Building a classical concert around the concept of “surprise” is no easy feat, for the inherent conservatism of subscription audiences does not covet the unexpected. Since Jung-Ho Pak has become Artistic Director of the San Diego Chamber Orchestra, his programming has tended to the clever rather than the daring side of the musical spectrum, but Monday night at Sherwood Auditorium, he bravely went out on a limb.

The genuine surprise on this concert was a newly minted Concerto for Theremin, written by San Diego composer Linda Kernohan. Since Scott Paulson, the SDCO’s long-standing (well, sitting, actually) second oboe is one of two Theremin virtuosos in Southern California, Pak decided to capitalize on this fortuitous circumstance.

Ah, you say you’re not certain what a Theremin is? You are in good, or at least numerous, company. This rare but not quite extinct instrument, arguably the first electronic instrument of the last century, was invented in 1919 by a Russian physicist, Léon Theremin, and championed by no less a figure than Lenin, who—in some of his Marxist-Leninist downtime—attempted to master the instrument. It is the only instrument which makes sounds without direct touch—the player merely moves his hands around two perpendicular antennae to create pitch and change the volume. Although the great Russian-American virtuosa Clara Rockmore played the Theremin with notable orchestras in the 1930s, that fad waned, and the eerie, other-worldly (to some ears) sound of the Theremin found its home in film scores, especially science fiction movies. From the genius of Ed Wood, the Theremin jumped to the imagination of Robert Moog, who claims he would not have invented the synthesizer without first having encountered the Theremin.

Ms Kernohan’s modest, single-movement work for solo Theremin and Orchestra would have been called a Concertino in the 1940s, a musical period which the piece invokes fondly and skillfully. It begins with the orchestra setting up a tango-like ostinato bathed in rich orchestral colors, an apt scenario for the ghostly wail of the Theremin to enter. The solo lines tended to long, lyrical stretches within a modest range, although the composer exploited a snazzy affectation where the Theremin line was sliced off in a swift, violent downward portamento. The work’s mid-section sounded like an homage to a Douglas Sirk noir sound track, and the finale included some fine duets for soloist and flute, as well as with the first violin. Paulson was in fine fettle, although seeing him in a totally serious performing mode probably shocked his loyal fans who know him from the annual UC San Diego toy piano festivals at the Geisel Library. Next year a concerto for the Ondes Martenot, perhaps?

Pak’s more ordinary surprise for his audience was a set of four Irish songs arranged by Beethoven, sung by the young American soprano Mary Ann Carr. In truth, Beethoven arranged these songs for voice and piano trio (along with many other British folk songs) for a Scottish publisher, an arrangement that strikes most observers as a commercial venture rather than an artistic undertaking. Pak had the songs orchestrated for this concert, and the whole package proved quite agreeable. The slight vocal scope and lack of elaboration of these simple songs means the singer must make the most of declaiming the text and capturing the underlying emotion of the poetry. I was touched by Carr’s melancholy in the song “The Return to Ulster,” and she had great fun knocking the stuffing out of English mores in “The Irishman in London.” A light, colorful voice, Carr’s real power appeared to be in her upper range, although I believe we only received intimations of that power in these songs.

Haydn’s evergreen “Surprise” Symphony contains as much actual surprise as the political bent of George Bush’s Supreme Court nominees, and surely every concert-goer in captivity has memorized that loud chord in the opening measures of the second movement. Nevertheless, such a great symphony—one of the composer’s magnificent twelve London symphonies—needs no special pleading to be heard again. It was not easy to erase the memory of the San Diego Symphony’s polished and effervescent performance of the work last month at Copley Symphony Hall as Pak urged his under-rehearsed troops forward through this score. Like a small army under siege, they fought bravely. Muscle and determination may get an orchestra through some Beethoven, but not very much Haydn.

The strings remained on edge, with the brass threatening to overpower them at every turn. Perhaps a more relaxed tempo through the second movement variations would have brought sweeter sounds from the players and provided some needed emotional contrast. I always picture Haydn in a greatcoat and a puffy, white wig. Very 18^th century. Pak’s Haydn wears jeans and has a multi-colored tattoo on his left arm.