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In deciding to stage Beethoven's Choral Symphony for the Bermuda Philharmonic Society, conductor Graham Garton was taking what many might have considered to be the gamble of his musical life.

That he came through at all in a programme which, even five years ago, would have been deemed preposterous, was cause for surprise; that he came through so well is cause for congratulation.

To demand so much in terms of technique and stamina from an orchestra in which there are young and inexperienced players and a choir which is apparently unauditioned, requires a combination of dedication, unflagging enthusiasm and nerves of steel, to say nothing of a touch of audacity -- all of which Mr.

Garton seems to possess in good measure.

He was greatly assisted in his task, of course, through the addition of some key instrumentalists imported from overseas who were able to augment the professionalism of the Menuhin Foundation players. He was also supported by members of the Watford Philharmonic Society, who travelled from the UK to perform with their former conductor. Finally, there were four highly accomplished guest soloists from the Royal Academy of Music in London.

As always, it is necessary to mention the acoustics of the Cathedral which, unfortunately, seem to muffle and, on occasions, even distort the sound. So if this particular reviewer found the strings somewhat thin in tone at times, it is quite possible that they sounded fine from a different vantage point.

As an intriguing appetiser to the main event, there was another great choral work, the Te Deum of Austrian composer, Anton Bruckner, a contemporary of Brahms and Wagner. It is believed that it was the shock of his beloved Wagner's death that inspired this deeply religious composer to complete the great hymn of praise which he had started years before. He himself suggested that the scale of this work, with its four soloists, might form the finale of his own unfinished Ninth Symphony, thus forming a musical parallel with that of Beethoven's masterpiece. From this point of view, it was a fascinating choice with which to set the mood for the greater glories to come.

The Te Deum, although relatively brief, is monumental in effect, the initial impact of the full chorus supported by a flourish of trumpets and trombones, highlighted by the solo voices ascending almost immediately into the Tibi Omnes Angeli. This is followed by a softer mood as the Chorus almost floats into the Sanctus which, in turn, paves the way for an extraordinary juxtaposition of hymnic ecstasy and quiet calm.

Te Ergo Quaesumus was sung with great beauty and power by the four soloists: Rachael Mills, soprano, Deborah Davison, contralto, James Barrett, tenor and Nicholas Gedge, bass.

The quartet also led the way into the harmonious sounds of the climactic In Te Domine Speravi, as a flourish of trombones introduced the final glorious choral conclusion.

Although these soloists are still studying at the Royal Academy of Music, they have already fulfilled impressive concert and stage appearances in England and Europe and Nicholas Gedge has already been slated to record the Faure Requiem.

One of the (many) problems with Beethoven's highly emotive Symphony No. 9 in D minor is that it is so familiar: we all know how it should sound. A poor performance would be not so much a disappointment as a sacrilege.

So it was with a certain amount of trepidation that we settled into the hard, wooden pews as the orchestra prepared to launch us on Beethoven's profound and ultimate musical journey.

The 9th Symphony was completed in 1823, and embodies the philosophies that guided Beethoven's life: his belief in a grand design that releases and unites the human spirit in a mystical union of joyful brotherhood. He had long been fascinated by Schiller's poem, Ode to Joy, which was also seen as an oblique salute to the new sense of freedom engendered by the French Revolution.

The first three purely instrumental movements lead by a long bridge into the triumphant choral finale.

As the strings shivered through those memorable opening notes, preparing for the first of a series of thrilling crescendos that form the allegro, there was a gradual awareness that the orchestra was holding its own under the leadership of Suzanne Dunkerley. True, the retreats, pauses and lightning counter-attacks did not fully assume the cliff-hanging suspense that permeate this movement; but the rhythms of the intricate melodic themes were well sustained through to the heroic form of the coda.

It is in the scherzo that the drum passages add such a virtuosic flourish to the excitement and sheer physical energy of this movement. On the whole, this section fairly danced along, although there was a certain sketchiness in the connecting passages that link the great themes together. Again, though, the orchestra coped amazingly well. The third, slow movement contains two of the most hauntingly beautiful melodies ever written and this, too, was given an adequate account by the now just-slightly flagging strings.

Then, drum rolls and trumpets heralded the clamouring drama of the final movement, to be calmed only by the magnificent recitative of bass soloist Nicholas Gedge as he led the quartet and chorus into the joyful tidal wave of sound that encompasses the finale.

This last movement was by far the most successful, as the voices of the soloists soared effortlessly over the inspired singing of the 120-voice chorus and went a long way in justifying the decision to mount this incredibly ambitious symphony. Whether it is a wise decision for any amateur group to attempt a work of this complexity and magnitude is a question to keep everybody happily debating for months to come.

No-one could deny, however, that the Philharmonic Society made a valiant attempt and, in the process, provided us with moments that were both beautiful and moving.

-- Patricia Calnan .

SOLOIST Rachael Mills, one of four who shine in Te Ergo Quaesumus.