Bravo! Vail Episode 4: These moments

[Being the fourth and last in a series of dispatches from the 2023 Bravo! Vail Music Festival, attended by yours truly as part of a delegation from the Music Critics Association of North America (MCANA)]

For the MCANA collective the final day at Bravo! Vail (Friday July 14th) began at 12:30 pm with a session with composer Anna Clyne, whose “This Moment” had its world premiere that night by the Philadelphia Orchestra conducted by Yannick Nézet-Séguin. Unofficial activities started much earlier as the early risers in our group (i.e., not me) decided to take the scenic gondola ride to the top of Vail Mountain. At a little over 10,000 ft. (a good 2K above Vail) both the air and the views are rarefied and well worth the ticket price, as I would discover later in the day. One of our number actually walked up (there are multiple hiking trails for the more adventurous), but then he’s considerably younger than the rest of us.

Anna Clyne and Anne-Marie McDermott
Photo courtesy Bravo! Vail

In any case, we were all present and accounted for as we met with our official Vail PR contact (the priceless Managing Director of 8VA Music Consultancy Patricia Price, about whom I simply cannot say enough good things) for a brief but informative chat with Clyne.

Allow me to digress for a moment and state that I have been an admirer of Clyne’s music since 2012, when I first heard her “Within Her Arms” performed by David Robertson and the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra with choreography by the Hubbard Street Dance Theatre of Chicago. At the time I described it as “somewhat mysterious music, which at times seemed to harken back to Vaughn Williams or even Thomas Tallis.”

It was only later, as the SLSO began to perform Clyne’s music more frequently under current Music Director Stéphane Denève, that I realized what I was actually hearing was what Clyne described in our session as “layering,” a technique that involves combining instruments with contrasting timbres to achieve new and unusual sounds. “You might have an oboe playing a melody, but I’ll double that with both vibraphone and low clarinet,” she offered as an example. She’s in good company: Ravel (among others) was known to do the same thing (several times in “Bolero,” to pick an obvious example), although mostly as a “special effect” rather than a core compositional approach.

She put that to good use in “This Moment,” which was composed with its status as a “curtain raiser” for the evening’s performance of Mozart’s Requiem in mind. The title was inspired by a quote from the late Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh, who died last year at the age of 95: “This moment is full of wonder” (a sentiment which takes on more meaning the older I become). There are also quotes from the “Requiem: one from the “Kyrie eleison” and one from the “Lacrimosa.”

View from Vail Mountain
Photo by Chuck Lavazzi

That last one is especially poignant, since it was while dictating this movement to his pupil Franz Xaver Süssmayr that Mozart breathed his last. “And his life ended,” writes Jane Glover in “Mozart’s Women,” on an unresolved dominant chord.” Or, as Clyne said (paraphrasing Thich Nhat Hanh), “Yesterday’s tears are tomorrow’s rain”.

The conversation then went on to other topics such as working with Nézet-Séguin (“He really understands the spirit of my music”), the ways in which earlier generations of women composers and conductors have paved the way for Clyne and others (she cited Marin Alsop as a mentor; both have a strong Chicago connection), and upcoming projects with The Augmented Orchestra and the New York-based boundary-smashing ensemble The Knights.

Her final takeaway for those attending the evening’s concert? Approach new music with an open mind.

Which I did, but first it was time to play a bit of hooky and spend the rest of the afternoon hiking on Vail Mountain with my more outdoorsy wife, Sherry. She had gone up in the gondola the day before, spent a couple of hours climbing about, and came back enthusing about the gondola ride. Since this was our last day in town, I decided it was time to do something touristy, so up we went. At the top we grabbed a couple of hiking sticks courtesy of the Gondola One folks and spent the next hour or so accumulating “zone minutes” on our Fitbits.

I wore the wrong shoes, the wrong clothes, and brought a tote bag for our water bottles instead of the travel backpack I had packed specifically for excursions like this one, but it was worth it for the view.

L-R: Rosa Feloa, Jennifer Johnson Cano,
Issachah Savage, Kyle Ketelsen
Photo courtesy Bravo! Vail

A change of wardrobe, a light dinner, and it was off to the Ford Amphitheatre for our final concert: Clyne’s “This Moment” and Mozart’s Requiem  K. 626. True to her description of the work earlier that day, “This Moment” was the ideal opener for the Mozart. The quotes from the Requiem, while unmistakable, were also clearly delivered in Clyne’s own unique language. There was lamentation and conflict in the music but also, in the final analysis, a comforting sense of peace. “This Moment” is, indeed, “full of wonders.”

