Strauss is a storied name in music.

There was the Austrian family and its famed Strauss Orchestra: Johann the Elder (Radetzky Waltz); Johann the Younger, the "Waltz King" (Blue Danube, Tales of the Vienna Woods, Die Fledermaus); his brothers Josef and Eduard; as well as Eduard's son, another Johann, and grandson, another Eduard – all well-known violinists, composers, and conductors.

As if that were not enough, there was also the German family: Franz Joseph and his son Richard, composer of Der Rosenkavalier, 'Till Eulenspiegel, and Also sprach Zarathustra.

And then let's not forget the French family almost everyone forgets: Isaac Strauss, who was also a violinist, composer, and conductor, and also composed polkas and waltzes, some with the same titles as those by the Austrian family.

Whew....

For the Honolulu Symphony's concert, conductor Andreas Delfs mixed traditions to focus on the two most famous Strausses, the "Waltz King" Johann of 19th-century popular music, and Richard of 19th/20th-century classical music.

Amidst a program of popular favorites, the surprise was Richard's rarely performed Oboe Concerto, featuring the Symphony's principal oboist Scott Janusch.

"I think this is the first time it's been done in Honolulu," Janusch ventured during the pre-concert interview, "at least to the best of my memory."

Composed in 1945, near the end of Richard's life, the Concerto turned out to be a polished gem, reflecting none of the post-World War II avant-garde turmoil of its age, but all of the skill and love of music accumulated from a lifetime of composing.

"Strauss in his later years was looking back to Haydn and Mozart," Janusch explained. "He was living in [Germany] with his family and was very dejected. He was afraid Classical music was dying and wanted to do something to preserve it. [The Concerto] is sort of a homage to those earlier composers; it's sort of like he had a last gasp of inspiration."

Janusch, with doleful eyes and in somber black, turned that inspiration into poignant song. He played with outstanding purity of tone and sleekness of line, master of all that gives oboes such a reputation for being difficult – intonation, reed, dynamics, and especially breath control.

"Strauss wrote a number of extended phrases," Janusch stated mildly. "By the last page, I'm oxygen deprived, trying to remember how to finger an 'E'. You breathe when you can.... I knew it was going to be physically demanding, so I bought a bike. I try to leave the car in the garage. I'm in better shape now and have even lost a little weight."

Delfs closed the concert with a boisterous reading of "Till Eulenspiegel's Merry Pranks," Richard's most fun-loving tone poem. Composed when he was only thirty, a half a century before the elegantly refined Concerto, "Till Eulenspiegel" provided an exciting finale with its youthful vigor and dramatic "painting" of a story.

The remainder of the program was given over to the Viennese waltzes and polkas of Johann the Younger.

These dances took Europe by storm in the 19th century, becoming an integral part of the culture. Some might argue that if you are to understand anything of 19th-century music, Vienna, or its culture, you must begin with these dances, and furthermore, that if you are to understand these dances, you must yourself dance them.

In Viennese dances, you do not play the beat; the music is what happens around the beat, in an elastic phrasing of dialogue, in Atempausen (pauses) within measures, in the emotional tug-of-war between sections. No matter how large the orchestra, or how fast the tempo, Viennese dances remain effervescent, light on their feet and seemingly without effort.

This does not, however, suggest a uniform style. Dances played in a dance hall were different than the same pieces played in a ballroom or in concert. This music is not just dance, but also a philosophy and an expression of class. "Beat sense" is culturally based and extremely difficult to teach: how you play or dance reveals much about who you are and where you are from.

The orchestra was not entirely at home in this music, and it was clear that the German Delfs was working to elicit a particular sound, which made the performances uneven – the polkas were exciting but faster than polka tempo, the waltzes of too steady a beat and occasionally uncomfortable. But there were many, many wonderful moments: the delicate hesitancy sweeping into a full-blown waltz in the latter half of "Annen-Polka"; the "Turkish" percussion of "Egyptian March"; the pillowy soft-but-firm underlying beat by basses and timpani in "Blue Danube"; and especially, the interludes between the famous melody of "Blue Danube."

Delfs and the orchestra were most at ease in the thunder and lightning of the encore polka, which they dashed off with a flourish. The audience clearly enjoyed every piece on the program, clapping and whooping enthusiastically through multiple curtain calls.