ANDRES SEGOVIA AT AMBASSADOR

Any time a veteran performer receives a standing ovation merely for appearing on stage, one can rest assured that, no matter what the quality of performance that follows, the listeners’ affection will remain.

When Andres Segovia, 93, shuffled on to the Ambassador Auditorium stage Thursday night, aided by a cane and innocent of his guitar, the audience leaped out of its seats. If anyone in music today deserves such a tribute, it is Segovia.

But as pieces by Handel, Mendelssohn and Tansman followed, a disbelieving murmur washed over the audience. For the guitarist was in mediocre form, fluffing finger rolls, ignoring mistuned strings and losing his musical way mid-piece.

From time to time, the mastery shone through: The opening Handel Sarabande, though stiff, sang out gloriously, with each variation receiving a different coloristic design. And a Tchaikovsky mazurka, which closed the first half, was delicious: crisp, witty and phrased with great attention to detail.

But flesh is mortal. The “Dansa pomposa,” which closed the Tansman miniset, was awash in misfingerings, and the melodic line broke down whenever a position change was called for. The two Mendelssohn “Songs Without Words”--vintage Segoviana in better days--emerged flabby, out of tune and lacking in rhythmic pulse.

The second half fared better. Two pieces by Torroba, written for Segovia, received loving, crystalline treatment--even though he stopped midway through the second piece to begin again. The Ponce “Sonatina Meridional” drew impassioned, even fleet playing. But the difficult Granados “Tonadilla,” though it gave brief glimpses of the Segovia that once was, emerged arhythmic, undirected.

There was no encore.