THE FORTY YEARS following the turn of the century encompassed tremendous musical ferment that now barely causes a ripple of interest. The lack of attention accorded works once cause for riots is a simple case of changing tastes. New styles have come and gone at a pace befitting the current age with little residue or overlap from one epoch to the next. Exposure of pieces only recently considered "old" tends to emphasize their relationship to our immediate condition rather than subject them to a considered historical judgement.

Undaunted by the prospect of playing music so difficult to present successfully, the Harvard-Radcliffe Orchestra gave a program principally of Britten, Berg, and Ravel. All three pieces employed a soprano soloist, a role Phyllis Curtin fulfilled with ability equal to any singer here in recent memory. All the mechanics of sound production were displayed with ease uncommon to the student efforts so familiar in Cambridge. Even Curtin's stage presence was a model of professionalism.

The Orchestra responded to the challenge of accompaniment by playing above its usual level. The solo bits--strings in the Britten and particularly flute in the Ravel--were handled with a confidence and musicality surpassing mere technical competence.

In 1922 Alban Berg could not find an opera house willing to produce Wozzeck. On Hermann Scherchen's suggestion, Berg produced a three-movement suite about Wozzeck's mistress, Marie. From 1924 (the first performance date) to the present, the opera has remained Berg's most popular work all because of the initial spark provided by the suite. The public must have acted on faith to hail Wozzeck on the strength of the suite excerpts: they contain only a fraction of the tragedy and sarcasm that pervades the opera. The last suite movement in particular loses nearly all its power as a mere conclusion to so short a collection. It is as unbecoming as Handel's Halleleujah chorus shouted out with nothing before or after.

NO ONE CAN out-conservative the British. They are astounding in their ability to take even the tortured vision of a post like Rimbaud--as Britten did in his Les Illuminations--and convert it to some planning mood pieces. When presenting a work not in English, the orchestral management ought to provide text translations. If only to avoid fooling the audience into thinking the intermission has arrived (as happened after the Parade movement).

The Intermission did arrive and after it the Weber Overture to Oberon, a bit of mindless romanticism that was just good fun. Compared to Oberon, Ravel's Sheherazade was romanticism run amok. The Weber was a perfect companion piece to the concert's opener, Shivaree by this year's occupant of the Norton Poetry Chair, Leonard Bernstein. Sporting a brass choir that practically made the Sanders Theater stage sag with the weight, the massed percussion and brass charged through a work that begs to be labeled distilled West Side Story. Bernstein's music is accessible without sacrificing musical integrity, a combination that eludes most contemporary composers, nearly all of whom shy away from any contact with the popular idiom.

The practice of securing a big-name soloist to dominate a student orchestra's program is of questionable value. Curtin gave an excellent performance which was well-supported by the orchestra. The issue is not whether a student could have done as well (which is most unlikely). Boston's professional musical establishment can provide any number of excellent singers. Harvard's student orchestras should provide an arena for student efforts, not a showcase for professional talent.