It makes perfect sense that the Russian word for glory and Mstislav
Rostropovich's nickname are the same.  One of the most beloved people in
the world, as an artist, as a mensch, at 75, Rostropovich is still getting
better in both departments.  His appearance in Davies Hall tonight for the
San Francisco Symphony's pension fund concert was an unforgettable event,
right along with every other time I heard him.

If there is one thing that helps pinpoint what makes him special, it's in
the Bach Sarabande that's Rostropovich's signature encore.  The packed hall
of 2,800 becomes completely silent, the music soars - always fresh, always
born again, no matter how many times he plays it - and when it's over,
there is always that magical hush before the ovation.  How extraordinary
it is to sustain something like this, but Rostropovich does.

The main course, the Dvorak concerto, was a fascinating experience.
Most great string players - Menuhin most dramatically - decline in
their seventies, to the point of problems with intonation, missed notes.
Rostropovich doesn't show the ravages of time anywhere near to that extent.
Some of the power is gone, that much is clear, and Herbert Blomstedt served
both the soloist and the music by maintaining a careful, fine balance.  The
cello's quiet passages were remarkable, Rostropovich playing with clarity,
simplicity, in a kind of direct communication that ranges from speaking to
singing, not the sound of a bow on the strings.

As any orchestra he appears with, these musicians were glowing with
affection and pride - string players especially exhibit signs of a
schoolboy's crush and awe - but tonight's "private duet" between the
cellist and concertmaster Alexander Barantschik was unique.  The two
Russians (albeit Swiss and English citizens, respectively) played to each
other, in a chamber-music setting, the rest of the orchestra disappearing
in the background.  Polite handshakes at the end were out of the question;
bear-hugs and kisses appeared entirely appropriate.

Blomstedt tonight ended a brief downturn in his long association with the
San Francisco orchestra - with an immiscible Bruckner Fifth Symphony last
week as the low point - as he held together the Dvorak and, more, the
Nielsen Sixth Symphony in a fashion reminiscent of his best work here.

It was a deeply satisfying performance of the extremely difficult Nielsen,
even of the fragmented second movement and the wondrously strange Finale,
which still sounds "new" 80 years after its introduction.

Janos Gereben/SF
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