Saint-Saens wrote Cello Concerto No.1 in A minor op. 33 in 1872 when he was 37 years old. This has become a signature piece for the stunning young guest cellist, Tina Guo, who lays into her cello with such passion that she seems to become one with the instrument. With one quick chord from the orchestra, allegro non troppo soon became countermelodies from the string section intertwining with the cello’s mournful motif. Sweeping strings wrapped a protective coat around the cello, which burst forth into a tormented amorphous being trying to escape the fiery fingers of the string section. In the allegretto con moto, the cello surrendered to the string section in a stately minuet, more descriptive of a nobleman’s French countryside, though the cello’s cadenza seemed to be a sad and often rebellious entity trying to untangle itself from the conformity of French society’s judgmental woodwinds and ever watchful strings. Allegro non troppo rose up again as the cello continued its bereft protestations against a strict existence, and un peu moins vite, (a little slower) gave the cello much of the original motif with a fresh independence. No percussion was heard in the concerto other than minimal tympani, and the original heavy-handed piano was seemingly not present at all. Guo’s expressions seemed as pained and as heavyhearted as the cello with which she was melded. Parts of this piece had a resemblance to "The Swan" ballet in Saint-Saens’ better known 1886 Carnival of the Animals, but otherwise there was little resemblance to this better known work. There is something heartrending about the cello that is so very mournful and all too close to a human voice, but the beauty of this concerto made the cello come alive with determination and spirit.

Symphonic Dances, op. 45 - Allegro, Andante con moto and Lento assai concluded the program. Composed in 1940, Symphonic Dances was Sergei Rachmaninoff’s final composition. Having immigrated from Russia after the Russian revolution, much of his music is reminiscent of the beloved Russia he once knew. After a simple three-note introduction, Symphonic Dances expressed many shifting harmonies, layered with an unusual outer movement of strings and winds, and gently introduced tympani, xylophone, bells, gong, bass drum, cymbals, triangle, and tambourine. I noticed the many lovely flourishes of the harp as well as many single instrumental colors throughout, including an unusual alto saxophone solo. Symphonic Dances carried me to a romantic vision of old Russia, with a horse and buggy ride across the countryside to an elegant aristocratic ball. Sweeping and swirling strings intertwined for all time with woodwinds and brass in a mad waltz, while woodwinds pumped a furtive reminder of impending doom and ecclesiastical chants and church bells ministered a grim prediction of the changes to come. Jaffe gave his most intense expressions as moisture dripped heavily from his brow. Some sections reminded me of Prokofiev’s Cinderella ballet, while others sounded like other Russian composers from which Rachmaninoff was known to borrow. Much of Symphonic Dances was melancholy and haunting, as if Rachmaninoff had prophesied his own death just three years later. Rachmaninoff’s music has been heard in various films and the Symphonic Dances could very likely be used someday to score an epic movie.

At the conclusion of this concert, the audience immediately rose to its feet with appreciative applause. Droplets of perspiration fell to the stage floor from the smiling Jaffe as he cleverly used his fingers to signal the soloists to rise from each of their sections. Then the entire orchestra was asked to rise as the standing ovation continued for yet another successful concert given by the inimitable Auburn Symphony.