San Francisco Classical Voice

In spite of initial hints, Henry Mollicone's twelve-minute Dansa Trimbula, composed in 1995 for the San Jose Chamber Orchestra, is no Argentine tango. This concert work for saxophone (alternating the alto and soprano instruments), accordion, piano, percussion and strings lets you know there's a debt to be paid. It may be owed to the devil, as ancient legends often recount through music. Or to a Mafioso don as implied by Sicilian turns of phrase and menacing chromatic intimations. Even the tango rhythm gets surreal, not unlike Ravel's La valse. But as wild and original as Astor Piazzolla — Mollicone's putative inspiration for this piece — gets, Trimbula blazes a new and even more disturbing trail.

While it would be easy to excuse the work's idiosyncrasies, attributing them to Mollicone's local history (he lives in Saratoga and has had works premiered throughout the San Francisco Bay Area, not least by the Santa Cruz Symphony itself) and its dedicatee, Santa Cruz's resident saxophone guru William Trimble, the piece itself deserves universal attention. We live in a brave world of new music, and Mollicone has now emerged — especially in this piece — as a legitimate if unexpected pioneer.

During his career, Piazzolla (1921-1992) took a closer look at the Argentine national dance and turned up a treasury of unexpected gems. In Trimbula, Mollicone diffracted it through his own cultural lenses with ironic and mysterious results, not least exploiting Trimble's virtuoso vocabulary. In this reading, master accordionist Anthony Quartuccio — whom Mollicone also had in mind when writing the piece — spoke Argentine tango with a Neapolitan accent (adding unsightly and amusing bellow-shake tremolos during the saxophone/accordion cadenza.) Pianist Stephen Tosh took delight in the many musical quotes and allusions of pre-existing works, and Larry Granger had his hands full with tricky rhythms and mood changes.

The Sunday afternoon audience gained the advantage of the Symphony's best venue and the added polish afforded by a performance of this program the night before. The overall result represented the orchestra's best through the overture to Mozart's Abduction from the Seraglio, Ibert's Concertino da Camera for saxophone, and Beethoven's Symphony No. 7 in A. Granger, who prefers to conduct from memory, plainly had an interpretation in mind for the Beethoven. In this case, the first movement was shaped according to its long phrases rather than strong contrasts as some 18th century “specialists” have gained fame doing. The second movement, allegretto, was well paced and skillfully detailed in its textures and dialogues between the strings and winds. The attentive listener was paid off handsomely. The energy level picked up startlingly in the quick-stepping presto and caught fire fully in the vividly bursting finale. This was a performance conceived across the entire span of the piece and built to excellent effect.

The Mozart wanted only more presence from its metal percussion (triangle and cymbals.) Though the French Ibert echoes American jazz, that inflection is painted more in pastels than other hybrid examples (like Milhaud's Creation du monde and Ravel's Piano Concerto in G.) As such, Trimble played a seductive and sensuous performance, sweet in the slow movement and otherwise engaging, but barely suggesting the level of virtuosity demanded by the ensuing Mollicone.