Then it was time for the Requiem itself.  It’s usually heard in Süssmayr’s completion—a choice which has not been without its critics over the years, including me. At least two other completions were done in the early 19th century and several musicologists have produced their own over the last four or five decades.

Nézet-Séguin opted for a 1971 edition by German violinist and musicologist Franz Beyer (1922–2018). Beyer used Süssmayr as a point of departure but cleaned up some of what Julliard’s Robert Levin called Süssmayr’s “infelicities” in the orchestration. “Franz Beyer took the Requiem to the dry cleaners and took the spots out,” said Levin. “He made it more transparent and simplified it.”

It had been a little over a year since I had seen a performance of the Mozart Requiem and that was in the more resonant environment of Powell Hall in St. Louis. The covered portion of the Ford has a markedly dryer sound, which makes instrumental details that much easier to hear, but it seemed to me that Beyer did, indeed, clarify the sound and, in his words, “color it with the hues of Mozart’s own palette.” The trombone solo in “Tuba mirum,” for example, was as clear as I have ever heard it.

How much of that was the work of Beyer vs. Nézet-Séguin, the Philadelphians, and the Colorado Symphony Orchestra Chorus, I can’t say, but this performance of the Requiem was certainly a stunner as far as I was concerned. It was dramatic, emotionally powerful, and just all-around compelling.

Choral director Duain Wolfe, Yannick
Nézet-Séguin, Philadelphia Orhcestra
and Colorado Symphony Orchestra Chorus 
Photo courtesy Bravo! Vail

For an amateur chorus, the CSO singers acquitted themselves extraordinarily well, even if they were (as a fellow critic pointed out) a bit shy in the tenor department. It helped that they were placed at the back of the orchestra on unusually high risers (the feet of the singers in the back row were literally above the heads of the those in the first) which enabled them to project with force and clarity. Vocal lines were impressively clear, even in fugal sections like the “Kyrie.”

The solo quartet consisted of soprano Rosa Feloa, mezzo Jennifer Johnson Cano (who sang the Requiem in St. Louis last year), tenor Issachah Savage, and bass-baritone Kyle Ketelsen. They were placed on risers downstage right, just behind the violins, which provided useful sonic separation from both the chorus and the orchestra. All four singers were impressive vocally, with Cano and Ketelsen showing the most dramatic engagement with the text.

The band, of course, played with the consummate skill that I had come to expect from them over the last few days. For his part, Nézet-Séguin’s substantial operatic experience was apparent in his ability to draw out the human drama in Mozart’s music without compromising the religious sincerity behind it.

And so the musical side of our visit to Vail came to an end. Most of our group retired to the patio at La Cucina, one of the two restaurants at our hotel (the exceptionally comfortable Lodge at Vail), for snacks, drinks, post-concert discussions, and friendly farewells. Some of us knew each other from previous MCANA events while some of us were meeting for the first time. We all got to know each other better during the week and were all better for having done so.     

“The soil of our mind,” wrote Thich Nhat Hanh,  “contains many seeds, positive and negative. We are the gardeners who identify, water, and cultivate the best seeds.” Four days of Bravo! Vail left us with a packet of Music and Friendship seeds. They’re always the best.

This article originally appeared at 88.1 KDHX, where Chuck Lavazzi is the senior performing arts critic.

Bravo! Vail Episode 3: Life, death, and bobbleheads

[Being the third in a series of dispatches from the 2023 Bravo! Vail Music Festival, attended by yours truly as part of a delegation from the Music Critics Association of North America (MCANA)]

For most of my fellow music critics, Thursday July 13th began around 9:30 am watching Yannick Nézet-Séguin, the Philadelphia Orchestra, and piano soloist Bruce Liu in their first and only rehearsal of Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in C minor, Op. 18, which was performed that evening. I don’t arise that early, though, so I didn’t manage to join the group until the 12:30 meet and greet with Nézet-Séguin.

Yannick Nézet-Séguin, his bobblehead, and
the MCANA crowd

We didn’t have much time with him, but what we had was lively and informative. Offstage Nézet-Séguin radiated the same kind of enthusiasm and charm he dispenses on stage, happily answering questions from our group and posing for a selfie. He also told an amusing anecdote about the festival’s first foray into opera, Puccini’s political drama “Tosca.” “The audiences were so new to the opera,” he recalled, “that when Scarpia [one of opera’s more repellent villains] came to take a bow nobody applauded and they all booed. But they all loved it, and that’s our mission—building audiences everywhere.”

