MUSIC REVIEW : Yugoslav Chorus Ends Tour at El Camino

Once regular visitors, the Branko Krsmanovich Chorus of Yugoslavia made its first appearance in this area in about seven years at Marsee Auditorium of El Camino College Tuesday night. It was the last stop on their U.S. tour, and it comes at an ominous time in Yugoslav history, when the country itself is coming apart at the seams.

This is a strikingly young, handsome chorus, 36 members strong, obviously exuding vitality under the guiding hand of conductor Darinka Matich-Marovich. Yet for those used to smoother American and Western European choruses, their sound comes as an abrasive, at times even disagreeable shock.

The Yugoslavs produce an extremely bright, biting, even lacerating blend, with virtually no bass end and little or no vibrato to soften the edge. Their attacks are not always precise, occasionally intonation flagged, and a few of their sliding knife-like portamentos sent wrinkles down the spine. If one was looking for warmth and ethereal vision in excerpts from Rachmaninoff’s “Vespers,” for example, this edgy performance was not the place to find it. And when they sing loudly, they mean loudly-- at piercing, ear-shattering levels in this hall.

These reservations only apply to the first half of the program, where the chorus tackled bits and pieces from Slavic religious works and a variety of international fare, mostly sung in old Slavic. They did manage to pull off the American folk tune, “Shenandoah,” with some charm in heavily accented English--and the fervor of the excerpts from Ariel Ramirez’ “Missa Criolla.”

After intermission, though, the Yugoslavs were on their bedrock home turf--and it was showtime. Out they came in wildly colorful native costumes from Yugoslavia’s six republics, every entrance and exit carefully choreographed for exciting visual effect.

The cutting edge of their sound was not nearly as apparent as they joyously handled a variety of marvelous folk and folk-like material from many of the republics, delighting in the jokes, the inbred odd-metered rhythms emerging as naturally as breathing. And at one point, an instrumental trio dominated by the light-fingered accordion of Djordje Pavlovich took over and drove the dance music into an accelerating frenzy.

If only the whole program had been like this.