Clef Notes

Peabody Opera Theatre presents 'Cosi fan tutte'

2009-11-20T23:43:26Z

It wasn't Peabody Opera Theatre's shining hour, vocally speaking, but Thursday's performance of "Cosi" had its rewards (an alternate cast sings Friday and Sunday).

My review is posted elsewhere online; an abbreviated version will see the light of print on Sunday.

Exceptional Swedish soprano Elisabeth Soderstrom dies at 82

2009-11-20T23:13:57Z

The long list of departed opera stars sadly grew again Friday with the death of Elisabeth Soderstrom in Stockholm at the age of 82, following a stroke.

The Swedish soprano, born in 1927, was an extraordinarily versatile, elegant musician who enjoyed a long, much-admired career that officially began in 1947. She sang at the world's greatest opera houses in repertoire ranging from Mozart and Donizetti to Berg and Janacek. She enriched the opera world wherever and whenever she performed.

Here are a few examples of Miss Soderstrom's artistry, singing one of Grieg's most beautiful songs, the lovely aria from Dvorak's "Rusalka," and the sublime trio from "Der Rosenkavalier": ]]>

Blast from the Past: cellist Gregor Piatigorsky

2009-11-20T13:19:43Z

Gregor Piatigorsky, at 6'6'', was among the tallest of the musical giants from the good old days. The cellist's artistry towered impressively, too. He had superb taste, a formidabe technique and a warm personality that disarmed people onstage and off.

Piatigorsky, who died in 1976, left a mark on the cello world comparable to that left by Heifetz on the violin world. (I wonder how many of yesterday's musical greats would easily find a manager, let alone a record deal and major concert bookings, if they were facing today's classical scene, with its weakness for the fluffed and buffed, the mediocre-but-marketable.)

For this week's blast from the past, I thought we could use a reminder of Piatigorsky genuine, refined, richly communicative musicianship. Here's sample of him playing Bach, Chopin and Faure: ]]>

Wagner in concert form: Washington National Opera shows how to do it

2009-11-19T19:58:38Z

Opera is the highest of the art forms -- some of us believe, at any rate -- because it combines music, acting, visuals (scenery and costumes) and sometimes dance. Opera performed only in concert form must be a lesser entity, right? Not if you do it up proper, the way Washington National Opera did with "Gotterdammerung."

There are fully staged productions that would have a hard time measuring up to what I encountered last Sunday at the Kennedy Center. (I'm finally reporting on it now under the better-late-than-never assumption.)

This was the second of two performances the company gave as a way of making amends for the suspension of its first attempt at tackling all of Wagner's "Ring" Cycle. Budget constraints forced the postponement of what was to have been a staged "Gotterdammerung" this season, the last installment of WNO's intriguing take on the "Ring," one filled with American iconography.

WNO has promised to do that staged version of "Gotterdammerung" in the near future, together with the other three pieces of the cycle. (There was no repeat of that promise, however, in the program message from general director Placido Domingo, who wrote only that "these performances ... mark the conclusion of WNO's production of the 'Ring.' ")

The company delivered the concert-"dammerung" in the KC Opera House and kept the orchestra in the pit, as it would have been for a sets-and-all production. That was a huge

]]> With some input from assistant director Andrea Dorf (there was no official director) and ideas from several of the singers, the performance had a remarkable amount of what could be described as staging. This was not a stand-and-bark affair. Other than the presence of music stands in most of the scenes, it didn't look that much different from what you might encounter in a trendy, minimalist production, right down to the contemporary dress, atmospheric lighting (by Mark McCullough), and a couple of chairs.

What mattered, needless to say (and you thought I'd never get to this), was the music-making. Very hot.

It's no secret that there's a global shortage of the type of Wagnerian voices that soared once upon a time, and WNO didn't magically deliver a cast of legend-worthy vocal cords. But this was about as good as you could hear anywhere. Above all, everyone brought to the assignment such commitment and style that the music came fully to life. The five hours passed by in a flash.

Irene Theorin, as Brunnhilde, offered laser-like accuracy of articulation and a mostly warm, tireless tone. Jon Frederic West was the fearless Siegfried, literally jumping into the role and producing a bright sound that only rarely lost its steadiness.

