Shameless Commerce” was an appropriate title for the annual Early Music Now concert featuring a fundraising auction at intermission. 16th and 17th century vendors’ tunes from London and the English countryside, selling everything from chimney sweeping to oysters, comprised the concert by the ensemble Hesperus at the UW- Milwaukee Zelazo . . .

Present Music collaborated with Milwaukee Dance Theatre in performances last Thursday through Sunday at the Off-Broadway Theatre, featuring a streamlined production of Antigone. Rather than an adaptation of the Sophocles tragedy, this was a new version with a script by Milwaukee Dance Theatre artistic directors Isabelle Kralj and Mark Anderson, and incidental music by Eric Segnitz, Greek tragedy is notoriously tricky stuff. Contemporary audiences are not as educated in Greek myth as were educated classes of previous eras. But beyond that, staring back into legendary times and finding relevant ways of presenting the profound universal truths of these dramas is downright intimidating.

After reading through the score of a brand-new work by a friend and fellow composer, the semiretired Johannes Brahms remarked: “Why on Earth didn’t I know that one could write a cello concerto like this? Had I known, I would have written one long ago.” High praise, indeed, from a man notoriously parsimonious with praise for his contemporary composers.

In their latest concerts (Feb. 24 and 26), the Waukesha Symphony Orchestra under Alexander Platt performed two works of Beethoven paired with a relatively unknown American piece and a quite obscure Estonian work, and Beethoven lost! The concert began with his Fidelio Overture, Op. 72b (1814). The sprightly overture— the fourth Beethoven composed for his only opera and the one that, in his perfectionist estimation, finally made the cut—is a fine choice for a concert opener as well. Platt lead a generally good performance of this work, with driving, sharp and crisp string passages, but there was trouble brewing in the brass section: The several horn calls were uneven and off pitch. Decidedly better was Fratres (1976) by Estonian composer Arvo Pärt, a work for strings and percussion—something of an Eastern European counterpart to Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings. Fratres consists . . .

It was not false modesty that prompted Giuseppe Verdi (1813-1901) to write to thenfamous singer Maria Waldmann, inviting her to participate in the premiere of his 1883 Messa da Requiem. “You would gain neither reputation nor money from it,” he wrote, continuing that the work’s main attribute was simply that it commemorated a great man. It might, Verdi added, “make history,” not due to “the merit of the music but because of the man to whom it is dedicated.” One supposes he had reason to doubt its lasting value, given its difficult birth. The piece had originally been conceived as a requiem mass to be performed on the first anniversary of the death of the Italian opera master Gioacchino Rossini—a work to be contributed to by several different composers. Verdi wrote a “Libera me” portion for this work, but it just never came off.

In the midst of this winter of our discontent the Milwaukee Ballet’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream conjures up a magical world filled with fairies and mortals and the expressive freedom of summer—at least onstage. Based on Bruce Wells’ choreography with Felix Mendelssohn’s score, this Midsummer condenses Shakespeare’s play to one hour, 45 minutes (with intermission) while still keeping intact the storyline of three couples bewitched by magic potions and mistaken identities, all under the mischievous doings of the spritely Puck, whose devilish horns serve him well. The dreamlike atmosphere is all the more pronounced as Wells has set the entire dance in the forest of Oberon and Titania, the fairy king and queen.

Once in a great while someone comes along whose talent leaves you breathless. Swedish soprano Erika Sunngardh’s performance of the title role in Richard Strauss’ opera Salome last weekend at Florentine Opera was nothing short of magnificent in every regard. This opera, based on the play by Oscar Wilde, is the most disturbing in the repertory. Salome, beautiful princess of Judea, falls in love and lust with the captive John the Baptist (Jochanaan).

Guest choreographer Bruce Wells’ adaptation of A Midsummer Night’s Dream for the Milwaukee Ballet couldn’t come at a better time. With thoughts of post-snow warmer weather routinely tantalizing the mind of each Milwaukeean, this fanciful retelling of the Shakespeare play will surely be a welcome treat for those seeking escape in the arts. Facing the challenge of bringing a fresh perspective to a well-known story, Wells relishes finding new ways to engage audiences already familiar with the classic tale

Perhaps no other composer’s career fell so neatly into two distinct halves as that of Richard Strauss (1864-1949). He began as an almost exclusively orchestral composer, turning out one great tone poem after another until roughly the first decade of the 20th century. Then came his “second act” as a composer of operas. While Strauss’ first two operas remained quite firmly grounded in the same Wagnerian tradition as his many orchestral tone poems, his third opera, Salome, marked the turning point—and what a decidedly revolutionary one it was! Salome burst upon the early-20th-century music scene in 1905, ushering in musical modernism and even the avant-garde. Premiering in Dresden, Germany, Salome was condemned by musically conservative critics for its perceived moral decadence, but the more adventurous found it to be a fresh start for an art form that was becoming somewhat staid and predictable.

Is he also nothing but a human being? He will…become a tyrant.” So fumed Ludwig van Beethoven (1770- 1827) upon first hearing that Napoleon Bonaparte had crowned himself Emperor of France. No doubt Beethoven felt Napoleon had . . .