Anglican Cathedral -- November 7, 1993.

The year-long celebrations of Hamilton's 200th birthday culminated in a commemorative concert by the Bermuda Philharmonic Society on Sunday evening.

Director Graham Garton captured the sense of occasion with a programme of music that had been carefully selected for its chronological tie-in. In the case of the major work of the night, he came up with a musical scoop which left many of us wondering how and why this particular work, which deals with the English settlement of Bermuda, had apparently remained undiscovered, and certainly unsung, for so long.

Before that, however, there was music from Beethoven, Weber and Haydn, all of whom were busily composing as the distant port of Hamilton was in process of inventing itself.

The short, but impressive, Choral Fanfare, Quo Fata Ferunt, composed by Mr.

Garton, set an appropriately celebratory mood. First performed by the Society a year ago, it was originally composed with the bicentennial in mind. Both choir and orchestra (led by Suzanne Dunkerley) performed with bright confidence.

The festive air continued with Beethoven's Concert Overture, The Consecration of the House. Written in 1822 for the formal opening of the Josephstadt Theatre in Vienna, this work resounds with trumpets and timpani, and the orchestra met the challenge of its musical grandeur.

Carl Maria von Weber is chiefly remembered today as the composer of Invitation to the Dance, later immortalised by Nijinsky as Le Spectre de la Rose. A composer of the Romantic period, sometimes referred to as the father of German opera, Weber wrote his Horn Concertino in 1815, the year in which Hamilton was granted official status as the capital of Bermuda.

American guest artist Susan Panny, who plays with such prestigious ensembles as the New York Chamber Symphony, Mostly Mozart and the New York City Ballet, was the accomplished soloist in this fiendishly difficult work.

After just two orchestral chords, the horn sweeps into the slow and mellow notes of the first theme. From then on, the variations become progressively intricate: Ms Panny rose admirably to the virtuosic requirements. The unfortunately-termed `sound enhancement', however, designed to improve the acoustics of the Cathedral, did nothing of the kind. Her solo passage, which is the technical climax of the work, was all but ruined by some very strange echoing sounds indeed, which seemed to ricochet round the Cathedral like a boomerang. To her credit (or perhaps she was blissfully unaware of the strange sound effects) she continued, with considerable aplomb, through to the end, the full orchestra joining her in the lilting melody of the final Polacca .

Haydn's Symphony No. 99 in E Flat major was composed in 1793, exactly 200 years ago. After a tentative introduction, the orchestra settled down to a mostly accomplished rendition of this delectable work. The lyrical theme of the slow movement gave way to the Minuet and Trio, an established form for symphonies at that time, and evoking perfectly, the courtly elegance of the early 18th century. By the time the Finale was reached, the orchestra was at its best, fairly zipping along in the general air of felicitous harmony, which is the hallmark of Haydn's genius.

The main work of the evening was Scottish composer Iain Hamilton's symphonic cantata, The Bermudas, commissioned by the BBC in 1956.

Perhaps the unexpected bonus was that this is a work of considerable charm, richly atmospheric in establishing the sense of wonder that obviously overtook Shakespeare's England when it heard of the undeniably romantic shipwreck.

What inspired Mr. Hamilton to compose this work is not clear, but once embarked on the task, he obviously fell under the story's spell. The sound of the sea and its sailors' ancient chants pervade the opening movement in which the Chorus defines the Islands' location from old maps and charts. The orchestra takes over in a terrific build-up to the fateful storm which overtook the Sea Venture , graphically achieved with tubas and trombones uniting with the almighty crash of the cymbals as the vessel foundered.

Then again, the voices, often sighing almost like the waves themselves, take up Sylvester Jourdain's immortal narrative on the discovery of this western paradise -- words full of humour and practical information which Shakespeare, surely, must have found irresistible.

It must be said that this work, composed in the dissonant idiom of the time, without key signatures, is a daunting one for both orchestra and singers. As far as we could tell, they made a magnificent effort, though it must be admitted that any technical shortcomings are obviously harder to detect than in, say, the more formalised structure of Haydn. For the most part, the choir seemed to come in at the right times: there were one or two worrying moments when the male section seemed to fade into nothingness, but this, too, was possibly the fault of that same sound enhancer.

Soaring above orchestra and chorus was the solid vocal presence of baritone Peter Nash, taking on the only solo role, highlighting the evocative lines of Andrew Marvell's famous poem with his perfect diction and apparently confident sense of timing -- no mean feat in a work of this kind.

Iain Hamilton was in the audience for this concert. That he was inspired to write so imaginatively of islands he had never seen was a happy coincidence for Bermuda. Let us hope this work takes its rightful place in the Philharmonic Society's permanent repertoire.

PATRICIA CALNAN