Alan Held made a compelling Gunther. Gidon Saks could have used a little more tonal smoothness and, in the lower range, solidity, but his singing as Hagen registered with considerable dramatic weight. Elizabeth Bishop (2nd Norn and Waltraute) offered very impressive vocalism. Gordon Hawkins was the vivid Alberich. Fredrika Brillembourg (1st Norn) sang with admirable richness of tone. Bernadette Flaitz, as Getrune, began the afternoon not always centered on pitch, but she finished up strongly.

Philippe Auguin conducted masterfully, shaping the score with an unerring sense of momentum, proportion and sensitivity. The orchestra obviously enjoyed working with him (lots of tell-tale foot-stomping in the pit when the conductor entered for each act), and the playing had lots of fire and color that made up for occasional slips (the horns were certainly willing, but their notes were often weak).

All in all, a first-rate effort, and a persuasive affirmation of how powerful opera-in-concert can be.

PHOTOS OF IRENE THEORIN (BY MIKLOS SZABO) AND GIDON SAKS COURTESY OF WNO

Saluting Johnny Mercer on his centennial (part 2)

2009-11-18T15:05:47Z

As a commenter on my first Mercer salute pointed out, it would have been nice to include clips of the great lyricist singing.

Mercer had an unmistakable tone, with its Southern twang, and superb phrasing that was the equal of the best singers of his day. And, needless to say, when Mercer sang one of his songs, it was with the voice of authority.

Here are some examples, including a couple of his lesser-known songs:

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Saluting centennial of Johnny Mercer, master lyricist

2009-11-18T11:02:17Z

This is the day to salute Johnny Mercer, who was born 100 years ago, on Nov. 18, 1909.

He is credited with the lyrics for about 1,000 songs, including an exceptional number of what have long been recognized as standards of the great American songbook. Mercer's use of language could be just too "marvelous for words," as some of the past century's finest melody writers discovered.

I've always felt that the best popular songs, where text and tune are perfectly united, deserve to be ranked alongside the best classical art songs. Many of the works that bear the Mercer trademark certainly can be so ranked.

To celebrate his centennial, here are a few of my favorite Mercer songs, sung by some fabulous artists who make the most out of his lyrics -- and yes, as any of my devoted readers would expect, that means Streisand will be included: ]]>

The blissful sounds of silence

2009-11-17T12:26:45Z

If you attend a lot of live performances -- of any kind -- you know well how the people around you can mar the experience. I think I must be some kind of magnet for misbehaving cretins, since they're always sitting near me -- the talkers, the page-turners, the candy-cravers, the ladies with 500 clanging bracelets crammed onto their arms so that they emit a chorus of "Jingle Bells" with every slight move.

Sunday afternoon at the Kennedy Center Opera House, while a really terrific concert version of "Gotterdammerung" was being performed by Washington National Opera, a couple of over-aged lovebirds in the row ahead kept up a nonstop series of distractions: kiss-kiss, head on shoulder for a few seconds, kiss-kiss, whisper, head back on shoulder, kiss kiss, whisper. I was amazed that they lasted through the five-hour event and, sure enough, they were the first on their feet to applaud when it was over -- had they actually heard anything of the performance?

And then there was the guy in one of the balconies who screamed out something near the end of the first act. I swear I thought I heard "Wotan!", but that was probably my imagination. My guess is that the man had fallen asleep and was dreaming; or maybe he had been dragged to the opera by a domineering spouse and was expressing his annoyance. Either way, not the sort of thing you want to hear during Wagner.

Oh yes, there was also the unfortunate

]]> malfunctioning hearing aid that squealed on and on through the start of the first act -- in my row, of course. At least that was not deliberate.

I had quite a different situation the night before in the Kennedy Center Concert Hall, where Kiri Te Kanawa gave a recital, and I realized part-way through why the large audience hardly made a sound -- the soprano sang softly and intimately through most of the program. If you wanted to hear, you had to behave. Sure enough, even the usual coughing and sneezing and wheezing seemed to diminish as the recital proceeded. It was a wonderful effect -- the beauty of the singing, the refinement of Brian Zeger's piano accompaniment and a large audience hanging onto every note.

I really do think it was the nature of the music-making that did the trick. I've noticed the same thing at an unamplified play when the actors speak subtly. People really can listen quietly if they try. Too bad it's not the rule.

In farewell (or not), Kiri Te Kanawa demonstrates her lasting vocal beauty

2009-11-16T14:34:02Z

For quite a while now, there has been talk of Kiri Te Kanawa retiring, at least from the opera stage. But each time someone declares that she's heading for the exit door, she says (as she did to me in a phone interview the other day), "Hang on."

