On Maui, budding virtuosi reach for the stars
Steps to Parnassus

The life so short, the craft so long to learn.

The Godfather: Robert E. Wills, founder and music director of the Maui Chamber Orchestra.

Gateways for the best and brightest? Springboard for soulless virtuosi? On the cutthroat international scene, some regard any music competition as a necessary evil, some as an unnecessary evil. The Youth Concerto Competition of the Maui Chamber Orchestra, held for the first time in December, was conceived in the happier spirit of opportunity, simply to identify and encourage the Aloha State's most promising young classical instrumentalists. A total of ten musicians applied, five in the junior division (15 and younger), five in the senior division (18 and under). In each division, one applicant withdrew at the last minute. Superintended by the orchestra's founder and music director Robert E. Wills, a Young Artists Showcase this weekend presented three very poised and polished prizewinners.

Following in Vivaldi's footsteps: Yxing Guo.

Catching talent on the way up is always a thrill. Among the juniors, two violinists from Honolulu shared top honors. Yxing Guo, 11, was heard in the "Winter" concerto from Vivaldi's The Four Seasons, while her sister Ylang Guo, 12, offered the concluding Rondeau—Tempo di menuetto movement from Mozart's Violin Concerto No. 5 in A major. Of the seniors, the Michigan-born Maui resident Bryce Clearing Sky, 18, celebrated his victory with the opening Allegro con brio from Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 1 in C major. More on their performances presently.

A Mozartean in the making: Ylang Guo.

The second half of the program was given over to Haydn's Cello Concerto No. 1 in C major, remarkable for the majestic reading of the solo part by Jonah Ellsworth, born in 1994. Ellsworth, too, has won some prizes along the way, but what counts at this stage is his record as a working professional.

Not resting on his laurels: Jonah Ellsworth.

As evidenced in the Haydn, Ellsworth takes charge from the very first note. His sound is rich, and richly varied. He shows hair-trigger reflexes in matters of color, dynamic, phrasing, and attack, yet he never forces or reaches for effect. From the midst of passages for the full orchestra, he takes flight like an eagle. Two years ago, a critic for the Boston Globe hailed him as "a kind of unrepentant Tannhäuser," a phrase less meaningless in the context of the review in which it appears than on its own, but likely to trail him for years as an index of his charisma.

Ellsworth's treatment of those unaccompanied bravura episodes known as cadenzas strikes me as especially distinctive. Occurring near the end of a movement, a cadenza exists for no other reason than for the soloist to show off. But to show off what? Technique? Originality? Musicality? Panache? Taste? All of the above. (Depending on the period, soloists might supply their own improvised or fully prepared cadenzas, choose optional cadenzas by the composer of the pieces in question, or opt for cadenzas from other hands entirely.) In any case, the cadenza is framed by harmonies the most casual listener recognizes as signposts, bracketing some sort of time-suspending, detachable burst of glory. Ellsworth delivered the glory without disrupting the larger flow.

Before inviting Ellsworth to the stage at the second of the two performances (surprisingly well attended despite an unfortunate conflict with the Super Bowl), Wills, doubling as maestro and emcee, reported an exchange he had heard backstage moments before. One of the violinists was asking Ellsworth what he had thought when he heard people predicting he was on his way to becoming a second Yo-Yo Ma. "I try to keep my head screwed on straight," Ellsworth is said to have replied, "and keep practicing."

Those are words to live by at any stage of a musical career. To judge by their work on Sunday, the young Misses Guo and Master Clearing Sky have been practicing hard, under the watchful eyes of capable pedagogues, whom Mo. Wills had the sense of what is right to recognize from the stage.

The violinists are building on the firm foundation of a clean, clear legato and accurate intonation. Like Vivaldi before her, Yxing served as leader of the ensemble in a double sense, setting the pace while executing the solo part. Though she acquitted herself with aplomb, the showmanship may have come at a cost. Repeatedly, the most brilliant flourishes started and ended in high definition but lost focus midway. I suspect all concerned would have done better with an extra pair of eyes and ears and hands to keep them really together rather than just more or less, to adjust balances, clean up the pitch, and broaden the dynamics.

Mechanics aside, there was the question of atmosphere. In the chilly opening and closing movements of "Winter," Vivaldi pushes us, insufficiently protected, out into the elements. In the largo, we take shelter indoors, by a warm fire. The plucked notes of the accompanying strings conjure up softly sifting snowflakes (Vivaldi says rain), glimpsed through frosted windows. The scene-painting by the ensemble went pretty much by the board on this occasion. Yet it was at the close of this movement that Yxing shone brightest, spinning out a soft, exquisitely controlled trill that lit up the room.

By the clock, Ylang's segment of the concert matched Yxing's almost exactly. But where Yxing played an entire three-movement concerto, Ylang played a single movement from a concerto that is likewise in three movements. Developing a more limited cache of thematic materials over a broader span, the Mozart withers on the vine without a steady stream of fresh interpretive detail. Both the elegance of the opening section and the brash "Turkish" interludes seemed to come to Ylang instinctively, but as the carousel spun round, a certain monotony set in.

Taking Beethoven to heart: Bryce Clearing Sky.

Invited to speak about the Beethoven, Clearing Sky preferred to jot down a written introduction for Wills to read aloud. As I recall, his comments underscored the opposing moods of contentment and upheaval as reflections of the quintessential humanity of the music. We might add: its universality. As his name, his looks, and a gravitas beyond his years suggest, Clearing Sky is of Native American descent (per information from his family, an enrolled member of the Little Traverse Bay Band of Odawa Indians Nations as well as Jemez Pueblo and Navajo). In performance, Clearing Sky proved well-prepared if perhaps a little wary of the revealing gesture. Making his way through Beethoven's noble architecture, he maintained for the most part an unassuming, conscientious detachment. But then, in dialogue winds and brass, unspooling nothing more elaborate than some chromatic scales, he caught a note of silken mystery. All at once, a window opened.