By a quirk of scheduling, 
          a recent five-day span at the Aspen Music Festival featured a whole 
          lot of modern chamber music. In four concerts from Saturday to Wednesday, 
          the oldest piece I heard was Walton's Façade, written 
          in 1922. Even that was in the 1951 revision. The menu included one whole 
          evening of percussion music and another devoted entirely to Elliott 
          Carter. 
        
        The 
          Carter program on Wednesday celebrated the 25th anniversary of Chamber 
          Music America, a nonprofit organization devoted to nurturing the art 
          form. I'm not certain that a whole evening of music from one of America's 
          thorniest composers got too many members of audience in a celebratory 
          mood, however. A fairly full Harris Hall was nearly empty by the time 
          pianist Ann Schein concluded the concert with Carter's 1946 Piano Sonata, 
          by far the most compelling performance in an evening full of sincerely 
          committed work.
        
        Carter's 
          music is as difficult to perform as it is challenging to hear, and it 
          was clear the musicians involved, including the American Brass Quintet, 
          cellist Darrett Adkins and flutist Nadine Asin, approached their daunting 
          assignments with great respect. The concert had its moments, especially 
          the two concluding movements of the 1952 Sonata for Flute, Oboe, 
          Cello and Harpsichord and the fleet, flittering filigree of the 
          six-minute Enchanted Preludes (played by Adkins and Asin). The 
          chorale that concludes the often-raucous 1974 Brass Quintet came 
          as a gulp of pure water after a lot of strong, harsh drink, and the 
          piano sonata came to rest on surprisingly lovely final pages.
        
        Most 
          of the music, however, like much of Carter's oeuvre, relied on dense, 
          prickly harmonies and metrical legerdemain, which can be provocative 
          and even appealing as part of a program with contrasting music. One 
          after the other, it's wearing.
        
        The 
          same sort of programming overzealousness kept Sunday's annual Harris 
          Hall concert by the Aspen Percussion Ensemble, led by Jonathan Haas, 
          from being quite the joy it has been in the past. There were too few 
          pitched instruments, such as marimbas and xylophones, in favor of drums, 
          drums, timpani and more drums. Pieces like last year's delicious concoction 
          using cactuses of various sizes (when closely miked they sound like 
          tuned dripping water) were not in evidence. Instead we got a clever 
          but overly long piece for 12 typewriters, Symphony 1.0 by Moritz 
          Eggert.
        
        I 
          also could have done without several numbers that involved shouting 
          by the drummers, including Drama by Guo Wenjing, written for 
          three pairs of Chinese cymbals, and Devil's Dance from Drawings, 
          Set No. 9, by Sidney Hodkinson.
        
        The 
          real highlights were Song of Quetzalcoatl, written in 1940 by 
          the late California maverick composer Lou Harrison, still fascinating 
          for its sonorities and delicate rhythms, and Concerto Fantasy 
          by Philip Glass, who wrote a two-piano version for this concert of his 
          original orchestration that debuted in 2000. In the bravura piece, Haas 
          and Steven Weiser each played seven timpani and made thunder into real 
          music.
        
        The 
          final piece, Pulsemus tympanum (Let Us Beat the Drum), by John 
          Zaretzke, employed a 72-inch timpani, billed as the largest ever, used 
          in one section with haunting softness and in the finale to drive a large 
          ensemble with impressive power.
        
        In 
          Tuesday's annual concert of the Aspen Contemporary Ensemble, also at 
          Harris Hall, the results were similarly hit-and-miss, but it will be 
          a long time before I forget the haunting performance of flutist Jennifer 
          Grim and percussionists Weiser and Yuri Yamashita in George Crumb's 
          1986 An Idyll for the Misbegotten. One of America's true musical 
          mavericks, Crumb created an eloquent improvisation-like cry for the 
          flute, peppered with kaleidoscopic interruptions from two widely spaced 
          sets of percussion. Hodkinson's Requiescant: Elegy for Chamber Sextet, 
          written in the aftermath of Sept. 11, 2001, created a quiet sound world 
          that was all the more powerful for its restraint.
        
        Façade, 
          on the Saturday chamber music program, featured the spirited narration 
          of tenor Paul Sperry. An accomplished lieder singer, Sperry brought 
          the right jaunty spirit to Walton's surreal piece, based on the abstract 
          poetry of Edith Sitwell. In its juxtaposition of sea shanties with pastiches 
          of pop music and English country dances, Walton's piece is great fun 
          and contains much wit, which conductor Murry Sidlin caught nicely.
        
        Violinists 
          Paul Kantor and Jennifer John opened the program with a brilliant performance 
          of Prokofiev's Sonata for Two Violins in C Major, and just before intermission 
          soprano Jennifer Ringo joined the Euclid Quartet and clarinetist Robert 
          Woolfrey in three songs by the Jewish Argentinian composer Osvaldo Golijov, 
          the most arresting of which was Lullaby and Doina, based on a 
          Yiddish lullaby. I also liked How Slow The Wind, based on a poem 
          by Emily Dickinson. 
        
         
        Harvey 
          Steiman