Syracuse Symphony, Brentano Quartet Give Contrasting Performances

It's not wise to make assumptions, especially when it comes to classical music. Big names and big halls do not guarantee memorable concerts.

Last weekend, the Syracuse Symphony Orchestra and guest conductor Andre Raphel Smith--in the accommodating Civic Center--and the Brentano Quartet--in the cramped, dated Lincoln Middle School Auditorium--gave two profoundly different performances.

Though technically accurate, the orchestra's playing was bland and lifeless. Inexplicably, this was most obvious in Copland's Ballet Music from Rodeo. This music is a lot of things, but reserved is not one of them. Yet the orchestra seemed to be going through the motions, completely devoid of energy. "Hoedown" is inherently thrilling, but the orchestra tried their hardest to blunt its affect with a moderate tempo and poorly defined rhythms.

The orchestra also played Barber's First Symphony and Poulenc's Gloria, both of which suffered a similar demise.

The Brentano Quartet, on the other hand, was spectacular, adapting their sound and style to the music's demands. And the demands were varied, ranging from dry, sparse Renaissance motets to lush, soul-searching Romanticism. They took the audience through an emotional journey, particularly in Beethoven's Quartet No. 12, Op. 127, one of his last compositions. It was at times muscular and angular and tender. But the Adagio was most memorable.

In his final works--the Ninth Symphony, the Missa Solemnis, the last three piano sonatas--Beethoven seems to have found a higher calling, elevating his music far beyond his already unparalleled achievements. The Adagio professes a breathtaking reverence and spirituality that could convert the most staunch atheist, even for a brief moment, into a believer. The Quartet's performance was almost indescribable. They hit all the right notes, played in tune, and phrased beautifully. But more importantly, they played with tonal richness and weight, and with a purpose and unanimity that can't be categorized by musical terminology.

Sometimes we get too preoccupied by technicalities: Was the balance right? Were the rhythms all together? Was that really the most appropriate articulation? The list goes on. That's the easy stuff, at least for a trained ear, and it's all necessary for a good performance. Yet when a group--big or small--unites behind a single vision, it's magic.

Maybe such performances can't be fully described. Maybe they shouldn't be. But when heard, they are undeniable, touching something deep within us all, something fundamental. And we never know when these moments will occur.