One evening a year and a half ago, Willie Fields Jr. was strolling along Third Street in Old Louisville, not far from the University of Louisville, when he heard something unusual.

"This incredible music was coming out of this house. It was like something divine."

It was so compelling that despite some misgivings, Fields, 49, a poet, decided to knock on the door to find out what was going on.

He wouldn't have been surprised to be turned away, he said. Instead, he was invited in.

He wasn't surprised to learn that a party was going on. But this was a party with a difference.

The classic elements of college parties are simple enough: a keg of beer, a powerful stereo and some rock or rap CDs.

But instead of Aerosmith or Korn, the music at the college party Fields had found was being supplied by the likes of Franz Schubert, Johannes Brahms and Hugo Wolf. Instead of electric guitars, the prevailing instruments were violins, violas, flutes and clarinets.

For the last couple of years, U of L School of Music students and their friends have been gathering periodically in the stately Victorian apartment of graduate composition student Patrick Soluri at a series of parties that have come to be called "The Third Street Salon."

The framework for the parties varies each time, and might include anything from wine-and-cheese tastings to swing-dance lessons. But the core of each salon is the "Music Hour," an hour (or more) of homemade entertainment that runs the gamut from solemn art music to raucous storytelling, from casual sight-reading of new works to studied performances of pieces scheduled for imminent recitals.

At a recent salon just at the tail end of final exams, a roomful of students paired off in the middle of the hardwood floor while big-band music played in the background and April Morris, 26, who had recently moved to Louisville from Washington, D.C., taught sassy dips and slides.

The footwear may have ranged from scruffy tennis shoes to stylish heels, but the steps were guaranteed to draw approving nods at next year's Derby galas.

April Morris and Patrick Soluri smiled while dancing during a recent "Third Street Salon" party at Soluri's apartment. Photo by DURELL HALL JR.

"The salons are an alternative to the typical scene with loud music and binge-drinking," said Ryan Oldham, 24, a graduate music composition student from Erie, Pa. "And there's an incredible variety of entertainment."

Matt Lawson, 27, a jazz trumpet student, agreed.

"We see each other in class, and we sort of know what each of us does musically, but in the formal academic setting we're somewhat separate," he said. "The jazz musicians and the classical musicians don't have many opportunities to play for each other in a casual setting. We're here studying music because we love what we do and we want to share it.

"A classroom can be a sterile environment. Here we're free to really play with the music. It reinforces what we love about music in the first place, and it gives us a chance to hear what our classmates are doing."

Kate Vance, 30, a music education student from Connecticut, echoed that sentiment. "It's exhilarating, informative and lots of fun. These salons give us all the great parts of what we want to learn at the music school, but without the exams."

As the "Music Hour" began, performers signed up for time slots and the audience circled about. Lawson and his colleagues in the quintet Louisville Jazz Project set a mellow tone with a pair of original tunes.

A little later, Lawson leaned against a wall, sipped a drink and listened intently as David Plylar, 23, a graduate student from Phoenix, sight-read Franz Liszt's ferociously difficult concert etude "Harmonies du soir," summoning up the swarming romantic spirit in giant clutches of massive chords on the piano. In the dim light, a page-turner stood over Plylar's shoulder, illuminating his pages with a flickering candle. It was a scene from a 19th-century drawing room.

B.J. Jansen played baritone sax during a performance of original songs at 'The Third Street Salon' by the Louisville Jazz Project quintet. Photo by DURELL HALL JR.

For Tamara Stewart, 24, a graduate student in choral conducting and music history from Dallas, the spirit of the salons is infused with the spirit of earlier times.

Drinking English mead from the horn of a cow (which, when empty, she uncorks and uses as a primitive horn), Stewart compared the party with Schubert's famous Schubertiads, legendary parties that began with singing, continued with the drinking of punch and often lasted until 3 or 4 in the morning.

"I think this must be what those were like. People who loved music, drinking, reciting poetry, celebrating their art."

Much of the music making is deadly serious. At a recent salon, the room was quiet and attentive as violinist Virgil Covington, 22, prepared for his upcoming senior recital by playing a movement from a Brahms violin sonata.

"I think any performance opportunity in front of your peers is valuable," Covington said. "And the salons are good because they're not very formal."

Soluri, the host, wants the salons to provide a safe, nonjudgmental venue where his colleagues can experiment, stretch and feel comfortable.

It's an atmosphere that lends itself to the kind of risk-taking and experimentation a performer might prefer to avoid at, say, the Comstock Recital Hall. And as Louisville Jazz Project bass player Michael Dufresne, 19, said, "The salons show a lot of personal commitment on our part. Students have taken the initiative to put these together as a place where we can build our professional and artistic skills."

But if some performances are deadly serious, others are deadly fun.

The group discusses the dance was discussed in detail. Photo by DURELL HALL JR.

At one point, Patrick McHugh, a graduate of the School of Music who is now enrolled in the School of Medicine, turned in a mind-boggling performance of Bach's Two Part Invention in C Major, crisply whistling one part while humming the other in what amounted to a stupendously difficult parlor trick.

In the best spirit of the Schubertiads, a slightly tipsy Jackson Felder, 24, of Huntsville, Texas, didn't let a bit of wine interfere with his passionate take on Schubert's own "Du bist die Ruh."

Then there was Scott Voyles, 22, a trumpet player and aspiring conductor from Breckinridge County, Ky.

Accompanied by three pianists creating atonal improvisational musical textures, Voyles told a wildly raucous, sometimes raunchy, but apparently true tale of misadventure featuring a drunken woman in a wheelchair and some bizarre dietary practices.

Voyles loves a good story, but he's passionate about his music.

"This is exactly the kind of intellectual crowd I've been looking for all my life," he said. "We spend a lot of time with one another in very stressful performance situations, and we depend on one another, but this gives us the chance to loosen up with friends, to connect with one another in a different way.

"The first time I came to one of these salons, I felt like I'd finally found my way home."

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