That happened again Saturday night when Te Kanawa (or Dame Kiri, as Her Majesty's subjects would say -- she was made a Dame Commander of the British Empire 27 years ago) gave what was billed as her "farewell" DC recital, presented by the Washington Performing Arts Society at the Kennedy Center. The glamorous, decidedly youthful-looking 65-year-old soprano took a moment during the concert to say, in essence, "Hang on." She suggested that, since she had performed in Washington "on average every five years" since 1982, she could well be back. If she sounds half as good in 2014 as she did Saturday, I say, bring her on.

I don't want to overstate the situation in this recital. Te Kanawa did not

]]> The program was weighted towards slow, often soft pieces -- "I don't apologize," Te Kanawa told the crowd, "I sing them because I like them" -- and that gave the soprano abundant opportunity to float many an exquisite, long-held note. Liszt's "Oh! Quand je dors" was one example; Canteloube's "La Delaissado" was another.

I wish the soprano had gone in for full embellishment of the melodic lines in a couple of Handel arias, but her noble phrasing provided ample reward. It would also have been nice to hear a little emotion on the word "Helas!" in Faure's "Apres un reve," but her appraoch to that gem of a song certainly was, well, dreamy. A group of Strauss songs was delivered with vintage Te Kanawa sensitivity.

In a gracious touch, she shared the stage with the WPAS Children of the Gospel Choir -- quite the crowd-pleasing ensemble -- for the "Pie Jesu" from Andrew Lloyd Webber's "Requiem" and the classic Cesar Franck hymn "Panis Angelicus." Directed by Stanley J. Thurston (he didn't need to conduct so broadly), the young singers had some intonation slippage, but proved quite expressive.

In her concluding group of Italian songs, including a couple by Puccini, Te Kanawa sang with a good deal of character and nuance. There were two encores -- "O mio babbino caro" and a Maori folk song, "Po Kari-Kari Anna," the latter sung a cappella to particularly entrancing effect.

The classical music world, just like those of the pop culture variety, craves -- and maybe even needs -- stars. Te Kanawa has long been one of the brightest. As this recital demonstrated, she's still glowing.

PHOTO BY JOHN SWANNELL COURTESY OF WPAS

Marin Alsop, Jean-Yves Thibaudet, Baltimore Symphony deliver uncommon versions of Gershwin

2009-11-13T18:33:08Z

A big story — maybe the biggest — in classical music over the past 30 years or so is the historical authenticity movement, the attempt to re-create the sounds and playing styles of distant times. This obsession generated a revolution in the approach to Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Schumann and other pre-20th century composers. It’s less common to find advocates for going “authentic” with post-20th century repertoire, although there certainly are opportunities ripe for re-thinking.

Personally, I’d love to see more attention paid to the way the works of Mahler, for example, were performed during, or closer to, his own day. That might have added an extra dimension last week, when Marin Alsop led the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra in Mahler’s Fourth. But Alsop is taking quite an interesting spin on the authenticity approach with the BSO’s current program, devoted totally to Gershwin and showcasing the superb French pianist Jean-Yves Thibaudet.

As it turns out, this presentation raises vexing questions about the whole historic reclamation business. It’s one thing to return to the original scoring for Gershwin’s most celebrated instrumental piece, “Rhapsody in Blue.” But what about reviving an orchestration of the Concerto in F that Gershwin didn’t prepare or approve, but was written by the same guy who did that first version of the “Rhapsody”? Where’s an ethicist when you really need one?

The story of the “Rhapsody”

]]> The result was a brilliantly lean, yet very colorful, orchestration — lots of woodwinds and brass, banjo, bass, an extra piano, percussion, and about 10 violins. Grofé subsequently prepared a symphonic orchestration of the “Rhapsody,” with all the usual strings, the version most often encountered.

In 1925, when Gershwin was commissioned to write a concerto, he felt comfortable enough to do the orchestration himself, and did so with flair, fashioning a full tonal fabric to support the solo piano. Three years later, Whiteman asked Grofé to prepare a jazz orchestra version of the Concerto in F, with more or less the same instrumental configuration of that first “Rhapsody.” Gershwin reportedly took offense.

