The Florence Gould Theater, deep in the recesses of the Palace of the Legion of Honor, is the perfect chamber for playing chamber music. With an instrument as delicate as a harp, every whisper of fingertips across the strings, every pianissimo harmonic, every nuance of color is easily discerned. The acoustics are more than generous to string and wind tone, rounding out the high register of a flute or lending richness and clarity to the bottom string of a cello.

Not that the players who graced the stage Sunday afternoon needed much help: This latest incarnation in the Avedis chamber series was composed almost entirely of virtuoso pedagogues from Stanford, the SF Conservatory, and UC Santa Cruz. Their execution was flawless and inspired, proving that while those that can may do, those that teach do even better.

The instrumentation this time was a quintet of harp, flute, and string trio, for which enough French repertory has been written to give the concert a national theme. And so it did. The opener was a brief but satisfying quintet by Françaix, with the chops, sentiment, and vigor so typical of the composer and the tradition on which he modeled his style.

It served as a fitting contrast to the piece that immediately followed, a duo for flute and harp dubbed L'Aube Enchantée by none other than the renowned sitarist Ravi Shankar. The title was fitting in language as well as meaning, for this piece was as notable for its French influence as for its Indian roots. Replete with modal drones and sitar strums, its lightness and freedom of structure bespoke of the music that the composer would have been exposed to in his youth in 1930s Paris.

Lifting The Veil of Anxiety

The Trio for Flute, Viola, and Harp, a recent work (1997) by Jean-Michel Damase, was a delightful addition to the literature for this combination, first struck upon by Debussy. Paul Hersh opened with a bold statement on viola, almost atonal in its melodic awkwardness. Then harp and flute swept in and the veil of anxiety was lifted. This was danceable, joyous romping, as far from alienation and existential angst as the Gallic esthetic can get. The awkward theme returned now and again in the first movement, revealed when clothed by accompaniment to be a soulful glide through harmonic fluidity.

The second movement had a mysterious innocence reminiscent of Ravel and D'Indy but in no way reliant upon them. The aria duetto between Hersh and flutist Alexandra Hawley was at times sweet, at times passionate. The third movement began with flagrant and mischievous hemiolas, the harp in the duple rhythms, the flute and viola dodging in and out with rambling yet deft triplets. Sentiment in the fragrance of Chausson tumbled across ironies in the spice of Prokofiev. In the rambunctious coda, bow and breath bantered 2-against-3 rhythms as the harp crashed and rippled the music to a glittering conclusion.

As the concluding half of their concert, Avedis presented one obscure work and one familiar. The familiar piece most followers of this repertory should recognize. But the obscure one was an example of a hidden muse, by a musician who kept the light of his composing under a bushel while his playing was acclaimed world-wide. This was Robert Casadesus, known chiefly as a Ravel student and the last word in interpreting that composer's piano works. Casadesus however, was himself a composer of no small inspiration, ability, or output, creating a repertory of symphonies, chamber works, and concerti the equal of many better-known works.

The current obscurity and lack of publication of his compositions is certainly an injustice, as this quintet's performance demonstrated. Casadesus seemed to alloy the highly internalized counterpoint of Bach into the sensibilities and harmonic language of early modern Paris.

Casadesus' Thorough Architecture

In some ways, the structure was highly traditional: a prelude allegro with ritornello, a deeply sensitive sicilienne as middle movement, a briskly tripleted finale over a danceable two-step. Yet Casadesus' architecture was thorough in the best of ways. Line played against line with engagement and conviction, giving each player ample opportunity to demonstrate excellence. This was music in the Bach tradition, written by a first-rate performing musician who knew how to make his fellow musicians sound good.

The best was saved for last. Originally written as a competition piece for the Paris Conservatoire's concours by its phenomenal resident harpist-composer Marcel Tournier, Féerie - Prélude et Danse is more than just an etude showpiece. It is a dissertation, a categorical statement on how to make the harp sound good in a chamber group.

So elegant in support of her fellow musicians as to blend at times invisibly up to this point, harpist Marcella DeCray took the stage with grace and majesty, dancing lightly over the top of the iridescent instrumentation, knocking over the cadenzas with breathtaking ease, and pushing and pulling the ensemble from the glorious center of the music. Interpreter and composition were engaged in a dialog over the culmination of a life's work, and we were exceedingly fortunate to be in the same room overhearing it.

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