He also noted that “you’re getting the best of the weather here. It can be very unpredictable but this week it’s predictably beautiful.”

Each of us also got an official Yannick Nézet-Séguin bobblehead (complete with a tiny version of his characteristic red-tipped baton). Mine currently resides next to my only other bobblehead, Harry Houdini. “The head is OK,” quipped Nézet-Séguin, whose podium style is very physically active, “but the body doesn’t move enough.”

All of this did, however, make us late for our next event, a free Community Concert at the Vail Interfaith Chapel by the Viano String Quartet (violinists Lucy Wang and Hao Zhou, violist Aiden Kane, and cellist Tate Zawadiuk). As a result we missed all of the opening piece, Reena Esmail’s “Zeher” (“Poison”), along with over half of Bartók’s String Quartet No. 3 Sz. 85. What we did hear was pretty impressive, though.

Happily, we did get to enjoy all of Smetana’s String Quartet No. 1 in E minor (“From My Life”). Violist Kane jokingly referred to it as “Smetana’s Viola Concerto” because of the prominent part for her instrument, but the music itself is serious stuff.

The Viano Quartet
Photo courtesy of Bravo! Vail

Smetana wrote his first and only string quartet near the end of his life as his hearing and health were failing. It’s overtly programmatic, tracing the composer’s life from his initial delight in his art (first movement), his love of his native Bohemia’s folk music and dances (second movement), his happy marriage to his first wife, Kateřina (third movement), and in the last movement, his tinnitus (graphically illustrated by a sustained E in the violin), subsequent hearing loss, and the decline in his health.

That’s a lot of emotional territory to cover, and the Viano Quartet covered it thoroughly, displaying a strong connection with the work’s wide emotional range.

The concert concluded with an arrangement of “In Other Words” (the 1954 jazz standard better known these days as “Fly Me to the Moon”) by violinist Zhou. A lively mix of mainstream jazz with just a touch of vintage Quintette du Hot Club de France and a slick cello solo, it was the perfect contrast to the tragedy of the Smetana quartet.

Thursday evening found us back at the Ford Amphitheater for a mostly Rachmaninoff evening. I say “mostly” because the concert opened with the brief (six minutes) “Fanfare Ritmico” written at the turn of the millennium by American composer Jennifer Higdon (b. 1962). Quoted in the program, the composer says that the piece “celebrates the rhythm and speed (tempo) of life…This fanfare celebrates that rhythmic motion of man and machine, and the energy that permeates every moment of our being.”

Energy the fanfare has aplenty, to be sure. Scored for orchestra and a massive percussion battery (four percussionists playing 26 instruments plus tympani), it sometimes felt less like a work for percussion and orchestra and one for percussion vs. orchestra. It essentially consists of a five-note motif that dashes around the stage at breakneck pace, sometimes in massive sonic blasts, sometimes in delicate moments for a handful of instruments.

Higdon’s orchestration is inventive and the performance by the Philadelphians was quite the feat of virtuosity. You couldn’t call it great music, but it was fun while it lasted.

Up next was a work that has become a favorite of mine over the years, Rachmaninoff's "Symphonic Dances." I have found it oddly compelling since I first heard it during my undergraduate days on a 1961 LP recording by the Philadelphia Orchestra under Eugene Ormandy, who conducted the work's first performance in 1941. I was immediately struck by the "late night" feel of the piece—and not just because of the chimes in the last movement. It was only later that I learned that Rachmaninoff had, in fact, originally titled the three sections "Noon," "Twilight," and "Midnight." The composer dropped the titles, preferring to let the music speak for itself, and it does so eloquently.

The work is filled with evidence of Rachmaninoff's genius as an orchestrator, with elaborate and complex string writing, inventive use of brasses and winds (including a short but poignant solo for alto sax), and an effective but never overwhelming use of the large percussion battery. The final movement is a struggle between the “Dies Irae” and the “Resurrection” theme from Rachmaninoff’s 1915 “All-night Vigil,” which while emphatically resolved in favor of the latter, still seems to carry the sense of a life approaching its conclusion.

Nézet-Séguin’s approach leaned heavily on the melancholy and emotional extremes of the music, with strong contrasts in dynamics and tempi and, of course, lots of rubato. This was particularly effective in the second dance, Andante con moto (Tempo di valse), which swelled and swooned as it built slowly to a forceful restatement of the main theme and an energetic coda. Orchestral details were very clear throughout, allowing us to hear more of that exceptional skill the band displayed in Higdon’s “Fanfare.”