Alsop recorded Grofé’s long-forgotten 1928 arrangement almost 20 years ago, and she has returned to it now, with enthusiastic support from Thibaudet. Hearing this version of the concerto on the same evening as the “Rhapsody” in its original guise makes for a fascinating experience.

On Thursday night at Meyerhoff Symphony Hall, it was easy to accept both pieces as “authentic,” at least in the sense of capturing a 1920s jazz flavor. (The program is repeated tonight and Sunday at Meyerhoff, Saturday at Strathmore.) The “Rhapsody” always seems more real in the first version, anyway, especially when it reaches the big, lyrical theme, which can sound too syrupy in the lusher orchestration.

And the keyboard solo can emerge with a more spontaneous quality when heard against the jazz orchestra, which was the case Thursday as Thibaudet charged into the “Rhapsody” with an almost giddy, even reckless energy. Some notes disappeared in the blur when the pianist hit warp-speed, but the playing was otherwise as precise as it was fresh and instinctive.

Alsop offered tight support, but did not always get as much snap out of the ensemble as the pianist was producing. Steven Barta delivered the famous sliding clarinet solo with panache. (Purists will note that there were more violins onstage than the Whiteman band used for the 1924 premiere, so this wasn't an exercise in total historic authenticty.)

Thibaudet proved equally impressive in the concerto, phrasing with an ease that reflected his own longtime embrace of jazz, and with a refined sense of lyricism for the work’s more tender side. The pianist enjoyed supple collaboration from Alsop and a vivid complement of players. Andrew Balio shaped the trumpet solo in the Adagio warmly.

The effect of the Grofé orchestration was striking, especially the slightly dissonant rumbles in the opening pages of the first movement (taking the place of the snare drum rolls Gershwin used in his orchestration), and the sensual spice of saxophones.

It can be argued that the Grofé arrangement undercuts the whole point of the concerto, which was one of Gershwin’s most important demonstrations of how the symphonic idiom could be fused with jazz. Without the full orchestra sound he conceived, it’s a very different piece. But, heck, it’s still a great one, and it’s fun hearing this alternative.

Issues of authenticity are not involved with the composer’s “I Got Rhythm” Variations. There is only one version (as far as I know), and it’s all Gershwin. It’s a slight work, but full of sparkling color. Thibaudet, Alsop and company gave it an effective performance.

The BSO rounded the evening off with the overtures to two great Gershwin musicals, “Girl Crazy” and “Of Thee I Sing.” Alsop had both of them flowing brightly — and sounding thoroughly authentic.

At the start of the evening, BSO president Paul Meecham saluted violinist Edward Patey and trumpeter Edward Hoffman for their decades of service to the orchestra. Both will retire at the end of the year.

PHOTO COURTESY OF BSO

Blast from the Past: Richard Tauber

2009-11-13T11:29:11Z

Maybe it's all the rain we've been having lately in dear old Baltimore, but I just had to hear something sunny for my weekly trip down Nostalgia Lane. And that made me think of the ever-sunny voice of Richard Tauber, the German-born tenor who had one of the sweetest, warmest tones ever documented on recording.

I could hear this guy sing anything -- and he sang just about anything, too, from lieder to Broadway. I'll start with some Schumann, sung by Tauber portraying a certain Herr SteigIer in one of his films. Then an example of the lighter fare he sang so charmingly. After much internal debate, I settled on "They Say It's Wonderful" from Irving Berlin's "Annie Get Your Gun" -- not the first thing you might associate with Tauber. I think it's a gem of a performance, recorded in 1947, a year before the tenor's death.

Finally, since Tauber knew his way around a podium, I thought I'd include a non-vocal example of his artistry, too, conducting of the overture to Johann Strauss' "Die Fledermaus." Note the number of his idiosyncratic touches, especially the very slow tempo for the waltz (starting at 2:23 on the clip) and the deliciously gradual move into tempo for the Act 1 trio (at 4:51).

Here, then, three cloud-lifting blasts from the past: ]]>

Update on conductor Leonard Slatkin's recovery from heart attack

2009-11-12T17:38:22Z

Leonard Slatkin, the dynamic American conductor who recently became music director of the Detroit Symphony Orchestra after a long tenure with Washington's National Symphony, is still on the mend from a heart attack earlier this month in Holland.

