Variations on Beethoven's Variations, by Network For New Music

It seemed like a good idea at the time. In 1819, the Viennese publisher Anton Diabelli sent a rather quirky waltz from his own pen to the leading composers of the day— including such historical side notes as Hummel and Czerny as well as timeless figures Schubert and Beethoven— requesting variations. As legend has it, and it may even be true, the mighty Herr Beethoven denounced the theme as a schusterfleck, or cobbler's patch.

But perhaps on a dare to himself, or just as likely, given the opportunity to receive a handsome fee, Der Meister proceeded to go it alone, conceiving a massive theme and variations set that now stands as one of the most extraordinarily rich and profound of any solo piano work, a veritable holy grail of the repertoire.

The story of the origins of the Diabelli Variations became the inspiration for a landmark celebration for a vital Philadelphia musical institution, the Network for New Music, now a quarter-century old. Founder and artistic director Linda Reichart returned to Diabelli's original conceit, calling for 25 new variations on the original theme, as composed by 25 composers, mostly Philadelphia-based, and all with some connection to the ensemble over the years.

Unknown to each other

The concept, freighted with considerable risk for unevenness, came off extraordinarily well. It certainly didn't sound like a single, cohesive set of variations, and yet the 25 short works (it was all over in well under an hour) captured a range of drama, emotion and texture that honored Beethoven's model. None of the composers had heard one another's work, and so it was left to the ensemble conductor Jan Krzywicki to arrange the order of the music in a way that made structural sense.

After the same original theme that Beethoven used was heard on the solo piano, the full ensemble of flute, clarinet cello and piano carried off the first variation, that of Robert Maggio, a jaunty, easy-to-digest number designed to put a smile on the listener's face. As with Beethoven's set, things got snarky early on, with a wispy fantasia for solo piano by Kile Smith leading to anxious, even angry music by Cynthia Folio, Richard C. Broadhead and Robert Capanna. Beethoven used sly humor to break up the flow of his pieces, as was the case here, with quicksilver gracefulness from Melinda Wagner, Andrea Clearfield, Maurice Wright and Arne Running.

Lurking in the shadows

Beethoven could also be downright strange in his late work, which includes the Diabelli Variations, and such a quality was heard in the croaking cello lines of Gene Coleman as well as the oddly compelling harmonic twists and turns of Richard Wernick, yet still with Diabelli lurking in the shadows.

Then there was the deceptively calm pool of serenity near the end: three variations in a row from David Laganella, David Ludwig and Kyle Bartlett. There was a quiet menace here, just below the surface, as was so often the case with Beethoven's otherworldly slow movements.

Conductor Krzywicki's finale, for the full ensemble, returned to a relatively conventional treatment of the theme, though now with a joyous bounce. But with Krzywicki, surely one of Philadelphia's most underrated composers, nothing is ever truly conventional. His masterly sense for timbre blending made this modest quartet sound much bigger than it actually was, filling the hall with rich tone and exquisite texture. And his ability to tie together the other 24 pieces, from composers who had worked completely independently, was just short of miraculous.

It can almost go without saying, for those familiar with this ensemble, that the playing was superb. But this should never be taken for granted. I look forward to celebrating the Network's 50th anniversary.