Much the same applies to Galuppi, a composer of more than 100 stage works (mostly comic operas) for posts he held in London, his native Venice, and in St. Petersburg under Catherine the Great. Like all Baroque composers, he turned out a considerable amount of church music as well. The three-part Dixit Dominus is in rather operatic style, scored for chorus with small string orchestra and organized similarly to the movements of a standard concerto, in a fast-slow-fast format. He is another important figure who is largely ignored today. (I admit to a certain prejudice in his favor, as we share the same birthday — although his came a few years earlier than mine.)

The richness of Fauré's church music is as deep as that of his secular inventions, beautiful in its simplicity and respect for the basics. He was the 19th century's great master of restraint, and his works demonstrate seemingly endless emotional sincerity. The same applies to my beloved John Dowland, who showed incredible range and was one of the greatest of English composers. His three songs were sung Friday by the smaller Virtuose subgroup, 14 vocalists with lute — but no conductor. The young singers' fine ensemble and perfect intonation without help from a conductor speaks as much for their excellent coaching as for their own intellectual prowess.

The full chorus returned, with string orchestra, for the Pergolesi. His death at age 26 robbed the world of a talent that was surely the equal of Mozart's. His Stabat Mater was much criticized at first as being too operatic, but, after all, his critics were men who built churches to look like opera houses, outside and in.

Whitacre set five short poems by his wife. They're lovely things — a little on the traditional side, which is fine by me. The success of the songs has prompted several on-demand arrangements. (The original was scored for his wife, a soprano, plus violin and piano.) Friday's version was for four-part chorus and strings — although in "Lárov," a kind of rondo, one singer played a tambourine in the Allegro section.

Winges' Magic Strings is subtitled "A shamaness exorcizes baleful creatures" and takes its text from a medieval Chinese poem. Winges delved into the sonic worlds of John Cage and Henry Cowell for the piano accompaniment, making use of a prepared piano whose interior was laced with an assortment of objects. Much of the piano part was played inside the body of the instrument, with fingers on the piano wires. When the pianist played the actual keyboard, the instrument made assorted percussion noises. The whole of this dramatic piece proved a major hit with the audience, and with me.

Sarmanto, whose night job is playing jazz piano, took a serious view of Eino Leno's poem about snow. Set with lush harmonies, the piece is purely tonal with a hint of folksy lyricism, and it struck me as mildly Hungarian in sound. (Kodály's shadow stood in the background — if well back.) Far more interesting was the Chinese piece, a traditional and fairly well-known work, arranged for chorus and classic Chinese instruments by Li Jinsheng. We were treated to superb virtuoso performances by Jie Ma on the pipa (a Chinese lute) and Su-Chen Liu on erhu (a Chinese violin) in the accompaniment. As a special surprise, Jie Ma also gave us a flashy solo performance on her instrument, although the title of the piece was not mentioned.

Finally, there was the melancholia of Ten Thousand Miles and a rowdy performance of Cripple Creek, complete with foot stomping, hand claps, and a few episodes of dance. All this was accompanied by piano and country fiddling, albeit of a restrained sort. Both pieces had been lovingly and inventively arranged by composer Thomas Porter. Like the rest of the program, they were flawlessly performed.

(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