Concertmaster Ignace Jang's playing sizzled Friday night; it was a wonder his violin didn't burst into flames.

The piece that so dazzled was Pablo de Sarasate's "Fantasy on Bizet's Carmen," a work familiar these days mostly to violinists. It is, first and foremost, technical fireworks of the kind that elevated Liszt and Paganini to demigod status.

Such showpieces were once repertoire staples, and audiences flocked to concert halls to hear their favorite performers. There is, after all, an undeniable, visceral response to virtuosity, an adrenal thrill that cannot be replicated any other way.

The music — "Carmen," "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star," etc. — almost doesn't matter; it is just an excuse of sorts, a starting point for technical display. In fact, it helps if the themes are familiar because then there is no need to pay attention to them. The themes provide the background "glue," the coherence, the structure, which then allows the composer/performer freedom to show what he or she can do, and allows the audience to "hum along" mentally while concentrating on the display.

In the 20th century, showpieces began to fall out of concert repertoire as the focus shifted to "good," nay "great" music. A living tradition became dominated by masterworks, and entertainment somehow came to be at odds with edification. It was a split that did classical music no favors.

Jang paired Sarasate's "Fantasy" with Vaughan Williams' "The Lark Ascending," which is also a technical display, but one more of artistry and lyricism. The music arises out of a George Meredith poem (line 9 reads, "And he is the wine ... " not "win," as printed in the program), the violin soaring in melismatic flight, dipping, wheeling, "in chirrup, whistle, slur and shake." Jang sketched a graceful lark, nimble, clean-lined, and brimming with the joy of life.

Vaughan Williams' verdant fields of English countryside were apparently so vivid on Friday that they triggered allergies: pesky swarms of coughing repeatedly interrupted Jang's delicate, crystalline harmonics.

Jang was not, however, the only artist in this celebration of Honolulu Symphony's own.

The evening opened with Saint-Saens' Concerto for Violoncello No. 1, featuring principal cellist Mark Votapek.

The cello does not have an overabundance of great concertos, which is hard to understand after hearing Votapek. His playing sang throughout the cello's broad range, and he sailed through difficult technical passages with deceptive ease. His was an eloquent performance, expressive and with enormous appeal.

As principals of their sections, both Jang and Votapek perform numerous solos every season, but Friday's concert afforded an opportunity to hear their considerable talents in greater depth.

Conductor Samuel Wong returned to close the symphony's 2006-07 season, leading what used to be his orchestra with his usual combination of passion and elan.

Ever a gracious conductor for soloists, Wong provided a supportive framework for Jang and Votapek, stepping into the limelight only in the second half, with Brahms' Symphony No. 2.

Wong conducted without a score, moving freely about the podium and interacting intently with the orchestra: "My basic approach to Brahms is very lush, full-blown romantic. If I had 10 (string) basses, I'd use them all." It was an emotional reading, the orchestra slipping comfortably back into Wong's signature blended, full sound.

But along with Brahms, there seemed to be — or was it just imagination? — a wistfulness, an underlying melancholy, an echo of past seasons. Perhaps timpanist Stuart Chafetz summed it up best, with his simple, "Maestro Sam Wong, thank you for everything."