James Levine conducts the Boston Symphony Orchestra. Photo: Michael Lutch

Last week, Levine made his only appearances in subscription concerts at the BSO this season, conducting a program of Mozart, Carter, and Dvorak. Despite subzero temperatures throughout New England, large audiences braved the elements; the house was nearly full. The orchestra was seated in a different fashion than was their prior practice, with first and second violins seated antiphonally and basses placed to left, behind the cellos. This kind of shake-up can sometimes disorient orchestral players, but it undoubtedly makes sense sonically, particularly in works like the Mozart symphony, where the first and second violins throw melodies back and forth in a contrapuntal game of tag.

The program opened with Mozart's Paris Symphony (1778). I have always enjoyed Levine's interpretations of Mozart; he favors fast tempos, crisp attacks and volatile energy. Clearly, at the Thursday concert, Levine's conception of the work was slightly ahead of the violins' level of preparation. A number of unison entrances became accidental mini-fugues, with some of the players off by an eighth note or so. On Friday, these bits had cleaned up considerably. True to form, Levine took a sprightly tempo in the first movement, causing lines to ricochet between instruments. The second movement, a graceful minuet and trio that doubles as the work's only "slow" movement in this three-movement formal schema, was more stately. The finale made the most of the contrast between bold tutti and imitative counterpoint, musical elements that would be revisited in later works on the program.

Two pieces by American composer Elliott Carter followed. The first, Micomicon, was a world premiere performance. This short composition, about three minutes in duration, was written in 2003 as a BSO commission, and is dedicated to Levine. Inspired by the eponymous imaginary realm in Cervantes's Don Quixote, it is a fantastical work, filled with vivid and colorful orchestration. After crashing cymbals open the piece, a long, high melodic line in the violins is contrasted by numerous percussive interjections of both pitched and non-pitched varieties. The parts for xylophone and piano were particularly florid, as were some incisive angular gestures from the woodwinds, all of which were played with aplomb. Micomicon was well-prepared and affecting; I only wish that such a brief piece had been given a second hearing, as it was finished before it could be fully appreciated. Carter, in attendance and seated in the first balcony, was warmly received when he took a bow.

Micomicon seems to have a bright future ahead. In the 1990s, Carter wrote a triptych of large orchestral works in fulfillment of various commissions, which were then brought together into a large single composition, entitled Symphonia: sum fluxae pretium spei. In essence, this was Carter's first symphony since the 1976 Symphony of Three Orchestras. A Grammy-nominated recording of the work was made in 2001 by Oliver Knussen for DG. Apparently, Micomicon will now be added to the body of Symphonia as a short, introductory movement. This new four movement version will be performed on November 11-13, 2004 by James Levine and the BSO. Hopefully its 95 year-old composer will be in attendance at that premiere as well.

The second Carter piece on the program was Partita (1993), which actually functions as the first movement of the Symphonia. It is both longer in duration and more substantial in its challenges than Micomicon. Levine took Partita at an ambitiously brisk pace. While brimming with enthusiasm, his conducting also seemed to give a sense of the "long line", of larger phrases that Carter has crafted out of many short utterances, a valuable and necessary aspect to highlight if one is to reveal this formidable work's charms.

There are many potential pitfalls here, as the piece calls for tremendous ensemble coordination with near constant antiphony -- lines passed from section to section. This has a clear connection to the demands placed on the orchestra in the Paris Symphony, but in Partita, it was at jet velocity compared to Mozart's galloping horses. Carter has remarked that the word Partita is meant to connote both a competitive game and a musical piece, and there is a sense of vying between the various individual strands of activity in the composition. For orchestral players, this is virtuosity on its grandest scale. Each part of the orchestra has soloist-level demands placed upon it, while having to integrate themselves into a dense orchestration and coordinate their respective entrances in a rhythmically complex score.

It was clear that the orchestra was not yet entirely comfortable with this kind of modernist composition. The Thursday evening performance went off without serious mishap, but was tentative in places. On Friday, the orchestra demonstrated greater confidence and gave a more detailed performance. There is no more devoted advocate of modernist American composers, such as Carter, than James Levine. His tenure at the BSO will no doubt bring their performance of works in this repertoire up to a much higher standard. Levine has already planned performances of works by Carter, Milton Babbitt and Charles Wuorinen for the '04-'05 season, with guest conductors performing pieces by other American moderns such as Yehudi Wyner, Michael Gandolfi and British composer Harrison Birtwistle. By the time that the BSO performs the complete (and newly expanded) Symphonia in November, I have a feeling that it will be a memorable rendition. These performances of Partita have laid valuable ground work toward that end.

The second half of the concert brought the BSO back to repertoire that is steadfastly within their comfort zone -- namely the Eighth Symphony of Antonin Dvorak (1889). The Eighth Symphony was given its American premiere by the BSO in 1892. This is a piece that is pleasing for orchestras to play -- big and boisterous in its climactic passages, beguiling and lyrical in its more contemplative moments -- and Levine really let 'em rip here. The fortes were brash, the pianissimos were hushed. Dvorak's connection to Czech folk music was amply emphasized by the accentuation of certain musical details: frequent dance rhythms, the occasional schmaltz of a violin glissando, and the cheeky howling of French horns in the Finale. The latter was an example of the extreme zest with which the brass section approached this piece; I cannot recall a BSO concert imbued with as much enthusiasm or good humor. The performance was not all jocularity, however; the third movement, in particular, offered a Brahmsian poetry that was quite poignant.

You could find musical affinities between Dvorak and Carter as well: the blocks of brass chords, the long lyrical violin lines and thickly-scored tutti. Levine demonstrates his tremendous potential as BSO music director with this programmatic grouping of seemingly unrelated composers (Mozart, Dvorak, and Carter) who in reality share many more connections than the average symphony subscriber might realize. Levine may well be able to make his new orchestra and his new audience more receptive to a broader range of music by showing that modern works, such as Micomicon and Partita, belong to the larger symphonic tradition. If, along the way, there are more musically stimulating and gratifying programs like this one, BSO concerts may become the hottest ticket in town.

-- Christian Carey.