Most ordinary mortals decline, day by day; Frederica von Stade's luminosity,
on the other hand, gathers and radiates more and more lumens as the years
go by.  Even with her extraordinary reliability as a performer (can you
remember a sub-par experience when she was on stage?), tonight's Berkeley
Symphony concert went well beyond expectations.  It was one of those
deeply affecting, instantly-memorable events music lovers search for,
but rarely find.

Flicka appeared in Zellerbach Hall to help celebrate Kent Nagano's 25th
anniversary on the Berkeley podium, and she made the old, overused Ravel
"Sheherazade" a brilliant new experience.  Her performance reduced many
a macho Californian (of the state soon to be ruled by The Terminator)
to tears.

"The voice" is in perfect shape, as evidenced by the soaring crescendos
and exploding climaxes of the first song, "Asie." And yet, that was "just
great singing," as if that were not enough.  It was Flicka's ephemeral,
elusive, unembodied interpretation of the two other songs that really
mattered.

With a diction and phrasing no native-born French artist can improve on,
the mezzo poured forth unparalleled lyricism - utterly beautiful and yet
untouched by sentimentality.  Ravel certainly improved on Tristan
Klingsor's occasionally overheated prose, but it took Flicka to both
reduce and elevate ambiguity, impuissance and resignation to effective
simplicity, believable, convincing feelings, and all without perceptible
manipulation.

It was at this point, through the tears, that one was reminded of Flicka's
desire to conquer just one more role, that of the Marschallin in "Der
Rosenkavalier." And it was at this point also that the aptness and promise
of that wish became clearer than ever.  It will happen because it has
to.

In 25 years, Nagano has done wonders with the small, part-time, "regional"
orchestra that Berkeley still is.  The musicians kept Flicka company
splendidly, providing an authentic "Ravel sound," concertmaster Robin
Sharp and the woodwinds leading the way.

"Sheherazade" alone would gave earned high marks for the Symphony, and
yet it was a small portion of a lengthy, ambitious, superbly-performed
program.

Three first symphonies encompassed three periods, three styles, three
different cultures, and yet, they presented a common theme of youthful
daring and exploration.  Between Beethoven's and Shostakovich first
symphonies, there was the world premiere of Naomi Sekiya's complete first
symphony (portions performed elsewhere before), called "Sinfonia delle
Ombre." The shadows reference is to Dante's "Inferno," the 34-year-old
Japanese-born composer using what she calls "dark and emotional musical
language" to present "angelic melodies" interrupted and contrasted with
a "darker landscape."

The 25-minute work is powerful here, loud there, in the footsteps of
Stravinsky, Bartok, and - alas - Respighi.  Brass and percussion had a
field day, as did the listener with the experience of hundreds of new
compositions, which cannot hold a candle to Sekiya's.

The orchestra's high level of performance in a long, complex program
raises a question.  How is it possible when Nagano conducted in Berlin
all last week, led "The Damnation of Faust" in Los Angeles *yesterday*
afternoon, arriving just in time for the Sunday night dress rehearsal?

Nagano deserves great credit for the programming, the execution, and - of
course - for his remarkable loyalty to Berkeley, and yet, there must be
some acknowledgment of those who assist him during his inevitable periods
of absence. There cannot be a one-man preparation of Berkeley performances
from Berlin and Los Angeles (and, before, from Lyon and Manchester) - so
the question is: who and what makes all this possible?

Janos Gereben/SF
www.sfcv.org
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