André Watts in 1971
Photo: James Kriegsmann, New York
Public Domain, 

The Lento assai sections of the final dance were unusually slow, creating a strong sense of yearning—perhaps for the life that was departing, perhaps for the one that the deeply religious composer no doubt felt was to come. It added to the impact of the final moments in any case.

This was not a “Symphonic Dances” reading that was much to my taste, but it must be acknowledged that Nézet-Séguin made a persuasive case for it. And the audience loved it.

In program notes for a 2019 performance, St. Louis Symphony Orchestra Music Director Stéphane Denève described the “Symphonic Dances” as “redeeming—it's a piece of hope. The ending is an Alleluia, a triumph over death. It was his last work, and maybe, because he composed this piece, he felt he could die." That was the feeling I got from this performance.

After intermission, Rachmaninoff’s wildly popular Piano Concerto No. 2 in C minor Op. 18, concluded the concert. But first, “Old Mortality” was back among us again.

“One shining light has gone now into the sky; a new star is coming.” That’s how Nézet-Séguin introduced piano soloist Bruce Liu to the audience. The light in question was that of legendary pianist André Watts, who had died the previous day at the age of 77.

Those of us d'un certain âge (sounds more classy than “old”) remember Watts well. As someone who was born only two years later than him, I remember him as being around my entire life—because he was. When he made his famous debut playing the Liszt Piano Concerto No. 1 with Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic, he was only 16 and I, at age 14, was just beginning to seriously love “classical” music. Watts went on to become a star and I went on to become, eventually, a music critic. And so it goes.

Although much younger than either of us, Nézet-Séguin also remembers Watts well because when the conductor made his Philadelphia Orchestra debut in 2008, he was accompanying Watts in, of all things, the Rachmaninoff Second. “The coincidence is almost overwhelming emotionally,” he recalled. “So, this resonates very personally and as you can understand, in this entire concert and especially this performance, we all have André on our hearts.”

It's a beautiful sentiment. I wish I could say the performance of the concerto that followed was a fitting tribute to the late pianist, but honesty forbids me from doing so. From the famous seven-chord introduction, with its evocation of tolling bells, until nearly the end of the last movement, this was a performance that pushed the limits of the concept of “slow” and generally lacked energy.

Bruce Liu and Yannick Nézet-Séguin
Photo courtesy of Bravo! Vail

The opening of the first movement was so ponderous that there was little room for contrast with the more romantic second theme. Soloist Liu’s voicing brought out some inner details of the piano part that I hadn’t heard before, but otherwise it felt oddly passionless and affected.

The second movement (marked Adagio sostenuto) felt more Lento, if not downright Larghissimo, making it a serious test of the principal clarinet’s breath control in their long solo. On the positive side, Liu’s playing had a crystalline clarity. Still, this was easily the slowest I have ever heard this movement played, and the tempo sucked the life out of it.

The Allegro scherzando finale got off to a good start, but the entry of the familiar second theme (the basis for the 1945 Frank Sinatra hit “Full Moon and Empty Arms”) slowed it all to a crawl once again. Still, the final restatement of that theme at the end was tremendously effective.

My opinion aside, the performance was received with wild approval by the audience and led to an encore. Liu didn’t announce the title, but I think it was Rameau’s “Les tendres plaintes” (from the Suite in D Major in the Premier Livre de Pièces de Clavecin, in case you’re keeping score), which he recorded in 2022 for Deutsche Gramophon.

Next: Anna Clyne and Wolfgang Mozart, together again for the first time.

This article originally appeared at 88.1 KDHX, where Chuck Lavazzi is the senior performing arts critic.

Bravo! Vail Episode 2: Prokofiev in chiesa, Tchaikovsky and Price al fresco.

[Being the second in a series of dispatches from the 2023 Bravo! Vail Music Festival, attended by yours truly as part of a delegation from the Music Critics Association of North America (MCANA)]

“It’s all there in the score” was a phrase I heard twice at Bravo! Vail. And both times it was spot on.

The first time was from Bravo! Vail Artistic Director (and much-admired concert pianist) Anne-Marie McDermott in response to a question from the audience towards the end of her “deconstruction” of Prokofiev’s Piano Sonata No. 6 on Wednesday, July 12th. The question was, more or less, “how much of your performance is what’s in the music and how much is your own interpretation?”

