I bought my tickets for last night’s concert with the San Francisco Symphony last fall when I was under the spell of an almost child-like excitement over this season’s programming of popular masterworks. In particular, the 2009-2010 season has seen the symphonies of Tchaikovsky, Mahler, and Rachmaninoff, as well as a few other big names from the middle Romantic era. The piece from last night’s concert that motivated my purchase was Tchaikovsky’s violin concerto, performed by Christian Tetzlaff—a violinist of modest stature with a powerful sound....

Tchaikovsky’s last three symphonies are probably the most performed and recorded symphonies in existence. Other contenders include those of Beethoven, Mozart, and maybe Haydn by virtue of there being over a hundred of them, but the trinity that is Tchaikovsky’s four, five, and six delivers a sampling of Romanticism that has proven irresistible to popular taste. Brahms might be worth mentioning too, had he left us more than four to choose from....

Out of a mostly irrational desire to witness two musical greats synergized in one absolutely fantastic display of awesomeness, I’d like to see Yuja Wang perform Rachmaninoff’s sonata. The second one of course. The first one is great too, but let’s face it, for a girl who professes a love for those lyrical, big, romantic pieces, Mlle. Wang can’t go wrong with Op. 36. And with Chopin’s second already under her belt, I’d only find it in the natural order of things....

It’s a curious thing how an artist who has reached a certain level of creative maturity becomes somewhat of a prisoner to idiosyncrasy. Many composers, to take music as an example, have some kind of musical trademark. Some exhibit their signature flourishes subtly or almost imperceptibly, while others do us the convenience of posting a big, blinking, neon sign in the sky. At the moment, I’m starting to think that there’s a lot in the music of film composer James Horner that is big, blinking, and neon....

I can’t speak from experience, but I bet the first half of the 20th century was a God awful time to be living. It was a time when war and economic crisis scathed the face of humanity. (Actually, we haven’t come very far in this respect.) It also was a time when so much about art and its dissemination was necessarily political, and that is a terrible thing. I sympathize with men like Prokofiev and Shostakovich—artists whose musical output was, at least for some portion of their careers, dictated by the aesthetic counsel of the Soviet Union....