Whether a work enters the repertoire has less to do with its workmanship than some undefinable spark of creativity.

There are truly great works that audiences steadfastly refuse to embrace, no matter that they are stimulating, brilliantly constructed pieces that changed the course of music history.

Others remain lodged in the repertoire despite the best efforts of "learned" critics to remove them. Tchaikovsky's Symphony No.6 ("Pathétique") is just such a work.

For years, admitting to liking Tchaikovsky was something of an embarrassment, as though his popularity indicated a lack of genius and liking him, a lack of judgment. But audiences continue to adore him, generation after generation.

The Honolulu Symphony's audience Friday night was no exception, ardently applauding the sweeping melodies, the quirky folk song/waltz, the rousing march, the unabashedly sentimental outpouring of heart and soul.

Are there moments in music more wonderful than when that famous melody soars free of turmoil in the first movement? It is more than "just a pretty melody":

If composers could produce a great melody at will, there would be many more great works and wealthy composers than there are, and that holds true for all eras and all genres. Tchaikovsky had a rare, rare gift for melody.

The first half of the concert balanced the Tchaikovsky with two 20th-century American works.

William Schuman's midcentury Concerto for Violin is an intimidating work, enormously difficult, powerful, and well-crafted in two sectional movements. And yet ... even with its colorful scoring and beautiful passages, it is music of the mind, not of the heart: brilliant, but not endearing.

Fortunately, it is also an excellent concerto, and it displayed violinist Darel Stark's impressive technique. An associate principal of the symphony, Stark ripped through multiple stops and sailed through lyric passages, earning enthusiastic applause from an audience peppered with adoring students.

Eric Ewazen's 1997 Concerto for Bass Trombone is one of those rare works that combine emotional warmth, fine craftsmanship, and melodic gift. It is, in short, a work that both endears and will surely endure.

Perhaps best of all, it is as gratifying for the soloist as for the audience, showcasing skills not as flashy technique but with musical meaning.

Michael Szabo, the symphony's bass trombonist, made the most of his infrequent shot at the spotlight, revealing careful intonation, a lovely tapering of phrases, and a beautiful tone, whether heroic or lyric.

Despite several slips in ensemble, guest conductor Naoto Otomo worked well with the orchestra, whose sound both warmed and tightened under his baton.

Otomo conducted the first two works cleanly, but his heart was in the Tchaikovsky. Within measures, his conducting became markedly stronger, with a conviction and definition born of familiarity. He knew exactly what he wanted and worked to extract every ounce of feeling from each passage.