Also this issue: Home Records A roundup of CDs by people who go to the same dentist as you. -Paul Burress, M.J. Fine, P.R, Patrick Rapa and John Vettese More CD reviews -Debra Auspitz, Peter Burwasser, Andrew Milner and Patrick Rapa Choral Arts Society -Peter Burwasser Daniel Lanois -Sam Adams Def Jam Vendetta Tour The Creatures of the Golden Dawn -Brian Howard Prism Quartet -Peter Burwasser A.F.I. -John Vettese

May 14-20, 2003

reviews

Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra

Peter Burwasser

Lorin Maazel is one of the supreme symphonic magicians on the world¹s scene today. In his ability to make any ensemble sound like his own, he ranks with such legends as Stokowski and Toscanini. I don¹t know what the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra sounded like before Maazel, but this afternoon, it sounded like the Cleveland and Pittsburgh in their Maazel eras, and probably what the New York Philharmonic sounds like now that Maazel is the new music director.

That sound is, in a word, brash. Brahms' First Symphony as played by these forces displayed little classical restraint. The dynamism of the performance was mostly thrilling, but the flip side of such an approach is a sort of taffy-pull phrasing, with Maazel slowing down for soft passages, as if to say, Look at me, see how beautiful I am! In such moments, Maazel sounded hypnotized by his own sound, a quality that is consistent in his long career. There was an undeniable grandiosity about this Brahms, but the composer's occasional weakness for pomposity had no cover here.

This approach would seem to be custom-made for the second half of the program, consisting of two chestnuts, Debussy's impressionistic masterpiece La Mer and the symphonic suite from the opera Der Rosenkavalier by Strauss. In the Debussy, the sea was glistening and inviting, rather than, as it is often portrayed, dark and menacing. But even here, the sweetly acrid scent of vulgarity crept in, with moments of undeniably exquisite delicacy overshadowed by crass and even ugly crescendos.

The Strauss is, of course, gloriously vulgar, the sort of music you might be embarrassed to take your mother to hear, despite this being Mother's Day. This raucous score allowed Maazel to indulge in his whole bag of tricks, bringing smiles and even giggles to the lips of the audience. With balletic precision, he gyrated and leapt, grimaced and groaned, and sent wisps of sound off into the air with fluttering fingers. Showmanship in the arena of classical music is generally frowned upon, and this was unabashed showmanship, but this may have been the most purely entertaining concert of the season. That's a good thing.