The Detroit Free Press reports: "He’s back in America with his doctors and they’ve said, 'Go rest and come back at the end of November and we’ll do a check-up,' " said Slatkin’s manager R. Douglas Sheldon. "We anticipate this will go smoothly and he’ll be back on the podium soon." Slatkin, 65, is now expected to return to the podium in Detroit during the second week of December.

As a little get-well wish for a conductor I greatly admire, especially for his enthusiastic devotion to American music (classical and classy pop alike), here he is at the 2004 Last Night of the Proms in London, leading an endearing performance by baritone Thomas Allen of a song I hope Slatkin will be singing to himself real soon:

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Jean-Yves Thibaudet to play rare version of Gershwin's Concerto in F

2009-11-12T12:56:59Z

The Baltimore Symphony Orchestra welcomes back French pianist (and fashion plate) Jean-Yves Thibaudet for two weeks of programs, the first one devoted to Gershwin. In today's paper, I've got a story about Thibaudet that you may find worth a read.

What makes this weekend's Gershwin fest of particular interest is the inclusion of a rarely heard jazz orchestra arrangement by Ferde Grofe of

]]> the Concerto in F, an arrangement requested by Paul Whiteman for use with his band.

I had forgotten (until she reminded me) about the recording Marin Alsop made of that arrangement with her Concordia orchestra almost 20 years ago -- "When I was in my real jazz phase," she told me earlier this week. I had filed that disc with my Gershwin music theater CDs, since the big item on the recording is his forgotten mini-opera "Blue Monday," which Alsop and the BSO will present later this season. (One of these days I've got to prepare a thorough catalog of my CDs. Too daunting a task.)

Anyway, the concerto certainly takes on a different, lean flavor in the Grofe version. Alsop tracked this arrangement down at Williams College, which housed the Paul Whiteman archives. The music wasn't in the best shape in the early '90s. "Reading Sanskrit would be easier than reading the original score," Alsop said. The parts have since been recopied in preparation for the BSO concerts. Should be fun hearing the concerto live.

The BSO performances with Thibaudet of that work, along with "Rhapsody in Blue" and "I Got Rhythm" Variations, are being recorded for Decca. That will be the third label to feature Alsop and the orchestra since she became music director.

The BSO has been a great advocate for Gershwin for quite a while, including during the tenure of Yuri Temirkanov, who was a huge fan of the composer and led some very snazzy performances of his work.

Music we've been missing (part 14): Florent Schmitt

2009-11-10T22:34:38Z

Locally, we've heard a good amount of Debussy and Ravel, but what about another French master of richly colored, highly atmospheric music? I'd say we could use a dose of Florent Schmitt, whose work has much to recommend it, but hardly ever turns up in the concert hall.

Some of his pieces would not only make a worthy substitute for such well-worn things as "La valse" or "La mer," but even for the popular Strauss tone poems -- Schmitt's writing often suggests a fusion of Impressionism and late-German romanticism.

Here are a couple examples of what we've been missing: the finales from the lush "La Tragedie de Salome" for orchestra from 1910 and the downright stunning "Psalm XLVII" for chorus and orchestra from 1904: ]]>

Sylvia McNair powerful in Weill-filled "Songspiel" from American Opera Theater

2009-11-10T18:19:00Z

A Kurt Weill song can't be mistaken for anything else. There's something tense in the warmest of his melodic lines, something pointed in the simplest of his harmonies. And that's even before you consider the words. Weill was inspired by some remarkable lyricists -- Bertolt Brecht, Ira Gershwin, Walter Mehring, Roger Fernay, Maurice Magre, Maxwell Anderson -- who found fresh ways of addressing the old issues of love and loss.

Out of some 17 Weill songs, American Opera Theater artistic director Timothy Nelson has fashioned an engrossing, even edgy new work called "Songspiel," which opened last weekend at the Theatre Project.

The music comes from such shows as "Happy End," "Mahagonny" and "Lost in the Stars" (the title song from that score isn't an entirely comfortable fit for "Songspiel"). Nelson also mined several of the stand-alone songs Weill wrote that were famously revived and revitalized by soprano Teresa Stratas on the 1981 recording "The Unknown Kurt Weill."

"Songspiel" is first and foremost a vehicle for another stellar soprano, Sylvia McNair, who originally signed on to perform Weill's "The Seven Deadly Sins." When that project had to be scrapped (the Weill Foundation's insistence on a full orchestra proved problematic for the small company), McNair stayed on and Nelson sought another way to capitalize on the possibility of presenting of one of America's most gifted and engaging vocal artists.