Anne-Marie McDermott
Photo courtesy of Bravo! Vail

It's all in the score in much the same way an actor’s performance of, say, Hamlet or Willy Loman is in the script. What the performer brings out is, as we say in the theater, the “subtext.”

McDermott’s presentation was part of the festival’s “Inside the Music,” a regular series of performance lectures at the Vail Interfaith Chapel that take deep dives into classical works from a performer’s perspective. I’ve heard the Piano Sonata No. 6 many times, but McDermott’s one-hour lecture/performance offered insights that only a pianist who has immersed herself in the score could deliver. I’ll never hear it the same way again.

After the audience left, McDermott gave us MCANA members another deep dive, this time into the saga of Bravo! Vail, from its beginnings as a small jazz festival to its current status as an important venue for major orchestras like the New York Philharmonic, the Academy of St. Martin-in-the-Fields, and this week’s guest ensemble, the Philadelphia Orchestra with its Music Director Yannick Nézet-Séguin. It was a remarkable story and, as McDermott wryly observed, a major learning experience for her.

The second time I heard a version of that phrase was during a “meet and greet” for our MCANA group with Nézet-Séguin on Thursday. One of us (Gary Lemco, who writes for Audiophile Audition and hosts a weekly radio show at Stanford University station KZSU) asked him why he and soloist Hilary Hahn had opted for the uncut version of the final movement of Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto in D major Op. 35 the previous evening. “I felt that a lot of what she did was rooted in the score,” he replied. Don’t second-guess the composer, in short. I couldn’t agree more.

Hilary Hahn and Yannick Nézet-Séguin
Photo courtesy of Bravo! Vail

Which brings me, finally, to Wednesday’s performance of the Tchaikovsky concerto.  The first (and last) time I had seen Nézet-Séguin live was at a concert with the Rotterdam Philharmonic at the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées in Paris back in 2018. I remembered that the concert concluded with a passionate Tchaikovsky Symphony No. 4, but additional details had weathered away over the years. So I approached the evening as if not a tabula rasa, then at least as a quasi tabula rasa.

My state of mind notwithstanding, it was a pretty fascinating performance. Hahn and Nézet-Séguin were clearly in constant and friendly communication during the performance, and both were quite clearly enjoying themselves. That sort of thing always spreads to the audience and increases our engagement with the music.

And a good thing, since this was a highly personal performance. Hahn and Nézet-Séguin made free use of rubato, i.e., slight variations in tempo that, in this case, served mainly as a way to highlight transitions. Dynamic contrasts were sometimes extreme, which given the surprisingly high background noise in the outdoor Ford Amphitheater, sometimes meant that bits of the music were lost in the hum of traffic. This was most obvious to me in Hahn’s cadenza—a shame since it was so perfectly executed.

She was, in any case, a palpable hit with the audience, and the inevitable standing ovation was followed by an encore. Written for Hahn by classical saxophonist and composer Steven Banks, "Through My Mother's Eyes" is based on a lullaby the composer's mother sang to him. Banks dedicated it to Hahn's own children and if that suggests to you that it's a sweet little thing, you'd be right. It was a charming way to end the first half of the evening.

The Ford Amphitheater
Photo courtesy of Bravo! Vail

The second half of the program was taken up with the Symphony No. 3 in C minor by African American composer Florence Price (1887-1953), who is just now getting the kind of attention she deserves. Nézet-Séguin, who very much admires Price’s music, recorded Price’s Third along with her Symphony No. 1 in 2021 for Deutsche Gramophon, and that admiration was clearly on display at this performance. His deep involvement with the score was both audible and visual, since Nézet-Séguin is one of those conductors who favors a full-body approach to his art.

That said, Price’s approach to traditional structures like sonata form can be disconcertingly episodic, as can her cheerful mixture of traditional African American elements (including spirituals) with modernist dissonances, whole-tone passages, and even a somewhat ominous brass chorale that sounds like might have escaped from Siegfried’s funeral music in “Götterdämerung.”   It takes a bit of mental retooling on the part of the listener, but for me at least it's worth it. I now find myself returning to the work, both in Nézet-Séguin’s reading and in John Jeter’s somewhat different recording with the ORF Vienna Radio Symphony. Their contrasting approaches to the work can be highly illuminating.

Price also composed the encore that concluded the concert: "Adoration," a 1951 composition for organ which has become popular in a 2021 arrangement for solo violin and string orchestra by conductor Thomas Taylor Dickey. Like the Banks work, it's brief, romantic, and got an appropriately loving treatment by PO Associate Concertmaster Christine Lim.

