San Francisco Classical Voice

Of course, Musica d'amore had nothing to do with painting, but Thow wrote in the program booklet this week that Bellini Sky realizes his appreciation for the harmony of Bellini's atmospherics as well as for the similarity between the vibrant coastal skies of Italy and of California. One could go a step further: Thow seems to have set this concerto with the same harmonious relation between figure and background that Bellini achieved in his great compositions. Like the solitary Virgin, or Jesus, or St. Francis before a sky mirroring mood and prayer, in Thow's new piece the English horn could be seen as a devotional figure at times, chanting a richly meandering obligato around the orchestral accompaniment.

In general, though, an obligato implies that someone, somewhere, has a straightforward melody. Not so in Bellini Sky: the orchestra is more of an atmosphere thick with texture, flitting with color from vibraphone and temple blocks to prominent glissandi in the strings, In the second movement the offstage oboe echoes the English horn as the rising sun echoes a prophet's spirits in a Bellini painting.

Despite the promising set-up, however, Bellini Sky has some major problems. This three-movement, 20 minute work lacks a truly worthwhile protagonist or theme. Sadly, the English horn part, while prominent, is not really very engaging to the ear, even with its overused and underwhelming alternate fingerings that provide mildly disturbing colorations and microtonal pitch adjustments.

Despite all of Julie Ann Giacobassi's consummate skill and focused, resonant tone, the solo part rambled like a loner muttering semi-coherently to anyone who might listen. Meanwhile, the orchestra repeated its pedestrian figures, creating ostinatos and vague ritornellos of various insistence, but never really rising beyond pure texture to become compelling rhythms and motifs. Clouds may have gathered and dissipated, but storms never erupted. In all, Bellini Sky was uneventful — the various sections passed with little effective variation, harmonically, rhythmically, or otherwise. This was neither homage to the sky nor to Luciano Berio, the dedicatee of the middle “Passacaglia” movement.

Celestial color was more easily heard when guest conductor David Robertson and the orchestra's brass opened the concert with Edvard Grieg's Funeral March in Memory of Richard Nordraak. The brass band orchestration by Geoffrey Emerson showed the musicians to be at the top of their considerable powers, creating a glowing, clarion tone topped by frothy, nimble and light trumpets. The performance was aptly dignified, and never heavy or clotted. Brass band music, more typical in Britain, is rarely accorded the silvered gleam of American-style brass, and as such the performance was a particular treat.

Robertson's leadership also brought a colorful shine to Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 6. Stephen Paulson's opening bassoon solo was as richly expressive as possible, yet for a few minutes the performance was a slight disappointment, the string articulation lacking requisite crispness. But in the first great peroration, a remarkable clarity and balance took hold and maintained itself through to the end. While the brass erupted with a fury one could still hear in superb balance the rush and force of high winds and strings underneath. Similarly, the recapitulation of the rapt clarinet solo in the first movement — played with glowing tones by Associate Principal Luis Baez — threaded delicately amidst a warm undercurrent of accompanying sonorities.

Robertson led a smartly steady 5/4 waltz and a no-nonsense march, with nary a pause at the “false climax” where so many conductors love to stretch. If anything, his steady direction nearly verged on stiffness. Melodies blossomed but did not breathe very freely. The performance did maintain a remarkable continuity, however, all the way to the end of the smoldering fourth movement lament in which the strings darkened and brooded beautifully. In fact, from the Grieg dirge to the funereal brass choir concluding the Tchaikovsky, the concert went full circle through a remarkable palette as harmonious and balanced as anything Bellini would have conceived. It's too bad the concerto itself was rather gray.