His concept for "Songspiel" involves a narrative about

]]> The homeless woman, identified as Jenny I, has a history of bruising love affairs, drug abuse and prostitution. In flashback, that life is relived. Woven into this dark world are Jenny II and Johnny, who interact with or merely observe the central character.

If the concept of "Songspiel" doesn't always persuade, if the troubling issues raised by the show don't always get enough context, the result is nonetheless an evening of vivid theater, directed with an imaginative touch by Nelson.

I caught the show last Sunday evening and found McNair a riveting presence. She commanded attention from the start, wearing the rummaged-for clothes of a street person, shuffling onto Charles Nelson's artfully trash-littered set and heading toward a graffiti-splattered bus stop. The soprano's voice was in superb shape, the tone pure and beautiful, the diction crystalline, the phrasing full of nuance. Her delivery of "Surabaya Johnny," "My Ship," "How Much Longer" and "Nanna's Song" proved especially potent.

The supporting cast offered vivid acting. Rebecca Duren (Jenny II) did not always produce a tightly focused sound or articulate words carefully, but proved capable of considerable expressive flair. Todd Wieczorek (Johnny) used his mostly smooth baritone tellingly; some of his high, soft singing created an especially haunting effect. The combo of pianist Eileen Cornett, trumpeter Brent Finchbaugh and bassist Laura Ruas provided consistently stylish support for the show.

"Songspiel" has something substantive to say about all of us, particularly those troubled souls we would have rather not notice. I imagine Weill would have approved.

Two performances remain this weekend.

PHOTOS BY JESSE HELLMAN COURTESY OF AMERICAN OPERA THEATER

The Baltimore Symphony Orchestra with Mozart, Mahler and Marin

2009-11-09T17:54:46Z

The last word Gustav Mahler uttered on his deathbed — according to his wife, Alma — was “Mozart.” Perhaps the composer was already hearing sounds from the next world, or simply reliving some of his happiest memories from this one.

The deep connection Mahler felt to Mozart’s music is never more apparent than in the Symphony No. 4, where Mahler offers a melodic directness and transparency of texture that produce a Mozartean grace. That quality was all the more apparent in the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra’s program over the weekend, which paired Mahler’s Fourth with several Mozart items to satisfying effect.

Music director Marin Alsop led a lithe and winsome account of “Eine kleine Nachtmusik” at the start of Sunday’s concert before a not-so-large audience at the Meyerhoff. Funny how such a popular work, one that many a non-classical music fan could hum a few bars of, doesn't actually get played by major orchestras very often. What a perfect little creation this is, a synthesis of 18th-century symmetry and sensibility, sparked by contagious good humor.

The inclusion of three concert arias for soprano on the program provided a strong link to the Mahler symphony, which, of course, famously ends with a soprano solo. The arias also gave the audience an extra opportunity to savor the talents of

]]> She's the real deal, a soprano who can produce a consistently appealing tone that, even with some thinning in the lower register, never loses its silken finish, and who can get to the heart of a phrase. A case in point was the eloquent way that Phillips sculpted the lines of "Vado, ma dove?" Alsop drew refined support for the soprano from the orchestra in each of the arias.

I was terribly disappointed in the conductor's approach to the first movement of the Mahler symphony, which calls for much more in the way of rhythmic pliability and a deeper feeling of nostalgia. Alsop was in metronomic mode, focusing on neatness and structure while passing through some of Mahler's most exquisite writing without leaving any discernible trace of personal feeling.

But things improved markedly after that, starting with some delectable, poetic shaping of the trio sections in the scherzo. The third movement was sensitively paced so that the music always had an underlying motion, but was given a good deal of breathing space as well. Alsop's attention to subtle shifts in tempo and dynamics here yielded a truly Maherlian experience, rich in character and depth. The orchestra sounded marvelous, recalling similar tonal and technical heights in last season's account of Mahler's Ninth with Aslop.

The admirable music-making continued in the finale, which had the additional benefit of sweetly endearing vocalism from Phillips. She conveyed the folk poem about a child's description of heavenly delights with abundant charm and, in the last, gentle moments, an appropriately rapt beauty.

PHOTO OF MARIN ALSOP (BY DAVE HOFFMANN) COURTESY OF BSO; PHOTO OF SUSANNA PHILLIPS COURTESY OF IMG ARTISTS