THE BSO's SILK PURSE OUT OF A SOW'S EAR

There are those who like the smell of burning rubber and atonal modern music. , Tonight at The Boston Symphony Hall, those of us who have not yet had our brains evolve to like Messian, Carter, Berg or Schoenberg, the music was literally music to our ears. The Orchestra, under the direction of a most talented young Korean conductor, brought energy to the musical offerings that the pieces may not recognize in themselves. Shi-Yeon Sung is an Assistant BSO conductor who should not drop off the radar screen. Her hands move like those of a ballet dancer, graceful and smoothly, as does her body as she urges the musicians to put more and more into their playing....and they do it for her. She wore no tux, just black pants on her slim, feminine body and a navy blue jacket with three thin red stripes on the back and one on top and one on the underside of each arm.

As matter of taste and fact, the program was not spectacular, totally 'old chestnuts' as some may have called them, but the resulting concert was spectacular. The Sibelius tone poem (The Bard)started the evening with his typical melodic plodding, occasionally mournful to often energetic. Next was the Piano Concerto in A minor by Edvard Grieg. A Brazilian pianist, Nelson Friere, who started to play at age 3 and performed at age 5, played brilliantly, as musical geniuses are often known to do in concert. He was given a standing ovation and repaid his audience with a piano solo encore. Unfortunately, no one announced the name or composer of this lovely, delicately flowing piece, so I may never have the good fortune to hear it again..

We were treated to the Appalachian Spring, through which so many sensations are felt. We heard the Civil War, the sadness of grief and losses, and clearly, as days wound down, heard the sunset at the end of the day. The activity of the start of the day was an obvious contrast. Copland was calling with his music but it was not always clear, to someone not familiar with Appalachia, to whom or what he was calling. There were carefree parts like you might be strolling along on a beautiful day. Then the relaxed carefree spirit would turn majestic and structured, yet with carefree running through as Tinkerbell might, had she abandoned Peter Pan just for this piece. Copland soothes and excites alternately. He finished by extending a musical hand to offer a loving caress on the listener's forehead.

The final piece played was the Suite from the one-act pantomime, The Miraculous Mandarin, opus 19. Pomposity and power oozing threats and fear, aided by low, frightening melodies accompanied by lots of percussion thumping, lets one know that the Mandarin is in control and you survive at his whim. As with six and seven year-olds, there is a lot of "Look at me; look at me." While it started with the feeling that the listener was watching the Mandarin, at times it felt as though the Mandarin was watching and speaking to the listener. The sounds evolved to produce an image of a huge lumbering beast or ogre only to plunge into serenity after the tantrum. There is more dragging of feet like tired marchers, getting louder and louder. The end resulted in an appreciative audience who recognized that they had been treated to a very special evening of a potential musical ugly duckling turned into a sonorous musical swan.