With 
          Berlioz’ 200th birthday party still ringing 
          in our heads, programming begins to remind 
          music lovers that 2004 is the centenary of 
          the death of Antonin Dvorak. Only 8 days into 
          the New Year, his Cello Concerto received 
          a particularly intense and memorable performance 
          at the Théâtre des Champs-Elysées. 
          The excellent young French cellist, Xavier 
          Phillips, has recently enjoyed attention-getting 
          appearances with the National Symphony in 
          Washington D. C. and the New York Philharmonic 
          conducted by one of his mentors, Mstislav 
          Rostropovitch. He was here accompanied by 
          the Romanian conductor, Ion Marin. 
          
          Phillips has an ability to communicate with 
          his instrument and the oft-heard Concerto 
          took on a new immediacy and freshness. Always 
          attentive to structure and dynamics, he let 
          the work unfold with an attractive inevitability. 
          He is a real talent to watch. He coaxed warm, 
          moody sounds from his instrument, a 1710 Goffriller, 
          whose mention in the program was a few paragraphs 
          longer than that of its owner. The conductor, 
          not as attentive to balances, charged along 
          with a full head of steam and sometimes trod 
          on the notes of the soloist.
          
          Marin started the evening with a rousing performance 
          of Camille Saint-Saëns‚ tuneful but rarely 
          programmed Orient et Occident, Opus 
          25. An enjoyable confection, it features a 
          fugal-like allegro finale with real spirit. 
          This engaging work makes one wonder what other 
          important works by this composer remain unjustly 
          on the shelf. 
          
          Stravinsky’s 1911 concert version of the ballet 
          Petrushka comprised the second half 
          of the evening. Here the young and wilful 
          Ion Marin dashed off an impetuous performance 
          full of excitement but strikingly different 
          from what many of his podium colleagues would 
          have the courage to do. The composer’s own 
          recordings of his most popular works, dating 
          from the 1960s, set a standard of interpretation 
          which held these up as Twentieth Century works, 
          to be played cleanly and analytically. Very 
          few conductors since then, Bernstein being 
          an exception, dared to play these works with 
          any sort of Romantic dash or fervor. You expect 
          to hear the interplay of voices and the dazzle 
          of his instrumental arc in the x-ray performances 
          common in the concert hall today. 
          
          But Marin kept his eyes squarely on the big 
          musical gestures and ripe Romantic melodies 
          that still overlay this crowd-pleasing work. 
          Secondary voices and the subtle balances between 
          instruments were largely ignored in a headlong 
          rush to paint this ballet in broad brushstrokes. 
          Grumpy critics might miss the detail and finesse 
          but the audience loved it. The orchestra seemed 
          to be having a fine time too, banging and 
          tooting away with all their might. This propulsive 
          reading was seductive with all its energy 
          and even the frigid night air was a bit warmer 
          when exiting the theater.
        
        Frank 
        Cadenhead