A 
          festival has an advantage over your usual symphony series because, when 
          a star performer falls ill, there's usually someone hanging about who 
          can jump in. Yefim Bronfman, an Aspen Music Festival favorite for years, 
          was scheduled to play the Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto No. 1 Friday evening 
          (July 11) but canceled when he couldn't recover quick enough from an 
          undisclosed illness. The 2,050-seat Benedict Music Tent was sold out.
        
        Fortunately, 
          violinist Gil Shaham was in town to play a few concerts of his own. 
          In remarks from the podium, conductor Michael Stern lauded Shaham's 
          graciousness in stepping in at the last minute, noting, "We couldn't 
          get him to play the piano, but he's agreed to do the fiddle concerto."
        
        And 
          boy, did he ever. Shaham lit up the tent with a dazzling performance 
          of the Tchaikovsky concerto, a showpiece in the classic Romantic style. 
          And this was Shaham's performance, from his 1699 Countess Polignac Stradivarius' 
          very first utterance. Shaham showed no shame in stepping forward to 
          lead the way. Stern, and the Festival Orchestra, the A band of the festival's 
          five main orchestras, managed to stay with Shaham's rapid tempo changes 
          as if they had been playing the work together for years, triumph enough 
          on such short notice.
        
        Never 
          one to phone in a performance, Shaham found plenty of wonderful details 
          to bring out, from the quiet, almost simple introductory measures, adding 
          an extra lilt to the first movement's themes, ratcheting up the intensity 
          with every stretto and accelerando, until the melodies 
          broadened out with an almost audible sigh. This was very special fiddle-playing.
        
        The 
          audience knew it, and they broke protocol with a boisterous response 
          to the first movement. This was, I believe, the first time I have seen 
          a multi-movement work interrupted by a standing ovation. Momentarily 
          befuddled, Stern stepped down off the podium and milled around with 
          Shaham. At one point it looked as if they were going to leave the stage. 
          When the applause had subsided, Stern mounted the podium again and turned 
          to the audience. "We have a lot more to play," he said, "if you want 
          to stay."
        
        A 
          lovely canzonetta led seamlessly into a fast-paced finale, which never 
          lost that sense of Russian dance that imbues the rhythms, even as it 
          raced recklessly to its several climaxes. Shaham has as solid a sense 
          of rhythm as any violinist out there today, and this movement was simply 
          mother's milk for him. The final standing ovation, when it inevitably 
          came, was well deserved.
        
        Debussy 
          occupied the second half of the program, with Prélude à 
          l'après-midi d'un faune and La mer. Stern gave the 
          two ultra-familiar works a straightforward reading, and flutist Nadine 
          Asin gave the opening moments of the Prélude a special 
          je ne sais quoi. Several wary moments made it clear that the 
          rehearsal effort went more into the first half of the program, which 
          opened with Janacek's The Fiddler's Child, a 1913 tone poem that 
          is not heard often enough. It has all the composer's trademark color 
          and emotional verve, and it gives the concertmaster a chance to show 
          off. In this case it was the young American Alexander Kerr, concertmaster 
          of the Amsterdam Concertgebouw, who carried off the honors.
        
        Kerr 
          played a major role in highlights of the rest of the weekend, in particular 
          his participation in the Franck Piano Quintet in F Minor on Saturday 
          afternoon and the Chausson Concert in D major on Monday evening. 
          He also delivered a gorgeous account of the Schubert Fantasy in C 
          major. Anton Nel was the pianist in the Franck and the Schubert 
          and proved a worthy co-conspirator.
        
        The 
          jewel was the Chausson. The vibrant pianist Wu Han, who manages to combine 
          a soloist's sparkle with a collaborator's sensitivity and support, teamed 
          with Shaham as the violin soloist and the quartet led by Kerr.
        
        New 
          music fared less well in the weekend's programs. On Saturday, Violist 
          Masao Kawasaki gave London-born Sally Beamish's 2003 anti-war piece, 
          That Recent Earth, an impassioned reading, but it never seemed 
          to get past the harsh anger that it began with. Danish composer Paul 
          Ruders' 1984 Tattoo, a sort of modern toccata for clarinet, cello 
          and piano, leaped and pranced but never came to much on Sunday. And 
          the 2002 Calico Dances, written for computer-generated percussive 
          sounds and electric viola by Canadian composer Michael Scherzinger, 
          found John Graham sawing away Monday at his frame of a viola, but it 
          never got beyond percussive scraping.
        
        But 
          the most aggravating concert was Sunday afternoon's program conducted 
          by Stanislaw Skrowaczewski, the Polish-born conductor who led the Hallé 
          Orchestra from 1984 to 1991. The program opened with his arrangement 
          for string orchestra of an Adagio written by Bruckner for string quintet. 
          That, as it turned out, was the highlight of the day. Stephen Hough's 
          fleet but uninflected account of Mendelssohn's Piano Concerto No. 
          1 in G minor and Weber's Concert-Stück in F minor, meant 
          to be the centerpieces, never got off the ground, and the conductor's 
          leaden, undifferentiated approach to Beethoven's Symphony No. 8 seemed 
          like it would never end.
        
        Fortunately, 
          there were other highlights, including Susanne Mentzer singing two wonderful 
          French songs written to be sung with piano and cello, beautifully executed 
          by pianist Ann Schein and cellist Michael Mermagen. Berlioz's La 
          captive, orientale found the mezzo-soprano in a sultry mood, beautifully 
          reflecting the protagonist's appreciation of her luxurious surroundings 
          while lamenting her captivity, all with warm chest tones and creamy 
          high notes. Even more ravishing was Élégie, a lovely 
          lament by Massenet, which found Mermagen singing the tune first like 
          a world-class tenor, then harmonizing seductively with Mentzer's voice.
        
        Harvey 
          Steiman