With the two final International Series performances, those of Eliot Fisk (January 29th) and Paul Galbraith (March 4th), one could scarcely find two finer artists, nor two opposite approaches to artistry. Fisk is the epitome of the "inspired artist", playing from a deep sense of emotion, letting the muse flow from within, playing each note with little regard to convention but rather to his own artistry. Galbraith, on the other hand, had total control of every note, each phrase the result of careful reflection and consideration, every passage part of a grander plan. While Fisk took you along on a journey that he himself commandeered, Galbraith seemed a channel for the spirit of those whose notes emanated from his instrument.

Fisk is one of the leaders of the post-Segovia, post-Williams/Bream generation, those whose careers took off in the 1970s and who have managed to sustain them to this point. He gained the favor of the old maestro himself, and has not only capitalized on that but forged a clear career path on his own merit. With stunning performances such as heard at Benaroya, there is no doubt that here is an artist who pushes his instrument to its limits and then some. If the tempo works fine for the first 40 measures, but is too fast for those middle eight, too bad; it will be a bumpy ride for a few moments. This is not to say that Fisk plays with reckless abandon, but with more regard for the spirit of the music than for string buzzes or other momentary glitches.

From the opening measures of Sor's Introduction and Allegro, Fisk's style was apparent. What is usually a subdued and tender opening was treated with a building intensity that screamed for the following Allegro. And while most might treat the Allegro with attention to the orchestral/Mozartian texture, Fisk unleased a stampede of notes, driving the tempo with fury. The following variations by Frescobaldi were approached in much the same way, slow tender passages being just calms before ensuing storms. In fact, it was not until Bach's Sonata in C major, BWV 1005, that an introspective Fisk emerged. The Largo was possibly the sweetest single movement that we have heard on the guitar at the Benaroya in these past two seasons. Each phrase delicately linked to the next, a profound statement evolved that relayed unspoken sadness and understanding. This, sandwiched between one of Bach's longest fugues and a dynamic perpetual-motion Allegro assai, seemed to catch almost everyone off guard.

Highlights from the second half of Fisk's concert included four contemporary selections by Rochberg from his American Bouquet, semi-short impressionistic sketches based on a variety of American popular styles. The Notre Dame Blues was a special hit with the audience, a rather light-hearted but difficult treatment of the basic 12-bar blues.

Concluding the program were two Capricci by Nicolo Paganini, originally for violin. Fisk has become a legend in the guitar world for his recording of all 24 Caprices, and he demonstrated that though these pieces could have been written for the guitar, only a Paganini or a Fisk could truly play them with the fire and intensity required.

Five weeks later, we saw a totally different approach and artistry in Paul Galbraith. As mentioned above, Galbraith considers every note and its relation to everything before and after its sounding. Nothing is left to chance; every movement is a reflection of a well-thought-out architecture.

Though Galbraith won public acclaim at the age of 17 in his native Great Britian, he later retreated for several years to reconsider not only the art of interpretation, but the entire technical aspect of his instrument. By 1989 he perfected a transformed 8-stringed instrument that is held like a cello, complete with an endpin that fits onto a resonating soundbox. Ten years later the fruits of his careful approach to musical interpretation and performance garnered him a Grammy nomination for his recording of the complete violin Sonatas and Partitas of Bach. In this sense, he shares something with Fisk in that they both produced unparalleled transcriptions and recordings (Fisk with the above-mentioned Paganini Caprices).

The opening Dowland selections flowed with the purity one would expect of this Elizabethan composer, very clean and effortless. Perhaps more interesting was how Galbraith carried this flavor into the next selection, Benjamin Britten's Nocturnal, Op. 70. A reversed theme-and-variations on a Dowland theme, the Dowland/Britten pairing created an extended arch. Beginning with the very stately Dowland Pavane, moving to the freer Fantasia, then continuing into the ensuing mayhem of the Britten, the return to Dowland at the end of the Nocturnal brings us full circle to the spirit found in that earlier Pavane, the theme almost belaying the rising sun after a long night.

Galbraith closed the first half of his concert with his own transcription of a Haydn piano sonata. In a way, you could say that this sounded so natural on the guitar that Galbraith discovered a new Sor-era composer for our instrument.

In the second half of his concert, Galbraith demonstrated what he has become known for. Though many may argue with his approach to the two Bach lute works, BWV 997 and 998, there is no disagreement that Galbraith played exactly what he wanted and had his own reasons for doing so (although I don't totally buy into it). He sees the Sarabande as the defining mid-point of most Bach suites, and plays them as such. That is fine, but in this case he treated two suites as one. This gave a few members of the audience some confusion as to where he was in the program, and left those of us who did know where he was scratching our heads, wondering "why?". While playing the two lute suites as one larger work, he played the Gigue slowly, as a continuation of the preceding Sarabande (gigues are supposed to be fairly light and quick). But again, he has his well-thought-out reasons for doing so, and it was all part of a larger plan. And he has the Grammy nomination, certainly not me! Aside from that issue, his Bach was extremely transcendental, almost as if coming from someone else.

For those who saw both concerts, we heard the absolute best of both worlds of the guitar: Fisk with his passion burning through every scale and arpeggio, and Galbraith, who seems to have taken interpretation to levels seldom heard on any instrument. This is as good as it gets.

And yet -- next year's International Series might dare to be even better!

Brian Dunbar

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