San Francisco Classical Voice

Robertson had everything under control — the orchestra, the huge (children-supplemented) chorus, some exceptional soloists — but most of all he had 2,000 in the audience eating out of his hand. He was funny (even with the earthquake jokes), informative, convincing in his dedication to the music (while acknowledging that some may take a dim view of "beer commercials in the concert hall"), managed to bring Martin Heidegger into the discussion, and held out on the listeners when it came to the (many) moments of musical climax, promising them only for those who return from intermission. They all did, drawn by both the music and a presenter, who showed flashes of Leonard Bernstein, Michael Tilson Thomas, and Simon Rattle in chatting up the music. Always bright and knowledgable, Robertson used to be occasionally awkward as a speaker; he is now as far from that little handicap as one can get.

Against almost certain expectations of a great beginning, "O Fortuna" on the rebound was more loud than powerful, mostly in the orchestra — Vance George's Symphony Chorus was superb throughout, well conducted by Robertson. "Fortuna plango vulnera" (Lamenting the wounds that fortune deals) made up for the excesses of the very beginning. Quiet passages were especially memorable; "Floret silva" (The noble forest) hummed, the women's chorus clamoring for rouge to impress the young men of the town faded away into something touchingly lyrical. "Were diu werit alle min" (If the whole world were but mine) came across with unbridled Mahlerian-Wagnerian passion, the brass section going to town, woodwinds right along for the ride. By the closing reprise of "O Fortuna," the loudness became power, power that reigned, peaked, and, in the end, pulled the listener-participants out of their seats.

Besides the brilliant "entertainment portion" of the evening's first part and the big jazzy choral/orchestral performance, there were singers to discover and to treasure . . . instantly. Although these exceptional opera singers belong at the War Memorial, across Grove Street (where they have not yet appeared), two of them gave extraordinary performances, one in her SFS debut, the other in his first return since the Bach B minor Mass last year.

French soprano Patricia Petibon's career is developing almost exclusively in Europe, and that's this continent's loss. Powerful without being muscular, her voice is clear and clean and effortless, and her delivery is brilliant. I don't know if I ever heard a more heavenly "Dulcissime, total tibi subdo me" — the stratospheric notes coming right from the chest.

Christopher Maltman, young as he is, has already turned into an exceptional singing actor, transforming the oratorio into a series of operatic scenes. A lyric baritone with power, Maltman can pretty much do anything and everything. Tenor Richard Troxell was the swan a-roasting, his fine but not very powerful voice supplemented by simple and clever staging — flapping his wings in the first stanza, revolving slowly (sans spit) during the second, quite "dead" in the end.

The Robertson-Orff act will be difficult to follow, but subsequent "6.5" events are promising, indeed. On January 27, MTT and Petruschka; on February 24, Alan Gilbert, with Schumann and Strauss; on March 10, Martin Haselböck and Mozart's Coronation Mass; on May 12, Edwin Outwater presides over an event combining Debussy, Bizet, Adès, and HK Gruber's Frankenstein; and finally, on June 23, it's James Conlon, presenting Liszt's Dante Symphony.