April 2 marked the performance of what just could be the new soundtrack for The Phantom Menace. Not exclusively modern, the program did include Brahms' "Piano Quarter in minor, Opus 25" along with Bohuslav Martin's more contemporary "Memorial to Lidice" and Bela Bartok's "Violin Concerto No. 2." Even this was tainted by the great Modernist Arnold Schoenber who re-arranged the chamber piece for orchestra. According to the program notes, "Johannes Brahms and Arnold Schoenberg are [not-so] strange bedfellows" in a filigree of 20th century musical fracas that indeed would have made Obi-Wan proud.

This modernist feel was especially punctuated by guest conductor Christoph Eschenbach who donned a black (of course) collarless (priest?) buttonless (zipper?) shirt. Eschenbach's every motion was like clean staccato, a human metronome for the orchestra. And even special guest Midori's movements seemed strangely reminiscent of C3PO. The analogy should probably wisely end here.

Definitely the most obscure piece of the concert was Martin's "Memorial to Lidice." Written in dedication to the town of Lidice near Prague, the atrocities recounted in Martin's short eight minute tribute point to an event that was, as stated by the program notes, the "sharpest and most damning description ever drawn of the nature of Nazism." The town's crime: supposed involvement in the killing of SS Upper Group Leader Reinhard Heydrich. Their punishment: "all male citizens of the town were shot...The township was leveled to the ground and the name of the community extinguished." Blacklisted by the Nazis Martin arrived in New York City in March 1941, finding the strength to write about the atrocity a year later. The piece is remarkably simple, resonating like a clanging cymbal in slow motion. Martin included the opening motif of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, which by its rhythm coincides with the Morse code symbol for the letter "V," much popularized by Churchill's "V for Victory" gesture.

But the two remaining pieces were also excellently executed. Perhaps the most famous of all child prodigies, Midori, like many one name phenoms (Madonna, Cher, etc.) has a style that is hardly replicable by any other. Playing what was once considered the Bartok Violin Concerto (before the discovery of the First Violin Concerto), one was led to a feeling of extreme awe. Awe at the masterful execution by this petite Japanese virtuoso, awe at her apparent humility, and just plain heart-thumping, jaw-dropping awe.

As for those strange bedfellows, Brahms and Schoenberg, there seemed to be much confusion in the audience. "Wait I thought this was a Piano Quartet, where's the pianist?" "No, no, don't you see it's an orchestration." However perturbing this might have been at first, by the end of the triumphant fourth movement, all were raised to their feet. To quote Schoenberg's own succinct explanation of why he did it:

"1. I like the piece.

"2. It is seldom played.

"3. It is always very badly played, because, the better the pianist, the louder he plays and you hear nothing from the strings. I wanted once to hear everything, and this I achieved.

"4. And, heck, it makes some great movie music."