SAN JOSE - In one split second, it all disappeared.

A crushing debt of millions of dollars, an orchestra struggling for
survival in the still-bleeding heart of shell-shocked Silly Valley, the
ongoing consequences of administrative bungling, unreliable/underdeveloped
community support, the sad story of musicians suddenly left without salary
- it all fell away, vanished in the Center for the Performing Arts Saturday
night.

What remained was the ineffable beauty of Mozart played with the kind of
perfection I have rarely heard even in Vienna or Berlin.

It came in the middle of the Adagio of the Clarinet Concerto in A Major.
George Cleve opened the movement quietly and slowly, and at the restatement
of the theme, he took the volume down to the threshold of hearing.  Instead
of the usual prominent, in-your-face solo entry, Michael Corner played as
if sitting way in the back of the section, with an appealing sense of
humility, completely in service of the music, a veritable Yo-Yo Ma of the
clarinet.

Slow, quiet, sweet and yet majestic, the music spread a hush, a sense of
timeless wonder over the huge auditorium.  The audience of 2,200, which
came to do good in rescuing the orchestra ended up doing well in receiving
magic in exchange.

In the old days (1972-1992) when Cleve was the music director and the San
Jose Symphony was a viable, well-supported organization, I often attended
concerts here, but seldom heard excellence of this order. . .  now that
the orchestra is in limbo, its season cancelled, its future in grave doubt.
Is this a kind of Mozart Effect - the poor play better? Or is it the
application of Samuel Johnson's observation how hanging concentrates the
mind wonderfully.  In any case, this was a grand salute to Mozart from
those already thrown to the lions.

Strings were especially outstanding, violin sections (flanking Cleve, in
the European configuration), led by Robin Mayforth and Rick Shinozaki, at
their very best.  Even San Jose's often problematic brass, although not
flawless, acquitted themselves well at this remarkable event.

At this second benefit concert since SJS suspended operations in October,
besides excellent playing throughout the evening, there was also some good
news on the money front.

A veteran supporter of the orchestra, Marie Bianco, announced her
additional donation of $300,000.  The benefit was sponsored by the
Silicon Valley Manufacturing Group, with corporate members such as
Compaq, Microsoft, American Airlines and Wells Fargo pitching in.

Against these good signs, there is something worrying about the language
surrounding the rescue effort.  It's all "restructuring" and "rejuvenation"
and even "re-conceiving," instead of taking the bull by the horn and saying
"we are trying to survive as an organization." Blowing hot air will not
help this 123-year-old orchestra live and play another day, even if it
can play so well as on this occasion.

For the evening's program, Cleve served up some of his favorite music, all
Mozart, all from the composer's last three years of life.

Before the concerto, Cleve conducted a vibrant "Magic Flute" Overture
(free from the usual misplaced sanctimony), followed Corner's self-effacing
star turn with excerpts from "Don Giovanni" featuring a fine young
baritone, Scott Bearden, and the soprano Sandra Rubalcava, who didn't
seem to know what she was singing, but even if she did, her mushy diction
prevented conveying such simple text as "Vedrai carino."

The evening concluded with what has virtually become Cleve's signature
piece - the "Jupiter."

Every orchestra that plays Mozart's Symphony No. 41 sounds different, but
every performance under his baton (at least those I heard) is characterized
by the same irresistible forward motion, a fine balance of sections, of
dynamics, of rhythm and melody.  Of his "Jupiter" performances with the
San Jose orchestra, this was clearly the best.

With the orchestra's music director, Leonid Grin, still absent and busy
elsewhere, Cleve "came home" in style, clearly relishing the occasion,
More relaxed and connecting with the audience than I ever witnessed -
and the results were all there to hear in the music.

Cleve, in fact, might have relaxed a bit too much, at least from this
(otherwise un-snobbish) listener's point of view.  San Jose audiences have
an unfortunate tendency to applaud after EVERY movement of EVERY work, and
Cleve seemed to be encouraging this awful small-town behavior (in Northern
California's largest city) by turning around each time, smiling benignly
on those who prefer to disrupt the connection between various parts of a
single work.

I don't know if Cleve had a hand in the decision for the encore after
the concerto, but he was in such a mellow mood, I wouldn't be surprised if
he thought Thelonius Monk was just the ticket.  Corner, my newly-favorite
clarinetist, played the heck out of "Blue Monk," ably assisted by orchestra
bassist David Schoenbrun, but somehow after that heavenly Mozart, it was a
bit jarring.  Objective journalism requires reporting that the other 2,199
listeners and Corner's beaming orchestra colleagues approved lustily.

Janos Gereben/SF
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