2016 was the annus horribilis of our still young 21st century, if one is to believe the cacophony of op-eds that bid last year farewell. I tend to be skeptical of hyperbole myself – especially of the sort projected and magnified to apocalyptic proportions by the internet. (After all, nothing generates page clicks and ad revenue like bad news.) Nonetheless, I think we can all agree that as far as classical music in Southern California was concerned 2016 was anything but a disaster. If these first couple of weeks are any indication, then 2017 promises to be even better.

Consider the return of Terry Riley to Southern California, only weeks since his last appearance here: a spectacular improvisational concert at The Getty with his son, Gyan.

This time the venue was The Geffen Contemporary at MOCA, the composer appearing solo. As in December the performances were collaborations with a visual artist: Riley’s extemporizations were part of Doug Aitken’s “Electric Earth” exhibition.

What can be said of the latter’s work other than it traffics in the cutesy and obvious? (Whoa, man. We’re all animals. Cut this guy another fat check!) But, as with his appearance at The Getty, Riley’s music transcended the accompanying visuals. Perhaps inadvertently, Riley’s art also served to demonstrate to its audience – at least those with ears attuned to such things – that great art can be imperfect, as these concerts were.

On neither day I attended, Jan. 6 and Jan. 7, did Riley scale the summits he did at The Getty. The scope of his improvisations was narrower. Though he had a synthesizer available to him, he used it only briefly on the Jan. 6 and shunned it altogether the next day in favor of a piano. A pity because I’ve always felt that as a performer Riley on the electric keyboard speaks with all the naturalness and ease befitting of a mother tongue. On the piano he is a proficient and even compelling speaker of a second language, but lacking the fluidity and agility of a native.

His concerts were, nevertheless, memorable. One came away appreciating his art, not only for the sincerity of its glories, but also for the humanity of its flaws.

Up the street at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion on Jan. 8, Le Salon de Musiques delivered another one of its superbly curated programs, this one unified by a distinctly Russian sense of brooding, Late Romantic melancholy.

The outlier, somewhat, was the teenage Dmitri Shostakovich’s “Piano Trio No. 1,” a work fragrant with the aroma of Rachmaninoff – an influence which the young composer would subsequently purge.

The Le Salon performers chose swift tempi that emphasized the tang in this score’s cocktail of heart-on-sleeve romance spiked with irony.

Revelatory was their performance of the “Piano Quintet” by Sergei Taneyev, a composer often misleadingly referred to as “the Russian Brahms.” Though not effusively expressive in the typical Slavic manner, a heart does beat within the pages of this score. Its pulse, however, is kept in control by a highly sensitive and refined brain.

Pianist Vijay Venkatesh crisply delineated the score’s sparkling textures and passagework, while the string players – composed of violinists Jessica Guideri and Jason Issokson; violist Jonathan Moerschel; and cellist Jacob Braun – spotlit its warmth.

A selection of songs by Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff opened the program, which was performed by soprano Summer Hassan. Her voice was elegant, even if she was a trifle shallow and hooty in her lower register – most noticeably in the latter composer’s “Vocalise.” Le Salon founder François Chouchan, whose velvety touch was especially attractive in the accompaniments to the Rachmaninoff songs, was a consummate partner.

Another 50 weeks remain in 2017. Plenty of time for listeners to find themselves thankful at year’s end – at least for the music.

Néstor Castiglione is a writer and music critic born and raised in Los Angeles.