Next: Rhythm and snooze with Higdon and Rachmaninoff.

This article originally appeared at 88.1 KDHX, where Chuck Lavazzi is the senior performing arts critic.

Bravo! Vail Episode 1: Rocky mountain hydrate

[Being the first in a series of dispatches from the 2023 Bravo! Vail Music Festival.]

“Hydrate” was the word of the day as yours truly and a group of seven other members of the Music Critics Association of North America arrived in Vail, Colorado, on Tuesday July 11th for a week at the Bravo! Vail Music Festival.

Rocky mountain high
Photo: Jennifer Melick

It was the word of the day not because of Vail’s pleasantly low humidity (hovering around 20% during the day) but rather the fact that, at around 8,000 ft. above sea level, this popular resort town is high enough to cause altitude sickness for some of us flatlanders.

For most of us (including me) it’s pretty mild and one adjusts quickly. Personally I found myself breathing hard after a couple of flights of stairs for the first 24 hours.

For musicians, though, the adjustment can be a bit more tricky. Playing an instrument (regardless of the type) is, believe it or not, a form of aerobic activity, and a hydration break may be necessary now and then during a concert.

That’s what happened at our first concert of the week, a rouser of an evening of works by Haydn, Revueltas, Piazzola, von Weber, and Paquito D’Rivera by the Dalí Quartet and clarinetist Ricardo Morales . The break came right after a stunner of a performance of Haydn’s 1772 String Quartet in F minor, Op. 20 No. 5 but given the high level of physical involvement these performers (especially violinists Ari Isaacman-Beck and Carlos Rubio) have with their music, I’m surprised they didn’t need one more often.

Tuesday night the Dalí Quartet threw themselves into their program with reckless abandon, close communication, and a degree of sheer virtuosity that was a joy to behold. Whether it was von Weber’s bubbly Clarinet Quintet in B-flat major, Op. 34 or the fiery String Quartet No. 2, “Magueyes,” written in 1931 by the short-lived (1899 – 1940) Mexican composer/violinist Silvestre Revueltas, the Dalí Quartet radiated a sheer delight in music making that was, as the lyric goes, “simply irresistible.”

The Revueltas quartet was particularly striking. Dating from a time in the composer’s life when he was particularly interested in highlighting the urban soundscape and popular music of Mexico City, the work in characterized by rhythmic complexity along with frequent and abrupt transitions between atonal violence and haunting lyricism.  Subtitled Ocho por Radio ("Eight for Radio")—which as an Old Radio Guy, I rather appreciate—this is music that called for and got that mix of precision and passion I mentioned earlier.

It was followed by a bit of a palette cleanser in the form of Astor Piazzola’s “Tango Ballet,” written as the soundtrack for a 1956 film that has since disappeared. The seven movements were classic Piazzola, with seductive dance rhythms evoking a world of smoky bars, strong liquor, and sinuous dancers.

The Dalí Quartet and clarinetist Ricardo Morales
Photo courtesy of Bravo! Vail.

Perhaps the biggest hit of the evening was the von Weber quintet. It took the composer three years to complete it (1812 to 1815, but who’s counting?) and it was worth the wait. It’s likely you have heard it at some point either in concert on the radio—the “rippling rhythm” of the clarinet and cello interchange in the third movement Menuetto capriccio is a genuine ear worm—but if this was your first experience with it, I hope you loved as much as we did in the audience.

Soloist Morales (brother of Dalí cellist Jesús Morales and a member of the Philadelphia Orchestra) has a seamless, fluid tone throughout his register—a crucial skill for a work which pushes the clarinet to its limits. The standing ovation that followed this final work of the evening was spontaneous and heartfelt.

The concert closed with the spiky Latin jazz of Paquito D’Rivera’s brief but provocative “Preludio y Merengue.”

The Dalí Quartet champions Latin American music, as both first violinist Ari Isaacman-Beck and violist Adriana Linares noted during a brief post-concert talkback with Bravo Festival Artistic Director (and accomplished pianist) Anne-Marie McDermott. Isaacman-Beck added that the experience of mixing European classics with newer music from Latin America has made the newer works feel more familiar the familiar classical feel new.

They certainly did that last night with the von Weber and the Haydn, which took on added degrees of depth and passion without ever straying from the classic framework. The fact that the quartet dates from Haydn’s sturm und drang period helped, but even so this was a remarkable performance.

Next: Prokofiev in chiesa, Tchaikovsky and Price al fresco.