Las Vegas Philharmonic Northern Exposures in Jetsetters Magazine at www.jetsettersmagazine.com

Last November, the Las Vegas Philharmonic's second performance, "From the Heart of Europe," allowed me to poke a bit of fun at Germany. Now, with the Phil's third performance, featuring works from farther north, including Max Bruch's "Scottish Fantasy," I get to grin at the thought of Germans making fun of — well, anybody.

	German composer Max Bruch displayed a talent for epic expression.

First, however, let's go to the weather. At "Dawn", the east coast of England saw a fair "Sunday Morning", followed that evening by serene "Moonlight", and later a "Storm" at sea. The orchestra opened with these colorful scenes by Benjamin Britten, (opening photo) one of England's favorite twentieth-century composers, who created the Four Sea Interludes from his 1945 opera Peter Grimes. "Dawn" gives us a serene conversation between high, wispy strings and resonant brass chords. "Sunday Morning" features softly trilling violins, high woodwinds, the quietest crash cymbals that I've ever heard, and, of course, a loud, clear church bell. The low strings in "Moonlight" are punctuated by graceful harp notes. In "Storm", the strings depict gusting winds, the horn blasts remind us of lightning, and the tympani and bass drums represent the heartbeat of anyone caught in such a maelstrom. These are all musical "snapshots" painting pictures rather than telling a story. Britten felt a compelling attachment to the sea — "I cannot do without it!" — and his orchestral pictures are worth four thousand words.

	The highlight of the evening was Canadian virtuoso, Corey Cerovsek.

"I'm a doun for lack o Johnnie; Gin Johnnie kent I was na weel." Never mind the Germans; the Scots seem quite capable of poking fun at themselves. German composer Max Bruch created the evening's second piece in 1880, and his biggest contribution to the humor of it is the title: Fantasy for Violin and Orchestra and Harp freely using Scottish Folk Melodies, in E-flat Major, Op. 46. Actually, the Scottish Fantasy is a very graceful piece, and tonight's guest violinist, Canadian virtuoso Corey Cerovsek, wowed the crowd with his finesse and expressiveness. The words from the folk songs describe the moods in Bruch's four movements:

"Now dowie I sigh on the banks of the burn, Or thro the wood, laddie until thou return." The opening section is played grave, and it combines solemn orchestral passages with melancholy solos by Cerovsek. Bruch dedicated this piece to Spanish composer Pablo de Sarasate; this first movement is like Sarasate's Gypsy Lament (performed at the Phil's most recent Soirée), only with subdued sighing instead of open wailing.

"Hey the dusty Miller, And his dusty coat, He won a shilling, Or he spend a groat." The second movement, allegro, is merry and upbeat, with very lighthearted violin solos and surprisingly regal orchestral backing. It flowed right into the third movement, slowing to andante pace.

"I'm sure he would come to me; But oh! Gin he's forsaken me, Och hone!" The harp was placed at center stage for Bruch's piece, the better to feature its soft notes. In this movement, the harp and oboe offered a sweet, mournful backdrop to Cerovsek's violin.

"Now's the day, and now's the hour, See the front of battle low'r."

No Scottish fantasy is complete without a good fight. The final movement, again played allegro, started with folksy violin solos contrasted by grandiose orchestral passages, as if the protagonist were trying to dance a country jig while marching to war. A sudden crescendo brought us to the finale, bright and martial. Rather than flowery and exuberant, it sounded self-restrained but very proud — and perfectly Scottish.

Wild-haired Finnish composer Jean Sibelius went bald later in his life.

If you thought Scots Gaelic was an unusual language, you should see Finnish. Jean Sibelius was born in 1865 in the town of Hämeenlinna and died in 1957 in Järvenpää. (The Finns must have invaded Poland and made off with half of their vowels.) While his country was struggling for independence from Czarist Russia, Sibelius was outgrowing the pervasive influence of Tchaikovsky and developing his own musical style. His tone poem Finlandia became an anthem of the nationalist movement, and he is now considered Finland's greatest composer.

Sibelius' Symphony No. 2 in D Major opens allegretto, with lightly plucked string notes and pretty horn harmonies, but it steadily grows in its majestic drama, reminiscent of the national epic legends that influenced much of Finnish music during the composer's time. The second movement, andante, started with the double-bassists plucking very low notes, then added the cellists doing the same. New layers of sound were added by the woodwinds and then the French horns, and finally the high strings. The only percussion instruments used in this symphony were the tympanis, and they gave much of the music a brooding tone.

The third movement, vivacissimo, started lively (as you would expect), but quickly became sad, and then tense. Finally a great, sweeping crescendo tells you that the piece has moved on to the final movement, allegro moderato, with more alternating intensities, and later the symphony ends with wonderfully bright horn harmonies. There is some very picturesque music in this composition, but the countless mood swings render the movements' descriptions less meaningful and, in my ears, hurt the flow of the music. Sibelius reportedly moved away from this "continuous change" style for his third and fourth symphonies but returned to it for his fifth.

I noticed an increase in coughing by the audience toward the end of tonight's concert, and I wondered if all this northern exposure were catching up with us. The Las Vegas Philharmonic will soon welcome the spring with a March 20 performance, and by the time it closes the regular performance season on May 8, we'll all be complaining about the heat again.

— By Robert LaGrone, Jetsetters Magazine acclaimed classical music feature Editor.